#around Gale the loss just... feels too immediate again

[invinciblerodent]

an unforeseen side effect of my boy discovering the power of friendship, and the fact that emotions and human connections are good actually, is that it comes with simultaneously discovering that he's at least lowkey attracted to two types of people exactly: those who project confidence on the outside, but are sweet, soft, and in need of comforting on the inside (not entirely unlike a frightened animal), and pretty men with long, brown hair looking at him through lowered lashes with big, dark eyes.

a downside to that is that his newly found friend group is half one, half the other, and Gale kind of sits in the exact middle of the Venn diagram like an appealingly plump toad on a rock.

Look at him. The thought behind this face is very much an ".... oh, I'm not indulging this thought. I'm burying this so quick, and so deep, that it suffocates immediately."

[dancingbirdie]

I saw you did a new submission for Astarion. Is it okay if I ask for another thing for Astarion who’s very submissive and whiny for your touch?

Hi anon! I hope I did your request justice. I was feeling a little angsty today and this is what came out. Feel free to submit another request if this didn't scratch your itch, so to speak.

As always, comments and reactions are appreciated.

xoxoxo

Bring Me Back

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Astarion x gn!Reader

Word Count: 1.3K

Warnings/Tags: Oral sex (Astarion receiving), slight hand/finger kink, body worship, mentions of blood & gore, trauma/trauma response, disassociation, fluff and angst and smut, p0rn with a little plot.

Summary: Astarion just needs some love and comfort from you after a particularly brutal fight.

*****

There was blood on his hands. Too much. Dried and crusted, saturating the wrinkles around his knuckles. He sat on the edge of the bed you were sharing, hands limp in his lap. 

He’d killed so many today. You all had, but he more so than anyone else. It had been a vicious battle, the reality of which seemed to be sinking into his bones now. 

“Astarion?” you ventured carefully. You were carrying in a water pitcher and basin you had pilfered from the cook’s quarters downstairs. 

He didn’t seem to register your voice. You tried again, moving cautiously to kneel on the floor before him. 

“Astarion?”

“Hmm?” he responded, his glassy eyes finally sharpening enough to take you in. “Oh, apologies, darling. My mind… it must’ve wandered.”

“Are you feeling all right?” you probed in a low murmur. 

“I feel…,” he trailed off, his head shifting to stare vacantly out the dingy window near the bedside. “Numb.”

“Numb?” you echoed.

“Mm. Disconnected, more like,” he amended distractedly. 

“Hm, I see,” you replied, unsure of what more there was to say. 

Certainly you could understand the feeling. And certainly it was justified, after the carnage you all had wrought today. No matter how noble the cause, things had still ended in a tide of blood and viscera. 

You were at a loss for how to comfort him. But the rational part of your brain settled on addressing the most immediate problem before you. Namely, the blood on his hands. 

“Astarion,” you soothed, waiting until he turned back to look down at you again. “I’d like to clean up your hands before we rest.”

He stared at you blankly. Then slowly, his gaze drifted down to his hands. He turned them over, palms up, studying them absently.

“Is that okay? Can I touch you?” you pressed. 

You knew his displeasure in being touched without warning. You’d seen his reactions frequently enough, on the road with your other companions. Each clap on the shoulder from Gale. Each good-natured shove from Karlach. His response was subtle, but not lost on you. He would grimace and shrink away. Every time.

“Touch me?” he repeated now, brows upturned.

“Yes,” you nodded. “To clean your hands of the blood, love.”

He shuddered. You watched as his fingertips twitched. His bottom lip trembled. 

“Please,” he uttered in a broken plea. 

You nodded again and set to work. Gingerly, you lifted each hand, cradling it with reverence. You passed the rag soaked in tepid, rose-scented water over each digit, in between them. You swiped under each nail, over each knuckle, clearing his fingers of blood, one by one. You soothed over his palms, over the patchwork of calluses on the pads of fingers, over the delicate skin of the backside of his palms. He watched you in silence as you carried out your cleaning, mesmerized. 

The basin was colored deep crimson by the time you finished. Grabbing a dry cloth, you patted his hands dry. You squeezed them both gently before moving to release them. You prepared to stand and get yourself ready for rest. 

But Astarion stopped you. His hands, once limp while you were caring for him, suddenly clutched yours desperately. Your eyes whipped up to meet his in surprise. They were limned in tears that had yet to fall. 

“Please,” he whispered in a desperate sort of voice. A whine, almost. “Don’t stop. Don’t stop touching me.”

You swallowed thickly, unsure of what to make of his plea. 

He plunged ahead at your reticence. “I can’t… I want to be here. In this moment. But I can’t find my way back,” he croaked. 

His voice, so broken, so desolate, was rending your heart in two. It was more than you could bear. 

“Touch me,” he begged. “Bring me back. Please.”

You nodded, never breaking eye contact, as you rose from your crouched position on the floor before him. Tears streamed silently down both of your faces. Neither of you made a move to wipe them away. 

Slowly, carefully, you urged him to shift back on the bed as your legs parted to straddle him. Perched atop his lap, you threaded your fingers through his silvery locks. Pulled on them slightly. Tugged at them until he groaned. 

His hands grasped your hip bones, hard enough that you were sure there would be finger-shaped bruises there tomorrow. You didn’t mind. You would cherish them, those marks from your lover. 

“Come back to me, love. Come back to me,” you whispered in between hot, open-mouthed kisses. Your tongues danced together, like old friends.

You nipped at the hollow place near his clavicle. You sucked on the skin where his neck met his shoulder. His needy, breathy whines only goaded you further. You hoped the fire that was igniting in your veins would transfer to his. If the way his hips were canting into you was any indication, you were both tinderboxes itching to be set ablaze. 

“Be here. Be here, in this moment with me,” you crooned in his ear, rolling your hips into his. You were both still fully dressed, but your bodies crested and fell together in perfect timing. A practice performance for what was to come. 

“Yes, yes,” Astarion keened, as you slipped a hand to brazenly rub the flat of your palm against his erection. The fabric of his breeches was strained to the point of stretching. 

“I’m here,” he panted. “I’m here.”

“Good, stay with me, I want to taste you,” you whispered. “Come back to me, let me taste you.”

“Fuck, please,” he moaned, his head drooping onto your shoulder. He was so pliant in this moment, like putty in your hands.

“Lie back,” you ordered, nudging him backwards with your body. “Untie your breeches.”

“Yes,” he agreed, all too eager to follow your command. Chest heaving, he reclined further back onto the bed. His fingers quickly set to work on freeing himself from his leathers. 

“That’s it, darling, yes,” you cooed, watching him bare himself before you. “Stay here with me. Watch me. Watch me keep you here.”

“Gods, yes, yes,” Astarion whined, lifting his head to witness you take him fully in your mouth. 

“Fuck,” you heard him bark wantonly above you. Felt his hips cant himself deeper into your mouth, until your lips were meeting the base of him. 

His dulcet whimpers and moans were music to your ears. As you worshiped him with your mouth. As you caressed him lovingly back into his body, back into this moment, back into this bed with you. 

You could sense he was close to climax as his hands gripped your hair tighter and tighter. You swirled your tongue around him with greater fervor, teasing him closer and closer to the edge. 

“Let me come in your mouth, please, darling, please,” he keened, hips bucking erratically against you. 

Refusing to bring him down from this high with words, you met his eyes and nodded your assent, gripping his thighs tighter as if to say go on then, love. 

And he did. He spilled himself down your throat in delicious pulses. You swallowed every bit, relishing his release as if it were your own. 

With a soft pop of your lips, you released him. Licked him clean, before stretching out to lie on the bed beside him.

His chest was heaving as he recovered. You delicately traced the muscles of his abdomen as he came to. After a few moments, he lifted a hand to clasp your fingers. Stilled them with his own as they interlaced on his chest. 

“Did you find your way back?” you whispered. 

He turned his head to look at you. His lips upturned in a quiet, muted sort of smile. 

“Thanks to you,” he returned quietly. “I’m here again. Here with you.”

[auroras-zenith]

what doesn't kill you // part 1

you had your whole life planned out for you; start an agency with your best friend, scale the charts and make japan your bitch. but when a tragic accident leaves you incapacitated and out of a job, you find you just need to start fresh. you cut ties–and for two years, you've all but disappeared. until they need you again and come knocking at your door.

bakugo x retiredpro!reader

previous ✧ next

The winds howled with a fury matched only by that lit within Katsuki Bakugo as he propelled himself forward at reckless speeds. The explosions emanating from his hands only aggravated the sky in its tantrum further. Fluorescent red and blue lights lit the night sky into day–a warning written into each flashing color.

It was a hard night to be a hero.

The villain had disappeared without a trace at some point during the fight–a cowardly move–but it was already far too late. The damage was done–spanning far across the expanse of several city blocks. Every hero in Japan was out, managing collapsing apartment buildings in the hundreds. The world waited with bated breath to see how things would pan out.

“South stairwell has fallen!”  The words were panicked and rushed, each staticky syllable striking a new bout of fear into the hero’s already erratic heart.  

“Deku! Civilians on the seventeenth floor! I can’t get them down without breaking the building!”

"We need backup!"

“Creati is down! We need to fall back!”

The blonde man felt his heart sinking. The heroes were spread too thin. They were losing ground. He had to call it at some point–had to cut his losses and count the bodies.

But how could they just leave? Even if the casualty count rose no higher, 182 loved ones would not return home to their families tonight–from this sector alone. He hovered midair for a moment, torn.

"Dynamight, we've got to go! The buildings structurally unsound!"

"You all get out! I'm not done yet. I'll leave when the building is clear!" You shouted, refusing to back down as you sprinted through the maze of debris.

“Tch! Cordelia! Rendezvous point! Now!” He made up his mind, shouting above the sound of the gales that threatened to knock him right out of the air. He changed course, guiding himself back toward where the rest were undoubtedly gathering.

"I've already told you! I'm not done till that whole building is empty, end of story. You go!"

"Cordelia, I'm not fucking with you, you hear me?!" He seethed. "Cordelia, do you copy! Don't start some self-sacrificing bullshit! Get your ass out, we're going!"

The silence that stretched through the night was fine at first–but then it was a second too long. And then several seconds too long. The eerie absence of sound chilled him to the bone, freezing him in his tracks. “Cordelia! Where the fuck are you at?”

He felt the blood in his veins turn to ice as he was met with the only sound worse than silence.

A blood curdling scream ripped through the comms, the crackly sound carrying evident agony.

“Crap!” He hissed, making an immediate 180. His annoyance was nothing more than a disguise–a clever mask that he could hide behind to feign confidence. In reality, he could feel his world shaking and crumbling to pieces around him. “I NEED EYES ON CORDELIA NOW! RED! SHE WAS WITH YOU LAST!” 

“She left with Chargebolt to the east quadrant!” 

“Chargebolt was taken out of the field for injuries!” 

“FUCK!” He shot through the sky, a comet of fear as unspoken worries and doubts flashed through his mind faster than he could shoot them down. He wasn’t supposed to fear–he was supposed to be feared. But you always had been his greatest strength–or perhaps you were his only weakness.

“I’VE GOT EYES ON HER, DYNAMIGHT! SHE’S BEEN HIT! EVERYONE GET TO THE RENDEZVOUS POINT, I’LL GET HER!”

"FUCK THAT, DEKU! I'M COMING!" The terror in his voice was practically contagious.

Midoriya felt the walls of the building crumbling apart around him–or maybe that was his world. The hit wasn’t looking good–clean through your spine. He slid to the floor, narrowly dodging a falling chunk of concrete.

“Cordelia! Cordelia, I need you to stay with me!” He demanded wildly as he willed his legs faster.

He had seen terrors of all shapes and sizes. Natural disasters that left everything in shambles, monsters that shook the earth with each step, but this…

He worked as he spoke, adrenaline working overtime as he rushed to lift you, sprinting as he navigated them both through the collapsing rubble as if you weighed nothing.

“Cordelia!” He felt his heart leap out of his chest as he saw your eyes threatening to close. “Cordelia! CORDELIA! Y/n! Y/n, please! He can’t lose you. I can’t lose you, Y/n!” He begged.

Your silence save for your labored and erratic breathing spurred his steps faster. A large piece of rubble fell from the roof, blocking the only exit.

“Shoto! I need a way out! Northeast stairwell’s compromised!” He shouted into his earpiece, heart beating louder than the sound of the building coming apart.

“DON’T MOVE, DEKU!” The world shook harder.

How could this be happening? Cordelia? His partner? The cofounder of the Dynadelia agency?

The wall in front of Deku and you shook, splintering into thousands of tiny rocks. The green haired hero moved to shield you with his body, his larger frame absorbing all the impact. He handed you off to the explosion hero without another word.

The blonde jumped without another word, using his explosions to slow his descent as he cradled you safely in one arm. Deku followed suit, using his quirk to slow his fall as well.

"MEDIC! WE NEED A MEDIC!"

It didn't take a genius to see he was losing them. He was losing two of his closest friends. One to the giant metal rod sticking through her abdomen, and the other to the deathly fear pounding through his head.

The world was silent tonight as the men plummeted to the floor, praying for Japan's fourth hero.

The hero world, praying for Y/n L/n.

a/n: goal is to not randomly ghost this cus i HATE when that happens to me

taglist: @floverisland @biancatomlinson @rosaryia

permanent tags: @phtmmsqrde

[alienoresimagines]

can you write [knuckles] for a kiss on the hand? thank you!!

I'm sorry this took so long, I hope you're still around 🥺❤️But here it is, 1.8k long despite my best efforts at keeping it under 1k 😅 I hope you'll like it 💕 Also on AO3 My other Clegan fics here

Never Coming Down (With Your Hand In Mine) | Buck x Bucky

The radio they managed to find doesn't tell them much of interest regarding the Allies’ troops and their progress, but writing any tidbits of information down gives John something to focus on that isn't this camp, this life that isn't really a life but that isn't death either, just some in-between that John is stuck in, unable to do anything or be useful. One foot in the grave and every day wishing a bit more it was both. In the darkest corner of his mind, he thinks that perhaps his death would save Gale from tiring himself to the bone trying to keep John tethered to Earth. Maybe, at least then, he could be useful to Buck. 

The thought is squashed away almost immediately, guilt crawling in his throat. Those few days after Gale had gone down over Bremen were the worst in John's life. The certainty that he was now a piece of something that would never be whole again, with no home to fight for anymore, had been the most excruciating pain John's ever known. Over the course of just a few months, he’s lost more friends than he can count, each loss cutting deeper. But losing Gale hadn’t just felt like losing a limb. From the moment Red’s distorted voice reached his ears through the phone - “He went down swinging, John” - he was an empty shell walking, his chest hollow with no heart, some vital part of him missing. No matter how miserable this camp makes him, wishing such agony on his best friend, his better half is unbearable. If only to spare Gale any additional pain, he’ll plant both feet in the mud until they stop trying to get him closer to that barbed-wire fence. 

Yet, despite desperately wishing Gale out of harm’s way, his being chained to the dirt with him is John’s saving grace. In the darkness of the Stalag, Gale shines brighter than the North Star, and John fights every day to keep himself from the fog in his head to grasp at this soft golden light. It's easier at night, the weight of Gale in his arms a grounding presence, the distinct smell of him feeling more and more like home, but John is starting to make it through some days always there too. Listening to the radio also helps, especially when most days, it's just him and Gale at the table, the others keeping watch on the guards from outside. Soon it'll be too cold for them to do so without it being suspicious or dangerous for their own health, but for now, John is glad he gets to spend more time alone with Gale. His ma always said he fights tooth and nail for those he loves, and right now, he's desperately grasping at the fading rays of sunlight, selfishness be damned.

Today, the BBC doesn't have any interesting news to keep hold of his attention for long, so he mostly scribbles down what he hears without making sense of the words strung together, too focused on the solid presence of Buck on his right. With both of them being right-handed, it would have been too much of a hindrance to be pressed close enough for their shoulders to touch, but their knees knock together every so often, like silent banter. It sends sparks of warmth down John's spine, the focused tilt of Gale's mouth only amusing him in his boredom. In the past five minutes, he's sent his knee against Gale's in soft presses, alternating between lingering and fleeting touches until the word B-U-C-K is successfully floating in the air, though the man himself seems entirely unaware of it, tongue darting between his lips in concentration. Bucky's debating coding G-A-L-E, just to see if the rare occurrence of his given name will snap the other out of his focus when said man grunts softly as he scribbles, pencil scratching the paper as it nears the edge. John mindlessly hands him a blank piece of paper, more than attuned to all the different ways the other has to ask for something without voicing his desires, eyes trained on the stray blond curl falling on Buck’s forehead. Without lifting his eyes from his piece of paper, Gale extends a pale hand to take John's offering, the contact of their fingers sending a jolt through John's blood. He lets out a yelp, slightly jerking back before diving in to hold Gale's hands between his own, Buck's sound of confusion and protest as his pencil is thrown out of his hold swallowed by John's cursing.

"Jesus, Buck, your hands are fuckin' freezing." John doesn't feel particularly warm but the difference in temperature between both their hands is such that he half-expects the air to start hissing. How Gale can still move his fingers is a mystery to him, and his gut goes tight with worry. Trying to rub warmth back into those hands, John brings them to his face so that he can blow hot air on long fingers. He's deeply aware of how intimate the gesture is, especially in a place like this, and he can feel heat rising to his cheeks but he focuses stubbornly on his task. Keeping his eyes on those hands he’s never held so close to his face is a necessary precaution to ensure he doesn’t dismiss any inch of skin in his mission to warm them enough that he doesn’t have to worry about them falling off, and it has the additional effect of allowing John to study them without fearing being caught.

Gale's hands truly are beautiful. They've always been, and in the years he's known the other, John has spent more time than he probably should have admiring them. How they wrap in a strong grip around the yolk to wield a metal fortress effortlessly, how long, slender fingers bring a toothpick to the plump curve of his lips. Calluses on fingers and rough palms that were still so gentle and kind when they tended to John's wounds just a few months ago. Today, they look frail and dry, the knuckles angry red and cracked from the cold. It hurts to even look at them, those hands that were more suited for piano and gently guiding horses across fields now cracked by misery and cold. Acting on an urge, he presses a kiss to the knuckles of both, a silent promise to warm them and get them better, to get them far from weapons and barbed fences, and back to horses and piano and books.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he can see Gale blinking owlishly at him, perfectly still. Between them, the radio crackles, words floating in the air but never making it to any paper. After a few more seconds, Gale's voice rises too, soft despite his usual deep southern drawl.

"I need my hands back, Bucky." John frowns, still rubbing his palms over Gale's hands to warm them. Admittedly, he knows Gale can't write with his foot, even though imagining it almost makes him smile, but really, nothing the BBC is broadcasting right now is worth the risk of Gale losing his hands to the cold. Unconsciously, he brings Gale's hands closer to his face, just shy of nuzzling them with the tip of his nose, already thinking of all the ways he could get them warm. It would be, like many things, easier at night. With the cold, everybody has taken up to sharing a bunk and no one would notice if Gale's hands were pressed to his skin, under his shirt. Even though the thought of those icicles against more sensitive skin than his palms isn't exactly a pleasant one, he'd do it in a heartbeat. For the day, when it would be too risky for John to hold Gale's hands in his pockets, maybe he could find him some gloves, at least make mittens out of socks, to soften the blow of the cold and the sting of the wind. 

"Bucky ?" Eyes snapping to Gale's, he finds him with his head slightly tilted to the side, cheeks red from the cold. It's then he realizes he still has both of Gale's hands in his. The other looks at him and then back at his paper before raising his brows in a silent question, making John huff. Reluctantly, he lets go of Gale's right hand but immediately cradles his left hand on his lap. He hopes Gale will be satisfied with this, but the other keeps looking at him insistently, a fond glint in his eyes but brows slightly furrowed, as if his left hand being held in both of John's is a math problem he can’t solve.

At the silent question, he rolls his eyes and makes a show of putting his own left hand on the upper part of Gale's paper, making sure it doesn't move from its spot on the table. The paper is smooth against his fingertips, contrasting with the rough feel of the wooden table that has given them more than their fair share of splinters on his palm. He misses the feeling of Gale’s hands in his. For a moment, he had felt whole in a way he usually only feels at night. Gale's hand is starting to get warmer in his, the skin rough from the cold, but John has never held something as delicate and precious as it, save for Gale himself.

Resting their joined hands on his lap, he intertwines their fingers and fights down the blush he can feel creeping up his neck, eyes resolutely on the paper in front of the other. There’s no reason to feel nervous, they’ve slept in each other’s arms so often by now it really shouldn’t matter, but something about the fact that this isn’t about survival forces him to take a deep breath before moving. With one slide over the bench, his side is pressed to Gale’s, shoulders rising and falling in tandem. He’s glad to notice that Buck isn’t as cold as his hands, warmth seeping from his side to John’s as rapidly as the tension leaves the set of his shoulders until he’s pressing back into John.

They'll work slower like that but Gale doesn't protest nor take his hand away, only resettling slightly so his thigh also rests against John’s. Tentatively, he risks a glance at Gale and finds him looking down at the table, face still red but from something John has an inkling isn't the cold anymore, biting his bottom lip softly but mouth nonetheless quirked upwards. It takes every ounce of strength and self-restraint in him not to kiss him, to smother the affection blooming in his chest. Instead, after a bit of silence in which he feels he might suffocate on pent-up love, John squeezes Gale's hand in his and the other seems to focus back on his task, startled. Clearing his throat, Gale starts scribbling again, pointedly avoiding looking to his left, but John doesn't mind, a smile spreading his cracked lips, fondness written plain on his face as he doesn’t look away for a second.

On his lap, Gale squeezes his hand back.

[brotherwtf]

[ TEARS ]: sender shows up at the receiver's door in tears and in need of comfort after a long day for clegan :)

GAHH so good I'm actually obsessed

-----

John was not expecting Gale Cleven to appear at his door, and he never would have expected Gale Cleven to show up at his door in the pouring rain with tears running down his face.

He hadn't seen Gale since his wedding, had been writing him inconsistently during those years, and had almost worried that Gale had forgotten about him.

But here Gale was, standing on his porch soaking wet and with wet blotchy eyes that could only be explained by hours of sobbing.

"Hey, Buck, what's goin' on?" John asks, and it's almost like the words cut the puppet strings on Gale because he immediately slumps into John's arms, choking on a sob as John stumbles back into his house.

He clumsily closes the door with Gale in his arms, wincing at how wet his clothes were now, but refused to let go of Gale in this state. He guides them to the kitchen table, urging Gale to sit and starting the kettle on the stove.

"Buck, come on what's buggin' ya? Manitowoc's pretty far from Casper," John says and it pulls the ghost of a smile on Gale's lips.

He looks up at him with red eyes full of so much sadness that John almost breaks down himself, but he schools himself and takes Gale's hand in his, rubbing a gentle thumb over his knuckles.

"I'm sorry, John, I'm so fucking sorry," Gale chokes and another sob wracks his body.

John shushes him, drags his chair closer until he can take both of Gale's hands in his.

"What for, Gale? You ain't do nothing wrong," John whispers and Gale shakes his head.

"Marge... she got sick, too damn sick and I couldn't get a good enough job to pay for her medicine, went to the funeral last night. I didn't know where to go, I'm sorry Bucky," Gale says and his voice hitches up as he tries to keep his sobs inside of him.

John tries not to curse under his breath. Poor, sweet Marge. Dead. The thing that Gale was looking forward to coming back to the most during the war, gone. And now he thinks he's a burden for being lost, for mourning her loss as any man would.

"Hey, hey now. None of that, you're okay. I don't mind, I'm so fucking sorry about Marge," He whispers but Gales still shaking his head.

"Her father came up to me after, told me he knew what I was, spit in my face and called me a queer, told me to leave Wyoming, didn't even want me at her funeral in the first place. I'm sorry, John, I'm sorry for ruining your life, I'm sorry," Gale sobs.

It wrenches something deep inside John's heart to hear the words. He and Gale were close, exceptionally close. And maybe he had kissed Gale one or twice during the war, brushed it off as a joke or for being too drunk to think straight, but it certainly wasn't a joke to John. His stomach roared at the thought of finally having Gale to himself, and he knew it was selfish.

"You didn't ruin my life, Gale. You made it so much better, just by existing there. You got me through that damn war and if that makes me a queer, so be it," John says and Gale looks up at him with red eyes.

John leans forward until he can awkwardly wrap his arms around Gale's shoulders, tucking Gale's face into his neck and allowing him to sob.

"I love you, Gale. I'm glad you decided to come here, it's gonna be alright," John whispers, and he can feel Gale's grip on his shirt get tighter.

Gale sobs again, scrambling his hands so he can touch every single part of John's body, seems like he's trying to make them one person.

"I-I love you, too, goddamnit I'm so sorry," Gale mutters, and John does nothing but hold him and shush him until his painful sobs become quiet sniffles.

head in my damn hands rn I make myself sad

[buccini555]

𝐇𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐬 - 𝐈𝐳𝐚𝐧𝐚 𝐊𝐮𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐚𝐰𝐚 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐊𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐜𝐡𝐨 𝐇𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐨

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝

≡ 𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚... After the party came to an end after finding out that your boyfriend was cheating on you with your best friend, you ended up spending the night in the care of your ex-boyfriend's best friend

⌕ I m a g i n e s !!

𖥻 𝐹𝑡. Kakucho Hitto and Izana Kurokawa

tw! abusive relationship, mention of aggression/injury, a bit smut, virginity loss, unprotected sex, strong words, threats, insecurities about relationships, sensitive content in general, be careful

"..." The silence of the gale blew throughout that beautiful garden, ending up being hidden by the remnants of loud music that could still be heard even from afar, Kakucho stood up and gently took your trembling and cold hand, the boy looked directly for you, not being able to help but notice your wound that was still exposed, without taking long, he took you out of that place, heading to the garage of the house and looking for the car in which they came to the same party ruined by Izana.

"I really need to get you home now, it's better that no one sees you in this state." He said calmly as he worriedly opened the car door and helped you get in, throughout the journey back to the house, you remained silent, remained lost in your deep thoughts and reflections, and so, it didn't take long to arrive at your house, when Kokonoi's car was parked in the garage, Kakucho kindly remained a true gentleman, again taking care in helping you out of the car and opening the door of his house so you could enter without making too much effort and ending up getting worse your injury in some way.

"You're adorable, Kakucho! Thank you so much for helping me, I-I'm still sorry for being so rude to you." Giving him a small smile, you invited him in, however, initially Kakucho seemed reluctant to actually approach you.

"...Are you sure you want me around? I don't mind leaving, just ask me." He questioned, looking away as he walked through the door.

You looked at him shyly, waiting for him to enter to lock the lock. "Again, if it's not too much to ask, please, I want you to stay."

"It's okay, since you want it that way, I feel better if I can keep taking care of you." Kakucho said right after, being careful, he took you to the sofa, making you sit down.

"Argh..." You sat up, taking your hands to your injured neck and making an expression of pain, after all, Izana didn't care about hurting you, at that moment, Kakucho immediately approached you, completely overcome with great concern. "That hurt... Damn, forgive me for leaving you alone with him, I wasn't even good enough to protect you."

"You warned me, you don't need to blame for a mistake that wasn't yours." You said, holding his face and stroking it, Kakucho looked at you again and you could see how much his eyes shone when he looked at you, at that same moment, that atmosphere returned between you who just looked at each other, you never you had seen Kakucho like that and at the same time that unknown feeling that arose left you completely confused, that same feeling warmed your heart like never before and that desire was definitely reciprocated.

"Okay, I'm going to get something to bandage this up before it ends up getting worse." When Kakucho realized how close you were, out of concern for his wound, he ended up breaking the "mood", walking away and going in search of some bandages.

He went to your bathroom and got some gauze and some painkillers, as soon as he returned to the room, he sat next to you in complete silence, just taking care of your injury, his hands were light despite being noticeably so strong, he seemed concentrated and distressed at the same time, as soon as he finished bandaging himself, Kakucho left all those first aid materials aside and surprised you with a hug.

"Now, I can hug you without being afraid of hurting you." Giving an awkward laugh, he whispered as he hugged you.

"Thank you for taking care of me, Kaku." In a few words, you thanked him by returning the hug.

"... I don't want to be just a bully, you understand that shit, don't you? This all happened really fast and I really don't want to end with this feeling I have for you." Decreasing the intensity but still remaining in the hug, Kakucho said in a tone of discouragement, he honestly didn't want you to just use him to forget Izana, even if it seemed wrong to him, Kakucho just wanted to feel truly loved by the person he loved so much. loved in secret to maintain their friendship.

You felt the discontent in the boy's words and it made your heart sink. "I would never use you, Kakucho, I just didn't know I could feel something for you, I'm sorry for having ended up with the wrong person, honestly, I couldn't imagine that the right person was so close..."

"I'm not the right person for you, nor Izana, I like you enough to think you deserve someone better than two delinquents." Pulling away again, he said seriously as he stared at her face. "Don't talk about yourself like that! I know you're not just any delinquent." Immediately, you responded without thinking much, however, keeping your words to him sincere as possible.

"...Actually, I think I'd better leave now, I'm sorry again for anything." Kakucho got up from where you were and shrugged, but you ended up getting up right away and holding him by the arm. "N-no need to leave..."

"And also, I believe it's best if we forget what happened between us." Kakucho spoke, you could hear in his tone how much he was fighting his own feelings.

"If you really love me, you won't leave me!" In an unexpected impulse, you can't just let him walk away without more, not even after finally managing to declare himself in the midst of an inappropriate situation.

"... I can't! Damn, I can't... I know it's repetitive, but, you really wouldn't understand." In a loud thought, he replied unwillingly.

"I want to try and if you walk out that door, you're the one who will be giving up how you feel about me." Again, silence took over the place, Kakucho turned to you and looked at you in silence.

"...If I betray Izana, I will be betraying my only true friendship." The taller one spoke almost in a whisper, not even being able to keep his eyes on you, he just fixed his eyes on a distant point. "And if I leave, I'll be burying the feelings I've been harboring for you since the first time I laid eyes on your face, even though it was wrong, I didn't mind kissing you at that damn moment." Looking back at you as if he was seeing beyond you, he said subtly while shaking his head in denial, Kakucho was putting pressure on himself to make a difficult choice and amidst so many wars in his mind, he felt like he was at peace. while still keeping you in front of his eyes.

As you listened carefully to each of those words, you understood how important Izana was to Kakucho, however, you did not remain unimportant, ending up being the owner of the most genuine feelings he could have, having no idea if that was true love or not, the doubt didn't make you feel less loved by Kakucho, despite feeling countless sensations, you remained silent, just looking at the taller one with your eyes that betrayed sea air.

"I don't want to give up on you, I can't give up on you..." Without hesitating to interrupt Kakucho, you approached again in an impulsive act of pure courage, he also didn't hesitate to get closer once again giving himself to a passionate kiss, this time, that same kiss went beyond all the ones you had already received, in turn, you ended up reciprocating that same feeling, giving yourself completely without caring about anything that had happened previously or anyone else, at that exact moment, the world around you seemed to have frozen for both of you, you held him by the back of the neck while he held you by the waist, making you lie down on the sofa in your living room, still being careful with your injuries, suddenly, all that intensity It turned into even more desire, making simple caresses send goosebumps all over her body and she didn't feel like putting an end to it all at any point.

"I-I don't want to cross the line with you." Breaking the kiss, Kakucho spoke while still keeping his hands on her body. "I also don't want it to seem like I'm taking advantage of your weakness..."

"Go on, I'm asking for it, Kakucho... I-I know you like taking orders." You said as you pulled him close again, he ended up just giving in to your request and kissing you again. "I'll give you what you want." Kakucho slid his hands down your legs, supporting them on his body, for a moment, he couldn't help but shyly admire the beautiful neckline of your red dress.

"...Honestly? There is no compliment I can use to describe how perfect you are." Extending the insistent kisses on your neck and chest, he couldn't help but praise you, Kakucho was certainly being true to every word he said, giving himself to you body and soul while you helped him unbutton the buttons on the dress shirt he wore, as soon as he set it aside, you realized how strong he was when you laid eyes on those defined abs. "Are you sure you want me?" He questioned, running his hand over his own muscles while you just nodded in affirmation, distracted by such beauty.

"Do you mind that I've never done this before?" Still worried and a little shy, the taller one couldn't help but question.

"...We're going to do this for the first time together, if you don't mind..." You looked away again and remained silent as you unzipped your own dress, remaining in just your underwear in front of him.

"I have to confess that I'm happy to you trust me enough for this, princess..." Understanding your "message" he immediately fell silent as he surrendered himself to your lips again, after, kissing your neck, he ended up not hesitating to leave some marks on your breasts when he unbuttoned your bra, Kakucho started to take everything more seriously when he kept you completely naked just for him, you believed that he would be careful and it really wasn't any different, despite that, Kakucho didn't stop "going deeper" into you when he felt that you you were already used to it, when your legs were shaking and you couldn't stand it for another second, suddenly, your phone started ringing non-stop, interrupting the act.

Kakucho stopped what he was doing, already having in mind that the one who was persistently calling his phone was Izana. "Stay calm." He said holding her face when he saw her with a scared expression as you also knew who it was on that call.

"I-Izana, it's Izana, turn off that phone, please Kakucho." With a shaky voice, you responded apprehensively as Kakucho took your phone and turned it off, but that wouldn't stop Izana, you realized that when you heard a knock on your door.

"Holy shit, this guy never gets tired of being a bastard!" The taller one said as he helped you get dressed and got dressed right after. "You don't need to be afraid of him, I won't let him get close to you."

"Come on up, I'll sort it out with him." Kakucho sent you up the stairs, he wouldn't allow Izana to even see you after all that.

"Don't open the door! Kakucho, please don't open it, please!" Holding onto his arm, out of fear, you begged him not to open that door while the knocking became increasingly louder.

Izana's insistence intensified even more as you stared at each other, making you both even more apprehensive about Izana's presence shouting for you outside the house. "Open the fucking door, [Name]! Am I going to have to break into your damn house?"

"Trust me, go lock yourself in your room and I'll sort it out."

"What will he think about seeing you here at this time? Kakucho, if he does something to you I won't forgive myself!"

"You need to trust me! Please, I know the friend I have, go upstairs, please."

You just did as Kakucho told you, heading upstairs and hiding in your room, you couldn't hold back the tears as you tried to hear what was happening downstairs.

"What the fuck? Kakucho? What the fuck are you doing at my girlfriend's house?" Izana exclaimed as soon as Kakucho opened the door, he really didn't expect his best friend to be there.

"Ex-girlfriend, you mean ex-girlfriend, do you realize the shit you did? Damn, Izana!"

"Fuck you, man, where's my fucking girlfriend? And who do you think you are to give me any orders?" Izana responded with an air of superiority and trying to get through the door, but he didn't expect that Kakucho would have the courage to stop him.

"Do you really think I'm going to let you near her again after you hit her? And you? Who the fuck do you think you are?"

"What the fuck kind of friend are you? Aren't you going to tell me you were fucking that stupid bitch?"

"If you call her a bitch again I'll show you what a fucking friend I am when I smash your face in."

"Oh yeah! So it's true? Do you want congratulations for taking her virginity before me? Or maybe you want a prize? Who would have thought that someone as pathetic as you would be able to fuck a girl."

"... You're fucking stupid, I don't know how I ever considered you my best friend, Izana, holy shit."

"Aren't you going to share it with me? I was the one who found it first, do you think you can come and steal what's mine?"

"... Get out now, it's better for both of us, you don't want me to take you out of here, do you?"

"You know what? At least I have her friend as comfort, stay there with my "Remains"." Izana shrugged and finally gave up on insisting on seeing you since he was drunk enough to forget you for that night.

Kakucho locked that damn door and assured him that he had really left, the boy couldn't hide how disappointed he was at having lost his childhood friend that night, despite that, he simply couldn't agree with those attitudes, at that moment, the only one The brunette's real concern was for you, as soon as he went up the stairs, he knocked on your bedroom door. "[Name]? Can you open the door for me, princess?" As soon as you heard him, he immediately went to unlock the door while bursting into tears.

"Please don't leave my side again, Kakucho." Hugging him, you said while resting your head on his chest.

"...I'll just get away from you when you want me to."

"Don't talk like that, I won't want you to leave my side."

"You know things that start very quickly end up ending very quickly."

"What do you mean? Kakucho?"

"Nothing... You better rest, it's almost dawn and you've already been through a lot."

"You don't have to hide things from me anymore, you know that."

"What happened between us, that's the problem, I mean... It's not a problem, but the way it happened, let's face it, it was shit, you were just betrayed and I'm afraid that you still don't trust me when I say that I'm not the kind of guy like Izana."

Not knowing what to say to that speech, you just remained silent while Kakucho seemed to think carefully before saying another word.

"The context in which I confessed my feelings, our approach, even our sex, I don't want it all to be in vain or something that lasted for just one night, it's you I want, I've always wanted." Almost like an outburst, he finally expressed himself.

"I also don't want this to be just a temporary thing, maybe, in fact, I'm sure we can make this work!" You responded in a calm tone despite feeling your heart beating faster.

"We're going to make this work." He responded right away with a smile that came naturally.

Returning the same smile, you hugged him even tighter. "Of course we will go..."

"Anyway, that's enough for today. You need rest to recover soon." After kissing you on the forehead, he took you to the bathroom and helped you take a shower, when he finished redoing your bandages and making sure you were calmer, Kakucho carried you on his lap to your bed and wrapped you in the covers.

"Rest, I'll be here when you wake up so you don't have to worry about anything." It was late, almost dawn, all those emotions left you exhausted, for that reason Kakucho kept you comfortable in his arms, stroking your hair subtly until you finally fell into a deep sleep, even though he was completely shaken and also tired. , he definitely didn't mind spending the rest of the night awake, watching you worriedly, if you felt bad at any point, he would definitely want to be there to keep you well, so Kakucho remained protecting you and ensuring that for a while moment, forget all that hell.

[rjhpandapaws]

Heroes that Live are Seldom Remembered

His first memory of Revali comes when the phantom of a king hands him a well worn paraglider. As he holds it and looks it over the scene around him changed. It's in a colder place and the hands holding out the paraglider go from fingered to feathered. Revali's expression is one of fold smugness. "You told me you wanted to know what it really feels like to fly. While no such feat is possible for a mere Hylian, gliding is a close second, and something I'm sure even you can handle." His words are harsh, as they always tend to be, but the kindness beneath them isn't lost on Link, it rarely is. He finds himself smiling as the scene fades around him. He is careful as he tucks the glider away. Faint though it may be a century later, Link can still feel the care Revali put into crafting this for him, and he has no intentions of letting it fall into disrepair.

He remembers more of Revali as he travels through Hyrule, and each memory he finds is more painful than the last. Early on in his journey it was a simple thing to do small feats of mental gymnastics and continue to believe they had been nothing more than close friends. But with each careful brush of ghostly feathers his denial crumbled away and was replaced with anger. Toward himself, toward the goddess, toward Ganon, and toward the blights that he had recently learned of. To everything that took away his future. They had plans, they had a future. They were going to live just outside of Rito Village so that Link could raise his horses and Revali could have the space that he so desperately craved. They would travel when the mood struck them, stay away for as long as they felt inclined. Link would retire from the nights once his service to the princess was up and they would live peacefully as former Champions going wherever the call of adventure lead them. They were going to grow old together. Until Revali grew too stiff to fly and Link had no hair left for feathers to be braided into. Instead Revali had died cold and alone thousands of miles away from Link, and Link had died in a lonely field in the arms of a princess who finally had the power to change destiny. Then he had woken up with nothing to his name except the slate and the feathers woven into his hair with the careful hand of someone who had known what they meant to him. He wore those same feathers around his neck now, tucked safely between his tunic and his chest to keep them from being destroyed.

Finally reaching Rito Village comes with another kind of pain that he wasn't ready for. The kind of pain that comes from the small intimate memories that come with spending so much of his time in one place. No matter where he looked there was always something to be remembered, there was no place safe from Revali's ghost. He was relatively sure the villagers thought him crazy when he stood on Revali's landing and let out a blood curdling scream of his own to rival that of Medoh's. Not to mention when he collapsed in tears immediately after, because not even screaming his loss and pain could make it go away. Taking back Medoh was bittersweet. Getting to hear Revali's voice outside of a memory for the first time since waking up, almost brought him to his knees again. He stayed standing because it was the only way to get his Revali back. What fuels his strength in the fight against Windblight is nothing more than anger. Every moment of pain he'd felt for his loss so far on his journey was poured into each blow against it. When it ended he felt blissfully numb up until he saw Ravali's ghost, then it was grief and pain all over again. The gift of his gale, something they had ridden so many times together was the piece that broke him in the end. What drove him to finally say something in response to Revali instead of just basking in his presence.

"This isn't fair..... I - I ..... Your gale should be yours, it shouldn't be a parting gift to me. Nor Mipha's healing, Daruk's protection, and whatever it is Urbosa will gift me in return for her freedom. None of this should have happened." His voice is ragged both from the weight of his emotions, and lack of use, "We had plans Revali. We had so many things we were going to do, sights to see.... When this ended there was so much we were going to do. And now it's just gone." The look he gets from Revali is a familiar one of exasperated fondness, and Link knows he is going to hate what Revali says next. "We both knew those plans were little more than fantasy Link. Something to make us feel like this fight was worth it. A reason to fight that might be bigger than our destiny to die." He sighs softly, "But we knew deep down it wouldn't happen. The heroes that live are seldom remembered. We are Champions, Legends in a sense, there was no life after for us, and I am sorry that after waking up you were lead to believe there was." Revali reaches for Link and neither one of them flinches when he doesn't make contact, "Just know that when this is over, I will be waiting for you like i always said I would."

The fight with Ganon is long and exhausting, and even before he lands the final blow, Link knows he won't be surviving it. He's too injured and has lost too much blood, but more than that, he doesn't want to. There is nothing left in this Hyrule for him. As Ganon dissolves into nothing, the weapon that had pierced through Link's chest does the same. He falls to the grass wet with blood, malice, and goddesses knows what else. Zelda's cries for him to "just hold on" fade into emptiness. He is content to bleed out in a field for the second time in his life.

When he becomes aware again Revali is looking down at him with a gentle smile, "You know she isn't going to forgive you for giving up for quite a while." It's said with almost a laugh, "But I'm sure she will come to understand how much you were missed." "I just wanted to be with you again." He presses his forehead to Revali's beak like old times and relishes in the contact, "I didn't want to keep you waiting another one hundred years."

Medoh is perched above Rito Village still glowing a serene blue. At night, it is said that if someone looked closely there are two spirits standing atop it's head looking out over Hyrule, one is a Rito and one is a Hylian. They're names have long been lost to time, but it is said that at one time they woke from the dead to save the world.

[writing-rat]

Hold On (I still Need You)

Pairings: Sam Carpenter and Tara Carpenter, Sam Carpenter and Gale Weathers, Sam Carpenter and Sidney Prescott

Content Warning: Attempted Suicide, Self Harm, Angst with a happy ending, Hanging, Soft Sam Carpenter

Summary: Tara feels depressed so she does something about it. Little does Tara know that Sam would walk in...

WC: 1558

Sam knew something was wrong immediately when she walked into the apartment she shared with Quinn and Tara. Quinn was away on a family trip with her dad and Tara was home. Except it was too quiet…

-

Sam was supposed to be away most of the day, leaving Tara to her own devices. There were promises of how Tara would be careful (little did Sam know what would happen), and to call her if something happened. 

It had been 4 hours after, 2 hours until Sam would come back. Tara had everything ready. She had the knife, the stool and the noose. Expertly tying it around her light, she ensured it wouldn’t fall. It took about an hour however to make sure but finally, she did it. She was on a time crunch now, however. Sam would be home in about an hour and Tara was starting to panic. She didn’t need Sam to see her trying, she’d rather not see her reaction.

She wanted to be with Amber again after all…

Breathing heavily, she grabbed the knife and looked at it, hesitating a little but she knew she had to. This was her only chance to do it. Eventually, she slit her wrists. They were deep. It was going to lead to blood loss, it was going as planned. She gripped the knife in her other hand, causing another cut that was just as deep. She finally stood on the stool, putting her head inside the hole. She could feel the blood dripping down her hands, even her fucked up hand. She smiled happily.

She was going to be free. ‘I’m free’ she thought as she kicked the stool away, closing her eyes in peace.

That was when the door opened, Tara opened her eyes again, wide-eyed. She heard Sam calling out but she was already unable to speak and she couldn’t get down. She was caught, and she was panicking, causing her to thrash quietly.

“Tara?” Sam called out, nervously grabbing her taser and knife, looking all around and being cautious. The first room she checked was Tara’s however the sight caused her to drop what she had. Tara was there, that was for sure. She was wide-eyed, staring at Sam, blood dripping down her arms. After a second or 2 Sam went into action. “Fuck fuck fuck,” she cursed as she was immediately getting her down, but she wouldn’t be able to stop the bleeding fully. It was too deep, she knew already. 

She took off her tank top anyway and put Tara’s wrists together, putting pressure on both with one hand, the phone shaking in her other hand as she was calling someone. “911, yes. My sister tried to kill herself, she’s bleeding badly, I got her down,” Sam panicked, Tara watching her. She looked pale, and there was nervousness in her eyes before she closed them. “No! Stay awake for me!” Sam begged, slapping her all over while screaming their address on the phone. She barely heard the operator say that there was help coming and to stay on the phone. Sam’s sobs continued throughout the phone call, time going slowly as the tank top became fully red. That’s when Sam grabbed the bedsheets, using them instead.

In about 5 minutes, paramedics were coming in, and Tara had a puddle of blood around her. “Samantha, your sister is in safe hands. Can you please move away?” one of them asked. Sam was reluctant to move but knew she had to. Tara was at risk now, the blood spreading into the carpet. 

“We’re gonna need a stretcher,” one demanded. That’s when one appeared, one that could be held as they would be running down the stairs after all. 

“We’re losing her,” another announced, stressed. Sam gasped, tears running down her face before she was taken out of the room by another paramedic. She would help Sam. 

“It’s ok, I’m safe. Breathe with me,” the woman said, looking at her and doing a breathing exercise. Soon enough Sam could breathe but she was still sobbing. “That’s good. Very good,” she spoke. She was about to say something when a male voice was heard.

“Clear!” the man spoke before electricity was heard. Immediately Sam went to see and the paramedic didn’t stop her, knowing it would be impossible. Tara was on the stretcher at least. 

They did it about 2 more times before they looked at each other. “There’s a pulse. We have to hurry to the hospital. Let’s go,” they spoke, soon rushing out while being careful with Tara, who had her eyes fully closed, and shallow breathing. 

“You can go into the ambulance as well, don’t worry,” the paramedic who helped her spoke. Sam nodded, rushing with them. She wouldn’t let her sister out of her sight anyway, especially when she was like this. She quickly sat down, holding her sister’s hand.

-

It had been hours since the incident and they were finally starting to stitch up the wounds. The doctors had wanted to make sure the bleeding had stopped before they started it and it finally did. Meanwhile, Sam was getting some of her blood taken for Tara as she had lost too much, so Sam offered her blood. She knew she was the same blood type as Tara and the medical sheets also proved it. She took a while to lay down after her blood was taken before she was pacing. 

This time she had people around her. Gale and Sidney. They arrived an hour previous due to Sam forgetting about their planned dinner that night. “She’s stable now, you came at a good time. If you hadn’t…” the doctor spoke. Sam’s heart dropped as she immediately walked into the room, thankful to see her baby sister was alright. That’s when she sat down, seeing how Gale and Sidney who were talked to the doctor. She held her sister’s hand gently wanting to know why she did it. For now, she decided to sleep, exhaustion seeping into her bones. She needed it also to not worry about her sister.

-

It took her about an hour before she woke up to a gentle nudge from her left side. Usually, she was aware of touch and was quick to reveal a knife, but not now. She just glanced over, her vision blurry. She just saw a red outfit. “Hey honey, me and Sid got you some food,” Gale spoke quietly, handing it over. It was a hand sandwich with a protein drink next to it. Sam nodded. “Thanks, mom,” she spoke quietly, starting to eat, staring at Tara. “They said she was on painkillers so she might be sleeping more, she is stable now though and she hasn’t taken pills,” Sidney explained, who was on Sam’s right side. Gale nodded to agree. Sam nodded, still feeling bad. She was meant to love and care for her sister after all and she hadn’t been able to today.

Soon enough Tara was waking up. She let out a groan, covering her eyes before she looked around blearily. “Sam? Gale? Sidney?” she asked, her voice croaky. Sam was quick to grab the water and put it to Tara’s lips. “Yes. It’s us, baby, how are you?” Sam asked, making sure Tara drank some water. 

“I feel like hell… I didn’t die did I?” Tara asked. Sam shook her head. “Thankfully not,” Gale responded. 

“Close though but now you will be constantly checked in on,” Sidney added. Tara groaned but stopped when she saw Sam’s broken look. That’s when Sam let out tears and hugged her sister. 

“Please talk to me when you feel like this… please! I want to know what’s going on and if I can help. Just please…” she practically begged out. Tara looked down, feeling guilty before she stared at Gale and Sidney. “Can you leave for a moment?” she asked weakly. Gale and Sidney looked at each other before they were nodding and left. That’s when Tara sighed once they were out the door. “I just… I felt weak after all the attacks. I thought you would be better off without me. I mean… you take care of me and work for me… I thought you would be better off and you could have more free time. I also miss Amber. She was my first lover and she’s left a huge hole in my heart. I just wish she was here,” Tara started, crying softly and starting to sob. That’s when Sam hugged her. 

“I always care for you, I wouldn’t be able to live without you. And we can talk about Amber if you want, hell we can go to a therapist. I can join you. I just want you to be ok! Please tell me, please,” she cried out as well. Tara nodded.

“I will, I promise Sam. I will. I will do anything to get better. Therapy, psych ward, whatever,” she promised, still crying. Sam knew it would take a long time to heal but this was a start.

She looked at Tara and hugged her. “I love you,” she spoke gently. 

“I love you too,” Tara responded, hugging her back as tight as she could, wincing in pain. She knew she would get better with her sister and her adopted moms by her side. She had to… for them.

[tallymonster]

Memories of Us chapter 3 || Masterlist

Tags same as last time, based on @cheesy-cryptid 's piece of amazing fan art .

Summary: Octavia wanders around the museum at night, her mind wanders in the quiet of the halls.

As always thank you to my darling friend and beta reader @micropoe10 ❤️

It's a shorter one this time, but it's going to start getting long after this so make yourselves comfortable 😌

@satanicspinosaurus 💙

Chapter 3: I lost my place

Another couple of weeks pass, Octavia and Gale are close to finishing the new exhibit: Shar's Lost Temple: The Holy Relics of Our Lady of Loss. They were set to open in a couple of days, but she stayed behind one more night to give Gale a much deserved break. One more stay won't be too bad. After a few all-nighters in the office cataloging, she became used to the eerie silence that fell on the museum at night. She loved walking along the solitary corridors, taking in the history in these walls. 

Eventually she wandered over to the Szarr gallery, being drawn to the unknown man again. She stares at the face, the same feeling running down her neck, her spine...She shakes it off and rubs her eyes. Trailing her eyes back up to the painting, she moves them up the features of the subject.

As a half elf herself, she knew most of the features were common; such as the pale skin, the pointed ears, even the white hair, but those eyes were so intense she had never seen a color so deep. Even through the canvas and oil, she felt them following her. 

As she admires the brush strokes, the atmosphere feels as if it's weighing down on her, it must be the stress and anticipation of the opening. She turns to sit on the bench in the gallery, as she does, she sees a figure from the corner of her eye.

Octavia gasps, recoiling in terror, "OH GODS WHAT-" "I'm sorry, please don't be scared!" Astarion standing in front of her. "Mr. Ancunin, what are you doing here?? I thought I was alone. I just wanted to clear my mind while I finish some work." Octavia trails off. She fixes her cardigan, and glances up at him for a second, immediately looking back down due to her embarrassment. She notices that he's wearing those same dark glasses he wore at the restaurant. 

"I was walking through the new exhibit. I wanted to see what my two favorite assistants had gotten up to. I must say, it's incredibly impressive how hard you both work." He sits on the bench in front of them, motions for Octavia to join him. "I was on my way out when I saw you staring at our man of mystery. I must say, it seems you've taken a liking to him with all that staring you were doing. I like how you described him that night." 

He places his hands on the bench, leaning back he crosses his legs and lets out a sigh. "It was nice. Not many patrons to our establishment look past the opulence and silly outfits to really appreciate the people who were there." He seemed almost nostalgic for a second.

They linger in the silence for a minute, "Anyway, I won't keep you, can't have that pretty brain of yours working too hard, can't we?" He flashes a sly grin and stands, he looks up at the frame on the wall and motions as if blowing a kiss up at it. "Good night, sweet Octavia, try to go home at some point tonight. Okay?" 

"Sure...Good night, sir." she turns to walk away. "You can call me by my name you know, no need to be so professional, it's just the two of us." The way his voice spills the words out sounds kind of old fashioned, like out of some of those vintage romance novels Octavia's mom had. She swallows the flutter her heart does "Okay, good night.. Astarion. See you tomorrow." "Good night, darling." 

[rose-pearls]

Watching you go - Part 7

Previous part - Next Part

The beeping of a machine wakes you up, as your eyes start to flutter open you manage to see a door. The rest of the room is still blurry, but you can’t help but feel scared, not knowing where you are. The machine starts making more sounds as you try to get up, but you aren’t able to.

“Hey, hey lie down.”, someone tells you and you just have time to see Katniss Everdeen’s mother before you get pushed back into the bed.

“You are safe.”, she tells you after a moment, but you still feel scared, an unknown environment around you.

“Where am I?”, you ask her, your voice just barely there and she immediately brings a glass of water to your mouth, helping you drink it before answering you.

“District thirteen. You were saved from the arena.”, right, you had been in the 75th hunger games and now you were apparently in a district that had been bombarded.

“Where is Peeta?”, she looks at you sadly, pity in her eyes and you try to ask her again but a lump in your throat stops you for a moment.

“Where?”, you ask her again, the words as clear as day.

--

Haymitch doesn’t know what he is doing, the boy had sacrificed himself because he wanted to protect her and apparently him. But he knew deep down that the girl would have rather had Peeta by her side then her estranged father.

The hovercraft had been filled with a long silence, Peeta’s absence had caused that, and they were all hoping they would be able to save the two people in there. In the end they did, Gale was the most aware of the two and the girl had been in shock from her last encounter with the district two boy.

She had practically fell to the ground, but Haymitch had gotten her just in time before she fell on her head and whispered softly that she was safe before giving her some morphling.

Since then, they had been in district thirteen, waiting for her to heal from her wounds and to find the right moment to save Peeta. Katniss had been the face of the rebellion and as much as Haymitch tried to help her, he had been stuck worrying about his daughter and Peeta. If all of that wasn’t enough there was the situation between Johanna and Finnick that didn’t help, Johanna seemed to avoid the man while he was trying to follow her like a lost puppy or ignoring her.

They were at dinner that night, trying to keep a conversation going because otherwise they would all get lost in old memories that they didn’t want to talk about when the news came.

“Abernathy.”, he turned around to see soldier looking at them with uninterest in his eyes before turning back towards Haymitch.

“She is awake.”, he didn’t need to be told twice, so he quickly got up and left the mess hall with Finnick and Johanna following him, Katniss and Gale not far behind.

The hospital med bay had been chaotic when they arrived in district thirteen but now it seemed far too calm. May Everdeen comes out of a room and looks at them with a sad gaze, the girl knew.

“I just told her, she is processing the news.”, she tells them quietly and Haymitch feels sick at the thought. 

“Well, someone needs to get in there and talk to her or are we going to stay here all day?”, Johanna says suddenly and Haymitch has never felt more grateful for her bluntness. 

“I’ll go, then Gale?”, the man in question agrees and Haymitch takes a deep breath before opening the door.

She looks pale, her eyes looking haunted as she stares at the wall. The thin hospital gown shows the weight she has lost in the arena and Haymitch can only hope she will gain it back.

“I’m not angry at you, if that is what you are wondering.”, she says quietly, her voice filled with sadness, and he closes his eyes for a moment.

“I didn’t know he was going to sacrifice himself. We were at the end of the tunnel and peacekeepers arrived and before I knew it, he left my side.”, he know he is rambling, but for the first time in the 25 years after his games he is at loss of words. A tear falls down her cheek and Haymitch feels the guilt coming back, telling him that he should have been the one taken away.

“You couldn’t have done anything, Peeta has always been determined. Once he sets his mind on something he does it. This time it was saving you.”, her voice is breaking over the words and Haymitch takes a step closer to her.

“It should have been me.”, he says after a moment, and she scoffs.

“It shouldn’t have been anyone. Not you, not him, no one.”, her voice is cold, but there isn’t a doubt in her voice as she tells him that.

“He made his choice and even though it hurts like hell we have to live with it.”, she says, looking like she is trying to convince herself through the words.

“I just don’t know how I’m going to be able to.”, she whispers before a sob leaves her lips and tears fall down her cheeks. He is quick to be by her side and holding her in his arms, trying to reassure her but her sobs grow louder, holding onto him like he is her lifeline.

--

The ruins that are left are small, covered in plants and other things but you enjoy the sight of it. The fresh air brings some peace as you walk through the woods, Johanna is by your side and the rest is walking a bit further away, leaving the two of you to talk.

“So, how does it feel to be out of the hell hole?”, she asks, and you can’t help but chuckle at her words.

“The arena or district thirteen?”, Johanna smiles at your answer and looks at you for a moment.

“Both.”, the answer leaves you thinking, you hadn’t really had the time to think about the arena, the only time you really came face to face with it was in your nightmares.

“The arena feels like a nightmare, not like I was actually in there.”, Johanna hums at your answer and you let out a sigh before looking around.

“And district thirteen is still a mystery, although far too many rules for my taste.”, she snorts at your answer, and you can’t help but laugh at her reaction.

“The only thing they have are rules, I mean giving you a certain number of minutes to pee is really too far.”, the two of you laugh at the ridiculous rules that district thirteen had somehow created before a silence takes over.

“How are things with Finnick?”, you can’t help but ask, and Johanna immediately tenses at the name before letting out a sigh.

“There isn’t really anything happening. He told me that he couldn’t be with me, and I couldn’t keep putting myself on the line. I thought that taking some time away from each other would make him realize that he has feelings for me, but it seems to make him happy to be apart.”, she looks defeated, like nothing good will happen and you can’t help but feel bad for her.

“He needs time to heal from Annie, but it wasn’t fair to you to keep you on the side.”, Johanna snorts at the words and she shakes her head silently.

“I just want him to react, to do something to show me that he cares.”, she tells you and you can’t help but understand, the feeling of hopelessness. 

“Why don’t you show him that he could lose you?”, Johanna looks at you slightly confused before you explain her a bit further.

“When Peeta came back from the games, he was so focused on protecting me that he would forget I was actually there. It wasn’t until Finnick started to flirt with me and realizing that I was going into an arena that Peeta realized he could lose me.”, a flash of understanding appears in her eyes and the two of you stop walking for a moment.

“I don’t say this often, but you are smart. I just need to find someone to flirt with, make him a bit scared that I could be moving on and then he will be much more alert.”, you smile at her smirk before looking at her slightly worried.

“Don’t push it too far though, he cares for you and is just scared.”, you tell her softly and her eyes soften a bit at the words.

“I know, it will just be to shake him up a bit.”, she promises you before turning back towards the rest of the group that had stopped a bit further away.

“How are you holding up?”, she asks hesitantly.

“I’ve been better, still miss him. Sometimes I want to see him just so I could slap him for what he did and every time I just want to take him into my arms and never let go.”, you tell her after a moment of silence, looking at the sky while walking.

“To be honest I would kill him in your place.”, she tells you and you can’t help but laugh at her words, feeling a bit lighter at her words and she looks at you with a mischievous grin.

“Thank you, Jo.”, she looks slightly surprised, but a soft smile appears at your words.

“Anytime.”, the rest of the group is already sat down as you approach, and you join them, listening to the conversation around you.

--

“Peeta is alive.”, are the first words you hear as you come back from outside, Coin had asked for all of you to come by her office after that.

“What do you mean?”, Haymitch asks, and you can only nod, feeling like the world has crumbled form under your feet. 

“Snow did some propaganda and he appeared in it.”, she tells you calmly and you manage to take hold of a chair before practically falling on it.

“We need to get him out of there.”, you manage to say but Coin quickly starts saying the reasons why they wouldn’t be able to do such things.

Haymitch and the rest are quick to answer, telling her all the reasons why they should save him, but you aren’t able to talk.

He’s alive. Peeta, your Peeta. He’s alive and he is being held by the Capitol.

“I am not risking the lives of my men and women for one victor.”, she says harshly, and the words make you look up.

“What if we go?”, everyone looks at you surprised but you just look at Coin.

“Send us, the victors and tributes and that way you don’t need to send your army. Plus, it will be a nice little propaganda, right Plutarch?”, the man starts saying all the reasons why it would be a great move, but you don’t listen, only looking at Coin.

“Fine, I will let some of the victors go. But you are staying here, you are too close to the prisoner to think clearly there.”, her words are final, and you don’t try to argue with her, too scared that you would run out of luck.

“We need a distraction while we go in there.”, Gale says and the rest of the group nods in answer.

“I can provide it.”, Finnick says, and you all turn to look at him, slightly surprised.

“I know a lot of secrets and it’s about time everyone knows what Snow did with the victors.”, there is uncertainty in his eyes, but he looks determined.

“Good, Beetee and Wiress will make sure there is time for you to talk and that way the others can get the boy out.”, Haymitch says, and the rest of the night is spent planning every single detail to the mission.

“Get a good night of sleep, we are striking tomorrow.”, Coin says before dismissing all of you.

The main group leaves towards their quarters but you don’t want to go back there just yet, so you enter the mess hall, for once calm.

“We will save him.”, you hear Haymitch say, and you turn to look at him with a soft smile.

“I hope so.”, you tell him, unable to feel completely at ease with everything that will happen.

“It will be alright, you won’t have to learn to live without him anymore.”, he whispers after a moment, and you can’t help but take a deep breath at his words.

“I think I was starting to learn, but I’m glad I don’t have to anymore.”, you whisper and Haymitch nods slowly, a look of understanding in his eyes.

“Trust the process sweetheart.”, he tells you and the only thing you are able to do is stay right there. 

You don’t get a wink of sleep, waiting for the clock to strike the time the team has to leave and after that all hope of sleep is gone. The only thing you can do is hope that Peeta will be saved and that no one will die.

Thank you for all the comments and appreciation!! I'm sorry this took so long but I was watching Queen Charlotte and I am obsessed with Brimsley and Reynolds, couldn't get them out of my head!

Taglist: @wannapizzamymindposts, @experiencebeinanamericanwh0re, @capswife, @star-of-velaris, @simpinformunson, @nobody7102, @r1dd1kulus, @primscat, @fishfetus, @jellybear455, @ghostieraccoons, @inky-sun

[wheretheharekissesthefox]

Mirror, Mirror

Astarion's a vampire spawn and hasn't seen his reflection in two hundred years. And suddenly, he's facing a doppelgänger – and is stunned.

Trigger warning: slight angst, the feels, fluff, canon-typical violence, character study, emotional rollercoaster, talking it out, no sex

I just wanted to write something sweet and wholesome, and finally address the missed opportunities in the game where Spawn!Astarion could comment on his look, or something could be done to show him how he looks like (e.g. the painter at Waukeen's Rest, the doppelgänger in Shar's Gauntlet, the marble statue that can be bought at the circus, missed opportunity to give a Bard-Tav the option to draw Astarion, or for Sorcerer/Wizard-Tav & Gale to cast mirror image for him, make Orin turn into him while he's there, for e.g. before fighting her in the Bhaal temple, and then he could comment on it after defeating her, etc.). C'mon, Larian! You're so detailed otherwise!

Also, it's my birthday month, so I decided to spoil you all with a couple more fics than usual. Enjoy :)

The air in the Gauntlet of Shar was cold and heavy, smelling nauseatingly strongly of frankincense. Astarion couldn't help but wrinkle his nose, willing himself consciously to stop breathing. Nevertheless, the smell of Shadowheart's blood wafted over to him as she let it drip into the offering bowl for her goddess.

Shar... Astarion snorted. He didn't understand the cleric's blind devotion to the Lady of Loss. No deity cares about lowly creatures like dwarves, elves, halflings, humans, and tieflings. All they do, is demand loyalty and sacrifices, but show neither help nor mercy in return.

Irritated, Astarion glared at Shadowheart again and then at Gale. The cleric with amnesia and the wizard with a magical time bomb stuck in his chest. Great. Just great. Where were their gods now?

The vampire spawn sneered at his own thought, instinctively baring his sharp fangs at imaginary enemies. Tav shot him a questioning look. He just shrugged with a blasé attitude. Still, Astarion followed her, Shadowheart, and Gale into the room to face the last of Shar's trials with them. As soon as they'd entered, iridescent clouds appeared in front of them and started taking shapes.

"Doppelgänger!" Tav shouted, raising her shortsword against her double.

Immediately, a fight broke out. The bard spewed vicious insults and attacked with her blade, while the wizard cast fireballs and magic missiles, and the cleric swung her mace. The vampire spawn, however, was frozen in place, staring at the pale elf in front of him.

That's me, he realised, almost shocked, as he kept staring in disbelief.

The man who faced him was lithe and slender, holding himself in an elegant but slightly haughty way, even in his battle stance. There was a mocking sneer on his oval face, pearly white fangs glinting in the sickening purple light. The ruby red eyes flashed with hatred and anger. The white curls were perfectly styled and beautifully settled around his face and pointy ears.

Scary, Astarion thought. Uninviting. But at the same time... tempting. Beautiful. Compelling. Irresistible.

He frowned. Did he really look like this? Were his smile lines really that prominent? Was he truly –

The vampire spawn's whirling thoughts came to an abrupt stop when his doppelgänger leapt forwards and buried the dagger in his chest. Astarion doubled over, gasping in pain and surprise, as he kept staring at his mirror image.

It had been two hundred years since he'd last seen himself. It had been so long, he'd forgotten how his own face looked like. He'd been longing for this moment.

"Astarion!" Tav cried from somewhere. He had no idea where she was, too disoriented by the pain and too distracted by his own image.

His doppelgänger smirked at him, twirling the dagger between the slender fingers. Show-off.

Gale appeared behind that thing that wore Astarion's face and hit it with a Shocking Grasp. The vampire spawn saw his own pretty face twist into a grimace before it dropped to its knees. Gale attempted another spell, taking a breath to cast it, when, suddenly, he gasped instead and almost keeled over.

"Gods!" he groaned as he pressed a hand to his chest. Bright purple light flashed between his fingers and Gale yelled, pained. Shar's dark chuckle echoed across the room, reminding them all that they're only allowed to attack their own doppelgänger and not those of others. And now, the wizard paid the price for his kind-heartedness. Astarion felt a bit bad for him.

The incident had shaken him out of his frozen position though, allowing the vampire spawn to smoothly slit his double's throat. The thing wearing his face disappeared and Astarion was almost sad about it. The sharp pain in his chest reminded him of the injury and he winced. Nevertheless, he turned to check on Gale. Tav kneeled next to the wizard, her hand pressed onto his chest. She was pacifying the orb with a magical artefact. Gale was breathing heavily, with a scrunched up face, clearly in pain and trying to regain mental calmness to keep that damn orb from erupting. Although it wasn't directed at him, Tav's gentle humming had a soothing effect on Astarion. The latter sighed and lifted his palm from the wound on his chest. Thanks to his vampiric traits, it had already started to heal. Astarion was still grateful that Shadowheart blessed him with a healing spell.

As they left the hall – Tav supporting Gale who's legs were still shaky – the vampire spawn said: "Thank you, Gale. For helping me. It was very... kind."

The addressed gave him a tired smile.

"You're welcome, Astarion. That's what companions are for."

"Right," the vampire spawn muttered. "Companions."

The word 'friends' hung in the air unspoken.

The group made their way back to camp. Nobody mentioned Astarion's unprofessional slip-up. They all knew why it had happened.

The vampire spawn spent the entire night trying to remember every single, little detail of that creature's – his – face. The memory was already slipping again and Astarion mourned the loss of it for the second time in his life.

It had been almost seven years since then, and much had changed.

The Shadow-Curse was lifted, Cazador was dead, and Astarion lived in Waterdeep with his wife – Tav – and his husband – Gale – and their dear friend Shadowheart – who's married to Tav –, working as a tailor.

Astarion was still a vampire spawn, but thanks to Tav's generous gift, a Sun-Walker ring, he wasn't restricted in his activities. The only thing was... He still had no reflection.

Sometimes, he longed to see himself in a mirror, longed for a bit of vanity bestowed by a mirror. But Astarion could manage. After more than two hundred years, he was a pro in styling himself blindly and without any help. He knew he was perfect – and eternally beautiful. Still... Some days, it just hit him and he felt melancholic. Today was one of those days.

Astarion sighed again as he stared into the mirror next to his work desk. No reflection. But the baby blue dress in his lap looked gorgeous, of course. The vampire spawn turned towards the approaching footsteps and shortly after, Gale appeared at the stairhead.

"Hello, darling." Astarion couldn't prevent the smile from spreading across his face. "Need something?"

The addressed chuckled, replying: "Shouldn't that be my line? I simply felt the need to check on you and to make sure you're alright. It's been hours since I've last seen you."

Astarion laughed and cooed teasingly. He adored this ridiculous, nerdy, infuriating wizard.

"Look at you! As soon as I'm busy for a few hours, you start to worry, but woe betide me for the same behaviour when it comes to you. Do you see the irony, darling?"

"Hm. Yes." Gale frowned. "I don't like it."

Astarion snickered gleefully and placed the dress he'd been working on on the table. He sauntered over to his husband now, hips swaying and predatory smile in place. He leaned in to steal a passionate kiss. Gale was more than willing to provide, sighing happily and running his fingers through the vampire spawn's hair. But when they parted, he frowned again.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Don't worry, darling."

"Your face tells a different story."

Astarion gasped in mock-offence.

"Don't you dare! My face is perfect!"

"Naturally, but you –"

"What's wrong with my face?!"

"Well, firstly, you –"

"No, don't tell me!" Astarion waved about with his hand hastily. "Just tell me I'm beautiful."

The wizard sighed deeply, but he complied.

"It's a good face. You're beautiful, Astarion. But you look sad. I'm not as well-versed at reading your body language as Tav, and without the mental tadpole-link connection or a 'Detect Thoughts' spell I'm hamstrung. I don’t know what’s wrong, and if you don't tell me, I can't help you and I don't know what to do." Gale looked at his lover beseechingly. "Please, Astarion, tell me what's on your mind and how I can help you."

The addressed stayed quiet for a while, then, he sighed.

"It's nothing really. It's... It's stupid."

"It can't be 'nothing' if it's on your mind for so long," Gale replied, ever helpful. It made Astarion smile and gave him the courage to finally tell the truth.

"I want to see my face. I miss my reflection."

"Oh." Gale blinked at him. "Why didn't you just say so? I can cast a mirror image for you immediately."

He raised his arms, the magic words already forming on his tongue.

"No!"

Astarion slapped a hand over the wizard's mouth and grabbed his arm with the other.

"I'm – I'm not ready yet. I – I'm scared" he admitted, ashamed.

Gale gently removed his husband's hand from his mouth and kissed his knuckles before letting go of it and asking: "Why are you scared?"

"What if –" Astarion huffed, irritated at himself. "What if I don't like what I see? What if the man in the mirror's nothing like I remember him? I'm undead for over two hundred years and I've changed. Not only to the better, I must admit. There's almost nothing left of Astarion Ancunin, Baldurian magistrate, and heir of the Ancunin family. I'm... different now."

He stared at the floor with tears of anger in the corners of his eyes.

"Astarion." Gale stroke a thumb across the elf's cheek. "My dear." The wizard smiled. "You're my husband and I dare to argue that I know you rather well. You're wonderful, Astarion. A good person with a kind heart –" The vampire spawn made a face at that and Gale chuckled before he continued. "– a gracious lover, an excellent husband, an elegant elf, and... a beautifully scary vampire."

"I'm a spawn," countered Astarion on autopilot and Gale chuckled again.

"Apologies, my dear. You're a beautifully scary vampire spawn. And I love you oh so much."

Astarion swallowed the sudden lump in his throat and blinked away the tears that threatened to spill over.

"I love you too," he croaked out.

The wizard brushed a white curl behind the elf's ear before kissing his forehead. The latter closed his eyes. He was still reeling from the fact that his spouses were so gentle with him. He'd been deprived from tenderness for so long that it had started to scare him. He's gotten better about that though.

Astarion opened his eyes, took a deep breath, and said: "I'm ready. Show me."

Gale gave him a nod and cast a mirror image. The vampire spawn gasped and stared. And stared and stared. So, that was him. Astarion. The pale elf. The free vampire spawn. Husband of Gale Dekarios of Waterdeep and Tav Sionnach. Fascinating.

Astarion circled around the image, taking everything in. It felt odd. Wrong somehow. He wrinkled his nose.

"Hm."

"What is it?"

"Oh, I don't know. It feels much less exciting than back at Shar's temple when we'd fought our doppelgänger. It's less of a shock too. And somehow –" Astarion turned around to look at Gale "– somehow, I don't feel the need to see myself anymore."

"Oh?" Gale looked surprised. "But I thought –"

"Yes, darling, me too. But it seems like it doesn't make me happier to be able to look at my face. After all –" The vampire spawn grinned, flashing all his teeth. " – I know I'm beautiful."

The wizard laughed, loud and genuine, and Astarion joined him. Gale's concentration waned and the mirror image disappeared. The vampire spawn wrapped his arms around his husband's neck and smiled.

"Thank you, my love. For indulging me."

"Always," answered the wizard truthfully.

Their kiss was sweet and slow. Something to savour and to remember. When they're resting their foreheads together, Astarion whispered: "Just be my mirror for me, will you?"

Smiling, Gale hummed.

"I will."

[alicelioncourt]

Dreams (and a little x-over to tickle your nostalgia, sailor moon theme hehe)

The way to the Moonrise Towers was exhausting. The only thing that saved her was the atmosphere in this motley company: the scraping of a sword being sharpened, the clinking of a spoon on the sides of a cauldron while Gale was preparing their dinner, the barking of the best boy in the entire camp.

Shadowheart agreed to look at the stars with Gale in a peaceful setting a little away from the others when their dinner by the fire was finished. The stars looked so beautiful, but the cleric felt that Gale's gaze was riveted far from them, but she did not comment on it.

Opening her eyes, Shadowheart saw incomprehensible ruins around her, and somewhere in the distance, in the sky, a small blue ball; it was not too big and not too small. For some reason, by inertia, she wanted to take it in her palms as something fragile. The girl looked around and decided to go a little further to figure out where she was. Judging by the giant blocks of light stone, the destruction affected some palace or temple. Some columns still remained standing, but overall the picture was depressing.

“Silver Millennium. Hmm…” she finally read on one of the destroyed tablets.

It meant nothing to her, but, frankly, the name of the kingdom or whatever it was, sounded quite beautiful.

Holding the hem of her snow-white dress, the cleric walked further and further along the lunar surface.

“Gale?” she called him. “Gale, have you overdone it with magic again? I hope you didn’t decide to blow yourself up, and this is not some consequence of your decision.”

There was no answer, however. This was annoying. Shadowheart instinctively wanted to touch her braid to feel the reality of what was happening and to distract herself, but she did not feel it.

“Um… what?” She nevertheless touched her hair and found two small tufts that looked more like small steamed buns.

She didn’t have a chance to look in the mirror to assess such an appearance; Shadowheart could only mentally estimate what it looked like.

“Why am I wearing a dress? I was wearing different clothes, right?” it gradually began to dawn on her.

Shadowheart woke up from a sharp pain in her arm. For some reason, the Lady of Loss didn’t like something again. The cleric preferred to immediately pray to the goddess Shar and offer her praises in order to return to the righteous path of their important mission.

“This is all the work of the parasite,” was all she thought. To come to her senses a little, Shadowheart decided to take a short walk around the camp, and only then return to rest. Tomorrow they had a dangerous road ahead. They were almost there.

“Shadowheart? Why aren’t you sleeping?” Gale asked her. He was just finishing washing the dishes. They crossed roads by the river, where they stopped to wait out the night.

"I had a strange dream, that's all. I wanted to take a walk. I'm already going back to sleep."

"Oh, well. I won't distract you. I'll go to bed soon myself."

"Of course. Thanks again for dinner, it was delicious. And for the stars. We'll definitely do it again" Shadowheart promised him, giving him a little hope. It all turned out to be just a stupid dream. No one blew anyone up and their journey continues.

Already in the morning, when Shadowheart decided to braid her disheveled braid, purely out of curiosity, she tried to make herself a semblance of the hairstyle from her dream. First, two ponytails on the sides, and then wrap the hair around them and… This would be more suitable for a child, not for an adult woman. The face is not the right pretty proportions for such a thing.

"What kind of buns are these, darling?" Astarion involuntarily looked at her, simply because he was getting bored hanging around doing nothing while everyone was getting ready. "You're a bun-head now".

"And where to laugh?" Shadowheart snapped at him, measuring him with a skeptical look. She would have appreciated the joke a little more if it hadn't sounded so poisonous. The cleric simply stuck her tongue out at him, which completely stunned Astarion with such unusual behavior for her. "Do you want Gale to tell you why these aren't buns? He'll give you a whole lecture. I can call him".

Mumbling something dissatisfied, the pale elf still left her. It seemed he condemned her sense of humor. But his dissatisfied face with indignation in the morning pleased her very much.

Shadowheart looked at herself in the mirror again.

"Perhaps, let it remain as it was. Although… Sometimes I can tie my hair up so it doesn't get in the way. Before bed".

Perhaps she would return in her dreams to this Silver Millennium to find out what had happened and why there were ruins there. What if this was some kind of sign from the goddess Shar herself? What if the ruins on the moon were the fate that awaited Selune and her followers?

It was so inspirational.

___

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[motivated-wolf-writing]

Xiao stared at the words on the piece of paper in his hand. It was a simple poem, only a few stanzas long, and handwritten with shaking hands as though the owner was nervous as they wrote the words down. Xiao had read the poem, over and over, until the words themselves were engraved into his mind.

“A poem for you,” Aether said before pressing a slip of paper into the yaksha’s hands and leaping off to glide down to join in the festivities below. Xiao had no time to stop him, only reaching out with his hands and with words stuck at the back of his throat. What did he want to say back then? ‘Sorry, I cannot accept’? Or ‘thank you for the gift’? He had forgotten the moment his eyes fell upon the piece of paper, upon the words engraved in ink on the thin sheet.

Xiao gazed up at the orange-painted sky. It had been noon when Aether dropped by and now the sun was setting, the stars would soon take its place in the sky. Where had the time gone when he was reading the poem over and over?

A sudden gust of wind yanked the paper out of his hand and took it away into the sky. Xiao watched as the white reflecting the setting orange fluttered in the air, out of his immediate reach. It danced with the wind, playful, taunting, and Xiao snatched the paper out of nature's hands when he leaped into the sky. The wind teased him as the gust pushed him when he landed back on the rooftop with the slip of paper in his hand. His grip was tight and no gale would pull it out of his grasp again.

“Xiao!”

The yaksha looked down at the call of his name, unsurprised to find Aether grinning at him from the balcony. He leaped off from the rooftop, landing on his feet in front of the Traveller who ran over and gave him a quick peck on the cheek.

“Aether,” Xiao greeted with a soft smile on his face after Aether pulled away.

“I saw you jumping up and grabbing something.”

“Ah… Your poem. It was caught by the wind.”

“Oh? Maybe it wanted to have a look too.”

Xiao hummed. Not an agreement but not a disagreement either.

“Do you like the poem? What do you think of it?” Aether asked and Xiao was at a loss for an answer.

“I… like the poem but I am… unfamiliar with poetry.”

“That’s fine. I’m not that good with poetry either, I just wanted to write them,” Aether said before strolling over to the edge of the balcony to lean forward against the railings. “One for my family, one for my friends, and one for my lover.”

“What?”

Aether turned around to face Xiao with a sad smile on his face. “One for my family, for my sister who I want to reunite with one day,” he explained. “One for my friends, for all the people I met on my journey. And one for my lover, you whom I love more than everything else.”

“Oh.”

Aether walked over and wrapped his hands around Xiao and Xiao closed his eyes, allowing himself to feel the familiar warmth he loved so much.

“I will write more for you even if you do not understand them. One for my family, one for my friends, and one for my lover. Three poems and only one who can read it.”

“Then I will keep reading them, all of your poems, even if I do not understand. And one day, when I finally do, I will write one for my family, one for my friends, and one for my lover.”

Aether pulled away, just far enough so he could lean in to kiss Xiao on the lips. The slip of paper in Xiao’s hand fluttered down to the floor at the yaksha’s loose grip before it was taken away by a playful gust of wind. Yet, Xiao did not mind because he had already committed those words into his memory.

“I look forward to reading it one day,” Aether said once they broke the kiss.

[chaoticbard]

"Every piece of information that I write down will end up in my work somewhere, somehow. If the words aren't useful now, they might inspire me in the future. Over time, and with more and more life experience, you find that strings of words can take on entirely new meanings depending on context. And plenty of other factors." She snorted. "As for Astarion in particular, he will have to live with whatever I write about him, good and bad. I've already assured him that I won't write slanderous and completely inaccurate ballads like Volo would. But I never outright promised I wouldn't include something embarrassing."

As Gale spoke about himself, Alaara feverishly wrote. Splatters of ink came to make yet another art piece upon her journal's pages. 'A beloved Tressym companion- cares greatly about others,' she wrote. 'Has a library...'

Alaara drew a line connecting 'library' to her note about his knowledge.

'Good taste in wine. Enjoys the finer things in life.'

'Writes poetry-'

Her hand stopped immediately and she looked up. Gale. A wizard. A man that spent practically every waking hour steeped in magic wrote poetry as a hobby? He was full of surprises.

"Yes," she replied. "What are lyrics in a song but poetry accompanied by an ensemble? And what is a story if not poetry of life itself, written to parchment or orated to a crowd from memory?"

"All of them express the heart, nay, the very soul of the creator, regardless of skill level. And if you study a work enough, if you pick between the lines carefully enough, you'll always see the author laid bare. I would enjoy reading whatever you've written. Please, always feel free too share your work with me. Just as you're always welcome to peruse mine." "What would I find buried among the words in Gale's works?" she wondered to herself. What could she learn about a man who spoke so little about himself outside of being a wizard? She was deathly curious. "You know... I hail from Waterdeep; I moved there several years ago. I've heard plenty of stories, poems, and songs in the taverns there, even my own. There was one tale I heard often in every form of the art of words, and it changed with every person who told it. After hearing it for the hundredth time, I started making a game of piecing together the truth from everyone's interpretation. Or- the best truth possible."

Alaara paused, closing her eyes and idly tapping dots onto her journal's paper as she collected her thoughts.

"Somewhere in the city of splendors resides a man," she began. "He was young once. And when he was young, he was endlessly kind and giving. He loved spending time with people, loved helping people. But over time, as he grew older and wiser, he grew cold of heart. No more did he want to be around others. No more was his gaze upon the world kind. No more did he give to others. Waterdhavian citizens practically marked their calendars of the day the Recluse Wizard took to his tower and refused to leave it ever again. They wept, not for the loss of a beautiful soul, but for the loss of his talents."

Alaara finally opened her eyes, briefly snarling at the last bit. How selfish of Waterdhavians. "Some say when the Recluse Wizard locked himself away in his tower, he was ancient, far beyond mortal lifespan, and that his beard was to the floor and white as snow. Others say he was strikingly handsome, so much so that if you looked at him you would fall to your knees and weep. It was as if he exuded magic to make others fall in love with him. Still others said that if you were lucky enough to have looked into his eyes just before he ascended into his tower one last time, there was nothing but a sea of sadness in them...

It's probably just a story, but I've found it intriguing nevertheless. I looked for him off and on before getting tadpoled without any luck. I'd almost give my left horn to hear the real story straight from the source. Almost. But if I cut my left horn off as a trade for the allegedly very old but tragically handsome wizard's story, my head would be unbalanced...

Have you ever heard the tale? You're a wizard and you're into poetry. Perhaps you've been in a tavern and heard similar weavings before? Perhaps you've got your own take on the legend? Or maybe you've got a charming poem of your own tucked into your pocket that you'll lighten the mood with now that I've made it melancholic?"

"Apologies! Apologies!" Gale exclaimed, not at all intending to startle the bard. His attempt to stoop down and reclaim the fallen pen was hindered by his aching knees. It had been a long day of trekking, and between the wear and tear of the orb and the relentless passage of time, his joints suffered from the strain of their journey. By the time he had managed to crouch down, the pen was already being reclaimed by the other.

Gratefully accepting the offer to occupy the vacant spot beside Alaara, Gale settled in with as much grace as a weary wizard could muster. A soft groan accompanying, of course.

"Like a dying owlbear? Oh, I doubt our pale friend would appreciate that. I implore you to keep that snippet of description in your works come publication," he replied with a hint of amusement, craning his neck to see if he could detect the phrase in her writings.

However, his eyes paused mid-scan upon the explanation for his absence in the texts. It would be a lie to say the reasoning didn't cause a wave of relief to wash over Gale. For being unremarkable was possibly the worst thing to be as a wizard. His gaze flicked up from the page to the bard as she perused through her own work, then back down as she paused.

His brows knitted in concentration as he swiftly absorbed the notes dotted about him. Sparking eyes? An unusual observation, but a kind one. His dedication to his craft was evidently clear to others, aside from his vast knowledge. Yes, magic in its entirety, his goddess included, was everything to him. He had no need to attempt to hide as much.

He could dedicate hours, entire nights to discussing the Weave with another if they so wished. But to talk about himself, the man behind the magic? It felt foreign. At times, he didn't think he was more than merely a shell to contain a fraction of the Weave.

The previously knitted brows unfolded as he tried to consider who Gale was when not a wizard.

"Hmm…" Fingers drummed against the ground in thought. "Well, I have a companion—Tressym—a library, and a good taste in wine. When time allows, I may also dabble my hand in poetry. Would you happen to have much experience in the poetic arts?"

[glitt3r-litt3r]

can u do everlark where katniss is actually pregnant during catching fire and she gives birth during mockingjay. this is after they rescued peeta. and basically peeta is like freaking out about having to kill katniss and when katniss first goes to see him he starts to freak out at her but he immediately stops when he sees the baby. obviously he's still weary of her but he's distracted because he's just so emotional over the fact that he has a child.

happy valentine's day in panem boo!!!!

Happy Valentine's Day in Panem!!!! Sure babe I can definitely write this. I hope you don’t mind me turning it into a 3 part series! Timeline is a little wonky but imagine she got pregnant during the victory tour. Flashbacks in italics! 

Enjoy!!!

Little Bird Part 1

Katniss POV

“it costs everything that you are” Peetas face is calm and polished, blending in with the lavish chair he sits on. He’s alive and not hurt and his eyes are still blue. I can practically smell the roses through the screen and it makes me gag in my seat. Gale is staring holes into the side of my head but I can’t take my eyes off the screen. My stomach flips suddenly and a hot sweat begins to drip down my neck. 

There’s too many people here

I need to leave right now, Peetas saying something about ending the rebellion but I can only focus on not spewing vomit onto my gray ill fitting jumpsuit. As I walk I realize how tired I am and there’s no way I'll make it back to the room in time. Another wave of nausea hits me as I hold the wall for support. Come on little bird just a little longer.

You’re alive. They haven’t killed you, yet. Yet.....

Vomit fills my throat before I can choke it back and there’s nothing left but to open my mouth and let it run down my chin. Peeta is alive in the capitol. The sudden hope I had in the cafeteria was gone now only filled with dread. A baby. We are having a baby, I am having a baby. I had grieved the loss of someone who was still alive, and now where to put the sorrow but bury it. 

“I’ll see you at midnight.” Even as I said it, something felt wrong. There would be no meeting him at midnight. His eyes were focused on mine, looking for an out. For a way to tell Beetee he wouldn’t be separated from me or his child. 

Don’t let me leave

If I started to cry he would stay. I want too but that feels more like a death sentence than a plea. I’ve always had good survival instincts and I was right. If I had stayed with him they would’ve killed me the minute we got to the capitol. The heat was not helping me, only making everything appear under a haze.  Kiss me again

just once

just give me one more kiss and hug and then it'll leave to the beach with Joanna and I can feel better about turning my back and walking away. Severing limbs has never been my strong suit, once his kindness rooted itself inside my chest there was no removing it. I held my stomach as we walked, for the cameras I told myself. I’ll see you at midnight, by the hanging tree.....

The thought of the hanging tree drew me back to 13 so quickly there was a brief moment when I looked around for my mother to scold me for singing it. After it was banned from my house my father would only sing that song alone with me in the woods. She thought the contents of the song were too sad for children but so was starvation so we never pushed the topic. Slowly I realize she is here, talking to me. 

“Come on Katniss. Let’s get you cleaned up.” She says

“ Come on” Prim is here too, holding my hands and smiling. 

This is when she looks her most beautiful. Ever so helpful little girl who seems to be more put together than I do on most days. They lead me back to the room, clean me and put me in a new outfit. When I sleep, Peeta comes to me again.

There are holes in my memories the size of landfills but one thing stays. The arena. In almost perfect detail. The worse I worry about Peeta the more he visits me at night. Cleaning him off and feeding him in the first one. Realizing I'd never be apart from him again in front of the cameras. The feeling of him enveloping me on that beach, covering me in an invisible shield of his words. His hands handing me my pearl, the curve of his unmoving chest when he hit the forcefield, the way his hair dripped in the dense air of the jungle. I’ve never been so aware of the way someone looks, how they move, the way they laugh. 

“Nobody needs me” There’s no sorrow in his eyes, he’s kind of smiling at me actually. He’s so sure he’s right it makes anger flash through me. How could he sit here and with his whole chest believe that nobody would be happy if he lived. If not for me at least for whatever is growing inside me. The waves crash again in the background and I’ve grown to understand why Finnick loves the water. So calming and unapologetic, so blue. His eyes stay steady on mine.

“I do. I need you.” 

under the false sunset it feels more romantic than what I really want to say. which is, I can’t do this without you. You need to live because you’re a better person than me in every way and I won’t be able to live without you. This baby is doomed so let me die and let them come with me. He must read my mind quickly, because he’s kissing me. I can’t focus on anything other than this, his soft parted lips pulling me back from the dark corners in my mind, in a way only he knows how. Peeta is simultaneously unraveling me and putting me back together, making a new with my scraps, turning me into something beautiful and free. Turning me into a bird, woven words of love and a dying song in the back of my throat. I hope he can feel it, how much I meant what I said. So when he pulls back, our usual stopping point in front of the cameras, I grab the back of his head and hold him there. Stay with me. 

I wake with a start, sitting up quickly clutching my stomach. The sudden movement was hard to make and I’m out of breath by the time I realize where I am. Prim lays asleep in the bed next to my mother, holding the end of her braid like she did when she was a toddler. The bassinet Plutarch gifted me sits at the end of the bed, empty and hollow looking. Soon it will be alive with the shrill cries and soft sounds. It will hold the most precious little girl the world has ever seen. Her little peeps and small hums. Nothing could stop my smile now.

There’s going to be a baby in there in about 2 weeks. Peeta’s baby. Our baby. I spent 2 months in denial. It took 4 months for me to even say the word baby. Took Gale 6 months to look me in the eyes. All those times I shut down the ideas of having kids, even with him, who I trusted with my life. He avoided me any way he could, if we weren’t needed together he didn’t stick around. In that time I grew to miss him more and more. I thought Peeta was dead and that Gale would do what he had always done and kept my family safe. While I missed him, being around him brought so much guilt I could hardly stand it. 

One time he looked up while Coin was discussing a new propo, something about how ‘The Mockingjay carries the child of the future’, and our eyes met briefly before my knee’s gave out and Boggs had to catch me. He hadn’t stayed to see if I was okay, left quickly and silently without being dismissed while everyone fret over my health. I thought he severed our friendship, cut out the rotting meat to salvage what was left of his heart.

The weeks following that revelation were the worst of my pregnancy so far. I was grieving both Peeta and Gale, it left me hollow and bitterly resentful of the thing growing in-between my ribs. I wanted it gone, I wanted to be rid of it. I felt so horrible for thinking like this, cried myself sick until Prim had me sedated and in the hospital for a week under observation. She was kind enough to remind me that the baby would probably have Peetas curls and smile and if we were lucky, his kind soul. This sent me into hysterics once again but once I had finally leveled again I realized she was right. 

If I couldn’t get Peeta back this baby was the next best thing. I would cling to it hoping to catch glimpses of him in between all the stubborn parts that would mostly be me. She would be perfect. 

Now, a certain fondness has rooted itself inside my stomach. Before I was pregnant the thought of carrying a child was far scarier than being in the games. Watching my child become a victim before they had even opened their eyes, a slave to the capitol and a puppet in a sick show of power. Watching their name get called in the reaping used to wake even my mother up with my screaming nightmares. It was out of the question, Katniss Everdeen would not be having children in this lifetime. 

Damn you Peeta.

Something weird flooded my head then. It started at the top and traveled slowly over me, goosebumps raised on my arms and the tops of my thighs. It was excitement, and hope. Such deadly things I thought I crushed at the ripe age of 12. Those parts of me, the parts that disappointed me, were to be locked away now showing up in the middle of the night. Sneakily they crept into my head and now they were planting themselves in my future. 

Peeta is alive, we can save him. He can meet our baby. 

Just then a kick, followed by another. A tiny jolt of life courses through me and I feel more alive than I have in weeks. 

Sleep comes easy now at the thought of Peeta holding our little bird in his arms.

[cheri-translates]

[CN] Gavin’s S2 R&S - Inevitable

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers from an R&S (不可抗力) which has not been released in English servers!🍒

This R&S features S2 Gavin!

It is incredibly important to read Ch 9 Part One before embarking on this!

[ Chapter One ]

At midnight, a young man makes a turn at a secluded alley, walking into a small hotel that’s still open for business.

He walks around the main hall, and straight into the innermost booth. The sound of shuffling in the night is continuous, and the dealer holds a cigarette in his mouth, drawing a card.

A hand suddenly approaches, and the muzzle of a gun covers his temple.

"How long will it take for you to finish this round?" Gavin’s voice is calm, fingers exerting more pressure on the trigger.

The others are so frightened that they rush out. With no way out, the man suddenly whips out a knife and swings it at Gavin. Gavin grabs his wrist, the other hand reaching for the handcuffs.

All of a sudden, a voice rings in his head: Don’t get hurt, and don't ignore the consequences. If he were to do this, it seems someone would be very sad. He doesn’t seem to want to make that person sad either.

In that second of distraction, the knife glinting with a cold light in the man’s hand slices the area between Gavin’s thumb and index finger. The thoughts in his mind accumulate amidst the pain. Gavin gathers some strength in his palm, a raging gale rolling up the battered tables and chairs. The man’s gaze turns frightened...

-

Three minutes later, the man, who was puffed up with pride earlier, is firmly handcuffed and kneeling on the ground, begging for mercy.

Gavin pushes the person out of the booth, and the colleague responsible for providing assistance steps forward, escorting the person into the police car.

In the main hall, the little girl who was clapping her hands and singing the birthday song earlier has burst into tears, shocked by the sight before her. Her mother comforts her. "Don't be afraid, darling. This is the Special Police Uncle who catches bad men and is here to protect us.

After glancing at him, the little girl cries even more fiercely.

Gavin nods to the girl’s mother apologetically, then walks towards the claw machine at the entrance of the hotel. After a short while, he returns, hugging the largest doll in his arms.

"Happy birthday.”

He hands a huge cartoon doll to the little girl, then turns and walks out the door.

-

An hour of interrogations is enough to leave one exhausted. Tang Chao stretches, holding a tidied statement while heading towards Gavin’s office.

It’s late at night, and the lights are still on. Tang Chao knocks thrice but receives no response. He tries pushing the door open, and is shocked to find that Gavin, who is seated behind the desk, is neither dealing with a case nor official business. Instead, he’s in a daze.

Gavin leans against the chair, his gaze fixed on the computer screen for a long time, brows furrowed deeply. Tang Chao walks over and glances at the screen - it’s a report regarding the arrest of the producer from [MC’s Company Name] not too long ago. He reaches out, waving his hand in front of Gavin. He asks, "How many fingers?”

When Gavin glares back coldly, Tang Chao feels relieved. However, seeing the scab wound on his hand, he’s confused again - what could be so important that he’d forget to tend to his wound?

He places the tidied statement on the table, then drags Gavin to the infirmary. "Even a body forged in iron can’t be compared to you.”

Fortunately, the wound isn’t deep, and can be healed in a few days. But Tang Chao’s intuition tells him that Gavin is a little different from usual. This time, the offender wasn’t considered dangerous, and could be easily subdued by Gavin’s skills. How did he get hurt this easily?

Before Tang Chao can ask a few more questions, Gavin has already vanished without a trace.

-

[ Chapter Two ]

At four o'clock in the morning, the clerk at the 24-hour convenience store yawns, overcome with boredom as he stares at the TV commercial on the wall to pass the time. A cheerful electronic sound rings. The automatic doors slide open, and a young man walks in. 

The clerk perks himself up, and is about to say "Welcome" when he realises that the customer in front of him looks very familiar.

This man lives in an apartment in the vicinity, and visits this convenience store frequently. Sometimes, he drives past in a smart-looking motorcycle. When someone tries to hit on him occasionally, he always rejects them coldly. It’s a pity that whenever he visits, he either buys instant noodles or instant bento... looks like it’s the same this time.

When the clerk sees him heading towards the convenience food shelf, he sighs in his heart: Young people these days don’t take care of their health at all.

Gavin leans down, his gaze flitting across the neatly arranged food on the shelf, absentmindedly differentiating the expiration dates marked on the packets. 

Shiitake mushroom flavoured instant noodles aren’t tasty. The stray cats at the entrance of STF prefer meat, not anchovies. Don’t get hurt, don’t get mired in danger alone, don’t leave without saying a word.

Such thoughts once again surge forth. From a certain point in time, many unfamiliar experiences have been intruding into his life. It’s as though he’s sharing another memory, these disordered fragments of memories twisting into a long, thin thread, holding onto his wrist, tugging at him secretly from time to time. 

Gavin returns to his senses, subconsciously drawing back the hand that was reaching for the convenience food, and picks the brand at the side which contains more vegetables.

When checking out, Gavin notices that there are rows of potted succulents next to the cash register. 

"This is a public welfare activity jointly launched by our store and the Loveland City Environmental Protection Association. For every plant sold, we will donate the same amount of funds to the environmental protection charity.”

Seeing how unresponsive the young customer in front of him is, the clerk is tactful as he continues scanning the remaining products, "Nine dollars in total.”

The receipt is printed, and the clerk hands it to him along with the bento. The young man suddenly points at the small potted plant that had just emerged from the soil. 

"Add this too.”

-

Back home, Gavin throws his jacket into the washing machine, sets the time for washing and drying, then heads into the bathroom to take a shower. 

A strong gush of water flows from the shower, and white mist quickly fills the entire space. The stinging pain from the wound sobers him up quite a lot, and he subconsciously thinks: The wound should be tended to quickly, and “she” can’t know about it.

Realising what he’s thinking, Gavin is once again stunned-

Who’s “she”?

And why is he so concerned about how that person feels?

Stepping out of the bathroom, the washing machine makes a "ding" sound. Gavin wipes his head and walks over to take a look, only to realise that he had put bleach instead of laundry detergent. He stares at the washing machine in silence for a while, then reaches out to unplug the power, retrieving the ruined jacket.

After all of this, Gavin suddenly remembers the small potted plant he just bought. The clerk said that if it is placed in a location with sufficient sunlight, there would be new shoots in a week, and that it’s very easy to grow. 

Gavin places it on the balcony, then picks up the phone and begins to search "How many times must succulents be watered in a day". Whether it’s a mere illusion, that sense of deja vu once again surfaces.

"What in the world am I doing...?" He mutters to himself, tossing his phone aside a little irritatedly. He returns to the bedroom, lying on the bed and closing his eyes, waiting for sleep. 

In the depths of this autumn night that no one knows about, the rain outside the window patters against the leaves gently, and there is a very, very light stirring in his heart.

Gavin opens his eyes, looking at the ceiling which is illuminated by car lights. Suddenly, an unnamed emotion surges in his heart - he feels that the memories he has never been able to grasp weren’t “forgotten”. Rather, they are “losses” which render him powerless.

-

[ Chapter Three ]

On a rare, idle weekend, Tang Chao calls a group of friends from the STF together for hotpot. Right after ordering the hotpot base, Lu Yi’s conscience suddenly bugs him, and he asks if he should call Captain Gavin over. 

Thinking about how rarely Gavin gets to rest and how he definitely wouldn’t be willing to see this group of people, Tang Chao knowingly shakes his head. However, his mouth has a different idea. “I’ll call him then.”

On the other side, a few special police officers are comforting Xiao Zheng from the Publicity Department who was hurt emotionally. Xiao Zheng fell out of love last week, and has been feeling extremely fragile and sensitive these few days. Hearing the bitter love songs in the shop, his eyes immediately redden.

Tang Chao taps open his contacts list, silently recalling the odd behaviour of Gavin recently. He isn’t interested in being a busybody, but his instincts tell him that Gavin has something on his mind, and it’s a change obviously brought about by that girl’s appearance. But whenever Tang Chao wants to inquire about it, the words get halted by Gavin’s killer glare. 

Thinking about this, Tang Chao glances at Xiao Zheng sympathetically, and comes to a definite conclusion - if Captain Gavin were to continually suppress his emotions without releasing them, it’d result in an illness.

Tang Chao asks the waiter to serve two dozen beers, then dials Gavin’s phone.

"Good evening Captain Gavin. Have you eaten?" 

"I don’t mean to annoy you, but Captain Eli invited us to have butter hotpot. You coming? 

"Don't be in such a hurry to refuse. I’ve got something to talk to you about. Yes, it’s happening right now... it’s of utmost urgency.” Tang Chao shoots a grin towards an astonished Eli. Then, he continues fabricating a tale. "I don’t want to run laps. There’s a genuine matter.

Half an hour later, Gavin frowns as he walks into the hotpot restaurant. Seeing this, a few young special police officers immediately set down their chopsticks and stand up straight in a row. The only thing they haven’t done is to salute at Gavin. 

Tang Chao grins, asking the waiter to bring an additional pair of tableware over. “Captain Gavin, you’re here.” 

Gavin glances at Tang Chao and says in a cool voice, "What’s the urgent matter?"

“Xiao Zheng fell out love, so he asked you over to console him with us.”

“...”

Xiao Zheng frantically waves his hands in surprise, stammering a retort. Tang Chao pushes him back onto his seat and signals for him not to speak. 

"Don't be sad, the chances of people ending up together is always unpredictable." Tang Chao pats Xiao Zheng on the shoulder. "Besides, who doesn’t have someone in their heart? Don’t you agree, Captain Gavin?" 

These words are akin to a sudden clap of thunder on a calm sea. Xiao Zheng immediately forgets to cry. Eli immediately straights up, and the others hurriedly set down their chopsticks, whipping their heads over to look at Gavin like meerkats.

Gavin remains expressionless, though the hissing sound emanating from his body is even cooler than the ice cubes in the beer.

Since they’re in public, Tang Chao knows that it wouldn’t be convenient for Gavin to give him a beating. As such, he’s incredibly composed, and continues with his questions without a fear of death. “Captain Gavin, why aren’t you saying anything?”

“Why do you think this has anything to do with her?”

“I already saw the photograph back in the training days. Is she the lady from before when you roared “Tang Chao, put your hands away”?

[Note] These are references to R&S [Tempering] and Ch 2 Part One!

"...Tang Chao!”

“I'm here, I'm here." Tang Chao fills Gavin’s glass with beer. "Captain Gavin, I actually realised that you haven't been in the best state recently, but you don't like speaking your mind. I’m showing my concern." 

“It’s said that you speak the truth after drinking, and today’s beer should be enough. Whatever you want to say, whatever’s suppressed in your heart, just release them all happily. Right, Captain Eli?”

After three rounds of drinking, Tang Chao fails to get Gavin drunk, but ends up drinking too much himself. Once again, he complains about Gavin's "Death Training" back in the days of special training. In the end, Gavin foots the bill. 

Eli steps forward and pats him on the shoulder, saying, "Did something happen recently?" Gavin shakes his head in resignation. "You really believed him? His mouth is like a runaway train.”

Eli looks at Gavin and sighs. "I know you don’t need anyone to worry about you.”

"But that kid Tang Chao said one thing right. If one keeps suppressing their feelings, they’ll be suppressing problems.”

-

[ Chapter Four ]

On the way back, Gavin sees withered leaves on the branches along the street, and only then remembers the small succulent he had bought not long ago. 

Back home, the potted plant on the balcony shrinks alone in the corner. Originally thinking that the plant he had left “free range” for so many days would meet a premature end, it turned out to be alive despite having a few withered leaves. Gavin finds this a little unbelievable, and he becomes more meticulous in watering it.

-

The next morning, Tang Chao opens the door to Gavin’s office and apologises solemnly. "Captain Gavin, I'm sorry. I promise that I’ll never inquire about your personal life in the future, let alone make arbitrary conjectures about your feelings.”

Without looking up at Tang Chao, Gavin only tosses out a sentence. "Before next Monday, re-check all the case data in the Archive Room.”

The Archive Room is on the third basement floor. The dust is very dense and the materials are very thick. Tang Chao wails immediately, leaving dejectedly.

Gavin picks up the document Tang Chao had just placed on his desk. It is a sealed report for the seizure of "small syringe" production plants, which records in detail the batches and output of pharmaceutical companies which participated in the production.

Reaching the final part of the report, Gavin is silent for a moment. At the end of the report, there is a line of small characters - "Ten boxes of drug samples are suspected to have gone missing." 

Without putting much thought into it, a face with a beaming smile locks onto his mind.

“...I won't investigate you this time." He sighs, putting the report back into the drawer. 

After ferreting the mole out of STF, Gray Rhino seems to have erased all traces of the "small syringes". But Gavin knows they wouldn’t withdraw easily from competing for "CORE" - naturally, neither will Black Swan.

Gavin is clear that the current peace will not last for long. Before the girl stands against him on the opposite side, what he has to do is be one step ahead, obtaining more crucial information as soon as possible.

The phone beeps, notifying him of a new e-mail. Gavin is pulled back from his thoughts, and his eyes fall on the unknown email that popped up.

"Congratulations on your successful registration in the Hunter Game" - the sender’s address is encrypted, and there is no doubt that no information can found.

Gavin's thoughts gradually settle. His hands are clasped lightly on the table, his gaze falling on the words "Hunter Game", his gaze turning sharp and determined. 

That place definitely has something they’re looking for.

-

[ Chapter Five ]

In the STF Intensive Care Unit, a dripping sound accompanies the plastic tube. Gavin sleeps very peacefully, and he feels like he had a lot of dreams in his dazed state. They aren’t nightmares which wake him up with a start, but dreams which make him willing to remain asleep.

However, it seems he can only remember the final dream from the long series of dreams. When he’s roused awake by the sound of footsteps in the corridor, what lingers before his eyes is a blurry yet familiar face. Gavin sits up on the hospital bed, the pain from the no-longer-effective anaesthesia making him more awake. 

Despite not telling Tang Chao and Eli about his participation in the Hunter Game, they aren’t suspicious. They’ve grown accustomed to Gavin’s aloof nature, and as such, assumed that he went on a secret mission.

During his absence over the past few days, there was a new development in the Evolver assassination incident - a new victim has appeared. 

Gavin is very clear that if the cases were to be allowed to ferment, the higher-ups from “that side” would intervene in the matter. They have to take immediate action.  

“There’s one more tricky thing." Tang Chao sits at the edge of his desk. "For the latest assassination case, we encountered a witness with a special situation. We might have to ask an Evolver who can read memories for help."

Tang Chao blinks and asks, "But I don't know any Evolvers with this ability. Do you know any, Captain Gavin?”

-

According to theory, aside from work purposes, they should be keeping a distance from each other. But according to the girl, the reason why they’ve come out for an idle stroll is, for one, to relax. Two, to search for inspiration to solve the case.

The lead from the only witness to the Evolver assassination was cut short. Gavin isn’t affected much, since he knows that this matter isn’t simple. In contrast, the girl is especially bothered by it, and feels apologetic for not being able to help. 

On the bustling street in the afternoon, Gavin returns to his senses, taking the oden which the girl hands over with a smile. 

When walking by her side, Gavin realises that he’s barely thinking about the things that are bothering him. He naturally picks up her conversation topics, as if they had wandered aimlessly on the street side by side before. 

Does she feel the same way? In his heart, Gavin shakes his head in self-mockery, wanting to forget these thoughts which confuse him.

Walking out of the food street, rain patters down. The pedestrians on the street crowd together suddenly, rushing towards the station. Gavin holds up an umbrella, planning to send her back. 

The yellow wintersweet flowers exude a subtle fragrance in the rain. The smell, colour, and the scent of the person next to him seem to be magnified, forming a memory of the present moment. 

Perhaps, even before he noticed it himself, while he has been deliberately neglecting the complex emotions in his heart, they have been also been growing in a place where he cannot see. When she calls his name, when she accidentally touches his hand, it’s as though some things from a very long time ago are coming back to life in his mind--

Someone had once called his name using such a tone.

Someone had once held his hand in this way.

Someone... was once his strength.

The emotions which he conceals deeply, whether they are good or bad, were once held gently. 

A scorching wave of heat suddenly rushes into his chest.

The traffic lights change, and the crowd waiting at the side of the street slowly surge towards the middle of the road. The surrounding pedestrians squeeze past each other, bumping into his shoulder from time to time. 

Gavin lifts his head abruptly, watching the side profile of the girl as she’s in the rain. It’s as though there’s an intriguing overlap. It’s as though a very long time ago, his heart had leapt this fiercely for her.

The girl suddenly turns around, looking in his direction and waving at him. Putting away her umbrella, she points to a mother-daughter duo hiding from the rain underneath the bus stop. She asks for his opinion through her gaze. Without much thought, Gavin removes his jacket, brisk walking towards her in the rain.

Raindrops patter down, and the water beneath his feet leave splashes in their wake. Akin to rain, they land on his body. It’s as though he gets slightly more drenched with each step. At this moment, Gavin realises that on days when memories are muddied, he has grasped a thin thread since a long time ago.

The jacket supports a narrow world, and wind and rain occasionally blow in. 

If their reunion was meant to verify their directions, no matter what the future holds, what he has to do now is to run forward with her, together.

[Note] Please don’t ask me about the Hunter Game! I haven’t had the chance to read the earlier chapters in detail so I don’t know the specifics 😅

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