#I love this expression - greed/determined/excitement

[1randomperson15]

Augh I love this panel so muchhh. The misfit's demonic expressions make me !!!

[assassinshadowgirl]

Acceptance

"Clive. Joshua." Jill called both cheerily as she entered Clive's chamber. "I got something for you both."

The Rosfield brothers paused their Tome readings as Jill presented two fine lovely hand sewn pouches with an elegant phoenix embroidery design as well as their names carefully sewn on it.

Red was for Clive while orange was for Joshua. Even Jill has it; a dark blue pouch with a beautiful ice embroidery design.

"This is quite well made." Clive complimented as he examined the materials with his hands. Fine materials made from the feathers of Chocobos and silk.

"I didn't know you had such fine handicraft skills, Jill." Joshua doesn't recall she ever did one back in the old days at Rosaria. Except for flower laurels.

Jill chuckled and shook her head. "Actually, it wasn't done by me. It was someone else." She pointed out.

Clive and Joshua were curious who it was.

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

Jill led the brothers to Harpocrates's library. Quietly creaking open the double wooden doors, she gestured to them to take a peek inside. They did.

It was Dion. Sitting on one of the chairs, with knitting and sewing accessories on the long table, knitting something for two excited Bearer children.

"Here you go." He handed two little white knitted Moogles to them.

"Thank you, big brother!" The children expressed their thanks and soon were playing with it while Dion resumed his knitting.

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

"He made this for us?" Clive asked Jill. She nodded.

"I actually suggested to him to give it to you both personally yet he politely implored me to do it for his stead." She quietly sighed while observing him from a distance. "The guilt of what happened back at Twinside still weighs heavily on him. He may have begun living with us at the hideout but he barely struck any conversation with anyone.”

"I often see him spent most of his time alone outside. Staring silently towards the Crystalline Dominion direction, lost in deep thoughts with grief-stricken expression.” She gazed up at Clive. “Healing him from this ordeal won't be easy. I wish I could help him more but I’m not sure how."

Clive looked at Jill then shifted his gaze back to Dion. He clearly knew that the very catastrophe happened at the capital city wasn't Dion's fault to begin with. It was all Ultima’s machination; That fiend disguised itself as Olivier Lesage to manipulate Dion’s father, Sylvestre Lesage. And of course, Anabella played a part in this event. Her arrogance as an elitist, greed and obsession of wanting to obtain higher social status had opened up an opportunity for Ultima to take advantage of it. Dion who just wanted to save both his father and homeland from the tyranny, ended up striking his father down by accident resulting the prince to spiral into a deep shock and guilt mentality.

Though Dion managed to get back to his feet, the transgression he committed couldn’t be undone. He blamed himself though no one even the Rosfield siblings never ever blamed him. Yet Dion chose to hold the responsibility by himself.

Clive, this time, was determined to do something for Dion again after Harpocrates’s request three days ago. He didn’t want Dion to suffer alone. Clive wanted to pass a message to him; Letting him know that he's not alone and they are all in this together. As a family.

"What do you propose, brother?" Joshua asked.

“You remember the wild wyvern tail?”

“I do. However, Dion declined the gift.”

“Well, he did. Still the wyvern tail is a symbol to the Holy Empire of Sanbreque and it’s also his favourite flower. We may have planted the seeds at Nigel's yard. Hoping one day it will cheer him up when it blooms in abundance. I was thinking what if we give him the same thing but in a different form?”

Joshua and Jill exchanged looks then pondered for a moment. Maybe it might work…

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

"You sure you want to make this?" Otto asked the trio when he studied the blueprint drawing.

"Yes. I have the materials here." Clive placed the box on the table.

"And we would like to make it ourselves. Of course, with you as our guidance." Joshua added on.

“Please keep it as a secret. We don’t want Dion finding it out.” Jill requested.

Otto raised an eyebrow. "Forging something with this design isn't going to be a simple task. It might take a week or so. I mean you three never even done smithing before."

"With our magic, I'm sure we can get it done in about a few days’ time." Clive seems confident.

Otto was taken aback. He let out a grunt. Scratched the back of his head. Finally crossed his arms. "Fine. Let's not waste any time."

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

Otto wasn’t joking. The process and progress were indeed hard. It took Jill the whole day with lot of tries to get her ice magic to successfully merged with the silver. She made a few more for backups in case the Rosfield brothers screwed it up.

Once her part was done, Joshua and Clive proceeded. Both utilising their fire magic, trying to forge out the shape perfectly according to the blueprint. It was tough despite Otto’s assistance. There were a lot of trials and errors; either the shape was off, accidentally breaking the materials, Clive clumsily hammered his own fingers during smithing or Joshua ‘burnt’ himself so on.

Meanwhile Dion as usual, either spent time alone outside or staying in the library doing knitting or doing errands for Harpocrates. Though he did notice the Rosfield brothers spending a lot of time at the blacksmith. Luckily, he didn’t suspect anything as Jill instructed Torgal to distract the prince.

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

Finally, just as Clive calculated, they completed the piece in just three days. Now to gift it to Dion. Before that, Clive even prayed to Ifrit including the old ancient mural hanging in his chamber that Dion will accept the present they make for him.

The trio approached Dion in the library. They called his name. He glanced up and seemed rather surprised to see Clive, Joshua, Jill including Torgal was there to greet him.

“Is something the matter?” He asked.

“We have something to give you. Could you close your eyes for a moment?” Clive smiled.

Dion was confused. “Oh alright. If you say so.” He did as request without enquiring further.

“Don’t open till we tell you to.” Joshua reminded before nodding at his older brother. Clive took a deep breathe, opened the box and approached Dion. Dion can feel something was carefully and gently pinned on his collar. Clive took a step back and spoke, “Ok. You can open your eyes now.”

Dion did and stared down. He gasped before casting a quick glance at the trio. It was a brooch. A beautifully crystal shaped wyvern tail brooch pinned on his collar. “Is this…” Dion was loss at words as he touched the jewel. He then noticed the small bandages on Clive’s fingers.

“You make this for me?”

“I didn’t do it on my own. Joshua and Jill helped.” Clive smirked at his trusty hound. “Torgal too.” The hound barked. It was proud of it’s distraction skill.

Dion looked at the brooch again. “Why made it for me?”

Clive rubbed the back of his neck. “We made it to convey our message to you.”

“Message?”

“We want you to know that you’re not alone and you have us. Not only just a friend but family as well.”

“Family?” Dion looked away. “We are not even blood related. Furthermore, my father besides my stepmother was responsible for your father’s murder and Rosaria’s downfall. The Holy Empire’s ill treatment towards Bearers. Despite all of these, you still want to consider me as part of the family?”

“Yes. I do.” Clive smiled. “We never blame you. You have done nothing wrong. You’re just the same as us. Victims of Ultima’s scheme. You did what you have to do; to save both your father and homeland. If I was you, I would have done the same thing, Dion.”

Clive reached out to hold Dion’s hand in his. “I know you are suffering a deep guilt about Twinside but know this: It wasn’t your fault at all. And we are willing to share these burdens with you. Don’t hold it all to yourself alone. We are here for you, Dion. You can always reach out to us. We will be here for you whenever you need us.”

Clive pointed to the jewel. “This brooch signified us and you together. As brothers and family. Once Ultima is gone, let us rebuild Rosaria and Sanbreque together as one nation. No more mothercrystals. No more aether. No more magic. Alas no more as Dominants but as normal people.”

Dion was silent as he looked at Clive. Suddenly a single tear drop rolled down his cheek. He quickly wiped it away. “I—I don’t know what to say, Ifrit…I mean Clive.” More tears. “I---” He couldn’t hold back his feelings anymore. Dion never expected he will feel the warmth of something he once lost and longed for it once again. He thought he had completely lost it all. And now here he was, able to experienced it again.

Clive pulled Dion towards him and embraced him like he always did for his little brother. Dion embraced back as he wept. He finally opened up his feelings. Joshua and Jill also embraced Dion while Torgal leaned close to his lap.

“Welcome home, my brother.” Clive said.

“Thank you, Clive. My big brother.”

--END--

Writer's Note: Got the inspiration to write this short fic after watching the cutscene where Dion took out a green pouch to pass it to Terence. Then it later got re-edited into a story where I want Dion to be happy. Acceptance. Dion really deserves a happy ending after what happened to him.

[loveazumane]

—𝙬𝙚𝙖𝙠.

summary: yami knew what your weakness was. and that weakness was him

warnings: nsfw. thigh riding. fingering.

word count: 1.3k

you were always so helpless and weak for yami sukehiro, the infamous captain of the black bulls. and although he was dense and oblivious, he knew this too. as much as you were strong and held no sign of fault, when yami did something as small as tapping you on the shoulder, you’d instantly melt and fall victim of his touch.

so when a mission came up and you were told that the enemy would play at your heartstrings by using your weakness as an illusion, yami was set on helping you surpass your limits. that meant there was going to be a ton of touching. and that brings you to your current situation.

you’re sitting in front of yami, cheeks and ears hot with both nervousness and excitement as he stares you down, a cigarette nonchalantly sat between the hold of his lips.

“you know you’re weak, right?” yami says. “you easily lay your heart on a plate just for a man like me.”

your eyes twitch a little. you knew yourself already, it wasn’t necessary for him to tell you that. still, you kept your mouth sealed and let him continue.

before speaking, he blows out a puff of smoke. “sit here.”

you see him tap on his leg and your eyes blow wide open. “w-what?”

“am i not speaking loud enough? seriously. don’t tell me you’re an idiot too.” yami taps on his leg once more. “sit here.”

you hesitantly stand and approach him before perching yourself on his lap. you’re stiff as you sit on him, wondering why you had to sit on your captain in a way that seemed as though you were together. yami, on the other hand, seemed to be relaxed. you wondered how he could be so easily nonchalant while you were about to lose every ounce of insanity you had.

“why... why are we doing this?” you ask.

yami glances into your eyes and you snap away. he sighs. “training.”

“i don’t understand how this would be training,” you tell him.

“ha? you freak out whenever i touch you and you get nervous when i talk to you--just like right now. seriously, idiot, if you don’t start getting close to me and feeling calm, you’d be a dead rat on the side of the street.” you feel yami’s large hand rest on your thigh and you jolt. “see. how are you going to face the mage who shows an image of me?”

he’s right. “so,” you cough, “what do we do?”

“what we’re doing right now.” yami’s hand travels higher up your thigh, causing goosebumps to rise from your skin. you shiver and try to move, but it only gives you a strange friction between your legs. curse the tight pants you decided to wear. when you were about to get up, in fear he would sense the burning arousal, yami holds you back by twisting you around so his thigh is pressed up against your core. “where do you think you’re going?”

you gasp and a moan slips from your lips. “i--”

yami lets out a chortle. “ha... getting all sensitive again? i’m starting to think i shouldn’t send you on the mission.”

“yes! i mean… yes, you should. i’m important to the team,” you defend yourself weakly.

“then for this training, i want you to try your best and not cum.”

your eyes nearly pop out of their sockets when you hear the words that come out of his mouth. “what?”

yami’s eyebrows furrow in seriousness before pushing you down against his leg which makes you twitch and whine. “what? you can’t do something as simple as that?”

simple? you beg to differ. yami was a man you’ve been pining for since the day you met him. there was no way that you could hold back the reactions he’s willing to give you. in fact, it was close to impossible to not cum by his actions. thankfully, yami seems to get the hint by the way your expression is flushed.

“fine. as long as you can hold it back for a few minutes.” yami pushes you down again and you moan. “you hear me?”

you nod. “yes, captain.”

yami smirks a little before his large hands start caressing the side of your hips. before long, he begins to move you slowly, grinding your heated core against his thigh. you can barely compose yourself, trying your best to keep your breath steady and body steady as you hold his broad shoulder for support.

the cotton material that separates you from his skin is driving you mad, but the more he lifts you up and brings you back down has your mind blanking for a good long time that you can hardly focus. when you feel him flex his thigh, your pussy clenches and you fall against him.

“now… don’t be giving in too easily,” yami mutters.

you nod feverishly before sitting straight. the pressure against your core is too much, and whenever he flexes, it only puts stimulation against your clit. within a few seconds, you could have already come undone.

“look at me.”

your breath is caught in your throat. you hadn’t realized you were avoiding yami’s gaze this whole time. it was probably because you were trying your best to please him by doing as he was told. you wanted to show him that you weren’t as weak as he said you were to be. but the second he told you to look at him, you were practically trembling.

“look at me.” his tone was more forceful and you looked at him, straight into his dark orbs and your pussy flutters once more. “good girl. i like that you’re trying to be tough.”

you try to utter a word, but a moan falls from your lips instead. your toes curl and your eyes nearly roll back. it wasn’t because of yami’s leg pressing up your core. this time, it was his large and thick fingers rubbing against your clothed clit.

“w-what are you doing? i thought we were just…” you gasp when he dips his fingers under your underwear and his warm skin makes contact with your wet folds.

“battles are unexpected. sometimes you have to work with surprises,” yami says.

you try to keep your eyes locked on him but when you feel him slip a finger, thick and hot, into your dripping core, you tremble. you can’t hold it any longer. although it was just one finger, yami’s digits were incredibly thick and girthy, enough to have you stretched wide and nice.

“you’re so warm in here. and it seems like you’re going to cum. too fast even.” yami continues to provoke you, pushing his finger deeper until the palm of his hand caresses your clit.

“i—i can’t hold myself back any longer,” you tell him honestly, nails digging into the skin of his shoulders.

the knot in your stomach was incredibly loose, ready to untie and fall, but your determination to receive permission before you cum was able to keep it glued together. still, you weren’t sure how long.

“please… please let me cum,” you beg.

yami sighs. “mmm, fine. cum all over my finger.”

and he lets you ride it out until you cum, your body falling slump against his as you jolt from the incredible orgasm. you’re exhausted and twitching from the climax, but that doesn’t stop yami from lifting you up so you can try and stand.

you’re shaky and your legs are weak, but you do your best. you look at yami shyly and you feel embarrassment wash over you when you see him lick his fingers—the same fingers used to touch you at your most lewd area.

“tomorrow, we’ll continue again. you’re still weak.”

you nod and scurry away. behind you, you’re unaware that yami’s “training” was purely soiled from greed. he loved seeing you groveling and weak for him. he loved the effect he had on you. and if he could, he’d have you on your knees and sucking his cock until you can’t help but rely on his touch every single day of every single second.

you were weak, yes, but yami’s fascination over you made him even much more pathetically weak than you were.

𝙢𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙖 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 𝙨𝙤𝙪𝙧𝙘𝙚: velvet kiss

[ready-to-obeyme]

[OM!] Demon Brothers panic-buy MC a last-minute birthday present

Prompt: You drop the fact that your birthday is in a few days, much to the demon brothers’ surprise. They don’t have a gift for you prepared-- panic ensues.

Note: gender neutral; :) i just like seeing them get flustered

--

Lucifer

“Ah, your birthday? Of course I knew. You thought I didn’t?”

He didn’t know-- not until you told him just then a mere DAYS before your birthday

Internally panicking but he will NOT have you know that he missed this rather important detail

Casually asks you in the next few days if you’re free to go out with him because “he wants to spend more time with you--” which he DOES but he has ulterior motives such as hoping you’d point out something you like when you go out so he can gift it to you

Will watch your movement and gestures like a hawk trying to gauge what sort of present you would want from him

Money isn’t really a concern of him; he just wants to make sure that his gift is something you actually want and is thoughtful enough

If he’s unlucky and you are in fact NOT free in the few days leading up to your birthday, he paces a lot in his room, trying to remember if there was something you mentioned from a past conversation because he has too much pride asking you what you would want for your birthday

...but eventually caves in and asks his other brothers (probably Asmo or Beel) what they think you would like because his love for you >>> his pride

He has seared your birthdate into his mind now because he’d rather not have a repeat of whatever happened this year

--

Mammon

“Your birthday? Hahaha of COURSE I knew your birthday was in a few days… IN A FEW DAYS--?!”

He blurts this out but you tell him it’s fine but he won’t have it

He’ll try to cover it up, pretending he knew, but he sucks at lying and the fact he suspiciously walks out of your room to find a quick job listing to get enough money for a present is telling enough

First ideas most likely include rummaging in his room for anything valuable or shiny that you could possibly want

Considers giving you his car for a second in his panic but realizes you’d probably freak out at the extremely extravagant present

Will definitely try to snoop in his brothers’ rooms in search of things and collectively tells them (and makes them panic) about your birthday as well

Eventually sucks it up and works at Hell’s Kitchen, literally diving underneath counters and tables to avoid having you see him working

Terrible at making excuses to you about where he is so you probably know he’s working, and he feels bad that he has to avoid hanging out with you-- but he loves you and this is for you, after all, so he bears it

Buys you something he finds value in and thinks would like nice if you wore it; after all, the Avatar of Greed wants the best he can afford for you

--

Leviathan

You tell him your birthday is coming up soon while he’s playing something and the only thing he says first is “oh nice”

Then he realizes

“YOUR BIRTHDAY IS WHEN??”

He died on the screen, which you point out, but his eyes are wide and a little pleading

Asks you directly what you want for your birthday and he will literally search it up for you on Akuzon right there and then (it’s wild seeing online shopping on several screens)

“How about this one? Wait, no-- that’s terrible quality and the reviews are horrible; let’s check out this one.”

Makes you tell him everything you could have possibly wanted in the past few months so he can compile a list of things he can search up and select from

If he’s manic for the next few days, know that he hasn’t been gaming (has not since you dropped this very important detail) but has been vigorously searching up all the online shopping sites he can find to get the things you wanted down to its detail and quality

Definitely enlists his online friends for recommendations, but regardless will buy you matching gaming headset on top of whatever you wanted because he wants you to know you’re his Player 2, even if you don’t game

All the presents come on the same day (Mammon grumbles that it’s blocking the walkway) and he shoos you away as he carts everything up to his room to wrap it

Wishes he had more time to make you a present instead of buying something but hey there’s always next year

--

Satan

“O-Oh. Your birthday is in a few days, huh?”

Satan stares at you for a few moments too long as if he wants to say something but decides against it and gives you a benign conversation starter like “You must be excited for another year done”

Inwardly, he’s trying to calculate in his head when he has time to research for things you want, if going on a cat cafe date is too indulgent to be a gift to you, if he should just ask you what you want for a present-- all while holding a conversation with you

Not a great conversation, mind you-- you can tell he’s a little preoccupied, but you’re more worried about how his sentences trail than anything

Pops up randomly in the next few days in your room just to chat, looks around your room, and then leaves again (like a cat)

He’s trying to find a present that you’d want to use-- something practical-- but also something you’d also enjoy having (he’s setting up high standards, but he wants his gift to be good enough for you)

Low-key stressing a lot over this that he’s a little distracted at all times

Ends up combining all his gift ideas by setting up a date for you to spend some quality time with him AND buy your gift when the two of you are together AND has a gift ready for you just in case nothing catches your fancy on your date (he is anything if not prepared for all scenarios)

The gift he gets you is something he’d think you’d enjoy or reminded him of you (and hopes for the best)

--

Asmodeus

“WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME EARLIER?”

Asmo is almost offended that you didn’t tell him about your birthday-- how is he supposed to set up a extravagant birth week celebration if your birthday is in a few days?

But no matter-- he’s not that discouraged and is determined to rock your socks off with a present anyways, even though he would have definitely had your birthday celebration as a tag for the entire month if he had the time (now it’s only a week-long trending tag, but he’ll make do)

Will definitely coyly offer up himself as a present (and if you say yes, he will be at your mercy) but thinks he has more creativity that than to make you special day great

Takes you on a shopping spree where he dresses you up in the fanciest of clothes and things that you have always adored and refuses to let up until you let him buy you a gift

On the day of your birthday, he offers up his room as an entire spa day-- pedicure, manicure, whatever-cure you would ever want! Massage, face mask, bubble bath-- if there’s anything that can let him show how much he appreciates you, then tell him! He is at your mercy today!

Takes you out on a spin in town, buying you drinks and dancing with you at clubs if that’s what you want; but the night is yours, hun!

Beelzebub

You tell him when he’s eating something and his face morphs from surprised, delight, to sadness

“I… didn’t get you a present yet…”

You reassure him that it’s completely okay, but you know your words aren’t working because he still has that forlorn expression that reminds you of a kicked puppy

Asks you directly what you would want and if you tell him he’d be more than happy to get whatever it is you requested, even if it’s a physical gift or if you want to spend the entire day with him

It is your birthday and he already feels bad for not being able to really prepare for it properly, so he’ll do anything he can to make you happy

If you don’t tell him what you want, you better be strong enough to resist looking into his eyes to not cave into just telling what you want

Eventually settles on giving you something thoughtful and quickly hand-made-- like a set of coupons that say things such as ‘I will do your chores for a week’ or ‘I will make you dinner’

The coupon book has a lot of food-related things than anything, but you know his love language is basically food-- he loves you lots, okay?

Other than that, he’s super indulgent to you on your birthday. You want a lift? No problem. You want him to carry you bridal style to school? Sure, he can’t see why not!

--

Belphegor

“Wait, seriously? You waited until NOW to let me know?”

Kind of annoyed about the fact you dropped this detail on him now and decides to immediately punish you by trapping you in his embrace in a forced snuggle even while you laugh (so honestly, you have no regrets)

Tells you he’s not getting you a present

He’s getting you a present though, regardless of what he says, but now he has the element of surprise on his side (assuming you believe that he’s not getting you something)

Hangs out with you per usual in the next few days, paying more attention to what you would want in a present and asking low-key questions about possible gift ideas-- he’s real sneaky about it, so you honestly won’t pick up on it at all

Goes out of his way to help you study and help you out because it is your birthday, after all, and he’s pretending like he didn’t get you a present

Probably casually drops off a gift at your desk on your birthday, and if you’re surprised, he’s a little smug-- but if you’re not, he’ll be a little embarrassed but will tell you to just ‘open the present already’

Gift is most likely to be something that he’s noticed that you have continually needed but never had the thought or time to get-- just to make your life a little easier

Tells you to go nap with him as compensation for the work he’s done trying to think up of a gift for you

[totally-original-artist]

Spirit

Day 3: Spirit

Warnings: None (Just fluff)

Characters: Mammon, Lucifer, MC(mentioned)

Word count: 572

A single sharp beep rings through the air, a tanned hand comes down on the clock to stop it. Usually it would take at least a few more beeps to make the avatar of greed even open his eyes but not today. Today is a special day for Mammon. Today he had a date with MC!! Just the thought of spending the entire day with them, alone at that, made him feel so giddy. He awoke with a grin already plastered across his face, he started removing his clothing, rushing to the bathroom, stumbling with his pants around his feet for a while before discarding them near his shirt.

Mammon was determined to finish up at least thirty minutes before MC so he could wait for them like the gentleman he knew he was. In his rush to sway his love he accidentally ends up getting some shampoo in his eyes, he vigorously rinses them while silently cursing his luck. He hoped his eyes wouldn’t stay red for too long, he had a human to impress after all! 

He sprinted to his closet and tore open the doors, there lying in wait were some neatly folded clothes that he had selected in advance last night. Mammon quickly puts on the shirt, buttoning it up top to bottom, then snatching the tie from the pile he puts it around his neck and freezes. How do you tie a tie?! He hurries to the mirror and desperately tries to replicate how to tie it from the times he’d seen Lucifer do it, but no matter what he did it he couldn’t get it in the right shape. Dread slowly started to set it, he contemplated if he should just forget the tie altogether. But then the outfit won’t be complete! Just as he was about to select a completely new outfit, the door to his room bursts open and in comes Lucifer.

“Mammon- Oh, you’re up earlier than I expected.” he said, leaning against the doorframe and eyeing his brother.

“Uh…”

“What are you doing?”

“I was just! Um, the uh. The tie, and I...gah! Lucifer, you gotta help me!” Mammon rambled out. If there’s anyone who could help him it’d be his older brother of course! Lucifer scrunched up his eyebrows in disbelief, then walked over to Mammon to help him out.

“First, put your collar up.” He goes on to explain the other steps, meanwhile Mammon is too busy thinking about the amazing day ahead of him now that the issue has been solved. Lucifer could practically feel the flowers radiating off of his brother, he swore he could feel some bounce off his face.. “Did you get all that Mammon?”

“Uh...huh?” Mammon blinked out of his dazed state. “Sorry, I sorta lost you at collar.” He said sheepishly. Lucifer sighed, it’s not like he expected a different response. “Welp! Thanks for the help big bro!” He starts to walk to the door but Lucifer stops him with a stern ‘wait’. Mammon turns around, ready to express his frustration but the words die in his mouth as Lucifer hugged him.

“Go have fun Mammon, you deserve it.” Lucifer said fondly before releasing his brother. Mammon was a little shocked, he whispered out a small thank you and headed out in high spirits nevertheless.

“Be sure to come back before curfew or I won’t hesitate to lock both of you outside.”

Note: Basically Mammon being excited to go on a date with MC and Lucifer just happy that his lil bro is happy :p

[whosscruffylooking]

The Purest Things-Damaged

Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader

Warnings: Mentions of rape, murder, and cheating. Canon-typical violence. 

Word Count: 3.7k

A/N: and so we begin our descent into the world of slow-burn! this piece begins at the end of season 3 episode 13 & carries into seasons 3 episode 14. thank you to everyone who has interacted with my stories, commenting and reposting helps creators so much! enjoy this installment :)

The Purest Things Masterlist

Gif Credit: @hqtchner

january 2008

Bookend: “We are all damaged. We have all been hurt. We have all had to learn painful lessons. We are all recovering from some mistake, loss, betrayal, abuse, injustice or misfortune. All of life is a process of recovery that never ends. We each must find ways to accept and move through the pain and to pick ourselves back up....Each tragedy is an announcement that some good will indeed come in time. Be patient with yourself.” ― Bryant McGill

Another day, another murderer locked away. This case proved that sometimes, the so-called "good guys" can be just as selfish as the "bad guys." The special agent who recruited the BAU's help, Jill Morris, used this case to obtain personal fame and grow her career.

You sit next to Rossi aboard the plane. He had a more personal interaction with Morris throughout the case, and you can tell her actions have left him more than disappointed.

Looking out the window at the sun setting behind the clouds, you mumble to yourself, "What's the difference?"

"Did you say something?" Dave speaks up.

Looking to him, you brush it off, "Oh. Nothing. I was just talking to myself."

He crosses his legs and smiles a warm smile at you, "Penny, for your thoughts then."

"I guess...I just don't understand how Jill Morris's motives can be any different from Jeremy Andrus's. Of course, Jill didn't murder or rape anyone. But, she exploited this case for her own personal benefit. She didn't just use the unsub; she exploited the victims as well. How is that any different than Jeremy using women for his own gratification?"

David sighs, "Aristotle said, 'Every practical pursuit or undertaking seems to aim at some good.' Our brains are wired for love and solidarity. Greed forms to undermine that wiring and trick others into believing that their means to an end is done for "good." People believe that to maintain that myth, any and all costs to others are simply casualties in the long run."

"There is all the difference in the world between helping another soul and exploiting their hardship for your own gain and deceiving yourself that they are the same," he continues, "I tried to show Jill that. But, I think she's already determined that the reason she does this job is not for the same reasons that we do. The rush of catching a suspect comes second to the excitement she gets when being praised for her achievement."

"What happened to her empathy," you wonder, "Empathy is a natural foundation in each of our lives, and our society functions on it! How could that not overpower her desire for recognition? I mean, for Christ's sake, her friend just died!"

"Unfortunately," he solemnly says, "It is harder to understand the motives of our peers than it is to profile a serial killer."

+++++

You wake as if there is an emergency, like sleeping had become a deadly thing, your heart pounds, and thoughts jumble throughout your brain. Shooting up from your seat, you crawl over a sleeping Rossi and stumble your way to the bathroom.

Your knuckles turn white as you grip the edge of the sink. Looking cautiously into the mirror, as if you are uncertain of what you'll see, you take in your ghostly appearance. Sweat beads drip down your forehead. Unable to comprehend the blurry remnants of your dream, you turn on the faucet and splash your face with cold water.

Upon exiting the bathroom, you notice everyone is sound asleep. Thank goodness no one noticed your state of panic. You notice that one overhead reading light is on and look to see Hotch awake and blankly staring out the window.

"Can't sleep either?" You ask, sitting across from him.

"Are you alright?" He asks, trying to deflect your attention.

You squint at him, unwilling to back down, "Are you?"

He looks at you intently, taking the sight of you in inch-by-inch. No one has asked him that over the past few weeks. In fact, everyone has seemingly been avoiding him since he was served his divorce papers. Perhaps they are doing it because they are unsure how to support him or genuinely feel that what he needs right now is space.

However, you know that being alone is the last thing he needs right now. "Hotch, I know it isn't my place, and I--I'm sorry if this is overstepping. But that expression on your face that you've worn for the past few weeks isn't foreign to me. Perhaps to everyone else, it is. They don't know what to do or say. You're their unit chief, and they are used to you being strong and keeping it together for the sake of everyone else."

He straightens his posture, his attention centered on you.

"I witnessed firsthand the ways that divorce can torment people. My parents got a sudden divorce when I was 14. It was unexpected to all of us. My father was unfaithful, and although my mom was willing to forgive him, he didn't want to put in the work anymore. He found a new outlet for his frustrations. I watched my mother and father waste away for years," you lament.

Hotch sits on the edge of his seat, his eyes trained keenly on you. It was odd for him to make a connection so quick, to give his trust so easily. In fact, he hardly trusts at all. Dave and Haley are the only ones who have really been given an insider's peek into the mind and heart of Aaron Hotchner. There was something in the way he listens so actively to what you are saying. You would be lying if you said you didn't notice his gaze aimed at your lips.

There is a sympathetic and heartfelt concern he shows for you, one second only to your own regard for him. He listens like he is absorbing your words. The longer you spend in each other's presence, the more you both realize that this is the kind of friendship you both have needed for far too long. Even if the words go unspoken, you share an empathetic understanding of one another, and you are sure it has been there since the day you met. Hotch has been fascinated by you since he watched your interview with Strauss over and over again, though he would never let it be known.

+++++

February 2008

Today is the day that you get to accompany Hotch and Reid on the Criminal Personality Research Project to interview Chester Hardwick before his execution. Hardwick's case is one you know inside and out. You wrote a research report on it that was awarded the Graduate Student Ethics Writing Competition winner for the American Psychological Association and was published in their Ethics and Behavior journal. Agent Hotchner suggested that you tag along, considering you know just as much about the case as Spencer does.

You and Spencer absentmindedly fiddle with the knickknacks that rest upon the desk as you wait to be escorted to see Chester Hardwick.

Hotch's phone begins to ring, and he answers it, "Yeah, J.J... Um, no, it's--It's a personal matter. Yes, thank you. I will take care of it when I get back."

"Everything okay?" You ask softly.

"Yeah, fine." He says abruptly.

"We can do this interview another time," Reid offers.

Aaron huffs, "Well, he is scheduled to be executed next week."

"I can take the lead on the interview if you w-" Reid unintentionally pushes.

You cut him off, "Reid."

Hotch shoots you an appreciative look.

Anytime sir.

"Agent Hotchner?" A relatively short man wearing freakishly petite glasses comes to the door.

The Unit Chief shakes the man's hand and introduces you and Spencer.

"You're here to see our infamous inmate Hardwick," the warden exclaims.

"Yes," you say, "He agreed to meet with us as part of our Criminal Personality Research Project before his execution."

The man smiles widely, "I've read your research on Hardwick many times. I must say, seeing your perspective on the mind of such a prolific killer was very enlightening."

You beam with pride at his commendation. Instinctively you look to Hotch, who appears to have the slight trace of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

You wonder, how can he go from scowling and frustrated one minute to fighting back the urge to smile at the mention of your achievements? You bite your lip to suppress any further needless excitement.

The warden continues to ramble, "Serial killers are kind of a hobby of mine. Chester is the only one I've ever met in person, though. I bet you've met quite a few."

"Sir," Hotch interjects, "We'd very much like to get started as soon as we can."

Time to put our serious pants back on.

You can visibly see your superior's annoyance, and you stifle a chuckle.

The warden quickly composes himself and apologizes for his enthusiasm, touching his hand to Hotch's shoulder in the process. Hotch's mouth falls agape, and his sights shoot to you. A small snort escapes you, and you cover your mouth, attempting to conceal it as a cough. He squints at you as if he is mentally murdering you. You crinkle your nose at him.

Don't mentally murder me when we are about to interview one of the most prolific killers of our time.

The warden leads you into the small cell that you will convert into a makeshift interrogation room. Soon enough, you hear the clanking of chains echoing in the hallway. Everyone's eyesight is fixed on the door.

A silver-haired man dressed in a yellow jumpsuit walks in with an air of arrogance and determination. He glares at Agent Hotchner, who mirrors the prisoner's actions exactly. Hotch states that keeping the prisoner chained will not be necessary, a call that both you and Spencer are unsure of.

Hardwick sits across from you and leans into the table, "I know you."

"And I know you. Too well, I think," you respond.

A menacing grin sweeps across his face, "Oh, I like you already. How about you send these two away so the grown-ups can talk."

You can hear your boss scoff from behind you.

"Chester, it's time to get serious."

"You were born April 4, 1950?" Spencer asks.

"Does my birthday really matter?"

"It's customary for us to start at the beginning. We want to know as much as we can about your childhood," Reid continues.

"There's nothing to know. It was average. I lived in a nice house on a quiet street. I ate cereal, went to school, watched cartoons."

"I don't have time for this," Hotch raises his voice, causing you to jump slightly, "You grew up in a series of projects, each one worse than the last. You spent your teenage years peeping into your female neighbors' windows and burglarizing their underwear drawers when you got the chance. You set 100 small fires for which you spent 2 years in juvenile detention."

You glance at Reid from the corner of your eye; you are both uncomfortable with the direction Hotch is taking this.

"We've done extensive research, Mr. Hardwick," you say, gently trying to soften the blow and appeal to the man's ego. If Hotch is taking the bad cop role, you need to be this psychopath's ally.

"We've talked to almost everyone you've ever known," you continue, "including your mother."

Chester swivels on the balls of his feet, "Good ol' Jean? I'll bet she was a real treat."

"At this point, lying to us isn't really possible or helpful," Spencer offers a slight smirk to the man.

"Y/N, right?" the prisoner turns his attention to you, "They're wrong. They're all wrong."

"About what, Chester?" You implore him.

"I started a lot more than one hundred fires," he peers out the window.

You look up at Hotch, and he sighs in surrender.

Chester antagonizes you three, stating that no one care's whether or not they hear the truth. In between his jabs, he strays to various different series of thoughts. Most are meaningless, but it is his way of trying to get under your skin. For you and Spencer, it is relatively easy to maintain your composure. For Hotch, however, Hardwick's digs do nothing but add fuel to the already lit flame under the special agent.

"Let's talk about the specifics of this case, Chester," you interrupt his rant, "Why did you choose Sheila O'Neal?"

He shakes his head, "You gotta show me a picture. I don't know their names."

As if you can feel Hotch's anger radiating off of his body, you brace yourself for the oncoming strike.

"Is that what this is all about," he says disgustedly, "Some chance for you to relive all of this?"

"I have an excellent memory," Chester brags.

You tune his impassionate speech out and focus your observance on your boss. His scalding stare at Hardwick can only translate one way, 'I have initiated my emotional indifference. I could kill you and not care one bit. So proceed with caution.'

"They were toys, a diversion," you hear Hardwick chant as you tune back into the present. Hotch looks anywhere but at the killer in front of him, his gaze eventually landing you. You are some kind of shelter to him that neither of you has yet acknowledged or come to understand.

Your stomach churns at Chester's descriptions of his victims. He describes them as useless objects that, once their purpose was served, were discarded like garbage.

"Why did you ask us here?" Hotch charges.

The wicked man looks at you, his eyes void of a soul and his stare sending a chill down your veins. 

"I wanted to speak to her." 

Your breath catches at the back of your throat.

With that, Hotch straightens up and fervently positions himself between Chester and you. "Reid, pack it up," he commands.

Reid looks to you, "Are you sure?"

"No, now." Your superior repeats himself with even more fervor. He presses the buzzer to signal the guards to release us and says, "Have a nice trip. You're going where you belong." Hotch makes sure to put as much distance between you and Hardwick as possible. He buzzes the ringer again. No response.

"It's 5:17," Hardwick chuckles.

You close your eyes, the reality of the situation finally sinking in. Reaching out for Hotch's arm, you lower his hand from the buzzer. "The evening yard begins at 5 o'clock. No one is going to come open that door for-"

"At least thirteen minutes," Chester disrupts. He waltzes over the table and takes one of the images of his victims into his hand. Holding it up as if to brag to us about it, he says, "And it took me less than five minutes to do this."

You push aside your worry. Instead, you choose to focus on all of the information you have accumulated over the years about Chester Hardwick. There has to be something you can use to your advantage to diffuse this situation.

"Perhaps in all of your research, you should have familiarized yourselves with the guard tones," Hardwick jeers.

"I heard the tones," Hotch counters in a monotone voice.

"So you planned to be locked inside with me, with no guns or weapons."

Hotch shakes his head, his voice more natural than before, "I won't need a gun."

Spencer places his hand on your arm and begins to guide you to the other side of the room.

"There's no way I am going to be executed next week," Chester taunts, kneading his hands together. "Not after I kill three FBI agents. You saved my life by coming here." His venomous words ring in your ears.

Hotch's tone deepens, "Unfortunately for you, I am not a five-foot-one-hundred-pound girl."

Your pulse quickens at Hotch's threat, and your attention is rapt by his display of dominance. He begins to shed his jacket. You feel yourself flushing; attraction suddenly entangles you as if it were an invisible rope.

Now is the worst possible time to be feeling this. Calm down.

"All of your life, you've gone after victims who couldn't fight back," he fiercely says, "and the rest of the time you spent looking over your shoulder." You understand the intensity in his tone and sense a great deal of emotion behind his words.

He rips his tie from his collar, and your breathing hitches in the back of your throat. Hopefully, Spencer doesn't notice, and if he does, he chalks it up to the deadly situation you find yourself in.

"You were always worried about the knock on the door," Hotch doesn't back down, "Scared that somebody like me would be on the other side waiting to put you away."

Well, if you keep ripping your tie off like th--no. Not gonna go there right now. Focus on the pyshco-killer threatening to kill you.  

Now, Hotch intimidatingly points his finger directly at Hardwick.

If only I were on the receiving end of tha--no! Now. Is. Not. The. Time.

"At your core, you are a coward," Hotch fires.  

You have to do something. Hardwick is enraged, and Hotch has nothing left to lose.

Without even giving it a second thought, you blurt out, "Chester, do you want to know why you killed those women?"

"What?" The prisoner hisses.

Spencer speaks up, "Earlier, you said you wished you were different. We can tell you why you are...what you are."

He begins moving towards you, and out of the corner of your eye, you notice your boss carefully making equal strides. You motion for him to stop.

"You can tell me why I did what I did?"

"I think so," you nod, "Don't you, Dr. Reid?"

"I do. Your mother is bipolar. And almost certainly an undifferentiated schizophrenic. Your father suffered severe shell shock in the war, what we now refer to as Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. As far as I can tell, he remained clinically depressed the rest of his life."

"Exactly," you say, giving Spencer a chance to gather his thoughts after having thrown him under the bus.

"53% of all serial killers have some form of mental illness inherent to their families. Chester, in your case, both of your parents suffered from psychological disorders, which they essentially took out on each other as much as they beat you. So, violence sort of became a normal expression of love in your household," you say, eager to have some kind of breakthrough with him while subliminally directing Spencer's string of thoughts to follow yours.

Allowing Reid to pick up where you leave off, he takes charge of the conversation and explains how a portion of one's brain wants what it wants without conscience or judgment. A part of the brain that no doubt took over Hotch's reasoning powers moments ago, though you do not blame him.

"Earlier, you said your victims never had a chance. I think you know deep down that it was you that never really had a chance," he concludes. And with that victorious resolution, the guards unlock the door. Hotch storms out, and Reid follows behind.

"Is that true that I never had the chance?" Hardwick calls out after you both.

You stop in your tracks, "I don't know."

"Maybe," Spencer nudges you out the door.

++++

In the car, Hotch looks at you in the rearview mirror, "That was smart to get Hardwick to focus on himself long enough for the guards to come back."

You pat Spencer's shoulder, "I give all the credit to boy wonder and his beautiful statistic-filled brain. I'm sorry for all of the times I said you were running out of storage with all of that useless data."

"I find that I do some of my best work under intense terror," he declares, "Wait. Useless data? When did you say that?"

You pinch him softly and chuckle, "I'm kidding."

"I'm sorry," Hotch sighs.

You meet his gaze in the mirror once again, "For what?"

His chestnut eyes reveal pangs of remorse and guilt, but something tells you there's more to those feelings than what occurred at the prison.

"I antagonized the situation."

"No, you didn't," Spencer states.

"I certainly didn't help."

"Well, I can't argue with you there," you kid.

His piercing eyes suddenly twinkle, causing you to blush slightly. You quickly look down at your feet until your cheeks cool down.

Hotch sighs in defeat, "So Haley wants me to sign the divorce papers uncontested so that nobody wastes money on lawyers."

That statement is all too familiar to you. Yet again, your heart shatters for the Hotchners.

"You don't want to?" Spencer asks innocently.

He means well, but you know from experience that such a question only unleashes a tidal wave of painful emotions for the one fighting for his family.

"What I want, I'm not going to get," Hotch laments.

His eyes, once filled with depth, now distant and empty.

++++

Glancing up from your paperwork and into your supervisor's office, you take note of his gravity-drawn shoulders that carry the weight of the world on them. He repeatedly picks up a stack of papers and then drops them back down atop his desk, covering his face with his hands.

"What do you think is going on up there?" Derek asks, pointing his pen in the direction of the office.

"I might have an idea. I'm going to go take my report; anyone else's done?" They all hand you their paperwork for you to deliver to the boss.

You hesitate to knock on his door but apprehensively do so anyways.

He invites you in. Your heart sinks as you approach his desk, able to get a closer look at his beaten expression. You always knew he was hiding pain behind his tough exterior, but now he wears it on the surface, most likely unintentionally.

Placing the paperwork on his desk, you notice the heading on the papers he was gripping tightly.

SUPREME COURT STATE OF VIRGINIA: MARITAL SETTLEMENT AGREEMENT

Hotch's eyes move slowly, laboriously, to look at you as if it takes a concentrated effort to do so.

"Heartache is a real thing," you sympathize with him, "In fact, Reid even told me that a broken heart can show up on medical scans. When a heart breaks, your body and brain need time to recuperate. There's no set amount of time or remedy that will heal you. Don't set your expectations of yourself too high, and surround yourself with the people who love you."

His chin trembles, and his eyes flutter as he blinks back tears.

You turn to leave the room but look over your shoulder one last time, "We are all here for you, Hotch."

Just as you are about to shut the door, you hear him call out to you, "Y/L/N!"

His stare reveals a vulnerability you have had yet to see in him.

"Call me Aaron."

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[thedragonnerd]

we forgive ourselves last

‘We’re not going to give her a choice,’ she says, and the underlying threat is clear enough to Namaari that her blood runs cold.

‘What are you going to do?’

‘That’s no longer your concern, my love,’ Ma rests a hand on her shoulder, fully in the role of Chief now. ‘You’ve done enough.’

The finality of her words is obvious, but as Namaari watches her walk away, all she can think is: maybe I’ve done too little.

Read on ao3, or under the cut!

Namaari doesn’t allow the royal army to slow down for the entire ride from Spine back to Fang, pushing them through the night. Her mind remains in turmoil over what she has just witnessed, the logical side of her in disbelief over the fact she saw a genuine dragon, alive and in the flesh, roaring so loudly that her battle-hardened warriors staggered back in fear. The magical fog still lingers in the distance, obscuring the pathway that lies behind them.

Deep in her heart however, she knows it to be true. She knows that it was Sisudatu herself who stood before her, that it was Sisudatu who stared directly into her eyes and through to her soul. Guilt has always been an unwelcome companion for Namaari, following her through life and scratching at her brain whenever she sees a new face turned to stone. It now rears its ugly head again, as she fears what Sisu saw within.

She arrives to the Fang Palace several moments before the rest of her warriors, slipping down from her serlot’s back and striding ahead even as she hears the others come clattering to a halt behind her.

‘Mother! We need to talk!’ Namaari calls out, bowing her head and raising her hands in the appropriate gesture of respect; her distraction and growing enthusiasm over seeing Sisu making her forget to say “Chief Virana” in front of Fang citizens.

Her mother has been entertaining small children, and they all look to Namaari in undisguised delight.

‘It’s Princess Namaari!’ she hears a small voice exclaim, and then they are bowing and crowding around her even as her mother is gently ushering them away.

‘Alright, alright…now run along, kittens,’ her mother commands. Namaari allows herself a moment to wave and smile at them before her attention is directed straight back on topic with her mother’s next words. ‘I have to speak with the Princess.’

‘Mother, you won’t believe what I saw,’ she says, the excitement creeping into her voice at last. If Sisu really has returned, she would be able to save everyone, to fix what has been broken for so many years. And maybe, just maybe, the era of dragons could exist again. The child-like wonder that she always feels when she reflects on dragons for too long is beginning to awaken inside her.

‘You saw a dragon,’ Ma says, and the excitement inside Namaari dies at once in the face of her mother’s disapproval. ‘General Atitaya informed me that you’d be returning home without the gem pieces.’

The rebuke is clear.

‘It was Sisu,’ Namaari tries, desperate for her to understand. ‘She can fix what we broke – she can bring everyone back.’

We can undo my mistakes, and maybe I can be free of this guilt, she thinks, but dares not say out loud.

‘And that’s what scares me!’ Ma says, banging her staff on the ground. The Dragon Gem piece glitters in the sunlight. ‘When everyone comes back, who do you think they’ll come for? You forget; the other lands blame us for what’s happened.’

‘But we…We never meant for anyone to get hurt,’ Namaari says, and yet the reasoning sounds weak to her own ears. The image of the different leaders fighting over the Dragon Gem springs unbidden into her mind, as does Raya’s look of devastation as it smashed to the floor. Another wave of guilt hits her, and she is reminded of Sisu’s unspoken judgement.

‘Yes, but if we had the dragon and the Gem pieces, we would be forgiven. We could save the world,’ Ma continues. ‘But more importantly, our people would remain safe.’

It sounds tempting, so tempting. If they had Sisu and the completed Dragon Gem, they could save all the lands and be heroes. No more would Namaari have to see stone people in her nightmares, no more would she have to tell another Fang family that their loved one has been caught by the Druun on one of their expeditions. Perhaps even Raya could forgive her, in time. And yet…

‘But Raya isn’t just going to give Sisu to us,’ Namaari argues, and her mother sighs deeply.

‘We’re not going to give her a choice,’ she says in response, and the underlying threat is clear enough to Namaari that her blood runs cold.

‘What are you going to do?’

‘That’s no longer your concern, my love,’ Ma rests a hand on her shoulder, fully in the role of Chief now. ‘You’ve done enough.’

The finality of her words is obvious, but as Namaari watches her walk away, all she can think is: maybe I’ve done too little.

--

Later, Namaari sits on her bed and broods. Her heart is torn in two, and she cannot decide which path to take. She is desperate to save her people, first and foremost, and yet the best route to achieve that is unclear.

On one hand, her mother’s concern has awoken the same fears inside her. Even before the breaking of the Gem, Fang was perceived as a harsh land of assassins and warriors, cutthroat in business and too proud to interact much with the other lands. It’s never mattered that all the leaders had a hand in the destruction of the Gem. Everyone remembers the ‘greed’ of Fang in targeting what they thought was Heart’s source of prosperity, and the rest has slipped from people’s minds. Now, they are pariahs, a land which has survived better than most during the Druun reign due to its willingness to stand alone and close its doors as much as possible. If they don’t have direct involvement in saving the world, then when everyone returns, they could be pushed aside even more. Trade could cease to exist, and along with that comes a risk of famine and poverty. Namaari never wants her people to see those dark times again.

On the other hand, Namaari fears what her mother has in plan for Raya. She knows the other girl will never back down from a fight, and even less so if she has Sisu, the other Gem pieces, and clearly some sort of plan.

At the end of the day, she knows Raya is coming for her – or at least for Fang. There is one Gem piece left, and it sits within her mother’s staff. At the same time, Raya could be walking into what could end up being a deadly trap.

For the last six years, Namaari has lived with the guilt of what she has done to Raya, in a more deeply personal sense than her responsibility for the rest of the world. She isn’t sure she could survive being to blame for even more tragedy to befall Raya.

Just then, an animal screech comes from outside her window. Whirling around, she sees a small package dropped onto the windowsill, along with a note, although the messenger themselves is nowhere in sight, no matter how much she peers around.

She unfurls the note first, but it is little more than a crude map, with a small ‘x’ marking a spot on the riverbank across from the Palace. She can already guess who it is from, but unwrapping the package to reveal her childhood pendant confirms her suspicions.

She stands by the window, her mind at last resolved.

--

Dawn is breaking by the time she reaches the place at the riverbank marked out by Raya, but the others are not yet there. Her heart is pounding in her chest, and her hand is clammy as it clutches the piece of Dragon Gem she has stolen from her mother’s staff.

The fact that her mother lies there asleep and unprotected weighs heavily, but she is determined to see this through. If they are successful, if Sisu can really bring back everyone, then they will never have to worry about the Druun again, and her betrayal can be forgiven – or so she hopes.

She holds the Dragon pendant in her other hand, reminding her why she has really come. It keeps her grounded whenever she feels the desire to bolt back to the Palace and agree to her mother’s plan instead.

‘I see you got my gift,’ a soft voice breaks through her thoughts. It is strange not to go directly for a weapon, but Namaari allows herself to appreciate the sight of Raya standing in front of her with a small smile on her face instead. It’s been so long since they last had a conversation without it ending in a fight, and even longer still since Raya looked at her with any sort of a welcoming expression.

‘I never thought I’d see this again,’ she feels herself say, and her own voice sounds far, far away. Raya shrugs a shoulder awkwardly.

‘Well, uh…I tried to take good care of it,’ she says. ‘You’re not the only dragon nerd here.’

They gaze at each other for a moment, and Namaari emits a slight chuckle, before becoming serious. The time is now or never – no going back once she has taken this next step.

She places the Gem piece on the ground, and accepts her fate. Raya nods, an understanding passing between them, and then her concentration is broken by the arrival of none other than Sisudatu herself.

Namaari bends low into a bow, raising her hands in respect. The awe of seeing a dragon in front of her for a second time is not lessened in any way, and as she straightens up, Sisu smiles back at her. She can’t help but tuck her hair behind her ear self-consciously, hoping this time that Sisu will see something better in her than before, will see that she is trying to atone for her mistakes.

‘The final piece,’ she hears Sisu say, and then Raya is reaching down to open her bag.

‘Raya,’ Namaari finds her voice again. ‘Raya, I came her to warn you also. My mother-’

‘Is very proud of her daughter,’ her mother announces, and the sound of many crossbows being loaded rings out in the clearing. A large group of Fang warriors emerge from the forest, dragging Raya’s companions with them, Chief Virana leading the way. Namaari’s breath catches in her throat.

‘I must thank you, Morning Mist, for bringing us straight to the Dragon Gem and to Sisu herself.’

‘You tricked us?’ Raya asks, her voice shaking. It is a flashback to six years ago – Raya looking upon Namaari with utter betrayal and disgust.

‘No Raya, I-’ Namaari tries to choke out, but Raya turns away, two red blotches on her cheeks showing just how angry she feels.

‘Take the rest of the Gem pieces,’ her mother commands, and just as Namaari expected, Raya draws her sword immediately, stepping in front of Sisu.

‘If you want Sisu or the Gem pieces, you’ll have to go through me first,’ she calls out, her voice strong despite being outnumbered. The large man dressed in Spine clothing is already beginning to fight his captivity, and all at once there is chaos as the yelling starts and a brawl breaks out between Raya’s companions and some Fang warriors. The rest stay focused on Raya and Sisu, clearly reluctant to shoot towards the dragon but unsure how to carry out their Chief’s order.

Through all the shouting and fighting, a voice reaches out to Namaari.

‘I believe you,’ Sisu says, and the dragon is staring at her with a soft and open expression. ‘Namaari, I believe you came to help us.’

The tears rush unbidden to Namaari’s eyes, and she takes a shuddering breath at those words, barely able to believe what she has heard. Hope is blossoming from her chest, that she can help resolve this misunderstanding and endless cycle of mistrust.

And then Namaari watches it all happen as if in slow motion. General Atitaya’s crossbow raises slightly, wavering towards Sisu, and her finger twitches on the trigger. Raya notices in the same instance, striking out with her sword and knocking the soldier’s hand.

The crossbow swings back towards Raya, and there is a small click as the arrow breaks free, shooting straight and true towards its target. Namaari watches it aim directly for Raya’s heart, Sisu’s words still ringing in her mind.

And then she steps forward, and feels the arrow pierce her skin.

--

‘…maari? Namaari?’

Someone is calling her name.

She feels very cold through her entire body, except where there are two warm arms wrapped around her. It is difficult to open her eyes, and the darkness seems far more welcoming. She lets her mind drift slightly.

‘Namaari, wake up!’ The person is now shaking her shoulders, causing a pain to rip down her left side. It startles her into opening her eyes properly, where she has to blink away water droplets. Rain pours down around them, and when she shifts her head slightly, her cheek comes into contact with Raya’s chest.

‘Raya, the rain isn’t going to hold them back forever,’ Sisu’s voice calls from afar. ‘They’re gathering in number…I think they were attracted by the fighting.’

It takes a few moments for the meaning of the words to sink into Namaari’s brain, and when she focuses on something other than the pain, she can hear the unearthly howls above the rain. The druun are here.

‘Namaari, we have to get you to the doctor,’ Raya is saying, looking down at her with large, worried eyes and damp hair plastered to her skin. One of her hands is trembling slightly, as she raises it to Namaari’s face, and her fingers are smeared with blood.

She has never looked so pretty to Namaari before.

‘I can take her back to the Palace,’ Ma says, and she realises her mother is kneeling down on her other side, clutching her hand and disregarding the mud smeared across her white clothing. ‘Give me back a piece of the Gem so I can get us there!’

‘You won’t make it through the Druun,’ Raya snaps back. ‘Let me take her and Sisu…we’ll travel faster.’

Namaari lets the sound of their disagreement wash over her. The pain is becoming stronger now, and breathing is difficult. Even if they get her back to the palace, she is not sure there is anything to be done. She’s so tired.

But maybe that is the point, a voice whispers in her mind. It is the same voice that has plagued her nightmares all these last years. You were the one who broke the world. You were the one who brought this hatred and distrust to your people, to Raya. Maybe your ending can fix it.

‘I’m not going anywhere,’ she whispers through numb lips. Raya and her mother break off their argument to look down at her.

‘Morning Mist, you don’t have much time,’ Ma says, stroking her hair. Raya grunts in acknowledgement, and unwraps an arm from around Namaari’s shoulders to slide it under her legs. But before she can be lifted, Namaari raises a weak hand and knocks her back.

‘I’m not going anywhere until you put the Gem back together,’ she insists, trying to sound firm even as her strength is failing her. She isn’t sure that this will be enough, that their concern for her will be enough. But she plays the only card she has to left to play, and lays down her ultimatum anyway. ‘Save everyone, Raya. I believe in you.’

Raya loosens her grip slightly, clearly unsure what to do. Then suddenly, Sisu is there, dropping Fang’s piece of the Gem next to them.

‘You heard Namaari! Let’s fix this big ball of power, save the world, and then get our girl the medical attention she needs!’

Namaari feels herself being transferred gently from Raya’s arms to her mother’s lap, but the movement still makes her cry out in pain.

Raya glances her way once more, and nods in determination. She gathers the Gem pieces into her hands, slotting them together into a perfect orb once more. A bright glow seeps through her fingers, and the last thing Namaari sees before darkness takes her is Raya, lit with an ethereal blue light from the Dragon Gem.

--

When Namaari next awakens, she is in her own bed. The blankets are warm, her body is in considerably less pain, and Raya is curled up on the other side of her mattress.

Wait, what?

‘Raya?’ she croaks, her throat dry, but it is enough to disturb the sleeping figure, who sits upright with a start.

‘You’re awake? How are you feeling? I mean, I guess probably pretty bad considering you were shot by a crossbow,’ she rambles, a hand awkwardly patting her hair. Namaari laughs at her softly, and then can’t help but wince as the movement causes her wound to throb ominously. Raya leans over to hold a glass of water to her lips, and she manages to swallow a few mouthfuls.

‘Did it work?’ she has to know. She wants to see with her own eyes, but can tell she won’t be leaving this bed for a while. ‘Is your father back?’

Raya looks at her for a long moment.

‘Yes, it worked,’ she says finally, and a smile breaks out across her face. ‘Everyone has returned. Ba is in fact downstairs right now…I think him and your mother are trying to write a hundred trade deals at once. And he’s demanding a celebration for the return of Kumandra.’

Relief hits Namaari all at once, making her feel slightly dizzy and sick. She tries to subtly turn her head so Raya can’t see the tears in her eyes.

‘Of course, it would have also worked if we had waited until AFTER we got some binturi to the doctor,’ Raya adds suddenly, her voice taking on a disapproving tone. ‘Why did you insist we fix the Gem first? The doctors said another ten minutes, and maybe…’

She trails off, but Namaari understands the end of the sentence. Another ten minutes, and you might not have survived.

‘I wasn’t sure if I would make it anyway,’ she confesses, staring up at the ceiling rather than look Raya in the eyes. ‘And I wanted to make sure I made up for my mistakes before I died.’

Raya is quiet for a moment. Namaari can feel the bed shift slightly as she lays down next to her and rests her head back on a pillow.

‘It wasn’t just your mistake to atone for,’ Raya says eventually. It sounds like forgiveness. ‘I hope you’ll see that one day.’

Her hand slowly shuffles across the covers, and Namaari inhales slightly when she feels their fingers entwine.

They lie there together in silence, watching the sun rise on Kumandra through the window.

[straydawg-writing]

𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞'𝐬 𝐚 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐦.

- 𝓚. 𝙯𝙤𝙡𝙙𝙮𝙘𝙠

• hunter x hunter series

⋯✰⋯

Chapter 2–

You knew that if anyone outside of this car saw you right now, you might just pass away. To put it simply: You were sitting on Killua's lap.

All because Kite's truck only fit seven people.

The way this predicament came about would have been comical if it weren't for your burning embarrassment. Unfortunately, you could remember very clearly how it all unfolded:

"Hmm, it seems that there aren't enough seats for all eight of us, so one person will have to squish in," Kite said, opening the car door to check the seats.

"Who's the smallest one here?" Gon asked. All seven pairs of eyes turned to look at you.

Great. The benefits of never having had your growth spurt.

Killua was the one to open his mouth, snickering, "Obviously it's Y/N. She's like a midget!"

"Killua, you are literally an entire 2 ½ feet shorter than Kite over there," you defended yourself.

From a distance, you had guessed Kite was around 6'3. Once you got a closer look at him, you discovered that he towered over you like a skyscraper. Your curiosity got the best of you and naturally, you had asked him what his height was. The man was a whopping 7 foot 10.

"It's okay Y/N, you can squish with me," Gon offered.

Killua shook his head. "No way. Squishing will just make everyone uncomfortable. It's better if only one person suffers. Y/N, you can sit on my lap."

He had left no room for argument. Sighing, you knew that even if you tried, you had no say in this anymore. You would just have to suck it up for the next 4 hours.

Now you were here, sitting on him, worrying about whether you were cutting the circulation off to his legs or not. Or perhaps you were too bony and it was hurting him.

You could feel his warm breath on your neck, and it sent goosebumps across your entire body. This was beyond awkward.

"Stop it," Killua muttered, right in your ear.

Oh, you'd done it now, hadn't you? Killua was gonna push you off onto Gon instead.

"Stop what?"

"You're so stiff, just...relax," he paused, "I don't mind sitting this way."

Hearing his voice so close to you sent butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

Maybe this was okay.

You untensed, trying to adjust yourself to a more comfortable position, but the bumpy car ride wasn't making it very easy. Kite ran over a rock, and without a seatbelt it sent you jerking upwards. Thanks to his fast reflexes, Killua gripped your waist, holding you tightly to his body.

"The seatbelt won't reach over the both of us, but this'll keep you from flying."

"Heh, thanks Killua. I think we should reach the beach in a bit..." you said, hoping that the thought of it being over soon might offer him some relief.

It doesn't matter who it is, being this close to someone could send anyone into a frenzy. You were hyper-aware of every one of his fingers grasping onto your waist. He wasn't lying. He was keeping you right there.

You'd just have to stop thinking about it, you told yourself. Or else you'd go crazy.

Trying to relax back into Killua like he had asked, you let your mind wander to the reason you were driving in the first place. The day before, the three of you had decided to stick with Kite and help him investigate the Chimera ants. The beach you were headed to now is supposed to have a clue about where the ant queen is located, so you could bring an end to the destruction before it starts. During the car ride, you had learned they were a truly deadly species. One bite of an innocent passerby, and they had the means to bring the entire human race to extinction.

You felt like something was starting. And your intuition was rarely wrong.

Gazing at Gon who had been talking with Kite for a while now, you noticed how his eyes crinkle into little smiles whenever he talks. You knew that having Kite around, his father's best friend, surely excited him to the bone. Gon was just oozing with optimism, without even trying. You could tell that just by being himself, he was keeping the spirits up of all eight in the group, not allowing any room for doubt or fear to creep into anyone's minds.

At that moment, you swore that whatever happened, you would be there to protect Gon and Killua. Even if it costs you everything.

Hopefully, this wasn't one of your friends' last few moments of tranquility. But if it was, you were determined to spend it well.

Resting your head against Killua, you hoped that he wouldn't mind if you indulged in this for just a moment. You were tired, having not gotten much rest since completing Greed Island and meeting Kite.

It didn't take much time for you to fall asleep to the rise and fall of Killua's steady breathing and his sweet vanilla scent. If you'd been awake, you might have even heard his heartbeat racing beneath you.

⋯✰⋯

You had finally reached the beach.

Killua had nudged you awake once you'd gotten there. You remembered how his blue eyes stared back at you as he poked your face, calling you an idiot for falling asleep, and you chuckled.

There was one thing you were clueless about; Killua had made sure not to move even once the whole rest of the car ride. He was nervous that he might disturb your peacefully sleeping form.

You were still pretty groggy as you looked out at the sea, the bright sun reflecting on the ocean's surface. You wanted to wiggle your toes in the sand, but you were there for a reason. To find anything that might lead to the Queen.

You searched in bushes, behind rocks, under seashells, and even used your nen to sift through as much sand as you could. So far, the group had ruled out the forest and deemed it difficult to know if the ant even ended up on the same island. That's when they decided to release the hellhound. Well- it wasn't a hellhound. It was the little dog you played with yesterday. Along with Gon.

Gon was following behind the dog on all floors, sniffing the ground as he went.

"He can do that?" You asked no one in particular.

"His nose is as sharp as a dog's," Killua responded, watching Gon with an amused look in his eye.

A couple minutes went by with no luck. The only thing the dog had found was a tree to pee on. It looked like the ant wasn't going to be on this island, though Kite had an idea.

"It may have washed ashore somewhere else. Which direction do the currents flow here?" Kite asked the two that had brought us down to the beach. One was short with brown skin and grey hair that sprouted up like hay, while the other had large glasses and two front teeth poking out from his mouth.

"The direction is reversed between day and night. And it also changes with the seasons. I've even heard it's different on certain days. So it'll be tough to pinpoint a location..." said Chipmunk Teeth. That's what you'd call him, since you hadn't gotten his name.

So basically, no one had any idea on how to find the Chimera Ant Queen.

"Continuing to search blindly is pointless. We should return to YorkNew and see if we can find any new leads there."

You heard the group around you agreeing with Kite. He and his friends began walking back to the truck already, but you stayed put. You would catch up to them later.

The ocean reminded you of your home. You thought you should say goodbye to it first.

Ripples of water lapped gently at your feet. You always had a connection with nature. Having lived in a small village located in the middle of a jungle most of your life, the earth had become your dearest friend. One of your earliest memories was from exploring the coves back at home. You stretched out your arm across the water, and watched the liquid softly rise to your hand as you called it.

That's why you chose this nen ability. It tied you to the elements. When you fought with it, together you were one body.

"Y/N, come on! Kite's threatening to leave without you," Gon waved you over. Taking one last look at the sea, you turned away.

The sun was already setting by the time you left for the city.

⋯✰⋯

Going back to YorkNew was the right decision. Now you all knew where to look.

Kite had discovered that the possibilities of the Chimera Ant landing in NGL were the highest. Apparently, NGL was a country populated with people who wanted to get away from machine civilization and live in nature.

You loved nature too, but you thought that was a little extreme. There was a reason you had to leave your beloved jungle behind.

"There may very well be a giant swarm of Chimera Ants already hunting humans down. If that's the case, my top priority will be saving them. You must be able to protect yourselves," Kite warned us.

"And if I am the one in trouble, you should escape without me."

At that, Gon and Killua looked unsettled. But backing down now was not an option.

"Got it," you said, breaking the silence and offering a kind nod to Kite, "and until the very last moment, the three of us will have your back."

"Yeah!" The other two boys concurred.

Now, you sat with Gon and Killua on an airship to NGL. The three of you were sitting on a bench, looking out of a window that framed velvet-peach clouds displaying brilliant silver linings.

Gon was reflecting on their last conversation with Kite.

"You said that Ging had a reason for bringing me and Kite together," he rested his arms and head on the window-frame.

Killua broke his sight from the clouds and looked at Gon.

"Yeah, I did."

"You're probably right. I don't know the reason, but I can't give up halfway, no matter what's going on. Otherwise, I'll disappoint Ging... And I'd never be able to forgive myself either. So I won't run away," Gon continued, resolved with his decision.

There was a moment of silence as the three of you let his words sink in.

You admired Gon's determination, but you hated that Ging had a son risking his life just to avoid disappointing a dad he's never met.

"Man, you had this totally serious expression, so I was expecting something big. But it's just business as usual," Killua smiled.

"Huh?" Gon's mouth hung open. "I thought about this a lot, I even ran a bunch of mental simulations! And I liked what Y/N said earlier, about having Kite's back until the very end."

"Think all you want, but you'll still be Gon. If someone said to abandon them, you'd never do it," You lightly punched his shoulder.

He pouted, cradling where you hit him, and you rolled your eyes.

"Drama queen."

Gon chose to ignore that and turned back to Killua. "Then what would you do?'"

"I'm a spontaneous guy, so I'd think about it once the time comes."

"So, you'd run away?" Gon questioned.

"Depends. I can't say until it actually happens."

"Say for instance..."

Killua threw his hands up, beat, "I can't tell you what I'd do in a hypothetical situation!"

"Then, what about you Y/N?"

"Gon!" You whined.

Truth be told, you hadn't thought about what you would do. It depended like Killua said. But you did know one thing...

"I would never leave you two behind. Even if that meant I'd have to die."

⋯✰⋯

[allie-and-her-fandoms]

The Joy of A Fae

A/N: Hello guys. After 6 months, I am back with a new fic celebrating White Day AND Elaine's birthday (I might be a bit rusty though). This is only part one, and I intend to upload the next, STEAMIER part by the end of the next week. Anyway... enjoy, or endure!

---

The morning rays shyly entered the room, wrapping Elaine in a warm embrace. When they kissed her eyes, she started blinking and sat up on the bed, her hand instinctively looking looking for her beloved, who unlike most times, was not to be found in the cradle they had been sharing for months.

Worrying thoughts began to start wandering in Elaine’s mind, but as soon as they arrived, they left when she heard the sound of a pan coming from their kitchen. Which meant that either a thief decided they wanted to try their luck, or that The Fox’s Sin of Greed had a project in progress.

Without hesitation, Elaine’s wings carried her towards her destination, as her nose picked the scent of the air. Vanilla and fruits enveloped the entire house with their fragrance, and it got only stronger with every flapping of her wings. And the second she reached the threshold, Elaine was welcomed by an intriguing sight.

Over a counter, Ban dripped some vanilla extract, followed by him energetically stirring a rather thick liquid with a whisk. After a few seconds, his fingers reached for a teaspoon that he soon dipped in the liquid and raised it to his mouth, tasting its content. “Mhm, still missing a bit sugar,” he muttered in a melodious voice, as he reached for a jade-colored jar and started humming. Behind him, there were two plates filled with chocolates; one was filled with heart-shaped ruby chocolates, and the other was home to animal-shaped white ones. But Elaine’s eyes were not on the chocolates, but on the one who made them – more exactly, on what he was wearing.

An apron covered his torso and ended right above the knees, leaving the back uncovered. His muscular arms were not constrained by clothing, and his bottom was covered by a pair of ankle-length crimson red pants. Distracted by the sight in front of her, Elaine failed to notice that the humming had stopped, alongside the stirring. Before the blink of an eye, Ban’s silhouette left her eyesight, and before she could wonder where he went, she felt a strong yet gentle grip on her waist.

“Gotcha!” Ban hummed, as his right hand circled Elaine’s petite frame. “Didya think you can sneak up on me without me noticing? Or did you just enjoy the view?” he started teasing her, earning a muffled squeal from his beloved.

“I-It wasn’t that!” Elaine protested. “It just- When I woke up, you weren’t there. What are you doing here? What is with all the chocolate?” she asked Ban, her arms now resting on his.

“Don’t tell me you forgot,” Ban stated, surprise in his voice. “Did you really forget what today is?”

“Eh? Is there a holiday today?” this reply earned an indignated scream for Ban.

“You did not! You are just doing it to mess with me!” Elaine freed herself from Ban’s embrace, now facing him. As his ruby gaze insersected with her golden one, Elaine could hear his thoughts: “Is she trying to make a joke?”

“I am not kidding, Ban.” she replied and started frowning, and those words earned a disappointed look from him.

“Don’t tell me you forgot about your own birthday, Elaine!”

“Oh…” Elaine’s frown vanished, as her eyes widened and her left hand covered her mouth.

“Yep. Wanted to surprise ya a bit, so I woke up a bit earlier today,” Ban explained, leaning towards Elaine and removing her hand from her now closed mouth, covering it with his lips. Elaine deepened the kiss, which made Ban hum as his right hand found its way to her head, drawing her even closer.

After both were left breathless, blood red met topaz once again and Elaine felt two hands cupping her face ever so gently, feeling herself melting under Ban’s loving gaze.

“Happy birthday, Elaine,” he voiced, his mouth being immediately covered by Elaine’s, which he reciprocated in an instant, for his flame of passion would only start growing stronger with every touch, every word murmured, every memory engraved in his brain.

“Happy birthday to me, indeed,” Elaine chuckled. “Ban?”

“Hmm?”

“Why is there so much chocolate though?”

“Ah!” Ban beamed. “Cap’n told me about this the other day - it’s called White Day, and it’s some sort of reversed Valentine’s Day; the guys get to give chocolate to the ones they love. And since it is both White Day and your birthday, thought I should pamper ya a bit more.” he winked, earning a blush from Elaine, which made the corners of his mouth reach his ears.

“Oh! Thank you so much, Ban. Now, if you don’t mind…” she turned his back to him, and flew towards the chocolate plates, where she picked a little rosy heart. Before it could touch her lips however, the tiny chocolate was no longer between her fingers. When she turned around, she heard Ban’s boisterous laugh, as he held the little pink heart between his own fingers.

“BAN!” Elaine let out an exasperated scream. “Give it to me, please! I really want to taste it!”

“Oh? You wanna taste it so badly? Come and take it, then.” he hummed, the chocolate no longer between his fingers, but between his lips.

This caused Elaine’s blush to extend from her cheeks, until every inch of her face turned the shade of Ban’s eyes. However, determined to get the sweet treat back, Elaine flapped her wings and flew past Ban before he could register what had happened. “It looks that I got it, Ban,” she giggled at the expression adorning his face. “It melted a bit though,” she added, as she bit into the chocolate, the melted part painting her lips rose.

“It’s delicious!” Elaine squealed in delight. “Ban, you should try one too! They are fantastic! You’ve outdone yourself!” she completed, gleeful giggles leaving her lips.

“Oh, I will…” Ban murmured, stepping closer towards Elaine. Before she could react, Ban leaned in for a kiss. He then took a step back and licked his lips, now also adorned with liquid blush.

“My favorite taste,” he hummed out loud, the tip of his tongue out.

“BAN!” Elaine shrieked, blood rushing through every inch of her body frantically. Her reaction earned another round of mischievous laughter from her beloved.

---

After breakfast, during which Elaine had tried her best to be unapproachable (and had failed miserably) - which made Ban pepper her cheeks with kisses and embrace her until all the anger dissipated – the two lovers moved to the living room, where their mouths and hands decided to once again explore each other’s bodies. After a round of passionate kisses, Elaine rested gently on Ban’s now bare chest, as Ban let his weight drop on the couch.

The silence filled the room and after a few seconds, Ban tilted his head and saw Elaine blush and frown at the same time; an expression he rarely saw on her face.

“You okay?” he asked, caressing her back between her wings. Elaine quickly stood up, leaving Ban confused.

“Ban…” blood painted Elaine’s face scarlet once again.

“Hey,” Ban stood up as well. “What is wrong?” he asked, with concern palpable in his voice. Elaine hesitated, but she soon let out a sigh.

“I-I want to try something, but I don’t know if you would be okay with that…” she replied, refusing to look at Ban’s face.

“Does it involve you getting hurt? ‘Cause if so, I’m not doing it!” he argued.

“No, no no no. It’s just… I want to try something with you… when we’re alone…” Elaine blushed once again. “But it might be a bit too much for you, and I do not want to do it!” her words boomed between the four walls, leaving Ban shocked and confused. His expression soon softened, as he cupped her cheek.

“As long as it’s you, I can take on anything,” he whispered, his forehead touching hers, and a loving look sent her way. “I would do anything for you, Elaine.”

“Are you sure about that, Ban?”

“I am,” he nodded. “Besides,” he took Elaine’s hand and gave it a gentle grip, “I kinda wanna know what you have in mind. Now I’m really excited!” he cheered, earning a playful eyeroll and a couple of chuckles from Elaine. She led Ban to their bedroom, where she would start to discover a new side of him.

[words-with-wren]

what is grief if not love enduring?

not me blasting sad songs and writing for an hour before retreating to youtube to watch animatics of funny bits to Cope.

The last part was written very soon after Tommy’s stream, the rest was written after the streams yesterday/before Tubbo’s one today.

Basically me just being emo and writing everyone’s pain!

______

The corridor of the prison stretched into darkness but Sam didn’t stop moving. His grip was tight around the trident he held, his pace brisk and quick and sharp. He moved down one long, endless hall, and then another, and then another. 

    How long he had paced through the cold, dark halls he wasn’t sure. Again and again, looking for clues he knew he wasn’t going to find. Sometimes he dove into the dark depths of the water surrounding the prison (the tomb). Sometimes he ventured into the painfully bright of outside, stood on top of the prison, covered every inch of it again and again and again. 

    “Sam - Sam please!”

    The ghost of a boy’s voice chased him endlessly. The desperate pleas of his final moments. The words Sam had ignored.

    “You’re going to have to trust me.” 

    He had asked for trust. Asked for faith. Asked for so many things and he had failed. Failed. Failed. Failed. 

    And Tommy had paid the price. 

    “You remember when you visited me in exile? This is worse than that.” 

    Tommy had been desperate. Afraid. So, so very afraid. 

    Sam knew why. And yet he had stilled ignored Tommy’s frantic attempts at help. He had ignored Tommy’s lowered guard, a guard he only lowered when he was desperate. 

    “He was mine! He obeyed me immediately. I didn’t even have to ask him to destroy his armour by the end. It was almost too easy. Too fun.” 

    Dream’s laughter echoed through the corridors. 

    No matter how much he tried to convince himself it had been necessary, Sam couldn’t rid himself of the guilt that ate him alive. 

    The halls were cold. 

    Sam kept walking, searching for a culprit even though he knew who was really to blame.

~*~

His cheeks were burning. A fire that still wasn’t as bad as the ache in his chest, a stinging that was worse than any physical pain he’d felt in a long time. 

    It hurt, but he couldn’t stop the tears from flowing, even when he pressed his sleeve to his face to try and dry them, to relieve the pain even a little. 

    Ranboo trudged through the snow, a few flowers still hanging limp from one hand, the other pressed his sleeve to his face. 

    He felt… numb, in many ways. The ache was strong, threatening to overwhelm, but so was the desire to just sleep. 

    He should have done more. 

    The cottage came into view and Ranboo looked up, blinking his eyes, and taking a shaky breath to keep back the rest of his tears. 

    He’d forgotten how much it hurt. 

    Fitting, really. 

    He’d almost made it past the house when the opening of a door caught his attention. He dabbed at his cheeks again, trying to stop them stinging, to hide the fresh scars that were no doubt noticeable. 

    “Hey mate!” Phil called, stepping out of his house and leaning on the edge of the bridge between buildings with a grin that Ranboo suddenly wanted to punch. He balled his fist, the flowers in his hand drooping. When he didn’t respond, Phil’s expression flickered. “Everything alright?” 

    “No,” Ranboo said, his voice catching slightly. “No, not really.” 

    How could he explain? 

    “What’s up?” 

    Phil’s concern seemed so genuine and Ranboo couldn’t help but feel so angry. Angry at everyone who only cared after it was too late. Angry at everyone who hadn’t done anything, himself included, who had let this happen. 

    “Tommy’s dead,” he said, and the words felt heavy as he spoke them, like a finality. 

    (The flower sat on the path, limp and forlorn and nobody came). 

    “What?” Phil’s voice was almost amused, as though he were holding back a laugh. Ranboo balled his fists tighter, not caring that he was probably cutting into his palms. 

    “He’s gone,” he said. “He was trapped in the prison and Dream…” He bit his lip. It was better than the burning cheeks. 

    “Oh.” 

Phil’s expression barely changed. He was silent for a long moment, knuckles white on the railing the only sign of his emotion. “I see.” 

    Then he turned abruptly and returned inside, shutting the door behind him. Ranboo swallowed thickly, determined not to cry anymore. 

    He hurt enough already. 

    “So Theseus finally fell.” 

    He started, turning to see Techno standing behind him, arms crossed, axe in one hand, Steve’s lead in the other. Ranboo nodded, swallowing again and taking a shaky breath. 

    “What happened to your face?” Techno’s voice didn’t change, still as steady and monotone as always. Ranboo blinked. 

    “When… when I cry. My tears…” It felt silly to say. 

    Techno didn’t answer, just gestured with one hand for Ranboo to follow him. He did, suddenly wanting to bury his face in the polar bear’s fur and cry without it hurting. 

    It wasn’t fair. 

    “I don’t even know why,” he said quietly, barely aware he was speaking. “I mean… he was always mean to me… I…” he trailed off, realizing Techno wouldn’t want to hear his rambling. 

    Techno didn’t answer for a while, setting Steve up beside the fire before opening a chest. Ranboo stood near the door, fidgeting nervously, spinning the flowers in his hand. 

    “Loss is funny like that,” Techno said finally. He glanced up from the chest, withdrawing a potion and holding it out to Ranboo. Ranboo took it, offering him a small smile. 

    “Thank you,” he said quietly. Techno grunted, and Ranboo took that as his cue to leave. 

    As he did, he heard Techno muttering something under his breath. He wasn’t sure exactly, but it sounded like “... I know… be patient. I won’t let him get away with this.” 

    The door to Phil’s house was closed and his windows dark.

~*~

It felt almost wrong to sleep in a room that he had effectively stolen from a dead man. Jack couldn’t sleep, staring at the ceiling, trying to stop thinking. 

    Somehow, he kept thinking of L’manberg. Specifically, a day a few weeks after he had joined the country, while he and Tommy were standing on top of the wall and they were laughing. 

    He couldn’t even remember why - maybe it had something to do with something Tubbo had said or done. 

    He just remembered laughing. Remembered the sun on his back and Tommy’s eyes sparkling with mirth and his loud, obnoxious cackle and laughing so hard his sides ached and he had tears running down his cheeks and he couldn’t breathe. 

    He curled onto his side, shutting his eyes tightly. 

    He remembered lying on the van with Tubbo and Niki and Tommy, pointing out stars and making up constellations. 

    He remembered standing over a cold crater, annoyance mingling with simmering anger and Niki’s frustrated and furious expression. 

    When had it all gone so wrong? 

    Finally, he threw the blankets aside and stepped outside onto the balcony, looking out over the land. It all felt so… empty. Just yesterday he looked out here with pride and excitement - part of him was looking forward to the challenge of keeping this hotel from Tommy’s grasp when he returned. 

    And now he was never going to return. 

    A glint of light caught his attention and he glanced down to see a figure standing in the moonlight. 

    Sam Nook. A silent sentry. 

    Jack wondered how long he would stay there, waiting for a boy who would never return home. 

    He gripped the edge of the balcony, feeling the cold wind and stared at the tree and the bench just across the way. 

    He didn’t care anymore. 

    He just wanted his friend back.

~*~

“I’m sorry.” 

    Puffy sat on the edge of the crater, staring down at the glass that reflected the stars and the pit that lay underneath. 

    “We all really let you down, huh?” 

    L’manberg was so quiet now. It had been for a long time, but Puffy refused to let its memory fully die. 

    Now, she felt like it had for good this time. 

    “You shouldn’t have had to go through that alone. You shouldn’t have had to go through that at all.” 

    She held a bundle of flowers - white and red, like the ones Ranboo had been collecting. Somehow it felt fitting to sit here, over the land he had created. 

    “I let you down. I failed you. Even before you went into the prison. I should have visited you more in exile. I’m sorry.” 

    She pressed the heel of her hand to her eyes, taking a shaky breath and shaking her head. 

    The words felt empty. 

    Nothing she could do could make up for what had happened to him. 

    She just had to make sure it didn’t happen to anyone else. 

    Taking a deep breath, she stood. Carefully, she held out her arm, opening her hand to let the flowers drift down to the glass that covered L’manberg. 

    “I heard there was a special place,” she began softly. “Where men could go and emancipate.” 

    The moon was cold as it shone on the lone woman, singing softly in the rubble of a home.

~*~

He paced the halls, the halls that felt more empty than ever. He’d barely unpacked from his travels, barely settled back in and now all he could think about was the pit in his chest and the ache in his bones and the lingering guilt he had carried for months. 

    Eret ran a hand through his hair and let out a long breath, stopping in front of his throne. 

    Realistically, he knew he couldn’t have done anything. 

    Part of him wondered if this would have happened if he’d come home just a little earlier. 

    Part of him wondered how different things would be if he hadn’t let greed and naive foolishness blind him a long time ago. 

    He began pacing again, aimlessly moving through the halls of his castle. He missed them. He had missed them all for such a long time and he had only just been starting to rebuild those relationships. 

    Without meaning to, he found himself leaving his castle, walking the prime path, feet leading him aimlessly up the path. 

    He stopped in front of the shrine Puffy had made earlier that day. 

    Tommy had forgiven him. Tommy had been the first to forgive him, when Eret had long ago given up on any chance of that happening. 

    Tommy had given him hope he could be forgiven. Given him hope he could redeem himself, could rebuild the relationships he had broken. 

    With a long sigh, Eret reached up and took off his crown, glasses slipping down his face to reveal his white, white eyes. 

    Clutching both to his chest, he lowered his head, closing his eyes. 

    “Thank you,” he said softly.

~*~

Snowchester was cold. 

Tubbo pulled a blanket over his shoulders and sat in the corner of the room, Micheal’s chicken sleeping on his lap. Micheal was asleep as well, curled in his boat across the room and Tubbo couldn’t help but be glad. 

    It was cold, and no matter how many blankets he pulled around himself, no matter how hot he cranked up the fire he knew he couldn’t drive all the cold away. 

    Part of him wondered if he’d be cold even in the depths of the Nether. 

    Part of him didn’t care. 

    It wasn’t true, surely. 

    Sam was just playing another prank on them. A cruel one, one that was Tubbo’s biggest fear, but that had to be it. 

    Right? 

    But Sam’s voice had been shaky and his eyes wet and deep down Tubbo knew. 

    This was worse than last time, somehow. Last time they hadn’t had a proper goodbye, last time Tubbo blamed himself, last time it hurt so, so much. 

    But Tubbo had had L’manberg. He had had to keep pushing forward. He had things to distract him. 

    Now he had nothing. Nothing but the cold shell of a house that had no heart, no soul. 

    Because that was always Tommy’s job, wasn’t it? 

    It was always Tommy who made a house a home. A nation a place to be proud of. 

    They had won and somehow that made it all so, so much worse. 

    They had won, and Dream had been locked up, and they had been able to go about their lives how they wanted to. They had won, and that should have been the end of the story. The book should have closed, the song should have finished. 

    Happily ever after, right? 

    Tubbo pressed himself into the corner, burying his face into the feathers of the chicken in his lap and fighting down tears. 

    He couldn’t do this. 

    Not again. 

    Why did Death favour Tommy? 

~*~

Tommy woke with a chocked gasp, one hand flung above his head, shaking violently, a plea still on his tongue. 

He shuddered, breathing deeply, shutting his eyes and regaining his breath as he slowly realized he wasn't in immediate danger. 

It was warm, but not the blistering heat of the Nether, or the wet, unpleasant heat of Dream's cell. It was a pleasant warmth, like sun shining down on him. 

The ground was soft as well. Not hard and uneven like the floor of the cell, but soft and comfortable, what felt like grass tickling his arms. And wind blew softly over his face, a slow, lazy breeze that made Tommy relax more. 

Then he opened his eyes and stared up at the blue sky above him. A few stray clouds drifted across the sky and despite the still aching of his arms and head, Tommy smiled softly. 

He was out. He wasn't trapped any more. He could feel the wind, could see the sun, could hear the trees rustling nearby. He was out and he was finally free. 

(What had happened? It had been dark and hot and terrifying and Dream had been there and he had been violent and harsh and…) 

He didn't want to think about that. With arms that were still shaking slightly, he pushed himself up and looked around. 

A few trees dotted the area, a river flowing lazily past. Hills rose around them and standing a few meters away, his back to Tommy, was a figure. 

He was tall, wearing a coat that flapped slightly in the wind. A beanie was pulled firmly over his hair, and his shoulders were more relaxed that Tommy ever remembered them being. 

"Wilbur?" he called, unease and excitement mingling, together. His voice shook slightly, the panic not fully faded. 

The figured turned, revealing a familiar soft smile. It was strange, seeing Wilbur like this. Wearing the clothes he died in (he was dead how was he here?), a bloodstain across his chest, but smiling. Eyes soft, proud, sorrowful. 

He looked at Tommy the same way he had when Tommy claimed independence. 

"Welcome home," he said softly. 

Tommy blinked up at him, suddenly aware of the hand Wilbur stretched out to him. He took it, letting Wilbur pull him to his feet and swaying slightly. 

Everything felt off. He was aching, pain pounding through him, but it didn't feel real. It felt as though someone else was hurting, but when he looked down at his arms he could see the bruises, could feel dry blood in his head.

"What happened to you," Wilbur said softly, cupping his chin and lifting his face. Tommy felt a lump in his throat at the softness of the touch, despite the involuntary flinch the action drew from him.

What had happened. He didn't remember exactly, everything felt like a dream. One that he didn't want to wake up from. This open field and Wilbur soft expression were far better than the nightmare of the last week. 

"I-" he began, looking down. Wilbur's hand drifted down to his arm, gently holding his elbow. Tommy followed the movement, seeing the bruises that littered his arms. 

(Dream standing over him, eyes blazing. Fists clenched, bloodied with Tommy's blood. He was holding his arms above his face, tears in his eyes, blood running down his cheek.)

He shuddered, despite the warmth of the afternoon. Wilbur lifted his hand hesitantly, pausing a moment before returning it. 

"Take your time," he said quietly. "It takes time to adjust." 

"Adjust to what?" Tommy asked, and he hated how small his voice was. "Wilbur where - where am I?" 

Wilbur glanced up, and Tommy did as well. His heart skipped a beat, his breath caught suddenly in his throat. 

He knew where they were. This was home. This was L'manberg's land, the foundations she was built upon before war and death had stained her soil. 

If L'manberg was here, unbroken, unspoiled. And if Wilbur was here, alive… 

Was Tommy? 

"Wil- am…" He trailed off, breath catching. "Am I?" 

(Dream was angry, more angry than Tommy had ever seen him. And the lava seemed to be laughing at him and the walls were closing in around him and -) 

He was breathing quickly, shaking his head, heart bounding. 

"No," he said softly. 

"Tommy-" Wilbur began but Tommy stepped back, pushing Wilbur's hand away. 

"No. No. I - I can't… what about my hotel? What about Tubbo. I can't leave I can't be… I was going to leave him behind, I was going to be done with him this was going to be the last time." 

He couldn't breathe. He shuddered, wrapping his arms around his chest and collapsing to his knees. The ground was hard underneath him and his breath was short, sharp, panicked.

"I'm not dead," he whispered. "I - I won. I can't let him… I left him behind. I - I'm finished with him he can't… he can't win." 

"Tommy." Wilbur's voice was soft, even, full of hurt. A hand lay gently on Tommy's back and he stiffened, remembering the past week of Dream's casual punches. But Wilbur's hand was steady, comforting and Tommy leaned into it despite himself. "I'm sorry." 

Wilbur's voice was so genuine, so full of regret that Tommy felt tears prick his eyes again. 

He was so tired. 

"Wilby, I-" 

He was tired. Tired of being afraid, tired of nightmares. Tired of not being normal, of freaking out over the smallest things. He was tired of Dream's shadow that never seemed to leave. Tired of losing again and again and again. 

"I know," Wilbur said softly and drew Tommy into a tight hug. Tommy didn't resist, curling into Wilbur's embrace, sobbing softly. 

"There - I had a hotel," he whispered. He wanted to do so much. He wanted to prove he could. He wanted to become someone, to prove that Dream didn't control him. Didn't own him. 

He wanted to do so much. 

He buried his face in Wilbur's chest, shoulders shaking, weeping for his lost childhood. 

At least here, maybe he could rest. 

[momolady]

Cross Stitch: Part Two

Warning: this is a horror story, it will feature graphic imagery. Main character is also pregnant. So read forth with caution!

The pages of the diary are written as if Mrs. Atherton knew it was going to be found. In the few pages that Marni has given me, she reveals a world of torment, one that could appear to be in her head, but just as easily be a twisted web around her.

The first few pages, which had been sent with Marni’s original letter, are sparse paragraphs detailing weather, daily chores, and the sewing jobs she works on each day. The newer pages are nearly black with cramped script, and go into detail about the woman’s pregnancy and fears over motherhood. Her excitement and unease about her husband pour out on the page and she wrestles with the idea of raising a child with a man who, she claims, she cannot love.

She also writes that she is fully aware that Erique is having an affair with Mary Alice, something she tolerates only because she is soon to have a child. Her thoughts race across the page, describing moments where all seems well between her and her husband. Then she plunges once again into a spiral of worry and regret over her marriage.

“I was well aware of what I was marrying into when I accepted Erique’s proposal. I had heard the stories about him, but I thought that our union would tame him. I doted upon him during those initial months. I was eager to begin a family, and I thought he was as well. As time went on, though, his affection for me and his time spent in the house seemed to dwindle. I never became pregnant, so I blamed that for the sudden turn in Erique’s adoration. I tried everything to turn his attention to me again, and while he spoiled me and said the right things, it was not enough. In my mind, I had come to the conclusion that I was not enough.

“I buried myself in work. I made dresses and stitched until my eyes crossed, my fingers bled, and my shoulders ached. Erique hired someone to help me because, in his words, I was beginning to look like a suffering old maid. This is how Mary Alice came into our home. She was a pretty thing, exactly to Erique’s tastes. But she was also a hard worker, kind, and treated me like a sister. I became enamored with the young woman, and considered her my friend.

“I knew, too, that she and Erique were carrying on behind my back. I could tell from her flustered expression, the way her hair was sometimes mussed, how her dresses were wrinkled at the hem as if they had been risen above her waist. Erique was home much more often, and I could tell from his smile how good he was feeling. His affection for me had returned, but I knew it was out of guilt that he touched me, made love to me, and acted the part of a dutiful husband.

“I let it slide. For some reason, none of this bothered me as it should. In the early days of our marriage, when I was young and determined to raise an upstanding family, it filled me to the brim with rage. But now, older, wiser, and having given up the idea of family, I was satisfied with the companionship.”

Another page shifts suddenly back into anger and betrayal, as she realizes that Mary Alice is pregnant. It is not the girl she spits her venom at - in fact, the mentions of Mary Alice are far and few between. She focuses her ire on Erique.

“I can forgive his lasciviousness. I can forgive him for sticking it into anything that moves. I can look away from the women, even the men, but I cannot look away from the fruit of his sin. His seed has taken root and is growing inside my dear Mary Alice. Her belly swells by the day, filled with my husband’s sin. She grows sick from him. This thing that he has made, he cannot hide. He tries to make excuses, tries to get rid of the girl, to hide her from me.

“He knows what he has done. I cannot give him a family, so I could overlook his transgressions. But what he has done is the ultimate insult. He has offended me to my core. He has blighted my existence. His sin and greed shall be seen by the world! I will never forgive him, not ever.”

Another page seems joyful as she reveals she, too, is pregnant - but the elation is brief. Erique goes missing, and I can find no more mention of poor Mary Alice.

I cannot help but feel sorry for Mrs. Atherton. As it stands, I too have conflicting feelings about my pregnancy. Ever since I was little, I knew I never wanted children, but Ivan was so excited about becoming a father, I wanted to be able to give him that joy. I keep telling myself that once the baby is here, I’ll understand like all the other mothers do. I simply have a lingering fear, left over from childhood, when I found out my father’s secret.

I sketch out the man I saw in the hallway for Ivan and Marni. While Ivan hasn’t seen anything, he has heard the cries of the baby. Marni says she’s heard nothing but a silence that made her question her sanity, but she has seen a man in the house during her few trips inside.

The man with scissors was tall and lean, but his posture was stooped and crooked so that his hands dragged along the floor. His contorted fingers were tied and twisted around the handles of a pair of scissors, and his palms looked hammered flat. His mouth was sewn shut, with gashes or holes where the thread had been broken. He wore black, and his long hair covered most of his face.

“That’s him,” Marni whispers. “I saw him once when I first unlocked the doors. I would see him near doors in the house, but I thought it was something else.”

Ivan grimaces down at my sketch. “What else could that possibly be?”

“I was scared! I was trying to lie to myself.” Marni bites her lip as she looks into the distance. “I was told that sin and Satan were the most horrifying things in this world. I truly wanted to believe that.”

“I also saw a woman. The man was standing over her, and he had her cut open. I think it was the woman who wrote these pages, his wife. He took the baby from her.” I shuffle through the pages, having put them in order of their dates. “Where did you find these, Marni?”

She raises her dark green eyes to me. “Scattered inside the house. I picked them up, thinking it was garbage, but as I looked at the pages, I realized they belonged to someone here.”

Ivan’s eyes narrow at her. “You said you found some recently, though. You also said that you refused to go back into the house.”

“I did,” Marni says quietly. “When that woman was found in the backyard, she had them in her pockets.”

“You found her?” I ask.

Marni nods, wringing her hands. “I heard screaming, but by the time I came, she had collapsed back there. It was strange. It looked as though she had been there for hours.”

Ivan takes my hand under the table. “Can you tell us more about what happened when the Stevens arrived?”

“It was nearly the same as what happened to you. They asked me a few questions, looked around the place, then went inside. I saw lights on, so I never thought that the worst could have happened.”

Ivan rubs his thumb into my palm. “How long were they here before you found Linda in the yard?”

Marni looks down at her hands and stops fidgeting with her fingertips. “It wasn’t long at all. Two days.”

“That’s all?” Ivan scoffs in disbelief. He looks at me again, trying to argue that we shouldn’t go back inside.

I avoid his eyes and focus on Marni. “You just saw the lights? You never heard anything at all until Linda screamed?”

Marni’s eyes turn away and she shakes her head. “I try not to focus on the house. When I do, I feel it pulling on me again.”

Ivan pulls the sketch towards him. “Whoever this is, I don’t think he cares about men. That’s why Hank vanished and Linda was found outside.”

“The lady’s husband was a philanderer.” As I speak, Marni looks directly at me. “She said that he desired women, but could never love any of them. She feared she would have a baby girl and he would turn her away.”

Marni asks, “Then why cut the baby out in your vision?”

I shake my head. “I don’t know.”

Ivan’s expression gives something away, which Marni can see without trying. “Is there something about this that makes it worse than what you’ve seen and done before, Mr. Young?” she asks.

Ivan looks at me, and his grip on my hand under the table tightens. “We’re pregnant. It took us a long time to get here. It’s why we sent the Stevens here in the first place. And now...” His voice fades away.

Marni’s eyes widen. “Why come here at all?”

“We owed it to them,” I answer. “And now I feel it is my duty to see it through to the end. We need to get rid of whatever remains in that house.”

“But why?” Marni scoffs. “Why try to save this place and not yourself? What happened in there to make you so adamant about staying?”

There is a breeze at the back of my neck. “It’s a story I don’t wish to share.”

Marni furrows her brow, but nods in agreement. “Then let me ask you this - what makes you think you can survive what the Stevens could not?”

Ivan lets go of my hand, placing both of his upon the table. “As much as Hank was my friend, he often tried to piggyback off my research. He thought if he copied what we did, then he would get the same results.”

“He seemed so confident coming here,” Marni murmurs. “I never would have guessed he was less than experienced.”

Ivan takes off his glasses. “He had some successes, and sometimes he just lucked into things. But he was always in over his head. Had we known what was really going on here, we would never have sent them.”

A lookcrosses Marni’s face. “Did you…” She stops and shakes her head as she begins to laugh. “Did you not believe me when I first contacted you? Is that why you sent them?”

“No,” I try to cover. “It wasn’t that at all. Ivan and I agreed we wouldn’t do any more jobs like this until...”

“So you sent people you’ve admitted were shams!” Marni stands up from the table. “Were you just placating me before? I came to you out of fear! And you sent me people you had no respect for.”

My gut churns.

“You have no choice now,” Ivan says sternly. “We made a mistake. We admit that now. But now we’re all you have.”

Marni’s anger doesn’t fade as she takes her seat again. “You claim that this is the work you do. Do you dismiss everyone who comes to you asking for help?”

“No, of course not. But we do get a lot of people who are looking to disprove us or chase fame. You seemed genuine in your letter, so we...”

“I was. I am not chasing fame, I am not trying to prove you wrong or mock you. I am terrified. I don’t know why I came to be the heir of this place, but God has a plan for everyone, and for some reason, this house is in my plan!”

“We’re here now,” Ivan says. “We’re going back to the house tomorrow, and that’s all we can promise you. We’re sorry this was not taken seriously before.”

“I just want to do something good inside that house,” Marni whispers. “I don’t want it, I will never need it. Please, just help me make it good.”

We return to the house the next day, taking our equipment and some supplies with us. Ivan and I set up camp in the foyer, getting everything ready to explore the house together. We give Marni a radio which will keep her in communication with us while we’re in the house.

“It’s good you’re staying out here. It will give us a lifeline, should we need it.”

Marni looks at my belly. “May I pray over you?” she asks.

I hesitate, smiling uneasily and nodding. “Yeah. Go ahead.”

“Are you not religious, Mrs. Young?”

I look back at Ivan as he finishes getting the last few things out of the car. “I am. But I fear I may not be very motherly.”

Marni smiles at me. “All mothers feel that way.”

“It’s not like that,” I say quietly. “Ivan wants to be a father so badly but I can’t help but feel that I will...”

Marni takes my hand. “You will be a good mother. I can see it. This child will be born to someone who will love them.”

Ivan comes up, setting down the box he’s carrying just at the top of the stairs. “We’re almost ready. You show her how to work that radio?”

“She did.” Marni lets go of my hand. “Are you sure you want to do this? I’ll let you go now if there is any doubt in you.”

I step up next to Ivan. “We’re going through with this,” I answer. “We’ll find the source of the haunting.”

“Be safe. I’ll be praying for you.” Marni closes the doors behind us as we go inside.

Ivan turns on some of the equipment, and the sound of it buzzing to life fills the silence. I check the thermometer, and see the temperature is fluctuating quite rapidly. I look over at the scissors that had fallen from above. There are scratches around them.

“We can and will leave if we see anything like we did in Wakefield.” Ivan comes up beside me, placing his hand on my lower back.

“You’re just afraid of dolls.” I lean into his side for a moment of respite, then stand in alertness. “Come on. We need to start exploring this place.” I pick up a flashlight and enter the hall where I saw the man with scissors.

“What were you and Sister Marni talking about?” Ivan asks.

“She wanted to pray over the baby.” I turn on my flashlight and sweep it across the room. The light shines on the form of a woman, and I nearly jump out of my skin. I drop the flashlight, and it rolls along the floor until Ivan picks it up.

“It’s a sewing form.” He walks deeper into the room, revealing several sewing forms lined up against the wall. “I wonder if the lady of the house was a seamstress.”

I sigh with relief, clutching at my chest. “How did that not frighten you?”

Ivan smiles at me. “My grandmother always had a couple of these lying in wait when I was younger.” He hands me back my flashlight. “Are you okay?”

“I’ll be fine. I’m just jumpier than I expected.” I continue to scan the room. I see nails in the window sash, sealing it shut. They’ve been hammered in such a way that they’re twisted and bent, rather than flush to the wood.

I look towards the hallway. At the end, I see something move suddenly out of the way. I swallow hard and steady my breath. “Ivan, this way.”

He looks away from the forms. “Did you see something?” he whispers.

“I did.” I hold out my hand. “We stay together. Agreed?”

“Agreed.” He takes my hand, holding it as we go down the long hallway. Near the end, I hear something shuffling along the bare wood floors.

“Sounds like a rat,” Ivan murmurs.

“We got dress forms. We are not getting rats.” We come to the end of the hallway, and I shine my light down both ends. As I do, I see something go through one of the doorways. Along the floor near it, there are scratches in the wood.

“Do you see him again, Amy?” Ivan whispers.

“He went into that room.” I raise the flashlight towards the opened door.

Ivan tries to walk around me. “I’ll lead.”

“No.” I hold my arm out. “He doesn’t like men, remember? I’ll lead.” I squeeze his hand again as we advance. I carefully creep through the doorway, shining my light into the room. It’s small, and loose bolts of fabric are scattered around the floor. There’s another dress form in the middle of the room, with an unfinished dress hanging on it. I see the man with scissors at the back of the room, but as I try to shine the light on him, he vanishes.

“This must have been her workspace. There’s the sewing machine. See?” Ivan places the light on the old sewing machine, and there’s a dark stain all over the wall behind it. The tabletop is wet and sticky, gleaming in the glow of his flashlight. Suspended from the needle of the sewing machine is a bit of flesh that drapes down over the edge of the table.

“Oh, god,” I gasp in fright. I look back at the dress form and the dress tacked to it. Dozens, if not hundreds of needles, glimmer in the light, holding a dress made of skin to the soft surface.

“Amy,” Ivan’s voice croaks. “Look.” He points to a tattoo on the skin dress, and I recognize it right away.

“It’s Hank.”

Above us, something skitters, then clatters violently. Ivan pulls me back, grabbing me before retreating into the hallway. As we do, the doors all open at once, then continue to fly open and shut, blocking and striking us until we tumble through another open doorway. Ivan tries to keep the door from slamming and tripping us, but as he does, his hand gets crushed in the doorframe.

“Ivan!” I rush to him, pummeling myself against the door to get it to open. The door won’t budge. It feels as set as stone. “Oh, god, are you alright?”

Ivan is struggling to keep his composure. His face is red and glistening with sweat. “Stop ramming into it,” he strains.

I stroke his hair from his face and try to comfort him. “It’s okay. I’ll find something to get you out.” I take the flashlight again, looking around the room we’ve become trapped in. There’s a bed with a bassinet placed next to it. On the floor, stuffed animals scattered everywhere so that barely any of the floor can be seen. As I sweep the light over the fireplace, I see an iron poker. I race to grab it, jarring soot and ash loose from the flue.

“Maybe I can jar the door open enough for you to pull your hand out.” I come back to Ivan’s side, resting the flashlight so it shines on us.

Ivan is slowly starting to lose composure. He’s gone from red to white, and his knees are knocking. “Be careful!”

I jam the poker into the door just above the doorknob. I heave against it, trying to use it as a wedge so Ivan can release his hand. A baby starts crying as I force the door. The more pressure I put, the louder it screams and wails. I release the poker, and the baby stops crying.

“Did you hear it again?” I ask.

“Amy!” Ivan wails.

I decide to ignore the cries to free my husband. I jab the poker in again, and the baby screams as though it’s been impaled. The door budges, and Ivan pulls his hand to freedom. Already it looks black around his knuckles.

“Oh, baby,” I whisper, cradling his hand in mine.

“I’ll be fine! Fuck...” He braces himself against the wall. “I’ll be fine. I will.” He looks at me reassuringly. “What about you?”

I’m not quite sure how to worry about myself right now. I shake my head at him and try to smile. “I’m fine, don’t worry.”

“You said you heard it again,” Ivan pants through his pain. “Are you sure?”

The faint whimpers and sobs of a baby come from the darkest corners of the room. I look down at Ivan’s hand, taking his wrist and gently holding it. “It’s not the same,” I whisper.

Ivan puts his arm around me, letting me rest my head on his shoulder. I close my eyes, reveling in his warmth, and hold him in return, squeezing tightly in the hope that he understands I’m here for him too.

In the glow of the flashlight, I see the man with scissors standing behind Ivan. His bloodshot eyes peer through a curtain of greasy black and gray hair.  He’s staring at me, stiff and shivering. I tighten my arms even more around my husband. “Stay away from him,” I whisper.

Ivan stiffens. “Is he there?” His voice cracks.

I stare deeply into the eyes of the man with scissors. “Don’t move. Not an inch.”

The man’s mouth moves, twisting and contorting so the threads keeping it shut tear at the flesh. Sweat trickles down the back of my neck as I watch him. His mouth opens, and black blood drips down from the sutures. Between the threads, cotton stuffing protrudes through his lips, caked with blood, saliva, and yellow pus.

“Too late...” his dusty voice coughs.

Ivan kicks open the door, in that instant and we run through it. The stuffed animals give chase, spilling out into the hall and like water. They bite and scratch at our heels, tearing skin until we manage to make it back to the foyer. Everything goes still and quiet there. Ivan and I stop to breathe, clutching our chests and dropping the flashlights to the ground.

“What happened?” Ivan heaves, clutching his injured hand. “Why did it all happen so fast? What is going on?”

I wipe the sweat from my brow and shake my head. “There’s something really wrong here. It’s like it knows us.”

“Knows you,” Ivan whispers. “Amy, stop trying to deny that this hits too close to home for you. The babies...”

“It’s fine!” I snap.

Ivan glares at me.

“It’s not,” I scoff. “But what can I do about it? The diary pages kept mentioning the pregnancy. Maybe something happened.” I stand back up off the floor. “We need more of the diary to find out what happened in this place.”

Ivan presses his back against the wall. “Maybe we should have gone around town and asked questions before we came here. We sort of let guilt just lead us inside.”

“Let me look at your hand in the daylight.” I approach him and take his hand. “It doesn’t look good, Ivan. We need to take you to the hospital.”

“The man with scissors,” he whispers. “Are you sure it’s not him?”

I glare at his swollen and darkening hand. “I’m sure, Ivan. It’s not him. He’s gone.”

“No, Amy, I’ve seen you touching your neck.” Ivan’s good hand slips around the back of my neck, cupping it gently. “Your father is still with you, isn’t he?”

I look at Ivan, angry and horrified. “Stop acknowledging him,” I snarl.

He nods, but keeps his hand in place. “Sorry.”

“I’m serious, though. We need to get you to the hospital. We can ask questions once we get this taken care of.” I try to open the door, but it’s locked from the outside. “That’s strange.” I knock on the glass and look around, but I don’t see Marni anywhere.

“She said she would be out there praying,” Ivan says softly.

“Maybe she saw something.” I knock again. “Marni!” I call out. “Marni, Ivan’s hurt.  I have to take him to the hospital.”

Ivan nudges me. “Try the radio. She’s supposed to have it with her.”

I take the radio from Ivan’s belt. “Marni, can you read me? Marni? Ivan’s hurt, I need to take him to the hospital. Come open the door, please.”

There’s nothing but crackling and static on the other end.

“Do you think she’s okay?” Ivan asks. “She didn’t come inside when she heard us screaming, did she?”

“I hope to God she didn’t.” I swallow, my mouth horribly dry. “Let me try her again.” I press the button on the radio. “Marni, come in. Marni.” Still only silence and static.

Ivan snatches the radio from me. “Marni! Please answer us now!” The static garbles and there’s the sound of gnashing teeth and breathing. He looks at me, puzzled, and tries again. “Marni, is that you?”

The gnashing and breathing continues, warped into a hollow, distant sound by the static of the radio. A baby cries for a split second, and then the gnashing continues.

“She said she would never come in again,” I whisper in fright.

Ivan takes the radio and bashes it through the glass. Then he reaches his arm through, opening the door from the outside. “I’m not staying here to find out. You saw that dress. You keep seeing that man with scissors.”

Ivan walks out onto the porch, and is struck by a tire iron in the back of the head. I scream, nearly falling backwards into the house. Marni steps into view, turning around and looking back at me. “Marni!” I shriek. “That was Ivan! What did you do?” I kneel to scoop Ivan up.

Marni smiles down at me, approaching with the tire iron held at her side. She tilts her head as she looks down, contemplating the scene before her. I look back up at her, bewildered and shaken. “Marni?” My voice trembles.

“Oops.” Marni kneels down. “Let’s take him back inside and lay him down. We shouldn’t move him right now. He could be concussed.”

She tries to grab his arm, but I hold him close to me. I’m still in a state of disbelief. “He needs to go to the hospital!”

“No.” Marni shakes her head. “You need to stay here.” She pulls on Ivan, tugging me and him along with her.

“Marni!” I snap.

“Come back inside.” She continues to drag both of us, despite her slight frame. She steps into the house and drops Ivan there. Then she reaches out to grab me, yanking me inside with a force I wouldn’t expect from her slight frame. She tosses me inside, then shuts the door behind her.

“What are you doing?” I pick myself up off the floor and take one of the heavy flashlights into my hand. “Let us go!” I raise the flashlight to strike her, but she turns around, grabbing my wrist and forcing me down onto my knees.

“You’ll stay here.” Marni’s voice is low and quiet. “You belong here.”

“No!” I try to fight back against her, but she’s far too strong for me. “Ivan’s hurt! Please!”

Marni’s eyes fall upon the unconscious Ivan, and she smiles again. “Good. He’s quiet now. He won’t interrupt the ladies talking.”

I grunt, trying to reclaim my arm, but she’s holding it in a vise, one that turns more painful the more I try to fight. “Please,” I whimper.

“I have been waiting so long for this moment,” Marni’s voice sounds different. It’s less sweet, deeper, and her accent has changed. “Twice it has been taken from me. But as they say, the third time’s the charm.” She looks from Ivan to me and tilts her chin up. “I told you that your baby would be born to someone who will love them, so I’m afraid I can’t let you out until then.”

“What?” I gasp breathlessly.

“Don’t play dumb, Mrs. Young.” Marni smiles again. “Weren’t you trying to tell me before you didn’t want a child?”

I shake my head and choke on my words.

“You said Ivan was the excited one, the one that wanted a child. But I could see the fear and resentment in your eyes, Mrs. Young. You have no desire to be a mother. You never have, and you probably never will.” She places her hand on her chest. “Unlike me, who was born to raise and love children with all her heart and soul.”

“B-but...you’re a nun,” I stammer.

Marni giggles and throws her head back. She takes off the habit pinned to her hair and tosses it aside. “I suppose you would have to think that, looking at me.” She takes her hair down from the tightly wound bun, letting the strawberry curls flow loosely around her shoulders.

“All I ever wanted is to be a mother, but because of my husband, I was never granted that bliss. Not until I had given up entirely. I had to wait for a blessing, when God thought I was ready.” Marni picks me back up off the ground and smoothes her fingers across my cheek.

“The man with scissors...” I gasp. “He...”

Marni presses her fingertips to my lips to silence me. “Careful, darling,” she coos. “Old memories.”

I shake my head. “I know I’m scared, but I do want this baby. Ivan wants it. Please, let us go. Mother to mother.”

Marni’s smile goes cold and her eyes become distant. She puts her hand around my throat. “That’s the problem! I am not a mother!” She takes her other hand, clasping it around my throat. “I need yours! It’s mine! It was always meant to be mine!”

I’m brought to my knees, choking and gagging, trying to scrabble at her hands and wrists. My eyes roll back, but as they do I see a man standing close. He reaches out to me and I want to recoil from his touch. “Let me go, little one,” he growls. “Let me ruin her too. It will save you.”

I lift my eyes back up to Marni and see a woman I’ve never met before. I never met Marni. What I met was her possessed body. All along, I realize, I had been in the presence of Ethelinda Atherton herself.

Ethelinda’s fingers sink into my neck, and she squeezes the life from me. The darkness in her eyes overpowers the green of Marni’s. Her grin grows, watching as my consciousness fades from this world. “Go to sleep, love,” she whispers to me. “Go to sleep.”

I hear breathing in my ear, slow and rhythmic. I stare up at a ceiling of stained glass, and its red glow pours down over me.

“Ivan?” I whimper. “Ivan…” My voice echoes far away. I know I am not conscious, but I have been in this room before. Once, long ago, I hid here.

“My darling little one,” a voice whispers.

“Go away.”

Footsteps approach, dragging on the floor with heavy chains following behind them. He stands there over me, wrapped in chains and bones. I focus on the red glass above me, keeping my eyes averted from him.

“I can touch her, little one. Let me touch her.” Drool splatters on the ground.

“No.”

He kneels and leans over top of me. “I’m not leaving you, little one. You might as well release some of these chains.”

“I said no, Dad.”

“We are cut from the same cloth. I can hold her. I can protect you. Just let me go.”

“Never again.” I can feel myself beginning to wake up. “You can never leave this room, Dad. I told you. Stop asking.”

“You can’t hide me forever, little one.” He straightens up as the red glass begins to open. “I’ll always be with you, and you will never let go of me.”

“I wish you had never died.” I close my eyes, opening them at the same time. I see the canopy of a bed, and beside me I feel the weight of another person. I sit up and touch Ivan, who is still unconscious. His eyes are held slightly open, and his breathing is so slow.

I stay silent. She, whoever she is, could be out there, waiting for me to wake up. I pat Ivan’s cheek, encouraging him to wake up, but he doesn’t stir.

I clasp my hands and try to keep from screaming. I need to think, I need to stay quiet. There’s so much I need to do, and I feel as though I can’t do a damn thing! I can hear the chains in my head, dragging across the floor as he begs to come out.

The canopy parts, and the scissor blades cut through. I see him peer through, eyes wide and bloodshot, crusty yellow at the corners. His mouth is freshly sewn shut. This time, it’s been sewn so tight that his skin puckers and squeezes around the thread. He drops a book onto the bed and then skitters away quickly. I take the book and see it’s a diary. Calligraphy is scrawled across the cover that says: The Diary of Ethelinda Atherton.

Inside, there are pages torn out - the very ones that Marni, or Ethelinda herself, gave me. The very first remaining page reads:

“Today I am to marry Erique Atherton. He will be the love of my life, the father of my children, and the happiest part of the rest of my life. I cannot wait to spend my life with him. I have always wanted to be a bride, and to think someone like Erique would choose me! I am breathless with anticipation for our wedding, and though I know I should be nervous, I am excited by the prospect of our marriage bed.”

From there, her entries are sparse and far between. Her dates are scattered and her writings brief. Things seem to take a downturn for a while, and then they turn into the pages that I had seen before, almost scared that someone would read it.

The words start to shift before my eyes. What is on the page bleeds away, giving way to new words. The handwriting is much more jagged and rushed than the pretty, dainty letters before. This looks to be written in haste and anger.

“I know God is punishing me because he can’t keep his pen in the same pot. God wants me to change him, to mold him. I need to make him into God’s image! But Erique is too far gone. I have to completely rebuild him. Make him perfect. Make him mine again.” Half the page is scratched out, but I can see crude doodles under it.

“I’ve already started. He needs to think I’m sick. He needs to care for me. I’ll make him care for me. I’ll make him love me. The diary will be my cover. He will read it, I know he will, and he will see that I need him and that he needs to come back to me.”

Ivan stirs beside me. His mouth opens and his chest heaves slightly, and then he goes completely still again.

I reach out to him, cupping his cheek and stroking it. I hope he will wake and be well, but his expression is slack. He’s not asleep. Something else is wrong. I look back at the diary, turning the pages of ranting and anger.

“He hired a girl today. A pretty little doll named Mary Alice. She’s the sort of thing he adores. She’s young, soft, and lovely. To add the insult to my injury, she’s so kind to me. I want to believe that she is doing this out of spite, but I cannot deny that I am drawn to her as well.”

The writing begins to look softer and more thought-out. The pages look less like they were stabbed by a pen, and instead written as if a calm has come over Ethelinda.

“Something has happened, something that makes me overwhelmingly joyous. Mary Alice has worked a miracle, and now Erique is back in my arms. It feels as though he truly loves me again, and when we made love, I could feel God’s blessing flow through me. I think I am pregnant. Oh please, God, please give me your love and plant this seed inside me! All my life I have wanted a child, and now I believe it is true. It is finally happening to me.”

The pages are ripped out again, the ones that she had given me before. I turn to the rest, but I also hear footsteps approaching from the hall.

“Mary Alice has revealed to me that she, too, is pregnant. How can this be? How can I be pregnant if she is as well? I thought Erique had changed, and that was why I was able to get pregnant. That must mean this is a punishment, and the child inside me is not a blessing. God has done this to me, and I must accept it.”

The door opens and slow, purposeful footsteps come into the room. “Are you awake now?” Marni, Ethelinda, whoever she is, says as calmly as can be. “Are you done pretending?”

I tuck the book under Ivan’s back before her hand parts the curtains. She’s wearing the dress made of flesh, which has been dyed green. She smiles at me, and those dark green eyes penetrate deep into me. “Good morning, Mrs. Young. Did you sleep well?”

I glare at her, feeling my guts churn. I rest my hand over my belly. Even if I had questions about becoming a mother, I know that no child deserves to be held in her hands. “I didn’t,” I spit.

She clucks her tongue and shakes her head. “That’s not good for the baby. You need to rest well, so it will come out healthy and strong.”

“How would you know?”

Her smile curdles, turning sour. “Don’t be rude.”

I feel a breath at the nape of my neck. “What do you plan to do with us?” I whisper. “Will you let Ivan go if I agree to let you have it?”

Her eyes flicker over to him. “Why would you want that?”

My chest shudders, and I swallow the hate building in my throat. “I love him, more than anything. I would do whatever I could to protect him.”

Ethelinda chuckles and clasps her hands together. “It doesn’t matter. None of it will. Get up and come with me.”

“And if I refuse?” I ask.

Ethelinda smiles and nods her head. I look to the other side of the bed, where I see the man with scissors take Ivan’s broken hand.

“No!” I scream.

“Do it,” Ethelinda hisses.

The man with scissors slips the blades around Ivan’s finger. With a quick snip, Ivan’s finger falls from his hand. Ivan twitches and writhes in his unconsciousness before flopping to the bed like a dead fish.

I can’t stop screaming. Ethelinda’s hand claps down over my mouth, and she squeezes hard. “Then come with me. He can lose so much worse than a finger.”

[krsnbgirl]

Fly High! || Kageyama x Fem!Reader || Part 8

Summary: Tensions are high between Hinata and Kageyama during their time in Tokyo. You can’t help but be on the sidelines and only step in when it’s necessary. Kuroo checks in with you and tries to help you relax during one of their breaks. Also, you show Kageyama that you’re going to be there for him whenever things get tough and he appreciates you for being by his side. 

Pairing: Kageyama Tobio x Fem!Reader

Genre: Rom-Com, Slice of Life, Sports

Warnings: None

Word Count: ~3.5k

Taglist:  @misnmatchedsox​ @monviemoo​ @love-beyond-words​ @bbecc-a​

Author’s Notes: Hello lovelies! I hope you enjoy this update~ Anyways, how are you guys doing? Today’s been a little rough, so writing helped me escape reality for a bit, haha. As always, it will be cross posted on AO3 and I hope you guys have a great day today! Taglist is still open <3 

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5 || Part 5.5 || Part 6 || Part 7 || Part 8 || Part 9 || Masterlist

You purse your lips as the following day of training camp went into full throttle. The boys were finally up against Nekoma and while taking down notes for the team, you began to notice the shift between Hinata and Lev. An unspoken conversation had gone down between the two players and the gut feeling you had the day before was finally coming into existence. Hinata’s goal to become one of the best players was growing stronger. He had always made it known that he wanted to be at the top. He’d show anyone just how serious he was to be able to be just as amazing as the Tiny Giant. As the game slowly progressed, you could see the new expression on his face as he continued to play. Biting your lip, you took note of this in your notebook to bring up to Shimizu and the adults once their game was over. 

You winced as everyone watched Hinata go for the ball that was clearly meant for Asahi to spike and held your breath as they collided. As everyone tried to calm down the situation with Ukai and Kageyama reprimanding him, there was an underlying tension in the air. You bit the back of your pen and glanced across the court to see that Nekoma’s coach had also realized what was happening to your team as he smirked to himself. He was a perceptive coach and the smile he showed proved that he had figured out what you were meaning to share when the next time out happened. 

Everyone finally settled down and returned to their original positions. You looked at your boys and sighed in relief when it looked like things were going back to normal. They had concentrated looks and were slowly getting back into the rhythm of things. You hoped that there wouldn’t be anything else that would disrupt the match. Just as you were about to relax and go over your notes, you were proved wrong when the orange haired player turned to say something to Kageyama that had Karasuno react in surprise. 

“The quick that goes like whoosh...I’ll stop closing my eyes.” 

You couldn’t help but laugh to yourself as Kageyama’s face deadpanned when everyone heard what Hinata had to say. Biting your lip, you squeezed the pen that you were previously twirling  in hopes that things wouldn’t escalate more than it already had. 

“I can’t stay like this,” he continued, “I can’t keep hitting quicks that are set just for me.” 

“You can’t, and that’s why we learned normal quicks. I don’t know what’s going on with you right now, but if you have something to say, I’ll listen to it later. But if you’re gonna do that right now, I’m not going to set to a guy who I know will miss.” Kageyama retorted. 

With the blow of the referee’s whistle, you let out the breath that you didn’t know you were holding. Setting your elbows on top of your knees, you focused on the game, silently thankful that nothing else had come out of that short conversation. Shimizu sighed beside you and you looked up at her. You two shared a look and while stretching your arms, the older girl sighed. Readjusting her glasses, Shimizu hugged her notebook closer to her as you continued to watch the boys play. 

“That wasn’t just me who noticed the tension between the boys, right?” you murmured. 

Shimizu agreed and voiced her own concerns, “Ever since the collision happened, the rest of the boys are all on edge.” 

And before you knew it, the game was over. The other teams dispersed to their areas and the boys were doing their punishment once again. As you gathered the stray balls that littered the court, you couldn’t help but notice the looks on the boys’ faces as they dove across the floor. 

The tension in the team was obvious as some gritted their teeth, others had their eyebrows scrunched up, and some glanced at Hinata to see that the boy was in his own world.

Taking in a deep breath, you knew that the boys were finally realizing what you had come to realize: Hinata’s greed kept growing and no one wanted to be left behind. You laughed when you noticed that Hinata had messed up on his dive and smiled to yourself. While rolling the cart of balls off to the side, you were glad to see that the boys were slowly realizing that this camp was the perfect time to grow. The teams from the city are hard opponents and it was finally time for Karasuno to level up. So, once the boys had gathered around to listen to what Takeda and Ukai had to say, you breathed a sigh of relief and mentally thanked the teacher for his poetic words. Out of the four of them, Takeda always had the right words to tell the team. 

“You guys are the weakest team out of all the teams here.” 

You sweat dropped as you took in their faces when he said that, but smiled warmly as he continued. “If we were to have an official match with any of these teams, they would be a troublesome opponent. Are we going to view them as mere opponents or teachers that we can absorb techniques from?” 

You found yourself mentally agreeing with everything that your teacher was saying and as he wrapped up his speech about having more room to grow, you were glad to see that the boys’ expressions changed to being refreshed and determined. There was this refreshed aura around them and you straightened up, knowing that you had a little less to worry about. And as the boys were let on a brief break before their next match, you bit her lip when you noticed that Kageyama, Hinata, and Sugawara went outside to talk. 

“Oi~ chibi-chan!” Kuroo called.

You raised an eyebrow at him as he jogged up to you and you crossed your arms, shifting your weight onto one of your legs. 

“What do you want this time, you freakishly tall giant?” 

He leaned back and laughed. You playfully rolled your eyes as he pretended to wipe a tear away from his eyes. 

“You do know, everyone is basically a giant to you here right?” 

“Yeah and what about it? You’re the only one who’s annoying me right now.” You chuckled and playfully swatted his stomach. “Now what do you want Tetsu?” 

He shrugged and said, “I just wanted to check up on you after noticing the change in the boys during the game. You looked stressed and worried. Your leg kept bouncing up and down while you did that scrunched up look on your face whenever you began to overthink.” 

Your eyes glanced towards the entrance that the boys disappeared to and sighed. “I’m not sure what went down between Kageyama and Hinata, but hopefully they’ll be able to fix it. As for the team, the boys have been doing alright overall and I think Shoyo realized what they need to be doing at this camp. I just hope Kageyama will be able to hear him out.” 

Twirling the volleyball you had taken out of the team bag, you purse your lips as different scenarios played in your mind. Kuroo sighed and lightly bonked the top of your head. If there was anything he learned about you through the years he’s known you, it’s when you would begin to overthink something. You glared at him and he snickered before resting an elbow on top of your head. He looked down at you as you tossed the ball back into the bag. You groaned as he playfully added more of his weight onto you. 

“You don’t gotta stress, (Y/N)-chan. Knowing those two, they’re gonna hash it out as always and everything will be fine. You gotta believe in those two because you know that they’re going to always pull through in the end, alright?” 

You looked at him with some doubt and he wrapped his arms around your shoulders. Leaning into his comforting embrace, you wrapped an arm around his waist. 

“Yeah I guess you’re right.” 

“I know. And think about it this way, if you’re not part of the solution, you’re part of the precipitate.”

You immediately looked up at him in disbelief. “Did you really just try to squeeze in a chemistry joke?” 

He casually shrugged and said, “Yeah and what about it? I’m trying to cheer you up. My jokes always work on you.” 

You shook your head and laughed. “Only you, Tetsu. Only you.” 

“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?!” he exclaimed and stepped away to tower over you. 

“Take it as you will, you big nerd.” you chuckled and didn’t back down, his glowering having no effect on you. 

The coaches yelled faintly in the background that it was almost time to resume the practice matches. You  watched as Kageyama finally returned and your eyebrows scrunched up as you took in his expression while Coach Ukai made his way outside to see what was going on.

“Look, if it makes you feel better, I’ll help you with your team since this is a training camp chibi-chan.” Kuroo said.

Your eyes widened in surprise and he laughed at your expression. 

“You’re kidding.” 

 “Nope, I’m totally serious. The players have free time after the matches for their own practices. A couple of us were planning on helping each other with our strengths or just having mock games. Well actually Bokuto and I just wanted to play against each other like old time’s sake” Kuroo laughed and ruffled your hair. “If any of your boys come by, I’ll help them out.” 

You couldn’t help yourself as a bubble of excitement rippled through you and threw your arms around Kuroo. He laughed and lifted you up into a spin before setting you down. You continued the conversation and walked towards Nekoma with Kuroo to quickly exchange pleasantries before the break ended.

Over to the side, Kageyama clicked his tongue as he watched your exchange happen and clenched his water bottle tighter. 

“Oh? Looks like someone’s trying to swoop in King.” Tsukishima snickered as he took note of what Kageyama was looking at. 

“Shut up, you don’t know anything.” Kageyama rolled his eyes before walking away. 

You managed to walk up to him before he reached the bench and he looked down at her with an eyebrow raised. Meeting his gaze, you tugged on his practice jersey when you noticed that he was tightly clenching his jaw. 

“Hey Tobio, are you alright?” 

Asahi, Daichi, and Nishinoya choked on their waters as their head snapped in your direction after hearing your voice. Kageyama could feel his ears burn as you looked at him in concern and Nishinoya screamed. ‘I don’t think I’ll ever get over her calling me by my name with her voice.’ He thought and you poked him in the stomach to get his attention.

“TOBIO?! YOU GUYS ARE ON FIRST NAME BASIS NOW?! SINCE WHEN?!”

Daichi and Asahi held him back and you glared at him to shut up before turning back to Kageyama. He sighed as his mind flashed back to Hinata’s words and tried to keep his annoyance at bay. That was a problem that could be addressed later when these matches were over. In the meantime, he’d just need to focus on whoever they faced next. Ruffling your hair, he set his bottle next to his things and began to make his way back to the court.

“There’s nothing you need to worry about, for now.” 

With a sigh, you could only trust Kageyama’s words as the rest of the boysgot ready for their match against Fukurodani. 

--- 

The last day of the weekend training finally came to an end as everyone loitered in the parking lot as members packed away their belongings. You wiped away the sweat on your forehead as you tossed the last bag of volleyballs into the storage unit. The boys were all saying their goodbyes before getting onto the bus. Then seeing as Shimizu and Takeda-sensei were already in the vehicle, you took this as a chance to get a window seat on the way home. You also wanted some peace and quiet before the boys came onto the bus to start your nap and took your place on the bench that Kageyama and Hinata would usually sit in. 

‘They wouldn’t mind if I stole their seat just this once, right?’ you thought and mentally shrugged. You plugged in your earphones to drone out the noise as the boys began to slowly file into the bus and closed your eyes in hopes that no one would bother you while trying to relax.

Just as you were about to nod off, a light tap was felt on your shoulder. You jumped in surprise when you saw Kageyama looking the other way. Your eyes went over to the single seater row across from you and noticed Hinata had already taken a seat, looking out the window. With a silent understanding, you stood up and grabbed your bag from the empty seat next to you. He raised an eyebrow before taking your previous seat and you nonchalantly shrugged as Takeda-sensei started the bus. 

“Window seats are better to help clear the mind.” You murmured before sitting down and took out the last of your homework. 

He grunted at the sight of the assignments he still had to do once he got back home and you softly giggled at his response. After getting situated and the bus was finally on the highway back home, you nudged him. Kageyama looked down at the earbud you were offering and then back at you once again. You simply grabbed his palm and put the wireless bud in his hand before tapping the one you already had in your ear. 

“It’ll help you keep your mind off things.” 

Before he could say anything to you, the volume of the song playing was turned up and you started to work on your homework. He stared at you in surprise to find one of his favorite artists playing and sighed before relaxing in his seat. Resting his chin on the top of his palm, he looked out the window. Catching your reflection behind him, his eyes softened as he let his mind drift, thankful that you lent your support in a way he was comfortable with. 

-- 

You let out a yawn as you sleepily made your way out of the girl’s changing room and shouldered your backpack to prevent it from slipping off of your shoulders. Tilting your head to the side, you noticed that the light in the gym was still on. With a shake of your head, you had a good feeling as to who was in there. You couldn’t help but pinch the bridge of your nose in hopes that your gut was wrong. Peeping your head through the door, you let out an exasperated sigh to find Hinata and Kageyama in the gym with a basket of volleyballs near them.

“Shouldn’t you guys be heading home?” you asked as you stepped into the gym and crossed your arms. 

Hinata smiled sheepishly and said. “(Y/N)-chan, if you don’t mind, could you throw us some balls?” 

Your eyes shifted over towards Kageyama and he shrugged before tossing one of the balls at you. Huffing to yourself as you caught the ball, you dropped your bag by the door before joining them onto the court. After tossing them the ball for a couple of moments, you groaned when you  felt the tensions rise once more. Hinata was trying to keep his eyes open and you noticed that he wasn’t jumping at his highest point anymore. You knew that Kageyama noticed after several tries and you were debating if you should try to stop them. The frustration was growing evident on both of their faces and you bit your lip as Hinata asked for one more time. 

“Instead of practicing an attack we’re not sure you’ll be able to do, you should be working on the attacks we’ve been using, as well as serving and blocking!” Kageyama snapped. 

You held your breath as their conversation got more heated and before you knew it, the boys were at each other’s throats. While waiting for the right moment to step in, Kageyama grabbed a hold of Hinata’s shirt and he was thrown onto the floor in seconds. You began to worry because this looked a lot more serious compared to the previous fights they’ve had. So, taking a deep breath, you were about to yell at them to stop fighting, especially once Kageyama refused to set for him, but things seemed to happen too fast for you to keep up. You froze as Hinata jumped back into his feet and tried to tackle Kageyama to the floor. Knowing that the two were too blinded by their emotions for you to intercept, you ran towards the clubroom to get someone to stop them. 

“Ryu-nii!” you exclaimed when you spotted him at the bottom of the staircase.

He jumped at your alarmed expression and tugged on his arm, pointing towards the gym.

“What’s the matter?” 

You turned back to him with worried eyes and said, “Shoyo and Tobio are fighting!” 

Without a moment to waste, Tanaka rushed towards the gym before yelling at the two to stop it. You winced when you witnessed the two of them get punched by their upperclassman. Knowing that it was the perfect chance to help diffuse the situation, you got a hold of Kageyama while Tanaka held Hinata back. 

“You guys need to calm the fuck down, right now!” you exclaimed. 

The boys paused when they heard you and Kageyama looked down when he finally realized that you were holding him back. He noticed the frustrating and disappointed look on your face and gulped. With more awareness of his surroundings, Kageyama felt your hands slightly trembling as you held him back and he immediately tried to relax his body. It was hard for him because Hinata seemed to not listen to anyone and there wasn't enough time for him to master the new quick. With a sigh, you let go of Kageyama and made your way towards your backpack to take out the first aid kit you always carried for emergencies.

“That’s enough. I know the both of you have different opinions right now but we all just got back from camp. We’re all tired and you idiots might be getting way too heated because of the exhaustion. Take a moment for yourselves and really think about what each other have said, alright?” you hissed before approaching your friends. 

Tanaka proudly smiled as he watched them obediently listen to you and ruffled your hair as he made his way out. He knew that there weren’t going to be any more scuffles with the way the boys looked at opposite directions as you bandaged their bruises and cuts. 

“You got this from here, (Y/N)-chan?” Tanaka asked. 

You hummed in response and waved him off while you concentrated on putting a bandage on Kageyama’s cheek. “You can go home Ryu-nii, thanks for breaking these two idiots apart.” 

He laughed and waved goodbye. Pausing at the doorway he glared at the two before threatening, “You guys better make sure she gets home safe or else Noya and I will make sure you’re going through hell the next time we see you.” 

“Y-YES SIR!” they exclaimed and you rolled your eyes while walking to your bag to pack up your things. 

Glaring at the two of them with your bag slung onto your shoulders, you went towards the basket of volleyballs to put it away. 

“Go get your things, we’re going home.” 

--

You and Kageyama walked in silence ever since Hinata darted off once you locked up the gym. The three of you usually went home together but knowing that they needed to cool down, you understood why Hinata decided to separate himself for now. You sighed to yourself after noticing that Kageyama never stopped frowning and his eyebrows furrowed deeply together. He was in deep thought, probably trying to analyze why things weren’t going right, and you just needed to find a small distraction to help him get out of his head. As you approached an intersection, you threw your hands behind your head. 

“You know, you’re going to get wrinkles faster with the way you’re always frowning.” you said.

“Huh?!” he asked as he glared down at you and you looked at him from your peripherals, unphased by his reaction. 

Without thinking, you reached up and pressed the spot between his eyebrows, causing his face to relax. He rolled his eyes at you before swatting away your hands and continued the way home. 

“Whatever, you’re annoying.” 

“I know you’re worried, but you have to realize that Shoyo is right to some degree.” you said. 

He clicked his tongue but let you continue what you had to say. 

“It’s true that your guys’ special quick attack is something that no one else can do, but your opponents are now being more attentive towards you guys.” you said as you came to a stop, waiting for the crosswalk to turn white. 

“You’re also not wrong that there isn’t enough time and that you guys should be fine tuning the weapons you already have, but I believe in you two.” you finished softly and tugged on the strap of his bag. 

He turned to see what had caught your attention and it was a kid’s volleyball flyer. You shrugged and said, “Maybe going back to your roots could help you realize what he sees and needs you to do.” 

Kageyama sighed as the light changed for you guys to walk and silently continued to walk in front of you. You stared at his back while lost in your own thoughts for a bit. Hinata and Kageyama were complete opposites, yet they complimented each other’s play styles. You simply hoped that after this fight, they’d bounce back twice as strong. So for now, you were just going to do whatever you could to help them. Shaking any worries away, you matched his pace and stuffed your hands into the pockets of your team jacket. For the rest of the way back, the two of you were lost in their own thoughts. Once you reached your house, he squeezed your shoulder reassuringly and told you that he’ll text you once he gets home safely. With a defeated sigh, you prayed that things will slowly get better for the two boys. 

[tsukikoayanosuke]

“We Will Face All Our Fortune and Pain as One.” - Twisted Wonderland x Reader

Human is a selfish creature. Did they really think that they could create something that would surpass the gods? How foolish. How greedy. They wanted power, and they wanted more. They were mocking the gods. So, the gods decided to punish the humans, destroying the world they were living in. Those helpless creatures couldn’t escape the gods’ wrath. But, there was one way to stop the punishment.

A child shall be chosen as the [Messiah] and they must climb the Tower of AI. Inside the tower, the [Messiah] must grab the nine flame, the [blessings], and bring them to the top of the tower to light up the torch so the world can survive for another age.

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You were so young when the gods’ punishment came raining down, killing your parents in order to teach these arrogant humans a lesson. You were alone, confused, and just didn’t have the will to move forward.

That was until someone stretched out their hand for you.

The other kids who lost their parents, who were once alone as well, found their place in a small family they’ve created. At first, you didn’t know why they were smiling despite the world was crumbling around him, but you remembered what they said.

“In sickness and in health, we will always swear that we will face all our fortune and pain as one.”

Their smiles made you realized that you are not alone. Thus, you reached for their hands.

Azul, the calculative leader of the group.

Kalim, the cheerful dancer with the sunshine smile.

Leona, the shepherd who preferred to take a nap than work.

Ruggie, Leona’s companion who made sure that he does his job.

Jamil, Kalim’s best friends, and his singing companion.

Malleus, the mysterious fae who had ways with words.

Riddle, the self-proclaim ‘red queen’ who always stick to the rule.

Jade, the gentleman baker with a mature air around him.

Floyd, the goofy younger twin brother of Jade.

All of them were now your family.

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An unexpected letter came to the Village of Youth one day. It was from the Kingdom. When you opened, your eyes widened.

You were chosen as the next [Messiah].

The letter came with the torch for the [blessings]. But, you still couldn’t believe it. You were chosen for this important job?! Unbelievable!

But, you remember once again about your friends, your family. If doing this job would grant the world forgiveness and give another age for you to live with your family, then you would do it. They’ve done so much for you. Shelter, warm foods, companions, love, everything little thing you appreciated.

But now, it was your turn to do something for them.

You will make them proud.

You will become the [Messiah]. 

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You stood at the exit of the village, carrying your supplies on your back. The torch that was sent to you was in your hand, you were clutching it until your knuckle turned white. Inhaling a deep breath and let it out from your lips, you stepped out.

Well, you were about to step out if it weren’t for voices calling your name making you stop.

Turning around, you saw your friends, running toward you, each of them carrying their own traveling bags. “Guys? What are you doing here?”

Azul was the first one to speak, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Well, we can’t let you go on your own.”

Riddle nodded. “It’s dangerous out there if you’re alone.” He turned his head away, a light blush dusted his cheek. “We’ll be sticking with you just in case.”

“You guys are so nice but you mustn't come,” you said, looking at each one of them worriedly. “It's my mission and I don't want to get you all involved.”

Malleus hummed, stepping forward and put his hand on top of your head. “I know you are worried, child of human,” he said, his hand ran down your hair and you just leaned into the touch. “But this is something that we must do.”

Leona yawned. “It would be troublesome if you got hurt on the way without our help.”

Ruggie snickered. “See? Even Leona is worried.” He looked at you straight in the eye. “But seriously, didn’t we promised to protect each other no matter what may come?”

You bit your lips. To be honest, it would probably be nicer if all of you could travel together. But this was your mission. If they got hurt during the journey, you would never forgive yourself.

You felt Floyd hugged you from behind. “Don’t think too much, shrimpy,” he laughed. “We’ll be fine.”

Jade walked closer to his brother, putting a hand on his shoulder. “We can protect ourselves and you at the same time.”

Kalim reached for your hands, keeping it close to your chest. “You’ll be saving the world! Isn’t it exciting? We want to be part of the journey too!”

Jamil shook his head at his best friend’s cheerfulness but at the same time agree with him. “So, we’ll be going with you to that tower no matter what.”

You let out a sigh. “I can’t stop you can I?” Some of them were shaking their head, but you got the message clear just from the determined glint in their eyes. Azul stepped forward and, once again, stretched out his hand toward you, with the others smiling at you. You couldn’t help but smile back, taking the hand in your own.

Thus, you started your journey with your dearest family by your side.

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The journey was long but you finally arrived at the Tower of AI. Entering the stone tower, you heard the stone door closed behind you. There were two doors awaited you, standing across each other. Behind one of the doors was supposed to be the chamber of the [blessing] while the other door was the stairway leading to the next floor. In order to open the stairways, the [Messiah] must take the [blessing] first.

You didn’t have to guess for suddenly one of the stone door slid open, revealing a [blessing], the [Blooming Wave], rested on top of the altar. You started to walk toward the shining [blessing]. You could felt your heart hammering behind your ribs as you reached out…

A hand suddenly appeared on top of yours. Turning your head, you saw Azul smiling at you. “We will face all our fortune and pain as one,” he said. But, suddenly his warm smile turned into a smirk and your eyes widened when he suddenly pushed you out of the room. You could hear him laughing as the door slammed shut.

Azul… He couldn’t…

But… You were the [Messiah]… You were the one who was supposed to take the [blessing]. Not him. Why… Why did he steal it from you?

The room suddenly turned cold. You glanced behind you and you saw the rest of the gang were glaring with hate at each other as if they were ready to kill. It was like they were enemies now.

The door to the other side of the room suddenly opened, revealing the stairway. You walked slowly, still shocked by what just happen. You could hear the footsteps of your friends behind you. They… They wouldn’t do it again, right?

Like on the first floor, the door to the [blessing] chamber, the [Fire Banquet], was opened. You stepped in slowly, glancing toward your friends. None of them seemed like they wanted to follow you. Maybe the first one was just a mistake. There was no way-

Light footsteps followed you and suddenly you both of your hands were grabbed. You gasped when you found out it was Kalim, taking you into a small dance, but you were terrified for his usual sunny smile was colder.

“Off you go~” Even his cheerily voice sounded wrong as he threw you out from the chamber. You could see him gave his audience a small bow before the door was slammed shut in front of their face. Kalim too? But he gave you his support! You remember how his face beamed when you showed him the letter. So why…

You heard someone running ahead. Scanning quickly through the gang, you noticed the hyena was nowhere to be seen. “Ruggie, wait!” You ran ahead toward the third floor, hoping you could catch him. The door to the chamber of the [Grace of Sun] was opened, and running was about to enter-

You suddenly heard a roar and Leona suddenly pounced from behind you, pining Ruggie to the floor. At first, you felt relieved. Yes, Leona stopped him! Now you can-

“Sorry, Ruggie.” You heard the lion said. He glanced back toward you, showing his fanged smirk. “But I’m taking this.”

Leona threw Ruggie back to you and walked toward the [blessing], back straight and filled with pride as if he just won a game. The chamber door closed, leaving both of you dumbfounded. You… You couldn’t believe it. Your hand clenched into a fist. Leona… Sure, he sounded like he didn’t care when you told him about the letter like the usual lazy lion he was, but you believed that he was someone more. He decided to stick this very long and tiring journey for you. Why would you do this?!

“Yeah. Right.” You heard Ruggie growled. “As if that would stop me.”

You felt Ruggie push you to the floor and he immediately took off to the next floor. With each step, you kept repeating the same question in your head. You still couldn’t believe those who you dare to call your brothers would betray you.

Reaching the fourth floor, Ruggie had already entered the chamber to the [Peaceful Darkness] without even looking back. You tried to catch up to him, but the chamber door suddenly slammed shut in front of your face.

“The chosen one is me…” you spoke. You turned around, frustrated with everything. “The prophecy said-!” You stopped yourself, shocked when you saw that all of them stare at you with no expression.

“If you keep it for yourself, we won’t forgive you!”

How much could greed change a person at this point?!

All of them started running as if it was a race. All you could think of was you needed to stop them from stealing even more [blessings]s from you. “Please! Stop! Don’t do it!” you screamed. But none of them listen to you.

Jamil was the first one to enter the chamber of the [Trembling Ground]. Stretching out his hand, he spoke out his last vow. “For a servant to follow his master, I shall take this one just like Kalim!” He laughed cruelly as the door slammed shut. You stopped your track at the closing door, remembering Jamil smiled when you were talking to Kalim, saying his good luck for you.

The next chamber was the [Rumble of Thunder]. You tried to run ahead, but Malleus suddenly appeared in front of you with his fae power. He was speaking in the ancient language of the fae that you could never understand. But that smirk on his face was enough to stop you.

“You should leave this to me, little human,” he whispered to your ear. He then stepped back, locking himself along with the [blessing] inside.

You could feel your body trembling. Where have all of your trusted friends gone off to? Were they your enemies now?

Could it be that you were wrong about their kindness all along?

You felt numb as you climb to the next floor. The door to the chamber of the [Rondo of Whirlwind]. You were still frustrated with everything that you never realized Riddle had walked in first, lifting his shepherd staff, blocking your way.

“Take another step and it’ll be off with your head.”

Even in this situation, you couldn’t deny the little queen’s order. You felt as if your heart just stopped when the door slammed shut in front of your face. Even Riddle betrayed you… What were they thinking?!

Glancing back, you realized that the Leech twins were the only ones left. Jade just kept staring at the door with a cold expression while Floyd was looking bored as usual. You felt tired. You couldn’t take this pain of watching all your trusted friends stabbing you one the back anymore. And they were so supportive before.

Without any sound and heavy steps, the three of you climbed to the next floor. The door to the [Garden of Silver Snow] was opened for you. Once again, you tried to step forward, but someone stopped you. Looking back you saw Floyd’s hand on your shoulder. But, instead of him entering, it was Jade who pushed the two of you behind.

“Jade! No!” Floyd stretched out his hand as you covered your mouth in shock. Jade turned around, tears were flowing from eyes, but he was laughing like a madman.

“Looks like I win this time, Floyd!” And the door slammed shut. You kept repeating to yourself that Jade would never leave Floyd alone. He would never betray his own brother. But he was doing the exact thing you thought he would never do.

You forced yourself to climb the next floor. The chamber door opened, revealing the [Fetal Movement of Magma]. You walked toward it weakly but stopped when Floyd once again hold your shoulder.

“Hey, Shrimpy!” He whined to your ear. “I’ll take this one, okay?”

You turned around grabbing Floyd's hands. “No, please!” you screamed. “Why do you keep doing this?! What is wrong with you?!”

Floyd's eyes suddenly turned dark and he glared at you. “So noisy,” he muttered and you squeaked. He stepped forward, pushing you harshly out of the way. He turned his head one last time toward you, showing his grin filled with pride.

You staggered backward until your back hit the wall when the sound of the closing door echoed through the tower. You wanted to claw your face screaming in frustration. All of the [blessings]s. They stole them! They betrayed you! Was this their intention from the beginning when they offered to travel with you? Was every laughter, every warmth that you felt during your journey was a lie?

The door to the top of the tower finally slid open. Your grip on the unlighted torch tightened. You had come this far, might as well finish it, right? Desperately ignoring the growing despair inside of you, you stepped up the stairs toward the top.

Up there, you found the altar you supposed to lit up, along with nine statues, each of them was holding a red candle in its hands. A silhouette you don’t recognize stepped from behind the altar, but you could hear a sound similar to a tapping cane onto the floor from each step the silhouette took.

“Welcome, oh, chosen [Messiah],” the silhouette spoke, “I was sent by the gods to greet you.”

You bit your lips. “But… I didn’t get the [blessings].”

The silhouette chuckled. “My dear, those are the gods’ [punishments] to the world.”

[Punishments]?

All of the sudden, you could hear them. Your family. Their screams filled your ears as they endured the cruel torture from the world. But, even between their cries, you could hear them whispered directly toward you.

“Even though being drowned in the rough sea…” Azul…

“Dancing in hellfire…” Kalim…

“Helplessly falling on to my knees in the merciless drought…” Leona…

“Losing my mind and forever trapped in the eternal darkness…” Ruggie…

“Swallowed by the great earth…” Jamil…

“Don’t worry, my dear. We will not let you go to face everything all on your own!”

You fell onto your knees, tears never stopped flowing from your eyes as you stared at the messenger, pleading that this isn’t real. There’s just no way this is the truth. That your family suffered for you…

“Even though being struck by the judgmental lightning…” Malleus…

“Torn up by the hurricane…” Riddle…

“Frozen to the bones and soul…” Jade…

“Crawling through fire…” Floyd…

“In sickness and in health, we will never stop believing that we will face all our fortune and pain as one!”

Of course. Of course, it had to be that. They knew about this. They knew that if you travel alone you would suffer everything all on your own. And they just couldn’t let you shoulder the weight of the punishments alone. That way they were willing to throw their lives for you and choose to take the torture behind the door.

They didn’t have to do it this far. But they chose to do it.

All of it just for you.

And you thought they betrayed you.

“I’m sorry…” you whispered. “I’m sorry…” But you knew that even a thousand apologies won’t fix anything. A million apologies wouldn’t bring them back. The only thing you could do was to finish the job given to you. Even with the little strength and will left inside of you, you just had to step forward a little bit more. If not for the world, for them.

Raising the torch that you’ve won with your friends high to the sky, you lowered your head. Your tears wouldn’t stop falling down your just like the candles in the hands of the nine statues. They melted and flowed toward the altar, lightening up the Fire of Life that you’ve been trying to reach this whole time.

As heard the sound of the bell with all its triumphant glory, you raised your head, listening to the messenger’s final words.

You, the [Messiah], smiled bitterly to yourself.

You’ve created the nine [sorrows].

Raising your hand to the altar, a beam of holy light shone out. The former dark sky turned into the familiar blue. The dry land had turned green and all the plants lived again. You’ve restored the world. All of you restored the world.

If you had to be honest, you didn’t know what you should do, knowing that you now lived in a world where they didn’t exist.

But... Maybe you could try…

If it wasn’t for you… Maybe you could do it for them…

You didn’t want to waste their sacrifice, right?

So… Live on…

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We have reached the +250 Tumblr Followers mark! Thank you so much. I know I haven’t been writing that much recently and most of my pages are uncoordinated at this point, but still! Thank you so much for your support.

I found that video a while ago and I know I just have to write it. I’ve actually written something based on “Blessed Messiah and the Tower of AI” from a different fandom, but it was too long and a bit confusing if I want to straight up adapt it to Twisted Wonderland. So instead, I just write based on the full video instead of extending it.

Also, originally I want to insert my MC/OC since technically this is considered a Gaiden episode, but I decided to change it to Twisted Wonderland x Reader because it might be more impactful of you can directly insert yourself into the story. Ah… The betrayal…

Well, anyway. Thank you for reading!

[highsviolets]

like real people do, chapter one: obi-wan x handmaiden!reader

summary: in which you and obi-wan stumble into each other’s acquaintance through accidents of honor and pleasure

word count: 3k-ish

cw: brief, brief allusion to body dysmorphia in first paragraph after part one (a). 

A/N: WOW it’s finally here!!! my handmaiden x obi fic!! my first multi chapter!!  anon you are so patient. thank you for bearing with me as i developed this concept and finally got words onto paper. This lil chapter takes place at the beginning of AOTC and sets the scene for all sorts of shenanigans. pls be gentle folkx i am v nervous i hope you love these idiots honorable humans as much as i do. 

*if this is your gif pls lmk!* 

like real people do, a fic by corellians-only 

prologue

Glamor. Satin. Hapan wine and curtseys and a diplomatic accent polishing over your country roots and the knife strapped to your thigh and a propensity to linger in shadows. This is your life, as handmaiden to Senator Padmé Amidala. This is your duty.

Grime. Sweat. Clone armies and custom armour and a commission muddling the balance of peace and deep-rooted affection and unwavering devotion to the Jedi Order. This is Obi-wan’s life, as High General of the Republic. This is his duty.

You meet before the chaos erupts, though, before it spills over the senate security and the temple’s walls and starts incinerating the foundations of life itself.

You meet before the chaos erupts, but your acquaintance is tangled with its aching tendrils. You do not see each other, at first. So many things are in the way. But slowly, gently, acquaintance forms into friend forms into companion forms into lover over cups of tea and night watches and snatched moments of vulnerability in a world that is determined to wrest your soul from your body. Armor and silk and robes are stripped away; duties that once swathed you tightly become more gentle. When you are together it is just you and him, but when you are in the world you are handmaiden and he is general.

But we are getting ahead of ourselves: let us go back to the beginning, when the wholeness was yet separate. Let us go back to the beginning, and meet ourselves anew. Let us go back to the beginning, where everything divines its purpose.

part one (a)

Shimmersilk voile glistens as you turn in the mirror. The tender glow of artificial sun lamps is enraptured by the diaphanous weave, and its metallic threads gleam under such ministrations. It’s a dress that drips with regality. A sense of noblesse oblige seems to ooze from every swish of the cape flowing from your cap sleeves, and you sigh. The act is heavy, and the cape grumbles as your shoulders heave with the motion. Brilliant flickers of gold and silver mock you as you continue to shift from side to side, scrutinizing your body from each angle. Another sigh leaves escapes through your nose, but this one is softer, gentler, more like the gossamer that now encloses you — more like the woman you been trained to be. You will never be as petite or slight as the Senator, but that, you observe, wrangling to adjust one final hairpin into your headpiece, was never quite the point. Your job is to stand in for her ladyship: not to assume her person.

The offending hairpin proves obstinate. You surrender to the cause and submit yourself to an evening of faint wisps of curled hair framing your face. Wisps of hair are too spontaneous. You must be crisp, but it is not about what you want — not in these petty, mundane expressions of living.  

While you have been doing battle a figure has entered the room. It’s one of the Senator’s new Jedi protectors, if the robes are any indication. Without fanfare he approaches you and plucks the pin from your fingers, like he is intimately acquainted with such things and communes with them on a daily basis. Gentle fingers — though, the bruised knuckles tell you they are not immune to struggling against life’s grip — smooth the hair at the crown of your head before he slips the pin into its rightful place, nudging into the golden circlet now held secure. The sleeve of his robe caresses your cheek, obscuring your vision, and you feel with your , rather than see, all of this occur.

“All of this” happens without sound, without breathing almost, as though the two of you have entered a vacuum that warps both space and time and sound.

The man takes a step back and paints himself with an apologetic smile, clasping his hands together in the privacy of his robe and offering you a half-bow.

“I apologize for the liberty, your ladyship.” The Jedi’s voice is precise. “I do hope I wasn’t too forward.” He announces every syllable, acknowledges every idiosyncratic whimsy, each grammatical proclamation.

You meet his gaze in the mirror, and despite the shadows casting about, you can detect the openness, the earnestness of his gaze. He holds no tension in his face, or anywhere else in his body, for that matter. It has been a long while since you have seen someone so at peace. Perhaps, hidden under the cloak, his fingers are grasping at themselves, trying to be rid of the vestiges of forbidden touches.

A half-smile graces your painted lips and you incline your head. The movement cuts but a short arc in the air’s currents, just as you have been taught. “It is no matter.” You toy with the idea of letting him continue to believe you are Padmé, the thought careening through your mind like a model airspeeder run amok. You let the thought crash. It is above you to engage in such petty games, you decide. Padmé would not do it, and it is your job to act as she does. Besides, the Jedi would know, wouldn’t he? Can’t they read minds with the Force? That’s what fisherman in your village used to say when you would let your feet dangle off the docks and graze the surface of the water and watch the boats come in with the day’s catch.

So you turn, then, the cape twisting behind you, and address him face-to-face. “I’m afraid you’re mistaken, Master Jedi.” You gesture to your twinkling gown. “I am not the Senator.” You catch the tail end of his frown as you avert your gaze, fixating on some unseen object just out of sight. “I am but one of her ladyship’s handmaidens.” You hear the clipped tone of your voice, the way every word is measured like cups of flour, like the yards of fabric for this dress, and you think you hate it, but you cannot tell.

“Oh, I am sorry.” The apology is sincere and bookmarked with amusement, and he rocks back on his heels. It seems he is laughing at his own mistake. “I must however, inquire after the whereabouts of her ladyship. The council has requested that my padawan and I escort her to this evening’s function.” The Jedi’s hands drop to his sides and the robes that shield them follow.

“I’m afraid the Senator has already departed,” you say, making for the exit. The Jedi matches your stride. “She left with another Jedi some twenty standard minutes ago. I presume it was your padawan, Master Jedi?”

“Blast!” he murmurs, but you hear his swearing and duck your head to hide your grin. “I’m sorry,” he apologizes again, throwing a glance your way. “I’m afraid my padawan has a mind of his own.”

“I think the Senator and your padawan will get along famously, then,” you remark wryly. You have reached the landing pad and are about to bid him a good evening when he climbs into the shuttle and extends a hand to guide you.

“May I be of assistance?”

Skin meets skin for the second time that evening. At this rate you will be more acquainted with his body than your own, and as you sense his muscles grow taut when you shift your weight to board, an unfamiliar sensation embeds itself among the metallic threads. It feels like when you have to receive the Chancellor when Padmé is away on business, or when you act as decoy traveling to and from Theed, but more subtle, more inviting.

“Thank you, Master Jedi.” Skin breathes on skin for one, two heartbeats and then the contact withers and he drops your hand.

A silence nestles over the two of you as the pilot races you over to the function. It persists as he helps you exit the shuttle and delicately rearranges your cape, ensuring the shimmersilk is matches the beams of fractured stars.

Obi-wan does not know why he does this; he does not understand why he feels the nudging of the Force to offer his arm like he is a chivalrous courtier, but he obeys. It is his duty to obey the will of the Force, so he does.

part one (b)

The function teems with lifeforms, and each one spars for attention. They are wrapped in chiffon and decked in damask robes and fine crystals compete for light so they can shine that much brighter. It’s some gala ostensibly designed to raise credits for a struggling cause, and it is like all the rest. A pathetic excuse for most Senators to say they are dedicated to more than greed.

To you, it reeks of Coruscanti power; to him, it stinks of politics.

The Jedi Master spots the Senator and her Jedi protector before you do, and he steers you in their directly, swiftly sidestepping curious glances and intoxicated beings. You manage to snag a glass of something from a passing tray.

He bows again, deeply. His hair seems to blend in with the crowd — it is copper and gold and refined.

“My lady,” he intones, and his voice sparkles like the gem-encrusted champagne flute in Padmé’s hand.

“It’s lovely to see you again, Master Kenobi.” She looks up at the gangly teenager by her side. Rich chocolate and licorice colored robes complement the Senator’s wine-colored gown. It’s a striking image, despite the youth’s awkwardness, here in the blurry illumination of the cavernous room.  

Padmé breaks into a full smile as she spots you lingering at Kenobi’s side. “I see you’ve met my handmaiden.”

“I suppose I have,” he says, examining you anew, “although I’m afraid introductions got swept away in the excitement.”

You think he sounds as unaffected by “the excitement" as one could possibly be, and the duplicity gnaws on your gentility.

You sip while Padmé sweeps together strands of lore about your service, about your loyalty, about your selflessness. The beverage is sweet and sparkling, rather like your gown, and like your dress, it feels sticky and cloying and altogether fake for something that tries so hard to be real. But you smile and nod and once more his skin melts into yours as he shakes your hand.

“The honor,” he says in that voice colored with melody, “is all mine.” You look into his cerulean eyes and wish, dimly, in that part of your brain untouched by starlight, that he had said pleasure.

Padmé’s eyes flicker between you and him, but the moment has passed. She pulls you away, citing the need for diplomatic business and brushes aside her escorts with a firmness she seems to have possessed since birth.

The pair of you wander through the crowd. You are always one step behind, always letting her be the first person they see. She is wearing her favorite designer tonight, and you wonder, taking another sip as she holds court with Bail Organa, why she has commissioned such a work of art for tonight’s event.

Like yourself, the Senator has opted for airy materials matched with splendor. And yet, her garb lacks your ethereality: the deep burgundy smacks of something firmly rooted in rich soil even as you strain heavenward. Tulle and satin are artfully draped over her lithe form, and beaded crystals cover her from head to toe. An open back reveals creamy skin. More than one being in the hall has dragged their eyes over the Senator’s body, straining to glimpse more, more, more, in the dim light.

The Senator pays them no mind. When she concludes her business with Organa, she refreshes her glass, and yours, and tucks you in her side. You begin to walk. It is an aimless thing, but not purposeful — now is when you see who is here, and who is not, who is watching, who pretends to look away, and who slips out unnoticed.

“How did you meet Master Kenobi?” you ask.

“Oh, it was years ago.” Padmé drinks. “I was still Queen at the time.”

“And?” Back in those days, she had retained at least a dozen of Naboo’s finest young women. Now, it’s just you and few others.

“And that was when we met,” she announces. “He’s very famous, you know. So is his padawan, Anakin Skywalker. They’ve protected at least half the galaxy.”

Confusion contorts your features, carving rivers in your forehead. “I’ve never heard of them.”

Padmé laughs, but the expression is faint, almost undetectable. Senators do not typically jest with their bodyguards. “That’s because you think anyone who reports on the Jedi is a gossip-mongering snob and you refuse to read anything about them.” She squeezes your arm and drops her voice to a whisper. “Don’t know know they’re the ones who write all the good stuff?”

“All…the good stuff,” you echo, voice flat and uncomprehending.

Padmé simply rolls her eyes and resume her stride. “They’re in charge of my security now, with Captain Typho. I expect that you’ll be working closing with Master Kenobi. Please help him fulfill his mandate from the Council in anyway you can.”

The mere suggestion of working with that man twists your insides. It’s the same feeling from earlier, swirling and basing into unease. Work with a Jedi? A famous one? The ache anxiety you are used to. It is familiar and it is your unwelcome companion but you have made peace with each other. This — this is something new. This is a grinding jaw and a drawbridge heart and hot and cold dueling for dominance in your stomach and something so strangely akin to anger. You drink more champagne to mask the disconcerting sensation.

part one (c)

The Senator is being pulled away, now, to a group of prominent Senators to discuss the new child labor protection regulations. She does her job and you do yours, melting into the shadows, embracing them, keeping eyes on all those who gather near to your mistress.

Master Kenobi’s sudden appearance at your side does not surprise you, though perhaps it should.

“Are you quite sure you’re able to keep watch on her ladyship from this distance?” His words are no longer melodic. They come to your ears dry and flinty, the way rocks feel without the rain to abate their constancy.

“Quite.” You fail to elaborate because there is simply nothing more to say.

“Your disguise is quite effective. You must pass along my compliments to Captain Typho and the rest of the security team.” He tries again, but you refuse to be endeared. He is stubborn, just like you — he resists being broken down by your cool acidity.

“Thank you, Master Kenobi.” You finally meet his gaze. “I was worried it would be too intricate, but the Senator assured me I had selected the perfect piece. It’s just enough like her for people to not look twice.”

“You engineered this?” Master Kenobi’s body is static, but his face swells with vivacity. A minuscule gesture to the left, an arching eyebrow, a corner of his mouth quirks upwards, ascending to meet his eyes.

“It’s my job,” you return, but the pH of your tone has neutralized somewhat. You are uncomfortable, so you try to tease him. “Maybe one day I can show you how to use all the weapons I have under this gown, and you will believe I can do my job.”

You regret the tawdry joke immediately when he shifts and looks away. “I’m sorry I’ve offended you, my lady.” Master Kenobi analyzes you, then the Senator, and sighs heavily. “I see you have everything well in hand. I shall bid you good evening, then, my lady.” He bows and exits in a boiling mass of robes, his padawan not far behind. Anakin Skywalker lingers on the threshold, gazing into the crowd, eyes frantic, but his Master beckons and he follows obediently.

part one (d)

It is not until early morning, during that brief moment between night and dawn, that you are able to think clearly about the strange feeling gurgling in your chest.

You think of Master Kenobi and his sentimental hair and the caramel of his accent. You wonder about his hands grazing yours, how your fingers curled so naturally around his, the ghost of fingertips in your hair. You consider his attempts at gallantry, at his fealty to his duty, to Padmé embrace of his presence and her lavish praise.

And you ask yourself what would it have been like, if he were just a boy, and you were just a girl, and maybe if he had danced with you he could have respected you more, and maybe if you had been less defensive he would have been more contrite, and you laugh at yourself.

Silly girl, you think as sleep nibbles at your vision. Those are not our kind of dreams.

tbc.

[putschki1969]

Hi Sarah! How's everything going? ヽ(・∀・)ﾉ I wanted to ask you if you know of any interviews were Consolation (the song) is discussed. Also, what is your interpretation of the song? I was randomly going around YT and got to hear this amazing piece live by our utahimes and got curious about it. Hope I don't bother you, thank you in advance!~ヾ(・ω・)

Hi there!!

Sorry, my reply is long-overdue. This has been sitting in my drafts for a very long time. “Consolation” is hands down one of Kalafina’s BEST songs, I LOVE IT SO MUCH. Especially the live version from their 9+ONE tour. Everyone needs to check it out in case they haven’t yet.

Back when the album was released I wasn’t as involved in the fandom as I am now and my Japanese was also not that great so I didn’t really know of any interviews where they discussed the song in detail. I had also never really taken a close look at the lyrics before.

Oh well, I thought I would use the opportunity to dig a little deeper. After a quick search I came across two interviews that provide a bit of insight regarding the album and the title song. I also tried to delve into the world of the lyrics and see what I could come up with.

My simple interpretation based on my findings 〈(•ˇ‿ˇ•)-→

I believe the song is fundamentally about the dilemma of wanting two things that are mutually exclusive. On the one hand you wish to find peace, relief and consolation but on the other hand you are greedy and you cannot stop wanting more. Since it seems you can’t have both you resign yourself to finding solace in the suffering you are enduring while struggling to fulfil all of your desires.

Below the cut you can check out my interview and lyric translations〈(•ˇ‿ˇ•)-→

Repotama Interview

Re album title and concept: Humans are greedy creatures by nature. There is a constant struggle to fulfil one’s own desires and ultimately there is also a wish to feel a true sense of comfort and consolation. However, one can never reach a point of absolute satisfaction but we might find consolation in the fact that having needs and desires is the only constant in our lives.

Re song: Due to its “coined words chorus” the song becomes quite exciting for the listeners. Our three distinctive voices are heard very clearly, Hikaru expresses a “fierce energy and determination regarding the fulfilment of one’s desires” and Wakana changes the song completely with her soothing and comforting vocals conveying a sense of “finding consolation amidst your struggles”. The duality which is expressed through those two voices enables you to fully enjoy Kalafina’s singing power.

Animate Times Interview

Re album title and concept: Consolation, relief and satisfaction are usually seen as something that stands in glaring contrast to our desires but maybe true comfort and consolation can be found within the suffering we are enduring in our constant pursuit of happiness and our struggles to fulfil our desires.

Re song: ――The title song『consolation』 feels extremely passionate, hard and energetic. One of its charms is the use of rare words such as  「むごたらしい / mugotarashii / incredibly brutal」, something that might not work for other songs.

Hikaru：I sang this word with a sense of unease, like feeling trapped *laughs*

Keiko："This song is hard so you can’t just use ordinary words in it”, that’s what Kajiura-san told us smiling wearily, this was one of her main worries regading the lyrics *laughs*. The melody is dramatic and the overall sound feels hard and unforgiving. When we listened to the music track my first impression was, “oh my God, this is so hard, where am I gonna breathe?” Kajiura-san’s inspiration for the music is also heavily reflected in the lyrics so I guess that’s why she was seeking out words that are rarely used in everday life. She also opted to have lines that are neither Japanese nor English but instead Latin. We have had elements of Latin in our songs before but in this particular song we all thought that Latin would be a particularly perfect fit.

――The part where you sing ＜Quo Vadis Domine？＞ right? The passion of the song and the Latin really go well together.

Keiko：It means＜Lord／Where are you going?＞. Since this is the title song of the album I think that Kajiura-san chose the lyrics very carefully in order to encourage many different interpretations, the words are supposed to stretch one’s imagination. Initially I thought the words were very difficult but as time went by I realised that the words were actually quite simple and raw. People seek comfort and relief, in order to reach that goal we are living our lives filled with greed, always thinking, “I want this or I want to be like that”. Hikaru is the one embodying this determination, this bundle of desires with her fierce vocals. Wakana on the other hand is the one who is asking with her voice, “is there any relief or consolation awaiting me at the end of it all?” I think those two things come across very clearly in the song.  It’s been about a month since we have finished the album production, after talking with Kajiura-san and singing the song together with the other two members as well as singing it by myself I think I can finally say that I understand the meaning of it. Also, I think the song was very difficult for you Wakana, wasn’t it?

Wakana：Yes. I sang this without any boundaries which was quite fun but it was also very hard. There are parts of the song that make total sense and other parts that are completely inconsistent, as such the song feels very raw and human.

―― There is a sense of “self-contradiction”“, like you are stuck having to choose between mutually exclusive alternatives. ＜Yet the greedy heart keeps reaching out / Unable to give up / Until it sleeps, satiated / It’ll take the darkest path＞. These lines very clearly express this sort of self-contradiction, on the one hand you are greedily seeking something while at the same time you are hoping to find peace and solace. I guess that’s a very human thing to do.

Wakana：Kajiura-san told us,"comfort and consolation are the opposite of desire, aren’t they?” People are motivated by their needs and desires "because comfort alone does not provide satisfaction”.

English Lyrics (taken from the Consolation booklet, with a few minor alterations)

Breathing alone won’t make wishes come true Please grant me tears and sorrow So I may go in deeper

Your God, so brutally beautiful Loved only those that were destroyed utterly and furiously

Quo Vadis Domine? A voice that can hardly be called a prayer I know one day your wishes alone will be answered

To the base of the taut sky We carry our burden And walked in haste as if to run away

Slowly, the first stars Shed light on your way Glittering in the pale depth of the valley

Quo Vadis Domine? One day I hope you will find consolation But if the heart remains wanting It will be unattainable

Yet the greedy heart keeps reaching out Unable to give up Until it sleeps, satiated It will take the darkest path

The soul that wants to devour all Spit out the dream it had clung to And shouted, “have mercy on me!”

Quo Vadis Domine? One day I hope you will find consolation When all has been burnt to pieces I believe you will finally reach your goal

[witcher-of-the-northern-kingdoms]

The Beast of the Forest

Request: For a request, Perhaps Geralt and Jaskier get robbed by a band of thieves, who is led by a Robin Hood like character (the reader). Upon being captured and led to their encampment, jaskier notices the Geralt likes her because she has created a safe haven for a multitude of magical creatures who wish to live in peace Mx she is a fucking badass btw

So excited to write my first Witcher imagine! Hope you enjoy

TW: Language, graphic imagery

They never saw the attack coming. Jaskier was a distraction, and Geralt concluded that this would be the last time the bard would follow his track, if they survived (this was a common thought, from the elves to the djinn). Their hands were bound, back to back and in a dark room. Jaskier couldn’t see anything(nor would he if he were awake), but Geralt’s vision caught the silhouettes of figures looming around them. His head throbbed from the blow of the hilt of a blade, and anger boiled at the thought of being separated from not only his blades, but Roach as well. If anything happened to her - 

“Well well,” a voice disrupted the thoughts of the Witcher, stepping through what appeared to be a doorway with a candle barely illuminating their face. “What have we here?” Your voice purred from your lips as you examined the two men. The bard was groaning in annoyance, mumbling protests to his companion and the surrounding party. You lean down in front of the more intriguing one, with white hair extending passed his shoulders, and piercing golden eyes that watched you with stoic stubbornness. “A witcher? In my forest?” Your brow cocked as you studied his face, before your smirk grew wider. “Not only that, but the butcher of Blaviken!” A slight chuckle escaped you as you stood up. 

“Let the bard go,” Geralt began, his voice metallic and harsh, his accent dripping with Revalian descent. “Do what you will with me, but the human has done nothing.” His plead was heartwarming, but your smirk did not falter. 

“Now, why would I let our new performer go when we would love some entertainment? His ballads of you are quite catchy,” you announce, and chuckles erupted from around the group, obviously the band of misfits that immediately jumped the Witcher and bard. You slightly hum the popular tune, pacing around them like a cat ready to pounce on its prey. “Let’s say your coming into this forest is a blessing, dear Witcher.” You wave your fingers over the flickering flame of the candle. “We may not have much to offer other than your bard’s life, but we have a monster for you to deal with.” The cocky nature of your expression faltered for only a moment, but Geralt caught on. He knew this was more than greed, people’s lives were at stake. Still, the circumstances pissed him off. 

“I won’t do shit for you…” He muttered through gritted teeth, but something tugged at him. “Not unless you let the human go.” Geralt was a stubborn man, but if there were people in need, he’d help, regardless of the situation (though this one tested his patience).

“Oh in the mood for bargaining hm?” Your eyes wandered from the silver hair to that of the music man, still passed out from the potion. Silence loomed the air as you thought, but your pride wasn’t without falter. “And what will stop you from attacking once he’s free?” You inquired, though you had already made your decision.

“My word.” His tone was clear, if not raspy. You’d have to trust a Witcher was good for his world? Alright then. You leaned down, a hidden blade revealing itself as it pressed against the bard’s wrist and swiped up, ridding him of the restraints as his body toppled over. That seemed to be enough to rise him from slumber as you repeated the motion on Geralt. 

“Fuck! Good god…. Where - Geralt! Where are we?” Jaskier pushed up from the ground, rubbing dirt from his brow as he looked into the darkness. You nodded once to those watching the situation, and they began to filter out. Geralt realized they were there in case things turned sour against their leader. The witcher rubbed his wrists and stood up, ignoring the noisy man stumbling up. 

“Where is this monster?” He muttered, staring down at you with golden eyes. He was a good head taller than you, and the broad of his shoulders led him to be an intimidating individual. Still, you stood your ground, silence as you lead him out of the tent. 

Geralt had expected a lot of things; hooligans sharpening weapons, bandits fighting each other, mayhem in the camp of thieves. What he couldn’t anticipate was being wrong. Creatures that would only be susceptible to his silver blade wandered around, from elves to sylvan, even a bruxa walked around, daylight beaming on her skin. All lived in peace, but Geralt’s hand twitched for his sword, especially for the monsters he’s encountered before. He watched with suspicion, as a young cyclops - at least, younger than Geralt knew they could be called out. 

“Y/N!” The young girl shouted, running up to you and tugging your shirt. You leaned down to the young ones height as she whispered in your ear, and a warm smile touched your lips, resting a hand on your shoulder. 

“Well, you tell Miron that if he doesn’t show you respect, I’ll show him my boot!” You joked, lightly kicking out your foot as the girl laughed and ran off. Geralt watched carefully as Jaskier tried to come up with a plan, whispering all too loudly to Geralt, who was point blank ignoring him. Few things surprised the Witcher, but seeing creatures that would often meet the end of his sword talking intelligently to what appears to be nothing more than a human caught him off guard. 

“Y/N, was it?” Geralt asked, cocking a brow as you turned to him. “What is this monster your talking about?” Reality returned to you as you responded, looking back at him momentarily as you made your way to the edge of the camp. 

“We’ve recently had… animal attacks, at least, that’s what I’m saying.” Your tone was hushed, almost whisper to yourself, but you knew the heightened senses of the Witcher could hear. As you got closer to the edge and farther from the citizens, you continued. “He attacks at midnight, no earlier or later. We notice a circle of ash surrounded by the victims remains. We call him the Beast, but he has to be a-”

“A hellhound.” Geralt finished, watching you with careful eyes. You nod in confirmation.

“Not only that, he’s been turning our dogs into barghests, killing them and summoning his lackeys into their corpses.” You spoke this through gritted teeth, your own deer pet becoming susceptible to the attack. The empathetic side of Geralt understood, but his exterior was stoic.

“And you need me to kill it.” He continued, and you looked back at him as you stood at the edge of the forest. 

“We can’t compensate you, our funds go to those who are in need, which renders us broke.” You crossed your arms over your chest, not in defiance but in worry.

“Well, we’re poor-” Jaskier began, before feeling the brute end of Geralt’s elbow. 

“We’ll discuss compensation after the beast is killed. Can’t have a demon roaming on this plane.” Geralt said calmly, watching you carefully as you relaxed, another genuine smile touching your lips. 

“I thank you for your generosity, considering the circumstances.” You nodded to the camp, reminding them of their capture.

“I should say so-” Jaskier began, baffled by Geralt’s choice. Then he remembered, Geralt acted this way when Yennefer had entered the bar. He accepted to be near the beauty. Perhaps this was a similar situation. The connection between you two was apparent, Jaskier’s voice managing to not interrupt the eye contact. 

“I’ll show you where you may stay until Midnight.” You mutter, walking passed the two as heat climbed your face. What you didn’t notice was a slight tug on the Witcher’s lips.

Nightfall came, Jaskier was fast asleep in the bearskin blankets as Geralt wrapped his armor around his body, fitting comfortably as he downed his tawny owl, grimacing for a mere second before making his way out of a guest tent. He looked through the darkness, feeling the breaths of different creatures from a mile away, including dogs that were not breathing like they should. Another breath intervened, that of a human, as well as steps coming towards him. Quicker than lightning itself, you felt steel on your neck, not entering your skin but enough pressure to make you halt. You felt your pulse quicken but that didn’t stop you from smirking.

“And I thought it was customary to take a girl out to dinner before pulling your sword on her.” You said calmly, though your heart rate betrayed you. Geralt side and dropped his weapon, looking up at you carefully.

“Didn’t your mother ever tell you not to sneak up on a Witcher?” He muttered rhetorically. That’s when you got a good look at his face. His eyes were dark, as if pupil encapsulated their entirety, his skin was like chalk, as if he were nothing more than a ghost. For some reason you felt your entire skin prickle under his gaze. 

“Where I’m from, it’s not very common to meet a Witcher.” You responded, forcing your voice not to waver. As you spoke, a howl rippled through the air, not close but not far. Both your gazes washed over the dark treeline. Geralt let out a quiet grunt.

“It’s time for you to go home.” He said, looking back towards you. Immediately you protested, pulling out your own blade. Any decent hunter, let alone a Witcher, would recognize the silver that would aid in cutting down a monster. 

“No, I’m helping. This is my home, my family. I’ve failed them already I can’t again.” Your brow furrowed. Geralt thought for a moment, looking over you closely. You were able bodied, strong, but all callouses looked new, no more than five years old. The determination was attractive to say the least, and the man felt the desire to never say no to you.

“Stay close.” He said, walking towards the treeline and into the darkness. You didn’t dare challenge his order. His steps were pure silence compared to yours, stalking his prey with a clumsy fool by his side.

“Why did you wander into these woods anyways? There’s no main road.” You nearly whispered so anyone listening couldn’t hear. 

“I could ask you the same.” He responded, deterring the conversation. You gnawed your lip deciding if you should offer your truth to him, and let out a sigh.

“My kingdom was attacked my Nilfgaard, same as the rest of the continent.” You muttered solemnly. “The main reason was my parents believed that humans and elves could live in harmony. While most of the world disagreed, Nilfgaard took action to… rectify the world of their rule.” Your words were quiet to the world, but Geralt heard everyone.

“So then…” Geralt insinuated, looking over to you as you nodded.

“I was, at one point, a princess.” A smile touched my lips, before looking back at the distant camp. “Now, I rule for them.” The witcher watched you closely as you talked, the way your eyes glistened as you reminisce about your past, how your fingers played with a lock of your hair. You were fascinating to him. 

“Explains the sword. You’re braver than most, Y/N.” He complimented, turning his gaze back to the trees. You were sure he could hear your heart pick up at his words, but you did nothing but smile.

“Thank you, Geralt.” you said softly, tightening your grip on your sword so you may calm your heart rate. “Well then, I believe it is your-”

Before you were able to speak, a large creature pounced on you, causing you to scream and the blade to fall from your grip. A burning sensation marked your shoulder as the beast gnawed into it, nearly ripping the skin from your bones. A blood curdling scream passed through your lips, the world white with pain. The gnawing ceased almost instantly, but the pain remained. You felt everything fall from you, unable to move, unable to scream. You could hear a call, but it sounded so far away. 

Your whole body ached, but more specifically your shoulder felt as if it would’ve been better if it was gone. Your eyes twitched open, wincing at the light around you as you slowly sat up. Your shirt was gone, upper body wrapped in clean cloth, a stain of blood running through where the wound was at its worst. You looked around to get your bearings, and saw a white haired man sitting in a chair, asleep. You slowly slid out of the bed, wincing at the throb on your shoulder as you walked over to Geralt, watching as his breath passed through his lips, he seemed so calm, the stoic air around him nothing more than a peaceful aura. You slowly slid onto your knees, studying his face as you pushed a strand a hair from his eyes. This was enough to cause him to stir, but you didn’t move. Neither did he, besides the flickering of his eyes opening, and a calming breath as  he looked over you. 

“You’re awake.” He said plainly though his eyebrows rose in subtle shock. 

“You saved my life.” You returned, gently resting your hand on his. “I have no idea how to repay you.” He looked down at the hand on his, twisting his palm to grab ahold of your fingers and raise them to his lips. They were softer than you expected as they pressed against your knuckle, and your heart raced in response.

“Survive.” He said calmly, setting your hand back down. You watched his gaze closely as you slowly sat up, closing the distance between the two of you. The lips that met your knuckles now kissed your own, his hand traveling to your cheek as you leaned into him. The feeling was euphoric, all to perfect.

That is, until a certain bard stormed through the tent. 

“Geralt, we can’t keep waiting for her, we must leave! I am not comf-...” Jaskier stopped in his tracks, forcing the two of you to separate, despite that being the last thing you wanted. Your forehead rested on his for a moment before you sat back and stood up. 

“Perhaps it is time you were on your way, I’ll ask someone to fetch your mare.” You smiled, slipping on a loose gown for modesty. It was hard with your arm, but with gentle maneuvering you made it. “Thank you, again.” You said calmly, stepping out of the tent. Many people were ecstatic to see you moving, and you requested Roach be returned to the Witcher. The exchange was much too fast, shortening the time between you and Geralt gazing at each other longingly.

“Maybe next time you’ll answer my question?” You asked, running your fingers along Roach’s snout. Geralt’s eyes were warm as he mounted his steed.

“Maybe.” He said calmly, nodding gently to you as he rode off, Jaskier close behind with annoying words carrying around the camp. Suddenly, the pain in your shoulder didn’t hurt much anymore, it was your heart that took the blow. 

You hoped he’d answer your question.