“Fred!!!! Ginny and Harry are going to be here any second!!!” You can hear Molly shout and you chuckle, trying to untangle yourself from Fred’s arms.
“Babe you need to get up and help your mom; or at least show your face.”
“No. I want to stay here with you.”
“If she comes up here it’ll ruin the announcement for lunch.” You nudge his hand and it rests over a barely visible bump you have.
“Fred..” Molly hisses and you can feel him tense, pulling the blanket back over you so it hides your stomach and he struggles to pull his pants on and reaches for a shirt that you’re handing him. You’re already dressed in one of his shirts and he grins a little.
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It was so hard to choose between God AU and Mafia AU. Im really interested to see how the others are in the Mafia AU. How about Riddle X Reader?? is the reader a baker? chef? since I know for vil, the reader ran a boutique. (low key want to ask about all the dorm leaders but do not want to overwhelm you)
👀👀👀👀
I'm just sayin'
(Also thank you for being so sweet??? You don't have to worry about overwhelming me btw, I literally take things at my own pace on here, lord knows my old time followers know that (love you all btw!) djdkd)
Also I hope you don't mind the weird scenario/HC hybrid, I just couldn't get a coherent thought put together because I got too excited jsdflkjs
***
“Trey,” Riddle suddenly said after he took a sip of the new tea that they had gotten: the mellow taste of apples, the sharp crack of cinnamon that followed soon after, and the sweetness of vanilla soothing the spice. Simple perfection.
“Yes?” Trey glances at his Don, the man in the middle of cutting tarts for the both of them.
“Where did you get this from?” He picks up his tea, staring down into the golden brew before taking another sip.
Trey’s eyes crinkle at the edges as he smiles at him. “It’s good isn’t it? The person I got it from runs a very… special café.”
Riddle raises his eyebrow. “Special, how?”
A chuckle leaves the older man as he places the slice in front of him. “I’ll leave that up to your imagination, Don.”
Riddle pouted taking the plate. “That’s not an answer.”
Trey takes a sip of his tea, his gold eyes glinting with mischief. “I’m sending the newbies to go and pick some more up this afternoon if you’d like to accompany them?”
“Really?” Riddle’s eyes shine with excitement and curiosity.
Trey nodded.
When I say Ace and Deuce almost shit themselves upon hearing the Don Riddle Rosehearts was tagging along with them- they really did. Ace had to swallow down the scream of frustration because now he wasn’t going to be able to screw around at Prickle’s Café like he usually did. Deuce was already trying to gain composure and prove himself to the Don, psyching himself up to mentally battle with what was held inside the café.
Riddle was very confused with how they were acting as they made their way to the warm colored building: from him having to yell at them to slow down their walk and not rush to them both taking deep breaths a few times before opening the doors- it threw him for a loop (he was also rather surprised about just how close to their club you were; just a mere three blocks).
But when he stepped in, everything suddenly fell into place.
It was a warm place, the interior a palette of warm browns, tans, and earthy greens; long, winding, clear tubes ran in between the tables and the floor, low enough that someone would trip on them and cages were built into the walls. All of them holding beady eyed Hedgehogs.
He had to force down the squeal that threatened to escape him, his ears turning pink at the sheer effort of it (though Ace and Deuce were both busy fawning over the hedgehogs, who seemed to remember them, and scurried to meet them).
A bump at his boot startled Riddle and he looked down to see a little hedgehog attached to a set of wheels bumping around his feet. He couldn’t fight the smile that spread across his face at the little thing looking up at him with its nose wiggling at him.
“Ah! Prickle! There you are!” Came a voice and he looked up to see you in a brown apron, a cute cartoon hedgehog peeking from the bottom of it. You’re quick to rush over and pick up the little guy and hold him, brushing through his quills with a toothbrush. “They run so fast, right? I barely looked away for a second when he bolted-” you look up from Prickle to look at the guest- “he must’ve heard you guys come in.”
Riddle’s mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water for a few moments before Ace slides in with a smug smile. “Yo, (Y/N).”
“We’re here for that order.” Deuce adds, a hedgehog in his hands, this one missing a front leg and an eye yet it's still crawling all over his large hands.
“Oh! The apple cinnamon one, right? Let me go grab that for you.”
“I- ah- wh- what is this place?” Riddle wants to slap himself for stuttering but he can’t help the heat that flushes his cheeks a light pink as you turn back to him.
“It’s a hedgehog café, boss.” Ace supplies, a smug smile on his face.
“A hedgehog sanctuary, honestly.” You add. “All these little guys are either from bad homes or just people who couldn’t take care of them any more. People can buy them and the supplies here if they get particularly attached to one. I just happen to sell teas and treats here too.”
He nods dumbly. So, this is what Trey meant by special.
You managed to get his name out of him after you got the order for them, and also convinced the three of them to try some of your baked goods as you had some new things you were trying out.
Our boy Riddle was very excited to find out that you were an excellent baker.
He was even more excited to sit with the hedgehogs and play with them, becoming rather attached to a blind one as he milled about while they ate the sample of apple crumble you put in front of them.
After you’re first meeting, Riddle would not shut the fuck up about your café or your hedgehogs. He would swing by there every time he had time, always in a disguise as to not bring attention to himself or your café.
(Ace gives him shit for it all the time and is almost always on cleaning duty now because of it- he’s so fucking stupid I CAN’T-)
He ends up adopting the little blind one, naming him Tart, and he follows all of your instructions about taking care of Tart to the T. It’s low key ridiculous but you appreciate that he treats Tart so well (E X T R E M E L Y W E L L- that little guy is so pampered, he has his own room that’s been modified just for him in Riddle’s house).
Riddle does keep you in the dark about what he does for a living, Ace and Deuce have been close to letting it slip, but Trey or Cater usually stop them before they do.
Riddle has a tendency to buy a whole bunch of new toys and beds for the hedgehogs and he’s always willing to listen to you when you talk about them.
Warning: will get so fucking pissed about some of the stories you tell him, he’s swore that he’ll protect all these hogs if it’s the last thing he does.
Riddle finds Prickle’s Café to be a soothing balm for the type of work he does. It’s precious, really. Absolute baby about it.
Summery: Feelings are hard and Lilia is having too much fun with Sebek's crisis
Lilia smiles, watching as the children milled around and mindlessly playing with each other and the toys that are scattered along the floor. “Aren’t they cute, Malleus?”
The taller of the two nods, a soft smile on his face as he spies you waddling about, holding a tiny poof ball of a kitten named Grim. “Yes. Very.”
“Not just little (Y/N), silly.” The old fae remarks, but the peaceful smile never leaves his face. He watches as you toddle over to the tiny pool that sits in the middle of the room, holding your hand out to a sniffling Azul- the chubby octomer grabbing hold of it and whining to you. You place Grim down, snoozing away despite the volume of Azul’s whimpering, and reach up to wipe away the inky tears. You coo at him, pressing your face against his, making him giggle. You pull away from him as soon as he calmed down, the twins coming to say hello and touch your clawless hands with their clawed ones. Floyd tries to pull you into the water but (much to Lilia’s and Malleus’ relief) Jade stops him. You wave to them and pick up Grim before making your way to Leona, who had shoved himself into the corner, laying with his face to the wall.
The old fae watches as Ruggie and Jack both nuzzle against you as you hand Grim over to Ruggie to hold. “You know,” he smiles at how Leona immediately looks at you when you press your hands against his back. “We never have to worry about the boys when they’re around. It’s wonderful. But...”
“But?” Malleus parrots, following Lilia’s gaze to where a little green haired toddler glares at the beast babies, his chubby fists curled into his shorts. “Oh.”
“They do have a way of gaining admires, don’t they?”
“Seems so.” Malleus’ eyebrows raise as he watches Sebek stomp over to you and grab at your arm, pulling you after him. Ruggie, Jack, and Leona hissing and growling and a little Grim yawning as he finally begins to wake up.
“‘Bekie-” you begin, having trouble keeping up with his pace.
“They’re trouble!” He declares, placing you next to a sleeping Silver in the little foam castle. “I don’t trust them!”
“B-but they’re my friends.”
“You should get better friends.”
Your lip wobbles. “I don’t like you talking about them like that.”
“It’s true! You should get better friends! Those ones aren’t worth anything!” He begins to shoot into a long winded tangent as he tugs at your arm to sit down with him, but you pull away, whimpering.
“N-no, they aren’t. You’re being mean, ‘Bekie.”
Sebek is stunned for a moment, seemingly incapable of speech before his round cheeks flush and he huffs. “No, I’m not!”
“Mm-hm. Right now you are.”
“Am not! You’re just dumb!”
You take a step back, your lips wobbling harder and your eyes turn watery. “‘Bekie… I don’t want to play with you.” You whisper, toddling out of the castle’s door with a drooped head and sniffling.
He stares, mouth agape, before he puffs out his cheeks, eyes shimmering with unshed tears as he crosses his arms and turns his back to the door. “Why’d they leave?”
“Because you were being mean, Sebek.” Came a sleepy reply.
“I was not! She’s dumb for trusting them-”
“So that’s what happened.”
A yelp escaped the two boys and they whip around to see Lilia smile at them, laying on his stomach and holding his cheeks in his hands. “Hi, old man.” Silver said after calming down.
“Hello, little one!” Lilia turns to look at Sebek, who shifts in his spot awkwardly. “So, you got mad at (Y/N) for having friends-”
“Dumb friends! They’re dangerous and not to be trusted!” The boy is quick to climb to his feet and walk over to Lilia. “My grandpa said that I had to watch out for suspicious people and those people are suspicious!”
Lilia bursts out laughing.
“It’s not funny!”
“You’re a terrible liar, Sebek.”
He sputtered. “I’m not lying-”
“Are you sure it’s not because you're jealous that our little (Y/N) isn’t paying attention to you?”
A screech leaves the boy making Silver jump and Lilia let out another round of laughter. “No! That’s- I- no!”
“Ah, so if Jack and (Y/N) were to get married you wouldn’t have a problem with it?”
“No! They can’t do that!”
“But why? It’s not like you have a crush on her or anything.”
Sebek looks down, his features a mess of confusion as fat tears rolled down his face. “I-I don’t want them to marry anyone… because… because…” He sniffled and a shuddering sob leaves him.
Lilia sighs, his smile softening as he pats Sebek’s spiky hair. “You know, you really hurt their feelings? If they’re important to you, you should treasure and respect them, silly boy. Now, after you calm down go and apologize to them.” Lilia pulls a tissue from his back pocket, holding it to Sebek’s nose.
Sebek nods, blowing into the tissue. “O-Ok…”
“Good!” Lilia slips out from the opening, sitting on his calves and giving Malleus a thumbs up. He sent one back with one hand while the other patted your head. You looked up at him, clinging to his pant leg. “Is ‘Bekie gonna be ok?”
He smiles down at you and nods. “Of course, little starlight. He’ll be out in a bit.”
You nod. Before looking back up at him and asking: “do you think he’ll like my gift?”
He looks down at the little ring pop in your hand. He laughs. “I do believe so.”
You smile up at him until you hear a familiar loud voice yell your name.
Sebek runs toward you with his arms splayed out, almost tripping on his own little feet as he cries. “I’m sorry! You aren’t dumb!”
You sniffle and run towards him with your arms out, “I’m sorry too! You’re not mea- oof!”
The two of you collide and tumble to the ground, crying.
“(Y/N)!”
“‘Bekie!”
Malleus herds the children waddling to join you two (namely Kalim, who he almost didn’t catch in time as he tried shooting past him in a white and red blur) out of the room to give you two some alone time. Lilia stands watch with a hand over his mouth, his face scrunching up in an effort to fight off the urge to squeal at the display.
You gasp, pulling away to dig through your pocket. “”Bekie! ‘Bekie! I- um- I got-” you present the ring pop to him- “I got you this!”
He stares at it before his face flushes a deep red and he looks you in the eye. “Yes!”
Lilia lets out a high pitched squeak that dissolves into a roaring cackle at the way you blink. “What?”
But Sebek isn’t listening, instead choosing to rip the ring pop out of the package and slip it on his ring finger. He nods with a happy smile and flushed cheeks. “I will treasure it always.”
“You’re supposed to eat it though?”
Malleus walks back in to see Lilia doubled over, screaming: “my stomach!” and a Sebek arguing: “you can’t eat a wedding ring!” He chooses to walk back out with the children in the hall.
Also if you want a continuation of this (or fluff, I'm just addicted to angst, because apparently I'm a DUMBASS EMO--) or anyone else feel free to ask! I fucking love this AU tbh
(Also no I'm not done with April Brain Rot, I'm just working on one that's like- it's turned big as FUCK- ;0;)
The chime to your door rang loud and clear. A happy bounce to your step as you go to greet the first customer of the day (or Dol and Sul). “Good morning!” You say as you step out from your back room, rounding the corner of your little counter to see the two men who walked in. They’re both big, firm mouths and sharp eyes. Your brows furrow for a moment until you school your expression back into a professional and welcoming smile. “What can I do for you two?”
The one to the right offers you a closed eyed smile. You count the piercings that line the cartilage of his ears as he says: “ah, we were looking for something a little…” His hands trail over the purple fabrics you have. Tapping at a roll of fabric that was lavender, light beige roses outlined in a gold decorating the expanse of it. “Delicate looking.”
Seven. You count, frowning. “Delicate, hm? Anything in particular it’s gonna be used for? A dress? A suit? That might help narrow it down.” You stand next to him, skin pricking with the sensation of eyes boring into you. You fight the urge to glance back.
“A suit. For someone with delicate features. Almost like a porcelain doll.” The man says, his thumb rubbing the patterns of the fabric.
“Are they flashy? You seem to really like that particular one, sir.”
He lets out a laugh, something deep and wispy. You don’t like it. “No. It just reminds me of someone.”
You hum. “Any color you have in mind?”
“Red.”
“Red, huh?” You press your finger to your lips, turning around just to almost walk into the other man. You forgot about him. You gulped as you crane your head to look up at him. A shaky smile making its way onto your lips. “And you, sir? Are you looking for anything in particular?”
He tilted his head, his pupils almost being eaten up by the dark browns of his irises. His frown deepens-
You let out an ugly noise as the air is caught in your throat by the squeeze of a hand around your throat. The chill of his rings burning your skin as he raises you by your neck until your fingers dangle above the floor. “Why don’t we just deal with them?” The man hisses at the way your nails dig into his wrist and he squeezes harder. You can feel the slight bulge of your eyes and the blood rushing to your ears in a panic.
“No, no.” The other’s voice sang out, thin hands coming to wrap around your waist and squeezing. You felt dizzy and sick. “We need answers first- you can’t just expect someone to talk through brute strength all the time, hm?”
“Shut up. If we beat them- they’ll talk.”
“Not if you kill them first.” The one with piercings raises his eyebrows as he watches the way you claw at the ringed man; drool dripping out of the corner of your lips and your eyes squeezing shut, tears slipping from your lashes and onto your red cheeks. He shivered, mouth watering. “I can see why Schoenhiet likes them so much.” His finger traces down your spine and you flail your legs at the uncomfortable shiver that shoots through you.
“D- don’t t- tou- hhh-” you try to choke out only to have the ringed man tighten his grip, your words becoming an awful gurgle.
“Where’s Shoenhiet.” He demands, loosening his grip on your neck.
You gulp down saliva while sucking in air into your aching lungs. “I- I don’t know who- who that is!” Your voice goes high near the end as the grip around your windpipe tightens again.
“Don’t fucking lie to me.”
“I- I’m not-”
Your legs kick and you hear the way your bones creek against each other- one thought floating above the panic that floods your body: they can’t know- they can’t know where Vil is.
“You’re going to kill them.”
“They just need to be a little more force.” The ring man tightens his grip to an impossible tightness, his knuckles turning white and the skin around your throat turning a dark purple. A wheeze escapes your open mouth, the edges of your eyes turning blurring into darkness.
You suck in breaths, greedily heaving in huge gulps of air. You’re suddenly dropped to the hard ground, your body landing with a loud thud! And numbing pangs of pain jumping around your bones. You squeeze your eyes shut. A foot settling on your head.
I hope… Vil won’t come.
***
Vil bounced his leg, impatience and something… anxious settling at the bottom of his stomach. The night lights of the city blurred past him out of the window of the limo.
“Roi du Poison, is something bothering you?”
Vil’s eyes drifted to Rook, the hunter unusually stone faced as he waits for him to answer. “And what of you, Rook? You’re not your usual self.”
Rook lets out a quiet laugh. “You didn’t answer my question.” He claps his hands. “But to answer yours- I’m…” his face falls suddenly. “There’s something wrong, non?”
Vil raises his brow.
“I am worried about our tailleur chéri.”
“You too, it seems.” Vil says, his fingers pinching his chin.
Rook hums, cradling his crossed knee in his intertwined hands. His green gaze drifts down to his lap. “I’m afraid.”
Vil’s eyes widened looking up at Rook. “You are?”
He nods. “Dol and Sul… they haven’t heard from them all day.”
“They haven’t?” He could feel his face heat up in barely suppressed frustration.
“You cannot blame them, Roi du Poison. They have been busy with preparations. They’ve been worried sick.”
Vil grows quiet, swallowing, before he turns to the radio type device next to him and presses the red button. “Epel. I need you to take us to (Y/N) Boutique. Make it snappy.”
The radio crackles. “Got it.” Epel’s says. The limo lurching as it picks up speed. Vil could hear the blares of horns outside the car, but he couldn’t seem to care right now. His leg bounces quicker, the anxiety molten in his tummy.
***
The click of Vil’s heels are deafening as he walks into the boutique, Rook and Epel both flanking him. His eyebrows are drawn into a stern angle. He takes a deep breath and his fingers twitch: the sting of copper sinks deep into his senses. Blood.
Vil clenches his hands into fists and leans towards Rook. “Go find them.”
Rook nods, sinking into the shadows.
Vil gestures to Epel and the purple haired boy reaches behind him, pulling out a pistol and clicking off the safety. He stays close to Vil, stepping lightly as they go through the few aisles there was.
Vil’s nose crinkles at how… cold the boutique suddenly seemed. He hated it, this wasn’t your boutique- not the one that he came to adore as soon as he stepped in.
It was a day that started out awful: realizing he was out of his favorite shampoo and conditioner mid showering, Epel being a touch more unreasonable than normal (speeding, acting unruly every time he tried fixing his bow), and to top it off a rookie spilling his favorite smoothie on his favorite suit. He was seething by the time he was out for his evening walk when he stumbled upon the little shop. He had glanced at it a couple of times out of the limo, even on his morning jogs.
He didn’t know what compelled him to walk in, but when he opened the door and stepped in, he took a deep breath, the smell of vanilla and fresh fabrics flooding his senses. He closed his eyes at the warmth that enveloped him.
“Hello!” He turned to see you standing there, a warm smile on your face and you absolutely glowed in the afternoon light. “Is there any way I can help you?”
“Don,” Epel whispered. “The… the counter.”
Vil glanced at the corner of the polished counter: red glistening under the light from the street lamps outside. He grimaced, gaze trailing down the edge of the counter to the floor. Drips of red splattered across the tile in small specks and towards the back room. His eyes widened.
“Vil.” Rook stood in the doorway of the backroom, his eyes drooping into something mournful.
The man broke into a sprint, his long legs carrying him there in a few steps. Rook makes room for him, his hand coming to settle on Vil’s back.
The breath is knocked out of him when he lays his eyes on your broken body. Your arms were tied behind your back with ribbon. He didn’t miss the fact that they were purple- a light lavender with gold accents. The blood was smeared across your face, already caking with dry blood. Your hair disheveled, white dress shirt stained with red and blurry pink, and your neck a thick ring of ugly, dark bruises. Your mouth half agape as you're curled up on the floor in splatters of blood underneath you.
He takes trembling steps forwards. The click of his heels uneven and obnoxiously loud as he makes his way to you, his head pounding. There was no way… no way this was happening.
You had nothing to do with this. Nothing. Just an innocent bystander in the midst of things. One that he was waiting to spend more time with. One that was special.
He didn't even realize he was grinding his teeth until he saw your eyes flutter open. “Vil?” you mumbled through a bruised jaw. Your hands, heavy like lead, reached to touch his face. He caught your hand in his. “Vil! You’re… you’re ok…” You smile up to him the best you can, your eyes heavy and bleary with exhaustion.
“Who did this, my Sweet Potato? Tell me who.” Vil pressed you close to his chest, turning to gesture to Rook and Epel who nodded.
You hum, pressing your cheek into him and taking a deep breath. “You’re ok…”
Vil can feel the way the tears catch in his throat, an awful choking thing. He cleared his throat. “Who did this to you?”
“They kept… asking ‘bout you but I didn’t… say nothin’... Nothin’ at all.” You mumble against him, voice raspy like it had rocks stuck in your throat.
“Why? Why didn’t you? You didn’t have to do that.” He almost laughs at how he feels a happy blush warm your cheeks. He dips his head closer to your ear, his lips almost brushing against the shell of it as he speaks. “You’re not even mine, my Sweet Potato.”
A giggle leaves you, tired and quiet. “I… I can change that… very quickly, Mr. Schoenhiet.”
He laughs, pressing his soft lips against your blooded cheek as Rook and Epel rush back in with his medic, Dol and Sul, pushing behind him to see you, both clamoring with emotion.
Summery: The Gods are waging war and you wait for your God to come back patiently. But, when the war leaks into the mortal realm, will he be able to get to you in time?
TW: Blood; Violence; Threats; Religious Themes (very loose)
Word Count: 1,594
A note from Fel: This one, I've had done for over a damn week??? Like, I love Rook to death and my girlfriend really likes this one so like * high fives self * ALSO I LOW KEY WANT TO DO A SERIES WITH THIS??? IT'S JUST- I HAD SO MUCH FUN (if y'all want to send in any requests centered around this, you will own my whole H E A R T)
It had been a long time since he had waved to you, walking off into the forest, his bow slung over his shoulder with his quiver of arrows hanging from his hip. You had watched as the shadows devoured your god that night.
The seasons had changed and yet the angry clouds, rumbling with thunder lingered throughout each of them. Now, a thin frost had covered the fields, leaving you to shiver and pull your shawl closer to you. You stood at the start of the forest, the looming trees acting as a wall. You grip your basket tight in your arms, shifting the dried meat and the few fruits and cheeses you managed to save, the loaf of bread still warm. Your friends had tried to tell you not to go- told you that the gods would not be back for a long time. The war in their world was too important. You knew that. You knew that the first time a shower of red poured down on you and the fields you were tending to. You had watched as your neighbors fields faded, still hesitant to pray to lord Epel for good harvests. And, yet, you couldn’t just give up- not on your god, not on the one who so gently took your hand that night and saved you from the bandits who had burned your village to the ground; who burned your family to a crisp.
“You have no need to fear,” he had said to you, picking you up in his arms and cradling your head close to his heart. “I will protect you no matter what, for you looked up to me and asked for me to save you, Mon Clair de Lune.”
He had taken you to this village, where the gods held a special spot for the people- giving you the home closest to the forest. He had asked you if you knew how to draw a bow and you told him you did. You think that’s when the two of you truly connected.
The laughs and shrieks of joy as he would chase you around the fields and trees just to wrap his arms around your waist were memories you held dear to you everytime he went back into the forest to answer Lord Vil’s calls (no one could deny Venus his wishes).
“I will be back, Mon Clair de Lune. Je t'aime.” He whispered into your hair, running his hands along the expanse of your back.
It had made you nervous when he was hesitant to let go, like he was afraid he wasn’t going to come back. He pressed a kiss to your forehead and cheeks before turning and waving with a soft smile.
You sigh, another shiver shot through you as the wind picked up. Your eyes squeezing shut and you blow a breath of white air out from your lips. Maybe you’d see if Ace (you refused to call him Lord Ace, you were much too close for that by now) could dial down on the winds- though it might not even be him dictating these winds for once.
You sigh, turning to go back to your home when you hear a strange gurgling noise to your side. You furrow your brow- it almost sounds like a creek, you think as you turn to see where the noise was coming from. There, off in the distance, a black mass pulsated and writhed. You felt yourself go stiff as it jerked to and fro, red dots rolling around the expanse of its flesh until they finally pointed forward to look at you. The basket in your hands dropped as you turned to dash somewhere away from the village, as you hear flesh tearing and a bone rattling shriek leave from somewhere behind you.
You rush past the fruit fields and through the flower beds, praying that Jack could forgive you as you feel the delicate stems crunch beneath your foot. The sound of thundering steppes racing behind you causes a ball to form in your throat, pushing yourself to run faster and faster.
You had hit the creek, the bottoms of your wool pants and boots frigid in the rush of cold water as you slosh through it. You’re almost to the other side when you stop: yellow eyes stare at you through the leaves of the bushes. The shrieking comes to a stop behind you and you look over your shoulder to see the black mass staring past you as you turn back. The eyes had moved, now well above the branches of the tree, you can make out long arms, veins straining underneath skin, and white teeth glinting in the light of the early morning sun.
You nearly begin to rush up stream when a voice says, “I wouldn’t.”
You freeze, looking back at the pair of eyes to see a long snout peeking out from the bushes.
It’s mouth smiles, showing off sharpened fangs, as it steps further into the light. It towers over you, hunching over as it pushes branches out of the way. “You look delicious- all of the humans here do.” It hums to itself as it takes more heavy steps towards you. “Maybe it’s because you all have been blessed by the gods-” it throws its’ head back to release a wheezy laugh- “the ones that left you to fight a war they won’t win.”
“The gods will win.” You’re surprised with how much confidence you say it, but you try not to let it show as you watch it tilt it’s wolf-like head to the side.
“Not if you are all dead. Gods have nothing without their worshippers, you know?”
You shiver from the mix of the cold water and the realization, crinkling your nose at the smell of rotten meat and old blood that wafts from it’s hulking body. You look up at it, glaring. “Do-” you almost gag at the smell and it almost seems to laugh- “do not doubt the strength of the gods. They’ll come back to us and they will save us no matter what.”
“You put so much stock into them, human.” It crouched on its haunches, sliding a hand under your trembling chin. “So cute and delicate.” You can hear the other behind you shuffle, grunts and wheezes following its movements. The other in front of you laughs again as it watches your gaze begin to shift. “Do not take your eyes off of me.” Your eyes stare at it, swirling with a dread that it finds positively delectable. “I will take your head without you realizing it.”
Your vision began to grow glassy as its maw stretched wide; hot, humid breath, that smelled of rot, hitting your face as a row of giant teeth showed itself to you. You clasp your hands together, praying with all your might, with every ounce of your soul, that Rook would come and save you. That your huntsman would come and shoot down the beasts that wished to devour you.
Just like that night when he had first saved you.
"Si ma lune prie pour que je vienne, je le ferai.”
The creature screamed in pain, the sheer volume shaking your bones and piercing deep into your skull. It shoved you away, your body falling under the frigid stream of the water. You hear a muffled scream from above as you break the surface of the water. You gasp as you suck in air, dragging yourself to the side of the bank where Rook rushes to meet you.
You're leaning on your elbows as you catch your breath when Rook’s body barrels into yours, knocking you back with a loud ‘oof!’ coming from you. His face nestles into your neck and you swear you feel him tremble. “R- Rook?” You wrap your arms around him, running them along his back to see for any wounds. “Are-” you breathe out a cold breath- “are you ok?”
He’s muttering in that tongue he adores so much (French- you remember him calling it), squeezing you tighter.
“Rook?”
“Hold me just a little while longer.”
You freeze, your eyes blurring with tears at his tone: devoid of everything carefree and casual. He sounded like he was in pain. You wrap your arms tighter around him, burying your face into his neck.
“I am so sorry, Mon Clair de Lune. I should have come sooner.” He pulled away, his hands cupping your face as he pressed his forehead against yours, his green eyes glassy. “Were you afraid?”
You blink, trying to keep the tears from spilling over your bottom lashes. “I was.” You close your eyes. “But, I knew you would come for me. I knew the gods wouldn’t abandon us.”
He laughs, soft and tired. “You are too important for me to let you die so easily.”
“And I will not die so easily as long as you will it.” The quiet that settles between you two is gentle and you can’t bring yourself to want to leave his embrace despite the cold of your wet clothes seeping into your skin and making your bones ache. You open your eyes to look into his. “Is… Is this truly going to be a war?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“I’ll stay by your side. No matter what.”
“And I shall protect you no matter what, Mon Clair de Lune.”
He presses his lips against yours and you let yourself melt into it, holding onto the last semblance of peace that may allow you rest for a long time.
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(Howl’s Moving Castle AU) Howl! Dire Crowley x Reader
Summery: Crowley is a dumbass and can’t comfort to save his life. Trein is done with him.
TW: Blood; Injuries
Word Count: 844
A note from Fel: You can really fucking tell when I’m queuing these things up half asleep because I miss putting stuff in there *stares at Toddler!Sebek fic and God AU Rook* Like- look- I know I can edit it, but I have to live with the shame now ok??? It’s too late, too many of y’all have seen it. It’s immortalized now jsdlkjfd. Anyway! Enjoy!
Blood dripped onto the wooden floors, soft plop, plop, plops- following after tired footsteps. Crowley sighed, his wings aching and his clawed hands aching even more as he made his way to your shared bedroom. He almost missed your hunched over form, your arms acting as pillows for your head as you slept against the warm glow of Trein’s flames. He smiled, missing the unnecessary cockiness and overconfidence it usually held, running the tips of his talons through your hair. You sighed, snuggling deeper into your arms.
“You shouldn’t be pushing yourself so much, you know.”
Crowley glanced at the red flame. The smile on his face turning into an offended frown as he leans up, shifting fully into his human form despite how the feathers fell from his skin burned with something dangerous. “You don’t think I’m skilled enough to handle myself, Trein?”
“It’s not a matter of skill- no wizard, even you, can escape a curse like this by themself.”
“Oh, boo,” Crowley sticks out his tongue at him. “You’re no fun.”
Trein sighs, a smaller flame budding next to him and letting out a soft mew. “You should also be worrying about what you’d leave behind if we died, you fool.”
The man winces. He knew- he knew perfectly well what he’d leave behind. His gaze slipped down to your peaceful face, the emptiness in his chest growing colder at the thought of your crying face-
“Crowley?” Your groggily voice caught his attention and if he had tail feathers they’d be waggling in excitement.
“My darling! You’re awake! Let us go to the room and-”
You blink away the sleepiness, before you realize the red dripping from the gashes littering his body. “Crowley!”
He tilts his head. “Yes?”
“Don’t yes me! Oh- Trein! I told you to wake me up when he came back!” You rush through the castle.
Crowley watches you run around like a headless chicken, practically glowing as you urge him to take a seat, taking off his mask, and gently wiping at his face with a warm, wet rag. He lets out happy chirps at you and Trein lets out an exasperated sigh. “(Y/N), Darling, before you become too engrossed in treating that mess of a man would you give Lucius and I more firewood?”
“Of course,” you say, Crowley whines at the lack of contact, holding the hand of the arm that isn’t stretching itself to grab logs for Trein to use. After you were done, you went back to tending to your husband, the man cooing happily.
Crowley chattered as you cleaned his wounds and you bobbed your head at his words, adding little words to encourage him to keep his one sided conversation up. He’d lean over on occasion and rub his head against your cheek.
When you had gotten to the gash on his side, you winced. It’ll need stitches… You realized and you can’t keep the tears from dripping down your cheeks.
“-And then I so graciously flew down-”
“Crowley.” He hears Trein hiss at him in a low voice.
“Hm?” He finally opens his eyes to look at Trein but then he sees the wet trails on your cheeks. “Oh… oh, my darling- what wrong?” He swiped his thumbs under your eyes, minding his metal claws.
“I… Please…” you whispered, leaning against his palm. “Please, don’t hurt yourself anymore, Crowley.”
He hopped a bit in his seat. His mouth opened and closed, fishing for words that he couldn’t find. He looked to Trein and Lucius. The bigger flame seemed to roll its eyes before mouthing: ‘comfort them.’
He nodded, suddenly pulling you into a tight hug. His bottom lip trembles at the way you shudder in his hold, a wet spot forming in his vest where your tears soak into the satin. “My Darling, there is nothing to fear! For I am a gracious and strong wizard! One of the best! There is no way that I will be hurt to the point of death-”
A wail leaves you and he frantically looks at Trein: ‘I don’t know what I did wrong?’
The flame shakes it’s makeshift fist at him. ‘You’re a damn idiot!’
His eyebrows furrow and he bares his fangs at him. He jumps again when you pull away, your fists curling into his vest so tightly that they begin to shake. “Crowley.” Your voice is even and the man gulps, leaning against the back of the chair. “Crowley, you- you aren’t allowed to die, do you understand me?”
His features soften from nervous to something almost mournful as he takes you in his arms again and squeezes you against his chest.
He glanced at the two fires who stared back at him with an understanding he could only hold with them.
Maybe… Maybe he could keep that promise one day. When you saved them.
For now, though, he was content to just rock you back and forth in his hold as he begins to chatter aimlessly, preening when he finally coaxes a genuine laugh out of you.
