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#i remember feeling an ache and a deep sadness so heavy it filled my lungs and tbh i felt it for basically all the villains i love(d)
leighsartworks216 · 3 months
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I Come With Knives Pt16
Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader
This chapter goes through the "taking down Cazador" bit of the game, with dialogue directly transcribed from the game (though altered in some places for the story's sake), so uh spoilers
Warnings: blood, references to torture/trauma/past abuse, Cazador, swearing, dissociation, crying, angst
Word Count: 2,279
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First Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist - Second Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist
I Come With Knives Masterlist
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You stared up at the signs, a sickening pool of dread and uncertainty filling your stomach. It was a marker, pointing out the directions of towns for travelers to know where they were headed. The names on the worn wood stared back at you. Waiting.
Astarion stepped up and carefully took your hand in his. “We can go to Berdusk first,” he offers. He glances up at the sign.
Baldur’s Gate →
Berdusk ↑
You squeeze his hand. You wish you could. You wish you could just drop everything - the tadpoles and the Absolute and the Dead Three and their chosen and everything else that hangs over you as surely as the Sun. Go to Berdusk, take down Kir Parthene, be free.
But you can’t.
“We can’t put off Baldur’s Gate forever,” you murmur. You don’t meet his eye as you continue down the right path, reluctantly slipping your hand from his.
He watches your retreating form. He sees the way you glance down the other road, how your head hangs slightly as you clear your head of the fantasy of removing the shackles of slavery.
Soon, he thinks. Soon, we will both be free.
-
Your heart aches as you come face to face with so many spawn. They’re all disheveled, weak, starving. Their eyes stare at you, but they do not see you. They only take such keen interest because of the blood pulsing just beneath your skin.
One of the spawn, long white hair dirtied from who-knows-how-long being trapped here, stares at Astarion. “You,” he barely whispers. His voice shakes. “I know you. You’re the one from the tavern. You smiled and joked and got me drunk.”
Astarion steps forward, eyes wide with recognition. “You- No. You’re dead.”
The spawn keeps going. With each word, his eyes, glowing red, gleam with sorrow. “You called me so many sweet things. My name sounded like a lyric on your tongue.”
“Sebastian…” He says the name so gently.
Sebastian seems to perk up ever so slightly. “You remember me.”
Astarion nods slightly. A deep sadness rests heavy on his features, weighing down his shoulders. He looks at Sebastian like he’s mourning a life long ago. “You were handsome. Shy.” He can’t meet Sebastian’s eyes as he says, “You’d never been kissed.”
The spawn nodded. “You taught me how.” His face sours, creasing with rage. “And then you destroyed me.”
Sebastian screams as he lunges to grab Astarion, but the rogue is too quick on his feet. He steps back, just avoiding the hand that claws at the air. Sebastian tries for a moment longer before he gives up, drawing his hand back in and leaning heavily against the cell door as he falls to his knees.
You step forward, standing beside Astarion. You carefully take his hand. He holds onto it like a lifeline, but he can’t seem to meet your eyes. “They all have scars,” you point out quietly. You look between every single one. Sure enough, somewhere on their flesh was the same scar Astarion had on his back.
“So Cazador marked them too - bound us all to his ritual.” He gasps, eyes flickering from one person to the next. “Gods, I know so many of these faces. They’re my… conquests. I pursued them, seduced them, then brought them to Cazador. He told us he was feeding on them… But he turned them to spawn. He turned every last one so he’d have souls for his cursed ritual!”
“How long?”
You both look back at Sebastian, unclear if that’s even who spoke. “What?”
Sebastian is slow to stand. He’s so weak - you can’t begin to imagine how hungry and lost he must feel.
“How long have I been down here?”
You bite the inside of your cheek and glance at Astarion. He takes a breath, but he answers. “One hundred and seventy years. You… were one of my first.”
“My family,” Sebastian gasps. “My friends… They’re gone… You took them from me. You took everything from me!”
“We’ll set you free,” you interject quickly. You can feel how tense Astarion is.
Sebastian scoffs immediately, shaking his head. “Free? We’ll never be free while that monster lives.”
“That’s why we’re here,” Astarion tells him, “to destroy Cazador.”
He shakes his head. “You can’t. It’s not possible…”
“We’ll find a way.” You step forward. Astarion’s hold on your hand tightens, prepared to pull you back if Sebastian decides to lash out again. But you don’t recoil from the glowing irises that stare at you, full of distrust and uncertainty. “I promise.”
“Even if you can kill him - what then? What happens to us?”
You tilt your head at the spawn. “What do you want to happen?”
He droops into himself, shaking his head. “I don’t know. I- I just don’t want to die down here. Please… Whatever you do, just do it quickly. I can’t go on waiting…”
You nod, silently assuring him of the promise you made. You wish desperately to reach out to him through the bars. You wish you could comfort him somehow; give him complete certainty that you will free him - all of them. But to do so would be to stick your arm in a lion’s den.
Astarion gently tugs on your hand and you slowly step away. He guides you away from the cells, but your eyes refuse to tear away from Sebastian until he blocks your line of sight. He sighs quietly, shakily, equal parts relieved and distraught.
“Everyone who ever trusted me enough to let down their guard… I should have known what Cazador was capable of. Ugh, he’s played us all for such fools. Not just seven spawn to placate the devil. Seven spawn, and seven thousand souls to bound to them in blood!” He huffs, glancing briefly over his shoulder. “It doesn’t matter. I will need to sacrifice them all if I want to perform the ritual.”
You jump back, gawking at him. He… He couldn’t really be thinking about ascending… could he?
He frowns at you. “What?”
“You can save them.”
He scoffs. “What’s the point? They’re as good as dead. I thought they were dead. If they are unleashed they will cause incredible carnage. They will be ravenous. They must die. Better they serve a purpose.”
You stare at him with wide eyes. Your mind races. He talks about the spawn almost like your master does. It’s not seven thousand lives being sacrificed - they’re just things to be toyed with and thrown away. He knows them; knows their faces, some of their names! And still, his mind is set on destroying them all.
“This isn’t you, Astarion,” you barely whisper, trying to convince yourself even when you know it’s not. The lines are becoming too blurred. “Not really.”
“It should be. I don’t want to be like them…” He scowls, glaring at the souls locked away. “They’re pathetic, horrible…”
You shake your head. Any words you wish you could say get stuck in your throat.
But when you don’t say anything, his face softens with worry. “Don’t hate me,” he begs. “I just did what I had to. I swear, I did what I had to…”
“But you can do more now…”
He opens his mouth, prepared to defend himself, but you don’t want to hear what he could say. It hurts too much. You just shake your head and walk around him. If you can just kill Cazador… maybe then… maybe…
-
“Get over here. We can do this.”
You felt sick. The man before you looked like a poor copy of Astarion. His eyes were crazed and angry, face sharp and all the look of a predator. When you didn’t move, didn’t answer, a desperate growl rose from the back of his throat. “I’m doing this for you, too! We can be all-powerful, together. No one could ever tell us what to do, ever again.”
Seven thousand innocent souls. Your heart weeped for every single one of them. Their sorrow became yours. Their loss became yours. In a split second, you saw them all lining up to take their place against the wall, wading through a river of blood, each taking their turn to be whipped while you stood by helplessly to watch.
How could sacrificing seven thousand people ever be the right answer? Especially if it meant ascending.
You shook your head. “I don’t need you to do this for me - I don’t want you to. We can protect ourselves! We can be better!”
“We are pathetic!” he screamed. It struck like an arrow through your entire being. Even as you stared up at him with wide eyes, he rampaged on. “We are weak. We can’t change - we can’t hope to hold our own against bastards like him,” he points at Cazador with the ornate dagger, “or Kir Parthene, without this! I promised to defend you from her - this is how we do it!”
Your lungs constricted. You couldn’t breathe. You saw their eyes looking at you - the eyes of the victims lured by Cazador’s spawn, the eyes of the spawn you were forced to watch get tortured for your mistakes, the eyes of Astarion when he’d cradle your face tenderly in his hands and promise everything would be okay. Allowing him to ascend would be to forsake all of that.
You took in a shaky breath, forming the words within your dry throat. “If you want to ascend, you’ll have to carve those damned runes into my own back.”
His face fell in an instant. Eyes, wide and round, stared at you in disbelief. You took the side of the spawn over him? He could become so powerful, and share that power with you, and never again would you have anything to fear. He couldn’t imagine losing all that.
“Astarion, if you ascend, you’ll just become like him.” You gesture to the pathetic man cowering on the floor. “Like… her. You’d lose yourself entirely. You won’t ever stop being afraid.”
His hand tightened around the hilt of the dagger. Of course you could see right through him. You always had, even from the very beginning.
“Please,” you begged softly. “Don’t do this.”
“You…” He sighs. His entire demeanor softens. No longer does he seem desperate for security. He looks at you earnestly. “You’re right. I can be better than him.” His face hardens again as he glares down at Cazador. “But I’m not above enjoying this.”
-
He couldn’t wrap his head around it. Cazador was dead. By his own hand, no less. He’d never have to seduce another unsuspecting fool, never have to suffer the torture inflicted upon him those long 200 years, never be forced to follow the bastard’s ever whim. And the spawn were alive and free, fleeing to the Underdark where they could build a new life for themselves. Sebastian was free. Things were good - great, even!
So why did he feel so awful?
Hours later, sitting in his bed at the inn, he still didn’t feel some grand catharsis. He didn’t feel free. He just felt… numb. He tried reading, but none of the words stuck. He tried embroidering, but he couldn’t seem to thread the needle. He felt so disjointed from his body, so disconnected. The dissociation he experienced during sex was multiplied tenfold, and he couldn’t figure out how to turn it off.
His body jumped when something touched his shoulder, but his eyes could only stare blankly ahead, unfocused. For a brief moment, he was afraid it was Cazador, still alive and back to punish him. But the touch was too tender, too kind.
“What do you need?” you asked him quietly, barely above a whisper. You slowly sat down beside him on the edge of the bed. His hand blindly sought yours out. You held on, anchoring him to you.
He took a long breath in. What did he need? He wasn’t sure anymore. He thought all he needed was to kill Cazador and everything would be fine. He’d be fine. Why couldn’t he just be fucking fine?
The breath turned shaky. Tears burned his eyes, forcing him to blink in a futile attempt to make them go away. A heavy lump formed in his throat, choking him. You slid your hand across his back to his other shoulder, wrapping your arm around him. He turned into you, burying his face into your neck and clinging to your waist with his free hand. All at once, the floodgates opened.
His body shook with the effort of his sobs. Each one tore apart his esophagus; made his chest feel so tight he feared with each strained breath that he’d collapsed a lung. Hot, fat tears rolled freely down his face, dripping onto your skin and shirt. You gently leaned your head on his, tucking him further into your neck, granting him an extra ounce of security.
A particularly rough sob jolted through his system, coming out with a restrained, anguished cry. “Why don’t I feel better?” he babbled wetly. “Why can’t I just fucking feel better?”
You don’t answer. There’s nothing you can say. Two hundred years of torment can’t be healed with one death, not after everything it did to Astarion. Not after every punishment, every victim - everything. You wished for all the world it could be that way for him.
So you simply sit there with him, as he’d done for you. You run your fingers soothingly through his hair, lightly scratching at his scalp and tucking stray curls behind his ears. You never let go of his hand, even after he runs out of tears to cry. You just stay.
He’s never felt so safe.
---
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girlcaligula · 3 years
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the narrative role villains play is heartbreaking. you have fictional people purposefully built to fail and die and mirror the worst depths of humanity and yet written so that you still consider them human and wonder 'but what if-'. it's terrifying.
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dreamerstreamer · 3 years
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Somewhere Only We Know
Pairing: god!Dream / DreamXD x gn!reader
Summary: [Reincarnation!AU & Dream SMP!AU] Being a god can be especially lonely—Dream knows that better than anyone. Yet somehow, you always manage to find your way back to him in every life you live. If only it didn’t hurt so much to love you.
Warnings: tw// mention of death
Word Count: 5.6k
A/N: requested by the lovely 🤡 anon, who asked for a piece based on keane’s somewhere only we know! i got rather carried away when writing this, and it’s certainly quite sad, but i hope you all enjoy it! <3
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Dream blinks lazily up at the fluffy clouds drifting across the cerulean sky, his emerald eyes tracing over their soft edges. He hums to himself as one of them drifts in front of the sun, the warm light suddenly leaving his face. Frowning, he sits up a little straighter, raising his arm above his head. He snaps his fingers once, and in an instant, the clouds vanish. Warmth floods his cheeks as the sun’s brilliant rays crash over him once more. He smiles, but it’s melancholic, a forlorn look passing over his face.
Just how long has he been alone like this?
Sighing, he rises to his feet, kicking at the soft dirt beneath the soles of his boots. His viridian cloak is light atop his shoulders, his wings neatly folded underneath the soft fabric. Above his head, his halos glow with a dazzling golden hue, sending beams of amber light flashing across the nearby tree trunks. Rolling his neck, he snaps his fingers again, and his wings and halos vanish in a flash. Just like that, the weight on his back dissipates, and his lips twitch. There—that’s much lighter.
His gaze flickers over to the waterfall lying just a yard away, rushing ripples of water streaming down the short cliff face and into the pool lying at its base. He crouches down next to the small pond, brushing his hand over the soft soil beneath his feet. Sparks shoot up his arm and into his fingertips, the earth suddenly bursting to life underneath his touch.
All of a sudden, a blossom sprouts from the ground, soft and pink as it unfurls its petals and soaks up the warm sunshine. Dream grins as row after row of flowers shoot up from the ground, circling around the pond and lining the trees around the clearing until suddenly, the whole space is surrounded by breathtaking blossoms. He stands back with a satisfied hum, glancing around himself with an almost nostalgic gleam in his gaze.
It’s been ages since he last returned to this little alcove in his favourite forest. He could tell no one else had stepped foot here except for him, too. After all, there was only one other person who knew about this place—the only other person in the world he knew would be able to find it in the first place.
Had it been decades or centuries since he last visited? He’s not sure anymore, but really, he’s not sure if he cares, either. There’s a reason why he doesn’t come back here very often—one that he hesitates to even think about.
It’s far too painful of a memory to relive.
“Hello?”
Dream freezes, his eyes going wide at the sound of a new voice—a familiar voice. Slowly, he turns, his lips parting in awe as he sees a figure stepping into the clearing, a mix of caution and curiosity flitting across your cheeks.
He knows that face—knows you.
His heart aches at the thought.
“Hi,” he manages after a long moment, swallowing ever so slightly.
You flash him a sheepish smile, lowering your gaze to the ground almost bashfully as you brush a stray leaf off your shoulder. “I’m sorry if I’m intruding, or anything. I was just passing by when I saw the flowers, and thought they looked really pretty, and...”
You trail off, your voice growing smaller and smaller until it fades off into silence. Dream stares at you, unmoving as his heart races a mile a minute in his chest, battering against his rib cage as your timid gaze flickers to his.
“I, um,” you squeak out, feeling the intensity of his eyes on yours. “I can go if you wa—”
“No,” Dream suddenly blurts, the word flying out of his mouth before he can stop himself. He can already feel the heat flooding his chest at the way you startle in front of him, and he sucks in a breath.
“Wait,” he says, calmer this time. “Please, I—you’re not intruding at all. You can stay.” He takes a shaky step forward, offering you a crooked yet earnest smile. “I’d love it if you stayed.”
In an instant, your face lights up, and his breath hitches in his throat at the sight. “O-Oh, thank you! It’s nice to meet you. My name’s [Y/N].”
In that moment, he could have sworn his heart stopped and would never beat, again. “What’s yours?” you ask, your eyes shining like freshly cut gemstones.
His eyes scan your face for a moment, taking in the soft panes of your cheeks and the delicate curve of your lips as your smile leaves tiny cuts in his lungs.
“Dream,” he breathes at last. “Call me Dream.”
Suddenly, your eyes curve into tiny crescent moons as you grin at him, and he feels the loneliness flowing through his veins subside the tiniest bit.
Even after all this time, he still can’t bring himself to forget your smile.
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Dream hums to himself as he tosses a pebble into the pond from his spot on the fallen tree log. The stream laps at the stone once before swallowing it whole, letting it sink to the murky bottom without so much as a splash. A rustle comes from behind him, and he immediately whirls, his lips curling up into an eager smile.
“[Y/N],” he chirps, bright and keen, “welcome back.”
Your glowing face greets him in return, and he nearly combusts on the spot. He still remembers the way you had promised him you would return to see him again a week ago, when you had first stumbled upon his clearing. His head still spins at the thought, and it almost makes him forget the longing ache that sinks into his bones when his gaze lingers on you for a fraction too long.
Almost.
You wave at him as you jump over a protruding tree root, crinkles forming at the corners of your eyes. “Good morning, Dream! What are you doing here so early? The market only just opened.”
He shuffles over on the log to give you room, raising an eyebrow at you. “I could ask the same of you.”
Crouching over, you settle down onto the space next to him, not at all noticing the way he stiffens when your thigh brushes against his. “I woke up early to watch the sunrise,” you say with a half-drowsy smile.
There is a beat of silence, then Dream tilts his head at you. “The sunrise?”
You bob your head, turning to look at him. “Yeah,” you murmur wistfully, raising your arm to wave your hand up at the sky above. “I love watching all the pretty colours fill the horizon. It only lasts a few minutes, but it’s so magnificent, and I always try to watch them if I can.”
His eyes flash as he takes in your gentle expression. Then, he opens his mouth, thoughtful and slow. “Sunrises, hm? What other things do you like?”
You pause for a moment. “Other things I like?” When he nods, you hum, averting your gaze from his until you find yourself staring over at the bubbling waterfall.
“I like... I like flowers,” you begin, “but you already knew that.” He chuckles at the hint of a smile that dusts your face before you continue. “I like exploring the market every Saturday, too. They always have something new to find.”
Suddenly, your eyes flicker to life, glittering with excitement. “Oh, I also like stargazing! It’s like watching the universe paint a picture with little crystals every night, and something about looking up at the sky makes me feel so small, and I... I...” You gesture vaguely, a frustrated noise escaping your throat. “I don’t know. I just like it.”
Dream cannot help the way his heart melts in his chest at the sound you make, a certain fondness seeping into his soul. You were always so endearing—always, always, always.
“What about you, Dream?” you say suddenly, looking at him curiously. “What things do you like?”
Dream blinks at you—once, twice. Suddenly, his mind is flooded with image after image, memory after memory.
He thinks of the millennia he has lived through, the cities he has watched rise and fall. He thinks of the countless distances he has wandered, travelling far and wide with a heavy loneliness hanging in his barren heart. He thinks of soft kisses pressed to calloused fingertips and fluttering eyelids.
Then, he looks at you, with your enraptured eyes and your glorious grin.
“You,” he says, sincerity gracing his every word. “I like spending time with you.”
He watches as you stammer in reply, your eyes going wide as you gape at him in a mixture of embarrassment and flattery. He laughs at you, and his heart swells in his chest.
He’s missed you—more than you would ever know.
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“Say, Dream, have you ever seen the ocean?”
The sun glares harshly into your eyes from where you lie on the earth, staring up at the cobalt sky, but Dream hardly notices—his eyes are too focused on you. “I have,” he murmurs as his gaze traces over the bridge of your nose in wonder. He’s seen more of the world than he would like to admit. After all, he was the one who created it in the first place. But to you, he’s just a simple traveler with a penchant for waterfalls.
Before he can even register it, you’ve bolted upright, bending over him with an excited shout. “Really?! What’s it like?”
He jolts at the sudden movement, all too keenly aware of how close your face is to his before his shuffles into a sitting position, resting his chin on his hand. “Well,” he begins, “it’s really big. So big that you can’t see the shore on the other side no matter how hard you try. It’s blue as far as the eye can see, and the breeze kind of tastes salty if you open your mouth.”
He catches a flash of your awed expression as he waves his arm in front of him to illustrate the vast size of the ocean. “The water,” he continues, envisioning the waves as they crash onto the sand, “is nice and cold, and if you swim deep enough, you might find fish and coral. It’s relaxing to watch the tide come up into the beach. Sometimes, shells wash up onto the shore, too. You can keep those as little souvenirs.”
For a moment, you are silent as you simply stare at him, something swirling deep within your gaze. “Wow,” you say at last, sounding completely breathless. “That sounds beautiful.” You stretch your legs out in front of you, your fingers curling into the grass spread beneath your palms. “My best friend says there’s mermaids in the ocean.” You scrunch your nose. “I don’t know if I believe him, though.”
Something dark ripples through Dream, and the tiniest of frowns passes over his face. “Your best friend?” he parrots.
You nod. “Yeah—his name’s Karl. He’s really nice and likes to goof off a lot. He’s also a really good storyteller!” You look at him then, fondly and with such a kind look it almost knocks Dream right over. “I think you might like his stories.”
His lips quirk up into a coy smile, and he leans ever so slightly forward. “Would I, now?” he croons, a teasing lilt tinting his tone. “What kind of stories does he like to tell?”
You clasp your hands together, excitement brimming in your face. “Oh, wonderful ones! There’s the one about the sleepy fox, the one about the pig who could not be killed, and the one about how we all face reincarnation after death, but my favourite,” you murmur, “is about the creation of the world.”
Dream goes still at that, his smile faltering for a split second. “How does that one go?” he asks softly.
You scoot the tiniest bit closer to his side, your gaze lowering ever so slightly. “Once upon a time,” you start, your voice as smooth as velvet, “a god descended from the heavens and carved the world into the shape it is today.” You traced your finger along the soft dirt. “He made valleys and hills, oceans and rivers, decorating the land with flowers and trees. The world he made was beautiful, but it was lonely, so he filled it with people to keep him company. He was so full of joy to have friends, until one day, he fell in love.”
Your demeanour, which had been cheerful up until this point, suddenly shifted, darkening as you let out a sigh. “He fell in love so quickly and so deeply that he was blind to the nature of his own creations, as they had a mortal lifespan, unlike him. When his lover died, a part of his soul died with them. He vanished after that, never to be seen again.” You curl your knees to your chest, resting your head upon them. “Some people say he wanders the world, mourning for all of eternity. Others say he died of heartbreak. Even fewer believe that his lover lives on and he loves them still, although they’re not entirely sure. Either way, he has yet to appear, and humanity quietly awaits for his return.”
Dream is silent beside you, his lips pressed into a thin line as his chest rises and falls with the timing of his breaths. “Why is that story your favourite?” he finally asks.
You lift your head, surprise shooting across your face. “I’m not sure,” you say softly, pondering for a moment. “I just think he sounds so... sad. It’s a tragedy, what happened to him. He only wanted to not be alone anymore.” Your voice drops even lower. “He only ever wanted to love someone.”
An ache suddenly expands within his gut, digging into his sides of his skull with such ferocity he fears he may never escape it. That same, fleeting sense of solitude slinks around his lungs, squeezing and squeezing until your eyes lock into his, and they halt.
“Do you think that he lives on?” you whisper, your gaze searching his. “That he might have found someone else to keep him company, despite his sadness?”
You pause, something like hope sparking within your eyes. “Do you think... he ever loved again?”
Dream stares at you, and stares at you, and stares at you. Your lips are right there, are so dreadfully close to him as he looks at you, feeling the blood pound through his ears as the pain in his heart begins to lift. It rises higher and higher within him before sliding off his shoulders entirely, leaving nothing behind but tender affection and warmth—a warmth he had been yearning for for so, so long.
He smiles at you then, and for once, this one is real.
“Something tells me he did.”
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Dream stretches his wings out behind him with a quiet groan, feeling the cool air ruffle his ivory white feathers. His cloak sits on the ground next to him while his golden halos spin rapidly atop his head from where they float, glowing faintly in the fading evening light. After a moment, he lets his wings fold back up against his back, lowering his arms with a sharp exhale. In the distance, he catches a glimpse of the setting sun just before it dips below the horizon, shrouding the world in darkness. With a bored look, he picks at his nail, curling his toes in his shoes.
He’s already waved you off and watched as you wove your way out of the clearing and between the forest’s tangled trees back to your village. Now, he has nothing left to do but wait for your return the next day, his throat aching for your arrival with every passing second.
How far I have fallen, he thinks distantly to himself, to be reduced to nothing more than a helpless admirer for a human.
A moment passes, and his heart sighs.
A lovely human, at that.
All of a sudden, he hears a stick snap behind him, and Dream immediately snaps his fingers, his wings and halos disappearing in a flash, almost as if they had never existed to begin with. Whipping around on his heel, he narrows his eyes at the clearing entrance, jaw clenched in preparation. His shoulders are raised at his side, tense with anticipation when just then...
...you stumble out of the forest, tears streaking down your face.
Dream’s shoulders fall in an instant.
“Dream,” you choke out, your voice cracking sharply.
You don’t even get the chance to open your mouth again before he’s standing in front of you, his hands gripping your shoulders as gently as he can manage. His eyes scan your face as his stomach churns with agony at the despair painted onto your features. “[Y/N],” he murmurs softly, “what’s wrong? Why are you crying?”
You sniffle, lifting your head to look at him through watery eyes as you open your mouth. “Karl—he’s sick. Really sick,” you babble like a winding stream. “The doctor doesn’t know what’s wrong with him, and he’s been coughing so badly that you can just tell he’s in pain. At this rate, I—I’m scared he’s not going to get any better. He... I’ve known him since forever, and I—”
The words die in your mouth as you cut yourself off with a broken sob, and Dream almost feels as though he’s been stabbed in the gut. He never wants to see you in pain, to see you as sad as this, and the fact that you are sobbing at all makes him want to wail himself.
Softly, he wraps his arms around you, pressing you close to your chest as he rocks you gently back and forth with your head resting on his shoulder. Your tears soak his shirt, but he doesn’t mind one bit. “Shh, [Y/N],” he coos quietly. “It’s going to be okay.”
You pull back with a wary gaze, fear etched into your features. “How do you know that?” you whisper. “What if he doesn’t get better? What then?”
Dropping one arm from behind you, Dream slips a hand into his pocket, quickly rubbing his fingers together. Just like that, cool glass that wasn’t there a moment earlier presses against the warmth of his palm, and he pulls out a vial filled with a pale, rosy liquid.
“Here,” he says, pressing the vial into your hand. “This is an antidote I’ve been...” He pauses for a split second, then fibs. “...holding onto for a while. For emergencies.” Slowly, he clasps your fingers until they’re closed around the glass top, sending you a reassuring smile. “Give this to Karl, and I promise you he’ll recover.”
You blink at him, your eyes glimmering underneath the light of the swirling stars overhead. “You swear?” you ask meekly, hope dancing along the edge of your lashes.
Dream swallows thickly and nods. “On my life.”
You inhale a deep, shuddering breath, then raise your hand to wipe at your eyes before smiling at him, warm and full of affection. “Okay,” you murmur as you step back from him. “I trust you, Dream.”
The next morning, you come tumbling into Dream’s arms with a gleeful cry, tears flowing freely down your face as you knock him to the ground. This time, they’re there for an entirely different reason as you ramble about Karl’s cleared airways when the doctor came to check on him after you fed him the antidote.
Beneath you, Dream relishes in the warmth of your body against his, praying you cannot feel the way his heart hammers against his chest.
There were not enough words in the world that he could use to describe how deep his devotion to you ran.
He fears there may never be enough.
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Months pass in a blur, and Dream watches with knowing eyes as summer turns to autumn. Soon enough, snow coats the clearing although the waterfall continues to flow. No matter how harsh the weather, you stumble your way back to the forest to him, and each day, Dream feels himself sink deeper and deeper into the very essence that is you.
To think that there was once a time he never wanted to return here at all.
“Dream,” you say abruptly one day, “you know, I think you might be my favourite person in the world.”
He cocks a brow at you, his lips twitching up into a small smirk. “In the world?” he repeats. “I think Karl would be offended.”
You roll your eyes at him, but you can’t stop the smile from stretching across your face. “Maybe, but it’s the truth!” You lift a hand and begin counting off on your fingers. “You’re—you’re so nice, and passionate, and bold, and bright, and...” You pause, then chuckle almost shyly. “I could go on and on, but that’s embarrassing.”
He chuckles at your words, only growing more and more enamoured with each word that falls from your lips. “It’s not embarrassing,” he says gently. “It’s cute.”
Your shoulders suddenly stiffen, and you slowly turn your head to glance up at him. “Cute? You think I’m cute?”
He doesn’t have to think twice about his response. “Very much so. I would dare say that you are even more beautiful than you are cute.”
You whine with a pout, heat crawling up the side of your neck as you dig your thumbs into your palms. “You can’t just say things like that.”
He stares at you for a second, then he flashes you a grin that is both parts wicked and affectionate. “Maybe, but it’s the truth.”
Your mouth drops open at the way he fires your own words back at you, and you gape at him a moment before you groan, reaching over to playfully bat at his arm. “Why, you!”
He laughs at you and loves the way he can tell your heart races in your chest. He loves the way you smile despite your small shouts of frustration. He loves the way you are just so endearing to him in every which way.
He laughs at you and he loves you, hopelessly and wholly.
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Dream gazes up at the orange sky with a slight frown and furrowed brows, watching as the clouds coast by overhead on a distant, northern gale. The waterfall babbles restlessly at his side, and he taps his foot against the smooth stones lining the pond with abandonment. The flowers he had once grown rake this petals over the soles of his shoes as he lets out a long sigh, anxiety slowly beginning to paw at his backside.
Are you going to show up at all today? he wonders. There are some days you don’t appear at all, typically because you had to run some errands or something of the sort, but those days are few and far between. He won’t chastise you for not seeing him, of course, but he cannot simply ignore the pang of his heart when he misses you so.
His fingers drum against the cool material clutched in his hands, and a melancholic look flits over his features. It would be a shame if you didn’t appear though, especially given what he had in mind for the day.
Right then, he hears your lovely voice call out for him. “Dream!”
His frown is immediately replaced by a smile as he whirls around to see you, his hands carefully tucked behind his back. “[Y/N],” he greets, striding up to you. “It’s good to see you.”
You’ve only just made it in front of him when he opens his mouth again, excitement filling his words to the absolute brim. “I brought you a gift.”
You blink wildly at him, pointing to yourself in surprise. “For me?”
His grin only grows wider, his heart leaping into his throat. “Of course it’s for you, silly. Who else?”
You squint for a second, then smile. “Karl?”
Dream deadpans at you, and you laugh in return, not noticing the way his eyes melt fondly at your expression. “I’m kidding,” you chide, shuffling a step closer to him. “So, what is it?”
He’s practically bouncing on the balls of his feet when he finally brings his hands out from behind him, pushing them towards you. “Ta-da! Here.”
Your breath catches at the sight of his palms, and with trembling hands, you reach up to pull the curved item from his hand. “Is this... a shell?” you whisper, your eyes as wide as saucers.
He nods, his emerald eyes gleaming with pride. “A conch shell,” he says. “From the ocean.”
You sputter as you gently turn the shell over in your hands, your fingers tracing over the solid edges with nothing short of pure shock. “H-How did you even get this? The nearest ocean is at least a week’s travel on horse away!”
Dream thinks of the wings he typically had tucked on his back and how they carried him to the ocean and back in less than a few minutes, but to you, he only smiles and shrugs. “I have my ways.”
You don’t respond for a moment, then two. All of a sudden, you sniffle, and Dream is bending before you in a heartbeat, his hands reaching for yours before just stopping short. “[Y/N]?” he asks in a soothing tone. “Is something wrong?”
Your gaze is watery, but only slightly as you raise your chin to look at him, your lower lip set with determination. “Dream,” you say with a shaky breath, “I have to tell you something.” You gulp. “It’s serious.”
Immediately, Dream’s mind runs through a million and five possibilities of what you could possibly say to him, each one increasingly worse than the last. Your family is in need of funds, or you’re about to leave on a life-threatening journey. Or maybe Karl is just sick, again.
But before he can run himself into the ground with his own worries, Dream lets out a breath and tilts his head at you. “What is it?”
Your gaze falls down to your feet, and you stare at the earth for an excruciatingly long minute. Dream simply stands in front of you, patiently and earnestly waiting for your response when you suddenly open your mouth.
“I—I love you.”
Dream’s lungs feel as though they are about to collapse in his chest. “You do?”
You bite your lip, but raise your head, your shoulders trembling at your sides. “Yes,” you whisper, the syllable steeped with emotion. With one hand clasped around the conch shell, the other reaches up to rest over your chest, palm pressed flats against your left side. “My heart is yours, all of it.”
The world is a blur of colours and sounds around him, and he can feel his head spin faster and faster as a wave of memories come crashing down over him, drowning him whole. He wants to tear his hair out and scream to the heavens above until his throat is raw and he can scream no more.
You love him. You love him back, and as much as he wants to burn your words into the back of his eyelids, something else sinks its claws into his heart and tears a hole right into the flesh.
This is not the first time you have spoken these words to him. No, not at all.
He had done his best to forget them over all those years, had tried his best to outrun the anguish with every century he lived through. After all, when you live as long as he has, it is only natural for him to forget some things. Through wandering across every land he had lovingly sculpted by hand, he had hoped to erase his suffering by engulfing himself in other worldly affairs, isolating himself entirely from others.
But no amount of time could ever truly erase the memories he had of you—the first incarnation of you, from all those years ago.
He remembers how the two of you had shared your first kiss under the light of the full moon, giggling to one another as he wrapped you up in his soft feathers. He remembers the way you would hold his hand and tell him about all the things you could not wait to do with him in the very same clearing he stood in now. He remembers the way your body went limp in his own arms, coughing until your lungs could cough no more. He remembers the agony and the torment as he wasted away, too caught up in the imprint of your skin against his before you turned to dust before his very eyes.
He remembers it all, and he cannot not let himself be shattered like that, again.
“I have to go,” he whispers, jerking his arm back from yours.
You whip your head up, pain shooting across your face. “Y-You’re leaving? What?”
He takes another step back and swallows down the lump in his throat, but it tastes like acid burning his stomach. “I—I can’t stay here.”
Before he can move back again, your hand shoots out to grab at the hem of his shirt, desperation soaking into your face: “P-Please,” you plead, “you can just say you don’t love me back. My feelings for you won’t change.”
He wants to cry. No, he thinks, it’s not that. It could never be that. Not with you.
You clutch at the cloth, hoping your feelings somehow reach him through your anguished touch. “I love you, Dream,” you begin, “I really do. I love how attentive you are, how much you always seem to care. You’re always so patient with me, so kind, so generous, and it makes me melt inside. I love the way your eyes shine so brightly, and I love your little freckles. I want to count them all, and I don’t mind if that takes the rest of eternity.”
You’re almost entirely out of breath by now, and Dream’s jaw has gone slack. He can only stare at you with a look of pure conflicting despair as your eyes search his for answers he knows he cannot possibly give. “An eternity with you would be nothing,” you breathe, your voice cracking. Your grip on his shirt suddenly goes limp, and your arm falls back to your side. “Please. Stay.”
The knife in his gut only seems to twist deeper as he takes yet another step back, his cloak feeling like a boulder upon his back. “I can’t,” he chokes out. “I really can’t.”
Tears line your eyes like tiny jewels, and he wishes he could wipe them away. “Why?” you beg. “Why do you have to go?”
He opens his mouth, then closes it, shaking his head. He doesn’t even know where to begin.
In front of him, a look of absolute defeat sinks into your expression, and your voice grows smaller than ever. “At least—at least tell me if I’ll ever see you again.”
Dream’s feels the back of his eyes sting, and he clenched his hands beside him. “Not in this lifetime,” he wants to say. “And hopefully not in the next, either.”
“I’m sorry, [Y/N],” he says instead.
Just like that, he watches as the light fades from your eyes, vanishing from sight as the setting sun watches on with a sad gaze. Your lower lip trembles, and before you can stop yourself, you’re crumpling to the ground in a heap and watering the earth with your tears. You clutch the conch shell to your chest and let it dig into your chest from how tightly you press it against yourself, your vision completely blurred. In front of you, Dream holds back tears of his own, forcing himself to look away from your broken figure as he walks toward the forest away from you.
Your wails follow after him even after he unfurls his wings deep in the forest and soars up into the sky, flying high above the world below as he dries his tears with the harsh wind that bites at his face.
He will not return here for a long, long time.
He doesn’t think he would even be able to bring himself to if he tried.
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Dream brushes a stray leaf off his shoulder as he steps over a root, his eyes focused on the bushes before him. A bird chirps as he strolls past a tree, nestling further into its nest as he ducks under the branch. He smiles at the sight, a deep fondness seeping into his heart as he lets his hand run over the tree’s hard bark.
He recognizes this forest—these trees. He knows this sky, has leapt over these rocks. He’s walked this path before.
It’s a shame he can’t remember how long it’s been since he last came here.
He hums a quiet melody to himself as he weaves a path between the trees, drawing nearer and nearer to the place he had been searching for with every passing second. He’s only a few steps away when a sound calls out to him—a sound that isn’t a part of the forest.
“Hello?”
Dream goes stock still, his heart coming to a screeching halt in his chest.
He knows that voice, too.
Sucking in a deep breath, he slowly steps forward, out into the entrance of the clearing. In front of the waterfall stands a silhouette he is absolutely positive he’s seen before—countless times before. Something tells him that he should leave, that he should run far, far away and disappear from view. But as he watches the silhouette take a tentative step toward him, his inhibitions fall away.
Warmth blossoms in the space between his lungs, all encompassing and full of grief as he opens his mouth.
“Hi.”
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Text
Fives - Anchor
Pairing: Fives x reader
Word Count: 1450 words
CW/ TW: Angst; mourning/loss, death, letter, anniversary, pain, brooding, it’s very heavy and sensitive so please proceed with caution and let me know if I didn’t TW something you deemed necessary; also a bit more hopeful/ light toward the end because my heart couldn’t handle that much sadness tonight
Tags: @chaoticvampirejedi @loth-wolffe @m-o-o-n-s-g-o-o-n-s @tacticalsparkles @imalovernotahater @canwestayinthisdream @wakeupjackthisisntfair @namesmox @badbatch-simp24 @lightning-wolffe @maddieskywalker @for-the-love-of-clones @m-e-w-117 @99squad
@ladykatakuri @firelordillyria @andiebell2023
Notes: I guess I missed him a lot tonight… Sorry for the pain
Some elements included in this fic are inspired from chats I had with @m-o-o-n-s-g-o-o-n-s ; thank you little moon for being an inspiration to me 🌙
Iridescent - Linkin Park
.
0000.
Happy anniversary Fives.
Though I don’t see how it could be happy, when you’re everywhere but here. I never grew used to your absence, I never could; not when you’re haunting my every move, haunting this place and this world, finding your way back to me through faint memories and thousand of faces walking up to my office every day, asking me about my day and if I feel well.
I have to look at the ghost of you, every single time, and lie.
“I’m fine. What can I do for you?”
And I hear your voice again, and again. It tells me about the pain running through your back, the nightmares hitting harder than usual, and the fear eating you alive every time you get out of your hard, cold bed.
But it’s not you. It never is. I never could be.
I stopped buying your shampoo. I couldn’t even bring myself to finish the bottle we had in the shower. It’s still there, hidden somewhere in the bathroom, waiting to be emptied and thrown away carelessly, in such a mundane way one could so easily forget about it. But I can’t throw it away; it’s not mundane anymore.
I hid the jewels too, except for the bracelet. I hate to wear it, but I hate even more to put it away. I just feel…I feel naked when I don’t have it, and empty when I do. I can’t help but see you – feel you – through the shades of blue and black. What was once the purest blessing turned into the worst curse, and I can’t break it. I almost did – breaking the bracelet. I almost did.
I could if I really wanted to; but then I would lose you again, and I just…
I gave your aprons to the boys. I couldn’t stand to see them, neatly hanging in the kitchen. They were silly anyway, and I had no use for them. I’m a doctor after all, not a cook.
I published my thesis on the clones’ rights, and it is being presented to the Senate by Senator Amidala as we speak. I told her I wouldn’t be able to be there for her discourse, and she simply hugged me. I wish she hadn’t.
0527.
It’s been a year, yet it feels like yesterday. Everyone moved on; everyone but me, and I can’t help but be mad. I am mad that they forgot so easily about you, that they brushed you off as “another collateral damage”, another…clone. It’s the way they say it when they try to comfort me.
You were more than a clone. More than a soldier, and more than a man.
You were Fives.
You were my anchor, and I was your ocean.
I miss the way you said it. Coming home to me, tired, features drained and eyes darkened by the horrors of your latest campaign; but always soft and caring through the hoarseness of your voice as you whispered it against my skin. You always found a way to be there for me; for everyone, even when you were losing yourself in your own prison.
I am mad at you because of that. Because you couldn’t stand back for once, be egoistic and think of yourself instead of trying to play the hero in the dark. They killed you because you didn’t wait, not even when I asked you – begged you to. I am so angry because I called you an idiot, and all you could answer me was “I love you too, my ocean. My anchor.”
You didn’t even let me say it back.
1134.
I am mad at myself. You trusted me enough to tell me everything, and you knew I would believe you. And when you tried to do something about it, I called you an idiot. I wasn’t even there with you; I should have been there with you. I could have saved you.
Fives…
I remember the first time you came home. At the time, it was still “my place”, but the moment you stepped in it stopped being mine only. I always told you to come by if you needed; and the one time you did, we ended up laughing so hard the neighbour had to knock at the door. But it felt good. I guess that day I gave you a part of myself, and you carried it with you ever since. I suppose it died with you, too.
I know I shouldn’t be so broody; I can almost hear you, your chuckles filling the room, your hands pressing down my shoulders as you tell me “it’s a celebration, smile for me!”; and the smell of that shampoo tickling my nose as you come close to lay a kiss on my cheek…
But now the only thing I can feel are the tears, and that twisting ache in my chest, burning my skin and ripping my lungs apart. I can’t even breathe correctly anymore, I…
1745.
I’m sorry I had you waiting.
I fell asleep on the table, and woke up because of the cold. It’s always cold in here now. I borrowed one of your old sweatshirt - I hope you don’t mind. I kept them. I almost gave them to the boys, along with the aprons; but then I thought they could always come in handy.
They do. When days like today happens; days where I feel too lonely, where I miss you too much and it just feels too cold, I slip into one and hold it so close to me it almost feels like you’re here. My arms become yours, your faint perfume comes back to me fresh and soft, and I sometimes swear I can feel your warmth against my skin. I close my eyes when I do that, and it stops being a dream for a second.
For just a second, you’re back. You never truly left.
And when I open my eyes again; when I realise what it is all about, I still feel you. I see the bracelet, smell the black tissue, watch one of these B movie we used to laugh at and somehow I feel the best and worst I’ve felt in a long time.
I wish you were here. I wish I could tell you how much I missed you and how beautiful you are; if I could hold you tight, one last time... I didn’t even get to hug you one last time. I didn’t know it would be it; else I wouldn’t have let you go.
Echo is supposed to come around today. He told me he would. He didn’t forget about you either, you know. Neither did Rex, or Jesse, or Kix. Your vode didn’t forget about you. They always make sure to keep you alive, tell everyone about you and remember them of who you were.
Echo always says you’re his best friend. He never uses the past tense. I can’t blame him; I still say you’re the love of my life whenever people ask me. I guess we know deep down these things will never change. We don’t want it to change.
Wait, someone knocked.
2226.
When was the last time we laughed like that? For once, we turned the tears into something better; lighter. I’m sure you would be proud of us.
Of course, you would be proud of us.
It almost feels good to see you through Echo; to find glimpses of you in his smile, the faint spark in his eyes when he retells your best pranks, and the way he chuckles...I almost feel at home right now. With you. Not quite, but close enough.
Enough to make me smile, for the first time today.
Echo says hi. He’s watching me writing to you. He asked me to tell you that Rex lit a candle for you this morning, and the boys had a little something for you; but I can’t know what; apparently I “wouldn’t understand anyway”. So I hope – we hope – that you liked it.  We’re probably going to watch a bad movie and mock the poor acting until we fall asleep, and tomorrow we will…We’ll probably think of you again, but hopefully there won’t be as much tears as today.
I guess it’s a battle worth fighting. Not for the Republic or the Greater Good; not for the Senate or the Chancellor. Not for the Jedis or the Galaxy.
No, it’s a battle we fight for you, Fives. Let us be your anchor, for once, and rest easy now, because more than anything or anyone else out there… you deserve it.
2359.
Happy anniversary Fives.
I love you too, my Anchor.
 - Your Ocean.
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pastelsandpining · 2 years
Text
Whumptober Day 1
all trussed up and still nowhere to go
“you have to let go” | barbed wire | bound
kingdom come - corrupt!zelda au | part 2 
warnings: survivor’s guilt, trauma, gory imagery/body horror (descriptions of Ganon), injury mention, burn mention, blood mention, nausea, head injury, loss of consciousness, acceptance of death, binds, manipulation
____________________
Looking out at the rolling plains, the baby blue sky, the lively green grass, and the flourishing wildlife nearly everywhere he could see, it was hard to believe that Hyrule was decimated a century ago. Where life bloomed now, death had once spread, and it was anything but beautiful when the fields were burning—when guardians and monsters alike chased down any and all living things. It was hard to take down powerful beasts and even more so when they didn’t stay down.
But just like those vile creatures who only wanted to cause chaos, Hyrule never really died either. It was the quick and clever thinking of Princess Zelda that saved them all by containing the beast of Calamity inside of the very place she once called home. She was a thing of myth some hundred years later when people recalled her beauty or her bravery. If it were not for the moons scorched with blood, or the chilling cry of a colossal demon, or the guardians still roving over the land, one could find themselves thinking that the story of Hyrule was nothing more than a cautionary fairytale. What moral could come from such devastating times? Do not run from fate, or you will end up as caged as the Hyrulean Princess? Do not put heart above duty, or you will fall just as the legendary hero? Or perhaps, do not put trust in things you cannot always control?
Really, there was no lesson to be learned. Destruction would come as it did, and there was nothing they could’ve done to stop it. At least, that’s what Link told himself on the many nights he was found unable to sleep, too haunted by the ghosts of his past and terrorized by the stalling sensation of guilt. How solemn that sounded, how pitiful. He did not want pity. What good did that do him, when he’d already lost everything? He’d fallen once, and that cost him his friends, his life, the place he called home–pity would not bring that back. Hymns of brave soldiers and lost princesses would not bring that back. Stories that turned a traumatizing cause of devastation into a life lesson would not bring that back.
The only thing he wanted, months after waking in a shrine to a beautiful voice and with a fractured soul, was peace. He wanted to toss the sword of legend aside and never look at it again. He wanted to curl up in the bed of his Hateno home and sleep for another hundred years, or at least, until the pictures of a burning kingdom and the unholy screeching of Calamity Ganon disappeared just long enough for his mind to go quiet. He wanted to try to be normal, for even just a moment. No hero, no revenge, nothing of the sort.
It was a shame that the image of what he wanted was incomplete without the princess he’d once devoted his heart and soul to. He could not remember her in the way he would’ve liked. Link was granted a glimpse of her face here, a whisper of her voice there, a ghost of her touch when the loneliness became too much. On the few occasions he remembered more, when he could see her so very clearly in a moment framed in time, it felt almost like a dream. A dream that he didn’t want to wake up from. And just like a pleasurable dream that left one feeling warm and special, Zelda slipped through his fingers like liquid, faster than he could process and unable to be stopped. In its wake was a blank space of aching emptiness, right where he knew she should be. She was all he had left, the one thing that could connect him to the world he lived in, because without her, he had no purpose. He had no guidance. He was nothing.
So Link scoured the whole of the continent, from icy tundras to scorching deserts, climbing active volcanos and harnessing what the wild gave him, to grow stronger. He tamed the Divine Beasts and freed the shackled spirits of his long lost friends. He offered his company to the princess on the nights of the blood moon, where she would warn him and assure him that he was doing well, and that she was alright. He sought out the legendary Sword that Seals the Darkness and underwent trials upon backbreaking, painstaking trials to prove himself worthy of the full power the Master Sword was capable of. 
And then, he hesitated. He hesitated because he could not recall what Calamity Ganon looked like, or was capable of. Freeing the Divine Beasts became something horribly tedious, something that stoked a new sort of trauma in him, because the Scourges were certainly not for the faint of heart. The first time the malice surged past him and combined to form a twisted amalgamation of a beast, Link thought he was going to die again, with no hope for recovery this time. Every blight was grotesque, dripping with the glowing incarnation of hatred, and over twice his size. Their sickly skin stung to touch, leaving angry red burns everywhere it could. Their weapons were brutal and chaotically, skillfully wielded, and it was by miracle alone that he’d survived this long. There was nothing quite as agonizing as being shred alive by an ancient demon, only for his fire-filled nerves and ragged skin to stubbornly patch itself back together before his very eyes. Mipha’s Grace should not have been used so kindly on him.
For as much trouble and agony the Scourges were, they were only extensions of Calamity Ganon, small pieces of the monstrosity awaiting him deep within Hyrule Castle. Just thinking about it rendered him on the brink of a panic attack. Princess Zelda had faced it utterly alone for decades, so what if he failed to do the same? What if he could not defeat the beast, and would therefore be responsible for yet another destructive wave? All of the friends he had made, all of the new life that’d bloomed, it would be devastated by his hands if he could not slay the Calamity. What of Princess Zelda, then? Surely it would kill her, too. Picturing her expressive green eyes dulled by the kiss of death made Link feel so nauseated that he could not eat for hours. 
Shamefully and pathetically, he put it off. He searched for that hundredth Korok Seed, he filled the Hyrule Compendium, he ran every single errand and helped every single person that he could, all the while wishing that the darkness of night or comfort of walls could hide him from Zelda’s ever watchful gaze. It did nothing to quiet the screaming in his skull, the longing in his chest. It was only when his guilt had him by the neck that he swallowed his nerves and stormed Hyrule Castle before the courage could leave him.
Every room was empty. Sad, decrepit, and empty. Of course, the Calamity would want the biggest stage it could find and so, to the top floor of the castle he climbed. The guardians were pesky and the monsters relentless, but nothing could have prepared him for the sight of the beast, free of its prison, towering over him like it was starving and ready to feast.
He thought he saw a glimpse of golden hair, precious and fleeting, just outside of his peripheral vision, but the Calamity lunged for his neck and Link was forced to throw himself to the side, searching for any opportunity to counter the attack. For a monstrosity of a size that rivaled the Divine Beasts, it was quick. 
A jump at the wrong time, a split second too late, caused the Calamity’s ancient axe to slice through his skin. It was nothing more than a nick, but it stung enough to make him stumble and gasp, clutching at his arm through his rapidly soaking shirt. In the pause it took for him to steady himself, Ganon had crawled up onto the second floor like some ginormous spider. It looked ready to pounce on him and, Hylia above, there was nowhere he could hide. It would crush him easily. 
But it did not crush him. He wished it had, because it aimed the rapid red dot of a guardian’s laser on his chest, sending a spiral of panic through his spine and into his stomach, where it curled and lurched and made him want to vomit. He raised his shield, but the blast sent him spiraling through the air until his back hit a solid beam, knocking the wind right out of him. The Master Sword was sprawled uselessly out of his grip and he reached blindly for it, but his supporting arm slipped out from underneath him and his head hit the ground with a sickening crack. His vision was blurred. He wondered why he could see something walking towards him, something far smaller than the Calamity. It was Hylia, perhaps, coming to resolve his hideous fate at last. He tried to summon Mipha’s Grace, tried to will the strength back into his body, to will the excruciating pain away, but then Hylia was crouched before him, and her fingers felt so lovely and comforting in his hair that he wanted to fall headlong into her touch. He wanted to let her take him away.
“That’s it,” she cooed softly, brushing the bangs from his forehead. The motion was so jarringly familiar, the voice was haunting—this was not Hylia. “My dear Hero, look what they’ve done to you.”
Link choked on his attempt to speak, trying with everything in him to move, to take her hand, to see her clearly, but her hands pushed him gently back to the Sanctum floor and he groaned, his voice strained with pain. 
“It’s alright, Link,” the figure assured him, threading her fingers through his hair again like she was trying to subdue him. “The pain will fade soon, I promise. Can you do something for me?”
Death must’ve been approaching. He tried to nod, to tell her he would do anything for her, but the heavy ache in his head made it hard to do much of anything. She must’ve gotten his answer somehow, though, because her hands were cupping his face.
“You have to let go,” she whispered, her thumbs brushing against his cheeks. “Let go, Link, and I will catch you.”
She sounded so sweet, so incredibly lovely, and she felt so warm. Link felt his body relax, going completely still beneath her hands, and he wondered, vaguely, if they had all been wrong. If she was not sealed, but dead, ever waiting for her knight to join her so that she may be the one to welcome him into the afterlife. Princess Zelda’s green eyes came into clarity for no longer than a second, but comfort washed over him and he was quite happy that, for a second time, she was the last thing he was going to see.
There was a high pitched ringing in his ears and his head was swimming. Link tried to fight the grogginess that kept his eyes from opening, but he had very little success when the light was painful and his head was pounding. He raised a hand to rub his eyes, but the rough and tattered surface of what must’ve been a rope rubbed against his wrists, leaving them stinging with a brush burn he already knew would scar. That was his first indication that this was not his only time fighting his way back to consciousness. The pain brought him a little more clarity, even with the panic welling up in his chest.
He could see the Sanctum floor below his head, but trying to turn it to get a better look at his surroundings made him wince and squeeze his eyes shut again. He took a shaky, shuddering breath and, in one quick motion, tried to force himself to sit up. All he’d managed to do was make himself dizzy. His vision swam again, leaving him vulnerable and impaired, and he could do nothing but lie there as still as possible, waiting for the feeling to leave. When it did, it took the ringing in his ears with it.
He heard soft humming instead, backed by the horrid squelching of malice and a rumbling that chilled him to his core. Link tried slowly to tilt his head and immediately wished he hadn’t, because Calamity Ganon was among the last of things he needed to see right now. The beast was sitting, if one could even call it that, on the floor just below a balcony, right across the room from him. It seemed content to just sit there, watching him through orange, evil eyes. He tugged on the restraints again, sending another spike of pain down his spine, but he was stuck. Should it pounce, he would be done for.
But it didn’t. It sat there, staring him down. He thought he could make out a smile, cruel and unsettling and awful. It unhinged its jaw then and made a noise, a screech of unimaginable volume, and Link curled in on himself with a quiet whimper.
“I was just beginning to wonder when our guest would come out of his slumber.”
His eyes opened, wide and wild, and he tilted his head up towards where he thought the voice had come. There, sitting on a throne in the deck above the Calamity, sat Princess Zelda. It was the first time he’d seen her clearly in over a century. He could not breathe then, choked by his swell of emotions and the scratchiness of his throat. 
“Then again,” she continued, tilting her head with a cruelly beautiful smile, “our little hero is prone to sleeping in. Do be gentle with him, Ganon, and try to keep your patience.”
Those words meant nothing to him, but the Calamity turned its ugly head back towards Link and growled. Zelda clicked her tongue, beckoning the beast into silence, and it struck a horror into Link so deep that he felt the ache in every joint of his body.
Calamity Ganon was obeying her.
____________________
masterlist | whumptober by day | whumptober by collection | original post
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jabbagabba · 3 years
Text
La La Land
WARNING ⚠️
Do not read if you haven’t watched WandaVison, while this isn’t fully cannon story based, it still has potential spoilers and just general references. Read at own risk!
Heavy angst, the loss of a parent, Tony Stark died ya’ll, alcoholism mentioned briefly, also disassociation is talked about and happens to reader so be warned, if you are struggling with mental illness and feel like this may trigger you then please do not read. Grief is a hard thing and this is going to be very heavy, I’ll try to make sure to include all warnings and triggers but please let me know if I forgot anything.
———
Prologue
The pain of losing a parent is one you were familiar with.
That ache of realising you’d never meet your mother was something that had slowly chipped away at you from the moment the first breath of life entered your lungs. Her name was Loren; a twenty something journalist Tony had met at one of his many parties. You had heard the same four or so stories growing up, Tony’s words slightly slurred as he giggled along to the same old jokes she told the night they met.
“I wasn’t looking to settle down, ya know?” He’d say, taking a final swig as the mood shifted. “But, my God. She made me wanna propose that night.”
You usually cut him off at that point, patting him on the back while trying to pry his hands off the coffee mug filled with scotch. It was hard to fully remember those days; each year making the memory foggy as he stayed sober. You didn’t miss the drinking but rather the stories they spilled from inside him.
Loren was his first love, Pepper was his second.
Loren was you mother, but Pepper was the closest thing to one you could get. She made sure to keep you fed during his long hours of work, tucked you in at night and told JARVIS to keep the star lights above you well lit. Pepper was a great mother, but she wasn’t yours.
Sometimes when you couldn’t fall asleep at night you’d imagine what Loren use to look like. Did she have your eyes? Did she like to read Nancy Drew before bedtime like you did? Did she have dreams of becoming some big star that knew everyone there was to know? Did she have stories tucked away of your father that only coffee mug scotch could reveal?
All these questions would swirl in your head before you were to too tired to keep asking them, the start of a new day washing them away from you completely. Death always had a way of avoiding sleepless questions. You only knew one thing for sure about your mother though.
You loved her, and my god, missed her.
But nothing could have prepared you for today.
The way your heart pulled and squeezed inside of your now hollow chest as your eyes stared below at a lake that had the last piece of Tony Stark floating on it. Nothing prepared you for the feeling of poisonous sadness that flowed through your veins as you held tightly onto a little girl’s hand that was now part of your family, already old enough to feel the full force of your father’s loss. It had been three days and you already felt strength drain from you.
It was all too much. Too unbearable. You didn’t move from standing on the dock, eyes glued to the slow moving water. It wasn’t until a tiny tug on your hand that you even realised you were still breathing.
“C’mon, Happy wants to see you.” Morgan’s small voice fills the silence.
‘That’s right,’ Your think as your eyes come back to focus. ‘I’m real. I’m not just staring at water, I’m at my father’s funeral. I wasn’t snapped out of existence again, I’m alive.’
You heard her say your name and are forced to float back to your body.
‘I can move... I should move.’ You pull from her grasp and turned toward her with a shaky smile.
“You go ahead.” You’re surprised when no tears drip down your cheeks. “I’ll be up in a minute.” Your eyes follow her up the stairs, vision glossy as Happy sits next to her on the porch swing. This cabin was not part of your story, the way Morgan floated around it with familiarity was something you simply would never relate to.
Pepper was Tony’s anchor, Morgan was hers and now yours was floating down a river.
———
Wanda watched in silence as the last of the guests fanned out from the lawn. She felt the familiar tug of pain in her chest as she took small steps toward the two girls on the dock. That look on your face was one she saw in the mirror more times then she would like to admit. As she watched the youngest Stark fall onto the porch swing with a small giggle, her mind snapped back into focus.
This was her only chance.
“I’m sorry for your loss.” Wanda’s voice was steady, a stark contrast from the tears that fell onto her cheeks. You bite back a bitter scoff and choose to simply nod. It wasn’t her fault, it wasn’t anyone’s and yet that was the hardest part. Your father chose to die, chose it. How was that ever going to not hurt? “I know what it’s like to lose someone and even though your father and I had... a strange past.” She put a gentle hand on your forearm. “I know in my heart he loved you.”
Your eyes for what felt like the hundredth time that day filled with tears as you finally looked into hers. Wanda gave a smile as she wrapped her arms around your shaking body and squeezed.
You finally broke.
Wanda was someone you had only spoken to in passing; watching as she tried to crash your father in cars once during the airport fight. You never blamed her for it though, knowing that it was never an intention to truely hurt him. She was barley less then a stranger and yet here she was, letting you sob in her arms as she whispered comforting words in a language you didn’t understand. In that briefest of moments, she was the closest thing to a anchor you had.
For a moment the wave of grief had settled in your body. For a moment, you felt like you could live without him.
“Thank you.” Your voice was muffled by her cardigan, tears finally drying on puffy cheeks as you sniffled. “Thank you.” She moved back and let her hands rest on your shoulders.
“That feeling.” She said with a comforting smile. “That feeling of relief is something that needs to be treasured in times like these.” You tried not to let your confusion show as she moved her hands up to your cheeks. “I can help you.”
“How?” Your eyes widened as you felt a low pulsing float from your neck up to above your ears as she smiled once more.
“But first-“ You were forced to watch in silent horror as her eyes glowed a a deep red. “You need to help me.”
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imalwaystiredzzz · 3 years
Text
C2: Sisyphus happy. Yan Zhongli x Reader
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Warning: Yandere behavior, unhealthy relationships
< Sisyphus happy. chapters >
“Perhaps you would fear if you saw me, and love is all I ask. There is a necessity that keeps me hidden now. Only believe.” - Cupid and Psyche ══════════════════════════════════
You have a dream; heavy and looming as you carry a boulder on your fragile back. It dares to crush you under its weight, while you trudge up a steep path towards the peak of this mountain. The sun glares with its heat like a guard set to watch your endless labor, sweat trickles down like rain on your skin as you pray for water. 
The relief comes in the form of waking from this endless dream.
Breath. Breath. Breath. You breath as if your lungs were crushed and you had drowned in earth, wondering why the familiar pain of doing so was gone. “Slowly,” smooth like velvet and deep that it reverberates to your being, your dear husband hushes next to you observing for any hint - even a twitch - that you might need help. 
“I felt like I had a really long dream,” you say, sitting up from the warm sheets of your shared bed. 
“Care to tell me what it is about?” He is the epitome of patience practiced and perfected, waiting for your reply; though try as you might to remember what it was, the dream had long  slipped from your mind like sand held between cupped hands, flowing and flowing until nothing is left.
“Have I been asleep long?” Voice groggy and eyes a bit blinded by the light, small hands felt the sheets on his side, the warmth and ghost of his form long gone, your dutiful husband, always awake and dressed before you even rouse from slumber. 
Zhongli leans toward you, his gloved fingers graze your cheeks with tenderness only to tuck a strand behind your ear and it is warm as the morning sun that rises on your window. “It’s alright, I know that you need rest after our move.”
You blush, heart soaring like a pure maiden in love with her suitor even though it is none other than your husband who gives you his full attention. It’s supposed to be endearing. It is endearing. Yet there is an ache at the back of your head, that something is amiss.
His fingers, barely touching your skin, made you think of claws, long and sharp, shining with polish. You brush it aside, under the bed long forgotten in the dark, while you would begin your routine. 
You could say that a day does not begin when you wake, rather it is when you make his tea.
He once told you that brewing is an art no less than painting or writing, it is not a matter of simply sprinkling leaves on a clay pot. It is a meditation and a ceremony practiced to bring forth a harmony of earth and water.
You take his words to heart. You take almost all his words to heart and memorize them the way he recites poems to you before bed. You command air to bring forth an aroma that allures the butterflies and with practiced elegance, you hold the Yixing teapot to pour him his cup while Zhongli is nothing but a spectator to this show.  
There are no words exchanged before he sips. It is a little game between you and him, a show of trust you would like to think. Even the heavens could not imagine Zhongli take abhorrent food, not even for his wife.  
He is nothing but an expert, listing the leaves you secretly used and the flavor in full detail like a practiced line from a play. You’d wager that had he been blessed to borne out of better parents, had he been blessed with a better standing rather than a son of a merchant who had a herbalist like you for a wife, he would have stood as the finest in a world of history and art with those deft amber eyes that miss nothing.
Not even the way you look as he leaves through that door with a kiss. 
A kiss of parting as you wave him goodbye, the wind whispering that this is not your simple husband, who goes down the mountain to sell herbs and trade merchandise in the city. He is your foreign husband, who disappears from your presence and hides a secret deeper than the mines the humans could hope to till.
But who is to listen to the wind? Zhongli tells you that it is nothing but your active imagination and you are nothing but (Y/n) (l/n), a herbalist, who belongs to the soil.
This thought repeats in your head like a broken record and rings in your ear. 
It is spring now, you remember looking up and thanking the clouds and the lush leaves of the tree that hide the harsh glare of the afternoon sun. The grass was evergreen and the wind smell of the oncoming summer heat, fragrant with flowers that bloom in the wild.
In spring, he tells you that a gardener is happy for the harvest is abundant and the lands teems with life. In spring, you should be happy.
The plants are alive and they grow easy, they are not shriveled by the summer heat nor do they hide under the ground because of the winter. The flowers and herbs bloom, almost too perfectly as if the little pots were visited by the dendro archcon themselves in your sleep. 
You are (Y/n) (l/n). In spring, you should be alive.
Yet cannot help but notice the absence of the worms nor ants that you once complained about. Once upon a time, you would be maneuvering them all throughout the day away from the lush green leaves and bountiful earth. And sometimes your imagination would play tricks and whispers of their avoidance.
“What cruel little pest,” you tell the soil while planting new seeds until the sun goes down and hides from the skies, when you light the lamps in the house, but most especially by the door, red and glowing like a star against the vast darkness of this lonely mountain.
Hoping, praying that this simple light will lead him back, if he might ever be lost in the shadows in the road. 
Even before he walks through the door, your ears are listening to the whispers of the air that carries his footsteps as it taps the ground so when he opens the door, you are there with a warm welcoming smile and a kiss to his cheeks, heart calm as you know he is safe and he is here. He is home.
You should laugh, really. Your husband who has mapped this mountain like the back of his hand would never be lost but the anxiousness of it never fades. A perpetual worrier, he would call you with eyes lost, staring at yet never really seeing. You know that he has his moments, he doesn’t mean to show, it is fleeting as it comes and no more than a blink of an eye hence you blink and pretend that you don’t see and lead him by the hand to the table neatly set and filled with warm food. 
You dine as he talks about the people he has met and worked with in the city, how the land has begun to thrive and the mora flowing. He tells you of a harbor, where boats are ever growing in size as the days go by and the merchants travelling to do business within it. As far as you can remember, there was never dinner where Zhongli does not talk endlessly about the city - always proud yet humble like a poem, you would think that he talks about it like a child of his own.
“I wonder when will I see the lights of the city from here.” You don’t know what compelled you to say this, maybe it was the stories that he never ceased to tell, maybe it was the lantern that still hung lit outside and darkness that encloses it like a sky with a single star. He pauses,  struck and still as a statue, he looks at you in a way that you have never seen before. 
This smile is is not warm as the morning sun when you wake; it is not tight and constricted when he leaves; nor is it practiced the way it would fall so easily on his visage like a mask; rather this smile dims the glow in his amber eyes and wrinkles the skin akin to sadness and guilt held back.
He reaches for your hand on the other side of the table and kisses it, tenderly, gently as if you are glass that would break with a tap and this is his silent promise that you feel would never come to fruition, “Maybe one day when you are feeling better.” 
The routine ends when your dear husband leads you to bed, the fire closed and you are both in the dark. Tonight he kisses you with unhinged passion, holding unto your small form against him like you were about to disappear into thin air and he is a stone cage. 
“Is it so selfish of me to keep you by my side and never want to let go?” 
He asked barely a whisper above your skin, like a prayer to a god that never answers while the only thing on your heart was pity for your dear husband’s deep sadness, who was an embodiment tragedy that could make you cry.
Had you been born with a stronger body, maybe then you could promise him tomorrow and the rest of your days yet you are nothing but ephemeral so you don’t speak; simply hold his arms, firm and hard under your touch briefly wondering why you thought of scales, mighty and solid as the unblemished core lapis from deep underneath.  Under your fingertips he is foreign yet familiar, in every wrong and right way possible. “You have enraptured me, body and soul. I will always love you, even after I have long passed”
“Is that what it means to love”
“That is what it means to be human.” 
You fall asleep, long before he does. He holds your hand, tightly. 
Step by step by step. An endless walk as you contemplate: why? What sin so great that you have committed for this to be an equal torture. And yet even as millennium of wondering have passed you don’t know, rather you’ve forgotten, memories and thoughts lost in the pain that seeps into the bone, desert in your throat and the eyes that cannot see the peak of this mountain you climb.
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wyn-n-tonic · 3 years
Text
Golden, Like Daylight -- Part IV
Word Count: 1,925 Warnings: PTSD. Drug use. Ben Affleck. Panic attacks. Bullet wounds. Smut (not explicit but it's there). A/N: Your kind words mean literally everything to me and I have been sobbing between the warmth shown to me over this series and also how much I love Francisco Morales and want the absolute best for him.
MASTERLIST | PART: I | II | III | IV | V | VI | VII | VIII | IX
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Gif by: @uuuhshiny
Luna hasn’t stopped wailing since Sunday, the one and only day Frankie said he wouldn’t be able to call.
It’s Thursday and both their lungs are close to giving out.
One Morales woman hyperventilating herself into fitful sleeps, the other only sobbing through held breaths in stolen lonely moments of peace and quiet.
Kristyn had taken up residence in the spare room, making sure Leah slept and ate. She was the one who cashed in Leah’s sick days with the school, forging a bullshit sick note when she went into work.
Leah is currently distraught because her husband might be dead in South America, we don’t know.
That’s what the first one said, dashed out on the keyboard in a petty moment of frustration. She might be the only one of Leah’s sisters who didn't want to lob his fucking head off every time she shed a tear but it didn’t mean she never wanted to do it.
Patient is suffering from a prolonged migraine and intensive nausea. Follow up appointment scheduled for next Thursday at 9am.
That should fucking do it but she’ll have to start checking off the vacation days soon. Dip into family leave for Luna.
Alexa held her on that first Monday, talking her through the panic in a puddle of spilled coffee. The paper cup splashing across their knees in the hallway as concern emanated from the AP Lit room at their backs.
Somewhere at the base of the Andes, her husband was being pried out of a crashed helicopter by the only other men she’d ever truly loved. William was shot, Benny was reckless. She felt it all in her body as she was driven home, helped into the shower, held in her bed but not by the arms she craved.
“He's coming home,” Deana brought dinner that night, her big sister cutting into her steak like she was a child at risk of choking again, “he will do anything he can to make sure of that.”
“What if he doesn’t, D?” Leah’s taken on the stare, everything and nothing all at once, “what if he doesn’t come home this time?”
“I promise you, Lee, okay?” She reaches out to push aside hair damp with tears, “I've never seen a man so in love.”
“Yeah…” she’s quiet, “he promised me too.”
And she told him to stop making promises because he doesn’t keep them.
I think you put a baby in me, Francisco Morales.
The tears well over her eyes, spilling onto already salt stained cheeks.
He made love to her like it was the last time he would ever see her, the last chance he would ever get. He poured his entire being into her, drunk off the feel of their bodies together. She could feel him in the hollow of her ribs, an aching that called out for the comfort of his beating heart against hers again.
Would that be so bad?
She sobbed out, startling Luna’s own ragged cries again, afraid that she would never know warmth against her cold hands again.
—————
“Hey,” they're huddled against the onslaught beneath a barely-there cliff, labored breathing in tandem, “you still with me?”
Frankie’s panic attack came on slowly, a rolling storm in the distance the moment the helo crashed in the valley.
Bad landing.
His fight or flight response has his lungs in a vice grip but he still manages a laugh, “I think I should be the one asking you that.”
“You know it’s gonna take a lot more than a stray bullet to fuck me off,” he’s smiling but Frankie knows how much blood he’s lost, how long it takes for a wound like that to clot without medical intervention.
It’s true, it’ll take a lot more than a stray bullet to take William Miller but that was before, when they had back up. Out here, though? Surrounded by his brothers in arms? Having done what he just did?
Francisco Morales has never felt more alone.
“Fish,” William hits his knee against his, “where are you?”
His eyes refocus on the tepid water pounding all around him, the world coming back as he takes a deep breath, “are you afraid, Will?”
“You gotta be more specific, Frank, I’m terrified of everything.”
He’s quiet when he speaks, “me too,” barely above the downpour.
He sees Will nod in his peripheral, “I know.”
“Will, I’m afraid I’ll never see them again,” and when he chokes, he realizes he’s been crying.
“No, you can’t think like that.”
“I know, but I can’t stop it either, like…” trailing off, he lifts his face to the pressure of the water; it’s the sweetest thing he’s felt in days, “what if this is the last shower I ever take?”
“Fish…” Will reaches for him but he’s cut short.
“No, listen to me. If anything happens to me out he—“
“Nothing is going to fucking hap—"
“Shut up and let me finish,” his rage and sadness is burning hot through him, it takes everything within his being not to choke on air as he speaks again. “If anything happens to me out here, Will, take care of my girls. Please.”
The blond nods his head, heavy with exhaustion and pain, “until the very end of my life, Frankie.”
The relief that spreads through his body is better than any drug he ever tried, he feels himself slipping into an upright sleep, his heart at peace for the first time since he left his bed.
“But,” Will’s voice catches him on the edge of consciousness, “I would also face down the end of my life to make sure you see them again, do you understand me? If the only thing standing between you and a bullet is me, don’t fight. Leave me there and run like hell. You’re going back to your family.”
“But if I don’t make it…”
“Fish,” Will's laugh is drenched in the space between them, “are you saying it’s your last will and testament for me to marry your wife?”
“Fuck off,” his words are clipped, strained, “and don’t call me Fish.”
—————
They still, eyes up to the screen of the baby monitor as they hold their breath for another sound from Luna’s room. The baby settles back into silence, her small chest rising and falling on the grainy feed.
He remembers Leah opening the military grade surveillance equipment at the baby shower, the shake of her laughter as she held onto Benny’s shoulder to anchor herself to the chair.
“Should we check on her?” It’s small, a rushed question of a concerned mother.
“I said a baby monitor, Benjamin, not a prison security camera.”
“Absolutely not,” Ben grabs her hand, “This is better than any of that shit you’ll find at Target. Video means there’s no wondering either, you can just look up and assess the situation, more rest. That’s important, you’ll need to savor the little that you get.”
He pushes a lock of hair from her face, damp with the tears of the day and the sweat of the night, “no, baby, we don’t want to disturb her.”
“Yeah,” Will chimes in, his beer bottle held loosely in his hands, “Frankie should’ve been training you on sleep deprivation this whole time, you’re spec ops yourself now.”
“But what if she wakes up?”
“Well…” the corner of his mouth lifts to close the fan at the corner of his eyes, “it’s a good thing she can’t see us through that thing, right?”
“Francisc—“ the irritation of his name is finished in a heady moan lured from her body by another slow drag of his hips.
The crook of his nose slots against hers as he finds her lips again, the warmth of the room around them is nothing compared to their mouths on each other. Bathing in shared heat, her fingers entwine into the curls at the crown of his head, the other hand palm up to his chest. And as the beating of his heart races towards her burning touch, he submerges himself once again.
His firm grip holds the hinge in her leg, fingers digging into the sensitive skin that fills her lungs with fits of laughter and light. He braces himself against the bed, the aching in his forearm dulled by the soft, breathless whimpers intoxicating his entire being.
His voice is washed out when he finds it, “mi sol,” lips dragging across her own, “mis estrellas.”
Her eyes find his, heavy with admiration and trust. “Francisco,” she is drunk and drowning in the love of this man, “finish me.”
He shifts to cradle her jaw and as he trails his other hand up her thigh, he sinks within her once more. Finding his release against her own, he is convinced they’ll never be able to fully untangle again.
He presses a kiss to her nose.
My sun.
Her forehead.
My stars.
Her lips.
My whole sky.
—————
I think you put a baby in me, Francisco Morales.
He snaps back to reality, Santi and Tom’s voices echoing all around them.
His head is hot, he’s pushing past Will with concern set so deeply in his eyes he fears he’ll break right there.
Would that be so bad?
“Fucking bullshit!” Tom’s face is red, Santi having finally said what all of them are thinking.
He feels the weight of Leah in every fiber of his being, slotted perfectly against his body.
“We're all on the hook for this, are we not?”
I should’ve said no.
“God damn this fucking horse! Stop it!”
All those years blinded by loyalty to authority, Frankie never talked back to his leader but the man in front of him isn’t a leader. He’s a whiny child who’s lost his toys and Frankie hates him.
Biting back what he wants to say, he holds his hand up in a show of camaraderie, “Relax.” His finger quirks up as if he’s scolding a tantrum, “Relax. We’re not picking at the fucking scab right now, okay?”
Tom stares him down, like he’s weighing an argument against him too but Frankie’s done. He meets the taller man’s gaze, this man he would’ve died for.
“One foot in front of the other. Come on.”
This man he almost has died for.
“Let's go. Jesus fucking Christ.”
His true allegiances don’t lie to this man anymore or the gun at his hip. Not the money or the mules. He left that splintered fantasy about twenty feet back.
He’d throw this man over if it meant going home right now.
The money too.
None of it is worth a goddamn thing to him if it means he’ll never see the way that the light bounces off the gold in Leah Morales’ eyes ever again.
The same honeyed flakes in the brown of his daughter’s bright gaze.
I think you put a baby in me, Francisco Morales.
He made love to her like it was the last time he would ever see her, the last chance he would ever get. He wanted to pour his entire being into that woman, ensure that he would live on if lost to the Colombian jungle off a narco's bullet.
Would that be so bad?
He was scared but, truly, would it be so bad?
But it would be because he could truly leave her with nothing. No money, no husband, no father to her babies.
He lost count of the days he hadn’t called.
He makes his way up the mountain, following Tom’s bitching, wishing it was Leah leading him home instead.
TAG LIST: @justanotherblonde23 | @greeneyedblondie44 | @icanbeyourjedi | @princess76179 | @bbuckysbeardd | @notcookiebelle | @knivesareout | @empress-palpat1ne​
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unbreathable · 3 years
Text
The magpie  ❃ B.Barnes
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Summary : As the princess of a prosperous kingdom, you lived a life of luxury and happines. But when war is brought upon you homeland and you find yourself at the mercy of the enemy... just how far would you go to stay alive?
Pairing : Dark King Bucky x Female!Reader
Before you read, please understand that this is intended to be a dark fic. There will be noncon elements, violence, manipulation, lying, blood, gore, death and so much more. If you find any of these disturbing, please click away. 18+ only.
Warnings for this chapter : violence, swearing, rape.
Word count : 2.189
Credit : for the magpie image and the Bucky Burnes gif the credit goes to their rightful creator.
Note : Not me wanting to post something and then remembering I still have exams so yeah... Please take this chapter as a filler. I know it’s a little (ok, a lot) boring but after this, the actual story starts. Please bear with me, ‘cause I still don’t know what I’m doing but I’m trying. I also didn’t have the time to perfect it, sorry. But on the bright side, next week I’ll have a short break, so the next chapter would be better... hopefully. Also I should mention that English is not my first language so please excuse any typos you may encounter.
Thank you! I’m so happy. Really. I did not expect that first chapter to be so well received. Thank you! It means the world to me. I love you all!
 Also, to all the writers from this platform (especially the dark!fic ones) thank you !
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❃ ❃
The darkness that surrounded you was terrifying. It was cold and hot at the same time. It also felt constrincting. There was something heavy on your chest that stoped you from getting that deep breath of air you desperately needed.
You woke up with a gasp. For a moment you felt like you were emerging from bottomless waters. It seemed that the world itself was submerged.You blinked, vision coming in and out of focus. Your whole body ached. It was an unfamiliar sensation, one that you were already dreading. You tried to move your hand, but found it way too hard to do it, and that simple move sent a wave of pain through your whole body. You groaned.
As you blinked one more time, your vision started getting dim around the edges. You felt like there was too much happening around you. There were lound sounds, graoning, screaming but there was also hushed ones, voices that were too shaky to even make one coherent sound. You felt confused. There was a numbing sensation that took over your whole body. It also came with a slight ringing in your ear. Someone was speaking to you, but you couldn’t even look at them, let alone make out a single word they were saying. Everything was either too loud or too quit. You wanted it to stop.
”It’s allright, child. Take a deep breath.”
Somehow, through all the fog that clouded your mind you understood the gentle comand. The buzz of the crowd started to register and as you fought the dizzness and nausea, your senses started to come to you. The first thing you took notice of, was the ruptere of moonstone yellow that illuminated the bat black sky. The second thing was the groaning and laughing of men and the cries of women. You tried to move you head but it made you too dizzy.
A hand rested on your head. You flinched. Even as familiar and gentle as it seemed you couldn’t help it. Your vision was still blurry, but you tried with all your might to focus it.
“Shh!” the old woman whose hand caressed your head, spoke in quiet voice. ”Don’t say a word.”
You furrowed your brows. You were sure you knew her, but the throbbing in your head didn’t let you remember every detail. Even so you felt like you could trust her, you felt somehow safe around her. You felt the same way one would feel around his mother.
Your eyes widened suddenly and your whle body lunged forward on it’s own accord. Your mother, the queen, the war, the king, the invaders. It all came back at once. A nauseating wave took over and you started to throw up. There was a hand at the back of your head, helping you mentain your equilibrium. You grimanced as you felt the bitter acid taste in your mouth and the burning sensation left in the back of your troath.
”Easy there child!”
You weren’t exactly paying attention to whoever was speaking, instead your still blurry eyes took in your surroundings. You were inside the citadel, you could tell that much. The light given by the torches was enough to see the ground that was polished with guts. A vile smell rose up from it. You wrinkled your nose in disgust. Moving you head a little, your breath caught in your throat. Hang all around the walls of the citadel, were heads of men that you knew. Of men that fought bravely to protect their homes and families. You felt sick. And as your eyes fell on the hanged head of Sir Gregor, you felt your heart stopping. If you could you would have screamed, but you were too numb all of a sudden.
A movement caught your eyes. Blinking the blurriness away and ignoring the ache you felt, you turned your face towards the foreign men. It was then, you realized the situation you were currently in.
Lined along the citadels walls were all the girls that were so unfortunate to be caught alive. Some of them were bound, while others were too terrified to move even one single finger. You watched them, even recognized some. Young, beautiful girls laidies and maids alike. At least, some people you knew were alive. You felt a little bit of hope making it’s way in your heart, only to disappear the next second.
Barbaric men were circling the girls like a wolf would his prey. Their hungry eyes were taking in their young bodies as if they were starved. You recoiled when you saw their hand touching their lower body parts through the clothes they were wearing. As a loud scream made itself herd, you averted your eyes.
A little too late though. You already saw that man tearing the top of one girl’s dress. You already saw her scared face as she made to cover herself. You already saw her being thrown to the ground, and her dress torn. You already saw the outline of one’s erect cock entering her without a second thought. And she wasn’t the only one. The screams were horrendous.
You moved back, pressing yourself against the cold wall of the castle, a sharp stone diging into your side. You were petrified. Your breath was too fast and too hallow. You felt like you could faint.
Strong, gentle hands squeezed your shoulders.
“Take a deep breath, princess!” the gentle and quiet voice made itself herd again.
You whimpered as you turned your eyes to the woman in front of you, without really seeing her. She mimicked your breathing till you understood and slowed down with her. Her hand took yours and she offered a sad smile.
”How did I get here?” you suddenly found your voice.
The woman you now recognized as lady Alice, looked away for a moment. She have been the wife of a lord, you remembered. She also have been there the day you were born, the day you painted your first portrait and the day you first learde how to dance. You remembered her as the one that teached you embroidery. A kind and beautiful lady. She was also the one that always stood next to your mother and supported her.
”I’m not sure.” she said as she looked around with teary eyes . ”If I were to guess I’d say you were lucky”
Confusion still filled your mind. But you remembered the way that man rised his fist. You didn’t remember him hitting you but the pain in your body was enough to tell you everything. You never felt anything like it. In a way you were indignated. You were a princess. No one had the right to put his hands like that on you. But as the girls screams started growing louder and louder, you realized that maybe you were indeed lucky.
You wanted to laugh. If this was what luck looked like, you didn’t want to know what no luck was like.
”They found other girls running in the tunnels, so they didn’t think twice about you.”
Something clicked. Now you understood why they didn’t ake an assumption of you coming out of that tunnel. You understood why you were here right now. They didn’ t think you were nothing else but a maid. But that didn’t explain who stopped that brute from killing you with his bare fist. At the reminder of what that man did to you and at your own helpness you trembled. Your head felt fuzzy and you felt like trowing up again. It was too much. You wanted it to stop.
And suddenly it did. All the buzzing, all the mocking laughter, all the grunts of the disgusting man, everything stopped. Only the cries and hiccups of the girls remained. But even those were silenced as one of the savages, annoyed by the cries, smashed a poor girl’s head on the cold ground.
“Shut it, you whore!”
You felt anger taking over you. Oh, how much you wanted the tides to be different. Your father would have head his head, and you would have had the pleasure to watch as his qrotesque face would have asked for mercy. You would have watched as his head fell beside his body. At the image you felt an odd satisfaction. Then you recoiled. What were you even thinking? You never thought about hurting a fly and now you felt strangely euphoric as you imagined someone’s death.
”Try to stay calm” the old lady spoke again, as her eyes were fixated on the main gate of the castle.
As it opened, all the thugs that were literally enjoying themselves not moments ago, kneeled. You raised your brows. The man that brought all of this upon you emerged from inside the castle.
Your castle. Your home. Your safeplace.
You felt again, the now familiar, sentiment of anger. Oh, how you wanted to wipe that mocking smirk from his face. You made to move forward, anger fueling your body and clouding your mind. But you had no power and as aching as your body was, you realized you’d have no chance. So when a hand tugged you back, you were actually thankful.
Cradled into lady Alice’s arms, you watched the king making his glory march. Seeing him so confident and being worshipped by his men made you realize that everything was over. That was it. Everything you knew was bound to change, and what made you want to cry was the fact that you could do nothing about it.
”It was a long fight… ” lost in your thoughts you nearly jumped when you heard the deep loud voice. ”One that could have been avoided if your old crazy king would just have accepted  that it was his time to go”
At the mention of your father you squeezed your eyes shut. How could this man even talk about the king of the most flourishing kingdom in that manner? How could this man even pretend that he would be better? You wanted to scratch his eyes out.  You wanted to see him bleed. You wanted …
”Do you want to know the fate of your precious king? Do you want to know what happened to the one you followed so blindly?” he jeered.
As he moved to one side , your eyes followed him. You saw him grabbing a sack and as he placed on the ground, you squinted your eyes to see whatever was inside. But as he took it out, you wished you had never been born. Your fathers head was held high in the air, by the one that killed him. You gasped for air. And as the men cheered you threw up for the second time. Tears were running down you cheeks, and you wanted to rip everything apart.
”Look at your king!” he laughed again like a maniac. It was a cruel, cruel laugh, one that you were sure would fallow you in your nightmares.
You trembled, and as king James threw the head away without a care, lady Alice’s hand covered your eyes. She whispered words of comfort in your ear but you were lost. Your hands found the ground beneath and you started clawing at it. You didn’t know what to do. You felt nothing and everything at the same time.
There were cheers from every men that was there and a mockery of laughter. You wanted to scream. To take a sword and put it through that man’s black heart. You almost wished you never woke up from that beating. This was unberable. The tears runned dry on your face. And as you let your head rest against the rocky wall, you hoped that this all was nothing but a nightmare. Maybe you were still there, at the back of the castle left for the wild animals to feed on. At that moment you preferred that. You would actually have been thankful for that. But you knew. The throbbing in your head and the pain your body was in, told you that you were very much alive.
”My men, you fought hard, and you deserve to celebrate!” you heard the dreaded voice again, but at this point you weren’t sure if it even stopped. ”So let us begin!”
There were cheers again, but they were merged with screams and cries. You somehow knew what that kind of celebration meant. The girls were dragged to their doom. Some of them were already sporting nasty bruises along their faces, but the savage men didn’t seem to mind as long they rutted into a young body. You turned your head towards lady Alice and her from her face expression you knew she had the same thoughts as you.
“Go princess!” her voice was nothing more but a whisper but somehow you heard it.
You made to stand up, hoping that in all that madness you would, by a miracle, go unnoticed. You had to get away, you knew that much. You had a promise to keep. Trying to mantain your equilibrium you made a step. But that was it, you didn’t get to take another. There was a hand on your throat and you felt yourself held up against the cold war. You coughed. Laidy’s Alice screams were cut short by the sword that turned her head to the side. You watched her hit the ground and when you felt you were running out of air, you meet the cold blue eyes of your captor. The same bastard that hit you, now was toying with your life for the second time.
”Hello, little bird!” you opened your mouth, wishing that you could tell every little thing you thought about the blond in that moment, but when the only thing you did was gasp for air, he continued. ”You know, you’re lucky you’re pretty or otherwise I would have made an example out of you” he laughed.
You started to feel dizzy and your vision was starting to blur again. You brought your hand up to his hoping to take a little of the pressure but he didn’t bulge.
”Now now” he tutted. “I do hope you’ll be a good girl” he tightened his grip as you fought for your last breath. ”You know, he wants the best, and you’re a true beauty even with that bruise I left on your face.” with his other hand he touched your cheek,dragging his fingers across your skin. ”Hell, I would have kept your for myself.”
When he finally lossened his hold you found yourself on the ground gasping for air. There was a burning sensation in your whole body and you felt like your heart was beating in your head. You bit your lip. And when the blond brought you to your feet by your hair, you held back a whimper .
”Aww, don’t be like that.” He smirked. ”You’re gonna get the chance to touch a king, you should feel honored.”
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eternallysarcastic · 3 years
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winter moon/ch.1
Helloooo, I finally decided to post my little Xiao fic that I’ve been thinking about for a really long time. I hope you enjoy it! Feedback is appreciated.
Title is from Erutan - Winter Moon 
   You were slowly assembling the lantern, nimble fingers gently folding the paper, careful not to smudge the small writing on it. Sitting on your knees on top of one of the tall mountains on the edge of Liyue Harbour you let the lantern fly up in the air, joining the hundreds of small lights.
 You sighed as you watched the beautiful scenery, feeling the nostalgia and sadness creeping up your throat. You put your hands together as if to pray, to whom you weren’t sure but you hoped there would be someone higher than a God, than an Archon, hearing your prayers.  
 But you knew there was no one, no one was more powerful than an Archon. 
 Except yourself. 
And yet here you were, the God of all gods, praying for someone else to come and help you. Pathetic.
But you were desperate for someone to hear your wish, to rescue you and so you stayed all night, praying until you could barely feel your legs.
If you didn’t know better, you would have already confronted the man who had watched you the whole night from a distance far off in the forest of mountains. You could feel his wariness and his disdain, for what, you didn’t know. You had already felt the fact that he was no mortal, waves of condensed, rippling power coming from his direction miles away.
Once the sun rose, so did you. Supporting yourself on a nearby rock wall, you allowed your weak legs to gain circulation back to them and dusted off your white attire. You had a long day ahead.
Knocking on the funeral parlour door, you were surprised to be greeted by a short girl with brown hair and red eyes.  
“Welcome, welcome! My name is Hu Tao and I am here to provide you with our funeral services! How may I assist you?” She spoke in a high and excited voice. She seemed a little too hyper to be working for a funeral parlour but to be fair, in all your years of life, it wasn’t the most peculiar thing you’ve seen.
“Uhm...” You were unsure how to continue. “I am looking for someone actually.”
“Oooh? And who may that be?” Her eyes lit up with curiosity. She reminded you of a small child.
But you weren't sure who exactly you were looking for. You haven't seen him in 3000 years, you didn’t know what form he might've taken this time. If it was even a ‘he’, but the stars had led you here and you trusted them more than you trusted anything else.
You had to guess. “A man?”  
The girl, Hu Tao, pouted and crossed her arms childishly. “Everyone’s always looking for Zhongli and never me! Hmph!” You smiled sheepishly at her cute display of annoyance as she stepped aside to let you in.
The parlour wasn’t anything extravagant but you could see it was doing well enough to have all kinds of commodities. You stepped into a giant room with a long table in the middle, and as your eyes followed the length of it, at the head of it you saw a man.
He was sipping his tea, eyes closed and demeanour calm but as soon as his eyes opened, you knew. It was him.
The second you stepped into the room his golden eyes had snapped open and landed on you. He studied you for a second before those same gorgeous eyes widened. The sudden pressure in the room made the eccentric girl beside you obviously uncomfortable.
“I-I guess I’ll leave you two here to talk things out,” she said and she exited the room with hurried steps.
“You...” He seemed to not be able to form any further words and his eyes had filled with the foreign feeling you had recognized as hope. “You’re alive?”
“Have been for some time,” you chuckled and scratched the back of your neck uncomfortably; you really didn’t want to talk about it. “how have you been, Rex Lapis?”
That seemed to take him out of his stupor as he regained his usual calm demeanour, even though his eyes would still not leave your form as if you’d vanish into thin air at any moment.
“It’s Zhongli now,” he cleared his throat “Rex Lapis is no more.” He said and pulled out a chair for you to sit, “but you knew I hadn’t actually passed away did you, neither Gods nor Archons could ever escape your sight.”
“Isn’t that my job anyway? To be an observer and a protector-”, you laughed softly “or at least it was at one point in time. However, that’s not why I'm here, Rex L-, sorry, Zhongli. I need your help.”
“I am glad to offer my help, anyway I can, but you must know – my power is not what it used to be,” he said solemnly.
“What? Why? I knew something must be wrong as soon as I heard about your death but at the same time your constellation stayed as bright as ever.”
“I made a deal with the Tsaritsa. I gave her my gnosis,” he said as calm as ever. As if he didn’t just say he gave away the most precious thing to an Archon. You’d be furious if it wasn’t Rex Lapis himself, the god you’d known for over 4000 years and knew he’d never do anything irrational without having thought it out.
So as calm as he himself was, you asked simply. “Why?”
“Liyue’s protection and its people are my first priority. You might have heard already that the Tsaritsa is planning a revolution, a war against Celestia itself. It would be no easy feat and it will require sacrifice – I cannot allow my people to be that sacrifice,” he sipped his tea. “You must also be careful, as a God born from Celestia itself, once it’s destroyed so will your powers fade.”
“I know, that is why I looked for you. I need to find someone before that happens, my powers are only enough to point me in a vague direction but ever since that night 3000 years ago, they’re a quarter from what they used to be, I am not strong enough.” You sighed and held your hands in a fist over your weakness. Because of that fateful night 3 millennia ago, you were now reduced to begging for help – something your pride didn’t allow you to.
It was quiet for a few moments and you could feel his gaze on you. “I’d ask you what happened but I’m sure you don’t want to talk about it.”
You breathed out in relief, “Thank you, Zhongli.”
“I may not be able to help out much. Ever since I gave away my gnosis my powers have also waned, I haven’t had enough time for them to recover. However I know who can.” He seemed to have finished his tea and stood up from his chair.
Looking at him fully now, you could see the similarities of his stature and face to the one you remembered 4000 years ago. You knew he probably never meant to go back to godhood ever again, but he seemed happy where he was and that relieved you more than you thought it would.
“Shall we go, little lady.” He outstretched his elbow for you to take and laughed softly the moment he noticed your annoyed expression.
“I’ve told you a million times not to call me that!”
The full moon was high in the sky when you crossed a wooden bridge and could finally see the giant tree – hotel hybrid up close. It looked much bigger than you had thought it would at first. It’s height intimidating against the moonlit night sky. You and Zhongli used the elevator and got to the top floor.
“You can see every point in Liyue from here!” you exclaimed excitedly, leaning over the ledge of the balcony.
When you had entered a lady at the front desk had only nodded at you and Zhongli wordlessly, letting you through. You figured this was a place Zhongli frequented often. The view was as beautiful as you thought it would be, the gentle light of the moon covering everything in a beautiful silver colour.
“Rex Lapis, what may I do for you?” You heard a deep voice from behind you, turning around in time to see the boy bowing at Zhongli.
Your eyes met his golden ones and time seemed to stop for a moment. You felt pressure constricting your lungs and an unfamiliar feeling building in your chest. You didn’t understand what was happening, you weren’t even able to think, your head felt lightweight and heavy at the same time. There was a tiny ache right where your heart was supposed to be.
Yet, he also stood there, those golden eyes wide in surprise and something else you couldn’t recognise. His fingers twitched once, then twice as if hesitating before he slowly outstretched his hand towards you.  
That seemed to wake you up from your state and as if you had just jolted awake you shook your head to get rid of that weird feeling that had made every hair on your body stand on end.
“I-I’m sorry, have I met you before?” You asked him quietly, eyebrows creased.
His outstretched hand stopped in its tracks before it fell down lifelessly by his side. His golden irises clouded with confusion for a split second before his expression turned blank, as if that whole exchange hadn’t even happened in the first place.
He turned away from you and towards Zhongli with his arms crossed against his chest. “No, we have not.”  
It was like a lightbulb went off in your head. He was the person who had watched you for the whole night praying during the Lantern Festival! That must be it. You had felt his irritation at you from miles away, so this must be it. You had done something to disrespect him surely.
You had almost forgotten Zhongli was even here before he cleared his throat to get your attention, having watched the whole display in front of him with eyes filled with confusion. You could feel the cogs in his brain turning, thinking, analysing.
“Let me introduce you then. This is Xiao, the guardian Yaksha of Liyue and one of my trusted adepti and Xiao,” he turned to gesture at you “this is one of the celestial Gods, Goddess of the Moon.”
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xxkellsvixen19xx · 3 years
Text
Autumn Leaves Fall While Love Is Fading Andy Biersack X Reader
Word Count: 1,662
Warning: ANGST
Lyrics: Seasons Of Wither By Aerosmith (Except Changed Her To Him
An inextricable sadness can be experienced when love fades. You're left questioning what is left when the one you promised to love forever no longer loves you. I experienced this. I understand this. I know what it feels like to have my heart ripped out, leaving a gaping hole which can never be filled. I know the pain that comes with wondering. What did I do wrong? What didn't I do right? Is there any way I could have prevented this from happening?
The feeling of loss which stuck me whenever I thought about him.
Andy's words still lingered in my mind; Love fades, mine has…
They stung. After everything we'd been through together this is how it was ending. I'd glimpsed that light at the end of the tunnel; the one telling me that I had what I'd dreamed of in my grasp… but now it has slipped away… it's just completely gone. Andy no longer wants me… the realization hit some storms are simply not meant to be survived but designed to strip you of everything and anything. 
Loose-hearted man, sleepy was he
Love for the devil brought him to me
Seeds of a thousand drawn to his sin
Seasons of wither holding me in.
Flashback…..
“Andy,” my voice is thick with emotion because all that we'd been through. Anger is turning into desperation but he can't, he just can’t do this anymore. – “Please. I need you here.”
“I can’t.” his voice is weak and trembling slightly and I force my eyes shut–   the singulat though flashed...damage. Hide. Now. In that moment there was no way to know my world would completely unravel, we were two souls of one beating heart cursed to be untied never to be whole. But the love between us Andy discarded aside as if it were nothing, yet out of our control we would be forever tangled within each other's embrace. 
I didn't exactly understand why he felt differently or what caused him to just without warning drift. All I now knew, was that the man standing before me has changed, there is an indifferent air around him. 
*********************************
6 months ago…..
Andy pressed his chest against my back  wrapping his arms around my waist before kissing the back of my shoulder tenderly. My heart swells at his gesture, leaning back into his embrace.
“I love you” You whisper, Andy’s arms tightening around me.
He presses another kiss onto my shoulder. I let out a small sigh, I breathe him in deeply, taking in his the deep scent of hiscologne. Letting the smell wash over me, I close my eyes, I completely lose myself in the feel of his presence. 
……….
I trudge through the apartment, breath shaky and tears welling in my eyes. But they still don’t fall. I feel completely numb.
I walk into our bedroom, completely catatonic and moving as if on auto pilot. I sit on the bed, staring at nothing in particular. The moonlight streams through the window catching a large photo frame hanging on one of the walls. My eyes are unspeakably drawn to the glinting photo.
It’s our wedding photo.
It’s a candid shot. Me and Andy are staring at each other, smiling tenderly at one another. Andy’s arm is around my waist, his head slightly bent and leaned into mine, almost as if he’s about to kiss me. The white of my dress is a stark contrast against his black suit, the pale pink bouquet of roses on the floor as I hold onto his arms. The sun is setting in the background, both our silhouettes set ablaze with a halo of sunlight.
I remember the day as if it were yesterday. It was the happiest day of my life. Andy sang to me in his deep vibrato voice of his. He danced with me. Held me close. He kissed me telling me he loved me. The memory of him reciting his wedding vows pops into my mind.
I can’t help it. I break down, sobs wracking through my body as I cry into the dark, quiet of the room. My body shakes with the cries, tears flowing freely. I feel the warmth of them run down my cheeks before disappearing into my shirt. I fall back onto the bed, curled into a ball as I weep out all my feelings, all of the hurt and heartache I feel.
I cry and cry until finally, I can’t cry anymore. My throat is raw, now only dry hiccuping as I somehow run out of tears. My heart aches, my headaches and my eyes sting. 
I tried my hardest to remind him why we fell in love with each other  and why we married. But the harder I tried, the more he pulled away. Bit by bit, he slips from my life. I didn't understand why can but he fell out of love with me; I could see it in his eyes when he walked away. He wouldn't buy me flowers every week anymore. He no longer kissed me goodbye. He no longer sent me little messages about how much he loved and missed me. The more I try to occupy his attention, the more he refuted me, and my heart just aches all over again, longing for him to come back to me.
Heat of my candle show me the way
Seeds of a thousand drawn to his sin
Seasons of wither holding me in
Oh woe is me, I feel so badly for you
Oh woe is me, I feel so sadly for you in time
Bound to lose your mind
Live on borrowed time
Take the wind right out of your sail
Time heals nothing it only makes the memories fade away, It’s sad when someone you know becomes someone you knew. 
What hurts more than losing Andy is knowing that he wasn't fighting to keep me. Nothing hurts more than realizing he meant everything to me, but I meant nothing to him. It’s funny how he could break my heart, and yet I can still love him with all the little pieces. 
Love is not as much a choice as it is considered a feeling. Staying in love takes a commitment. The worst thing is not only being told that someone has fallen out of love with you but being told that they haven’t been in love with you for some time. When you find out you're losing your soulmate it's as if every bit of oxygen has been expelled from your lungs. 
Flashback…..
“Do… do you even love me anymore?” I whisper, dread heavy in my bones as the question slips from my lips. Andy’s eyes soften and I see the hesitation on his face as he contemplates whether he should answer me or simply walk away. Finally coming to a decision, he stares directly in my eyes and I can almost feel the next words.
“I don’t know” he replies, the uncertainty reflected in his eyes before he walks away.
I watch him walk away from me, I was trying much harder to save this relationship than he was. In the last few months it was a last ditch effort to go through couples therapy. I know my husband wants to be anywhere but here at the moment. His entire demeanour is closed off, arms and legs crossed as he stares out the window. 
"When was the last time you actually paid attention to your wife?” he asks and Andy balks, unsure of what to say at the sudden tangent. More importantly, he doesn’t know the answer to his question. Andy abruptly turned about to storm out of the office, “If you have nothing to say that’s fine. Just think about it. I believe our next session is in another two weeks. I want you to think about this relationship carefully." The therapist says, his tone final. Andy quickly leaves the room, his mind in a jumble for the first time in a while. 
…………..
For the first time in over half a year, Andy look at me; pays close attention noticing the sadness in my eyes. He swallows thickly, eyes scanning over my face and as if willing me to look at him. He wants to say something, but he doesn’t even know where to start. He frowns slightly at that. You’d been together for almost ten years, so why was it suddenly so hard to speak to you?
All of a sudden, the distance between you two hits me like a freight train. I can feel the huge rift between the two of us. I sigh slightly, wondering when it had gotten so big. Did he always feel this far away from me? 
Why did it feel like I was worlds away, almost unattainable? The two of us had always been close, always been able to speak about everything and anything. There were times when we’d both wake up in the early hours of the morning, still in bed and voice heavy with sleep and speak about the smallest, silliest of things. 
We had spent close to a decade together; we knew each other like the back of each other’s hands. He didn’t look back as the the door closed behind him that night.  Bereft now of pain and I felt the dying spark of embers from our relationship. Like autumn dyes the leaves bright red, I encountered a love that I'd hoped would last longer than a fading breeze. 
Beauty is fleeting, evanescent,  But all of it ended, Andy’s presence in the photos won't fade away as easily with the flow of time.
Because love is ephemeral and memories die, only the photos of him will accompany me until I take my last breath. I can say, I was once loved; Together, in the fires of hell, we will burn with the memories of the most beautiful moments in life, the moments I shared with Andy the remaining proof.
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whosaskingwrites · 3 years
Text
Unrequited (Atsumu x Reader)
A/N: The first one of the series. I'm actually pretty proud of this one for it being the first one on the blog. It went under heavy editing and I think I cut out a whole two pages of pointless dialog. And it still ended up longer than intended. Anyways enjoy!
WARNINGS: Angst. Just angst that's it. And blood mentioned nothing too explicit. One sided love
DATE: Thursday October 22nd, 2020
Details: 4.8 pages 1,792 words
Theme: Hanahaki Disease- The victim begins to have flowers grow in their lungs leading to them coughing up flowers petals this continues getting worse until it causes their death. There's a surgery option to get rid of the flowers but it comes at the price of never feeling love again.
Angst masterlist
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I stared at the ceiling of my room debating on if I was healthy enough for school. As I sat up my eyes drifted to the yellow petals overflowing from the trash can in the corner.
"Sunflowers," I mumbled as I looked at the petals.
They were supposed to represent happiness but as I looked at the blood flecked petals all I felt was overwhelming sadness. Summer break ended today so maybe I could get away with an I forgot.
"Yeah that sounds good," I said as I got out of bed and stretched.
I felt a cough bubble in my throat as I rushed to the bathroom I placed my hand over my mouth coughing into it. Blood seeped between my fingers as I felt the soft touch of flower petals in my palm. I sighed as the coughing subsided I put the petals on the sink counter. I cleaned the blood on my hands and face before heading back to my room. My limbs already felt weak as I walked it was a struggle to make the ten steps to my room.
"No school today," I sighed out as I laid down on my mattress. I let my eyes slowly slide closed as I fell asleep.
"Y/n," In my sleepy haze I could hear someone saying my name.
"Hey y/n wake up," I slowly opened my eyes and looked to the side. My eyes caught sight of grey hair and eyes looking at me in concern.
"Samu? What are you doin here?" My voice was thick with sleep and my speech was slightly slurred.
"What am I doing here? You haven't answered anyone's calls or texts! I was worried so I left practice to check on you," I furrowed my eyebrows at him. "You left practice? Kita's gonna be mad at you," I sat up which caused Osamu to put a hand infront of me and push me back down.
"He's the one who let me go. If anything Tsumu was mad he also didn't get to come," I coughed at that which Osamu sighed at. "Are you sick?" He asked with a raised eyebrow.
"No I'm fi-" "Don't lie to me," I snapped my head towards him and he was staring back at me.
"I-I'm not lying," he shook his head and lifted his palm. Staring back at me was a single yellow petal dotted with red "Yes, you are," I flinched as I realized he'd figured it out.
"How long?" Osamu was quieter now as he spoke. "A year but it didn't get bad until the beginning of summer break," I whispered back as he placed the petal down on the ground.
"Who is it?" I felt everything I'd kept bottled up break down and tears fill my eyes "You already know," my voice cracked as Osamu sighed and pulled me towards him.
He wrapped both arms around me and pushed my face into the crook of his neck. "I know," he mumbled it as confirmation to my previous statement.
I started coughing again pulling back I covered my mouth with my hand. Osamu's eyes widened when he noticed more blood on the petals as they slipped through my fingers. I started heaving as more petals came up. Osamu left the room coming back with a cup of water and a rag. I put my hands down and watched the petals cover my bedsheets there was a thin red layer covering the petals making them look a reddish orange. I didn't need to look in a mirror to know there was a trail of blood leaking down the side of my mouth.
"Jesus...," Osamu spoke as he looked at me. He took the rag and cleaned my face and hands before giving me the glass of water.
"You let it get this bad?" I could see the concern laced in his grey eyes eyebrows furrowed downwards and mouth pulled down in a frown.
"I didn't realize it was this bad," my throat was scratchy as I spoke taking huge glups of water to sooth the ache the petals left behind.
"What are you going to do?" He asked "The same thing I've been doing. Try to forget about it," He blinked at my response "Is that why you've been ignoring Tsumu?" I nodded slowly. "It hasn't worked though,"
Before we could continue Osamu's phone rang. He answered it slowly "yeah?"
"Don't yeah me Samu! You've been gone for an hour! Get back here!" I could hear Atsumu's yelling through the phone. I got up and heading to the hallway with the glass tucked into my hand.
Suddenly the petals came back in my throat and I started coughing. The glass slipped from my fingers as I collapsed to the ground. It shattered next to me and a few shards cut my hands as I placed them on the floor. The petals came out red instead of the normal bright yellow causing small pools of blood to form around them.
I couldn't breath as I heard my bedroom door get thrown open Osamu stood there wide eyed with terror lacing his features. "Y/n! Hey stay with me!" He dropped to my level ignoring the glass that dug into his uniform pants and probably cut his legs. I saw the fear in his eyes deepen when he saw the amount of blood on the ground.
"Y/n!? What's happening! What's going on with y/n!?" I could still hear Atsumu's yelling despite my coughing. Osamu rapidly hung up and dialed someone else.
"Hello? My friend started coughing up blood and petals and I'm think she's dying please send help!" I could hear the panic in his voice as my eyes started to close. I finally stopped coughing and took deep wheezing breaths. Black spots covered my vision as a wave of exhaustion hit my body.
Osamu took my hand "Hey y/n no. Stay awake," I slowly shook my head in response. "Can't. I'm tired Samu," I mumbled at him. "You have to," Was the last thing he said before darkness over took my vision.
"Remove them!" "Sir, she has to make that decision not you," I let out a light groan as I slowly opened my eyes. Atsumu stood next to my bedside clearly yelling at a doctor.
He looked at me giving the doctor a chance to slip out of the room. "Osamu told me. Who is it?" I flinched at the anger in his voice.
A sense of relief filled me when I realized Osamu hadn't told him everything. "I- I can't tell you," I whispered. "No! No bullshit! Tell me!" I shook my head at him. "Is it Kita? Or Suna? No its Ojiro isn't it or-" I cut him off before he could continue. "It's you!" I yelled back at him.
"Me?" He asked slowly. I nodded in response "You can't love me," I sighed looking down "But I do," I felt those flowers again in my lungs clawing their way up to my throat.
"Well stop loving me!" I balled my fists together as a flash of anger struck me. "I ALREADY TRIED!" my throat burned in protest of the yelling. "I TRIED AND TRIED AND TRIED!" "AND IT NEVER WORKED!" tears rolled down my face as I looked at him. His eyes narrowed at me "I can't love you. So get them removed," Atsumu left the room after that leaving me sobbing into my hands.
Osamu walked in soon after "y/n," he whispered my name as he got closer to me. The doctor came in and looked at me sadly. "Are you sure about this?" He asked. All I could manage was a weak nod as I looked at the hospital bed.
"Do either of you know someone who's gone through this procedure before?" Before I could answer Osamu had said something. "Yes...My brother," I looked at Osamu in shock but he was looking away from me.
"Right well I'm going to go check the x-rays and come back and we can schedule the surgery then," I nodded at the doctor as he handed me a glass of water before leaving the room again.
"Atsumu...had Hanahaki Disease?" Osamu finally looked back at me slowly nodding. "He never told me who caused it and he got it removed before telling anyone," I sighed as I looked away.
"You know Samu I used to like sunflowers," I whispered staring out the window. "They were never your favorite flower though," He responded back to me. "You remember?" I turned to him as I asked to discover he was already looking at me. "Yep. Buttercups," I laughed as I nudged him with my shoulder "You only remember because it has butter in the name," He chuckled back at me "You caught me," we smiled at eachother as the doctor came back.
The doctor had a sad look in his eyes as he looked at me. "I don't have good news for you," The smile on my face fell as I looked at the doctor. "The disease has progressed too far for us to remove it," I gasped "W-what?" The doctor looked at me as I felt tears slip down my cheeks "I'm sorry but there's no way we could remove them without killing you," I turned and buried my face into Osamu's chest to hide my tears.
The doctor left as Osamu ran his fingers through my hair and down my back. "Samu...," I whispered and he hummed at me "I just wanted to say thank you for being there and I love you," I mumbled as I began drifting off to sleep the last thing I registered was Osamu responding to me. "...Love you too y/n,"
*third person p.o.v*
"You know Samu this is my fault," Osamu's eyes glanced to his twin who was sadly looking down.
"If I hadn't been a coward and told her...She would still be here and I could still love," He watched Atsumu set a bouquet of buttercups against the cool marble infront of him.
"Her favorite...Maybe that'll comfort her," Atsumu walked away while Osamu looked back at the grave.
Y/n l/n DOB: (b/d) 'She loved until the end'
Osamu felt a cough in his throat as a small yellow flower landed in his palm. It was covered in blood as he stared at it. It matched the ones in the bouquet and a sad laugh left Osamu throat.
"Buttercups huh...," He let the flower leave his palm with the wind as he followed his brother a small sad smile on his face as he whispered one last thing to the wind.
"I love you y/n,"
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TAG LIST: @wonhomarshmallow
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daddy-chiluc · 3 years
Text
No Future (unedited)
Tw: Breakup, depression
Vent fic
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What was he to expect? He knew from the start it’d fall apart. Crumble and wilt away, not giving them nearly enough time to bask in each other’s love and warmth. No...there would never be enough time. It was all just faded memories, moments once filled with an untamed happiness turning sour in his mouth, his throat soar as the screams he wanted to let out where trapped. He was trapped. Trapped in his own mind as a pile of regret sat along his once confident shoulders. His burning eyes becoming dark, desperate to hide whatever painful memory had come to mind.
They were fresh. New. The moment he found out he was a Harbinger though it was too late. He was already so deeply in love it filled his lungs, drowning him, grasping at his heart strings and violently pulling him down deeper and deeper. He shouldn’t have said anything. He shouldn’t have asked him to be his partner that night. Maybe they were just high off of Valentines day. High off of the floating, elated feeling of finally being loved by someone. Trusted by someone. Just reminiscing was enough to make his eyes burn. He didn’t want to remember. He never wanted to remember...but it felt like he didn’t have a choice.
They flooded him, swallowing him whole as he gasped for whatever remaining air was left. He felt weak. He should have done more. Why didn’t he do more? Childe could be suffering even more now. Suffering without his aid. This idea alone was enough to cause many sleepless nights filled with anxiety. The suffocating feeling of loneliness returning to its perch overhead. They never had enough time.
His memories were vivid. Vivid and gut wrenching. It made his fingers twitch and his work take up his desk space. He couldn’t distract himself anymore...at least not for awhile. No matter what he did or where he went, there’s was always that faint memory of him haunting him. Even on his darkest evenings, he’d go to his closet and grab the maroon shirt that hung idly behind. Burying his nose into the soft fabric his ex lover left behind, tears staining the dark fabric as his scent overwhelmed him, a broken sob breaking his throat.
He should have done more.
A sad smile caressed his features as his grip tightened on the forgotten shirt. He laughed coldly as he remembered his first kiss. Hidden in the restroom of the tavern as Childe looked at him so fondly. A look of pure adoration and love — the look he gave him burned into his memory as he remembered the Harbinger gently rubbing his thumb along his cheek while he held him so closely, the silent fear of letting him go dancing quietly behind his façade. A fear Diluc didn’t notice. A fear Diluc chose not to notice...because he himself feared the same thing.
He remembered the soft kisses they had, they were long and amateur, his heart fluttering like a teenager. He shouldn’t have been so elated. He should have ended it while it was still fresh...but this thought hadn’t come to mind at the time, far too enamored in Tartaglia’s love. His love blinded him.
His body tremors as recalled their first, and last date. The way they held hands. That’s when he got the maroon shirt. It was a birthday gift. That and many other items. But that was something he held onto dearly. Far too scared to let it go, terrified that he’d forget him. Forget what they had. Perhaps a part of him didn’t want to let it go. He wasn’t ready too.
He tried to recall their moments together. He remembered the day he was horribly sick. He wore his shirt all day, a heavy, nauseating feeling settling in his throat. He returned to the winery, Adeline aiding him as his workers took care of his work for the day. Childe had written him letters that day while he was out at Liyue, too far from Diluc’s reach. He had sent over music for Diluc to listen too, aiding him in finding sleep before he woke up heaving over a toilet.
After that it felt like things started to go downhill. Diluc sending and receiving letters everyday. Good mornings, afternoons and nights. He was so deeply in love with the harbinger that it became reckless. He listened to his stories. Storied of home and pets...stories of himself. How he had dated another male before the Fatui found out. That should have ended it right there...but he was so determined to make them understand.
Six months. Six months was all he needed. An absurd amount of time that was never achieved. The rest of his memories were blurry, his mind swarmed with that day. He had written and sent several letters to Ajax that day...but it wouldn’t subdue that uneasy feeling that filled the pit of his stomach.
The anxiety he felt that day. All he wanted was for him to be okay. To be alright. He didn’t care if he didn’t love him anymore. All he wanted was for him to be safe. Hours ticked by as he checked in with Adeline over and over, asking about any letters from Ajax and always getting the same answer. No sir.
Every time those words left her lips his heart would ache. Where was Ajax? He negotiated with himself, trying to come up with some logical situation. Perhaps he was just on a mission, or, maybe, Ajax had finally gotten tired of him. Diluc started to shut down. Becoming cold in his words and actions as he worked and worked, anything to push away whatever thought haunted him in the back of his mind.
When Adeline rushed to him with a letter however...and overwhelming sense of relief washed over him, perhaps a little too quickly. When he opened the black envelope, he quickly noticed it was from the Tsarista. He read through it over and over.
Ajax had ran from the Fatui? He was safe but...this woman could have very much so seen every “I love you” that Diluc and Ajax exchanged. Every intimate moment and their private love story was out on display for all of Snezhnaya to see. The red head’s body was numb. This was it. This is where it was to end. Only lasting for three, almost four months. It became apparent to Diluc now. It didn’t matter how long they waited...Ajax would never be able to be with Diluc. It was too dangerous.
Diluc had watched the fire mindlessly, asking Adeline go put any letter from Snezhnaya aside until morning. Even amongst the fire, the book that sat heavy in his palms wasn’t enough to distract him. It would never be enough. He couldn’t feel his heartbeat or focus on the task he had given himself. It was so short lived Diluc couldn’t do anything. He felt helpless.
He wasn’t sure when, but soon enough Lisa, Jean and Kaeya had silently made their way into his winery. They saw the winemaker sitting absentmindedly in the seat wearing a deep maroon shirt as he seemed almost lost in the flames performance. They were silent, the pain Diluc felt seeping just under they’re skin. The Uncrowned King of Mondstadt was happy with the Harbinger. Genuinely happy. He smiled and laughed more when he was with him, far too affectionate for a single person to even recognize that it was in fact Diluc with that Harbinger.
It was late now, midnight, and Diluc had disappeared to do his nightly routines. Lisa, the kindhearted woman she was, searched for him only to hear broken sobs from his bathroom as he sung a Snezhnayan tune through his cries. Deciding to let him have his space, Lisa notified Jean and Kaeya, a look of dismay dancing wearily along their features.
Too engorged in the agony the night had brung, they fell victim to sleep while Diluc grasped at the cold empty spot in his sheets. Where Ajax once laid as he quietly played the tune in his room, silently crying himself to sleep, slipping in and out of what was once peaceful to what was now a pained filled memory.
By morning, Diluc was too scared to leave the comfort of his linens. Too scared that if he left, what was left of Ajax would disappear too quickly. He wasn’t ready to let him go. He wanted to see the world with him. To move far away and own pets together, calling them their children and creating their own family out in the middle of nowhere...but now it was all just a dream too out of reach for Diluc to hold on.
Carefully, Kaeya walked in and held Diluc as he broke down in his arms. He had dealt with this woman that had intentions of hurting Diluc. He had read every note this woman had dare sent to the winery and disposed of them, a brutal back and forth of letters that should have taken days but it all happened within an hour. Diluc wouldn’t leave the bed. He would never have a happy ending...he couldn’t. The archons wouldn’t allow him to have a happy ever after.
Hours ticked by as he hugged Childe’s pillow, resting in his spot on the bed as he stared out the window. There was never enough time. He laughed bitterly at himself, Jean had even warned him this would happen and he made no effort to listen. No effort to put a stop to whatever forbidden love story he had hoped to achieve. Here he was now, lying pathetically in his bed because of this impossible love story.
Night had fallen once more and he had never been happier to get a letter from Ajax. He read it over and over. The Harbingers didn’t care for their little escapade...the Tsarista, however, would take “time” he said. Time. Something unknown to Diluc. There was no such thing as time. He knew if he stayed Ajax would only get hurt. He already suffers so much, Diluc didn’t want to add to that list if it wasn’t necessary.
And so...he wrote his, hopefully, final letter. He told Childe that he believed in him from the start, encouraging him to chase his dreams and to be himself even if others said not to. At that, he wished him the best of luck as he sent the letter, signing it and crying on his front porch.
They didn’t have a happy every after. What they had was no future at all. Their moments trapped behind an hourglass that would flop over and over in their minds. That’s all it was.
No future.
I’m sorry if it’s messy and a little ooc. I needed to vent pretty badly and Chiluc is my comfort ship and this situation that I went through is kind of the reason why I ship them at all.
Ah, the art of forbidden love.
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