#Graphic violence

[archdevilsupreme]

starring in Ice Nine Kills' "A Work Of Art"

[hellfirecvnt]

It's Personal

Billy Hargrove x Fem!Reader

TW: Violence against Y/N (not via Billy), farfetched for the plot, Billy is mean, angst, possible cringe idk. We're all friends here. THE VIOLENCE IS DESCRIBED IN DETAIL FOR THE MOST PART. A little bit non-canon Billy, but if you're reading his dialogue as sassily and as dry as I'm writing it, it's not quite as jarring to his personality.

Notes: I literally just learned about the "Who did this to you?" Trope and now I'm giving it an angsty go. This is not smut, womp, womp. Also, I did the gifs like a picture book so you can kinda see the expression or energy I was going for. Summary: Billy's been an ongoing bully/ nuisance in your life since you met. He's acting a little different after finding out you've been hurt.

"Can you try not to take up half the lecture dick-riding the professor?" Billy catches you as you're making your way across campus. He's always been an issue for you, ever since he moved here your junior year in high school. Now you're both freshmen in college. He'd taken a year off to pursue other outlets, but sometimes you're convinced he did it just to be able to torment you in college, seeing as he was always a grade above.

"What are you talking about, Billy?" You ask with an exasperated sigh. Already too exhausted from studying late the night before to deal with his endless harassment.

"I'm saying every time we have this course, you ask a million fucking questions the whole time," his voice is low, but filled with a palpable hate. Why does he dislike you so much? You've never known. You've never asked. "Try to save your desperation for after class, cool? It's hard to watch," He jabs, speed-walking ahead of you.

Most days, you'd say something back. A quip just as hateful, if not worse. You were his rival in every sense of the word. The two of you even shared the same genre of fashion sense. You stole his spotlight, and he doesn't like it, so he notices when your venom is running low. You're silent the entire lecture, not because of what Billy said to you, but because you're tired.

Your study session only ran so late because you and your boyfriend spent most of the day arguing. The gaslighting is constant, and his moods have become more and more unstable and harder to navigate. You tell yourself over and over that you love him. You've loved him since you were young. He's your high school sweetheart. Andy was on the basketball team in high school and while that type usually didn't take to a hair-metal gal like you, he seemed so smitten when you met.

The room is dismissed and you try to file out long before Billy can make it to the door. He laughs at your desperate attempt to get away. Like a cockroach scurrying away from a suddenly illuminated bulb. You're not fast enough and as he passes you before you reach the exit to the building, he leans over and taunts you in your ear.

"It's about time you listened," he hisses and walks away laughing. You're indifferent. Nothing he says could hurt the way Andy's words do. You tune everything out to make room for your insecure thoughts to take over. You blame yourself for Andy's rapid change in personality. What could you have done to make him feel like this toward you? Your mind is far too occupied by these untrue concerns, that you barely feel the anxiety settle in until you get back to your dorm. It was a bit more pricey on your tuition, but your scholarship allowed you to have a dorm room for yourself. Instead of another bed, it has a small "living room" area.

With a deep, grounding sigh, you reach for the door handle and step inside. Things are fine. Andy greets you with a smile and kisses you sweetly as you set your things down by the door. You're pleasantly surprised, allowing all the toxic thoughts circling your mind to melt away under his gentle touch.

"How was class?" He asks.

"It was fine. Nothing spectacular," you giggle, smiling warmly, overtly relieved that he's not still upset with you. You can barely recall what he was angry about, to begin with. You snuggle into him as you both relax on the couch. He stares straight ahead as he opens his mouth to speak.

"One of my buddies said he saw you talking to that Steve guy," Andy's voice becomes colder, and you realize it was all a trap. You're wrapped in his arms, feeling his body go rigid as you hesitate to answer. "Y/N." He finally looks down at you, meeting your anxious gaze.

"Oh, uh," your throat goes dry. "I did talk to him. He was a little late and just needed the notes from the first section. I charged him five bucks." You begin to ramble, hoping to defuse the situation before he explodes. "He's still going steady with that Debra girl, too. She's in my journalism class. I bet those cookie-cutter losers end up married, honestly."

"You know I don't like you talking to other guys without me." Andy clenches his jaw.

"I know! I completely understand, too. You know I love how possessive you are, babe. It's hot," you're desperate and hopeful that stroking his ego will put this anger to bed. "There were so many people around, so I was thinking nothing could happen." You furrow your brow at your own words. "Your friend was even there to make sure!"

Andy's grip around you tightens, nearly cutting off your ability to fill your lungs just using one arm.

"I don't ask you for a lot, Y/N." His free hand reaches up to your face, gripping your jaw and forcing you to look into his eyes, though you weren't looking away to begin with. "Don't make me look like a fool." When he loosens his grip, your lungs inflate with a loud gasp and his shift in position slides you off the couch, into the floor with a small thud. Now you're angry. The two of you have screamed at each other plenty of times, but how dare he act so bold?

"Andy," you stand, hovering over him where he remains on the couch. His arched brows frame his bright eyes with anger. "Get out." He smirks, and it fills you with unease. Standing from the couch, he takes one step forward, nearly chest to chest with you, if it weren't for the dramatic height difference. He towers over you, stealing the feeling of power you thought you were cultivating.

"What'd you just say to me?" He asks with a sociopathic smile.

"I said," You swallow hard. "Get. The fuck. Out." You barely get a chance to speak the last word of your sentence before a fast, hard open hand meets your cheek, knocking you to the ground, and almost sending you across the room, it felt like.

"Do not ever talk to me like that just because you got caught," Andy's words are full of anger. You stare at him with wide eyes, arching your brow in an expression that asks him who the fuck he thinks he is. He storms out of the dorm, but you know he'll be back. And after these events, you're scared to try and stop him. His college teammates are at every corner, it seems. It's as if ever since Jason went out of state for college, they all bend to Andy's will. Losers. Andy doesn't come home until after you've fallen asleep. You stayed up as late as your body could take, but he wasn't back in bed until 5 AM. You have no idea where he's been.

The next day, it's your misfortune that you and Billy share yet another class. This one was early in the morning rather than yesterday's afternoon lecture. You're running on very little sleep, and the trauma of Andy snapping and putting his hands on you. It's just something you could never even fathom. The way he would kiss the ground you walked on when you first met, how could he? You're more than distracted, staring directly at the floor as you walk until you run flat into someone else in the hall.

"I stood here, completely still, to see if you'd notice. I guess other people don't exist to you, huh, princess?" He mocks you. It's not long before he notices the dark bags under your lifeless eyes and the speckles of red that have risen in the hazy shape on the side of your face. Assuming it's an allergic reaction like you had back in high school, he didn't hold back. "Jesus Christ, Y/N. You look like shit."

"Still look better than you could pull, pussy," you sneer, shoving past him. "Don't fucking make me late." He steps in front of you again, knowing neither of you is late because he's on the same schedule.

"What happened to your face? It looks like your boyfriend had to tell you twice," he bursts out laughing at his distasteful joke. You can feel your blood begin to boil. You no longer wish to exchange hateful comments. Now you want to hurt him. You want to hurt Billy the way Andy hurts you. You can't swing on him, so you take your next best shot.

"Yeah? How many times did your mom have to tell you before she just gave up and left?" You boldly stare Billy in the eyes, hoping so badly that none of Andy's henchmen see the two of you going at it. Billy's jaw is rigid, and you can see it tighten as he grinds his teeth, subduing his emotions. You've never come at him like that, it wasn't expected. His taunting smirk is long gone.

"Are you trying to get your fucking ass kicked, Y/L/N?" Billy's disgusted with himself the minute he says it. Of course, he doesn't mean that. He'll drive you into an early grave, but it's never been in his moral compass to hurt a woman the way his father hurt his mom. He wants to rescind the rhetorical threat, but his ego just clamps his lips shut. Your eye twitches as you wonder what else you've got to lose. Or would Andy hit you again for letting another man kick your ass? Your thoughts are exaggerated and full to the brim with frustration. You finally explode.

"Fucking do it then, Billy! Swing! Hit me, motherfucker!" You drop your belongings and stomp toward him and he's unsure how to react now that you've called him on his bluff/ intrusive thought.

"Calm the fuck down. You look ridiculous," Billy takes a cautious step back.

"No, let's go outside. Let's see how hard you can hit someone half your fucking height, pussy!" You're nearly causing a scene, but the building is empty for the hour. Tears well in your eyes and you refuse to let up, demanding he act on his "big, scary" threat. He won't. He stares at your watery, red eyes. Your face is flushed and only your cheeks, nose, and around your eyes hold any pigment. He essentially waits until you tire yourself out.

"You've gotta do something about that shit, Y/N. You're fucking losing it," he shakes his head.

"I'm not losing any-fucking-thing, Hargrove. Don't ever mistake me for a bitch you can scare off with an empty fucking threat," you spit, grabbing your things and taking off, leaving Billy standing confused in the empty hallway.

"What the fuck was that?" He questions aloud. He has no idea you've been drained with no way to recharge. You've been hurt with no way to heal. To him, you're losing your goddamn mind. After that, he's not even angry at your comment anymore. He's just, concerned? Maybe just curious, really. After all, he's supposed to be your burden. Anything else takes the attention off of him.

The class is long and just like yesterday, you're quiet when you usually never stop engaging. Even the professor notices, and she asks you to linger behind after the lecture is over.

"Hey, Y/N. What's up? You were so quiet today," the professor's soft voice is sweet to your ears.

"I've just been, um, tired." You shake your head, barely convincing yourself.

"Is that a bruise on your cheek, honey?" The kind, older woman asks with two hands resting on her coffee mug. Just outside the open door, Billy waits for you to pass by before he realizes you're staying behind. He scoots as close to the door as he can, flat along the wall, listening.

"A bruise," he whispers to himself, recalling what he thought was a rash. His stomach almost attempts to simulate the feeling of guilt as he remembers the joke he made at you. The one that set you off.

"Oh, no. It's a reaction. New laundry detergent fucked me up," you stop yourself. "Messed me up, sorry."

"Y/N, you're an adult. I can't make you do anything you don't want to do, but it's very clearly not hives," the professor sighs, her eyes full of concern as she stares at the ever-developing bruise as it slowly takes the shape of a hand. "Is it another student at the University?"

"Ma'am, with all due respect, I'm dealing with a lot right now. I will see you on Wednesday. Goodbye." You snatch your things up and zip toward the door, holding your breath. The wind from your speed walking blows your hair back, giving Billy a perfect view of the hand-shaped bruise yellowing on the side of your face. You're too determined to get out of there to react to his eavesdropping, so the two of you just share a look, and you keep going.

Billy furrows his brow. He's unsure you even have a boyfriend, so who exactly is leaving bruises like that right, front and center on your face? After his last course of the day, Billy congregates with his friends at a nearby frat house belonging to a different college.

"Hey, Tommy," Billy calls his friend's attention. Tommy pulls himself away from the group of guys he was laughing with and sits across from Billy. "You know that Y/N girl? Lots of denim, nice ass?" It's not until the last two descriptors that Tommy recalls who you are. Figures.

"Yeah, what about her?"

"What's her deal? She dating anybody?" Billy asks, innocently enough.

"I don't know, man. Why do you always ask me about shit like that?" Tommy laughs.

"Because you gossip like a woman," Billy smirks, standing from his slouched position on the couch and grabbing a beer from the large, ice-filled cooler in the kitchen. "She's some annoying broad in a couple of classes with me. I thought I'd ask around and see if there's a reason she never shuts her goddamn mouth." Both of them laugh at his hateful remark, but it's true to him. You get on his nerves, but it's less what you say, and more so the fact that you do "him" better than him. The men drink irresponsibly and cause a ruckus until late, late at night where they then wander back to their campus/ dorms on foot.

You wake up in the morning finally feeling well-rested for the first time in a while, despite the sudden changes in your relationship. You look over to see Andy's side of the bed is empty. You assume he slept over at the frat house after getting too fucked up. You know he likes to party.

Sitting comfortably on your couch, watching an episode of your favorite show, though it's a rerun, you involuntarily flinch when you hear the door open. Andy slightly stumbles through, laughing with messy hair. His clothes seem disheveled, but you chalk it up to drunken hijinks.

"Hey, babe! Did you have fun?" You ask, smiling, beaming, really. Hoping the sound of his laughter is a sign he's in a good mood this morning.

"Huh?" He looks over at you as if he didn't notice your existence until you spoke.

"I was just asking if you had a good time. Sorry I couldn't go with you, I was just too tired," you laugh.

"Oh, no. It's cool. I like it when it's just me and the guys, actually." His confession makes you a little sad, but you try to understand.

"Got any plans for today?" You grin, letting your guard down.

"For the love of God, dude. Can I get in the door first?" He snaps.

"Okay... Sorry," you quieted yourself down at first, but then quickly realized that's not who your daddy raised. You're getting ready to confront him again despite the smack until you notice something that makes your stomach drop, a small trail of three faint hickeys along your long-term boyfriend's neck. "Babe. Where did those come from?"

"What are you talking about?" He groans, throwing himself on the couch next to you, gripping your thigh possessively.

"I'm talking about the hickeys on your neck, Andy. Where did they come from?" Your voice is low and shaky. "Just you and the guys, huh?"

"Don't start with this shit again, Y/N. I'm too hungover." He dismisses you entirely, and all the rage you'd been holding back to be the "cool girlfriend" comes pouring out.

"You knocked me to the floor for looking at Steve Harrington! You put your hands on me for some made-up story you formulated in your own head and now you're coming home with hickyes?!" The longer you scold him, the darker his expression becomes.

"I'm giving you one fucking chance to get on your fucking knees right now and apologize," Andy's unsettlingly calm. You're frozen. Too scared to be openly defiant, but too angry to fold at his command. "One... Two..." He stands, softly placing a hand on your cheek and sliding it up into your hair, gracefully scraping the tips of his fingers behind your ear. It's so soft and soothing, that the sensation causes goosebumps to rise on your skin. Your eyes flutter shut and just as they're about to open again, he closes his fist around a large portion of your hair and forces you to the ground.

"Andy!" You scream, both terrified and in pain.

"I'm so sick of this, Y/N. I'm sick of you," he growls through gritted teeth, holding you painfully at his side like a heeling dog.

"God damn it, stop! It's fucking over! Fuck whoever you want!" You cry, shifting your position against him in hopes of loosening the pull against your scalp.

"And let you whore yourself out to every other guy on campus? Fuck off. You're mine." He finally releases your hair, tossing you forward in front of him. He kneels down to get closer to your face, speaking lowly. "I heard Hargrove's been asking about you. Think you're safe with your playboy side-piece?"

"He's not my side-piece! Please, Andy. Why are you being like this?" You hold a hand up to defend yourself.

"You think I don't see you two whispering to each other? You think you're smart enough to hide anything from me?" Andy's voice is slowly rising in volume. You worry the other students will hear the commotion. You don't want to lose your solo dorm rights seeing as men aren't supposed to "live" with women in the dorms.

"He's a dick, dude! I fucking hate the guy, please stop!" Your makeup is trailing down your face as you continue to cry for mercy. He shakes his head at the scene.

"I tried warning you. I tried getting my point across to you, but you won't hear me," he sighs as he snatches your hair back into his fist in one, quick, snake-like action. You wail at the aching tug, squeezing your eyes shut from the pain. Just as you go to open them, you see his hand flying toward you. It starts with open-handed smacks, knocking the wind out of you from how bad they hurt, but he progresses until he's landing blow after blow, all over you. Anywhere he can reach as you try to block him.

Eventually, you're badly roughed up, and Andy stands to look at what he's done. The remaining alcohol seems to clear from his system as the reality of his actions sets in.

"Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck," he mumbles, tearing his shirt off as it's stained with your blood. He shoves it deep into the trashcan and disappears to wash the evidence of the horrors against you off of his hands. He returns to where you lie in the living room. He's wearing a fresh shirt and his breath heaves as he stares at your seemingly unconscious body. You're awake though, barely. Holding your breath as long as possible, only allowing the shallowest of breaths, basking in the stillness after the abhorrent beating.

Andy bolts out the door and after a few moments of silence, loud sobs of relief and pain emit from your sore chest. You roll over into a ball, holding yourself close as you process everything. You mourn who you were before the person you trusted most betrayed you. You mourn your relationship, regardless of the last few days. You mourn your own face as you imagine the recovery process will be long and draining. You lie there for a while until night falls.

Once it's dark out, you sneak to the old gym building to use the showers there, hoping to avoid running into anyone and having to answer any questions about your battered appearance. No one uses the old gym because it's full of spiders and has a terrible draft, but it's still open to the students 24/7. It's your run-of-the-mill college basketball court with a weight room and showers.

You get inside the building and listen to the silence of the empty halls. Peace. You're numb now. You've cried all you can, and the pain has become a dull hum. Now you just want to shower and try to find yourself beneath all the blood. You scale the walls of the dark hallway, searching for a light switch. You nearly jump out of your skin when you feel what you can only imagine is human flesh.

"Oh fuck!" You and the mystery person exclaim in unison, startled by each other's presence. Still on edge, you duck down, covering your face. The light flips on and you recognize the sweaty figure who stands before you. Billy. He comes to this gym for privacy in the weight room and always has. Not as confident as his demeanor would lead you to believe.

"Had to be you, didn't it?" He rolls his eyes. "Did you come here to- Oh fuck, Y/N." His uncreative insult is cut short when you lower your arms, revealing the massacre of swollen features and bloody skin that used to be your face. His mouth hangs open for a moment. "What happened to you?"

"Oh, shut the fuck up. Like you fucking care, Hargrove. Get out of my way," you're angry, and it feels like you'll be angry forever.

"Hey," he stops you from walking past him by stepping in your path. "I said what happened?" His voice sounds different. Like you've never heard before. Uncharacteristically concerned, but don't let that fool you. It's still not a lot of concern and it's quite monotoned. His eyes search yours for any kind of answer and it's the least arched his brow has ever been. He's being so... Quiet. You're silent too, stunned by his behavior.

"Thought you were gonna kick my ass too, Billy. You scared now?" Your remark is meant to be a bold taunt, but your voice cracks as you fight for your life to hold back tears.

"Y/N, I'm serious. Who did this to you?" He asks sternly, losing patience by the minute. You still can't seem to trust him enough to open up, so you look down at the ground in silence. "Fuck it. Come on." Billy's long legs float him swiftly down the hall and you hesitate to follow, ultimately deciding all these years arguing with Billy have at least felt better than the last three days with Andy. He leads you to the empty men's locker room where he retrieves an old first-aid kit and a bottle of water from the coach's office, then he makes his way to a locker and retrieves a clean shirt. It's soft and worn in and has the name of your university written across the front.

"Thanks," you mumble, taking the box and other supplies from him. You douse the shirt in water and begin to try to wipe your face clean. There's no mirror, so you can't quite tell what you're doing, causing you to scrape over your open wounds and flinch.

"Just fucking," Billy snatches the damp shirt from you. "Let me do it." He's careful and thorough as he gently works the soft, wet fabric across the new and old blood covering your identity. You can't help but stare at his eyes as they focus so intently on each section of your face that he wipes clean. Just as he's finishing up, his eyes meet yours for a moment. It's a short, little second, but it felt so drawn out. Billy breaks the eye contact when he sets the shirt to the side.

"That should be okay, for now." He reaches for the kit in your hands.

"I can do it, Billy," you remind him, yanking the box away, rejecting any more gentle touch. It doesn't feel like you deserve it right now.

"Let me help," he demands softly, popping the little tin box open and rummaging around for bandaids and antibiotic ointment. He patches you up and while he's working, you're watching his intense face. His brows are arched and his lips every so slightly pursed. You can't clock what emotion he's feeling. Obviously, he's expressing some sort of sympathy, but he hates you. He always has. So maybe he's just having a human moment.

"What's the matter with you, man? Are you fucking with me?" Your guard begins to rise again. You don't trust your own intuition anymore. You tighten your grip around a plastic pair of scissors from the first-aid kit. Billy notices and releases a laughing sigh.

"No, I'm not fucking with you." He places one final bandage. "You're insufferable as fuck, but I don't think you had this coming." He looks you up and down. That's as close as Billy can get to "comforting" anyone. "Don't stab me with those." He points to your hand and you blush, a little embarrassed by your overly-cautious behavior.

"Why do you hate me, Billy?" You ask, point blank as you release the scissors, catching him off guard.

"Because you're the worst. You're loud, you're egotistical, you're an ugly crier," he chuckles, all too quickly, being put on the spot.

"You're just describing yourself," you knit your brows, quickly wiping the tears from your eyes after his ugly cry comment. "I'm serious. You'd think we'd have so much in common. You hated me the second we met. Why?"

"I don't hate you, Y/N. I'm putting bandaids on your split fucking eyebrow. You're just fun to get a rise out of." Billy closes the kit and tosses it aside with the bloody shirt. It's not news to him that he torments you because of a mix of annoyance and attraction, but you have no idea. What started as his catty attempts to pick you up turned into an all-out rivalry when you were the first girl to tell him to shut the fuck up instead of batting your eyelashes at him. To you, he's just a mean dude. But right now, it's like he's someone else entirely. When he's acting like this, you're finally able to see what makes him so irresistible to every girl on campus. Your rivalry kept you blind to it, but now, you can see his brilliant teeth in his wide, warm smile. You can see his sunflower eyes, framed by long, thick, dark lashes. His jawline, his shoulders, everything about him seems so beautiful to you now.

"Thank you, Billy," you smile weakly. He scans your swollen features and something in him awakens. A possessiveness. Rage ensues. Every opinion of you he's ever had melts away except for his attraction to you. Your voice, your mannerisms, everything he's ever absolutely torn you to shreds for, suddenly he admits to himself that it never bothered him. In his eyes, you're his, even if you're just a target for his teasing, a bit of banter around the school, you're still his.

"You never said who did it," Billy chews his inner lip, trying to keep calm until he gets the information he needs from you.

"It doesn't matter-"

"It matters. Who was it?" His voice is stern and sharp. He's still knelt close to you even though he's done tending to your wounds.

"It just... Happened so fast..." You flinch as you recall opening your eyes to his incoming hand.

"Start from the beginning," the sternness in his voice softens. You give him the full run down. Billy's face remains stone, motionless, but his eyes twitch and flutter with each gruesome new detail dragging him further down to the point of no return.

"We've been together so long. I never thought..." You hold your hands up in confusion, dropping them hopelessly in your lap.

"A name. Now." Billy stares deep into your eyes as he makes his demands. You can almost feel a heat coming off his gaze as it bores into you. It's clear he will not relent until he gets the answer he's asking for.

"His name is Andy." That's all Billy needs before he's standing up and exiting the locker room without another word. "Billy?" You call after him, still sitting on the bench. You finally stand to follow when you don't hear a response from him. "Why do you care?" This stops him in his tracks. He turns around for a second as if he's going to explain, but he never does. He tilts his head with a small shrug and disappears. "Wait!" You call, but the exit door is already closing behind him and he stalks off into the dimly lit campus. He sparks up a cigarette on the way, exhaling a large cloud behind him. Andy better have life insurance.

Billy ponders your question as he makes his way across the courtyard. Regardless of any flirtatious feelings he has for you, this comes down to wishing he could've defended his mother in this same way. He was too small then, he's not now, and Andy's about to face the full extent of that rage extending all the way back to his childhood. For now, it's personal.

You take the time alone to have a quick shower to wash away the blood in your hair and hopefully make yourself feel a little better. You're careful not to get your face wet and ruin Billy's careful doctoring. Once your shower is finished, you grab your bag and head back to your dorm. It's still dark, so you keep close to the dim, yellow street lamps that lead to the student housing. There's a dull hum that vibrates from each light post, it's all you can hear, all you can focus on to make yourself stop thinking about Billy.

Back at your place, you lock the door as many times as possible before shakily taking a seat on the small couch. You flip the TV on, just to have something to fill the silence. Every time someone passes by your door, your heart rate leaps and you lose control of your breathing. After the third or fourth time it happens, you seem to desensitize. Billy's new demeanor he has toward you is all you can think about. The softness of his words, his touch. You didn't think he was capable of it. You curl up, pulling your legs to your chest as you snuggle into the plush cushions, nearly dozing off, trying to remember the way his shirt smelled when he was using it to clean you up.

Billy's hell-bent on getting his hands on Andy, tonight. Crossing the lot, he reaches his car and slides inside. His face is blank as he stares ahead, with only one objective in mind. He follows the sound of blaring house music to a nearby frat house and angrily tears the door open. Wasting no time, he walks right up to the first person he sees.

"Where's Andy?" He asks, yelling over the music. The first few people have no idea who he's looking for until he comes to Tommy. "Where's Andy?"

"Andy from Econ? He's upstairs. Dude's super stressed about something and took a bottle up there. Finals, man." Tommy laughs, but Billy's already walking away before he's even finished his sentence. The entire party becomes muffled beats in his ears as he climbs the stairs in pursuit of the man who made you look like a bad Halloween decoration.

First door, nothing. Second door, nothing. Third door, Billy slings it open and a stressed out, curly-haired brunette man jumps out of his skin.

"Fuck, dude! You fucking scared me!" He exclaims.

"You Andy?" Billy asks, already breathless with anticipation.

"I- yeah? Why?" Billy answers his question by crossing the room in the blink of an eye and scooping him up by his shirt. He slams Andy against the wall, eyes wide with unbound rage. "What the fuck are you doing, man?!" The commotion can't be heard over the party below. It's just the two of them.

"You know how much of a pussy you gotta be to beat up on someone half your height?" Billy strains through gritted teeth. This is a thin reference to what you said to him when he let his emotions cloud his judgment and threatened to kick your ass.

"Wait... Y/N? She's alive? Jesus Christ..." Andy's eyes nearly roll back with relief and Billy looks at him disgusted.

"What? You thought you beat her to death? Then, you just left her there and went to a party?" Billy raises his eyebrows, almost seeming to smile. "That's fucked up, man." He slams Andy against the wall again, harder, to accentuate his point.

"Come on, dude. Whatever she told you-"

"I'm not here to talk about her." Billy silences your cruel, long-time partner. "Right now, we're not gonna talk at all."

"Dude-" Billy tosses the guy to the floor, cutting off his futile begs.

"I think right now, I'm gonna beat the living shit out of you," Billy kneels at Andy's side. "And then I'm gonna go fuck your girlfriend."

Billy lands punch after punch, unintentionally mirroring the way Andy laid into you. The only difference is that Billy's got a lot more size, muscle, and strength training than Andy. He lays into him, pummeling in any way he can figure out to mimic all the bruises and blood he could see on you. Billy grips Andy's shirt by the shoulders and forcefully pulls him to his feet just to uppercut him in the stomach, over and over. Blood and saliva fly from Andy's mouth as Billy hooks his fist up against his stomach.

When he's finally done, Andy's no more than a gargling mess on the floor. Properly bloodied just like he left you. Once again, Billy kneels down to Andy, establishing dominance and reminding him who he's fucking with now.

"If you come near her again," Billy inhales and exhales a shuddering breath as adrenaline continues to surge through him. "I will hurt you. I will hurt your family. There is no hiding, I will fucking kill you." His threat is no more than a low whisper before he stands and leaves Andy to wallow in his filth.

Billy's drive back is short and sweet, but he doesn't trust Andy or his entourage of prissy jock boys, so he rolls his eyes and pulls into the lot in front of the women's dorms, and makes his way to yours. He's always known which one you stay in, though finding out was an accident while he was being snuck in by one of his one-night-stands. It was common practice, hence why Andy pretty much lived with you since he had a shared dorm on the men's side.

He raises his hand to bang on the door, but hesitates, knocking softly and even calling your name through the door so you'd know it was him.

"Y/N, it's Billy." You smile with relief, still steadying your anxiety from his initial knock.

"Billy? How did you know which dorm was mine?" You question as you pull the door open.

"I knocked on every single one. And asked for you by name. At 11 PM." He looks at you, straight-faced, annoyed that you think so little of him.

"Are you fucking serious? They'll crucify me," you sigh, unsure if you can even feel any more stress at this point.

"I'm fucking with you. I know where your dorm is because I pay attention."

"And here I thought I was so annoying," you chuckle. There's a short silence between you, something unheard of for you two. "Do you, um, wanna come in?" You step to the side, inviting him in. Nervous, but not sure why. He's never had that effect on you before.

"No, you're coming with me."

"I am?" You raise an eyebrow.

"Yeah. I just stirred up a lot of shit, probably. I don't like the idea of you sleeping here alone." His words are compassionate, but the delivery is so blank, that you'd think he didn't actually care at all.

"Oh, alright. Let me grab some stuff." You gather your things and follow Billy to his light blue Camaro. He opens the door for you, but even he's wearing an expression that says this is a foreign act of kindness for him. He closes the door and takes his spot in the driver's seat. Billy glances over at you, but you're peering out the car window, searching the shadows for movement. The copper-colored light shining from the street lamp illuminates the high points of your face, exposing your expression as he watches the anxiety dissolve into comfort. Something about being the cause of it strokes his already inflated ego.

"You know what?" You break the silence, turning to meet Billy's gaze.

"What?"

"Contrary to the way my face and body look right now, he really can't hit that hard." You raise your eyebrows and nod, reassuring him that you mean that with your whole chest.

"I wouldn't know. I didn't give him a chance to swing." His grip around the steering wheel tightens, but he grins proudly.

"Don't worry, I took enough for the both of us," you joke, earning a shocked laugh from the curly-haired man you positively loathed just a day or so ago.

"I dunno. I think you could've taken him if the circumstances were different," he smirks at you, chin up.

"Oh, absolutely. If the emotional ties weren't there, we'd at least have gone a round or two," you mimic boxing the dashboard. It's obvious to both of you that this is not the case, but making a joke of a bad situation is a lot easier than crying. Billy's relieved, as he would have zero idea how to even approach you if you were crying. He's the "tell you you're not a pretty crier and then wonder why you cry harder" type of guy.

"Matter of fact, put me back in coach," you chuckle, accidentally reopening the split on your lip. "Oh, fuck," you mumble, pressing a finger to the wound, worsening the mess.

"Shit," Billy grabs a napkin from his glove box. "Don't touch it," he snaps. You quickly pull your hand away from your face and for just a moment, your breath hitches in your chest. You don't mean to react this way, you're not scared of him, you hope he knows that. He gives a small smile and a nod, almost like a silent apology for scaring you. He holds the napkin to your lip for you as he pulls into the Men's dorm parking lot. His family, much like yours, paid the extra fees to have a large dorm room all to himself. It was sort of a necessity for Billy considering his short temper and inability to compromise.

"How's your lip?" He asks as you set your overnight bag on his small futon in the tiny living area the solo dorms come with.

"It's fine. I think the bleeding stopped and everything," you smile, keeping it small so as not to pop open another split.

"You can take my bed. I got the futon," once again, his words are so kind and generous, but his tone is flat and bare.

"Don't be stupid. I'm your guest. You've..." You sneer at yourself in disgust as you prepare your next sentence. "You've done a lot for me already."

"God," he stares at you with wide eyes.

"What?"

"It looked like you were gonna be sick from saying that out loud."

"Came pretty close, bud." You squint your eyes. It's clear to both of you that this is weird. It's awkward and even a little uncomfortable. He's done so much for you, yes, and you do feel it outweighs all the innocent hell you gave each other, but where do you go from here?

"So, now what? I sleep here. We go to tomorrow's lectures. Then, I just go back to normal?" You don't want to insinuate that you expect him to play bodyguard forever, but it would be kind of nice. You lie the futon into its flat, bed position as you ask.

"We'll cross that bridge when we get there. 'Night." Billy climbs into his bed.

"Goodnight, Billy," you say, lowering the tough-gal front you attempt to keep up, usually when you aren't dealing with shit like this. Your voice sounds different when you let your walls down. It's sweeter. And the sound of it makes Billy's chest light.

In the safety of Billy's dorm, sleep finds you swiftly. You're out like a light, but Billy can't say the same. He lies with his eyes plastered to the ceiling. His mind is incoherent, bouncing all over from the possibility of the entire college sports program jumping him to the thought of you and him going back to "normal." It all started when he saw you, thought you were hot, but learned pretty quickly how self-assured you are. You would never be the easy catch he was used to and it pissed him off, igniting a multi-year feud between you. What if that feud were to end?

Billy lies on his back, his two muscular arms propped beneath the back of his head. He glances diagonally in the direction where you sleep. You're peacefully out, features slowly healing from the damage. He could stare at you all night, and that pisses him off too. He rolls his eyes and expels an exasperated sigh before rolling over, hoping that keeping his back faced in your direction will help shield him from the ambiguous thoughts invading his mind.

The next day, you're awake long before him, and to avoid overstepping, you rush through your morning hygiene routine and begin to reset the futon. You're as quiet as possible, but the second your fingertips graze the doorknob, Billy stirs.

"No," he says, wiping a hand over his face to rub the sleep away. "Just give me a minute. We'll go together." He sounds annoyed. You shake your head, dropping yourself down onto the futon while you wait for him to wake up.

"It's really no rush. I gotta get back across campus to get ready anyways." You call to him as he brushes his teeth in the small bathroom.

"I know you do. I'll drive you, just give me a minute," he waves away your excuses to leave without him, his voice becoming a little harsh as he repeats his request for more time. You know walking across campus isn't a treacherous walk. It's long, sure, but not unmanageable. What's really at stake is you running into anyone from the basketball team. And while that's your main concern, Billy has his own selfish reasons for wanting to keep you around. She's nice to look at, he tells himself, but it's more than that.

He walks from one end of the dorm to the other, wearing nothing but a dark grey pair of boxers. He's so lean and huge with well-toned muscles. He must spend a lot of time in the old weight room. You begin to wonder if Andy's in the hospital or not. Your eyes travel from his broad shoulders down to the V shape at his waist. You're unsure if it's your newfound ability to see him as a person, or maybe a trauma bond, but this man has you feeling out of character.

"Alright, car." He points out the door, using his primitive two-word command to instruct you to get into his car. He's still waking up.

"Billy, you know I could've just come back by myself, right? You didn't have to get up so early." You're the first to break the sleepy morning silence in the car. He looks at you like you've suggested possibly the most ridiculous thing he's ever heard.

"I know that. That's stupid. You're too trusting." Billy stares straight ahead through his black sunglasses.

"I guess," you shrug, not taking anything he says too seriously. How could you after all these years? He pulls into the Women's dorm lot and the two of you approach your personally decorated dorm room door. To your horror, the doorknob opens with ease. You forgot to lock it. A wary breath falls down your chest as you squeeze your eyes shut, grounding yourself before opening the door. Billy's confused until he finally sees inside. It's just as you suspected. The entire room, top to bottom, is trashed- thoroughly.

"What the fuck?" Billy inserts himself in front of you, taking a few steps inside to further assess the damage. His eyes narrow in anger as he catalogs every broken picture frame and demolished knick-knack. You seemed to have had a lot of curiosities and oddities, all of which were destroyed on your equally ruined floor.

"Oh, Jesus fucking Christ, I'm gonna lose it," you whisper, exasperated. You place your fingers on your temples and apply gentle pressure in hopes that it'll do any fucking thing for the way you're about to break the fuck down right now. "They want me to fuckin' lose it." Your voice is nearly inaudible.

"Hey, okay. Don't... Lose it. Let's go find 'em and beat the fuck out of 'em." Billy grins, still bloodthirsty. It's as if defending you almost feels like having you.

"I'm gonna get dressed. I'm gonna fix my fucking hair and makeup. And we're gonna go to our goddamn morning classes. This afternoon, we will figure out which one of them is getting their mom's severed middle finger in the mail."

"Sure thing, Killer Klown. That's not at all an overreaction." Billy shakes his head, laughing at your misfortune, though he does feel for you. You disappear into your restroom. It's miraculously, for the most part, untouched. You do a quick version of your usual big, glamour hair and slap on your makeup. It feels good to look like you again, even with the scabs and colorful bruises threatening to peek through the foundation. When you return to the common area, looking and feeling more like yourself, you radiate a type of glow. Billy catches himself in the very initial stage of staring but quickly nips that in the bud. You hardly notice.

"I guess I'm ready. You walking me to class, big guy?" You ask, teasingly.

"I am."

"Listen, I really appreciate everything you've done for me, but this isn't nes-"

"Y/N, have you looked at your dorm? Do you see how every single thing you own is destroyed? Stop being an idiot." His harsh words carry an air of motivation with them as he scolds you.

"Fine. But you're gonna have to pick up the pace or something," you snap your fingers repeatedly, in a circle to show him it's time to leave, now. He sighs, standing and leading the way out the door.

He walks you to your first lecture and waits outside for the entire hour. You don't know, but he actually doesn't have any classes today. He just knew you'd make a big deal out of it if you knew he was going any more out of his way than he already is. All 60 minutes drag by painfully slow, but all the while, Billy notices a few familiar faces casting passing glances into the building, only to suddenly change direction when their eyes meet his. He huffs out a satisfied sigh.

"Don't even think about it," he whispers, staring out the small door window. He glances at the clock, and just a moment before the lecture hall dismisses, he steps outside and waits for the crowd. After a handful of peers pass by, he then walks inside, keeping up his ruse.

"Oh, just in time, I guess," you say, meeting him in the middle of the breezeway as if he'd come from the other end of the college.

"As always," Billy sighs, unbothered, indifferent. You don't mind. It's a peaceful shift from his usual behavior before everything went down. The two of you step out the door and immediately, your eyes meet Andy's. He is standing around his car with his goons. They're all staring, not at Billy, at you. An intimidation tactic that might've worked before, had you not been walking next to a brick wall of a man. As the two of you strut past the bitter sportsmen, you hear Andy decide to pipe up.

"Told you she was a slut. It's already happening," he laughs and his teammates join in. You are unfazed by this sort of insult. Before the trauma at the hands of Andy that you'll now have to work through, you've always been a confident, self-assured person. At least that's all you'd allow anyone to believe. You shake your head at the insult, but when you look beside you, Billy's nowhere to be seen.

"That's pretty bold Andy. How're you healing? Doctor already tell you it's safe to get your shit rocked again?" Billy smiles sadistically as he stalks up to Andy. His crew of bench warmers seems to tighten up, taking a few steps closer, surrounding Andy. Billy can't hold back his laughter.

"Are you guys gonna jump me?" He asks, taunting, grinning as he does. "You think it's gonna be easy because there are so many of you?" Billy's only getting closer by the second, and the confidence of most of the players begins to waver. "Do you think I'll stop if I get my hands on you a second time?" Billy's icy blue eyes are dark with rage, almost black in the right lighting. They bore into Andy's and the two men fall silent.

Eventually, Andy's the one to back down. As expected, of course. And from the look on his face, you'd think he'd just been mugged and told his mom died. Billy smiles, tongue between his teeth as he watches the team climb into their cars. They have a visitors game, so you won't have to deal with them for the next 48 hours at least. As Billy returns to where you wait for him on the sidewalk, he wraps a protective arm around your shoulder. You're visibly jarred by this action, but Billy just stares straight ahead, leading you back to your dorm. He's wearing a self-satisfied grin as each and every busybody on campus whispers when they see the two of you.

Billy's a known bachelor and you're a known bitch. Even his more reoccurring hookups never got the public treatment. And you, fuck you're mean sometimes. Andy liked that about you. You'd be mean to anyone but him, but you guess it just stopped being enough. Even you and Andy weren't exactly "public" with your opposing schedules. You'd only ever been seen together at parties.

You finally reach your room and Billy leans against your counter, silently smiling at you as if he expects you to say something.

"What?" You ask, already starting the clean-up process.

"Just thought a 'thank you' would be in order." He shrugs.

"Thank you, Billy. Please hand me the broom," you groan, pointing to the tiny closet in the kitchen area. He rolls his eyes and carries the broom over to you. You're picking up the larger pieces of shattered glass and placing them into a small trashcan, hoping to make sweeping easier.

"Careful," Billy says as he notices a crack in the shard you're holding. His warning didn't reach you in time though, and the piece snapped, catching the upper part of your palm, slicing it open. "Jesus fucking-" Billy drops the broom and you follow him to the counter where he tears a wad of paper towels off the roll and shoves them into your hand. He stares at you with a straight face, almost like a disappointed parent. You stare back, blinking.

"What?" You ask, daring him to give you a hard time or risk being kicked out of your domicile.

"Nothing. Just getting tired of having to play doctor for you all the time." You release a huff and he smiles, a little sweeter than before.

(Do we want a part 2? Do we still read angst or are we all into smut rn? Maybe sex next chapter. idk.)

[occasionallyprosie]

"Gone Like The Wind"

Lana is desperate, the war has been going on for a while and she needed someone good. Someone who could help Link beat not just Cia, but also Ganondorf and Volga and all of them. Who better than the Hero of Legend who killed Ganon four times? Wait a second--That's not the hero, that's a merchant. Second try, surely this time--nope, that's a girl from an island. Third time is the charm, right? Wind saw that portal forming and he knew it was after his brother. There was no way he was letting it have him. TLDR: Wind gets yoinked into the War of Eras during the Linked Universe adventure. This results in some emotional struggles, some mischief, found family, and a lot of violence.

Read On AO3

Warnings: Graphic Violence, Implied Attempted Non-Con (Cia and Warriors), Swearing

----

Legend was having a very normal day, thank you. Nothing insane or abnormally absurd (aside from Wild deciding to try and test the group's spice tolerance for literally no reason this time, what the heck, Champion) happened, no ambushes or anything.

They were literally just walking when a portal--a different one than normal, blue and bright and not quite divine in nature, but powerful--tried to rip open.

Wind and Legend had been at the back, and both had spotted the portal. Legend went for his sword on instinct, but Wind shoved him just as the portal lunged at them.

Someone cried out. The portal was gone as quickly as it had formed and Wind with it.

Legend breathed an islander curse, one taught to him by their now missing hero and one he got scolded for saying by a red haired, bird-loving girl.

"What was that?!" Wild demanded, his voice higher than usual.

"Sailor?" Twilight called. As if that wasn't a portal filled to the brim with pure temporal magic, purer than Nayru's Harp.

Legend, still on the ground from getting shoved, stared at the place Wind had been not seconds ago.

He never thought he'd get angry at the protectiveness Wind displayed over him--it was understandable, he had been younger than him when they first met and even if he was older now by about three years, Wind was still his big brother in a way--but in that moment he felt it. Because of that, Wind had been taken alone. At the very least they'd both would've been taken or just Legend.

"You alright, Kit?" Time asked while Warriors tried to calm Twilight, who grew hysterical.

"Y-Yeah," he forced out, taking the offered hand to stand. "Just--" he cursed again, "I wasn't expecting that."

"To be pushed out of the way, or the... ambush?" Time asked, if Legend wasn't still staring at the spot Wind had been he would've noticed the worried look he was given.

"Both, honestly... he doesn't usually do that."

"Sailor, can you hear me?" Wild shook his slate, holding it to the sky to try and get a signal. "Sailor? Link?"

"LINK!" Four was yelling, Twilight transforming and running into the woods, Four giving chase and calling out.

Sky and Hyrule disappeared another way, Wild following them after only a moment.

Wind hadn't been expecting to see a portal--one he had never seen before--appear behind him and Legend. But some part of him told him that it was after his little (older) brother.

He shoved Legend just before the portal tried to snatch him, taking him instead.

It was disorienting, dizzying, and far worse than any of the other portals he had gone through. He internally apologized for every time he complained about any method of transportation, this was worse than taking tornadoes across the Great Sea.

He slammed into the ground and couldn't help but groan into his teeth, keeping silent as he tried to reorient his mind and get aware of his surroundings.

The ground was cold and hard--stone--and he could hear the chittering of bokoblins. He dazedly looked up, staying low and realizing where he was roughly.

A storage room, the light coming from the door meant it was an outdoor storage room, or one connected to a courtyard. Beside him was an overturned, empty barrel.

He heard footsteps, heavy and imbalanced, monster, approach and he quickly scrambled and pulled the barrel over himself. He needed to get a complete grip of himself before he fought if he wanted a good outcome. He could fight dizzy, hell, he has fought concussed before, but it wasn't his favorite thing to do.

Soon enough, he heard the door shut again and the footsteps fade, still hearing the chittering and snarls of monsters.

"Okay," he breathed. He internally thanked the goddesses or whatever it was that Legend and Twilight usually revered for not letting whatever it was that took him get a second try and drop any of his brothers on him.

He had all his supplies, he had a fairy and a red potion healing wise, and a week's rations for two people in case he was separated from Wild and needed food. He had his weapons, he could handle it, he'd be fine.

He had forged his hero's spirit, he could handle anything the world threw at him and he knew it. Besides, sneaking around in a barrel was familiar enough.

He managed to sneak out of the storage room--the door turned out to be a push/pull door and not needing a knob, lucky him--and just froze whenever he heard a monster nearby.

Then he heard distant battle. He rolled his eyes and after getting his balance standing, he shoved the barrel off.

He heard rapid footsteps and turned quickly.

A woman--scary woman, tall, easily taller than Time--with a huge blade stood there. One look at her and he knew she was dangerous, her eyes promised that, and she readied her blade toward him. She had the same symbol that Wild had on his slate, on her face.

He quickly drew the Phantom Sword and Hero's Shield.

There were monsters all around, but they didn't immediately attack. Wind figured that meant this woman was in charge of them. Wild had mentioned that there were some people who used to be Sheikah who betrayed Hyrule and became servants of Ganondorf (or was it Ganon?), he would guess this woman was one of them.

She attacked him first, and she was fast but extremely powerful. Wind yelped, falling back on his feet and fending off powerful, violent, reverberating blows that made his spinning head infinitely worse.

She dented his shield.

Wind evaded her and fought back, focusing on his evasive attacks and slashing at her whenever he could.

He could see her flagging, but he had a feeling he couldn't win this one.

No. He couldn't risk that. He had to get back to his brothers, he had to make sure--

He slammed into the wall as her blade hit his shield and threw him back. She came at him just as quickly as Warriors could lunge right after an attack. He barely blocked his skull in time, only to get hit in the head with his own shield.

His shield cracked. He rolled on the ground, pain flaring through his bruised body.

He couldn't move, he tried but that hit to his head was awful. He couldn't get to his feet.

Damnit, get up, Link! Get up!

He could hear the screeches of the monsters, bokos he's pretty sure, and the sounds of battle echoed. He got to a knee but swayed and almost collapsed again.

It's okay. Twilight's voice rang in his head. Jus' breathe, Ocean. Head injuries are bad, ya can't always push pass them.

He needed to this time. He was dead if he didn't. Better or worse, he could be captured. He had to push past it!

Black pressed at the edges of his vision.

A weight settled on his shoulder and he froze a whole moment late, seeing the weapon he had been fending off moments before.

"Stand down." The woman's voice sounded underwater.

He grabbed his sword, shaking and he tried to channel his Triforce. Legend said it would help them if they used it.

He could feel its strength flare through him, giving him the briefest moment of clarity and stability.

He slashed at her, throwing himself forward at the same time as she jumped back. She dodged his first slash, but had to block his second.

Be fast, begin your next move while you are doing your current one. Warriors' advice rang through his head, his Triforce flared once more as he cut the woman's side.

She landed one more hit and sent him flying across the stone courtyard.

He was out before he hit the ground.

Quiet chatter, wary sounds, distant grinding and warm laughter.

His body felt heavy, but not hurt. Something scratchy was over him, he felt it on his arms and his hands.

When he pried his eyes open, the soft light of a candlelit lantern greeted him. It took him a moment to adjust and focus, seeing multiple other beds, most of them occupied, and the woman who he fought talking with someone in a white tunic and chain mail armor beneath it. Beside her was...

"Cap'n," he murmured, not even loud enough to travel to them. None of them heard him, clearly, but he did get a better look.

That wasn't Warriors. That was a seventeen year old soldier, it looked like Warriors sure, but distinctly younger, face completely impassive and blank, lacking the scar along his jaw that Wind was familiar with.

Time travel. Wars' quest involved a lot of time travel and people displaced from their times.

He let out a soft breath. If that was where and when he was, he would be fine. He just had to convince them he wasn't against them, and considering the cuff around his left wrist, they didn't know that.

He sat up, noting his head didn't hurt anymore. They healed him, nice.

"You know," he spoke up, keeping his voice light enough that it wouldn't bother the injured soldiers sleeping around the tent, "it's rude to ignore your guests."

The woman who had beat him up turned and glared at him, mini Warriors gave a confused look, and the medic made a surprised noise. 

"Who said you were a guest?" The woman asked.

"I did," he replied, grinning at them as he propped his chin on his fist. "Considering someone here snatched me from my time, and considering you attacked me without reason, I'd say that gives me at minimum guest status. How's the war going?"

They stared at him.

"If you truly are displaced in time," the woman said lowly, eyes narrowing. "You would not know of the war."

Wind gave her a wry smirk. "But I do. How about this? My name's Link and I'm the Hero of Winds." He looked at Mini Wars. "I know that my story is still told in this era."

They stared at him.

"Captain," the woman looked at Mini Wars, "bring Lana here, and the kid, he said he could sense your shared spirits?"

Mini Wars nodded and Wind only just noticed the fairy beside him.

"Yes, General," the fairy said and Mini Wars left the tent. The woman approached Wind and he met her eyes unflinchingly.

"You are a skilled fighter," she said. "You fight like a Sheikah."

"I fight like my older brother, who was trained by a Sheikah, the royal army, and someone else he met when he was younger."

He studied her, she was strong, he experienced that firsthand. If she was acknowledging his skill after fighting him concussed, he wondered if he could win in a fair fight. Unlikely, but he'd do better.

"You've experienced time travel before," she stated.

He nodded. "Yeah, and I'll tell you that your portals fucking suck. Even a lizard could do better."

"Excuse me?!" A woman with bright blue hair had just entered the tent. "My portals do not suck!"

"Lady Lana--"

"Yea, they do." Wind argued, noticing a syringe on the table beside him. "Your portals are worse than flying across the ocean on a fucking tornado."

She made an affronted noise, the tent door swished aside as Mini Wars reentered with... a kid.

At first glance, he was reminded of Apple. Second glance, the kid couldn't have looked less like his little brother. Brighter hair, same shade and style's as Time's, a familiar green cap but also a yellow mask on the side of his head... a mask that Time had shown them before. He looked young, younger than Wind even, but his eyes...

He was tired, he had experienced a lot and his confident stance, his dangerous, angry eyes, the way he met Wind's eyes...

"He doesn't have it," the kid declared. "He doesn't have our spirit."

"Of course I don't," he spoke up, gaining their attention again. He didn't look away from the kid's eyes. "You have it. I don't need your special little spirit to be a hero, I forged my own. I made myself the hero when nobody else could."

He was honestly surprised nobody noticed, but he held up his unlocked, picked cuff that no longer clasped around his wrist.

"So, why don’t we talk about how I can help you guys in this war of yours, and you can make sure I get back right to the place and time I left when it's over. I was a bit busy."

"So you are not the famed Hero of Legend?" Lana asked him when they finally sat down to have an actually civil conversation. "The hero who slayed Ganon multiple times?"

"No, but we've met and if you try to drag him into this then we will have a problem," Wind warned her, glaring.

"We are seeking additional support and power," Lana argued.

"And you got me, try and touch my brothers and we'll actually start having problems," Wind retorted, standing from his chair.

Lana glared at him. "Fine." She held her hands up. "You are a renowned hero, I suppose you will suffice... even if you are young."

"I killed Ganondorf by driving my sword through his skull," Wind spat. "I can handle a war."

"If you say so," she sighed. "It has already been ongoing for a year."

Wind hummed. "Good thing I'm a fast learner."

The war apparently picked up soon after Wind arrived. Battles taking place near daily, monsters sieging military camps and towns. Wind found himself fighting beside Link and Mask, who he internally dubbed Mini Wars and Mini Time.

Both were skilled, Mask more than Link, but Link was... He needed help. After a particularly brutal battle not a week after Wind arrived--he hadn't had any time to talk to anyone, he had seen Legend's merchant friend, a familiar wolf who gave him a knowing look--he decided to make Link learn how to fight faster.

He was surprised Impa hadn't taught him it by now, but she seemed busy and everything Link did screamed 'soldier' in a way Wild did on bad days.

"You move too slow," he told Link after they left Mask in the medical wing.

Link flinched, it was hard to notice but Wind could read Legend and Time and compared to them, this kid was as obvious as Aryll.

"You fight like a soldier," Wind corrected before Proxi could yell at him for Link. "You fight like you have people at your side, giving blows when you’re planning your next move."

He frowned.

"Link is a soldier," Proxi said, fluttering in front of Wind scoldingly.

Wind rolled his eyes. "Yes, he is. But the thing is, he's expected to be a hero." He met Link's eyes. "People won't think to fight beside you and cover your mistakes." Sky had said that it was hard to adjust when he began to fight with the other knights. "You have to cover yourself, you have to follow up yourself."

There was a deep rooted sadness, a plea that Wind couldn't decipher in his eyes, and Link nodded.

"How?" Proxi asked.

Wind thought about it and recalled the clearing outside the camp.

"We'll train," he said. He recalled what Warriors had told him once. "You can't fight and expect to think at the same time, especially when you fight alone. You have to always be moving." He headed for the clearing, close enough to camp they weren't missing, but far enough nobody should see them. "My older brother taught me how to fight like a Sheikah," he informed them, "so I'll show you how to do the same, and then we'll see if Impa can help us get better."

"Us?" Proxi asked.

"Eh, I don’t mind learning more."

Between battles, Link--through Proxi--asked Wind to train more, especially after bad battles. Mask started following and throw in in advice, but neither Wind nor Link fought with heavy, two handed weapons like Mask did. So his advice wasn't bad, just didn't go very far.

Wind found himself missing his brothers fast. It was like Hytopia all over again, but this time he had them right there... they just didn't know him yet.

He slipped away from the camp at the end of the second week in this war and ten consecutive battles, and he found a spot to just sit.

He found himself humming, not quite singing but the wind sang with him. Trees rustling to the tune.

He felt someone disturb the breeze and looked over to see Wolfie padding over.

"Hey, Forest," he murmured. Wolfie lowered himself beside him. "Can't change back?"

He boofed.

"Good," he sighed. "I know you hate that... goddesses, when are you? Have you met the captain before?"

Wolfie bobbed his head in a nod.

"Okay, have you finished that quest?"

Wolfie boofed softly.

Wind hummed. "You’re older then... are you even displaced? You live until the Champion's era, right?"

Wolfie gave him a look and Wind wasn't sure how off he was.

"So Midna's displaced. Does she think you’re displaced?"

Wolfie nodded again.

"That must suck ass," Wind laughed, he knew it came out bitter but oh well, he couldn't keep face at the moment. His brother was doomed to live millennia beyond his time, they didn't even know if he'd finally rest after Wild, just that he would be there until him.

They fell silent and he messed with the winds, letting a soft song that he used to hear Wild hum all the time ring through the trees and between the branches and grass.

He buried his face against his knees, just trying to stop thinking. The worst part was that he was hardly anytime into this thing. Warriors said once the war had gone on three years. Time said it was the shortest three years of his life, which both Four and Legend had gotten upset over because how could a stretch of time take longer or shorter than another?

He was two weeks into this, and he was tired. He wanted his brothers back but they were right there.

The wind that brushed over Wolfie suddenly ran into something else. Wind didn't get the chance to look up before he was pulled into strong arms.

"I can't stay like this long, Sailor," Twilight murmured quietly. "They can't know 'bout me."

He wanted to cry. "I want to go back."

"I know, it'll be okay though," Twilight promised. "I'm right here, an' so's the Captain and the Old Man."

Wind laughed. "Ain't much of an old man, isn't he?"

"No, never really has been," Twilight said and Wind was certain there was something deeper to his words. "Alright. Listen to me, Ocean." Wind met his eyes and noticed the blue was much, much sharper than before. "Yer a hero, if you could remake the Triforce you can win a war." He laughed a bit. "You can train our Cap'n into the warrior we meet."

Wind swallowed and nodded.

"I'm gonna to change back now, an' I'm gonna go back to Midna, she ain't gonna be happy I left in the first place, but you come find me if you need me... I think ya'll be fine though."

Wind hugged him one more time before he transformed back into Wolfie.

"Link!" He jumped and saw Mask climbing over a log from the camp. He was glaring at him. "What are you doing out here?"

Wind looked to Twilight, but he was gone, he had disappeared.

"Just..." Wind trailed off. "Thinking."

Mask scoffed. "Right. Well the big Link wants to talk to you about you being here."

He tilted his head. "What do you mean?"

"You’re what, fourteen?"

Wind nodded.

"It's not legal to do anything as a kid here," Mask spat, "anything important at least. He's eighteen, almost nineteen. He had to fucking adopt me when I showed up so I could legally help in this stupid, fucking war that dragged me from my time. I'm guessing that's what he's going to do with you, or if you don’t like him, someone else from here and an adult will need to or you have to go to some orphanage 'til the war's over."

Wind stared, in part of what he said and in part of what he said. "That's--sorry, aren't you too young to be cursing?" That's what Time always told him.

"Fuck off. I'm older than I look," Mask snapped. "Look, three days can very easily become three years, that's all I got to say on that."

Wind blinked, then he shrugged. "Fair enough. But either way, their laws on kids is utter bullshit. I've fought Ganondorf, I killed Ganondorf, I sailed across the entire ocean when I was twelve!"

"And I've killed Ganondorf twice, and I fought the moon," Mask said bluntly, "they don’t care."

He groaned. "Fine. Fine! If it makes things easier, I don't mind the Captain adopting me."

Mask made a face--he must get better at controlling his face in the future--and Wind could tell he didn't like that.

He frowned. "Unless you don’t like that."

"I didn't say I did, fucking--"

"You didn't need to." Wind realized even if he claimed to be older than he looked, he was definitely still a kid. "Do we need to go back now?"

"No..."

"Why don’t you join me then?" Wind gestured to the forest floor beside him. "I was listening to music."

"What music?"

Wind grinned. "Listen."

He twitched his fingers, he didn't need the Wind Waker anymore to control the winds, it was a part of him. Soon, the wind sang around them. A song that Time taught him when he pestered the old man into playing his ocarina--the wooden one, the non-magic one--reverberated around him.

Mask froze, eyes widening as he looked up and listened to the upbeat song. The forest itself seemed to like it. Wind had noticed this particular song did well in forests.

"How..." Mask croaked. "What..."

"My older brother taught me," Wind said and Mask snapped his head toward him. Wind gave him a smile. "He said it's a gate to the past... a past we can't return to, but that doesn't mean it has to be sad, there's a future we can go to instead."

Mask was trembling a bit, his hand rested on his pouch. "Can you make it keep playing?"

Wind smiled and nodded. Mask sat down beside him and just listened.

"Do you know any other songs?" Mask asked, quiet as if he feared disturbing the song that was literally in the airs

Wind orchestrated with his fingers, small, imperceptible movements.

The song changed to the one Tetra taught him, a song she only vaguely remembered as the one her mother sang to her. He learned the whole thing from Legend.

"How... How do you know this one?" Mask asked.

"My best friend taught it to me," he said. "She only knows part of it, her mom sang it to her as a lullaby but she died and now my friend can't remember the whole thing anymore. My little brother knows the whole thing though, he taught me the rest."

"Little brother?  How many do you have?"

"Ah, technically I only have a little sister. Blood-wise at least." He smiled up at the sky, thinking of Aryll and teaching her those constellations that shone overhead. "But I've got eight brothers, most older, one of them was younger than me but time travel made him older, he's still my little brother though. I'm not related to them though."

Mask nodded. "So the little brother is who taught you this song?"

"Yeah."

"Is he a prince? Because this song is for the royal family. Ima guess your best friend is your Zelda, we found out both Captain Link and I have a Zelda."

 Wind smiled. "Her name is Tetra, actually, but yeah she's my Zelda. As for him... I don't know, if he is, he never told me. He did mention having a sister though."

"Maybe you should've asked," Mask said. "If he is... well, at least I know it's not completely impossible for the goddess to have sons."

Wind had no clue what he meant by that but he left it alone.

The song kept playing through the air, and a moment later, Wind felt Mask fall asleep against his shoulder. He couldn't help but smile softly, brushing curtain bangs aside.

He knew Mask would look like the little kid he clearly was if he just stopped scowling.

He felt someone draw near and he lightened their footsteps to force them to be quieter, and reached for his sword in case it wasn't someone he could trust.

Wolfie entered, ridden by Midna, followed by Link.

"There--"

"Shh," Wind hissed. Midna almost argued but fell quiet when she saw Mask asleep.

Link, who Wind had only seen tense and firm since they... met, lost all tension in his shoulders as he approached.

"He's fine," Wind whisper before Proxi could say a word. "I was playing some tunes and I guess the lullabies were too good."

"Tunes?" Link repeated, smiling softly and Wind startled a bit at hearing his voice. "Odd word. Suits you."

He stared at him for only a moment before smiling. "Thanks... I guess." He glanced at Mask, then at Link. "I think you'll have better luck taking him to bed than I will."

Link hummed. "Thank you, Tune."

Tune. He liked that.

"It's nothing," he promised quietly. "Kid needs his sleep."

Link laughed quietly. He reached over and Tune clapped silently when he managed to pick up Mask without waking the kid. Link rolled his eyes and lightly kicked him.

"Come on," he whispered, "you need sleep too."

Tune grinned at him and bounced up to his feet. He was about to retort when Mask shifted in Link's arms. They froze.

Tune mimed zipping his lips shut and Link nodded. They left the clearing and Tune flicked his fingers to bring the lullaby back to the air, Midna and Wolfie followed them while Proxi settled on Link's head.

Midna floated around Link to coo mockingly at Mask, he gave her a pointed look. Tune smiled softly as Proxi hissed warnings at Midna.

He startled when Wolfie nosed his hand. Then he just smiled and pet his head for a second, not enough to be petting him, but as an acknowledgment.

He wasn't alone. He had his brothers here. Some a bit younger--some a lot younger, and some much, much older, but they were still his brothers.

He wondered how long he'd be gone from the quest... he wondered if he'd ever return.

Warriors glared at the fire after everyone gathered again. They spent the whole day searching on the off chance that Wind had only been displaced in space and not time.

"Maybe we're not going far enough?" Sky tried.

"He should be getting a signal from my slate," Wild sighed. "He could call me all the way from Lurelin when I was in the Akkala Research Lab. Opposite sides of the country."

"I..." Sky sighed, dropping his head into his hands.

"Can I cook?" Legend asked suddenly. Warriors looked over at their veteran, who had hardly said a word since Wind was taken. He was flexing his hands and fidgeting.

Wild handed over his slate and Warriors shifted away from the fire as Legend knelt by it.

"What even happened?" Four wondered aloud. "That portal had a purpose. It wanted one of us, obviously, and Wind was just the one who it got. But why?"

Warriors wondered that too. It had looked a lot like Lana's and Cia's portals, but the war was over, Lana didn't do portals and Cia was gone. Nobody could form those portals anymore, so obviously that wasn't it.

An hour later, they were eating cookies.

Nobody knew how Legend made cookies in a cooking pot, but none of them decided to question it. Though Warriors was a bit concerned when he saw the veteran handing Wild a... a whole pie?

Tune was fifteen and staring at the carnage of their camp.

No, they weren't post battle, but he almost wished they were.

"Why?" He asked, voice strained.

Mask grinned at him. "Because."

"You dyed Impa's hair bright green."

"Yep."

"She's going to kill you."

"She doesn't know it was me."

Tune inhaled carefully. "Look, kid, I--Never mind. Just, next time get that guy who told Link--"

"That all he is is a pretty face?" A hysterical scream echoed through the camp as Mask's grin grew. "I already did."

 Tune looked over and lo and behold, a soldier was on fire.

"Good job," he said. Mask grinned brighter and he disappeared to oceans knew where.

Tune didn't know how Link couldn't tell it was Mask responsible for those incidents--Tune called them Mask Incidents--but he didn't and it was the funniest thing ever.

Mask hoped the war wouldn't end some days, the nice days, the ones he could pull tricks on Link and run off with Tune only for Midna and Wolfie to drag them back.

Other days, he almost wished he was back in Termina, at least it never got that bad there.

He never knew where Tune stood on that scale, he knew his big brother fellow hero missed his brothers and his family back home, but Tune never seemed to show that.

He noticed him start drawing, and for the first few months, Tune's scrapped sketches that Mask never got full view of were thrown into a fire. Almost an entire year went by like that until Tune stopped and then would hug his sketchbook to his chest.

Mask never thought Tune could be sad, not truly sad. He'd seen the older kid get mad, usually when someone was hurt, he'd seen him happy and everything else. Never upset or sad.

Not until one late night he woke up to screaming and crying.

Mask shot up. He saw the swish of Link's scarf and then saw the source of the screaming in Tune, who was now just sobbing in his bed.

Mask had felt fear before, but not often for another person. Usually he was the one in danger, this war had changed that to an extent but still.

In that moment, he feared to his core that Tune had been poisoned in the night or something. He scrambled up as Link wrapped Tune up in his scarf.

"Shh--it's okay, you’re okay, it's alright, Link," Link murmured softly into Tune's temple. Tune sobbed and cling to him.

It clicked. A nightmare.

"Please," Tune begged.

"Its okay. We're right here. Mask is with us, I got you, you’re right here. It's okay," Link promised. "You’re okay. It's okay."

"It's not," Tune sobbed. "I want to go back."

Mask frowned. What?

"I know," Link promised, and that just cut Mask deeper. "It'll happen eventually, don't worry, it'll be alright."

Several more minutes of crying and quiet platitudes, Link didn't talk to anyone except for Tune and Mask much and Mask almost worried all the talking would hurt his throat as bad as Tune's sounded.

Then Tune went quiet, his shaking slowly ceased. Link wrapped him tighter in his big scarf and looked over at Mask.

Link frowned. "Sprite? Are you okay?"

"Huh?" Mask blinked, startling as he felt a tear fall. "I-I'm fine!"

"C'mere," he said softly. "We'll have a cuddle pile."

Mask huffed but he climbed onto Tune's bed with them.

"What's on your mind, Sprite?" Link asked quietly.

Mask sighed. "He wants to leave us."

Link squeezed his arm. "It's not that, it's... it's not us, it's them. You know he loves us, he's adopted you just as much as I have at this point." Mask snorted. "It's just... he misses those siblings he talks about all the time."

"But we're right here," Mask insisted, letting Link pull him close and feeling his interrupted sleep tug on him.

"I know, Sprite," Link whispered against his head. "I know, but we only miss what we don't have."

Tune was sixteen and staring at his Sheikah stone. He had tried to call Wild maybe a thousand times since he ended up here.

He was exactly sixteen, actually... it was his birthday. He was officially the same age as Four.

He had spent hours and hours learning how to draw well, and it got him a sketchbook full of pictures of the others. He stared at the group picture he'd drawn, then flicked a few pages, tracing the dark lines of Wild's scars, Four's eyes, Hyrule's ears, Legend's smirk, Twilight's tattoo, Time's nose, Warriors' smile.

He was so engrossed in memories he didn't even notice someone sit beside him until they spoke.

"Is that Captain Link? You messed up, he doesn't have a scar there." Mask pointed at the scar against Warriors' neck.

Tune jerked his sketchbook back against his chest, hiding the drawings from the kid.

Mask gave him a narrowed eyed look. "What? You've shown me your stuff before."

"Not them," he said, clutching his sketchbook tight. "Look, I... It's not our Link, that's my older brother."

Mask stared at him. "He looks a lot like Link."

"I know," Tune let out a strained, bitter laugh. "Oh trust me, I know."

He frowned. "Does... Does that bother you?" His words were careful and very strained. It didn't take a Mask expert to know he was uncomfortable with saying them.

Tune snorted. "Don’t hurt yourself. We both know that comfort ain't your thing."

Mask huffed. "Oh fuck off. I'm trying."

Tune laughed a bit. He trailed off, the dancing and crackling fire almost letting him pretend he was in a very different camp.

"A little bit," he admitted. "Sometimes I'll... Sometimes I look over and I think it's him, I think it's my brother--and yeah, Link is my brother, adoption or not. I wouldn't trade either of you for anything, I just.." he sighed. "I miss them. I miss Aryll and Tetra and my Grandma. Aryll's almost fourteen now."

"How... How old are you?"

Tune looked at the sky. "Sixteen."

"Wait really? As of when?"

He smiled sadly. "Today."

Mask made an affronted noise. "And you didn't say anything?! Okay, no more moping!" He grabbed Tune's arm and dragged him up. "Link!"

They had a whole, thrown together party after the others found out it was Tune's birthday. Between Marin's familiar islander singing and dancing, Ravio's ability to just have everything you need when you need it, and everyone else's just...

It was a good night; a good birthday.

Tune searched the battlefield, the blood and carnage around them, and more particularly, Link's absence.

"Mask!" He barked, turning the corner of the dark palace and spotting the young hero stumbling back after prying his sword free of a ribcage. "Where's the Captain?"

"He chased Cia somewhere," Mask spat, glaring at the bodies. He fixed his Keaton mask on the side of his head. "I couldn't keep up with all the monsters."

With Cia? Tune cursed Link's insistence on keeping Mask out of the loop on what Cia really wanted, even if he wholeheartedly understood and agreed.

"Which way?" He demanded.

Mask gestured down the hall. "That way, don't know from there."

"Keep up," Tune snapped. He pulled the Wind Waker from his pouch, he'd need the--what did Legend call it, a focus?--extra help from the baton. He extended his senses into the wind and blew it outward, running down the hall.

A moblin was blasted out a window and he finally sensed where Link--and Cia--was.

He stopped by a broken window, eyes narrowing. "They're on the top floor. Get there fast, I'm taking a shortcut."

"A shortcut? How--TUNE!"

A tornado flung him out the window and up into the sky.

He spotted the large windows to the top floor, and as they drew closer he could see the glint of Link's sword, the Master Sword, on the ground. He twisted in air and shattered the window as he dove right through it.

Cia snarled as she stepped away from Link, who was on the ground with his back against the wall.

"You little brats--"

"Get the fuck away from him!" Tune lunged at her. She cursed violently, stumbling back and swinging her wand at him. He batted it aside with his shield and tried to slash at her.

Between their anger, neither was quite losing to the other until Tune finally took a hit and wasn't able to get away before Cia grabbed him by the chin.

Link screamed. "No!"

Tune had never heard Link speak outside of safe moments between mostly just the three of them.

Tune froze with the wand pointed at his chest. "You’re... You’re not a hero," she said. "You lack that gorgeous immortal spirit."

"No. No--Stop it Cia!" Link begged, getting to his feet. "Let him go, please!"

Tune snarled. "My spirit is my own. I made it. You can go fuck yourself."

"Please," Link all but whimpered, "please, let him go."

Cia grinned slowly, her eyes slipping to Link.

Tune didn't let her keep her eyes on him long. He kicked her exposed stomach, kneeing the wand in the process. She gasped, falling back and he lunged right at her.

She fell back, but he had the advantage suddenly and she couldn't handle it.

Tune snarled when she used her magic and vanished. But that wasn't what was important.

He turned quickly and ran over to Link, sheathing his sword on his back.

"Link! Are you okay? Are you hurt? Did she touch you?" Tune demanded, Link collapsed back to the ground, shaking.

Link made a strangled noise. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. It's all my fault--"

"No." Tune knelt down in front of him, ignoring the pain flaring through his knee. "No, don't you say that. You didn't ask for this--Link, look at me," he lowered himself to force Link to meet his eyes, "look at me. You didn't ask for this, you didn't ask for any of this. Now talk to me, are you hurt? Did she touch you?"

Link slowly lifted his chin and moved his hand away from his neck. Tune saw the line of blood from the edge of his jaw down to his collarbone.

He pulled out a cloth and a red potion from his pouch, uncorking the potion and letting Link handle drinking it and holding the cloth to the cut.

"Alright, let's go," Tune said softly. "We're going to find Mask and go back to camp, you’re going to clean up and rest, we'll keep watch."

"You need rest too," Link protested weakly.

"I've stayed up longer," Tune promised. "Trust me, I'll rest later. Do you want a hand?"

Link shook his head. Tune nodded and got up, he went and gathered Link's sword and shield as the captain stood unsteadily. He handed the weapons over and led the way out.

Mask was running around the corner just in time.

"You missed it!" Tune teased him. "Too slow I guess."

"You left me!" Mask shoved him. "Brat."

"Older than you."

"I'll kill you."

"And get left behind again?"

Tune kept Mask effectively distracted as they got back to the ended battle and then to camp.

Getting Midna and Wolfie to continue distracting Mask was easy, Tune left with Link and began his vigil for the shaking teenager.

"TUNE!" Mask screamed.

Tune rolled across the rocky battlefield, pain shooting through his head and body.

The battle had been going on for what felt like weeks but was probably only a day or two. It didn't matter either way, Tune had made a mistake that may be costing him his life.

He couldn't get up. He couldn't see. His left arm was broken for sure, he had no chance--

He felt the ground shake as the heavy monster he had been fighting lumbered toward him.

He shouldn't have messed that one up. He could handle big monsters, that was how he handled things. He used his size to his advantage. It shouldn't have caught him but a blade had caught his face right before the thing's mace caught his side.

Now he was laying injured on a battlefield without any support nearby. He was so dead.

An apology went out to the stars, a plea for his families to know he wouldn't come back.

His vision was already dark, but even then it slipped away as unconsciousness took hold.

Link hadn't expected Tune to be the first one down that day, but he heard Mask scream at the same moment he heard the cracking of bones. He saw Tune tumble across the battlefield.

He rushed to get close, but he couldn't manage it.

A burst of power fell over the field, a flicker of Lana's magic too, and Link saw the Fierce Deity unleash its and Mask's fury onto the battlefield.

He ran to get to Tune, slashing through the hordes, but when he reached the area, someone was already there and fending off the horde.

A teenaged girl wielding a cutlass was standing over Tune, Lana's magic around her and her unsteady movements showed she had only just been brought here, Link had thought Lana agreed not to displace more people, but he wouldn't complain when this girl was the only reason he could hope that Tune wasn't dead.

He fought his way to them as Fierce Deity cleared the rest of the field in minutes. The girl turned on him, raising her cutlass.

He halted and held his hands up.

"Who the hell are you and why the fuck is Link hurt?" She demanded.

Proxi flew forward. "We're trying to help him, he's our friend and a dark stalmaster got the drop on him!"

The girl hesitated. "Do you have healing supplies?"

Link nodded.

She moved aside and Link rushed to Tune's side. He called a healing fairy while pouring his water onto a clean cloth and wiping at Tune's blood-covered face.

The girl inhaled sharply. "Great Oceans," she breathed, "Link..."

Link couldn't blame her. Tune's eye was gone. The healing fairy murmured her apologies but she couldn't restore his eye. Otherwise, she healed him, even the broken arm, and he'd wake soon.

Link cleaned the blood from Tune's face. Closing the eye again.

"I... He'll need an eyepatch," the girl said. "To keep things from getting into it."

Link felt the power oppressing the field fade, he looked over and saw the Fierce Deity vanish...

Mask collapsed.

"Mask!" Proxi cried. "Watch him!" She ordered the girl.

Knowing a friend of Tune's was watching him, Link ran to Mask's side.

How had this battle gone so wrong that both his little brothers were hurt? Why was Mask's face covered in blood too?

He skidded across the dirt and pulled Mask into his arms. He shouldn't be injured, Fierce Deity swore to Link once that any harm that comes to Mask is only from the transformation itself, never anything else.

So why was blood gushing from Mask's eye when he hadn't been injured like that before he put on the mask? Why was he passed out?

Link looked over and saw the girl helping Tune to his feet. Tune wobbled a bit, but he was clearly distracted as he just stared at her.

Link shifted his hand to his sword, ready to run to Tune's aid in case this girl wasn't the ally he assumed she was--

Tune tackled her with a cry. "Tetra!"

Tune was a completely different person with Tetra around, Link noticed. Not in a bad or weird way, he just... seemed happier.

Mask was quiet for several days after that battle. His eye was white now, and he had colorful markings on his face. But when Tune was finally allowed to introduce Tetra to the kid, the two teenagers got Mask right back to high spirits.

It felt like ages since the day they both lost an eye, but Tune was glad they were able to make up for each other's blind spots. He was panting, breathing heavily as he and Mask searched for their next opponent yet.

A flash of white came and Mask was lowering his Fierce Deity mask, Tune tensed at seeing the familiar markings on his face and scar over his eye.

"Link!" Tetra jogged over with Midna and Wolfie in tow. "Is it over?"

"Not sure," Tune said. "We should go find the Captain. He'd be at the center of anything if it's not."

They nodded.

Soon enough, they did find Link, and they found Lana holding Cia's unmoving form.

The moment Tune met Lana's eyes, he knew. He grabbed Tetra's hand. She startled and shot him a glare but didn't pull away.

Tune looked over at Mask beside him, at how different he was since they first met. He was a decent bit taller now but not yet even taller than Tune. He was fifteen, Tune knew, the three years of war and three years in Termina put his mental age a year younger than Tune. Physically though, he was only twelve.

He tried to commit the kid he knows to memory. His face, the still red scar over his eye, the lack of sight in that same eye, the markings... the softer look he didn't have when they first met. He wasn't as jaded and exhausted anymore.

"Mask! Tune!" Link ran over to them. "Are you guys okay?"

"We're fine," Mask said dismissively. "What about you?"

"I'm okay," Link promised. Tune was proud of how much he grew since they met, how much more he spoke. "It's--"

"Link," Tune spoke, letting go of Tetra to move forward. "We're leaving."

Mask spun to look at him. "What?!"

Link stared.

Tune nodded to Lana, who was pressing her forehead to Cia's and not looking at them yet, whispering something.

"It's time for us to return," Tune said quietly. "Their magic is growing right now, I can feel it, can't you?"

Mask stared, then tears bubbled in his eyes. "I..."

"Yeah," Tune said. "We're leaving soon." He stepped closer. "I'll see you soon."

"Don’t say that," Link whispered and he pulled Tune into a hug, Mask too.

"Time's a weird thing, Captain," Tune laughed. "Who knows, maybe Mask here will be the oldest of us next time."

"I hope not," Mask grumbled. "I like being the youngest, even if being a kid sucks ass. Being the oldest means responsibility."

Link laughed. "And we all know you hate being responsible," Link teased.

"I... I don’t want to go," Mask admitted.

"I know," Tune sighed. "But hey, isn't there anyone back home you'd like to see again? An old friend, someone who helped you out? What about that horse of yours?"

Mask gave him a more vulnerable, sad look than he'd ever seen on the young hero's face. "But you..."

"Here." Tune suddenly pressed his Wind Waker into Mask's hands. "Keep this safe for me. Give it back next time I see you."

"Wha--but--"

"Nope. No arguments. Maybe you'll have some fun with it and the Song of Storms."

Mask clutched the baton to his chest. Link ruffled Tune's hair.

"You’re a good brother," Link told him. "Be safe, okay, sailor?"

Tune grinned. "Of course."

They could all feel the moment Lana and Cia were righting and returning everyone to their times. Tune quickly hugged Wolfie before he grabbed Tetra's hand.

"Wait!" Mask suddenly ran and shoved something wooden into Tune's chest. Tune startled and he stared in shock at the item he was given. He saw Mask wipe a tear from his face. "So--So you know I won't use it anymore."

"Mask--"

"No. Keep it--we'll trade back next time."

Tune laughed softly. "Alright, fine."

Link pulled them both into another hug, he signed a goodbye to the others as well, and Tune clutched the Fierce Deity mask against his chest.

Everyone waved goodbye, and he waved back as the world vanished around him, Tetra included.

Tune knew he was different from how he was before the war. He was older, for one. Two years older.

He looked more like a pirate, eye patch for his right eye, a scar along his lower arm, he couldn't fit his lobster shirt anymore--it got torn up beyond their ability to repair it, but he kept it in case maybe Legend could--but he still kept blue, though it was a darker shade and more of a jacket than a shirt, he thought he looked more like a pirate... the jacket definitely didn't look like Linebeck's either.

As he found himself standing in a forest, alone, he looked down at the mask in his hands, brushing a finger over the markings it shared with his little brother.

He sighed softly, put it away, swiped the tears from his face, and started to look around for any path or sign of hylian or human life.

It was dark before he spotted anything, and that was a fire.

He wandered toward the fire, moving as lightly as possible and not making a sound as he did so.

He came up to a fire where a familiar--painfully so, his art never did them justice, suddenly his heart hurt at seeing them--group of hylians sat around a fire.

He took a breath, backed up, made certain the closest person was Warriors who would attack but would hesitate when he saw him--he trusted that--and he entered the light of the fire.

The camp was quieter than usual. Legend knew exactly why.  

Wind was still missing, a week and one new era later, their youngest was still gone.

Legend didn't ever know he could... bake with a cooking pot, but somehow he could and did. He also didn't know that he stress baked still, but apparently yep, that too.

He wasn't sure how to keep morale up either, not anymore. Wind always helped in that regard.

Suddenly he heard branches cracking and someone stumbled into their camp. He grabbed his sword and was ready to attack.

"I have been looking for years--" the newcomer with extremely familiar magic began, "and I still haven't figured out where you got the gall to pretend you're responsible!"

There was a brief moment of silence before Warriors burst into laughter and Time groaned.

Legend blinked. "SAILOR?!"

Warriors cackled louder, Time held his head in his hands, and the newcomer--messy blond hair, an eyepatch over one eye, a dark blue coat with a lobster sewn onto the chest pocket, a huge, familiar smirk--gave Legend a bright smile in replacement of that smirk.

"Knew you'd recognize me, Apple." Wind laughed. "Honestly, how did you convince everyone you’re actually responsible, Mask? Myself included. You're an absolute menace and I have the scars to prove it."

"I never scarred you."

"Mentally you did!"

"Please. You were just as involved."

"Boys."

Sky made a surprised noise as both Time and Wind shut up at Warriors' voice, but Warriors was grinning like an idiot and Legend was so confused.

"Honestly, not even ten seconds back together and you’re causing problems."

"He's the one who set Impa's tent on fire!"

"You--" Time clicked his jaw shut and glared at Wind. "You're lucky I'm an adult now."

"As if that stopped you before," he retorted. He crossed his arms and redirected his gaze to everyone else. "So, it's been two years for me, I can tell you that war sucks and I'm still younger than my little brothers. Someone wanna remind me what shit is going down again? I have no clue what I've forgotten."

"I give up," Four declared, falling back onto the ground. "I think that makes me the youngest now. Yayyyyy."

"I don't even..." Wild trailed off.

Legend couldn't help but agree with all of them.

Twilight looked genuinely exhausted, Sky confused, Time seemed like he very much wasn't the annoyingly vague and mysterious sage person and instead an annoyed kid who got called out, Warriors looked rather content, Four and Wild seemed done, and Hyrule had visibly checked out at some point. Legend felt like he was some mix of all of the above with the exception of Warriors and Time, since they apparently knew what was going on.

He sighed heavily and scooted a bit closer to Twilight. He pat the open ground beside him. "Sit down, update us and we'll update you."

He knew that was the right move as he felt Wind's magic swell and envelop his like a tornado. Wind did sit beside him and immediately launched into a story about how he ended up in some storage room and got beat up by some "badass Sheikah lady" who was apparently Warriors' Impa, and who helped Wind teach Warriors how to fight like he does... because Warriors was the one to teach Wind how to fight that way.

He also talked about how Time was not responsible and was literally faking it til he made it because they put him on a pedestal, and Wind was certain that every time they turned to him for advice, Time internally panicked and gave some vague response to escape it.

He supposed he'd have to get used to it, Wind was back, Ocean was back... and older now. He wasn't so much younger than Legend anymore...

He also had dirt on Time and Legend was looking forward to how things changed from here.

"Hey, Tune."

Everyone glanced at Time as Wind tilted his head.

"Yeah?"

Time threw something at him and Wind caught it. Legend's eyes widened as he saw Wind holding his Wind Waker and smile softly.

"You actually kept it," he said, holding the baton carefully. He grinned at Time. "Thanks. Want your mask back?"

"Keep it safe for me, just a little longer," Time told him.

Wind nodded firmly, a certain look in his eyes as he glanced at his side where his pouch was, as if warning it to stay put.

[doc-killjoy]

TW: d3ad loved ones, drowning, w0unds, graphic v1olence

i headcanon that Will would see visions of his siblings dying or dead from the titan war. It’d be the little bit of the power of prophecy he inherited from his dad, and he can’t control it.

He sees Michael standing near the lake or in the corner of the room, skin pale, eyes puffy, lips blue, with water dripping from his mouth.

He sees Lee standing next to the big house or among the tree line near Zeus’ fist, bloodied and bruised, head caved in from where the giant hit him.

He sees other siblings with stab wounds, burns, missing limbs and dead eyes. He dreams about them. That’s the little bit of prophecy he inherited.

[devileaterjaek]

I like to call him Larry. Dead by Daylight (PC) Join our UNSPEAKABLE community on //Discord// Support my DASTARDLY //Ko-Fi//

[useeer]

Thinking about Venture going into a protective rage when something REALLY bad happens to reader (they're not one for over reacting, so it may be a type of abduction).

I may draw it, but I imagine Venture swinging their drill towards the man's head, practically roaring. The teeth of their excavator ripping off the dudes jaw in a spray of red. They're apoplectic with hatred, and have no mercy. Their face is full of pure rage, contempt. The man, laying on the ground with his hand up, trying fruitlessly to protect his head, gets it kicked out of the way before they shove their drill into his neck. It crunches into the assailants flesh, and not even a second later. BWOOM. BWOOM. BWOOM.

They could've stopped at one, but they didn't want to. The ground is scorched, a huge crater beneath where the assailants head once was. They've got his blood all over them, their shoes, their drill. None of it matters though, because they're in a haze, breathing in deeply. Their chest rising and falling rapidly, their hair caked in dirt, blood and even flesh. When they stand up, they simply let their drill drop to the ground, staring at the corpse.

[moonlayl]

They told them to flee to the south. And when they tried to flee to the south tried, they got killed on their way there. 8 children.

They were slaughtered. This is what Israel’s doing in the name of “self defence”.

This is what y’all are justifying when you say “we’ll they warned them! Hamas needs to be destroyed! If they didn’t wanna due they should’ve evacuated!”

Evacuate to where? They get bombed if they stay out, they get bombed heading to the area Israel literally told them to go, they get bombed in that area, they get bombed by the border, they get bombed in refugee camps, and they get bombed when seeking refuge in a hospital, AND they have no way of leaving Gaza. Where are they supposed to go? And what on earth could justify THIS?

Has humanity collectively lost its damn mind? How can you NOT see this for the genocide that it is??

⚠️ graphic content

[vocaloidsongpoll]

do you like this vocaloid song?

(FLASHING IMAGES WARNING, VIOLENCE WARNING)

(composed by FLAVOR FOLLEY (Vane, Jamie Paige, and rice)

submitted by @simsparadise3 and an anonymous user! thank you both so much!!!

[brienneoftarth1989]

Forever Young

Larissa Weems x fem reader

Summary: You tried to save the school from The Hyde but it ended up killing you dying in Larissa’s arms. Larissa was beyond upset due to your relationship and organising the funeral was much harder

Warnings: Violence, blood, Major character deaths, funeral, grief, depression, suicide, overdose

Requests open

———————————

“I’ve got to go out there. I’ve got to defend this school” you told Larissa as you got ready to shift into your werewolf form. “You should be careful out there. I can’t lose you y/n. You are all the family that I have left” Larissa told you clearly scared about everything.

You walked over to Larissa as you brought her into a hug and gave her a kiss on her lips. “I promise. I love you Larissa. I will come back to you” you told her as you gave her one last kiss on the lips before running out the door and heading off to find Hyde

You immediately shifted as soon as you exited the door as you ran deep into the woods to find this huge creature. You had to stop this thing before it got any closer to the school. When you reached a clearing in the woods you stop for a second before smelling the air.

You had its scent. You started to follow after it and it wasn’t long before you realised you were making your way back towards the school. The two of you must have ran past each other at some point and not noticed each other. As soon as you made your way back you realised The Hyde was standing in the courtyard waiting for its next victims.

You couldn’t stand the thought it was just waiting for its prey to fall into its hands so you did the only thing that felt right for you at the time which was to attack. You ran straight over to the creature as you clawed at its back. The beast let out a shriek before spinning around causing you to lose your grip.

You fell onto your back and before you knew what was going on you felt its claws going straight across your chest. Pain was all you felt as you then watched it run off into the distance. It wasn’t killing for food. It was killing for sport.

You looked up to see Larissa standing on her balcony in shock at the scene she just witnessed before she ran down to see if you were alright. You had shifted back into your human form by the time she got to you and it wasn’t a pretty sight.

Blood and deep cuts covered your stomach. You weren’t going to make it and you knew it. Larissa picked you up gently and held you in her arms being careful not to cause you too much pain. Your breathing was getting weaker and you wanted to spend the rest of your life looking at the one true person you loved.

“Hey, ssh, it’s going to be ok. You’re going to be ok. We can fix this baby. Just know I love you so much. I don’t want to lose you” Larissa sobbed as she fought back her tears. You felt one of them hit your cheek as you fought back your own tears.

With the strength you had left you lifted your arm and whipped away her tears. “I love you Larissa. I will always love you even from beyond. I just wish I had more time to tell you the many ways I love you…” you said with all your strength before the world went black.

Larissa just looked down at your lifeless body as she held you in a tight grip. “No. You can’t be gone. We still had the rest of our life together. I shouldn’t have let you go out. Maybe then you would still be here” Larissa cried, holding you tighter and tighter.

Larissa sat there for hours with your cold lifeless body before someone eventually found her. The authorities were called and they eventually came to take your body away as Larissa cried not wanting to be apart from you. The next couple of weeks were going to be the hardest as she had to sort out your funeral.

Larissa didn’t leave her room for that whole period. They had to get cover for her position while she grieved your death and trying to organise everything was stressing her out but eventually a day came when she realised everything was sorted just a week before your actual funeral.

Larissa had chosen a nice dark oak coffin for your cremation as well as many wreaths that contained white and black roses which were always your favourite. The songs she had also chosen for the funeral was It’s time to go and Safe & Sound which was a fitting choice considering your love for Taylor Swift and to send you off to your funeral you would be travelling via carriage which would be driven by two white horses.

The wake was the last thing that Larissa had organised. It is to be held at Nevermore where everyone would come to gather to celebrate your life. Larissa decided that no one is to be sad during the wake. It is a time to celebrate your life and Larissa knew deep down that you would have wanted it this way.

With everything sorted now the only thing Larissa wanted to do was sleep and stay in her room until the day of your funeral and that was what Larissa did. She only left her room to eat and go to the bathroom. She was lost with you and she didn’t know how much longer she could go on without you.

When the day of your funeral did come around Larissa finally pulled herself out of bed trying to put on a brave face for the day. She jumped into the shower as she got herself ready for the day. After bathing for the first time in weeks she styled her hair and put on a light amount of makeup.

She then made her way over to the wardrobe to get the outfit that she would be wearing to the funeral. It was a beautiful long black dress and a black coat with a white rose stitched into the pocket. She got herself dressed before looking at herself in the mirror. The urge to cry was already taking over.

Larissa grabbed her large black glasses so people couldn’t see that she had been crying before placing them over her eyes. She took a deep breath and started her day. Larissa spent the day in and out of what was going on. One minute she was at home. The next minute she was at the funeral, the she was at the wake and now she is back in bed crying.

The day had gone amazingly and you had the most beautiful send off but Larissa was hurt and she didn’t want you to be gone but she had to stay strong. That night she once again cried herself to sleep forever thinking of the moment where you died in her arms.

Months went by and Larissa wasn’t getting any better. She had tried to start getting through everyday life but there was something missing and that something was you. When your ashes came back Larissa decided to have something made.

Using one of your favourite hoodies she had a custom bear made with your ashes being put inside the bear as well as in the eyes when they were made for the bear. She then sprayed the bear in your favourite perfume which you always wore which meant that it always smelt like you.

Larissa was currently laid in bed with tears covering her face as she held the bear tight to her chest. The empty bottle of pills laid next to her. “I will be with you soon my love” she whispered as she felt the effects of the overdose taking effect. Larissa awoke to see you standing there at the end of the bed. “Just close your eyes, you’ll be alright, no one can hurt you now” you told her as Larissa walked to you and took your hand.

You both looked back at her lifeless body on the bed as you both stepped into the light waiting to spend eternity together.

[puddle-nerd]

You’ll Do

Summary: You’re lucky you survived the crash but after you crawled to safety, well, the phrase was out of the pot and into the fire, right?

(Recombinant Jake Sully/Human Reader)

Story Tags: No Use of Y/N, Pre Way of Water, Slight Mention of Gore, Restraints, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Neytiri Died, I’m Sorry, Manhandling, Verbal Degradation, Knife Kink, Mention of Non-Lethal Self-Harm, Mention of Blood, Panties Uses as a Gag, Extremely Dubious Consent, R4p3/Non-Consensual, Interspecies Sex, Na’vi Biology (Avatar – Cameron), Na’vi Language (Avatar – Cameron), Vaginal Sex, Size Difference, Daddy Kink, Belly Bulge, Jake Sully Definitely Babbles During Sex, Creampie

So, this story was requested by @jakesullywhore, happy early birthday, baby girl 😘😘😘, on Tumblr back during Luna’s Kinktober Challenge (and she’s been wonderfully patient with me, I’m so, so, so sorry it took so long) and then it turned out… uh… quite a bit longer than I was originally expecting (insert sheepish shuffling here) in amongst several things happening all at once IRL so if you want to skip to the smut, and you’re over the age of eighteen, scroll down to the

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.* Beginning of 18+ / NSFW Scene *.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*

Na’vi Translation: Hì’i — small, little (size) Mawey – calm Olo’eyktan — clan leader (generally gender-neutral) Sevin — pretty (mainly for female(s)) Tawtute — human | Sky Person Toruk Makto — rider of last shadow | currently, Jake Sully

AO3 Link

You looked up as your supervisor groaned in protest as the supply train rumbled down the freshly built tracks, rocking with its momentum slowly but surely back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. Your gaze didn’t falter from him as he closed his eyes, trying to center himself so he didn’t vomit while his motion sickness made itself known. “Ya good, sir?” you asked over the hum of the engine and the sound of the wheels turning, your words making your mask fog up briefly. The compartment was atmospherically converted to oxygen but with the increase of raids by the one known as Toruk Makto and his Na’vi followers, it was better to be safe and have your mask on, just in case. “You’re really pale,” you added.

Actually, he looked kinda green and you were beginning to think he was going to puke any second now.

Your supervisor looked up at you from where he sat across the way and gave a weak smile from behind the plexiglass of his mask, sweat beading up visibly upon his forehead. You’d think he’d have been used to the way a train rocked, having claimed to be from New York back on Earth, but who were you to judge? You all had come out here for a chance at a better life and there really wasn’t anything back on your home planet for you, personally, so when they opened up opportunities for grunt work (i.e. luckily you were a high value information system tech), they let you grab a space on the next flight out to Pandora. Only to find yourself in a middle of a war zone and having to take care of people who hadn’t been informed of what they were getting into. You hadn’t really known either, but that was beside the point. You reached beneath your seat and leaned forward to hand him a vomit sack. Suddenly, the illumination turned a reddish hue from a warm white, a skreiching alarm blaring over the speakers, a voice shouting, “Missiles inbound! Port side! Brace for impact! Brace f–”

Then the world went topsy turvy as the train de-railed.

What happened next came to you in spurts. The screech of metal on metal. The blur of the red warning lights amongst the darkness of the cabin with the world turning itself upon its head mimicking a high-speed roller-coaster back on Earth. The pain of smacking your masked face into the cushion of your full-body harness. The reek of liquid iron and the stench of something burning, stinging your nose. The sound of high-pitched screams ripped from several throats. The taste of copper upon your tongue. Pain radiating throughout your body from the top of your head to the tips of your booted toes.

Then nothing.

No sight, no sound, no smell, no touch, no taste…

Was it seconds later when you slowly regained consciousness?

Minutes?

Hours?

Your skull felt heavy and full of cotton as you very slowly lifted your chin, your eyelids blinking slowly as you took in the scene now, acutely aware of the ringing in your ears muffling everything else out. Shock rippled through you, icy and paralyzing, as you stared uncomprehendingly at the wreckage that had once been the train car you had been sitting in. Were still sitting in. Were you sitting? Your head ached.

Fear gripped you, your stomach turning as you surveyed the shattered glass, the debris of metal, splashes of dark liquid that smelled like the sharp tang of fuel and blood, and chunks of unidentifiable meat. You blinked slowly but the throbbing in your head refused to comprehend what you were gazing at – or maybe it was the shock of it all – and so you looked down at your own body. The harness was pulled tight around your chest and hips and your leg looked like it was bent at a funny angle for a moment, until you realized… it wasn’t your leg. Your hands trembled with a surge of adrenaline as you struggled to press the release clasps. Once you managed to liberate yourself from the strangling body-belt, you fell forward and stumbled to your feet, wobbling forward over questionable piles of… things you refused to look too closely at to get towards where you could see the light of day peeking out from where the door had crumpled in like tin, your limbs feeling like they were weighed down with lead blocks but you managed to slide yourself out, your gaze hazy and your mind slow as a turtle.

Pieces of shattered glass twinkled menacingly from the smoldering dirt in the sunlight amongst pieces of metal that should have been on the train.

Something huge suddenly swooped over your head and you lurched to the side as you saw a couple of colorful Mountain Banshees for the first time ever. You stared at them as they landed further down the wreckage and then noticed several very large bodies crawling over the train and the upturned earth.

You blinked and struggled to focus as you saw one of them, huge and blue, turn towards you, painted with black and green paint stripes all over his face and body beneath his battle band and very human-style tactical vest. You watched him incline his head before his lips drew back and he hissed in your direction and a new wave of adrenaline flooded your body.

You were going to die.

You didn’t think.

You just turned and ran.

You weren’t fast enough, though, and a sharp pain to the back of your head had you blacking out.

𖥸 · ─────── · 𖥸 · ─────── · 𖥸

You could hear them moving around you as you took stock of your situation, your eyes currently shut as you regained your other senses. There were at least two beings hissing at each other in a foreign language you recognized as the Na’vi tongue that you had no hope of understanding. The air smelled stale and recycled while you could taste a touch of iron on the back of your tongue. Your wrists were tied to the unforgiving metal table you were laying on, the cold seeped into your skin.

Your bare skin.

You sucked in a sharp breath at the realization that you were stripped almost fully naked and your eyes shot open. You tried to sit up only to jerk backwards, your wrists pulling tightly from where they were secured above your head. Your ankles were restrained as well.

“Oh, good, the sevin hì’itawtute is awake.”

You twitched, shrinking in on yourself as far as you could when you laid your gaze on two big blue striped beings watching you with interested golden eyes.

One was more serious, more intense, with his beaded braids hanging about his rounded cheeks and bordering his red ornate necklace. His broad shoulders, built chest, and thick arms looked more human-like except for the generous smattering of bioluminescent freckles adorning his striped sapphire skin. His torso tapered down into a slim waist, a leather band encircling just beneath his pecs. A light purple loincloth hung from a thin band over the front of his pelvis, a dagger longer than your forearm gracing his left hip. The other Na’vi was smirking much more mischievously at you, his heated golden eyes scanning your body with a hunger that made you shiver. His own braids, unadorned except for two hanging in front, were more towards the top of his head, the right side of his skull shaved. The second male was also so much leaner and gangly than the first, all long limbs with an equally lengthy torso and slutty, little waist though he was easily a couple of inches taller with less freckles that you could see. His dagger, hanging from his left lip, was a littler shorter as well above his simple green loincloth. They were both quite handsome in their unique ways.

“Go get Dad,” the broader male hissed in English.

You blinked.

Brothers?

The leaner male rolled his eyes with a sigh and turned on his heel and you felt your eyes widen as a blush stained your cheeks seeing that his loincloth left his firm backside on display. You glanced away only to see the remaining male raise a brow at you with a knowing look in his golden gaze. You flushed further and looked away, turning you eyes up towards the restraints holding your arms and then down to your ankles allowing you to see you still wore your sports bra and your thin, cotton panties.

The whoosh of the door opening again drew your attention and you choked.

While the two males were handsome, this third Na’vi – their father – made them pale in comparison. His long black hair was styled into thick, unadorned dreads and pushed back from his black and green streaked face. A woven band crossed over his forehead with something shimmering over his burning golden eyes was adorned with small, sharp bones that were probably as long as your hand from base to the tip of your middle finger. A wide, flat nose tipped in pink flared as he scented you, his thin lips pressing together. A comm unit acted as a choker as it settled at the base of his throat, just above a second necklace with five small stones. His shoulders were wide beneath his tactical vest, his chest was… beefy to say the least, and his biceps were near double the size of your head. His built torso tapered down into a trim waist cushioned lightly with an ever so slight, soft and inviting plushness, his brown loincloth embroidered with specialty woven knots around the hem and over the belt clinging to his hips. From mid-thigh to just above his ankles, dark brown leggings clung to his strong legs in a most sinful way that had you swallowing around a growing lump in your throat.

“Out,” the adult male hissed, his gaze not leaving you. He added something in the Na’vi language you had no hope of understanding.

The serious teen male nodded quietly and grabbed his brother by the back of the neck, pulling the mischievous-looking one roughly out of the… you supposed it was originally a shack laboratory that had been retrofitted to become your jailcell, hence why you could breathe without your mask.

You swallowed, watching the adult Na’vi male look over your nearly naked form once more.

“Do you know who I am?” he asked, reaching down and unbuckling his tactical vest slowly, revealing a battle band in red and brown nestled just under his thick pectoral muscles, tossing the vest over to the side once he was freed. You shook your head because you weren’t sure. “You probably have heard of me. I’m known as Toruk Makto, more commonly called Jake Sully.”

You felt the blood drain from your face.

This was THE Jake Sully?

Oh, fuck… No wonder General Ardmore was determined to have LOTS of man and firepower because every inch of this Na’vi gave of vibes that screamed ‘lethal’.

You swallowed again and nodded, letting him know you now knew who he was. Your eyes flicked over every single inch of him once more and you shivered again at seeing that his whole body was defined muscle that human men wished they could have. And you weren’t entirely sure if it was because of the cold of the table, the chill of the air, or the fact that he was seriously fucking hot but your whole body trembled. Not, that that meant anything. God, you hoped his ability to smell things was seriously overstated. “I’m telling you this so that you understand what’s about to happen to you.”

You wetted your lips with your tongue and whispered hoarsely, “You’re going to torture me for information?”

Golden eyes – darkened with rage – flicked your way and a slow smirk that promised things pulled at his thin lips, revealing sharp fangs that had your heart doubling in speed. He replied, “Something like that.” He removed the leather strap from around his middle and tossed it over to where the vest was now. “I know it’s not entirely your fault, you’re just a drop in the bucket of problems known as the human race trying to destroy Pandora,” he removed his headpiece and added it to the growing pile, “but I need to know who’s in charge and what your superiors are planning.” His tomahawk from the small of his back was the fourth thing he removed from his body, though this he placed on the table by your hip, chuckling meanly when you attempted to shift away from the sharp edges of the weapon.

“I’m just a lowly IT,” you admitted, fear making you jittery upon the table. “General Ardmore doesn’t even know my name.”

Jake leered at you nastily, unsheathing his front dagger and slamming it down by your head with a startling SLAM. You recoiled sharply, twisting your head away from him and squeezing your eyes shut as your heart beat vibrated within your chest. “That’s alright,” Jake hissed, bending down and breathing hotly into your ear. “I’m sure I can make use of you… somehow.” You trembled as he pulled back and circled your body on the table. “You know, up until about a year ago, I was happy,” he told you conversationally, trailing his callus roughened fingers over the softness of your body, causing you to flinch again and tremble. “Y’know, I was the Olo’eyktan, wha’chu call the clan leader.” He pinched at your fleshy hip, the one on the other side from where he had left his weapon, chuckling as you baulked away from his touch. “I was respected by The People,” he continued, moving towards your feet and you hoped to god he wouldn’t tickle your soles, “all throughout the vast jungles of Pandora. I had a wife and four beautiful children. Had.”

Oh… shit…

You met his gaze and now understood the fury in his golden depths.

Jake told you, voice flat and ice cold, “My wife, my mate, my better half, my Neytiri te Tskaha Mo’at’ite died today because all of you stupid humans had to come the fuck back here where you weren’t wanted.”

You wanted to tell him that it wasn’t your fault. You hadn’t killed her. You hadn’t killed anyone. But you could see the absolute wrath and the soul-shattering hatered burning deeply from within the golden depths of his eyes. You understood from just looking at him that he wouldn’t really listen to any of your words or, even if he did hear what you said to him, he wouldn’t actually care about them. Either way, he was about to take it out on you in one way or another.

“So… what do you have to say about that?” Jake demanded.

You gulped and murmured, “I’m sorry for your loss.”

Jake’s ears flicked back and he bared his teeth, shaking his head as his tail – he had a fucking tail! – lashed back and forth in agitation. “Y-you’re sorry? You’re sorry?! How’s that – how is that going to bring back my wife!?”

“It’s not! It’s – it’s not,” you yelped, flinching away from the fists he pounded down onto the metal table between your secured ankles as best you could, though it wasn’t much. You stuttered, tripping over your words, “But I’m sorry! I’m sorry, Sully! I – I swear, I swear, I swear I had n-nothing to do with it! I – I’ve never killed any – anyone, I swear. I’m just a, uh, just a computer jockey!”

His nose flared as he scented you again and a wide, dark smirk adorned his features as a switch seemed to flip and an idea came to him.

.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·. Beginning of 18+ / NSFW Scene .·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.

“Well, if you’re not high enough up the chain and have no useful information to give me, guess I’m gonna have to find a different use for ya,” Jake announced and reached down. The Na’vi male pressed a lever on the table and the table flipped nearly vertical to about a 75-degree angle, causing you to yelp in surprise as you were suddenly jerked upright, the tomahawk and the dagger sliding – luckily – harmlessly down to hit the floor with a loud double ‘CLANG’. He chuckled meanly down at you, pressing something else to lock you into place.

You gulped, begging to know as your heart pounded rapidly in your chest, “What are you going to do to me?”

The painted male just smirked, flashing his fangs.

Kneeling down between your legs, your whole body shivered of the sight of Jake exchanging your ankle restraints for his large hands, his grip strong and unyielding giving you no chance to kick him in his stupidly handsome face. You felt your belly twist itself into knots as a warm bubble of dread – yes, it was definitely dread and nothing else – began to build inside of you as an idea of how he was going to “make use of you” formed in the back of your mind.

Jake manipulated your legs apart and leaned in, pressing his flat, pink nose against the front of your panties, flaring as he sucked in a deep breath with a chuckle. “Well, …look at that. You’re liking this, little girl,” Jake hummed, rubbing his nose over the material separating him from your femininity. “If I strip you, how wet will I find you, you stupid fucking slut?” You could hear the grin in his voice as he added, “Guess I’ll find out in a second. Don’t move.” Letting go of one of your legs after placing it over his shoulder and nipping at it in warning to not kick him or anything, he grabbed his dagger from the floor and brought it up to your crotch. You whimpered, trying not to squirm as the sharp edge of his weapon was drawn carefully up the silken skin of your inner thighs, leaving little red welts but not actually splitting the skin, getting closer and closer to your cunt. You recoiled slightly. “Don’t. Fucking. Move,” Jake reiterated with a rumbling growl, ears and tail both flicking in irritation.

“Please don’t hurt me,” you whimpered, flinching when he tucked the sharp edge under the hem of your panties and tore it beyond repair. “Please…”

Jake smirked as he cut away your panties completely, muttering up towards you, “You’re gonna be saying that for a different reason in a little bit, little girl.” You froze, watching as he tossed the scraps of fabric away and raised his knife one more time, lifting it to the material of your sports bra and hooking it beneath the front hem. The material gave away just as easily as your panties had, ripping like paper up the middle, revealing your tits to his gaze before methodically cutting the shoulder straps of what used to be your chest covering. “Huh, you are actually pretty, aren’cha?” Jake muttered, more to himself than to you as he tossed the now useless fabric away and set his dagger back down onto the ground. His gaze drifted down to your pussy and he smirked. “Oh yeah, you are such a dirty little slut, aren’t ya?” Jake chuckled, finally placing your other leg over his shoulder and inspecting you. “Gonna be a tight fit but now… I can smell you even better, all sweet and musky. Wonder if you taste just as sweet?”

He leaned forward, cupping your upper thighs with his blue hands, and pressed his nose against your center, breathing deep.

“Oh fuck,” you whined, cringing as much as you could away from his touch. “Oh, please don’t do this. I – I don’t want this, Sully. Please.”

You didn’t know who you were trying to convince more.

Jake or yourself.

He ignored your words and opened his mouth, sticking out his tongue and sliding it up the seam of your cunt from the bottom to your clit. You yelped, jerking away from him again at the feel of what you might describe as sandpaper touched your most intimate of parts. It wasn’t… unpleasant… but it was, definitely, strange. He tightened his grip on your legs and did it again, collecting your wetness upon his tongue. And then again. And again. You chewed on your lower lip, trying not to make any further noises or to move, lest he got angry or thinking you were enjoying this.

‘You weren’t enjoying this. You weren’t. You weren’t. You weren’t,’ you chanted to yourself.

“You can try to be quiet all you want, but I’ll get’cha to sing,” the Na’vi male told you confidently, smirk firmly in place on his azure skin. “Singing like an ol’ opera singer.” With that, he leaned in and began his attack on your pussy, dipping his tongue inside your cunt and rubbing his nose against your clit, determination pouring off of him to make you enjoy yourself, whether you liked it or not. The control this man had over his tongue made you bloody your lower lip from biting down so hard on it, just as equally resolute to not give in. No matter how good it felt. But Jake was a man on a mission, practically shoving his face against your pussy and feasting like you were going to be his last meal.

You felt the pleasure undeniably building, a choked whine building in the back of your throat.

Jake lifted his gaze and pulled back, seeing the blood trickling down your chin from where your teeth had dug too deeply. “Ah, fuck, don’t do that,” he grumbled and looked around swiftly. Spotting the remains of your bra and underwear, he grabbed your ex-chest covering and balled it up, wiping away the red liquid from your skin roughly, ignoring your mewl of pain. Now that your underwear was even more ruined, he tossed the sports bra back down and grabbed your panties, balling them up and shoving them into your mouth. “There now, no biting yourself while I enjoy my snack, you ungrateful brat,” he snarked picking up right where he left off and devouring your cunt like he was starving, humming as he dug his tongue deeper into your passage than you ever got with your own fingers. And his tongue was thick enough to almost resemble the girth of the silicon dildo you’d smuggled in the luggage you’d been allowed to bring with you from Earth.

You could no longer hold back the whimpers, your makeshift gag muffling your noise only somewhat.

“Yeah, that’s it, you needy little whore,” Jake chuckled against your clit before lapping at it greedily. “Let those noises out. Let me know what a filthy little slut you are for the first male Na’vi that gives you attention.” He laughed a little more to himself and then leaned in sucking on your hard nub as he slipped two broad fingers into your wet heat, curling them just so that had your eyes crossing as you jerked against your restraints and dug your heels into his shoulders while also trying to rut your hips up into his mouth and hand. “That’s it, bitch. I can feel you tightening. You’re getting close, aren’cha? Gonna cum with your enemy finger fucking you like a dirty, little slut?” Your inner walls clenched greedily around his digits and then he found a spot deep inside of you.

Your climax took you by surprise, running you over like a bus or a train…

‘Oh, too soon,’ you thought just before the euphoria overtook your senses.

You jerked in your restraints, screaming through the gag as you unraveled, your whole-body trembling with bliss.

“Fuck, yeah, look at you,” Jake sneered as he sat back on his heels, still curling his fingers inside of you as he rubbed circles over your clit to draw out your orgasm. “What a fucking little whore. Look how much you came for me.”

You sagged in your restraints, panting heavily and continuing to tremble, eyes widening when you saw how much his loincloth had tented.

The Na’vi male pushed himself to his feet and began to circle you, casually licking his fingers and palm clean of your slick while his tail flicked behind his toned, bare backside. You looked up at him as he came back around and stood in front of you, gazing at you expectantly but your throat didn’t want to work, didn’t want to form words. Especially with that monster of his pressing against the inside of his loincloth. So, you didn’t bother to try. Instead, Jake spoke up for you. “Got nothing to say?” the Na’vi demanded. You breathed out heavily through your nose and shook your head slowly. He snorted and lowered his gaze to watch the remnants of your orgasm trickling down your leg. He gripped himself, muttering, “You do taste as sweet as you smell, pretty, little slut. Can’t wait to feel you wrapped around me.”

In any other situation, you might have been flattered.

Jake moved forward and towered over you, your head barely coming up to his sternum as you hung from the upright table. He smirked and reached down to untie his loincloth. “Think it’s gonna fit in your tight, little pussy, slut? You were squeezing my fingers all nice and snug,” he commented, letting the cloth drop, “I’m wondering if I’m gonna fit inside of you.” You whined, seeing the thick human-like cock spring upwards, firm and full. Jake’s dark blue shaft was decorated with pretty stripes of a lighter shade and bioluminescent white freckles scattered amongst ridges and nubs all over the length of him. What made you clench though, besides the sheer size of him, was that his light blue foreskin was pulling back from the pink tip of his cock to reveal that his slit was beginning to bead with pearlescent precum tinged silvery blue.

“Oh, fuck…” you whimpered, quietly through your makeshift gag, no longer able to deny you were enjoying this.

Whether you liked it or not.

The Na’vi male chuckled and stroked himself a couple of times. “Yeah, thought you’d like this,” he leered down at you with a smirk. Letting himself go, his cock bobbed but continued sticking straight out from his pelvis. Jake stepped closer and grabbed your wet thighs, lifting you up and settling himself between your legs, his shaft hot and hard against the seam of your center so you could feel the texture only a Na’vi penis had; you whimpered, trembling in his grasp, pleasure skittering through your nerve endings. “I can feel how slick you are, you filthy little whore,” Jake commented, grunting as he rutted against you, coating himself in your natural lubricant. “Getting me all nice and wet. Gonna have to go slow, though. Don’t want to tear you.” You whimpered as he continued to lift your hips up and back, dragging your dripping cunt up the length of his cock, teasing you with his firm shaft but not yet putting it in.

You bit down on your gag and jerked in his grip, seeking more stimulation.

“Look at you, you needy little thing,” Jake chuckled, watching you with a derisive jeer. “Yeah, you need it, don’cha? Okay, here we go, then.” Carefully, Jake took his shaft and lined it up with your entrance, slowly easing his thick mushroom head into your channel. You whined as he began to push himself further inside, the stretch burning your inner muscles slightly and forcing all of the air out of your lungs. “Mawey, baby. Mawey. Daddy’s got’chu.” The Na’vi male adjusted your thighs around his lean waist and reached down between you, circling your clit as he continued sinking himself further into you, the inescapable pressure and the incredible feeling of absolute fullness making you let out a whine through the fabric in your mouth. Your inner walls keep tightening and loosening, as if your center didn’t know whether to allow Jake’s girth further inside or to try to push him back out of your body. “Fuck, you’re so tight,” Jake groaned through gritted teeth. “Le’me in, little girl. It’ll feel so good. I promise.”

You whined, his thumb still circling your clit as he finally, finally bottomed out.

Jake couldn’t quite fit his entire cock into your pussy, the tip of him pressed against your cervix in a way you weren’t entirely sure was painful or pleasurable. Either way, you felt so utterly stuffed you could barely breathe, breaths shuddering in and out of your nose in short bursts. The hand gripping your thigh was definitely going to leave bruises later as he reveled in the feel of your center stretched around him to your utter limit, his free hand still rubbing circles over your hard, little bud.

“Fuck, baby,” the Na’vi male groaned, shifting his hips to test how you felt now that you had started to adjust to his intrusion. “Tightest pussy Daddy’s ever had. Fuuuck, yer strangling my cock.” The noise that escaped your throat barely sounded human in pitch, more like it was an unintelligible fusion of a whine and a groan, muffled by the panties still in your mouth. He chuckled and added, “Pretty sure you were made for this. Huh? You were made to be my little cock slut, baby, right? Daddy’s little whore.” You whimpered and nodded slowly, tears leaking from the corners of your eyes as the pleasure threatened to overwhelm you again. “Yeah, I thought so.” Then he sucked in a sharp breath and whistled. “Fuck, yeah, I can see myself in your belly.”

You looked down to see your stomach slightly distended to accommodate the total girth of his length and you released a wail.

“Isn’t that a sight,” Jake laughed quietly, hissings as you subsequently clenched internally. “Okay, okay, ya greedy little thing. Daddy’s gonna start moving now, little girl. Tell me if it hurts.” You made a muffled noise of complaint and tried to spit out the panties still forcing your jaw wide. “Ah, forgot about that,” the Na’vi male chuckled to himself and finally pulled the cloth out of your mouth, tossing them off to the side. “That better, little girl?”

“Yes,” you moaned quietly, moving your jaw to relieve the slight ache. “Oh, fuck, Sully. Feel so full.”

The male chuckled, “Yeah. Bet you do.”

Jake pulled out of your center a little before rolling his hips slowly back inside of you, glancing between your face and your belly bulge as you whined, feeling the friction of his textured shaft to cause the most exquisite of pleasure to tease your nerve endings, his heavy testicles bouncing off of your taint with each move of his hips. He slowly began to increase his pace, the sound of his thrusts squelching wetly through the air as he pounded his length deeply within you with the power and the consistency of a machine, causing that coil to tighten once more inside of you.

Without the gag hindering you now, you whined aloud, “Huh, fuck. Oh god.”

“Yeah, my little slut likes this,” Jake snarled, quickening his tempo further and growling low in his throat as your center tightened further around him. “Fuck, little girl, gonna cum for Daddy like a good whore? Gonna gush all over me when you climax? Bet you will, you greedy little cock slut. I want to see how your belly bulges further when I finish deep inside of you.” You whined nonsensically as his thrusts got sloppy as he sped up even further, the head of his cock pressing a spot that made your toes start to curl. “Oh, fuck, baby. I can feel you getting close. You’re even tighter around me. You ready, baby? Daddy’s gonna fill you up.”

You wanted to feel the pleasure but you didn’t want it.

Not like this at least.

The Na’vi male’s breathing increased as his rhythm stuttered further, slamming wetly into your depths even more loudly, his balls now smacking against your taint with each shove of his cock, pushing inside of your pussy even deeper until he shoved himself in firmly one last time, burying himself in to the hilt and –

“Ohhh, fuck, fuck, fuuuck, yeah baby! Cumming. Cumming!”

If your first orgasm had been like getting hit by a bus, your second one was more like getting swept away by a tsunami, the pleasure-pain of Jake’s cock being wedged just beneath your cervix and pressing in from behind your bellybutton caused you to release a nonsensical throat-aching scream as well as you beginning to weep in humiliation from the heat overtaking your senses making you feel like you had peed yourself as the lush flow of your and Jake’s combined finish both bulged your stomach and dribbled steadily down your buttocks while every muscle within you spasmed almost violently and your toes curled painfully.

“Fuck, my little slut is a gusher,” Jake chuckled, groaning as he trembled in pleasure. “Yeah, I think I’m gonna keep you. You’ll do just nicely.”

𖥸 · ─────── · 𖥸 · ─────── · 𖥸

Originally Posted: 24 November 2023 Word Count: 5,500

[ayyy-imma-ninja]

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

Phobos paused in his struggle with Sun as he heard the noise and began to turn to see what it could’ve been when for a split second all he could see was brown and red before something smacked into the side of his face, and the sound rang out again. The imp shrieked and rolled off of Sun, clutching his face and fiercely rubbing the pain away. He and his twin groaned as they blinked away stars from their vision. 

Sun and Moon’s eyes widened and followed the projectile back from where it came, both astonished to see Lunar catch his staff at its center. What was he still doing here?!

“Hey, Ditzo and Bozo!”

The twin imps hissed with glaring eyes as they looked to the helper fairy who returned a glare of his own. He pointed the head of his staff towards them, the red gem glinting and casting an ominous shadow across his face. 

“Paws off.”

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

CHAPTER 5 FOR "TERROR COMES IN TWOS" IS NOW READY!

'There is a fight still to be had.'

Feedback appreciated! (preferably on AO3 ;w;)

[doctordiscord123]

Whumptober 2024: "I Warned You"

Illinois has a situation, and Dark deals with it in the way he knows best.

For @whumptober, @whumptober-archive

Commission Info | Buy me a ko-fi

+++++

It was Illinois who had come to Dark a few days ago with a…situation. His poor lover had just gotten back from a trip to East Africa, and he’d come back with a few…problems. A stalker, specifically, who’d taken to leaving notes in the middle of the night at the manor door, when Dark was asleep and unable to confront a stranger on the property. Illinois tried to play it off, but Dark could see it was beginning to get to him.

The letters were…disturbing, to say the least. Detailing how beautiful Illinois looked as slept, how pretty his eyes were, how gorgeous he looked when he smiled. The letters also detailed the things they’d do to Illinois when they had him. And they wrote when, not if.

Keeping his pretty eyes in a jar, preserved forever.

Expressing a desire to watch him bleed, how beautiful he’d look.

Collecting his tears in a vial, again to preserve.

Cutting off a finger as a keepsake, to keep the bones on a necklace.

The list went on. And on. And on.

Needless to say, Dark was getting antsy.

Read the rest on Ao3!

[goldenavenger02]

and i will try (to fix you)

"So, what are you asking, exactly?"

"You taught me everything I know about waterbending, not to mention you're the strongest waterbender I know," Aang explained, her cheeks filling with a flush as he reached over to tuck a stray hair behind her ear before asking, "so, will you teach me how to heal?"

OR: 5 times Aang tried to heal someone with waterbending and 1 time he did.

(This is so long only because I am neurodivergent and don't know when to stop yapping about random lore things, like water healing and yet I still get ages wrong in the fic. I'm not fixing it, Lin is now older then Tenzin and that just has to be okay with everybody because I am not changing it.

This is also my birthday fic to myself! My birthday isn't until Wednesday, but I will be starting my summer job then which will make me 90% offline and I will not have time to respond to comments like I usually do.

With that, I hope you all enjoy this very, VERY, long fic and now, on with the story!)

1. The Question

"Hey, you okay?" Katara asked softly, breaking Aang out of his thoughts as he sat on the balcony of the high-end inn that King Kuei insisted on putting the three of them in while they were in Ba Sing Se for the next week, his legs dangling in the air.

Aang didn't know how to answer that; the war had just ended a month ago but his gut was still tight with guilt even though he had ended things as peacefully as possible.

"I've been meaning to ask you something," he finally spoke, resulting in her taking a few steps forward and resting her hand on his shoulder; he couldn't deny how gorgeous she looked even in the dim light of the setting sun with the last rays shining in her ocean-blue eyes.

"You can ask me anything."

"Toph and Zuko want to continue teaching me earth and fire bending," he looked down at his hands and the intricate blue arrows marking the backs of them, "and I know that no matter how hard I try, even the most peaceful option can still ruin lives but if there's something I can do to make up for it-"

"Ozai needed to go down," Katara cut him off, moving her hand off of his shoulder and rubbing soft circles on his upper back, "you stopped him without killing him, which is a lot braver than what the rest of us would have done."

"I know, but… there are people in the Fire Nation, in the Earth Kingdom and the water tribes that have lost family and friends in this war because I wasn't here to stop them, and even after I got out of the ice, people still died."

He watched as her fingers trailed off to the pendant of her necklace for a few moments, like it always did when she was reminded of her mother, before her gaze returned to him.

"So, what are you asking, exactly?"

"You taught me everything I know about waterbending, not to mention you're the strongest waterbender I know," Aang explained, her cheeks filling with a flush as he reached over to tuck a stray hair behind her ear before asking, "so, will you teach me how to heal?"

"I didn't spend as much time with Yagoda as I should have to teach anyone and most of what I know is self-taught," Katara explained after a beat before raising her eyebrow, "you're sure that you want me to teach you?"

"You brought me back to life," Aang pointed out, trying not to think about the starburst of a scar on his back, "you also saved Zuko's life. I don't know about you, but that sounds at the very least like someone who can teach me the basics."

"Can I think about it? I just…" she let out a breath of air, finally taking her hand off of his back and folding her elbows over the balcony railing before resting her head on them, "it's not that I don't want to teach you, but I don't want anyone to start seeing me differently."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't want to just be seen as a healer, and I know that you would never see me that way, but…"

"You're worried about what others might think," Aang filled in the blank and watched as she nodded against her folded arms, "I understand. I don't want to pressure you, I just…it's stupid."

"No it's not," she reached one of her hands towards him and squeezed it in hers, the pressure reassuring him that the guilt tightening around his heart wasn't unfounded, "if you have to damage something, you want to be able to help fix it. That's not stupid, Aang."

"It's not?"

"No." She stood up straight for a moment, to press a kiss to his cheek, before resting again on her elbows with their hands firmly clasped around each other's until long after the sun went down and their eyes had the reflections of stars in them.

Despite all of the feelings swirling around Aang, the pure joy won out as Katara continued to squeeze his hand and the moon started to softly illuminate the balcony; at the end of the day, they had won the war, their closest friends were all alive and thriving in the beginnings of rebuilding.

And above it all, he had won Katara's heart and she had won his.

So when he felt the first of what would have evolved into many yawns if he continued to stand on the balcony build up, he maneuvered his hand out of hers, scooched over and planted his feet firmly on the ground, speaking as he turned toward the door.

"We should get some sleep."

"You're right, but Aang?"

"Yes?" He turned back around to see her grasping onto her upper arm as she spoke.

"I'll teach you, how to heal."

If it had been any other time of day, he would have thanked her over and over with uncontrollable excitement, but he was exhausted so he settled for pulling her into a hug, "thank you, Katara."

"You're welcome," she insisted, squeezing tightly for a moment before he pulled away to see a mischievous glint in her eyes, "and I know who you can practice on."

…

"Katara? You're sure about this?" Sokka's voice wavering hit Aang with a pang of doubt even as he overexplained his thought process, "not that I don't trust you or anything, of course I trust you, but my leg is almost back to a hundred percent and-"

"If it goes wrong, then I'll take over," Katara cut off his ramblings as she gathered her supplies from the other side of the room, "but unlike Zuko, you'll actually tell Aang and I if something feels off."

"Yeah, I guess I have him beat there," Sokka shrugged as he sat down in the wooden chair, propping his left leg on the ottoman, "have you heard anything about how he's doing?"

"As far as I know, he's back to usual activity."

"So he gets to go back to normal a month after getting his insides fried like fire flakes, but I still have to use a crutch when I'm nearly better?"

"Mai and the royal physician are keeping a very close eye on him and will alert me at the first sign of things going south, but he insisted on getting to work on repairing the Fire Nation," Katara elaborated, her hands expertly guiding the blade that was removing the old bandages around his leg, "also, he wasn't the one who refused to let me look at his injuries for five days."

That comment made Sokka go quiet, no longer a distraction to Aang's shaking hands as he knelt down beside Katara with full access to the injured limb decorated in the final stages of healing bruises.

"I'm not gonna hurt him if I do this wrong, right?"

"No," Katara insisted while bending the water out of her water-skin and holding it in between her palms, "the worst you could do is nothing, and like I said, Sokka will tell us if something feels wrong. Won't you, Sokka?"

"Yep."

"Okay."

"Are you ready?"

Aang nodded, and bent the small current out of her palms, holding it in between his own as he awaited her instructions.

"Healing wounds with water, it uses the water as a catalyst to redirect the energy paths in the body; by focusing more energy on the wounded area, it accelerates the healing process. That's why Sokka is actually able to put some of his weight on his leg instead of all on the crutch."

Aang nodded, absorbing her words as he bent the water over one of the yellowish-green bruises on Sokka's lower leg, his hands hovering over it as his tongue slipped out with concentration.

"Can you feel the energy in the bruises, how it's all tensed up under the skin?"

Aang shook his head, allowing Katara to gently guide his arms upwards toward Sokka's thigh, "what about now? The energy in his upper leg is loose and flowing because it was mostly uninjured, but…" she trailed off, guiding his palms back down towards the bruising, "because his leg was broken here, it's tighter and at a near stand-still."

Aang furrowed his brow; he had bent energy just last month when he had removed Ozai's bending, but all he could feel under his palms were the ends of the hair on Sokka's legs being pulled toward him in the water.

"I-I'm sorry, I can't feel anything." He finally stuttered as he slumped backwards and pulled his knees to his chest, allowing Katara to take the water from his palms and focus on the bruising.

"Yagoda said it can take months to learn how to feel the energy inside someone else's body, that it can be subtle if the wound isn't as severe."

"Seriously, Aang," Sokka spoke up, clearly trying his best to add to the reassurance that his sister was giving him, "my leg is almost completely healed. You'll get it with a fresher wound, I know it."

Aang still couldn't help but sigh, rest his head on his bent knees and wrap his arms around them while Katara worked miracles like it was the easiest thing in the world.

2. A Second Chance

The trip to Ba Sing Se ended up ending three days earlier than expected when a messenger hawk from the Fire Nation flew into Katara's window at the inn with a loud call that had Aang rubbing his eyes in confusion next door.

It took ten minutes for her to open his bedroom door, dressed for the day as she announced while adjusting her water-skin, "we need to get to the Fire Nation."

Katara had always been the one who kept Aang and Sokka on track throughout their travels and always remained serious when the situation required it, so he knew it was bad the moment her eyes met his and after pulling on his own clothes, went straight to Appa to get him ready for the trip.

By the time he had the saddle and reins tightened and his luggage in the saddle, Katara walked over with a determined stride, throwing her bag into the saddle with ease.

"Sokka is staying to finish the last of the discussions with King Kuei and Suki is on her way here to help out." Katara explained as she climbed into the saddle, her face set with a fixated worry that Aang knew all too well.

He didn't hesitate to lift himself onto Appa, flicking the reins with a "yip yip" and waiting until they had passed over the lower ring of Ba Sing Se before finding it in himself to ask, "it's Zuko, isn't it?"

"Yeah, it is," Katara's strained voice filled his gut with a nauseating worry, "you'll get to practice healing him after all."

That statement only filled Aang with even more dread as they streamlined towards Capitol City.

…

"Are you still having trouble breathing?"

"The royal physician really shouldn't have scared Tao and Mai like that, or you two-"

"Zuko, that is not what I asked," her snappy tone not only had Aang sitting straight up in the chair, but also stunned the newly crowned Fire Lord into silence, "you're lucky Tao sent for me and that I know how to redirect excess energy in the body."

"Wait, you do?" Aang spoke up, getting a quick smile from Katara as she continued to hold the water just above the scar tissue that matched his own to a T.

"It's part of healing; you can direct more energy to a injure to heal it, but an excess of tense, jumbled up energy can cause more harm than good so you may need to pull some away," she explained before making eye contact with Zuko who was raising a confused eyebrow, "I'm teaching him."

Aang stood up to get a closer look; they had arrived to a tense chaos that had resulted in Katara tell him to stay back while she took care of the pressing issue of Zuko struggling to breathe along with the muscle spasms, but now that the dust had settled, she silently took a step to the side so he could observe.

Despite happening a month ago and the healing that Katara had provided multiple times a day for the first week after it had happened, the lightning scar was still jagged and an angry red that started at the bottom of Zuko's chest, traveled up into his right shoulder before snaking around to his back.

It was all too reminiscent of blinking up at Katara before awakening weeks later with bandages covering a good chunk of his body and dark hair covering the top of his skull in a way that made his stomach churn.

"Alright, Aang," Katara's voice brought him back to reality, reminding him that he was not in the catacombs of Ba Sing Se, as she hovered a small stream of water in between her palms, "are you ready to give it a go?"

"Y-yeah," he stuttered before shaking his head and trying again, "yeah, I'm ready."

"Okay," she nodded, bending the water toward him slowly so he could take control, "Zuko, considering your internal organs are what we're working on, you really need to let us know if something doesn't feel right."

Aang could see Zuko fix his jaw and grip the edge of the blanket with a stiff nod that made him sweat, but he pulled in a long, deep breath and awaited instruction.

"Start at the shoulder and work your way down slowly. I worked out most of the energy in his chest, but there's still a lot at the entry point. It shouldn't overwhelm you if you don't rush."

Aang nodded, holding the small amount of water over the red markings on Zuko's shoulder; it wasn't like Sokka's leg, he could feel the energy Katara was talking about in the form of jumbled, irritated nerves under his fingers even if they felt impossible to get to.

He closed his eyes, trying to picture the energy twisting around itself that was causing his friend more pain than necessary and only starting to untwist it with his fingers once he was sure that he had a good hold on it.

"You're doing great, Aang," he heard her praise as he opened his eyes for a few minutes before her voice moved away from over his shoulder, "Zuko? Are you still with us?"

"Yes."

"Feel any different? Less tense?"

Zuko pulled in a breath that sounded a bit shaky, but when he nodded in agreement to Katara's question, Aang relaxed, closed his eyes again and continued to slowly move downward toward the base of the wound.

The twisting only grew under his fingertips as he moved downward as his forehead became sticky with exertion, but he pressed on.

"Aang?" Katara asked as he found himself biting the inside of his cheek while trying to untangle a particularly strong bunch of energy, "do you need a break?"

"N-no, I'm okay."

"Aang, I really think you need to take a break." She tried again, her voice still gentle but no longer asking, but Aang shook his head, using the water in his palms to pull at the twisting that was trying to knot itself inside of Zuko.

"I've almost got it, just let me-"

He rose in the air, eyes and arrows glowing in the reflection of the Dai Li armor, and focused his eyes for a brief moment on Katara as he continued to beam upwards.

Only for a shock to fill his entire body and send him falling to the ground as he lost consciousness.

Aang pulled away from the lightning wound with a large 'splash' as the water fell from his palms and onto Zuko, Katara and the bed but all he could focus on was the tightness in his throat and the pressure in his lungs.

"Aang-"

But before he could hear any of them out, he stood and ran out the doors even after hearing someone call out his name, trying desperately to catch his breath while it lodged in his throat.

"It's over," he tried to reassure himself as he slid down against the wall, pressing his eyes against his shaking hands, "y-you're not there any more. It's over."

He swallowed harshly to try and remove the lump in his throat and managed to pull his teary eyes from his hands before Katara walked into the room.

Even when she slid down beside him and told him "it's okay", he still found his chest rising and falling faster as he wiped tears off of his cheeks.

"You didn't hurt anyone, we're all okay," she insisted, gently pressing her palm against his upper back, "are you okay, Aang?"

"I s-should be past it now," Aang stuttered, leaning closer against her chest and taking in the sound of her calm, deep breaths to try and slow his own, "it was months ago."

"But you're not. Injuries like that, especially ones that are so fresh, can be really triggering. It happens to the best of us, okay?"

'You're not there. It's over.' His mental reassurances were doing nothing to calm the rapid 'thump' of his heartbeat as he finally managed to get himself to voice his concern to Katara.

"Can we take a break? From you teaching me about this?" He pleaded as he made eye contact with her, "I just…I think I need a bit longer to recover."

"Of course," Katara nodded instantly as she pressed a soft kiss to the back of one of his shaking hands, "we'll take as long as you need."

3. Beginning Again

It was supposed to be a simple trip to Omashu, for more discussions about rebuilding and bills and financial aid that would inevitably fall on Zuko's selfless shoulders.

But the uprising of Ozai supporters throughout the nations had only steadily grown in the two years after Zuko had taken the throne, so when it was revealed that all five of them needed to make the trip to Omashu, it didn't take long for them to settle on traveling together with the Kyoshi Warriors as part of the security force.

For the first couple of days, as they all crowded around a campfire while telling jokes and eating their dinners, Aang couldn't help but find himself longing for the days that they had all traveled as a group.

But it also reminded him that after they finished their business in Omashu, they would go back to being separated as they resumed their duties around the world; while Aang would be forever grateful for the financial support he had received from the other nations to preserve the Air Temples as historical landmarks, it also was a painful reminder that he was the last of his people.

On their third and final day of traveling towards Omashu, the skies opened up and poured relentlessly on himself, Katara, Sokka and Appa in the air and the Kyoshi Warriors walking alongside the caravan that held Zuko and Toph, which only continued to add to his growing sadness.

"I get why Zuko is in the caravan, he can barely breathe without someone trying to assassinate him," Sokka complained as he wiped what looked like a cup of water off of his head and onto Appa, who protested with a growl, "but Toph can stick it out with the rest of us."

"She does love the mud," Katara chuckled fondly, bending the rainwater out of her clothes to no avail, "but no matter how much she doesn't act like it, she's also got a target on her back due to her family."

"But Aang is still in the rain, and he's the Avatar!"

"I like the rain," Aang shrugged before reaching forward and scratching against Appa's wet head, "and Appa needs company."

He did not want to think about the storm that had transpired the night he left the Southern Air Temple, and he really didn't want to think about just how tightly he had held Appa's reins in his palms as they were pulled down by the relentless waves.

But before either of the siblings could add to his statement, the sound of an explosion rang out from under them, resulting in Aang gripping the reins so Appa would turn only to see the caravan turned over on its side while the perpetrators started to approach the smoke.

"Katara, Sokka, go get them out!" Aang shouted before grabbing his glider and joining the Kyoshi Warriors on the ground, sending a group of five to the ground with a blast of air before beginning to use his staff to propel them away.

They were severely outnumbered, no matter how many people were chi-blocked by the warriors, all while lightning seared the sky and the rumble of thunder overwhelmed their ears.

Aang hoped that he would be allowed to be involved in the interrogations of the attackers when all of this was over, because why anyone would go through with their plans as rain pounded on armor and had to be continuously wiped from their eyes was beyond him.

He winced at the smell of heavy smoke prevailing despite the downpour, because it meant that the caravan was more than likely rigged, that there was a double agent involved with the transport who could be taking down the Fire Nation from the inside.

But the most distressing part to Aang was that someone had seen the fourteen year old and the eighteen year old getting inside with smiles on their faces, with very long lives and long legacies ahead of them, and went through with an assassination anyway.

No one could see his tears through the rain as a part of him, maybe one of his past lives, demanded that he use the other elements and enter the Avatar state in order to end the ambush in that moment.

The slash of a sword ripping into his upper arm and coating his orange and yellow clothes in red would have been the turning point if a wave of fire hadn't erupted beside him and he was met with the bruised and soot-covered, but very alive, face that belonged to none other than Zuko.

Aang nearly cheered with relief until he saw the grave look on that same dirty face that he sent out another wave of fire.

"What is it? What's wrong?" He demanded, propelling the fire further with a blast of air.

"It's…it's Suki," Zuko stuttered while deflecting a swipe of a sword with his heavily armored wrist, "it's bad."

That's all it took for Aang to glide back into the sky and go to find the leader of the Kyoshi Warriors in the midst of the ambush; the aggressive rain drops did nothing to help him see in the crowd of green, gray, black and red as it dripped off of his skull and into his eyes.

But when he saw the green and yellow behind a rock wall and a flash of blue and white holding one of the warriors tightly in their arms, he knew he had found the right spot and descended inside of the wall.

"I'm gonna go find Katara." Toph insisted as soon as he landed and vaulted over the top of the rock wall, allowing Aang to crouch down beside Suki.

Zuko wasn't lying when he said it was bad; her armor across her stomach was badly slashed and along with it was a growing puddle of dark red that was starting to drip onto the muddy ground.

"I-I know you stopped learning, but is there anything you can do?" Sokka pleaded with a hand in her hair and the other clasped around her slack ones, the rain doing nothing to mask his tears.

It had been two years since he insisted that he needed a break, but his memory clasped tightly onto what he had learned in the month after defeating Ozai.

"I can try." Aang nodded and started to pull the rain out of the sky in order to form a small stream like the one Katara always kept by her side.

As he held it over the gaping wound, he could have sworn that he heard Sokka begging for Suki to "stay with him", the same way he imagined him saying it to Yue, but he did his best to block it out as he closed his eyes to focus.

The only way she was going to live was if he focused on the wound.

Not the fact that the first time he had done this, he had felt nothing. Not the fact that the second time he had done this, he had been left with a panic attack so intense that he had nearly given up on the practice.

'I cannot lose anyone else.'

And with that solemn thought, he pushed down and began to try his best to stabilize any of the veins and nerves that he could, pulling the tired energy away to bring in some that was more alert.

His forehead coated in a sheen coat of sweat when he heard two sets of footsteps run towards them, followed by the familiar shout of his girlfriend, "I'm here! I'm here!" before she settled in beside him.

When he heard the cork on the water-skin pop open, he expected to be pushed away.

"Aang, keep doing what you're doing." She demanded, which surprised Aang, but he did what he was told and kept his eyes closed as he continued to push and pull with the rain water in his palms.

"Her heartbeat is starting to steady."

"Stay with me…stay with me…"

"They…they got away…"

"I think she's almost stable."

That statement had Aang opening his eyes, bending with one palm and blowing into the bison whistle with the other before they started the precarious transport of Suki while her light, shallow breathing echoed against Sokka's chest.

…

Aang had stood on a similar balcony two years ago when he asked Katara to start teaching him how to heal, the two of them bathed in the final rays of the day.

As Aang stood in the first few rays of the morning, he wasn't surprised to be met by Katara looping her hand in his and standing by his side; he was starting to get taller than her, but she just had to reach across to grasp his hand.

"Suki's gonna be okay," she assured him, tucking her hand against his jaw so he was face to face with her ocean-blue eyes that were unable to mask the exhaustion from hours of healing, "you saved her life."

"I didn't save her," Aang pulled his gaze away, feeling Katara tense in her grip on his hand, "that was all you."

"You stabilized her before I got there. She…" Katara trailed off and never finished her sentence, but he knew what she meant.

In the heat of the ambush, Aang had been the only thing that stood between Suki and death's doorstep and in doing so, he had completed the goal that he wanted to accomplish when he first asked Katara to teach him.

"Thanks, Katara." Aang smiled, trying to ignore the throbbing in his upper arm from where the bandages hugged it too tightly.

She dropped his hand and turned towards the door, her gaze lingering on him for a few beats.

"Meet me inside, when you're done?"

"Yeah," Aang agreed, but he found it in himself to take a deep breath and ask, "Katara?"

"Yes?"

"If you're okay with it," Aang turned to meet her eyes, blinking with unfounded curiosity in a way that made his heart melt, "I want to get back to learning how to heal."

"You're sure?"

"I'm positive," he stopped to reach forward and grip her forearm gently before tacking on, "Sifu Katara."

Aang was nearly swept off of his feet when she pulled him forward against her lips; she tasted like the rainfall and the ocean, successfully taking his mind off of the angry pulse of his arm as the sun rays continued to dry out their clothes.

4. By Force

The diplomatic visit to Omashu continued with one of the other Kyoshi Warriors, who was named Reina, taking over Suki's duties.

Unfortunately for Aang, that meant having to try his best to stay awake while various dignitaries droned on and on about financial aid they still hadn't received from the Fire Nation, even though Zuko had made it abundantly clear that the money wasn't there due to Ozai tying their economy into their military, all while his arm throbbed painfully against his sleeve.

The long gash that had adored his clothes in red hadn't seemed important when he was faced with the gravity of Suki's wounds and Sokka's pleas, but two days past the ambush and the few futile attempts of using the river water to heal it had resulted in him looking at the world with tired, feverish eyes while the injury worsened.

The headache that was accompanying the pain wasn't helped as yet another person, he was pretty sure that he had been introduced as a general but Aang's mind was fuzzy, all but screamed at Zuko over some sort of funding that had been temporarily pushed back by a few months.

"-all these people are still suffering because you keep pushing us back to fund the Southern Water Tribe rebuilding efforts and the Air Temple restoration project!"

"I'm sure that you understand why their bills are getting priority, given their history with the Fire Nation despite you insisting that it's favoritism." Even in his feverish haze, Aang could hear the bite in Zuko's voice

"If the Earth Kingdom had lost all of our benders or if there was only one Earth Kingdom citizen left due to a hundred years of war that was caused by the Fire Nation, he would prioritize us higher," Toph added, her voice unusually calm, "and he has already given Omashu and Ba Sing Se hundreds of thousands to restore and rebuild."

He could have sworn that someone said his name, but he rubbed his eyes before looking up, only to see several sets of eyes on him.

"I'm sorry, what did you say?"

"I was simply asking if you would be okay with the Fire Nation skipping a few months of financial help on the Air Temple Restoration project in order to even out the payments to the water tribes and the Earth Kingdom."

"I don't have a problem with that," Aang responded, his mouth growing dry with every word he spoke as his head started to spin, "I mean, all of the nations have been so generous with their donations that I can probably restore the entirety of the Southern and Northern Air Temples with the funds I have. The Eastern and Western ones suffered a significant amount of damage, but if I focus on the north after I finish the south, I shouldn't need more payments for at least the next six months."

"So, it's been decided by the Avatar himself," the general's smug face was enough to pull anger from Aang despite his hazy vision as it clicked that he had been used against Zuko, "the Fire Nation will pause their payments to the Air Temple Restoration project until after the Northern Air Temple has been preserved."

"Very well."

Aang winced as he was hit by a wave of nausea and rested his head against his hand, trying to will it away with closed eyes.

"Next order of business, I want to…is he okay?"

"Aang?"

"You okay, buddy?"

"Hey, I think he's going to…"

Aang could feel himself fall forward as his vision spotted into darkness and his hearing ceased.

…

When he finally blinked himself awake in the dim lighting, he wasn't surprised to see Katara's concerned face; he didn't know if it was the fever or the small shed of light in the room that made her eyes look like they were glittering.

"Hey, sweetie," she whispered, reaching over to the side before pressing something blissfully cool against his cheek, "welcome back."

"Did I…" he winced at the scratch in his throat that he tried to clear to zero avail, "did I go somewhere?"

It was only when Katara wiped her eyes on her forearm that he realized that the glitter was actually tears and that the tears were for him.

"Do you remember what happened?"

"That one guy was angry about funding and I felt really sick the whole time."

"You got injured in the ambush," she filled in, still gently pressing the cool cloth to his face, "were you taking care of the wound?"

"I tried to heal it, with the water in the river," Aang explained, only to get a soft shake of Katara's head as a response that made him flush with embarrassment, "not my wisest move."

"River and rain water can work in a pinch, like when you stabilized Suki," she started to explain as she pulled the cloth away before gently cutting through the clean, thick bandages around his bicep, "but for future reference, you really want to use clean water so it doesn't get infected."

He nodded, wincing at the bite of the sting that made its way through his left arm, before finding it in himself to fill the silence.

"I'm sorry for scaring you, Katara. I'm sorry for scaring everyone, but especially you."

"It got us out of "let's scream at Zuko for five hours", so I doubt they'll hold it against you," she explained with a quick smirk before her brow furrowed in concentration, "as for me, try not to scare me like that. Okay, sweetie? I like you too much."

"Understood, Sifu Katara," he insisted, eliciting a small laugh out of her, "do you need to go back?"

She shook her head with unwavering determination, "I'm not leaving you until I know you're better, and that's final."

Aang couldn't help but smile with relief as she leaned in for a quick peck on her lips before returning her attention to his inflamed wound.

5. Refusal

Republic City always felt like a breath of fresh air to Aang.

While places like Ba Sing Se, Capitol City and Wolf Cove felt so isolated in their own traditions and practices, The United Republic was the best of all the nations all in one place.

It was the closest thing he had to a place he belonged in a world without airbenders.

It had taken several long years to bring the small city called Cranefish Town into the largely populated Republic City, but with the support and financial aid left over from the Air Temple Restoration project, it became a reality.

It certainly helped Aang's case by having the Kyoshi Warriors, the Fire Lord, the newly elected Chairman of the United Republic, the chief of police and most importantly, Katara, on his side.

But today, he and his wife weren't in the city on political business; with Sokka and Suki insisting that they take Bumi and Kya off of their hands, they were finally taking some time to enjoy themselves for the first time since Kya was born a month ago.

"I've missed this, you know," Aang insisted, his fingers wrapped tightly around Katara's in the midst of the bustling crowd outside one of the new Fire Nation restaurants, "just us."

However, he was met with a soft sigh, "you have work, don't you?"

"I just need to get some crime reports from Toph so I can discuss it with Zuko and Sokka next week," he insisted with a gentle squeeze on her shoulder, "it should only take five, ten minutes," another sigh that had his hand lingering back down to hers, "after that, I am all yours. I swear."

"I know, I know…" she sighed, wiping her eyes on the back of her hand.

"Hey, Katara," he spoke gently, the same way he did when he got out of their bed to soothe their daughter so she could continue to rest, "what's wrong? What did I do?"

"It's nothing, you didn't do anything, it's just stupid hormones."

Aang had a feeling that it was more then the lingering effects of postpartum hormones, but he had learned after Bumi that it was Katara's signal that she did not want to talk about it, so he pulled her in by the shoulder and pressed a gentle kiss to the side of her head, "five minutes and then it's just us, okay? No work, no bending, no stopping bad guys, just me and you."

"Okay," she nodded, her ocean-blue eyes still shiny with tears even as she tried to change her demeanor with a fake smile, "let's go see Toph."

The police station wasn't far from where they had wandered to after putting Appa in the care of the farmers who watched over the traveling animals while their owners toured Republic City.

However, when he held the door open for Katara before following closely behind her, he expected Toph to look up from her desk in the middle of the room and sense their presence, or to be met by one of the officers telling them that she was out on a case.

Aang did not expect to see Toph sitting in a chair in the middle of the room with a towel held to her forehead as a trickle of blood dripped down the right side of her face.

"Toph!" Katara shouted in shock, making Toph wince as her unseeing glance was tilted up at the ceiling.

"Hi to you too, Sugar Queen, Twinkletoes," she greeted, her voice strangled from the pain, "give me a minute and I'll get those reports to you."

"Are you- you're hurt, Toph," Aang sputtered as he walked over and set his hand on her bent knee, only growing more alarmed when she didn't shove him off with her free hand, "what happened?"

"Oh, the usual, ran off after a group of vandals, missed the curb and-" she cut herself to smack her hands together, only to grimace from both the noise and taking the towel off of her forehead which she promptly returned to the jagged gash.

"Did you get checked for a concussion?"

"It's not a concussion, Sweetness. All I did was eat shit in front of new recruits," Toph waved her free hand with dismissal, "since then, the new guys don't want to take their eyes off me or let me do my job, but I'm thinking about asking my councilman buddy if he can make some legislation about officers being barefoot because I cannot see jackshit in these stupid shoes."

Aang took a glance down at her metal boots, built just like the rest of her armor, before looking back up at her; before he could respond, however, Katara's water-skin was all but shoved into his palms.

"Toph, where are the reports?"

"Second drawer of my desk, left side, at the top. Can't miss them."

"I'll go get them. Aang here is gonna take care of that gash." Katara insisted with a wink of encouragement before disappearing into Toph's office and leaving him in disbelief with the water-skin as the lingering recruits filed off into their own areas of the building.

"Do you know what the hell you're doing, twinkletoes? And don't think that I don't remember the ambush and the comet."

Aang wanted to retort that in the years since the ambush, he had become a pro at healing Bumi's skinned knees, but he knew that it would only raise Toph's doubt and result in some very clever retorts, so he just responded with a simple, "yes, I know what I'm doing."

"I'll just wait until Katara gets back, if that's okay. Besides, it's funny to get all these new recruits to squirm," despite the pain lines around her mouth and what looked like tears in her eyes, her grin was wide enough that Aang felt comfortable slinging his wife's water-skin around his shoulder, "Kaito told me two of them passed out once they saw the blood."

"Glad to see you're in good spirits, at least," Aang couldn't help but smile, but there was a flicker of doubt across Toph's face that left him asking, "unless there's something that you want to tell-"

"I'm pregnant."

"Oh, well, congratulat-"

"The father isn't staying," Toph rubbed her eyes with her free hand and if she hadn't been crying before, she definitely was now, "and I don't know if me falling hurt the baby, not to mention it wouldn't have even happened if I wasn't wearing these spirts-damned shoes-"

"Hey, hey, Toph," Aang cut her off, moving his hand off of her knee to her shoulder, "Katara and I are here for you, okay? We'll help you figure it out."

"Help her figure out what?" Katara questioned as she approached with the stack of papers in hand, "and I thought you were gonna heal her."

"I need to talk to you, in my office, alone," Toph explained as she stood before Aang could open his mouth, "don't worry, Twinkletoes, I'm not gonna arrest her."

Aang passed off the water-skin and took a seat outside of the office with the crime reports in hand.

He wasn't sure how long he sat in the near-silent police station and while he was glad that the crime rate was low, he was also growing antsy in dreading anticipation no matter how much he tried to fall back on his meditation lessons he had received as a young boy.

But with one creak of the door opening, he found himself on his feet as Katara walked out while still talking to Toph.

"-really need to take it easy, though. I'll talk to Sokka about the shoes when we pick up the kids."

"I'll be more careful, but I won't promise to take it easy. I do have an entire city to keep in check," Toph insisted with a small, red line marking the place where the jagged gash had once been, "but thank you, for everything."

"Of course," Katara insisted, pulling her into a hug that Aang watched from a few steps away until his wife grabbed his wrist and pulled him into the group hug with a "come on, sweetie."

In the warmth of the group hug, Aang couldn't help but feel twelve years old for a few peaceful but brief seconds.

6. Bittersweet

It had been a very long day in Republic City.

He no longer found himself getting involved with the police force unless he was dropping in to grab the reports for Sokka to look over at the monthly meeting between the two of them and Zuko.

Zuko hardly showed up to them any more, growing much more reserved like he had been as a tenager after the recent passing of Iroh, but they still left a spot for him that was more often than not taken by Mai in his place with yet another apology for his absence.

This time, however, the three of them had gone over the reports to find something chilling encased neatly in between the vandals that always seemed to rise every time Toph put the last ones away as well as the growing tensions between benders and non-benders.

The name "Yakone" had come up many times over the years; a man who had deep ties to the criminal underworld of Republic City, but Toph had never been able to get together a rock-solid case against him; Aang knew that no matter how desperate she got to put Yakone away, that what he was reading had to be reality and in that reality, his stomach clenched.

"At least a dozen witnesses to his bloodbending?" With the way Sokka's voice cracked like a teenager as he read it aloud and his face adopted a grayish tone, Aang knew that his thought process was similar to his own, "but it's been outlawed for years. The last known practicer died a long time ago."

"Aang, I hate to ask you this, but is there any way that-"

"No," Aang cut Mai off, unable to hide the snap in his tone despite her obvious reason for asking, "Katara would never be involved with something like this."

He did not mention the nights during the first few years of their marriage where he woke up to her lurching out of sleep in a cold sweat with blood dripping from her nose; neither of them needed to know how much her experience with Hama still haunted her.

Mai had nodded and moved on, but Aang still thought about it through the rest of the meeting and on the way home; he knew that Toph would be bringing a new charge and with it, a new arrest against Yakone, but he also knew that there was still a chance it wouldn't stick.

But he didn't have to think about that tonight.

The biggest thing he had to worry about on the safety of Air Temple Island was if Tenzin had gotten so caught up in toddling behind Kya that he had received yet another black eye from hitting it against the dining room table.

That only made him opening the door to Bumi cackling as he swung the sword that Sokka had gifted him a few months before on his birthday while Kya threw small but impressive snowballs at him that much more shocking.

"What?" He started, instantly gaining Kya's, who dropped a puddle of water around her feet, and Bumi's, who lowered the sword with a look of surprise and guilt in his eyes, attention, "is going on in here?"

It did not surprise him when the eleven and five year old instantly pointed at the other one with a simultaneous shout of "he/she started it!"

"Okay," Aang sighed, taking a deep breath as he pinched the bridge of his nose before redirecting his eyesight at his daughter first, "Kya, I want you to go get a couple of the towels and clean the water off of the floor," he waited until she walked to the laundry room before turning his attention on his eldest son, "Bumi, where are your mother and brother?"

"Mom's been really quiet since she got back from getting some groceries in the city, she's in her room and Tez is…he was just in here, I swear."

Aang took one look behind the large bookcase and was met with a bright set of gray eyes and two hands reaching up towards him in response.

"He's back here because swords and waterbending aren't exactly baby proof." He explained while reaching behind the bookcase to pull his youngest child out, who was thankfully unharmed in the latest show of sibling rivalry.

"Tenzin is nearly three, he's not a baby any more."

"Maybe not, but he was frightened enough to wedge himself between the wall and the bookcase."

"How do you know that he didn't do it because he was exploring?"

"Bumi, enough," Aang cut the back and forth before it grew out of hand, "you need to put that sword away in its case and when your mom is feeling up to it, all of us are going to have a long conversation about when to use our abilities, bending or not. Do you understand?"

"Yes, dad."

"Okay. Did you three get dinner?" He didn't know what kind of day Katara was having or what could have caused her sudden silence, but he could try and gauge it by if the kids had been fed before eight p.m.

"Mom made sea prune stew, but she let me help with the dumplings." Bumi's excitement, despite the trouble he was still very much in, was infectious and filled Aang with joy as he pictured the scene in his head, "did you want some, dad?"

"No, I'll find some food after I talk to your mom," Aang insisted, pressing a kiss to his head, "go get some sleep, okay?"

"Okay," Bumi agreed, hugging him with the sword free arm and he hugged back with the Tenzin free arm, "goodnight, dad."

"Goodnight, Bumi."

It didn't take long for Tenzin to get settled in the small bed next to Bumi's, eight was pushing it for his bedtime, and while Kya insisted that he read her two of her many, many books that covered her bedroom, she too was out like a light by the time he was halfway through the second one.

But now that all three of the kids were asleep, it left Aang with nothing to do but slowly make his way into their shared bedroom and get to the bottom of the tension that was filling the silence.

"Katara?" He whispered toward the lump in the bed with the blanket over their head, only getting a slight shift in response, "Katara, it's me."

"Aang?" No longer clouded by the shaking of sobs, but the crack in her voice made it clear that she had been in distress and he hadn't been here to hold her in his arms.

"Hey," he muttered, only seeing the reality of the situation when Katara lifted the blanket off of her head and met his gaze with red, puffy, watering eyes, "I'm so sorry, I should have been here-."

"It's not…" a shudder wracked her body as she sat up and pulled her knees to her chest which had Aang climbing on the bed and pulling her all too cold frame against his body, "it's not your fault."

"What happened?"

"Toph brought me in today."

"What?"

"She wanted to know how Yakone…Hama's been dead for years, so her next logical suspect was…but I swear, Aang, I didn't-"

"I know you didn't," Aang cut her off, pressing a kiss against the side of her head, "I know that you, who spent so many years getting it outlawed, would never do that."

"Thank you. For believing me."

"I would be a horrible husband if I didn't," Aang responded, getting a soft laugh as he interlaced his hand in Katara's, "I'm helping Toph bring him in tomorrow."

"Did she ask you to?"

"No, she doesn't even know I'm coming, but I need to make sure he ends up behind bars."

"You don't have to piss Toph off for me," Katara insisted, wiping her face on her wrist, "just knowing that she actually has enough evidence to get him put away is enough."

"Hey, I'm the Avatar, remember?" Aang questioned with a soft smile on his face, "I have to make the world safe and that includes my world." With that, he rested his hand on the back of her neck before gently pulling her in for a long, warm kiss.

At least, it would have been if he hadn't heard the small whimper of pain escape from her lips when his hand grazed her left shoulder so he could have a better hold on her.

"Your shoulder is hurting again?"

She had injured her left shoulder years ago while the two of them were in the Fire Nation to help with the birth of Zuko and Mai's daughter, Izumi, but she had ended up being one of the people holding off yet another assassin attempt that had resulted in her getting thrown against the wall.

Seeing her that injured had terrified Aang in a way that still haunted him even now, knowing that he could lose Katara to a few firebenders despite her own power and the very powerful people that she kept close.

Katara had delivered Izumi two days later and despite the joy filling the nations, the two of them didn't know that the injury to her left shoulder would result in a constant state of pain that varied in severity by the day.

"It's not that bad right now," she insisted, but Aang still got up and plucked her water-skin from the nightstand, "sweetie, we both know that doesn't work."

"It helps though," he pointed out, bending the water out of the water-skin and holding it over the permanently twisted nerves, feeling her slump in relief under his fingertips as he worked out the tension that would inevitably be back, "is that better?"

"Just…hold it there, for a bit longer."

"Whatever you say, Sifu Katara." That nickname always got her to smile, even on her bad days.

"I'm not sure you can still call me that," she said around her infectious grin, "you've been healing skinned knees for ten years now."

"Do you want me to stop?"

"I didn't say that."

Her shoulder was as relaxed as he could get it, so he bent the water away and back into the water-skin before climbing into their bed beside her, letting her rest her head against his arm.

"I'll call you whatever you want me to call you," Aang whispered, pressing a kiss to her forehead as her eyes fluttered shut contently, "goodnight, sweetie."

He listened to her soft breaths in the darkness for a very long time that night as guilt clawed at his heart for never being able to take away her pain permanently, that her physical pain had limited her from using the majority of the training she had fought so hard to be included in back in the North Pole and that her mental anguish from being forced to manipulate his blood was still impacting her so negatively all these years later.

Aang could only hope that making sure that the last blood bender would remain behind bars for the rest of his life would bring just as much relief as the water had brought her that night; more importantly, he desperately hoped that Yakone's imprisonment would bring Katara permanent relief from the anxiety that was seemingly always holding her tightly in its grasp.

[occasionallyprosie]

A Thousand Ways

Chapter 1: "Sometimes you shouldn't just keep your head down"

Event Masterlist | Next>>

On a night in Legend's era, safe within the boundaries of an unnamed town, the veteran finds himself unstable but unable to sleep. He intended to just sleep off the concussion at best, or take a potion the next morning when they restocked on them at worse. He probably shouldn't have gone outside where he was easily seen while not at his best and without basically any of his items.

Febuwhump 2024 | Prompt 1: Helpless

Read on AO3

Warnings: torture

Legend had decided back on his first quest that he hated concussions. Over ten years later and on his... variably numbered quest (it could be the seventh if he combined the Oracles into a single one, it could be the sixth if he ignored Koholint too, or it could be the ninth if he individualized and counted every single vaguely adventure-like thing that happened), he still hated concussions.

Nonetheless, he powered through. It was a mild one anyways, he would be fine by morning probably, and if he wasn't then he'd buy an extra potion to drink.

They just arrived at a town in Legend's own era and kingdom, it was late and they had already decided to get supplies the next day after a good night's sleep in the inn. Legend didn't go to sleep though, despite the rather mild--he wasn't even nauseous really--concussion, he slipped out of the inn and found himself sitting out on a bench outside, watching the innkeepers wife's--Leanne's, he had visited the town before-- garden of flowers sway in the wind.

"Hey," someone sneered, "what's a brat like you doing out this late?"

He was literally an adult, but before he raised his head he saw armored boots.

A knight.

"Just getting some fresh air," he said, keeping his head down. "I don’t mean to bother."

Please don’t--

The boot swung up and he had plenty of time to dodge it, except he was trying not to be recognized so he took it. The steel boot hit his forehead and he let himself gasp, dropping his head lower.

"Look at me when I speak to you, brat!" They spat.

Legend grit his teeth, not responding in favor of keeping his head down. Maybe he should've dodged and just ran, that kick made his concussion much, much worse if only briefly. He couldn't think and suddenly, that nausea that hadn't been so bad, was very bad.

Instincts kicked in when the guard went in for another kick. Legend avoided it and quickly stood.

"You'll learn some resp--" the guard visibly recognized him when Legend met his eyes, forcing back the dizziness.

"You could've just walked away," Legend said coldly. "You just had to pick a fight with someone who you thought was a kid."

"You! Criminal!"

The outraged cry drew the attention of a nearby patrol of guards. Legend cursed, especially the fact that he'd left most of his items inside the inn. Four guards converged toward him, yelling and waking up the townsfolk while Legend bolted.

He didn't want nor should kill them, they needed a reality check sure, but death wasn't the answer here and he only had his medallions as an offense. No regular person would survive them, so instead Legend just ran.

To everyone's surprise, when he swerved into an alleyway unhindered, a patrol of guards were on the other side and startled when the patrol chasing him roared behind him. They quickly blocked off his escape, and with his head spinning, stomach lurching, and eyes refusing to focus--

A shield was slammed into his face and he was out cold.

Legend woke up in a painful daze, his whole body was sore, arms especially so, wrists in genuine pain and not just sore. His head felt like it was filled with cotton, yet simultaneously it felt empty with how his brain seemed to rattle in his skull. His magic was practically gone--

His magic was gone. He didn't feel the familiar weight of his medallions and pendants. He wasn't even wearing all his clothes! His red mail was gone, and his boots, leaving him just in his dark green under-tunic. His cap was gone as well and his hair was loose.

After assessing his own condition, Legend drew in enough focus despite the physical pain and magical exhaustion, and he tried to determine his situation.

He was in a cell, water audibly dripping down from the ceiling and down the walls. The ground was damp if anything. Stone lined the walls and floor, mortar on the walls but dirt in the floor. He was chained to the wall opposite of the (probably) iron cell door, the cuffs around his wrists had runes etched into it... the source of his magical exhaustion no doubt.

Metal clinked as he tugged the cuffs around his wrists, he didn't have a single inch of give, being cuffed directly to the wall itself. His magic was cut off, and his head spinning and throbbing and requiring far too much concentration to focus, Legend took far too long to come to a conclusion about his situation.

He had been captured, by knights no less, and he was completely trapped. He had no items, he'd never had the strength to even escape, and his magic had been drained before he could even try the... two things he'd been able to do in extremely extenuating circumstances to escape.

The cell door slammed open, Legend glared daggers at the knight who entered.

"Link, seems we finally caught you," they said, scowling and approaching him.

"I wa'--I was par-pardoned years ago," Legend snapped, his words attempting to slur, leading him to repeat himself clearly. "You have-- You have... no grounds for this arrest."

The knight drew closer. "Just because you tricked the queen doesn't mean you’re innocent. You'll pay for kidnapping her, and for the murder of dozens of good soldiers, especially Sergeant Alphon."

He snapped. He swung his leg up and nailed them in the face. Despite the height they had on him, his legs were just long enough and he was flexible enough to kick them.

"Get his name out of your mouth you bastard!" Legend fought against his chains, ignoring the pain and fuzziness. How dare this knight try and use his uncle against him?! How dare he?!

"Oh, you'll pay for that."

The knight punched his face, the back of his skull slammed against the iron panel behind him, a loud clang echoing through the room simultaneously followed by a hissed curse. His skull reverberated, pain exploding and seizing. A stabbing pain tore through his mind.

A second punch to his lower ribs had his legs giving out and his stomach to empty itself on the ground.

"Not so high and mighty now," the knight sneered. "You'll die in this cell, hero. Nice and slow, another day, another hour, another pain for all the men you killed."

Legend inhaled shakily, lips wet as he raised his head to glare.

"Do your worst," he growled. "I've survived worse."

He survived death itself, and returned with new items, new artifacts, new memories. He survived Ganon four times over, a lightning strike to the head, the near-death of his ancestor borderline erasing him from history.

Even if Legend did die here, it was the first... second time he could trust that someone else would finish the job. The other heroes would finish this quest and he didn't need to worry. He could die without regrets.

Turns out, dying slowly with a glimmer of hope to escape is far worse than being struck by lightning and drowning in a storm on the ocean.

The other heroes should've been able to find him, he'd gone with Twilight, or Wolfie, to track down the Traveler and Champion dozens of times, never through towns though. Yet they hadn't and Legend had determined not to rely on anyone, even the other heroes.

Though... it was hard not to cling to the hope of hearing blades clashing, or even just the creak of the door as one of them sneaks in. Not as his body refused to do the most simple of things, not while he could barely lift his head, not while he felt the cuffs that drained his magic very slowly chip away at his soul, eliminating any replenishment of his magic before it even formed. It was hard not to cling to any glimmer of hope of someone else saving him for once when his skin was torn, cut open, and his blood soaked the floors more than the water that dripped from above did. He told himself that he had to save himself, just like every other time he'd been pushed to the brink. He had a job to do and even if the other heroes could do it themselves, it was still his job to at least help. Yet as he hung from bleeding wrists, legs not strong enough to support him, he knew that even if he wasn't chained up, even if the cell door was wide open, he wasn't going to be able to walk out.

When the knights returned, jeering and joking with one another with the familiarity of brothers, Link drew in another breath.

He wasn't escaping. He survived death once, thanks to an ocean deity, but he was certain that he wasn't going to escape its hold a second time. Not as the knights pulled out something new--every day, it had been something new, or maybe every hour, he wasn't sure how long it had been--and discussed who got to use it first.

It was a flail, a handle of leather likely around wood but maybe steel, and multiple long ropes of frayed leather.

Link--Legend(they were still there, he wasn't alone again, the quest was still ongoing even if he died here) didn't have the energy to cry out as the cat o' nine tails was whipped across his face, tearing his lip, the bridge of his nose, his brow and cheek, his eyes sealed shut from the pain. He did flinch, he did whimper and gasp, but nothing more.

He didn't have the strength for more. Frayed leather struck across his chest, catching his collarbone and cutting a scabbed wound open. His throat was raw, had been for a while now with stomach acid burning the irritation of his screams. Even as he tried to scream, nothing more than a wheeze fell from bloodied lips.

He hoped they wouldn't be too upset with him leaving them to finish the fight. He almost wanted to laugh, it was a bit ironic... Of course he, the helpless bunny, would be killed in captivity. He, the veteran, would die on an adventure. He, the collector, would be left item-less at the end, after all you can't take anything to the afterlife.

It was ironic, because the adventuring veteran who collected items from across four countries, three worlds, and had killed Ganon four times... was still just a helpless bunny who couldn't defend himself when it mattered.

Soon enough, as his vision faded out, Legend fell.

Though with his magical stores empty and his soul having just been drained... he didn't even notice that his fall had been in the physical sense. Cuffs didn't matter when the goddess herself took matters into her own hands to displace her hero through time.

Next>>

[waterdeep-weavemoss]

Destruction and Desire

Day 27. Song is Missile by Dorothy. Raphael x Celeste. Heed the tags. She woke to the cloying scent of cherries and musk and sex. To the weight of him inside her, the heaviness of his wing around her, the glowing red of the tainted morning light. Celeste listened intently; the way his hands tightened around her body belied his deep breathing.

'Back to hating me, angel?'

I never stopped, she thought. I hate you with the same passion people reserve for love. If you will take from me I will take from you in return. I will hunt you to the hells' edges.

He laughed throatily like he understood her thoughts, pressed a gentle kiss to her bare shoulder. 'You're such a tiny thing.'

The softness was dangerous. He rolled her onto her belly- as if she could do a thing to stop it- and braced above her. She was utterly consumed by this creature, soft and pliant under his claws, her sword out of reach against the wall.

'I hope you've reconsidered,' he purred, a hand moving to hold her throat as he moved within her- more slow, controlled strokes designed to leave her body boneless and spent.

'Yes,' she said softly. She pushed back against him, whined as his hand flexed on her throat. 'Your terms seem reasonable...'

'No more talk of terms,' he growled. 'I want you to scream.'

She did, and she didn't even have to fake it. His size and strength were overwhelming, his claws dragging over every bit of skin he could reach, leaving blood trails and welts. If he hurt her he didn't care, relished her whimpers of pain and pleasure. But it was when he sunk sharp teeth into the crook of her shoulder that she screamed herself hoarse. The pain screamed through her and he groaned deeply in response, vibrating her whole body with the depths of his depraved need. His tongue lapped greedily at the blood, his next thrust making her sob.

'Delicious,' he whispered, nuzzling her cheek. Unsatisfied, he took her jaw in his hand and crushed their lips together, blood and brimstone in her mouth. She gagged on his invading tongue and he only pressed more insistently.

I like it when my clients put up a fight.

She might have hated him, but her body sang to his tune anyway. He broke away, shifted her hips upwards with one hand and pushed her head down with the other. His movements became vicious, harsh, deliciously taking her apart. Her screams were muffled by the pillows, her tears soaking the silk, and he roared in triumph and want, the torrent of heat sending her limp and bloodied to the sheets as he pulled out of her, surveyed his work. In a dizzying moment he flipped her, pressing her back into the bed.

'Poor little one,' he crooned, taking in her clawed and bitten skin, the tear tracks down her cheeks. Her honey brown eyes sparkled with more unshed tears, her lips were bruised and bloodied, her thighs sticky with his release.

'Again,' she croaked.

He grinned wickedly, gathering her up. 'Are you sure you can take it, angel?'

'Yes.' Her voice was just barely a rasp. 'If I'm on top this time.'

Raphael's eyes glittered malevolently. 'Very well.'

He settled back, guiding her. She had weakened considerably and he drank it in, this vision of corruption. She straddled him, whimpering with overstimulation.

'Take your time,' he said. She knew he was savouring the state of her, wanted to draw it out.

'Thank you,' she whispered, leaning down to his ear. Her hands smoothed over his shoulders, up his neck, to rest on his cheeks. She kissed him then, roughly, like she knew he wanted.

I'll give you a fight if you want one, devil.

'Good girl,' he said, holding her by the nape of the neck. 'Such an obedient little pup.'

'I am,' she agreed. Her fingertips stroked his face gently. She was waiting. When he ground impatiently against her, she smirked.

Her hands stilled briefly. Then, with the speed of a striking serpent, she plunged her thumbs into his infernal eyes, her lips pulling back in a snarl. He screamed, hot infernal blood spurting from the wounds; her nails dug deeper, a guttural growl ripped from her throat as he hands scrabbled at her. She planted a foot on his chest, leaning her full weight into him. He was so huge she can't have felt heavier than a child to him, but the shock kept him down. Scrambling off his body, just barely taking in the bloodied wreck of his eye sockets, she reached for her weapon.

'See you in the hells, motherfucker,' she hissed, plunging the blade deep into his chest. His scream turned high pitched, sending shivers up her spine as he vanished in a billow of infernal smoke and gore.

She collapsed forward into the bloodied sheets and screamed. She'd drag herself to camp later, let Gale fuss over her and Halsin heal her wounds, let Astarion rage on her behalf and Karlach hold her like she could piece her back together, but for now... for now she left the pieces of herself scattered and bruised, just about held together with blood and bone.

Tags:

@bluerosetarot @dansnotavampire @further-than-forever

@forget-me-maybe @poetryvampire @sasha199 @wandawillow

@boufsy @owlseeyoulaterpal @lanafofana @amorgansgal

@aryancunin @miradelletarot @marlowethebard

@crimson-and-lavender @reeseykins @medra-gonbites

@roguishcat @weaverofnetheril @galedekarioswifey @hyperfixationstation128 @12thhouse-sun

@astarryvamp @feedthepheasants @dabigstinky @dreamingofthewild @ladyofcrowsandcoffee

@femmefuck @spooky-lil-bee

[devileaterjaek]