#brings hurts into my home and desecrates my feels

[askinkiskarma]

The Archer | Chapter VI: The Great War

Chapter I Chapter II Chapter III Chapter IV Chapter V Chapter VI Chapter VII Chapter VIII Chapter IX Chapter X

Summary: Your secret meeting with your dad brings out the worst in you and your mate. The RDA go after one more tulkun in the beginning of the biggest fight of your lives - for your lives.

Pairings: Neteyam x Avatar!Reader

Word Count: 9.7k words

Warnings/notes: lots of angst, mentions of death, blood, violence, cursing, SPOILERS for ATWOW

A/N: I apologise in advance for the next few chapters, but I am feeling feelings and you have to feel them with me!! This chapter took a little longer than expected, but I am trying to not kill myself juggling everything I currently have going on. As always, thank you so so much for engaging with the story, and replying, liking, reblogging, following etc etc. (all the good things). Ily all and can't wait to share the rest w you soon xoxoxo

You drew up some good faith treaties, I drew curtains closed, drank my poison all alone

You said I have to trust more freely, but diesel is desire, you were playin' with fire

And maybe it's the past that's talkin’, screamin' from the crypt

Telling me to punish you for things you never did, so I justified it

You were hyperventilating a little, entering the tent that you now called home and revelling in the silence, which you needed desperately to make sense of what just happened. They did it, they killed a tulkun. You’ve heard from the Metkayina that they were doing that, far away from the village, but now they did it here. You knew instantly it was a ploy to drive Jake out, drive you all out, and you wondered meekly if Jake would answer. Even if he didn’t, you didn’t think the Metkayina would just let this slide. Your dad, your dad left you a message. And you lied about it. Why would you do that? What in tarnation possessed you to do something so stupid? You lied to Jake, to Neytiri… to Neteyam. 

You were mad, mad at Jake that it had to come to this point. You told him, you fucking told him months ago. You should have never run, ever. You told him they would find you eventually, you told him innocent beings would get hurt as a result of hiding. Death would follow you wherever you went because the RDA wouldn’t just give up, and they had very little to lose. People were disposable to them. You, on the other hand, all had everything to lose. 

You were mad at your father, for yet another atrocious act. You were mad that he desecrated any good association you had with his memory once again and made you hate him, hate yourself for having any connection to this cruel, sick, twisted individual. You were mad at your mother, who chose him, who allowed him to be your father, who protected and defended his honour and memory your entire life and in death, and you wondered what spell he put on her that she was so so blind about this man. 

You should just tell them. Tell your family and take them with you and just kill him. Your heart sank as you considered that he might kill them on the spot if he notices anyone else with you. Maybe they could take the ilu? Maybe you and Jake would be enough to take him down. You didn’t like how much your brain was screaming in pain at the thought, at watching your father, that you’ve never even met before, lying dead on the ground, bleeding out in front of you. Why should you care? Why do you care? Why did you lie? It was painful, near damn unbearable having to admit to yourself that you wanted to see him, you wondered what he had to say for himself, this man that has been an almost mythical thing in your life, that gave you self-loathing issues you can’t outrun and haven’t outgrown, this man, this man, this man. 

Maybe it was a trap. Maybe he wanted to draw you out to kidnap you, to use you as leverage to draw Jake out. Maybe he knew from Spider how close you were to the Sullys, knew you were bound to the hip with Lo’ak, knew you were mated with Neteyam, and that you would perhaps bring them along and he can get a Sully kid to threaten and manipulate the former Olo’eyktan. It was a good plan, you thought, except you would go alone, and you were more than capable of killing anyone who tried to get in your way. Your dad would learn that soon enough, as you were determined to finish this, once and for all, and free yourself of this burden and this nightmare that has plagued you far longer than anything else has.

Neteyam came into the tent before anyone else did, looking at you curiously. 

“Are you alright? You seemed quite shaken after seeing the tulkun.”

Calm yourself. You couldn’t lie to Neteyam. It was one thing having kept that you were sick, it was one thing to lie by omission. You couldn’t lie to your mate, but you had to try. 

“Can you blame me?”

He sighed, then approached you, pulling your body into a warm hug. His hand went to the back of your head, softly stroking your hair with the pad of his thumb in a calming motion. The guilt was eating at you, deep and unpleasant at his trusting, loving nature. You sniffled into his chest, soft tears escaping you and landing on him. You were crying because you were scared, because you felt like you were betraying your family, the only family you’ve ever known for a man who could be killing you tomorrow, or using you to kill them. You didn’t know what was wrong with you.

“It’s alright, Atan. We will be alright. Dad will come up with a plan.”

You didn’t say anything, afraid that any words out of your mouth will be a dead giveaway and Neteyam will be able to see right through you, as he usually could. 

The evening was quiet and tense, as your family returned to the tent after helping Ronal and Tonowari. There will be a funeral for Ro’a, and traditional rituals will take most of the morning tomorrow as a final farewell to the tulkun and her calf. Luckily, Tuk slept in between Neyriti and Jake tonight, and with a big lump in your throat and a thumping heart, you went to sleep nestled in Neteyam’s embrace. 

You waited patiently for everyone to be fast asleep around you, room filled with deep, regular breaths. You knew as soon as Neteyam fell asleep, as he twitched when he did, then started snoring softly in your ear. They were all light sleepers, except for Tuk and Lo’ak, trained soldiers, ready at a moment’s notice for trouble, ready for battle. You had to be careful, you had to put all that Na’vi stealth training to good use. 

It took a while, but eventually you made it out, carrying a handgun that you managed to remove silently from the tent, without having alerted anyone, and pushed passed the village into the mangrove forest where Neyn was. When you were sure you were past the point anyone could have heard you, you let out your calling cry, and you watched as your beautiful banshee made her way to you, cooing gently at your sight.

“Did I wake you, sweet girl? I’m sorry, but I have to do this.”

You got on her, making Tsaheylu, and felt concern in her as she took you away in the dead of night, and without your mate to accompany you. She was a little scared, as she was very rarely on her own, Seze always keeping her company on such late nocturnal rides. 

You rode for a while, loving the feeling of the warm air on your face, loving being back on your ikran, that you used to fly with every day in your old life and you sighed soundlessly, knowing an ilu will never compare to this feeling right here, to this beautiful creature you knew was your spirit sister. You thought about Neyn, and how you would feel if you lost her, if she was killed, and you felt her wobble a little mid air as the intense emotions on your mind engulfed you both. You tried to calm yourself for her, so she could keep a steady pace and a straight path. She was here, she was okay, there was nothing to worry about. 

As was made clear in the crude note, about 10 kilometres east of the village was a small island with nothing on it that you could reasonably see except a deserted beach and a couple mangroves. It was small enough to know it was empty and safe, big enough to shield you both from any suspecting eyes. 

A man was waiting for you. An Avatar, he was tall and muscular, dressed in the same camo outfit as that night months ago, the night you almost died at Alien hands, just like so many Na’vi did before you. He was beautiful, you thought. Even in this form, you could recognise the traits you got from him, and you knew then anyone would be able to tell you were related, no matter which body you inhabited. 

“So it’s true.” You heard yourself saying, trying to reconcile the thought that this man was indeed your father, brought back from the dead. 

“What exactly are you? Are you an Avatar? You’re not controlling a body with your mind through a neurolink, so I guess Avatar is a bad name for it. Abomination would be my preferred trademark name, if you’re taking suggestions for T-shirts or action figures.” 

He wasn’t speaking, just looking at you intently, and you swore you saw the glimmer of tears in his eyes. He came closer to you. Your hand picked up the gun you had tucked in your loincloth and pointed it straight at his face. 

Your thumb went to the hammer, that you pulled down. With the gun loaded and your index finger on the trigger, you saw the man flinch briefly, but he recovered immediately and continued to stare at you, at your face and features. 

“You have your mother’s eyes.” 

Your hand slightly trembled on the gun. 

“Stop. Whatever father daughter reunion you had in mind, you’re gonna be disappointed. I’m here to make you answer for your crimes.” 

He raised an eyebrow at you. Fuck, that’s where you got that from. 

“If you were here to make me answer for anything, you would’ve brought Jake Sully with you, or any of the kids you were with that night.” 

“You mean the night you almost killed me?” 

“Also you had no way of knowing this wasn’t a trap, but you came alone anyway. You put yourself in harm’s way to meet me here in secret. Just like I did.”

You don’t really have a comeback for that. So maybe he wasn’t some jarhead dropout after all. Didn’t matter. He’d be dead in a few minutes anyway. 

“I know you must have a million questions, just like I do. Can you please lower the gun so we can talk?” 

“I only have one question for you. How do you sleep at night?” Your eyes welled up, angry tears like needles, prodding, begging to be released. “You killed a Tulkun. Just like you killed so many Na’vi. How do you live with yourself?”

“I didn’t kill the Tulkun -“

“Do you think you’re gonna get away with this on a fucking technicality? Do you think that telling me it was all Quaritch is going to make this fucking better somehow?” 

He looked pained for a moment, gaze shifting from your face to the ground. He looked embarrassed. 

“You’re right, it doesn’t.” 

A silent sob escaped your lips. “Why? That was someone’s spirit sister. She was a beautiful creature, she didn’t deserve to die.” 

“Quaritch wants to bait you out in the open. He hoped that if he did that, you would attack.” 

You hissed loudly. “And what did you do? Watch?”

He recoiled a little at your words, embarrassment still ever present on his face. 

“Pretty much.” 

“That’s just as bad. Inaction is just as bad.”

“Inaction is necessary when you’re using them to find a daughter you have never met. I had to take that risk, I had to say nothing, and I don’t fucking regret it. You’re here, aren’t you?”

“Not for long. I have nothing to say to you.”

“You do. I know you do, because you’re here. Please, just give me a chance. I need a chance.”

He sounded desperate and your welled-up eyes stung now, trying so hard to keep the tears in, trying to be strong, trying to not humour him, to not show him that this was tearing you apart, tearing apart all of the stitches of your patched up pretty new blue heart.

“Please, put the gun down.” Your lips trembled and fingers twitched on the trigger, and with a loud curse, you lowered your arm. 

“You know, I could have killed you that night. I killed two of your little friends, had you in my shot. It would have been an easy kill.”

“Then why didn’t you?”

Your eyes moved from him to somewhere behind him, thinking hard, trying to justify it to yourself as much as him. It took a few minutes of introspection to figure out you had nothing.

“I don’t know.”

He moved from where he was and sat down by the beach, in a tiny enclosure that was shielded from areal view by the trees, but still overlooked the beautiful sea, flowing back and forth with soothing waves. He looked up at you expectantly, and you moved to a rock a little further away from him, facing his body, prepared for any possibility. He sighed.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” 

“So, how did this...” You pointed with your gun, that you unloaded for the moment, all over his blue body. “...come to be?”

“When I first came to Pandora, part of the contract stated that if I die, I give permission for them to put my consciousness in an Avatar body so they can revive me in case they need me again. They did the tests and took the chip that contains…well, me… right before the last battle.”

“Why would you agree to that?”

“I didn’t really have a choice. I needed the job, I would have signed anything, done anything they asked.”

“Why?”

He didn’t look at you as he spoke, but to the distant sea, fiddling with his fingers. 

“I had a daughter. Back on Earth. Her name was Sarah. She was everything to me, and she got sick. I worked for the Air Force at the time, but they let me go after I sustained an injury in the war they said deemed me unfit for service. The money I was getting on vet benefits was not enough, not enough to save her,  not enough to matter. Then I found a job offer for the RDA, a mission to a beautiful far away planet. The pay was phenomenal, and I knew I was good enough to be accepted. I had accolades up the wazoo, and was desperate - exactly what they needed. They gave me the first pay check before we took off, and I had to have faith that the money was going to be enough to save my baby girl. When I came out of cryo, six years later, I found out she had died.”

You saw light reflecting a tear dropping on his face, and your heart hurt painfully in your chest. You have wondered for years, your whole life, what could have possibly gotten this man to give up a life on Earth for such a despicable cause, and now that you knew, you didn’t know if it was relieving you of your guilt or not. On one hand it did, because it was as good of an excuse as it got, but on the other hand, it amplified it at the horrid ways you have thought about your dad all these years. You thought him a cold-hearted killer, a monster. Turns out, just like Jake, just like Neteyam, just like you, he was just willing to give up his own life, his peace of mind, for someone he loved. 

“I’m sorry.” 

He smiled a sorrowful smile at you. “It was a long time ago. But anyway, when I found out, I was in pieces. Whatever heart I had left, my little baby took with her. I was jaded and broken, and wanted nothing to do with this world. But these men and women, the soldiers I met, they became my family in time. They pulled me out of a very dark place, and in turn I gave them my undying loyalty and whatever little was left of my soul. I knew then I would protect them with my life, and with the life of the Na’vi, if needs be. It wasn’t right, but it is who I am. Who I’ve been since as long as I remember. A soldier, an army man. I fight for my country, I fight for the job and for the squad, and I don’t complain, and I don’t question it. It was a good way of living, easy to digest, it helped me sleep at night.”

“And then I met your mother.” His smile changed from one filled with sadness and pain to a happy one, a melancholic one, filled with love and wonder. “She was a shock to the system, to every system. She was kind, and loving, smart and curious, soft and patient, but also the most badass, brave, strong person I knew. It was such a complex mixture, I didn’t think anyone like that could exist. But she did. And, somehow, she saw me. She saw more in me than what I thought I was, she saw who I could be, who I think I wanted to be all my life without ever realising. I fell so deeply in love with her, I could feel my heart beating again. She was everything to me.”

The tears were falling freely down your face now, and you didn’t have it in you to stop it, didn’t have any power over your own mind, who had trouble understanding what it was going through, all the information it had to come to terms with in such a short span of time. 

“Spider said she died.” His voice broke as he said that, and you tried to compose yourself from becoming a sobbing mess.

“Yeah… she did. When I was ten. Cancer.” 

“Ovarian?”

Your eyes snapped to him, not being able to stop the shock on your face. 

“Her sister and grandmother died of ovarian cancer, too.”

You didn’t know that. She has never told you that. 

“Are you an Avatar? I didn’t think it was possible for them to make Avatars on Pandora.” 

“I’m not an Avatar, technically. I used to be, but I did the consciousness transfer, just like Jake did almost 20 years ago.”

“Why?”

You sighed loudly. You didn’t know whether you could trust him, whether he would use the information you gave him to betray and hurt you. But at the same time, you have waited for this chance your whole life. You have wanted to speak to the man in front of you, wanted to bond with your dad that you never even met, and so you had to try. 

“Multiple reasons. From an objective point of view, my human body wasn’t made to survive this world. I was stuck in a lab for 18 years, or stuck to an oxygen mask. It wasn’t ideal. From a subjective point of view, I fell in love. With this planet, with the Na’vi… with a boy. My mother and the scientists made me this Avatar so I can live my life the way it was meant to be lived: giving myself fully to it. So when I felt ready, I committed by becoming one of the people for life.”

“There has to be more to that story. I know we don’t have a lot of time, but please, just tell me everything you can.”

So you did. You spared little detail about your mostly miserable existence, hoping that it would make him feel like shit that he didn’t try harder to be part of your mother’s life, that he didn’t forsake his kinship bond with the murderous soldiers and ally himself with the Na’vi when he had the choice, perhaps ensuring his survival, and the presence of another parent in your life.

“Jake found me in the woods, and brought me to Norm and Max, but then my heart stopped for 30 minutes. In those 30 minutes, I saw her. I saw mum, and she told me the truth. That the cancer wasn’t what really killed her. What killed her was your death, that she was never able to get over. She was so depressed, so lost, she chose to die than become one of the people. I realised then I did the exact same thing throughout my whole life, and that I wanted more time, to heal, to love, to live. So Eywa gave me a second chance at life. And I took it. I cured the virus, I became Na’vi, and now I am here. That’s pretty much it.”

Gideon’s head was spinning with the influx of information that was being thrown at him. It was so hard, hearing everything, hearing everything he’s missed. It was hard to deal with knowing this girl sitting in front of him, beautiful and blue, a strong Na’vi warrior, was his, and that whoever she was, he had no part in it. His heart constricted hearing how much pain you have had to endure, how hard your life has been, and know he was directly responsible for at least some of it. His mind echoed with your words about his Jo, about how she died, about whyshe died. The hatred he felt for himself, for his actions and inactions quickly reached an all-time-high, and he almost prayed you’d change your mind and point that gun at him again and finish the job.He couldn’t speak, so he just stared into the abyss, hoping that words, any words would come to him, knowing they won’t, knowing no words would be enough, no words would ever erase or change the damage he had done, the anguish you’ve had to endure.

“This... Neteyam. Is he a good kid?” 

He saw you smile softly, almost bashful at the mention of this boy who was in a lot of your stories, who seemed to shine a light on your otherwise dark life.

“He’s the best. We’ve been through… a lot. And it’s not always been easy, in fact, for like a year and a half he was a lot of the reasons I hated this life, I wanted it to end. But whatever’s ever happened between us, our differences, our fights, it’s never been out of lack of love. On the contrary. I think both of us love each other a little too much for either of our sakes.” 

“Does he treat you well? Do they all… the Sullys, the village, do they treat you well?” 

You smiled again, at him this time, and Gideon swore his whole body stopped - your smile, your eyes, the glimmer in it… Jo. His Jo was still here. His Jo lived so well within you, every ounce of you a walking reminder of the woman he loved more than life itself. Soft, and brave, and strong, and smart and curious… like Jo. 

“They treat me well. They always have. I was the one who pushed them away for years, but their love and desire for me to be in their lives never wavered, and I could not be more grateful. They gave me a family, and a place of belonging. They gave me a squad, and I would do anything for them.” Your expression shifted suddenly, to a hard one, one directed at him. “Anything.” 

“Why are you here? Are you here to sell me out? Are there people spying on us, tracing back where I came from so they can find Jake? Are you here to kidnap me? You either set me up, or you took a big risk leaving that message for me, hoping no one would see it, hoping no one could read it. Which one is it?”

He hated how the first thing you thought of and associated him with is vile and cruel, and underhanded, but he couldn’t blame you. He didn’t have the best track record, otherwise he wouldn’t be standing here right now.

“If I wanted you kidnapped, or found, you would have been kidnapped, or found. Do you think I don’t know you and the Sullys are in Awa’atlu?”

You mouth fell agape, eyes wide and ears pushed back at the new piece of information. He saw your tail stop moving, a sign of alertness and fear, and watched as you cocked the gun and pointed it at his face again.

“Who else knows about this? When did you find out?” 

“No one else knows.”

“Then how would you know? How did you figure it out?” 

“I still have a few aces up my sleeve, kid. Your finger’s not on the trigger, so I don’t think you’re planning on shooting me yet. Can you please lower the gun?” 

“What exactly prompted this little change of heart, if this is even what this is?” 

Gideon pulled out the rock that he found in his makeshift grave and watched as your expression deepened from surprise and fear to shock, amazement. 

“This did. I found a little spot in the forest, where it turns out I died. I found the recording, I saw Weinfleet, that son of a bitch, kill me. Although I guess that’s fair considering I did the same to him. I found my body, that you buried. And this rock.”

Gideon looked at you, at this girl who was undoubtedly his, undoubtedly Jo’s, with awe displayed all across his features. He couldn’t believe you came from him. He wishes he could have seen you as a little girl, as a human, he is so sad he didn’t get to see you take your first steps, or say your first word, or shoot your first gun. He wishes more than anything he could have taught you. He loves you, he realises. He loves you, despite so little time, because you’re his, you’re Jo’s, the best of both of them.

The man saw you thinking intently, tugging at the inside of your lip so hard he was scared it was going to bleed. He didn’t know what to expect from you. It was easy enough to read you as your face mirrored your feelings as if he had a direct link to your thoughts through it, but somehow you were still an enigma to him. He’s never seen Sarah grow up, he’s never had to be a dad to a young woman, a fierce warrior, a scientist who thinks about everything, calculates three moves ahead. He wondered sadly if there is anything left for him to teach you - you seemed as self-sufficient as they come, and a twinge of jealousy for the Toruk Makto blossomed in him, for getting to raise you, for getting to see you grow up, for helping make you who you were right now.

“So what now? I mean it’s a long shot, but maybe I can convince Jake to let you come to Awa’atlu, we can go and ask the Olo’eyktan, we can say you had nothing to do with it, it will be hard, but maybe if I -“ 

“I’m not coming with.”

“What?” There was no more confusion or focus on your face, just anger, pure unadulterated rage. 

“I have to see this through. I have a better chance of protecting you if-“

“Oh, fucking stop. You’re really going to play the martyr act til the end, aren’t you?”

“I can protect you from them, I can find out wh-“

“YOU CAN'T FUCKING PROTECT ME. I DON’T NEED YOUR PROTECTION, I DON’T WANT YOUR PROTECTION.” 

“I need you to prove to me you’re better than I think you are. I need you to show me, that despite all the fucking horrendous things you have done, my mother wasn’t a fool to trust you. To love you.” 

“Don’t talk about your mother like that, girl.” Gideon was panting now, angry with you, with how quickly you were dismissing a perfectly rational plan for your emotions, for the desire to not part with a grudge you’ve held on to for 19 years. He understood it, but there was a line, and Jo was that line for him, always. 

“You go back, everything you have said to me, everything is moot. Because you have a chance to be better, to do better, you have a chance to fight on the right side once in your life, and you’re not going to take it?” 

“I’m not going to repeat myself. I have a better chance of protecting you, protecting the people you love… your family, from there. I can figure out what their plan is and I can warn you.” He pulled out a radio and receiver from one of his pockets. “Take it. It’s set on a different frequency than what they use, or you and the Sullys use. It can be for us. Wear it, I will contact you if anything happens, and you will know and you will be safe.”

You hissed loudly at your dad, tears pricking painfully at your eyes. 

“Are you really going to pass on an opportunity to protect your family, your mate, because of your ego? I know you want everything done your way and you think you are always right, and you know what? You probably are. But this is more important than this. Just take this.” He took your hand in his and opened your palm and placed the radio and receiver in it. He closed your fingers in a fist, and let you go. “I will be in your ear, I will be there to tell you if anything’s wrong. I will do my best to fight this fight the way I think is best, the way my gut is telling me to. And when this is over, I will come. And by then, I hope I will have proven myself at least enough to be worthy of a second chance. I want to get to know you. I want you to know me. And when this is over, maybe you’ll want to. But for now, I have to go. And so do you.” He looked up and you saw that eclipse will be over any minute. Shit. Time got away from you. Neteyam would have woken up by now. Fuck.

You saw him turn around and call for his ikran. You were shocked he had passed the Iknimaya, and you made a mental note to ask him about it when you saw him next. Just for research purposes, you weren’t curious for any other reason. His ikran was beautiful, dark blue with hints of gold and pink all over, almost like the opposite of yours, the yin to your yang. You called Neyn and she came quickly, batting her wings at you playfully. She made a new friend, it seems. You sighed as you got on her and made the bond. 

“Is Spider alright?” 

“He’s fine, he’s integrated at well as could be expected. I think him and Quaritch are bonding.” You didn’t like the sounds of that, but you said no more on the subject. You were late enough as it is.

“Prove me wrong. Please.” 

“I will, kid.” 

You both took off at the same time, in the opposite directions, and you turned around and watched him with tears swiftly running down your cheeks, blown away by the warm air hitting you in the face. Dad… 

As you made your way back, your mind was running a thousand miles a minute with so many thoughts that were fighting for dominance. The top contender was concern and mind-paralysing fear at the thought of seeing Neteyam and knowing he will know, know you were gone, know you couldn’t lie, you couldn’t even try because he would know that too, and the fight that would ensue as a result. When did things get so complicated? 

You were relieved to not see any lapis blue Na’vi anywhere in sight when you dismounted your ikran, and you quickly started making your way to the village when a voice, the voice, stopped you in your tracks, like shackles to your feet. 

“You know, when we saw that sign on the tulkun yesterday, I felt your heartbeat in your wrist increase to three times its normal speed. I could feel your panted breaths in the back of my neck. I knew something was wrong. You may be able to lie to my dad, to anyone else, but you can’t lie to me, Atan.” 

Your breathing was laboured and shallow, and you felt scared to turn around, to face him. He came so close to you, his breath was making the hairs on your back stand up like needles, hurting you from the forcefulness of his presence, from the anger that was so palpable it was pulsating all around you. 

“What did you do?” 

“Neteyam…” you turned around, and you regretted looking at him. Because this wasn’t your mate, not anymore. This was the perfect soldier, the Olo’eyktan in the making, the Na’vi warrior, and he was looking at you like you were a stranger to him, like you were the enemy.

“What did you do. I need to hear you say it.” His voice was calm, too calm and it reminded you of the knife he always kept on his waist, sharp and deadly.

“Neteyam…” 

“How long has this been going on?” 

“How long has what been going for?” 

“This, you mingling with the fucking enemy, you lying to my family, to your family.” 

Your eyes widened in disbelief, as you took in the accusations your mate was carelessly throwing at you, like pebbles on the surface of the sea. 

“I know you are upset, and I am sorry I lied, but please don’t jump to conclusions.” 

“The message on the tulkun was from my dad. It was the first time I have made contact with him. I haven’t been mingling with any enemies. I just wanted to see what he wanted. I have a gun, I was prepared to kill him.”

“Your dad is a fucking murderer, he could have killed you, he could have kidnapped you. It could be a trap. We could be fucking swarmed by the RDA in the next 20 minutes and it would all be your fault.”

You couldn’t believe him, you couldn’t believe the words that were coming out of his mouth. Neteyam was many things, but he wasn’t cruel and he definitely wasn’t so quick to blame, to draw unwarranted conclusions. You have known he has been acting a little strange for a while, and you knew there were things eating at him that he is yet to share, but you hated how instead of communicating them, he was lashing out like a wounded animal. You felt anger bubbling in your stomach and you tried really hard to keep it at bay, knowing that both of you attacking each other will not be productive whatsoever. 

 “Neteyam, stop. You’re being unfair. I know you are mad at me, and I know you have been upset about things you have refused to talk to me about for a while, but I will not stand and watch you attack me.” 

“You are right, it was risky, and I am sorry. But I’m not fucking stupid. I was careful, I made sure nobody followed me as much as I possibly could. I didn’t tell you because I was scared if you came, and it was a trap, you were a much bigger prize than I was.” 

“Oh, that is such fucking bullshit. If you told me and I came, you had double the chance to defeat whoever was waiting for you, whoever left you the message. But you didn’t want that, did you? You seem to like saying one thing when you mean another, don’t you?” 

“Ok, what the fuck has gotten into you? This is so not about me leaving.”

“No, it IS about you leaving. It’s about you lying. It’s about how every time I think we’re in one fucking place, it turns out we’re about five steps behind.” 

Neteyam watched as you stretched on the grass of your clearing, taking deep breaths in with your eyes closed, peacefully enjoying the outside, which you never really saw anymore. It will be your 17th birthday in a couple months, and Neteyam was wondering sorrowfully if he will get to be there for it. It’s been eating at him, the realisation he needed to leave, leave your life forever, but he was painfully grasping at every chance to see you, still be with you. He couldn’t imagine a life without you, and soon, he’ll have to live through it. 

Recently, your relationship changed. You have always been close, so close the whole world around you felt like just a playpen for your souls alone, but recently, things… evolved. Everything about it felt heightened, like it reached new zeniths Neteyam never thought anyone would be able to feel without collapsing from the intensity it pulsated through his veins. He’s always loved you, Neteyam mused. His whole life, there was not a moment he has not loved you. 

But as he watched you on the grass, soft shiny skin, so unlike his own, your tiny figure and those eyes that, despite being closed, Neteyam knew every inflection of by heart, he knew he felt more, that he fell in love with you - deeply and irrevocably. It wasn’t a recent development, either, it has been going on for a while, but in light of everything he knew he had to do, Neteyam knew it would hurt even more to vocalise these thoughts or even acknowledge them for himself. Only hurt could come of whatever it was you two had, and there would be no cure for the calamitous heartbreak he would have to go through when he did decide to leave for good, so the less he thought about you two together, your body on him, his lips on yours, spoken confessions and wondrous nights - the better.

“Hey, do you ever think about kids?”

“Kids?”

“Yeah, about having kids. About the future, about little Neteyams running around the village, one day bound to inherit your titles, and your beautiful soul and your endless good looks. ”

He blushed at your comment. He has, Neteyam thought. Multiple times. He thought about a family, about them running through this clearing, about their mother singing to them with that incandescent voice and worn-down guitar, and then he had to stop thinking about it, because it hurt, it took him out, the pain of knowing it was never going to be possible. It nauseated him, the idea of another woman, a woman he’d have to love and give himself to, a woman that wouldn’t be you, and his children that wouldn’t have your eyes, or your hair, or your propensity for being a lovable know-it-all. 

“Not really. It’s still a lifetime away. I’m just trying to enjoy each day as it comes along.”

Neteyam watched as you propped yourself up on your elbows and eyed him inquisitively. You were so tiny, you had to stretch your neck to look at his face. 

“Liar. You’re not a carpe diem kind of guy. You think about everything. You told me you had your whole future planned out when we were like seven.” You got up and walked to where he was sitting on the ground, back against the bark of a tree. When you were on your feet, your face was at the same levels as his, so you got really close to him, so close he could feel your breath on his face, and tried to ignore the thumping heartbeat and shivers going down his spine at your proximity. It’s gotten easier in time, being this close to you, as you have always been a touchy person, so he had no way of avoiding it - not that he would want to avoid it. 

“So why are you lying to me, Ne-te-yam?” 

Neteyam gulped, and he wondered if you knew - what this was doing to him, what you were doing to him. Wondered if you felt the same way, if you also felt dizzy when he was this close, if you also felt your knees weaken in his presence. 

“I’m not lying… I used to have everything planned out, but not anymore. It’s a little more complicated, this whole life thing, than I thought it was going to be when we were young.” 

Your gaze shifted from him to somewhere behind him, and you looked sad and deep in thought, subtle pain obvious in the way your eyes glistened with new-found tears.

“Yeah, I know.”

“Do you ever think about kids?” Your eyes found his again, and you looked hurt by his comment, and the unshed tears found their way down you cheek, that you wiped immediately. You turned around and started walking towards the river, and you kneeled next to it, looking at the way the water flowed, peaceful and determined. 

“That’s not funny.”

“I wasn’t trying to be funny… you asked me, so I assumed it’s because you were thinking about it.”

“You know I can’t think about kids, Neteyam. I can’t have kids, unless I have them with Spider.” You rolled your eyes and laughed a joyless laugh and he felt anger envelop him just at the mere thought. Agonising images were flashing through his mind, of you two, a much better fit for each other, compatible in biology and bodies and he felt suddenly sick and regretful of ever asking. 

He faintly saw you look back at him, and you clarified - you knew, knew he needed it. “I’m never having children with Spider, Neteyam. I was just saying, unlike you, the prospect is never in the cards for me. You will go off, find yourself a suitable mate, beautiful and smart and kind and fit to be a Tsahik, you will have a life and a family. I won’t. I will never have a tiny me running around, I’ll never have my parents’ genes, and everything I’ve learnt, and everything I am live on.”

You sighed, and the tears were falling swiftly in the palms resting upwards in your lap.

“Would you? If you could? Have kids… with someone else?” 

You smiled a small sorrowful smile, and looked up at the sky, almost as if you were praying to whoever could hear you.

“If I could… yes. With… someone else.” 

“Just fucking admit you don’t want to have my kids. You don’t want a family.” 

And the hits keep coming. So that’s what this is about. The guilt you felt about lying to him and sneaking out was quickly dissipating and being replaced with rage, burning heavily and brightly, wanting to leave nothing but destruction in its wake. 

“Excuse me?” 

“You heard me. Why? Why are so desperate for those pills, why do you hate the thought of having a baby with me so much? Do you have any fucking clue how that makes me feel?”

“NO, Neteyam! No, I have no fucking clue, because you won’t fucking talk to me. You have some nerve to hold these feelings inside after months of me asking you what is wrong, of KNOWING you are not ok, you LYING about it and then exploding in my face and demanding an explanation in this way.” 

“You know what? You are right. I don’t want a baby with you.” As soon as the words came out of your mouth, you knew it was too late. You knew you made a mistake. Because while the words were true, they were also not the whole truth. And as you watched your mate’s heart shatter in front of you, yours did too. It was too late to stop, though, as the rage was eating at your insides, begging to be released. 

“Why in God’s name would I want a child with a man who continuously puts himself at risk and will most likely get themselves fucking killed in the nearby future?! I grew up without a parent, Neteyam. I grew up without a dad. And I grew up with a mother who was heartbroken because of the lack of dad, and killed herself when I was fucking 10 years old. Do you have any idea what that does to someone? Do you have any idea the hell I have lived through my whole life? The holes in my chest nobody was able to fix, not even you, they’re still there. They’re patched up nice and neat, as well as anybody could hope for, but they’re still there. They will always be there.  I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy, much less on my child. So no, I do not want a baby that will grow up an orphan, that’s why I am so fucking desperate for those pills. And if you bothered to ever share with me, share what’s been bothering you, you’d know this.” 

Neteyam looked broken, eyes on you but not really, unfocused and distant, and you tried to calm down, tried to make words come out that could fix your previous ones. Your eyes were frozen on his, frozen on the tears forming in them, watching as they fell down his cheek and onto his bare chest. Eventually, it’s like he snapped back to life, and he started moving, not sparing you a second look. As he passed you by, you grabbed him by the wrist and stopped him. He removed his arm from your grasp like it burned him, like being touched by you was poisonous, and you winced at it, knowing deep down you deserved it. 

“Neteyam… I have dreamt about having a family with you for so long I can’t even remember when it started. I dreamt about our children, careless and free, happy and loud, running around the village, swimming in our clearing. I dreamt about teaching them guitar, and watching you teach them how to hunt or shoot a bow. I dreamt about them growing up and feeling sad about how quickly time is passing but being grateful for being able to watch it go by. I dreamt about their Iknimaya, and flying together for the first time. I dreamt so many things, for a long time my dreams were the only things keeping me going. Even when you were gone, the dreams, they never left. I had to live with knowing they would never come true for so long before I got the Avatar. I had to live with knowing I’d have to watch you have someone else’s babies, and it killed me. It killed me.” You were crying now, your chest convulsing in pain at the memories, at the present, at seeing Neteyam’s back tense and rigid, of not being able to look into his eyes. “When I got my Avatar, and we started being close again… when you kissed me for the first time, when you held me in your arms before my Iknimaya, I had flashes, flashes of hope, that despite my sickness, maybe those dreams weren’t impossible anymore. They were quickly shattered, of course, but they were there. Then after my consciousness transfer, the humans came back, and I was scared. I was scared of having a family during an active war. I thought we both agreed on that. Then watching you continuously put yourself at risk for Lo’ak, watching as you almost died in that train battle, it snapped something in me. My entire life, all the hurt and the pain of being orphaned came back full blast. Neteyam, if you die, I will too. And I don’t want to put an innocent being, our innocent being through that.” 

“Please, try to understand.”

You watched as Neteyam left you without another word and you were unsure if you would ever be able to fix this and you couldn’t help clutch your chest to try to alleviate the pain that was so strong it was radiating all throughout your body, just like one sentence, over and over. Did I lose him? Did I lose him? Did I lose him?

Neteyam walked towards a village like a ghost, like zombie, like a body without a soul, or a mind, just robotically taking step after step, trying to figure out if he could wake up, if this was a nightmare, if it was some sick joke. 

I don’t want a baby with you. I don’t want a baby with you. I don’t want a baby with you. 

Crack after crack, the pieces of his heart shattered like a broken jigsaw, like the one he did with you and Kiri when you were children, huddled together in the recreation hub. So he was right. He was right, his insecurities, however ridiculous they seemed sometimes, they were not without merit. You didn’t want his children. Not children, just his children. Because of who he is, because of his life choices and his desire to protect his family, his brother, you didn’t want him. Neteyam heard you justify it, and maybe somewhere deep, deep inside of him, he knew you had a point, that your own unique circumstances entitled you to this view, that you weren’t being unreasonable, but the hurt, the pain, the anguish and betrayal, they ran deeper. What was he supposed to do now? How would you ever be able to resolve this?

He noticed absentmindedly that there was commotion in the village, screams and wails coming from the Olo’eyktan’s tent. He felt himself walking towards it, with no real input from his mind, which was numb and in its own isolated, desolate little world. 

He heard Tonowari’s imposing voice, screaming over the booming voices of the villagers. As he approached, he saw his family, his father in the middle of the crowd, desperation all over his features. 

“This war has come to us! We knew about the hunting of our tulkun people, but it was over the horizon, far away! Now, it is HERE!” Neteyam saw the Metkayina poke their tongues out in a war cry, and he knew what he feared, what his family feared, is finally here. There was no avoiding it, the war with the Sky People, no avoiding the deaths that followed. Fear enveloped him, momentarily replacing the anguish you put in him, and he wondered where you were, if you had run away, as you used to like doing when you were young. Were you in danger? 

“Look, you have got to understand how the Sky People think.” His dad was trying to force his voice through the ululation, trying to get them to see reason. “They don’t care about the great balance.”

“WE DON’T ANSWER TO SKY PEOPLE.”

Neteyam couldn’t help his voice from speaking. “Listen. Listen to him.”

“They are not going to stop, this is only the beginning. You have to… tell your tulkun to leave. You gotta tell them to go far away!” 

“Leave?!” The Tsahik look disgusted with his dad, and he knew the Metkayina would never understand. None of them will, because they have never lived through what the Omatikaya had. They had no idea the depth of the cruelty, and lack of morals that plagued the aliens. They had no idea the loss his village suffered at their hands, and the sacrifices his family had to make. 

“You live among us and you learn nothing!”

“WE WILL FIGHT TO PROTECT OUR BROTHERS AND SISTERS!”

“No no no no! IF YOU ATTACK, IF YOU FIGHT, THEN THEY WILL DESTROY YOU!” Pointing at Ronal’s pregnant belly, his father continued. “They will destroy everything that you love!”

“Hear my words!”

Like an out-of-body experience, Neteyam heard himself speak yet again. “Listen to my father. He speaks the truth.” 

The Toruk Makto picked the red impaling rod they found on the tulkun yesterday, got up to where the Olo’eyktan was so he was towering above everyone else, and pointed it for everyone to see. 

There was quiet all around him now, the villagers watching his dad carefully, with focused eyes. 

“You tell the tulkun that if they’re hit by one of these, they’re marked for death. And call for me, I’ll silence it. Saving their lives. That’s all that matters, right? Saving your family.”

“Tell the tulkun.” 

“Go, go!” 

Ululating can be heard all around as the Metkayina hurried and dove in the water, rushing to warn their brothers and sisters. Neteyam’s gaze shifted instantly to Lo’ak. He wouldn’t…

He would, it turns out, as Neteyam saw his baby brother hurrying out of the tent. He followed in his footsteps, knowing very well what Lo’ak was intending, knowing he had to stop him, no matter what. 

Neteyam watched as the younger Sully was sneakily placing a saddle on his ilu. 

“No way you’re running out today, baby brother.”

“I have to warn Payakan about the pingers.”

Neteyam was in no mood for this.

“No. You have got to keep your skxawng ass here.”

“He is outcast. There’s nobody to warn him but me.” Neteyam saw Lo’ak getting aggravated, the way he always got - his brother had no control over his emotions, never had, always ready and more than willing to explode at the slightest perceived slight. 

“Why do you always have to make things so hard, Lo’ak?”

“No, you mean why can’t I be the perfect son like you?” Neteyam’s heart took yet another beating, and he was unsure how much longer it could continue going in light of today, in light of everything it has had to suffer. First you, now Lo’ak, it seems everyone he loved was taking turns kicking him until the breath was knocked out of his lungs, until he would be unable to stand back up. 

“The perfect little soldier. Well, I’m not you!” 

The anger overtook Neteyam, who made his way so close to Lo’ak he was towering over him, a dark expression marring his features. 

“I’m not you. He’s my brother. I’m going.”

Crack. Crack. Crack.

“He’s your brother?” He pulled Lo’ak by the arm as he was turning away, speaking through clenched teeth. “No, I’m your brother!”

The conversation was interrupted by Tsireya and Ao’nung, both of whom jumped from their ilu and onto the platform they were on. 

“Lo’ak!” 

His brother took the opportunity that presented itself when Neteyam’s attention shifted onto the two siblings to escape his tight grip and jump into the water, immediately leaving towards Three Brothers Rock, where Payakan was. 

Neteyam didn’t think of anything else besides saving Lo’ak in that moment, and, as he called for his own ilu, he finally knew in his heart that you were right. 

You were flying, faster than you should be, considering the rain pouring all around you and the fact you could barely see a few meters in front of you, but you couldn’t stop. Because if you stopped, you’d have to think, you’d have to deal with the consequences of your actions, and that would be too much, too painful. Neyn was worried, as she could also not see, but she trusted you to guide her, she trusted you to keep her alive - her worry extended to you as well, to the horrid mood that seem to plague you, for the deep anguish in your soul that was making her cry loudly. You tried to calm her down, petting her gently. 

“Tam tam…” 

You have been going for a while now, longer than you knew you should have. You had little idea where you were, and where you were going. You didn’t even know if you could go back. Would you be able to face Neteyam again? Would you share a tent, would you ever be able to fix this?

You were so harsh, harsher than you needed to be. You hated his predisposition for following in his brother’s dangerous steps, but you promised him you’d be there to fix it. You told him you didn’t want to change him, that you would be there to patch him up. You told him you’d protect him. And instead of doing that, you struck him where it hurt most. You both had a habit of hurting each other, both had a habit of shooting to kill when in pain. So much has changed in between you, so much has changed in your worlds except the one thing that should have, that one thing that needed to. 

“Kid, are you there?” 

The voice pulled you out of your pondering, a voice you now recognised as your dad’s. 

“I’m here. Over.” 

“I don’t have a lot of time. The ship is hunting another tulkun. A solitary one.”

Oh, no… It can’t be.

“We’re about two klicks out. Kid… the Sully kids are there too.”

You felt all air being pushed from your lungs, unable to breathe in, feeling yourself becoming faint at the lack of oxygen and maddening heartbeat deafening you. 

“I will try to stop them. I don’t know if I can do this on my own.” 

Breathe. Try to breathe. 

“Hold your position. I’m coming. Get me a gun. Over and out.” 

Kiri. Tuk. Lo’ak…. Neteyam. Adrenaline coursed through your veins like icy water, waking you up, focusing your mind. You had no time to go back. You willed Neyn towards where you thought Three Brothers Rock was, and prepared yourself to fight for your life, for your family’s life, for your dad’s life. 

Your mind flashed to your fight with Neteyam, knowing you had to do everything in your power to make it right, not knowing that fight was the last conversation you will ever have with him before both of your lives are changed - forever. 

Taglist (thank you ily x) @changing7 @erenjaegerwifee @im-in-a-pansexual-panik @winchestertitties @puffb4ll @rebeccao03 @ultimatebluff @cottoncandy23 @zaddyneteyamlovergirl @n3t3y4msm4t3 @loquatious-josephi-krakousky @eternallyvenus @fresh-new-yoik-watah @lu-the-ghost-reader @@miawastakens @mm0thie @fanboyluvr @amortencjja

[theminecraftbee]

There’s a flier someone’s left on the bus. Something shaming a—company logo he doesn’t recognize, as he shoves it aside to grab the last seat in the back that usually means he and Gem don’t have to sit next to anyone else—for “desecration of the Carrows Life”. Alright; with a logo and a slogan like that, it’s either a religious nut job or one of the people real mad at the Church about the demons.

Yeah, sure. He’s exhausted. Impulse can’t really bring himself to care about neon-yellow fliers in the dead of night on the bus.

Just another hour and practically every single stop down the line, and he’ll be home. He’s glad there’s a late-night bus down here; enough people come and go from these streets at two am that they make some poor bus driver do the route.

Next to him, Gem grumbles as she removes her makeup. “Impulse, why do I keep getting the waterproof kind?”

“Hard to dance and still look good if it doesn’t stand up to sweat,” Impulse says, settling into his seat as the bus starts moving again. “Don’t see why that should make it that much harder to remove, unless you’re sweating acetone these days, but they don’t pay me to know how your makeup works.”

“No, they pay you to be your stupid big protective butt. You absolutely know how my makeup works,” Gem says.

“You could wait until we aren’t on a moving bus to take it off?” Impulse offers.

“Nah. I need something to do so I don’t fall asleep, and I’m not opening my other bag until we’re both safely at home.”

“Yeah, fair,” Impulse says, not glancing at it for too long. Gem had a good night tonight. Sometimes, he’s jealous of the nights she has; the amount people are willing to throw at her sometimes is insane. Most of the time, though, he’s just glad he’s paid a regular salary to stand in the corner and occasionally show people exactly why he’s so big if they act up.

(Someone’s got to do it.)

The doors open. The unmistakeable smell of someone on way, way too much weed wafts through the doors. Impulse sighs. There’s a reason they sit in the back.

“What are the odds we get lucky and get home early?” Gem says. “My knee hurts.”

Impulse looks at her sharply. “You didn’t say anything during the show.”

Gem laughs. “Relax, relax. Not that bad. Nothing a bit of icyhot won’t solve, or one of your little…” She wiggles her fingers.

“You need to tell me these things before you dance on them, Gem,” Impulse says. “One of these days, I won’t be able to fix it! Then what are you gonna do about your knee, huh?”

“Uhuh. And the bruise on your face…?”

“He was drunk,” Impulse says. “It’s barely a scratch. Or, uh, well, it’s a bruise, but…”

“If I were any good at healing,” Gem says.

“I’ll ice it!” Impulse says, putting his hands up. “Besides, I don’t need my face to do my job. Might make guys respect me more?”

The bus stops. A few more people get on. There’s a bit of shouting from a drunk guy, and it makes Impulse look up on instinct, both his and Gem’s awareness hovering around their bag. Gem has a nasty curse on it if anyone but her tries to grab it, but these days…

The drunkard isn’t looking their way. He settles down again. Impulse doesn’t.

“One day, one of us will get a car, and we’ll just drive,” Impulse mutters.

“And pay for parking?” Gem asks.

“Well, it’s the thought that counts,” Impulse says.

The bus stops. Impulse looks up at the sign, just to make sure they aren’t near their stop. They aren’t. He almost looks down.

There’s a feeling in his gut. He doesn’t ignore gut feelings after as long as he’s been doing what he does. He puts a hand in his jacket. He doesn’t actually carry a gun; people think he does, but he’s fairly effective at threatening without it, and if all else fails, he does have a thick vest he’d bought with his own money after the only time he’d been shot. It had taken all of his savings, but it had been worth it.

He curls his fingers instead around the lucky charm Gem had given him after they’d become roommates and tries to focus on the feeling. There's something scraping nearby. A horrible scraping, like talons against brick, or maybe more like death clawing against soil.

The bus starts moving again. The drunks stay drunk. The fellow exhausted club and bar workers stay exhausted. The guy who’s high out of his mind doesn’t even blink.

A woman who had gotten on the bus, though, approaches them. Gem stiffens. Impulse is hyper-aware of the bag full of the night’s tips that Gem has with her.

“Hello. Sorry for interrupting,” the woman says. She’s tall. She has long, light brown hair that she hasn’t tied back. She’s wearing a long overcoat. It looks second-hand, but not properly so, like it’s being worn by someone who doesn’t quite know how to fit into second-hand clothes, or perhaps doesn’t quite know how not to fit.

There's bruises on her face, too. A split lip and a black eye and a bit of blood on the collar of her shirt.

"You look lost," Impulse says without thinking. The woman blinks.

"Oh! Yes, I suppose you could say that," she says. "That's..."

Impulse slowly takes his hand out of his jacket. Her voice is even more lost, somehow. Impeccably put-together. Very hard to read. But Impulse, he has to read people for a living, and this is a woman who is lost.

"I was just here because you two look the most aware and fit on the bus," she says.

"Oh, I'm not all that fit," Gem lies to the woman's face. "I mean, just look at me! I'm delicate!"

Impulse has seen Gem's abs. She's not delicate, she just puts on a show of being—still not delicate, actually, but the kind of not-delicate men like, not the kind of not-delicate she actually is. It's a fine line.

The woman raises an eyebrow. "Okay," she says. "I'm just—there are demons. Not far. I got away from them, but they might be following you."

"They're following you?" says Gem.

"Shhh," says the woman.

"Fine," Impulse says. "They're following you. Why? And why did you get on the bus?"

The woman is silent for a moment. "I don't think they'll catch up to us," she says. "I don't—I don't have another place to go back to, right now. I'm a bit... I don't mean to put anyone in danger. You two are the most fit looking people on here, is all. If danger did happen..."

Impulse feels something in him crack. He looks at Gem. It wouldn't be the first time the two of them have helped someone down on their luck off the streets. Of course, it's not entirely out of the goodness of their hearts, all the time, but, well, Impulse is still Impulse and Gem puts up with it and this world doesn't work if people don't help each other, Impulse has always said.

Gem shrugs and nods.

"Sit down. You can get off at our stop. My name's Gem, by the way."

The woman, slowly, sits down in a seat across from them.

"Impulse," Impulse says.

The woman opens her mouth. The woman closes it. "You can call me Griba," she says, finally.

Impulse quirks an eyebrow. "I can call you?"

"Hey, that sounds like—wasn't there someone with a name like that on the news recently?" Gem says.

The woman grimaces. "You could say that," she says.

Gem and Impulse look at each other. They look back at the woman. "Fine then. Keep your secrets," Gem says imperiously, and her tone works, because it makes—Griba, Impulse supposes, until she wants to give them her real name—laugh.

"At least until we find out if the demons get me," she says agreeably.

The bus stops again. They all tense. One person gets off and no one gets on. The bus starts moving again.

"One of these days," Impulse mutters.

"You've got to finish the sentence," Gem says. "Don't leave me hanging like that!"

"Is this an ongoing thing?" Griba says, and they continue onwards together.

[rewordthis]

If Love Unravels…

☔️

463 words SuguSato NSFW (and angst! Take it or leave it.)

Summary:

Geto Suguru never spiralled enough to turn himself into an outcast from the Jujutsu World.

What his internalised conflict brought about however, was a drastic change in his character…

The suppressed hate and desperation from feeling trapped made him volatile and often found release in covert yet vicious outbursts, most notably against the one person he trusted the most but also blamed the most.

The one that acted as a chain and a root to this twisted, cursed world—

Hello, sweeties~ I come bringing yet another 🔞 fic. I mean idk, I was minding my own business watching K-pop vids and then it hit me: “He pulls off his hat and runs a hand through luscious black hair.”

Like… that’s it. That’s what this whole fic is about! That one line. Go figure, ok? And no, I don’t feel one bit sorry for making Geto like *gestures vaguely* this... I’m not on that ship. lmao

They have just arrived home from their evening missions and all they both crave right now is a hot bath and a light dinner before going to sleep.

But he is irritated for some inexplicable reason. He just can’t relax. He pulls off his hat and runs a hand through luscious black hair.

It never registers with him how much overwhelming his aura has become, filling the room with anxious energy.

The other is just following his every move, engrossed in his very presence. Captive of the sensations these hands have left on his skin that suddenly feels too hot to bear and yet, frozen in his place with unreasonable fear.

Whatever has put him on the offensive, is going to be resolved one way…

And that is what terrifies him.

They have done this enough times until now for him to know that whenever the raven-head was in this state, it would become unbearable if he didn’t outer his anger. The fact that most of his piled up frustrations came from various times and incidents was making things worse, sending him over the edge with one wrong touch — one wrong word — like throwing a lit match in a tank full of gasoline.

And next thing he knows, is the cold of the surface he’s being pushed against or the hardness that grinds his bones when he’s finally snapped.

He knows the roughness that he is. The hard yanks and angry thrusts. The heat of his possessive marking.

The sickness of overstimulation…

He fucks him raw on the spot where he stands the minute he loses control of himself. And there is never — never — an apology that follows. A reason to justify his desecration. Just anything, to make him feel like this all is worthwhile.

There is… nothing—

That’s not to say he’s never been treated with delicacy and tenderness. He has. He’s found himself lost in his arms more times than he’d like to admit; warmth blooming under the chaste kisses and traces of his digits ghosting along the lines of his body. Their heated breaths mingled into whispered sweet words. Playful licks and soft bites. Long-lasting embraces and contented smiles.

He’s been a happy man.

Yes.

Yes. For a while now.

But every added time they do it like this, has him wondering whether he’s being used as a punch sack or if it’s just his imagination.

It hurts. And it’s not just his body or his pride. It hits someplace different. Deeper. Somewhere that would make him feel disgusted and sick in his stomach.

It’s not a feeling of being fed up with it, rather, it’s the sensation of emptiness that has his guts turn and makes him retch.

‘If love can unravel… it is while waiting for your return.’

———•———

a.n.:

Thanks for reading this far!!!

This is ridiculous, actually… had this siting in my notes since last year; probably from September or October — definitely before mid-November — inspired by this K-pop live short I saw on YouTube ‘cause welp… *bonks herself on head* started it with a specific pair in mind when suddenly halfway through I was writing for another!? lmao

So yeah… I liked how it turned out but I couldn’t really appoint it to any of my ships because the dynamics ended up a bit distorted…? Or more like all over the place! Yeah… ahahaha 😅😂

I mean it’s literally this one single line that sparked this short, that is also the only thing that kept my hands from tagging with any of the ships I drew inspiration from… 😗🤨 And oh, boy! After reading it it was screaming yet another one, too!? Gah!

Ngl, I short-circuited my brain many times thinking about a black haired seme and an uke that could fit the bill but nothing came to mind… 😮‍💨🙄 (ironically, also why this survived my writing app fiasco. Well, I don’t want to dwell on that anymore sooo, I just guess it sat in my notes long enough!)

But, hey! After a year — literally this week — Geto and Gojo popped up in my head and while I first went ‘Nooo!’, they did sound so good for this! I mean Gojo is so going to be this quietly suffering mess not because of character but because this is Suguru? Pff! I can see it so clearly, now! And Geto of course would exploit Satoru’s secrecy for his sake and neither would face the issue until they both become unable to face each other, like… Don’t you think so, too? I’d like to hear any thoughts on this, I’m very curious. hoho

Again, if you read through all this long-ass rambling, thank you so so much and I hope you had a nice time reading this story! 😊

[lyriccl]

Hurt / Comfort | No Longer Accepting.

@fjinyumi asked: “   you’ll  feel  better  if  you  talk  about  it .   i’m  here  to  listen .   ” // from leo !!

"Are you really sure you want to hear me talk about my issues...?" Emma's distaste for the Nohrian nobility wasn't exactly a secret within the army, and she was certain talking to Prince Leo of all people wouldn't be a good idea. But the man didn't look deterred. Sighing, Emma finally aired out her anger. "I warned you..."

"I grew up as a commoner in Nohr. We didn't have a lot of money, and my mother preferred to drink it all away anyway, but my dad made enough for us to stay afloat. He was a nice guy, he did steelwork. He was strong enough to bring the hammer down well, so he always had work."

"Then some nobleman conscripted him into some Hoshidan scuffles instead of his own spoiled brat of a son they called a man, because they had some quota to fill. We heard nothing for months. My mom got drunker, my brother angrier. One day, my mom realized we weren't being sent the money promised for my father's service, so she set about making quick money the easiest way possible... By making me and my brother do it."

Her words had a scathing edge to it. "Then a while after that, we learned my father had passed. There was no body to collect, they said. The Hoshidans incinerated him, they said... Bullshit. The Hoshidans aren't known for tactics that brutal. So someone on 'our side' desecrated his corpse and then covered it up. That's when I decided to become the 'Ariadne' persona. A vigilante who targeted nobles, because it was their fault it happened and only someone high up could have hid the truth of what happened to him."

"I broke into their homes, stole valuable information and leaked it to the public... All the while back home my mother was never coherent to stop my brother from trying to hurt me. So after that I decided that living on the streets was still better than poverty with a drunkard and someone trying to kill me. I don't even know if they think I'm alive or not."

"I'm tired though. I'm wanted dead or alive back in my hometown, I constantly look over my shoulder, I've been arrested and beaten so many times... I just want all of the corruption to end so this doesn't happen to anyone else... But I know it's unrealistic... Unless Corrin achieves what they're trying to do, anyway!"

[carlf329]

One last time

Funny. My last post was about her being team canoe and here we are again and she’s DEFINITELY team canoe.

I said I wouldn’t post again but I have nowhere else to go and nobody to talk to.

I feel like when my old man died all over again. Only difference this time is that instead of going on my bender binge in a hotel room I’m doing it while working and in hell. Maybe my heart gives out this time. I’m not twenty anymore. I’m surprised nobody has smelled me or noticed my sniffles or anything. Faking being asleep is horrible but I’m managing.

How did we get here? Easy. She went to the event that started us. She didn’t give a shit about it. She knew I was against it. But hey canoe and that big piece of shit gringo kept asking so how could she let them down?? She can’t even go to the building without making it known to canoe she’s there. She went and it made an event that signified us nothing. I threw out the key chain we bought. In my mind when we bought it I had such a great plan. I was going to save it and when we bought our house bring it out with the key to our home. Now that event means nothing.

I had promised to send a goodnight no matter what but this time it’s different. I have told her “I love you” two different times and she didn’t say it back. I have never not returned an “I love you” no matter what has been going on. So what’s the point? An unanswered goodnight and I love you? She even gave me a thumbs up to my last I love you. That’s why I even stopped checking the email.

She’s always said I don’t know how she feels and how I’ve hurt her. She’s always been wrong about that. Now she is even MORE wrong. She destroyed me. I know I’ve made MANY MANY MANY mistakes and have BEYOND fucked up. I dropped the ball more times than I should’ve but I never violated something ours. Last year for the event and 29 SHE planned a vacation. Like a faggot I drove her and picked her up. I skipped the event for the first time ever because it was OUR event. Guess the same way she felt about the 29 is how she felt about the event.

You know what’s funny? She said she couldn’t believe I would let that ruin us but she’s the one who said she was done. She’s the one that said it was over. I have NEVER said it nor would I. She’s the one who went to our event and desecrated it.

This time it’s different. This time she said there’s no going back. I didn’t say that. I have been the cause of every single patch as much as I remember but this time it wasn’t me and it’s not a patch. It’s more than that yet again it wasn’t me. Yes I agreed to go on a cruise because she went to the event but I wasn’t the one that violated something sacred. Now I’m fucked twice. I have to go on a trip I was avoiding and it’s over.

I’m going to give it until next week. If things remain the same I’ll know it’s really over. If that’s the case then everything is going to change. I’m going to have to accept it. The hardest part will be telling her no. It will be asking for my office key back. It will be not helping her with work. Not with her daughters. There is NOTHING that will ever stop me from helping with them. I love them like they were my own and I’ll always help her with anything for them regardless of what’s going on between us. Not that she cares. The oldest had an issue and even though I asked I got nothing. I guess the coparent has beyond stepped up.

I’m no fucking good. She said a bunch of things about me but the truth is summed up by that. I remember the day a mom came up to me and cried and begged for me to let her son out of the game. She told me I was the devil and cursed me. Even though I let him out I guess that curse stayed on me. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. This is my karma. All I did wrong has come back. The PD, the situation with her, work. Everything. That fake being in the sky couldn’t even give me something that would take me quick. What’s funny is when I would pray I’d ask if I was going to pay for my mistakes to make it quick. Guess other people’s prayers were stronger than mine.

Well tumblr world I’m signing off and signing out. The way I see it there’s a few ways this goes. I have a heart attack or my body says it’s enough and I pass out or I crash my work car or I don’t even know. Who gives a fuck anyways.

I’ll always love you my lobster.

You were and will always be my one and true zing.

[sparkbeast20]

A Hellhound's new purpose (MC and Cerberus)

This is part 3 of A human's best friend is a Hellhound Pt2

This take place at the end of the Angelic event. and Inspired by the Ao3 fanfic Angelic Desecration by Scarlet_Streak

Summary: Finally you and the three hounds made it to town, and ready to grab some food, and maybe do a little bit of sight seeing. However the seven lords are in town looking for a human and one big hellhound.

Warning: Swearing, Doubts, Mention of attempt Sexual assault, Self-hatred, and Cer, Bee, and Rus being the good doggos

All the brothers made it to the park, all to find that the place is lacking a giant hellhound and a human.

All turn to Satan, who narrows his brows at them, knowing fully well that they are silently judging him.

"They both have legs! obviously they'll wouldn't stay in one place for too long, now would they!" Satan made his defense before he walks over to his contact and start yelling at him for the late information.

Lucifer sighs and start walking around to see any evident that you two were here.

As Beel and Mammon follow behind him, leaving Asmo, Levi and Belphie standing.

"How could MC be this reckless to bring Cerberus out of the house!" Levi fiddling with the wire of his headset, as he said that.

"I'm more impress that they manage to move around with Cerberus without drawing attention" Asmo added.

"Maybe they don't want to get some attention, and trying their damndest not to be see by us" Belphie mutters it, and just looks down on the ground. He sounded hurt.

Asmo sense that Belphie knows something about the why you been acting. He was about to pry more information from Belphie, when suddenly he smell something in the air, a lingering scent of arousal.

Then suddenly they all hear someone screaming to be let go. All three look over to the left and see Beel holding a demon by the neap of their neck high enough that he's dangling off the ground.

"Beel, what are you-"

"They have MC scent on them!" All three brothers eyes widen, with Asmo sniff and realize that the scent of arousal is coming off from the demon.

Asmo quickly march over and grab the demon by the throat, as Beel let go. "Why the fuck you have my darlings scent and that you're horny as fuck!" He tighten his grip, causing the demon to choke.

"I-I thought that It would be easy to have my-my way with them since they are already have been with all of you-" they did even get to finish when Lucifer grab their hair and tear away from Asmo's grasp.

Then he turn the demon towards him as he looks at them right in the eye, with pure rage filled them with a cold and emotionless face.

"Tell us where is our beloved before I give you a quick death"

=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+

The sound of demons walking, chatting, muffle music from inside the store and cafes, and the lights shining the streets makes it feel like your back home in the human world.

You never realize that walking down the streets of devildom can be feel so nostalgic.

Maybe because no one is trying to kill or eat you.

You are finally free to look around and really take in the scenery of the streets and shops, while demons doesn't see you as a human.

Once you stop staring at the store, you draw you're attention back in front of you, see how the three pups are doing.

Cer is prancing on the right without a care in the world with his tongue sticking out. Then on the left Rus is alert with his low and looking around. And finally you saw Bee with his ears perk up walking straight with his chest puff up.

You feel like a celebrity with the three hounds as your bodyguards. It just warm your heart just see them so happy and still looking out for you. And a couple of times you saw both Cer and Rus perk and gesturing you to see what they see.

With Rus a couple of demons with their pets, while Cer is stores with moving displays and signs. One of which has Mammon in posting of a spring sale.

But to your surprise when you saw Bee glances over to a Welcome poster with Lucifer and Diavolo standing in the middle.

You could just walk down these streets and never get tired of just being with Cer, Bee, and Rus.

After a couple of streets, you four finally arrived at the devildom pet store. And stood in front of the entrance.

Then you crouch down, as they turn and look at you.

"Okay guys, I won't be long. I'll just buy accouple of treats and maybe a brush too. You three stay here and wait for me, okay." Bee nodded, while both Cer and Rus bark in responds.

You felt giddy, and couldn't help but to squishes their faces before patting them all on the head, then head inside the store.

Once inside, you immediately look around and see the dog food band that Lucifer always feed them.

Then you remember the time that you and Beel were asks to buy dog food, because he accidentally ate them, thinking that they were a new type of snack.

You quickly grab three bags of the dog food with two brushes and head straight to the counter, only to be greeted with a line.

This might take a while.

+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~

Meanwhile outside the store, Bee sat straight staring at the door. Waiting for you to come out. While Cer lay on his back trying to enjoy having his own body and Rus lay down, occasionally glancing over his brothers.

When suddenly Cer felt something, and quickly sat up as his ears perk up.

"BEE!!! Did you felt that!" Bee just sighs before turning his head towards his brothers.

"What~ needing to pee? Well that's good for us, It's finally good not to be drag by you're sorry head every ten mins" Rus said it sarcastically

"No Rus! Its the something else! like his here...."

"Yes Cer, I felt that. However, I choice to ignore it, and perhaps so should you. You might get your hopes up for nothing"

"Maybe it is him! and that his finally back!" Cer perk up and start to get excited.

It's amazing how these three have a telepathic link with one another, as if their talking, but without moving their mouths.

Then Rus growls and huffs.

"NO! that's the angel again! Haven't you learn by now to not just trust your instinct in the first senses! You did the same thing three days ago! And again with was the same creepy nice angel. FACE IT! His never coming back!" Rus snarl at Cer, who whimpers and back down.

"Th-Th-That's not true! He is here! and this time I know for sure!" But Rus barks at Cer. Then Bee barks at Rus.

"Enough! how many times we have to argue like this." He snarl and showing domains, making Cer and Rus to stand down. "And even if it was Master. Master's mate is in a dangerous place. As such, is our job to make to make sure Master's belonging are well guarded and that include his mate."

The two hounds nodded in agreement, as Bee compose himself, and look back at the door.

If anything we're to happen to you, Bee can't forgive himself. He doesn't want to disappoint his master, when ever he comes back from one of his trips. And he really doesn't want to get his brothers in trouble.

His alpha, as such he is responsible for you and his brothers.

He'll make his master proud, that he promise himself.

Minutes go by and Cer starts to feel jumpy. He couldn't shake the sense of his master. In each passing second he get more angsty. To the point he couldn't contain himself.

"Aaahh! I can't take it anymore! I can sense Master close by" Cer jump up from where his seating then begins run and following his senses. Leaving an anger Bee, and growling Rus.

"Fucking knew it! The second we are separated. Cer would've been the first one to run off! And if he comes back crying because he was wrong don't blame me for telling him 'I told you so!'" Rus calls it.

Bee groans, before standing up.

"Rus stay here, and make sure Master's mate is safe and guarded. I'll go and get Cer back here." Rus can only huffs and nodded, before Bee ran after Cer, leaving Rus alone.

+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~

You blink and look to the side, before looking back at Rus.

"Rus... where's Bee and Cer?" but Rus just barks, and you let out a sigh. "Well crap. I guess we have to wait for them, huh?" and he just gave you a nod.

You just glad that he knows that the other two will come back, however you can't just stand in front of the door to the pet store. You look around and saw a bench nearby, and tell Rus to follow you to the bench.

Your focus on the bench, you didn't see the demon walk. The two of you bump causing you to stumble back.

"Hey watch where you...." You trail off as your heart start ponding, and eyes widen but the demon in front of you.

"Oi watch it! yer lucky that I'm busy with somethin' else otherwise You'll be seeing stars!" Mammon towers over you, as he grants.

"I-I...." You couldn't even form words, as so many mix emotion comes to you.

Happy that you see him at his casual clothes, Sad that you been avoiding him and the brothers, Angry that he just threaten you.

You both miss him, and want to stay away from him.

"What should I do...." You hands being to tremble as your eyes are unfocused, with your breathing start to be uneven "Shit! I-I think I'm having a panic attack"

"Oi aren't ya gonna say sorry or what!" He step closer, getting into your personal space.

*BARK* *BARK*

Mammon stiffed and quickly look down to see Rus Barking at him with his back fur stood up, and showing his teeth at the demon of greed. Mammon quickly face him with his hands up in chest level.

"Oi, Oi, Oi! easy there Fido." Then he slowly back away.

"Hey Moron! what are you doing!" you jump at the sound of Levi's voice. You look over your shoulder to see him, rushing over, with Satan right behind him.

You can't handle this, or the brothers right now without breaking down.

Without wasting a single second, you turn heel and ran, with Rus right behind you.

You hear calling you to get back there and apologies, but you ignore it and ran to a corner, before manage to find an alleyway and quickly made a dash of it. And lean to the wall, as you try to control your breathing. Before sliding down and drop the bags of dog food and quickly grab your face as tears start falling.

You hate yourself! why would you run away from your lovers, are you really that selfish? They're clearly back to normal with no angel traits on them anymore.

So why hide from them?

Maybe you realize that you're being a horrible partner and not accepting all of them.

You hate the you can't be comfortable with them as Angels.

But at the same time how could you be comfortable with it, when the brothers are clearly under the curse.

But it's their angels selves! what they were in the past.

If that was truly what they were, and the curse just brought it back at the for front. Then why be uncomfortable with it?

All these mixed emotions makes you feel disgusted with yourself.

Rus never lost you as you two ran from the brothers, he slowly walk over to your side with his ears down and head lowered, then he slowly reaches forward and lick your arm.

You gasps for a moment, before throw your arms to the hound, wrapping him and pulling him closer to you, as you cry and wail in pain bury your face on the hounds neck.

"Rus *sob* am-am *sob* I a bad person.... *sob* why can't I just move pass this *sob*-" You hug the hound tighter as you sob "Their back to they're old selves *sob* but are these selves true? or just them being demons *sob* I don't what to do *sob*"

Rus can feel your distress, your confuse about your feelings.

He might not have the full picture, but that's not really important. All he needs to do is stay by your side, and comfort you.

He leans closer and nuzzle his face to your cheek, as small whimpers escapes from him. Which made you hug him tighter. Knowing that you aren't alone and that Rus is sobbing with you, made this a lot less scary.

"*sob* Thank you Rus *sob* Thank you *sob*"

=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+

"What was that? who was that demon?" Levi asks

"And why we're you scared by a regular dog?" Satan added.

"You crazy! regular or hellhound. No one likes being barked at!"

"Papa!"

"Eh?" all three startle by a familiar voice, but Mammon jumps by something the leaches on his leg.

"Father you're here too!" a second voice cause Levi to stiff, and look down to see Little D 3 waving at him.

"N-N-No. 3! Y-Y-You shouldn't go around saying that! What if people get the wrong idea! I don't think I can handle the drama or the gossip!"

Both No. 3 and 2 chuckles, with the latter hugging Mammon's legs.

"You're right! It is funny when we call them that! I can't wait to tell the rest of the little d's" No. 3 laughs with his tiny hands over his mouth.

Satan just sighs bringing his hand over his forehead, closes his eyes, "Look I appreciate a good teasing of my brothers"

"Hey!" which both say in unison

"But we done have time for this game of playing house. We're out here looking for MC and Cerberus-"

"Wait! you mean to tell us that you don't know that their here!" Satan eyes quickly open and looks down at No. 3

"Yes! We heard from a unreliable source that they might be here in town."

"Well their right! MC and Cerberus are here. In fact we helped them with Cerberus 'size' problem."

"Size problem?"

"Yeah! We taught MC a familiar spell, it was amazing! they turned Cerberus into three different dogs with even a different breed each!"

Satan eyes widen at the word dog.

"What are the breeds?"

"Hm? lets see..... Oh! a Pitbull, a Doberman, and a Rottweiler!"

At that moment Satan internally curse at himself, for not put two and two together.

The way he saw that other demon react towards Mammon and how they seem to be in shock in fear, when another demon would just start an argument with his brother. And the Rottweiler.

"MAMMON! That Demon was MC in disgust with one of Cerberus's heads!"

=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+

Cer maneuvered through the crowd of demons, with Bee not far behind him.

Suddenly Cer starts barking excitedly, causing Bee to look over his brother while still running.

Bee is shocked as everything around him slowed down. He couldn't believe it, Cer was right.

It's him!

Far in the distants, Bee and Cer sees Lucifer standing in his whole glory with a stir look on his face, with his arms cross over his chest.

Master..... Papa has return!

That was Bee was thinking as he and Cer rushes forward. He smile as the two start barking.

Lucifer seem to hear the barking, causing him and Beel to look over to side to see two dogs running towards them.

Before the two lords can react, the two hounds makes their way over and start circling Lucifer and Beel, while Cer jumping on Beel and yep happily with the sixth born before jumping off and continue to run around again.

Then Beel nose twitches and begins to sniff.

"Lucifer. I smell Cerberus on these two."

Lucifer took a small sniff and realize that Beel is right.

"Cerberus" the two dogs stop and looks at Lucifer. "Sit!" and immediately the two hounds sit.

Just the way he said it and how it demands to be listened and obeyed. They knew this is was him.

Finally their master is back, the master who they respect, who they both fear and love, the same demon who found and raised them.

And the demon they known to be their Papa.

Bee sat with his head and chest up high, giving the best form he can to Lucifer, and Cer sat with a big smile on his doggy face.

"Good. At least this time, you two are listening to me now." the two hounds bark in responds, which Lucifer smirks at. "Tell me.... is your brother with MC?" Bee was the one to bark in response.

"That's great Lucifer! At least MC is with one of them-"

"Yes, which made this job much more easier. Because once I find them, I'll make sure they'll never do something this stupid again." Both hounds and Beel's faces drops as Lucifer words.

"Look, I know that MC shouldn't have left the house with Cerberus alone. But maybe they have a reason to-" but Lucifer looks at Beel cutting him off he looks into Lucifer's piercing red eyes.

"Beelzebub, don't try to make some excuse for them. They've been acting like a child for the past week. They have no reason to act like this, let alone take my hound in place of our protection!" Lucifer is fuming sensing his master's anger, Cer hang his head low with his ears down and let out a whimper "Their sulking mood has to end now!" Then he turns his attention to the two hounds, with Cer stiffed up.

"You two! You three should've known better to entertain MC's dramatic cry for attention."

Bee doesn't understand what his master is talking about.

You cry for attention? That wasn't a cry for attention. Those tears you shed we're tears of sadness. You were all alone with angels.

Something in Bee ache, he was hurt by how his own master talked about you.

You just needed someone to be there for you, so that's why Bee and his brothers did what they did. Make you feel safe, that would've made his master proud.

So why is it that master think that what they did was bad?

Bee and Cer was taken aback by that as Lucifer continue his scolding "You should've stayed in the tombs. But instead you three just went along with my partner and when out of the house on your own! They don't need your comfort, when they have my brothers and I."

His brothers and him?!? Where we're they when left you alone with seven strangers! Where were they when Cerberus heard you crying one night! Where were he! when an angel enter the tomb and pretending to be him!

At that moment both Cer and Bee was angry. How could his master act like this, when clearly he and his brothers didn't see that you were alone.

Its clear what Cerberus true purpose is right now. And is to keep you safe.

From demons like before. Even his own Master.

In seconds both Cer and Bee starts to growl at Lucifer and Beel, with surprise the the two brothers

"Cerberus! Heel!" But his command was met with Cer barking angerly as the two took a offensive stance, with the upper part of their slightly lower while bearing their fangs at Lucifer and Beel.

Soon both Cer and Bee's eyes glows yellow as fire spit through mouth of their jaws.

Just like a flash of lightning, the two hounds lunges at the lords, fortunately they manage to duck out of them way.

Both Lucifer and Beel expect for the two hounds to attack. But they didn't. Instead they ran.

"Quick after them!" The two brothers give chase.

But their luck soon gets worst, when Asmo and Belphie turn the corner causing all four brothers to collide with each other. With Lucifer on the bottom under Beel, Belphie and Asmo.

Lucifer crawl out of the pile long enough to see his hounds slowly losing them, as they ran far to the point they no longer in Lucifer's sight.

At that moment, Cer and Bee goals right now is to get back to you and keep you away from the demons that hurt you.

Tagging: @ice-icebaby @hobin-gnoblin @sayumiht @ashielle @prefesro @the-devilskid @breezethroughthesummertrees @death-metal-lord @yukihaie @burninsno

Note:

Wait what! Cerberus has telepathy!?! But only with one other!

And they are as chaotic as the brothers! Hm? Could be maybe that the brothers influence him while has was a puppy?

If there's grammar or spelling error, please let me know.

Also Thank you with all the lovely reblogs/comments for this story. It really warms my heart that you guys enjoy this so far.

I love all the reaction you guys are writing.

Expect more Cerbie and MC bonding :3

[running-with-kn1ves]

So Keon made me feel things...like...😳👌

I'd love more of Keon if that's alright?

Maybe Keon getting into more fights to get the readers attention and the reader trying to calm him down/ tame him?

 I wrote him on a whim and I love him!!! So glad that he was enjoyed~~

I feel bad bc I can't seem to write anything super original/long right now, but I'm very happy that yall have interesting ideas!! I'm gonna def try to finish them now that labor day gives me some time :D

The OG for Keon can be found here for new readers!

TW: Blood/death mentioned, Knives, obsessive/yandere/clingy behaviors

“Get off of me!” You screamed, pushing his head away but he wouldn’t budge. He dug his face into your shins, gripping your legs with all the might he could.

You knew things had gone sideways with Keon and his obsessive behavior but this was a whole new level. Scared, hot tears ran down your face. You couldn’t even bare to look in front of you; the blood on the concrete was too much. Beating against his skull with your fists did nothing, no matter how hard you pounded.

Keon stayed latched on. Frantically you whipped your head around, shaking as you tried to stand up only to fall again.

The boy stuck to your lower limbs was sobbing, wet tears and blood soaking your pants.

“Please,” He hiccupped. “Please don’t run. Please please please.”

His fingers dug into your skin, trying to bare their way inside you. Keon’s face was smushed against your knees, his head shaking.

You weren’t supposed to see it. You never went this way when going home, but you missed the last bus stop and had to walk. You don’t go down alleys. They’re dangerous and uncomfortable. But Keon’s poorly dyed and fading red hair stood out to you; his dark attire blended in with the alleyway. You didn’t understand what he was doing here, following you.

You would have never known he was behind you until you heard the scuffle break out; shuffled footsteps and a thump attracted your mind to turn around, and look at what had happened.

Feet were dragged behind a wall. Blood was left. Before it registered in your mind to run, contact the police, or do anything rational-- you walked up to the alleyway.

Maybe it was a drunk. Maybe it was a homeless man who had fallen asleep. It could even have just been a cat, messing around in the garbage cans. All rational explanations that you had assumed before looking at the real scene.

He was turned around, busy thrusting the butterfly knife into a man's chest, over, and over. Keon didn’t even know you were there.

he wouldn’t have pulled you into this alleyway along with the desecrated corpse if you had just kept your mouth shut. If you just hadn’t screamed.

But you did, and now you were here, desperately trying to claw his hand away from your mouth, and your neck away from the knife.

“I’m asking you, I’m begging you please my love, light of my life stay quiet.”

You screamed against his palm, wishing he was back to clinging against your feet instead of on top of you, with a knife lingering threateningly over your jugular.

He shushed you sweetly and quietly, brushing a piece of hair out of your face as you couldn’t help but cry. He was sniffling, getting over the initial shock of having you witness his crimes.

“No more yelling okay? I’ll let you go if you don’t scream.”

Hesitantly, Keon removed his hand from your mouth. Your face felt humid and your body shaky. Not knowing whether to throw him off or stay put, you quietly whimpered, deciding to beg for your life.

“Please, please Keon what’s going on--”

He shushed you again, bringing a finger to your lips.

“Be quiet now,” You could tell Keon was nervous, his hand shaking against your throat and his pierced eyebrows furrowing. “I, I didn’t do it to hurt you! I.. he was following you and…”

Keon ran his free hand through his hair, the curls bouncing back. “I was going to talk to you and then that guy came outta nowhere! I swear!”

The boy looked worried, lifting his hands away from you in surrender. He looked like he was about to cry again, or throw himself on top of you.

“Keon.. what did you do to him?” You croaked, the tears beginning to come back as you looked at the limp, older man who laid on the shadowed concrete.

You recognized him as a man who left the school building at the same time you did. You made small talk, gathered your things and made your way outside. He didn’t strike you as important, but this was an odd coincidence. You didn’t even realize he was behind you before Keon took him out.

“Listen I didn’t do it on purpose I promise I.. he was going to touch you… He was following you for the past 3 blocks and tried to grab you from behind I.. I wouldn’t have done anything if he just didn’t touch you!”

Looking up, you only now managed to see how deranged Keon looked. His hands were covered in drying blood, eyes bloodshot with tears wetting his face. His voice quavered as he looked to see if you believed him.

You began to cry again, feeling the weight of the situation grow too much. You sobbed nonsense, unable to form a coherent sentence.

“Oh please don’t cry! You love me, I did this for us, don’t cry!”

Keon threw down the knife and moved you away from the body. Gathering you in his arms he rocked you both back and forth, repeating consoling words.

“It’s alright, It’ll all be okay! I saved you, you were almost attacked. But it’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”

You wanted to break out of his arms and run as far as you could, but alas all you could do was sob. His words were soft but you didn’t know if they were for you or him. It was unclear to you whether this was right or wrong; your inability to completely trust what Keon said made your stomach tie in a knot. Was that man really following you, or did Keon do this out of some other reason?

Oh boy, what have you gotten yourself into.

[kiki-shortsnout]

For intimacy prompts: #36 being pushed against a wall for Frostironstrange! 💚❤️💙

I might have cheated a little and made it a door....

***

Jealousy wasn’t an emotion Stephen had much experience with. He’d been top of his field when he’d been a doctor, a pioneer, a trailblazer, he was the one people regarded with envy. Even in his romantic life, jealousy wasn’t an emotion he’d fallen victim to, never having formed a lasting attachment to another person.

He knew the root of the emotion stemmed from a feeling of insecurity, that the best thing he could do was turn his gaze inward and think about his own personal growth, to address his feelings of low self-esteem.

This…didn’t feel like feelings of low self-esteem. It felt like a coiled ball of barbed wire and razor blades sitting in his stomach, strangling the life out of him every time he saw them together.

The words on the page wavered as his eyes went unfocused, his ears straining to hear sounds of them whispering, torturing himself further by hearing fragments of their conversation, his mind filling in the blanks.

Why couldn’t it have been me?

Stephen had fallen in love with Tony first. He’d agonized over that, spent countless nights thinking about the reason why, if the rationale behind his jealousy was born from some adolescent feeling such as, I saw him first so therefore he’s mine, but that wasn’t it.

A bond had formed between them when fighting Thanos, a trust that Stephen seldom found in others. He knew Tony, probably better than anyone else in the world after his little exploration of millions of possible outcomes, but that wasn’t what made him fall in love.

It was the man’s determination, his courage, his sarcasm, all wrapped up in an appealing aesthetic package that was Tony Stark. He had been willing to sacrifice himself for the world, just as Stephen had sacrificed countless lives in the Dark Dimension, and at that moment against Thanos, Stephen knew he’d found someone in this huge, boundless universe who could understand him.

He looked up at that moment, staring at Tony across the gloomy Sanctum library. His legs were folded beneath him on the armchair, his elbow on the desk as he rested his head on it, idly swiping through his Starkpad as he worked.

Stephen hadn’t been able to let him die, had used every possible resource he possessed and those around him to save his life. He hadn’t even known Tony that long, but he had still sobbed alongside Rhodey and Pepper as Tony finally inhaled a lungful of battle charred air after excruciating seconds of being dead.

Sensing Stephen’s stare, Tony glanced up, giving him a gorgeous smile, the type that sent euphoric sensations squirming through his stomach. Ignoring Tony’s mouthed question asking him if he was okay, Stephen turned back to his book.

He’d never understood what it meant to love someone until the moment he’d lost Tony. Despite already witnessing millions of potential lifetimes, ignoring millions more, Stephen still wanted to remain by Tony’s side, as a friend, a lover, whatever capacity he was allowed as long as he could be part of the man’s life.

‘What’s got your attention, Anthony? I’m over here.’

Then Loki had happened.

The trickster had faked his death at Thanos’s hand. Not for his own personal gain this time, it was the only way he could save Thor and Bruce, ensure that Thanos would leave whatever Asgardians he hadn’t slaughtered alone. Stephen had doubted Loki’s intentions were as honorable as that, believe a large part of his actions were to save his own hide, but he wasn’t made of stone, despite how he was perceived, and Thor begging him to help find his brother hadn’t fallen on deaf ears.

It was Tony asking him to help bring Loki home, to give him the second chance they’d all had at some point in their lives, that swayed Stephen into action. The man didn’t even know about his repressed feelings, and even then, he was powerless to Tony’s wishes.

‘Lokes, I can barely concentrate as it is when you’re near me,’ Tony flirted.

He ripped the corner of the page from the tightness of his grip.

Stephen couldn’t actually put a finger on the exact moment where his feelings for the God of Mischief had changed from irritation to begrudging respect.

And then into complex complicated feelings of their own.

But he’d known when Loki’s and Tony’s relationship had changed, had seen the way both of them looked at the other, the swollen lips after they returned from meetings.

‘Stephen? Everything alright?’ Tony asked, destroying the painful recollections, making him look up at them both. They were trying to hide their relationship from him, and he wasn’t sure why.

I’m not important enough to know.

‘Yup,’ Stephen snapped, slamming his book shut and throwing it onto the desk between them.

‘Usually, you only look like that after I have spoken to you,’ Loki teased, placing both hands flat on the desk and leaning forward, goading him. That was their relationship, provoking each other, encouraging character growth through spite and teasing.

Today it felt like salt was scouring the wounds on Stephen’s soul.

He needed to control these feelings, these emotions. He’d already convinced himself that he was content with being Tony’s friend, that whatever stirrings of interest he had towards Loki had to be his libido talking. Tony Stark deserved whatever happiness he could find, and Stephen was the biggest advocate for it.

‘No, you’re not, honey.’

Stephen flinched in his chair as he looked up, Tony directly in front of him, his hand reaching out. The way his eyes had become soft and tender with worry for him made Stephen want to weep, to launch himself forward into his arms and speak his deepest desires.

They already have each other. There isn’t room for you.

He batted Tony’s hand away, ignoring the way the man flinched even as a wash of shamed nausea crept over him.

What are you expecting, Strange? That they’ll include you? That Tony will leave Loki for you? Normal people don’t have two partners.

‘Hey, it’s okay…I didn’t mean to scare you, we can leave if you’ve got things on your mind,’ Tony reassured, taking a step back.

‘Nothing’s on my mind,’ Stephen answered straight away, his voice coming out too loud and panicked. He saw Loki’s eyebrow raise in question, the Asgardian looking between them both, analyzing.

Shit.

‘Stephen, something’s obviously wrong, and I don’t think it’s because you don’t understand…’ Tony paused, tilting his head so he could try and read the title of Stephen’s book. ‘Yeah…I don’t know what you’re reading. Look, if it’s something I did don’t be shy,’ Tony told him with a playful grin, but Stephen knew what was behind it, the insecurity he hid behind those smiles.

‘No! It’s nothing you’ve done,’ Stephen lurched forward to grasp Tony’s elbows before remembering who else was with them. Immediately he let go, shoving his chair back with the force he used to escape. Cursing his treacherous body, his gaze went to Loki who was watching the whole thing unfold with shrewd eyes.

‘Come on, asshole, what is it? I’m not a mind reader you know.’

‘No, but I am. I have a glorious feeling this is going to be fascinating,’ Loki’s silky voice wrapped around them both, his fingers lit up with his magic.

He can’t find out.

‘Leave me alone…’ he spat, his hands readying themselves to create a portal as he leapt to his feet. ‘You can’t be serious?’

‘Deadly,’ Loki growled, extending his fingers with a snap, his emerald magic twisting forward and nullifying the portal Stephen had been trying to create.

I need to get out of here.

‘What? What’s going on? Loki, stop it don’t-’ Tony yelped as Stephen launched himself into a run, barreling him over in his haste to escape. Loki gave chase, both of them scrabbling against the wooden floor as they sprinted to the door.

Tony can’t know. Neither of them can know.

Stephen ignored Tony’s frantic shouts for them to stop, the burn in his lungs as he ran, the pain in his shoulders as he collided with the bookcases. Books rained down on him, the library around him fading to one, singular point.

Get to the door!

He could hear Loki hot on his heels, felt the tendrils of his magic trying to ensnare him, his snarls of frustration as Stephen ducked and weaved around the bookcases, no finesse to his movements, just a dogged determination to escape the situation.

Crying out in relief when he made it to the door first, he skidded to a halt when the Cloak billowed up, blocking the way, trapping Stephen inside.

‘They can’t find out! Move!’ Stephen hissed at the Cloak.

The Cloak shook its collar, spreading itself out so it appeared huge.

‘Please!’ Stephen pleaded, his voice cracking. ‘I’ll lose them both otherwise!’

‘What the hell is going on? Are we under attack?’ Feet pounded on the floor behind him, the sounds of his suit forming was audible even over Stephen’s pounding heart.

Think. Think!

Reaching forward to rip aside the Cloak, Stephen found himself slammed against the back of the door, a lithe muscled body pressed against him, and a hot mouth sealed over his. Despite wanting to moan into it, the electric current of unbridled lust surging inside of him, he didn’t stop fighting to escape.

He didn’t want to hurt Tony with his lustful feelings and burgeoning affection for his lover, didn’t want to damage their friendship. Then there was Loki, whose tales of cruelty had reached them all. Who knew what he would do to Stephen for coveting his lover? He would desecrate the feelings he held dear, spinning this into a story that they shared with other while in bed, their mocking laughter surrounding them.

‘Desist your struggles, Strange,’ Loki whispered when he stopped, leaving another scorching kiss on his lips as he held him still. ‘Your feelings are making you foolish. You know I cannot read minds, yet you crumbled under your fear and left your true self bare.’

Stephen strained against the hold, his head banging back against the heavy door, nails gripping the wood. Loki didn’t budge, his strength far exceeding Stephen’s, but he moved his hands to his forearms, allowing the blood to flow back into his damaged hands with a pained hiss.

‘Sorry,’ Loki murmured. ‘It is not my intent to-’

‘You already knew I had feelings for him,’ Stephen hissed, looking over Loki’s shoulder, trying to understand what the expression on Tony’s face was, memorizing the detail of him before he’d be no longer allowed to look.

I never wanted this to happen.

‘Yes, but I did not know of your attraction to me. Which makes this conversation so much simpler,’ Loki answered.

‘What conversation?’

‘You are not alone in your feelings, darling,’ Loki called over his shoulder, his sharp green gaze never leaving Stephen’s.

He slumped in Loki’s hold, hanging his head as shame burned his cheeks.

‘You’re not listening to my words, Stephen.’ Loki brought his head down to whisper in his ear, adjusting his grip so Stephen could rest against him, holding him instead of restraining him. Even with all of the panic making him light-headed, his chest flayed open for all to see, Stephen still took the time to breathe in Loki’s scent, the unique alienness of it.

‘Stephen? Is Loki right? Do you…have feelings for me?’ Tony asked, his voice wavering in bewilderment.

Rubbing his head against Loki’s shoulder for a moment, Stephen took a huge, quivering breath before he drew back, trying to find his courage.

‘No, Loki’s voice rumbled through his chest, oscillating through to Stephen’s skin. ‘It isn’t just lust you have for me. You hold feelings for us both.’

‘Stephen?’

‘Yes. God, I’m sorry, I fell for you, months ago, Tony,’ Stephen sighed, not looking at him, staring at the glossy black hair brushing against Loki’s collarbone. ‘I knew you were together, thought I could be happy…No, I wanted to be happy for you-’

Stephen stumbled as Loki vanished from before him, flailing until he was caught by Tony’s smaller frame. He only had a second to figure out what had happened before he was being kissed again, a sharp whipcrack of shock drowning out any thoughts.

He retained enough sense to break apart, his gaze seeking out Loki, fearful of retribution. Loki’s façade cracked at his stare, relaxing into an expression he’d often seen him look at Tony with.

‘You were blinded by what you did not have, saw only what you wanted to see. You never realized that Anthony was watching you too, snatching gazes of you when you were preoccupied with your melancholy.’

Stephen looked down at Tony in his arms, his brown eyes blazing in that look of determination he’d fallen for.

‘Stephen, I…you too? I never thought…you never gave any indication of-’

Stephen silenced the words with a kiss, reaching up to cup Tony’s face with his hand, expressing everything he could through his actions, his longing, his repressed desire, his love. Their tears mingled together, seeping down to their lips, binding their kiss with suffering sweetness.

‘Idiots, the both of you,’ Loki said, wrapping his arms around them. ‘I know this type of relationship might not be considered… acceptable on Midgard, but I believe now that I know of your feelings, it would be wise to explore the possibilities.’

‘This, this isn’t normal though,’ Stephen mumbled against Tony’s lips, lifting his free hand so he could grip hold of Loki.

‘Who cares about normal? I’m Tony Stark, I do what I want,’ Tony asserted, kissing him soundly on the lips, before turning and kissing Loki’s jaw.

‘Ineloquent as always, but I believe this time the sentiment comes across nicely,’ Loki said, eyes closing as he accepted Tony’s bestowed kiss.

‘You both? How long?’

‘Since Thanos-’

‘Since you found me-’

They answered together. It was Loki who blushed though, uncertain how his own declaration would be taken.

‘I’ve known Tony longer, understood and accepted my feelings for him before I found you, but that doesn’t mean what I’m feeling towards you isn’t real, Loki,’ Stephen assured, his confidence growing, the earlier panic and fear dispelled by their touch.

Loki swallowed and nodded once, his grip tightening before he took a step back, gesturing at the Cloak to move aside.

‘I realize we’ve forced this confession from you, and if you would rather take some time to-’

‘Do you want to go on a date?’ Tony interrupted.

‘A date?’ Loki deadpanned.

‘A date? Like drinks? Food? Music? Somewhere we can get to…well not know each other better, but talk. About what this means for us?’ Tony encouraged, his gaze darting between them both.

‘Anthony. I do not think-’

‘A date sounds great,’ Stephen interrupted him this time, pressing his lips together to hide his amusement at Loki’s confusion, reaching down to take both their hands in his.

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

Hi hi! I saw your post asking for request/inspiration! Maybe Geralt x fem reader, and geralt has to hunt down a monster but the reader as well, so first they try to outsmart the other but eventually they realize they have to work together and they end up falling for each other? ❤️❤️

Bound By Blood - Geralt of Rivia x (f)reader - Part 1

side note- I have no self control and just kept writing so we’re gonna have a pt. 2 soon

Summary: Geralt has learned of a mysterious witch and her supposed vicious familiar, now he must hunt to bring them down for their crimes.

Warning: blood & gore, angst, bit o fluff, some smut sprinkled in the mix

It had been a good couple of weeks since his last kill, or since he had a solid amount of coin that could pay for food and board. So like any Witcher with a freshly sharpened sword and a thirst for coin with a little adventure included, Geralt was on the move, in search of his next monster to slay.

Though by the looks of it, the continent is starting to feel like a much larger place then he remembered, or perhaps he’s out in the wilds a bit further then once previously thought. Either way, the day is bright and the woods are green, although the occasional snowflake floating into his hair and Roach’s for that matter may become an annoyance later on. Guess he’ll just have to see where the road takes him this time.

No sooner would his swimming thoughts of wondrous curiosity be answered after a couple hours of traveling through the now very snow covered forest, where he would happen upon a small gathering of road worn travelers. All of whom appeared to be speaking over a small fire, their horses tied off close by. And most likely, weapons hidden at the ready for odd folk like himself.

Roach’s hooves are almost silent against the powdery white fluff as Geralt makes his way into view of this pack of loyal companions trying to have a meal in the midst of their camp before nightfall. Soon their eyes find Roach and himself, these strangers look on in cautious apprehension, wary and uncertain of what this Witcher’s true intentions are.

Suddenly a young foxy looking boy stands, his thick auburn hair falling in his face as he points a shaky steel knife in the air, “What business you have? We don’t want a fight.” Speaks the boy as confidently as he can muster, though there is a small waver in his voice. The others wait for an answer.

Geralt blinks, face unassuming and as relatively non-threatening as possible, “I’m just passing through, I’m trying to see what beast needs killed over the next hill.”

The boy lowers his knife, “Oh...well, good luck to you then. There’s been a great bear said to be hunting for Nilfgaard soldiers over that way, that’s why we’re headed west instead.”

Before Geralt is able to respond an older woman with a wolf rug over her back steps next to the boy protectively, “Best keep a move on Witcher,” She warns, eyeing him up suspiciously with her pale grey eyes, “said a woman with...unnatural powers commands the beast to kill for her. A witch of the wood it’s said, but that old bastard she has, been killing villagers and travelers alike who venture too far from town.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Mutters Geralt before directing Roach to continue onward with a click of his tongue.

——

They had never seen you coming, and now they’re paying for their lack of scouting with their pathetic little lives. The soldiers of Nilfgaard were said to be the most deadly and dangerous, men who came with fire in their hearts and steel in their hands. They feared nothing and no one, dressed in black armor and growing in numbers from the south everyday was enough to make you feel sick.

They had no right nor proper business claiming and desecrating what wasn’t there’s, how dare they hurt innocent people, they acted like true barbarians. And you would not put up with it any longer, they had burned your home, murdered your mother, and destroyed the rest of your village.

So for their crimes, you decided it was time to do what was necessary for the continents future survival, it was time to hunt. For months have you and your furry companion been here and there eradicating soldier camp after soldier camp with great satisfaction, now finally at long last have you tracked down a group of Nilfgaardians who’ve strayed too far from the main hoard. How unfortunate.

You had waited patiently to ambush them on the main road where they’d been trekking down for the past day and a half, it was too damn easy, all you did was pretend to be a hurt scared maiden in the woods. Then when they attempted to comfort you, your bear burst forth from the underbrush and slaughtered a handful before they even knew what hit them.

Now here you stand, boots in the spattered snow as you look around the blood stained white blanket of earth where a multitude of soldiers lay dead and mutilated. Though one remains with air still in his lungs, you smirk a wicked grin, eyeing up the fallen soldier as he stares wide eyed up at you from his broken body against a tree stump.

Your furry accomplice breaths heavy mountainous breaths close by, though he’s aware enough to know you’ll take care of the last one. And the terrified soldier knows it too as you take more steps closer. He flinches as you crouch down to meet his blood spattered face, “Nu-no, no...do-don’t...”

“Shhh.” You smile, raising a finger to his lips, silencing him instantly.

 He’s shaking now, eyes like a young fearful child’s as he studies your beautiful yet frightening appearance. “I thought all Nilfgaardian soldiers feared nothing, not even death. What a disappointment you all are.”

“We will...ta-take it....a-all...” He whimpers out as you throw him a harsh glare that shuts his bloody mouth.

“Just like I have taken your brothers lives,” You whisper with a sly grin before casually shrugging, “an eye for an eye they say....so don’t be afraid, I have felt the same as you do right now. Helpless, terrified, in pain....but listen...” You look sincerely into his broken gaze, a small smile upon your lips as you rest a comforting hand over his arm, though he knows its anything but comfort. “Nilfgaard and all her subjects can burn in the fiery pits of the underworld for what they’ve chosen to do in these lands. I was on the wrong side of the sword once, now you are, and no magical bear is going to come save you.” Your words are as deadly as poison, like a cobra spitting venom to their prey before the final strike.

His eyes go wide, blood seeping down his cracked lips, “No. No..n-no no! No!” Suddenly you thrust your dagger right through his jugular and right back out again causing a spurt of blood to mark your cheek, standing back you watch as he gasps and sputters, choking on his own blood as it gushes out of him like a waterfall.

“He even dies like a bitch.” You mutter in disgust, cleaning off your sword with your arm before sheathing it once again, now looking over to the beast standing in the snow. Heavy white clouds of hot breath pierce the crisp air as he watches your every move in interest, “Come. Let’s get away from here before someone sees us, we don’t need anymore bloodshed today. Now these fuckers are food for crows.”

The bear growls in agreeance, trailing after you as some hungry black ravens caw from the trees in excitement for their new free meal. No village will burn today.

——

“Oh yes, I saw her command the bear to kill those soldiers just three days ago!”

“That beast took my son last week, kill them Witcher!”

“I’m afraid to visit my cousins in the next town over! You must kill them!”

That had been the comments and ramblings of the townsfolk of the local tavern when he asked who and where this witch and her bear was. Though he didn’t get much of a solid answer by any means, not until an old hunter had eventually directed him to where the most recent cluster of Nilfgaard soldiers had headed.

Stating that if Geralt follows their route, then he would most likely come upon the men’s remains somewhere along the road, and if he was lucky, he’d run into the two killers as well.

Indeed it had taken him about a day or so, but eventually the farther down the trail he got, the fresher the tracks became. Suddenly during his journey did he pass a rider-less horse on its way back towards town, a dark brown smear of some kind splattered across its grey leg. Now this looked quite promising.

Only a small trot up the road did he finally find the brutal remains of the soldiers that had most definitely not made it to wherever they had planned on heading. The snow in particular was disturbed and littered with chunks of men, swords thrown about and shields bent and broken. He could smell blood and piss from the men, most of all he could smell bear and what it had done here, though it was strange too. For a sweeter scent could be recognized on the cool wintery breeze, such a viable contrast to the current state of the environment. 

She still lingers close, thinks the Witcher. Quickly moving to pull out his silver sword from within its sheath. Sensing a new presence among the fallen, he whips around in a dark blur only to be greeted face to face with a beautiful woman.

He stood his ground eyeing your form suspiciously like a lion wondering if his prey will be easy enough to kill, though he wasn’t certain if he truly wanted to kill you at all. You looked rather unassuming and calm, less monsterly and more a simple traveling woman then anything else, such unlike the grisly tall tales that those travelers and townsfolk had gossiped to him about.

Honestly Geralt was beginning to doubt what he had been given coin for, but he would not submit to that thought just yet, he has faced creatures just as alluring as you and found them quite deadly enough.

Keeping his silver placed firmly at his side, though still tightly grasped in his strong hand, his golden eyes trail over you cautiously, “You do this?” He wonders, coming out more of an accusatory statement as he glances at the bloody array of dead Nilfgaardian soldiers gutted about on the soft white snow.

Your breaths are steady though you feel more annoyed by his random intrusion then anything else, you only came back here to take their weapons to give to the villagers, “I have no quarrel with you, Witcher.” Your voice is truthful and fierce, not an ounce of nervousness radiating off of your tongue. As far as you’re concerned this man is nothing but an inconvenience.

He keeps a stoic face, not revealing much but a tinge of amusement in his shimmering eyes, “Strange then. I’ve been given coin to kill a dangerous sorceress and her enchanted bear. Fitting your description exactly, and here we are. Among the dead soldiers you’ve been claimed to murder.”

Scoffing you curtly fold your arms over your chest, “I hardly see a problem here when these fuckers have slaughtered countless innocents! They’re marching for the north and I do not doubt they’ll get it if people like me don’t try and lessen their numbers.”

He looks to the ground then back up to you, letting out a low frustrated sigh, “Your beast has killed villagers. Innocents.” His words are almost a slap in the face, but you know those people only got in the way of taking down these soldiers.

“Yes.” You nod, watching as he studies your face, “And it is a tragedy that I am greatly sorry for...but my companion is still an animal with his own will even when I give him a task. A bear is a bear, Witcher.”

He hums, “I understand that. But I cannot let you kill anyone else.”

Taking a single step back you quickly unfold your arms, alerting the Witcher to raise his sword though you show no intention of fighting him. His grey brows furrow as you shake your head, “You’re better off leaving us be. Those soldiers deserved what they got coming to them, and the people of this continent will thank us in due time. For they do not know the wrath and ruin that Nilfgaard is capable of.”

He watches as you take a couple more steps backwards towards the pine trees, your face serious and unflinching even when he takes a few steps towards you. “I kill monsters, witch. You’re no different.”

Now this does anger you, for that your eyes almost appear to darken with rage, your posture taller as you stare him down, “You are nothing but a blind fool who cannot see the bigger picture! So I won’t feel very bad about this..”

“About what?”

He watches as you take a step to the side, ignoring him when suddenly without warning does a ginormous brown bear charge from out of the evergreens, teeth and claws at the ready as they swing for his throat.

Geralt just barely dodges the huge furry bastard when a blundering paw races down for his arm, he twists away and out of the bears reach though his sword does catch the thick black pad of the bears left paw. It roars in pain, face a mask of rage as it turns towards Geralt with lighting reflexes.

Suddenly the bear swings a heavy paw directly into Geralt’s leather armored chest, knocking the wind out of him while also managing to thrust him blindly into a thick oak tree. All that the Witcher can glimpse before slipping into blissful unconsciousness is the wounded beast retreating into the woods while your silhouetted form begins walking towards him.

Then darkness.

——

When Geralt comes to he’s distressed to find his armor gone and his torso bare except for a thick white bandage wrapped around his shoulder and chest where the bear swatted at him with its large paw. The fabric is oddly soft, though a slight pink uneven line has seeped out now visible across his breasts, no doubt the area where that bear had gotten him. 

His big golden irises blink hard, focusing better now to unexpectedly find your smirking face as you walk into view, “Have a pleasant rest?” You muse, sitting down in a soft cushioned chair at his bedside, “My old friend gave you a run for your coin huh?”

Well this is odd, he thinks.

His brows furrow even deeper, though his chest hurts too much to attempt an escape, “I would have imagined you were going to kill me. I don’t understand...”

Chuckling lightly you smile, “Remember Witcher, I have no quarrel with you. Just those fucking soldiers....and don’t worry, my companion will not bring you any more harm unless I see to it.”

“Well...uh...I guess that’s good then.” Mutters the Witcher, begrudgingly scooting himself up so that he may rest against the wooden headboard and have a better view of the small room, “Where exactly are we?”

Looking around the cozy cabin you’ve decided to inhabit for the time being, your eyes finally rest back on the curious silver haired man, “Somewhere that was once vacant and now is livable. That is all I will say, and all that matters to you now....so, my pursuer who’d see me dead if not for my cleverness. If you are going to be in my care for however long it takes you to heal, what is your name?” You watch as the Witcher purses his lips together, pausing for a moment to think if he should tell you, “Geralt. Geralt of Rivia.” He reveals in that titular gruff voice of his that’s honestly starting to grow on you even in the brief time you’ve known him.

Handing him a small smile of acknowledgement, you nod, “And I am Y/N of Stygga in the land of Ebbing which is north of Nilfgaard...so, Geralt of Rivia....what brings you to Thurn of all places and into my care? Besides the fact that my companion almost ended your pretty life.” You end with a wiggle of your brow.

“Coin.” He mutters humorously, so he is not just a man of silent beautifully chiseled stone after all.

You hum, “Simple and straight to the point, are all Witcher’s as intriguing as you are?”

Geralt blinks slowly, deciding to rest his head against the wood as he looks forward, “Perhaps only the ones who want to survive.”

Laughing you lean back in your seat, “Flattery and humor may yet keep you alive then. But you are mistaken with me, I do not intend to keep you as a prisoner in any way if that’s what you are meaning. You are free to go back to wherever you came from or to wherever you’re going....as I said, I have no quarrel with you. Witcher.” You speak his name with a bit of attitude considering he did originally come to kill you, nonetheless you quite enjoy his presence.

The look he gives you is enough to make you chuckle once more, then his eyes glance back to you, causing your laughter to die down, though he’s surprised that your smile has prevailed. “Then why have you kept me alive when you could have ended me just as quickly?” He wonders.

You shrug, “The world is scarce of such creatures like yourself, Witcher’s hmm...monster hunters. Others will need you, and this world is big after all and full of terrible things.” You add, hugging your cloak tighter as you tilt your head at him, “so I’d assume after you heal up you’ll leave me and my companion be as long as I agree to keep away from towns. Yes.”

“Hmm.” He utters, brows furrowed as he thinks over your offer. 

The Witcher keeps silent as his face shifts into deep thought, huffing you roll your eyes, “Geralt are free to leave if you so choose. I give you my word if you give me yours.”

“Which is?”

“You let me and my familiar leave in peace and we let you live.”

He studies your face for a moment, trying to find any signs of falseness though he fails to spot it, “Fine.” Grumbles the handsome silver haired man.

You smile in accomplishment before a slightly awkward silence fills the room, deciding to break the tension you tap the arm of your chair, “Are you going to leave then? Right now?”

He keeps silent for some time as you patiently await his answer until finally he looks into your eyes, “No.”

“Huh.” You slowly nod, not quite expecting that answer, “...are you thirsty then? You were out for some time.”

“Yes.” Answers Geralt, simple and straight to the point.

Smiling you nod, standing now to fetch your new friend some water from outside, once you return with a metal cup do you hand him the cold liquid, his warm hand just barley touching yours. Sending shivers down your spine that you didn’t know was possible as you go back to sit next to him. “Those wounds should heal soon enough, I’ve heard Witcher’s heal fast. Is there any truth to that?”

His golden eyes trail over to you, not a hint of annoyance in the way that he looks to you now, “It would seem so. Hopefully I never have another run in with your friend anytime soon. Though I wouldn’t mind running into you again, hopefully under less bloody circumstances.” Admits Geralt with the ghost of a smile.

You chuckle, “As would I.”

——

In the following days would you and Geralt find comfort in one another’s presence as you helped him heal from his wounds. This Witcher had told you numerous stories about his adventures all over the continent and what beasts have been slain by his hand and sharp silver.

They were undoubtedly fascinating though surprisingly full of such vigor and even respect for the ones he’s been given coin to kill. It was pleasant when he spoke of all those who he had prevented from meeting an untimely and violent end from said monsters.

Even more so bewildering to you was how invested and intrigued you had become with each passing day, you actually woke up excited to see someone, to hear their voice and have them ask how your morning was.

Unbeknownst to you, Geralt had healed two days ago but had come to the fascinating conclusion that he was in-fact enjoying your company more then first realized. He loves listening to you boast about all the clever tricks you’ve pulled on the Nilfgaardians and how you’ve kept them away from the villagers who would most like want nothing to do with them.

Maybe it is the palpable truth that he has been indeed a bit lonely, or maybe it’s just that you tell the best stories and are unlike anyone he’s ever met before. But Geralt has begun to grow a deep fondness for you that cannot be fully explained by himself no matter how hard he may try.

Though at first he found you beautiful enough, that wasn’t a large concern considering he was there to kill you. Then once all was revealed he decided you really aren’t as evil and malevolent as what was spoken to him by the townsfolk.

Now, he has seen you, heard your voice and been given a kindness that he knows is something he shouldn’t deserve. But he cannot fully know if you share the same growing feelings, why would you? He came to kill, he came to end your beautiful life and for what, gold? No, you mean something now, you are someone to him now, a person that he can’t help but care for. And maybe even love, that is if he knew what that truly felt like, is this it?

But what of you?

You’d be a filthy liar if you said this Witcher didn’t tug at your heart strings like he does so freely without even knowing it. He has wonderfully taken you off guard with his hidden tenderness and rough voice that you’ve decided is one of the most alluring sounds you’ve ever heard.

His eyes catch in the light like two shimmering golden coins, the way he asks you for a drink or a piece of bread sends electricity through you. How pathetic, you think, however it is rather nice. And most of all, his body is truly something else, you’ve never seen a man so toned and full of scars. How lucky you were to take his shirt off and keep his wounds from bleeding out, and in those hours after, he looked rather peaceful as he slept.

If only you could have joined him, felt his touch, been the one who he wanted more then the bread you’ve given him. But he is just a Witcher, he will leave and life will presume as it had been before either of you had met. He’ll become just another lost tragedy of your past, another loved one gone, never to be seen again.

He is just a Witcher you fool.

You frown now, your gaze focused on the small hearth as you sit by the fire, poking it with a metal stick as your thoughts drift to better days long gone, taken so suddenly and without so much as a sorry from who did it.

“Y/N.”

Your eyes stare vacantly into the beautifully glowing embers, you hear nothing but the sparks of flame crackling on wood.

“Y/N.”

A whisper perhaps, you can’t tell, you’re so lost into your own head at this point nothing but the fire matters to you.

Without warning a gentle hand is placed on your shoulder causing you to jump and drop the metal stick onto the stone fireplace with a loud clatter. Your eyes dart for the one who touches you as your heart beats heavily inside your chest.

Instead of a petty thief come to slay you, is the soft comforting eyes of Geralt, “Forgive me, I didn’t mean to startle you.” Apologizes the Witcher as he sits down next to you, offering half of his huge warm blanket.

You oblige without a second thought and let him drape it over your back while he then scoots closer so that your crossed knee is touching his. You give him the flash of a sad smile before drifting your dreary gaze back to the glowing hearth.

“Thank you for sharing, winter is cold after all and this cabin isn’t the most insulated of places.” You add, a low drone in your voice much unlike your usual lively self that he’s grown to love.

Furrowing his grey brows, Geralt studies your half illuminated face in the firelight, the only real source of light since the sun has gone down hours ago. “I figured you needed the company, and a blanket. I can almost of see my breath.” He says with a small chuckle though you barley acknowledge his very presence.

“Y/N?” He whispers, nudging your leg with his, “I haven’t spoken of it before but if I may ask, what happened to your hand?”

You look down to your left hand opposite of where Geralt is sitting, you hide it from the light though it is covered with a white cloth and your long sleeves. He is very observant isn’t he?

“Nothing important. I got it when fighting those damn soldiers before I saw you. It’s almost all healed up.” You whisper, “No need to think about it anymore.”

The room stays silent for another couple minutes before he finally speaks once again in that low gruff voice of his, “What troubles you?” He asks much to your surprise, maybe he is too observant for his own good.

“Many things.” You mutter quietly, turning your face to find his concerned gaze, a small smile on your lips to lessen his doubts, “Don’t worry my dear Witcher, you’re not one of them. And I’d rather not give you my burdens, they are not a fun little adventure like the ones you’ve told me about.”

“Neither are all of mine.” He speaks truthfully, staring deep into your saddened eyes, “I would be honored to comfort you of such miseries if you still want me near after.”

You look to the floor, biting your lip at this almost intimate news even if he only means to speak words of ease to you. Why not? What is there to lose if you tell him why you feel so full of melancholy.

Raising your eyes back up to his, you take a deep heavy sigh before looking back into the fire, “I had a good life. I really did, I had a mother and a brother. But that was all taken from me when those bastards plundered and beat their way into my peoples lands. Looting and killing as they went, what could I do huh...my family was in their way.” You admit with a hidden rage that just about causes the flames to glow brighter.

“They came into our village and began to burn everything they could, they ran into houses and stole away valuables untouched by the desolation yet. They took and killed my neighbors and friends, women and children, screaming infants.”

You pause for a moment, eyes welled up with unshed tears as you find your voice, “They burst through our door and pulled us three from our house before we could even react. Then those fuckers killed the only person who ever showed me true kindness and love, she didn’t deserve to die that way Geralt, she didn’t. Then again none of them did.”

“I can’t imagine.” Whispers Geralt sincerely, understanding how much it pains you to speak of your mother like this.

“For that,” You seethe out darkly, “I killed my first soldier that day, but of course they didn’t like that, not at all. Soon they held me down and beat me bloody like I was a fucking dog, if it wasn’t for my brother who stopped them. I’d be dead, he saved my life that day, helped me escape and I never looked back.” You swallow thickly as a lone tear slides down your cheek, “I haven’t seen him since, and I dare not think of how he met his end. It just fills me with rage and then...as you can see, I get like this.”

“Best not to linger in the darkness for too long.” Admits Geralt, his eyes truthful and honest as he takes you all in, “I wouldn’t want to lose you.”

Breaking out into a crooked smile you blink more tears away as he moves an inch closer, “I already feel gone some days. I’m not a good person Geralt, I’m dangerous.” Your voice his raspy and soft now as the feel of the room appears to take a shift somewhere you’re not so sure of. Dangerous? Y/N he has no idea.

The Witcher’s lips curl into a pleasant smile as his face keeps mere inches from your own, “I like dangerous.” Whispers Geralt before his plush lips pull you into a new world of warmth and fire. He moves against your mouth, taking his time as the two of you find a comfortable rhythm. Well, this is nice.

He tastes as sweet as the apples you gave him for dinner and all the better to draw you away from your darkness as he showers you in his intoxicating light. You can’t believe how gentle and passionate he feels against you now and it’s only his lips!

You could stay like this forever but soon enough he pulls away, resting a calloused hand against your knee, “Forgive me I should have asked.”

“Don’t be a fool, I was thinking it too. And anyways you kept your word.”

“Did I?” Wonders Geralt, brows furrowed in confusion.

You smirk, “Remember? You said you’d comfort me of my miseries? Are you still planning on doing that...just a simple question really you don’t have to look so lost.”

Breaking out of his frumpled gaze he finally gives you a handsome smile, “How could I forget?”

“Well it was pretty traumatic so.” You deadpan with a dark humored snort before Geralt leans in to capture your lips once more.

The next morning you wake from the warm comfort of the cabins large single bed, an equally as warm arm covering half your face as you feel a large body pressed firmly against your side. Your hair lays free and unkept around your face as well, and you already know your naked underneath this soft blanket and snoozing man next to you.

His breaths are slow as he stirs in his slumber, pulling you in even closer as his arm now finds itself against your one free breast. You giggle quietly at the situation, how awkward it would be if someone was to burst forth from those doors and find you both in the nude like this. Ha, let them try.

Apparently you’re not as subtle as you’d thought, Geralt awakens before sucking in a deep breath as he stirs slightly, suddenly freezing in place once he realizes his hand is practically squeezing your boob.

You chuckle, moving your hand to keep it there, “You’re surprisingly a cuddlier, who would have thought?” You jest humorously.

“Uh....yes.” Mutters Geralt awkwardly as you smile, though he can’t see it.

Noticing his change of behavior you realize he doesn’t really know what to do about your boldness so you help him out by shifting yourself to face him. “With how well you were treating me last night I would have thought my breast would feel quite nice in your hand. Have I misinterpreted?”

He smiles, a small dusting of pink finding its way onto his chiseled features, “I find it important to respect you first Y/N, this is still...new.”

Biting your lip you lean in close to place a gentle kiss against his soft lips, “I enjoy your touch, you’re something that I believe I’ve been missing for a long while. Maybe we were meant to find each other and you not kill me.”

He chuckles a sweet sound that fills you with pure joy, “And you to heal me, I don’t feel much pain anymore.”

You smirk, rolling your eyes as you graze your hand down his face and arm, “I healed you enough about six days ago, I know you were just milking it since.”

“No I wasn’t...”

“Oh shut it, I think it was a clever idea to get in my pants if that was your plan.”

He fake scoffs, “That wasn’t the plan Y/N.”

“Then what was the plan? Oh wait,” You move yourself even closer to him, lips just barely touching, “Witcher’s don’t have plans, they just flatter and hope for the best.”

His strong arm holds you close as you rest your hand on his shoulder, “Maybe so.” Whispers Geralt before pressing his lips to yours.

Soon enough you find yourself pinned down to the bed, a very hot and visibly happy Geralt deep inside you as you try and keep yourself from screaming to loud. You can’t help how big and beautiful and so very large he is, and anyways he looks like a man on the edge of paradise. Who are you to deprive your new lover of his high?

Geralt does admittedly feel blessed against you if you’re being completely honest, the way he thrusts deeply into your womanhood like a man deprived of such pleasantries, or maybe the way your name falls onto his sweet lips when he feels his weakest. You can’t tell for sure, but he may be in love with just as much as you are with him and that is a promising thought. Or is it?

With an almost whiny moan do you finally come, the pleasure built up after such a ride releasing at long last. Sending a wave of euphoria throughout your entire vessel causing your slick walls to clench around Geralt’s hard cock as he continues to relentlessly pump into you.

Soon you can feel a hot warmness pooling into you as your Witcher grunts in satisfaction while his length twitches inside you, painting your walls with his seed like the skilled artist that he is.

Hovering just above your sweaty and very naked form does he smile kindly before leaning down to capture your swollen lips with his own. He bucks his hips into you a couple times more as he enjoys the feeling of making you squirm underneath him. Completely surrendering all that you are to him, though he’d be lying if he said that he wasn’t doing the same with you.

Laying flush against you, his body still between your sore legs he pulls away from your pouting lips to lean his arms against your face. Soon another kiss is stolen, then another and another as he gently presses his lips to your cheek. Then jaw, where he decides to stay and attack for awhile which causes you to chuckle at his adorable-ness. 

“You need new clothes.” You practically moan as he playfully bites your jaw, kissing that spot just as quickly.

“It’s warm in here.” Mutters Geralt against your hot skin, “Nothing is as interesting as you.”

You bite back another moan, “We need food.”

He smirks against your neck, rolling his hips to try and sway your mind, “But you’re delicious enough Y/N.” Oh this man.

Breathing heavily you do your best to fight off your growing arousal, “Geralt.” You warn through clenched teeth, hands leaving red marks down his back as you playfully threaten him.

He kisses your cheek once more as a sly hand squeezes your firm breast, “Fine. Let me make love to you first then we can go.” States Geralt against your lips as he suddenly gives you three deep slow thrusts that send you into another realm of pleasure.

[mrsagathaharkness]

Strangers

AGATHA HARKNESS/FEM!READER

WARNING: Angst, Heartbreak, Mentions of Depression, Mentions of Self-Harm, Hallucinations, Fighting

SUMMARY: After disappearing for an entire century, Agatha finally returns to you.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

I walk into the desecrated church, where the next mass would take place. The cobblestone walls adorned torches and ivy ropes. It was a beautiful setting, if only I was in the mood to enjoy it. I’d barely slept the night before. Tossing and turning, but to no avail. I was already being greeted by the rising sun, before I could even begin to drift off.

I thought, after the countless nights we spent in the woods together, she felt the same way I felt about her, but I was wrong. I woke up one morning alone in the cold, with Agatha no where to be found. To say I was devastated would be the biggest understatement in existence. For years, everything went dark. I would barely leave my cottage, refusing to eat or drink, until one of the other witches found me, among many other things. Things that I am not proud of.

Ever so often, I would find myself on the floor of my bathroom, watching the blood from my wrists and thighs wash down the drain along with the water. Though my wounds would heal themselves in an instant, I could feel enough of the pain to remind myself that I was still alive. I would often imagine her next to me in bed as I slept. Holding me and kissing the nightmares away, only to wake up to an empty room. Even a hundred years later, I still see her shadow in the corner of my eye. Her voice echoing throughout my home. The image of her face still fresh in my mind.

Once the final prayers were given, the coven was dismissed. I bid all my peers goodbye, before walking back to my cottage. But as I did, I found track marks in the grass that lead to the front door. It was open. Why was it open? Hesitantly, I walk in and looked around before my eyes landed on a ghost. Long dark hair cascading down her back, bright sapphire irises pouring into mine with such need and longing, her soft rosy lips slightly agape at my presence. I softly gasp and turn away, closing my eyes. Wake up.

Just then, I felt familiar arms wrapping around me, pressing my body against hers. I was awake. I immediately push her away, using my magic to hold her away from me. Keeping Agatha suspended above the ground.

“(Y/N)-”

“NO!”, I yell,

I finally look back at her. Her eyes filled with tears, threatening to spill.

“Why are you here?”, my voice shaky and unsure,

What could she possibly want? She abandoned me. She was the one who left. She broke my spirit, the trust I had in her and the ability to see the good in people…so why couldn’t I bring myself to hurt her like she did me? All the anger and hurt that’s built up over the years could have never prepared me for the possibility of Agatha’s return.

A searing burn began in my chest, denying me any air. It spread through my body, setting fire to my face and ears, till all I could hear was a faint ringing.

“I came to see you”, the witch finally answered,

At that point, I couldn’t hold the sobs from escaping my lips. I slowly put her down and hugged myself, trying so hard to keep it together.

“You have every reason to hate me”, she explained,

Making me scoff.

“But I hope you know there wasn’t a day that went by where I wasn’t thinking about you…us”, she added,

She gently advanced towards me.

“Bullshit”, I mutter under my breath,

“It’s true”, she argued,

Walking closer towards me. All I wanted was to run into her arms, but I knew I shouldn’t.

“You left me”, I sobbed,

“I know”, she replied,

“You left me!”, I say louder,

“I know that”, her voice falls beneath a whisper,

Finally holding onto my arms.

“YOU LEFT ME!” I cried,

Shoving her arms away.

“(Y/N), stop”, she pleaded,

“I THOUGHT YOU WERE FUCKING DEAD!”, my magic makes a glass cupboard explode into pieces,

Making her flinch.

“I CRIED EVERY NIGHT, KILLING MYSELF OVER AND OVER, WISHING I WAS DEAD!”, my dining table levitates, before flying towards the wall and getting completely destroyed,

“WHEN YOU DISAPPEARED, I BLAMED MYSELF, BECAUSE I THOUGHT I LET SOMETHING HAPPEN TO YOU!” I screamed,

As hot streams of tears rushed down my cheeks. Agatha was still trying to hold me, whilst I fought back.

“You left me! You left me! You left me!”, I screamed,

Hitting her repeatedly in the arms and shoulder, while she tried desperately to hold on. All I could do was yell and cry. It was as if my body forgot how to do anything else. This went on for a good while, until I got tired and collapsed in her arms. She sat on her feet, holding onto my upper body, as I tried to catch my breath against all the coughs.

“You did this to me”, my weeping words barely heard,

“You left me”, I whispered,

I could feel her tears drip onto my bare shoulders.

“I know”, she muttered against the top of my head,

Softly rubbing my back.

“I was a coward”, she added,

Sounds of my sniffles and jagged breaths served as the background ambience to this scene.

“I was falling for you and I didn’t know what to do”, she continued,

“I was scared that if I got too attached, you would have been the one to leave. So I hurt you before you got the chance to hurt me”, she admitted,

I slowly sat up, looking at her through red tired eyes.

“I wouldn’t have done that to you”, I return,

“I would never do that to you”

She squeezed her eyes shut and pulled me into her arms.

“I’m so sorry”, she pleaded,

I was overwhelmed with so many feelings. Hurt, Anguish, Rage.

Relief.

Despite all the negative emotions, the most prominent one was solace in knowing that she was alive. When she first disappeared, I couldn’t help but think something had happened to her. Something bad. It tore me up inside for years. I grieved the loss of someone I cared about, someone who I thought would be there forever.

“I loved you”, I say,

Her tender hands meet each side of my face, before bringing her lips to mine. A moment passes before I pulled away, resting my forehead against hers.

“I loved you too”

The night was spent with her holding me in comforting silence. Just being in each other’s arms under the thick wool blankets, shielded from the cold night, we felt our souls begin to recover and intertwine.

“I’m never leaving again”, she declared,

Delicately caressing my hair.

[lady-of-the-lotus]

Songxiao + Xuexiao (past) - M - read on AO3!

........................

Song Lan doesn’t notice anything wrong at first.

He can’t speak, his tongue gone. There’s no speech to slur, no words to stumble over.

It’s only when he leaves the inn one morning, two months after Xue Yang set him free, two months after Xue Yang, with a mocking smile, had decided it was crueler to let him live than to put him out of his misery and dropped him hundreds of miles away from Yi City—it's only then that he notices.

His left-side vision is dimming.

He reaches up, touches the holes left in his skull by Xue Yang’s nails.

Fine. You’re fine…

But the fingers on his left hand are clumsy as they grasp the heavy stick he carries for protection now that Xue Yang has Fuxue.

Fine…

Fine, despite his inability to focus on anything too complex, despite his difficulty remembering names and faces.

A blessing, that part. Let the memories of his years as Xue Yang’s slave fade…

But even if he has trouble recalling the details, he can still remember the emotions. The guilt, the grief, the helplessness.

The hate.

And he can clearly remember every word he said to Xiao Xingchen on that wretched day six years ago when he had turned on him, blaming him for the slaughter of his temple. They ring in his ears as he tries to sleep, haunting his steps.

“Your fault, all your fault—”

Song Lan knows better now.

Too late. Too late to apologize. Too late to do anything but guard Xingchen's corpse.

It takes him a year to find his way back to Yi City.

He doesn’t have to eat, at least, but before freeing him Xue Yang had maliciously altered him to need sleep, and he has to walk the entire way without a tongue to ask for directions or shelter. There are entire days at a time where he heads in the wrong direction, forgetting where Yi City lies, sleeping on the side of the road. His legs are clumsy, brain damaged by Xue Yang’s nails, but he can move, at least, struggle back to Xiao Xingchen’s side, protect him from Xue Yang's desecrations.

It’s late winter when he arrives at Yi City.

Snow has begun to fall, smothering the city in silence. The streets are empty, haunted by ghosts and memories of the dead, but the snow chokes all sound from any creatures making a home in the ruins.

The sun is setting in a riot of blood and fire when he stumbles into the Coffin House courtyard in a nightmarish echo of that terrible day all those years ago, the day he’d come to Yi City only to see Xiao Xingchen sitting beside that monster, smiling at the animal, laughing—

Xiao Xingchen sits on the steps beside Xue Yang.

Peacefully watching the snow fall.

Smiling.

Laughing.

Alive.

Song Lan ducks behind a coffin. His heart would have frozen, if it still beat.

It can’t be.

Xiao Xingchen is dead—has been for years—Song Lan has watched Xue Yang scream at his corpse, bathe it, dress it, touch it—watched him try ritual after ritual, sacrifice after sacrifice, spell after spell—

Xingchen e appears thinner than he remembers, as if he’d desiccated in death, and his grayish-white skin is mottled with purple. A white eye patch covers one eye, but a dark brown eye is set in his right eye socket.

“How do you feel, daozhang?” Xue Yang asks Xingchen, and every muscle in Song Lan’s body goes rigid at the sound of that hated voice that’s haunted his waking dreams. “Better than yesterday?”

The smile drops from Xingchen's face. He glances down at the ground, the snowy courtyard like a pool of blood in the light of the setting sun. Xue Yang lays a hand on his arm, and a shudder passes through Xingchen.

“It’s alright, daozhang,” Xue Yang says, and he speaks so soothingly that Song Lan wants to lunge at him, beat him to death, but he can’t get his limbs to move. “The more we do it, the better you feel. Take my yang…” And suddenly he’s leaning into Xiao Xingchen, mouth on his mouth, hand between his legs.

And Xiao Xingchen is on his back on the porch, one hand—one hand tangled in his hair—chest rising and falling sharply as Xue Yang—

As Xue Yang—

A moan of terror from Xiao Xingchen, moving beneath Xue Yang as if trying to thrust him off of him, and suddenly Song Lan is beside them, his stick slamming into Xue Yang’s skull.

A crack, and Xue Yang tumbles down the stairs, staring lifelessly up at the red-streaked gray sky.

It’s over now, Song Lan wants to say as he kneels beside Xiao Xingchen. I’m here, you’re safe—

He reaches out a trembling hand, fixing Xingchen’s robe, and Xingchen pulls away from him, eye wide with shock.

“What happened?” Xingchen asks, his voice thin and hoarse, as if it hasn’t been used in a long time. “Chengmei—”

Xue Yang! Song Lan wants to say. Not “Chengmei”—

Xiao Xingchen looks up from Xue Yang’s body, sees Song Lan’s face.

A smothered gasp.

“Zichen?” he whispers. “Zichen—”

He reaches up to touch Song Lan’s face, and Song Lan pulls away instinctively. Xiao Xingchen’s hand drops to the stairs, but his eye continues to drink in Song Lan’s face.

“You came back for me,” he says.

Song Lan nods. He wants to gather Xiao Xingchen in his arms, hold him close, be certain it’s not an illusion borne of the holes in his brain, but while his touch aversion has faded after death dulled his senses, it hasn’t completely dissipated.

But Xiao Xingchen falls forward onto his chest, sobbing tearlessly.

“I killed you—I thought I killed you—”

Song Lan holds him at arm’s length, drinking in the familiar face he never thought he'd see again—not like this. Xingchen’s face is bone-white, with dark bruises around his good eye and gray veins lacing through his ashen skin. A single tear leaves a crimson track on his cheek like the trail of blood Xue Yang’s head has left in the snow.

“Why don’t you say something?” Xiao Xingchen says, desperation creeping into his voice. “Why don’t you speak—”

Song Lan opens his mouth.

Xingchen looks away from the useless stump that had once been Song Lan's tongue.

Song Lan removes his hands from his shoulders.

It’s fine, he mouths. It’s not your fault, it’s not your fault…

Wordlessly, Xiao Xingchen rises and disappears into the house, returning with Fuxue and Song Lan’s horsetail whisk. He hands them to Song Lan and sits beside him, still without speaking.

They sit like that all night, watching the snow cover Xue Yang’s corpse as it lies sprawled at the foot of the stairs. A single candle illuminates the porch, the courtyard a wall of black dotted with whirling gray snowflakes. Xiao Xingchen makes sure not to touch Song Lan, sitting a good handbreadth away from him, but despite his deadened senses Song Lan thinks he can feel Xiao Xingchen’s warmth.

His imagination, he knows. Xingchen’s undead body must be as cold as his is…

But he enjoys the phantom heat anyway. Is warmed by the knowledge that Xingchen is back, Xingchen is alive—as alive as he is, at least—

At dawn Xingchen tears his gaze away from the snowy white mound at the foot of the stairs and rises.

“We should bury him,” he says.

Shaking his head, Song Lan gets to his feet and turns away from the mound.

Xiao Xingchen extends his hand, lets it hover over Song Lan’s forearm. “Please, Zichen. He brought me back. He kept me from…he kept me whole.”

He hurt you, Song Lan wants to say. He deceived you. He killed you, he—he touched you—

But he nods and digs a shallow grave on the side of the road. Heaves Xue Yang into it, covers him with dirt and snow, and stands a respectful distance back while Xiao Xingchen stands over the grave.

Bows his head.

Song Lan closes his eyes. Xingchen's compassion had been one of the things that had drawn him to him, but this was a step too far.

“We need to find A-Qing,” says Xiao Xingchen when he returns to his side.

Song Lan looks up sharply from where he’s been examining the mud splattered on his hem. She’s still alive? he writes in the snow.

“Xue Yang dropped her in Hebei. We were going to go find her together…”

Song Lan’s grip tightens on Fuxue’s hilt, the joy he feels at knowing A-Qing is still alive in some form tainted by how Xiao Xingchen says together.

Song Lan knows Xue Yang. Had spent years as his slave, with only a tongueless A-Qing to show him any kind of compassion.

Xiao Xingchen, it seems, still sees Xue Yang as Chengmei, at least in some way, for him to believe that Xue Yang would ever bring A-Qing back.

She’s probably dead, Song Lan wants to write, but then he remembers how Xue Yang had let A-Qing remain in Yi City despite her obvious hatred of the animal, let her sit for hours on end beside Xiao Xingchen’s coffin, let her fix Song Lan’s hair when Xue Yang would leave him standing for weeks on end in the Coffin House courtyard.

Song Lan’s skin had crawled at her touch, but despite the many things that have faded from his mind, he’s never forgotten her kindnesses to him.

We have to find her, he writes, and Xiao Xingchen nods.

They travel for a month.

Walking, their golden cores gone. Nighthunting as much as possible. Song Lan is clumsy, his vision bad, and Xiao Xingchen is weak, but they’d made a vow to each other, all those years ago. A vow to never let a cry for help go unanswered…

Xingchen sleeps beside him, close enough to touch, if he wishes. Song Lan would like to, he thinks. Would draw Xinghen to his chest, reassure himself that Xingchen is real, is here with him.

But then he remembers Xue Yang on top of Xingchen, Xingchen’s terror—

A memory he wishes he can forget, just as he’s forgotten the names of many of the people from Baixue Temple (I should remember their names, he thinks. I shouldn’t be relieved that forgetting their names and faces dulls the pain of losing them—). But the vision comes to him in dreams, haunting him whenever he thinks back with pleasure to the sound his stick made when it shattered Xue Yang’s skull.

Song Lan’s touch would be chaste, but he can’t do that to Xingchen. He needs to help Xingchen heal, help him forget…

He almost asks Xingchen how Xue Yang brought him back one night, as they lie awake in an inn, unable to sleep through the crash of thunder and dazzling flashes of lightning.

How— he starts to write on the wax table he uses for speech, then quickly erases it.

“What is it?”

Song Lan takes the stylus again. It takes him a moment to remember the proper characters. I was just going to ask how you’ve been feeling. It feels strange to write those words. He knows he and Xiao Xingchen must have discussed things as mundane as this in the past, but the conversations he recalls with any real clarity are ones about ideals, about their future together, the sect they planned on founding.

“I’m fine.”

You’ve been quiet.

In truth, Xingchen, like him, has never been very garrulous. But he can’t very well say, You’ve been distant.

A different kind of distant than he remembers. There had always been something untouchable about Xiao Xingchen, but in the past it had been like a star fallen to earth, slightly out of sync with everything around it but glowing with pure white light.

Song Lan had found small ways to connect with that star. He had done all of the cooking, partially because he couldn’t bear to have anyone touch his food but mostly to find ways to take care of the most human part of Xiao Xingchen, taking pleasure when Xingchen, who had little interest in food, ate something he’d prepared for him. He’d covered him with blankets at night and handled all the little details when they’d traveled together.

But Xingchen is the only one who can speak with innkeepers. No longer eats, no longer gets cold.

No longer needs Song Lan.

“That’s not what you wanted to ask,” says Xingchen. He’s lying very still, lit by the flickering lightning, silky black hair spread around his white face. “Go on.”

It’s nothing.

Instead of pressing him as Song Lan wants, Xiao Xingchen takes him at his word and rolls over, facing the window. His bony purplish hand rests on the blanket, almost floats.

There’s an odd, almost waxy coat to the skin. As if it’s been rubbed with half-absorbed grease that left a dull sheen.

Song Lan wants to take it, examine it closer, but he can’t risk touching Xingchen, not after what Xue Yang had done.

Song Lan closes his eyes and tries not to think about drawing Xingchen close. It’s a warm night, spring come early, filling the room with heat, and Song Lan imagines Xingchen might almost feel warm…

Feel alive.

He notices the odd waxy coat again a week later. It’s a grim and overcast morning, but with more light than the night in the inn. Far hotter than it should be this time of year, the humidity wrapping his limbs in heavy weights.

Song Lan walks a pace or two behind Xiao Xingchen, discreetly eyeing his hands.

A definite sheen, and not just on Xiao Xingchen’s hands. His gaunt, beautiful gray face too, Song Lan notices when he returns to his side.

And—

Flies. Flies buzzing around his head, settling lazily down on his throat, his nose, on the thin rust-colored skin covering his knuckles…

Song Lan’s stomach hardens into a cold hard knot. He squints slightly, trying to sharpen the faded vision in his left eye, and Xiao Xingchen notices. Shoos the flies away and quickly puts his hand behind his back, but it’s too late.

“I didn’t want you to worry,” he mumbles in response to Song Lan’s horrified look.

How long have you known?

Xiao Xingchen swallows. Now that Song Lan knows what to look for, he can see the places where Xingchen’s lip has rotted away, where it’s—

Are those—

He looks away, but it’s too late.

Those are maggots in the hollow of Xingchen’s lip.

Xiao Xingchen steps away. “Let’s go, Zichen. There’s a ghost in the next town that—”

Song Lan takes hold of his arm, immediately letting go, but Xiao Xingchen freezes.

How long?

“As soon as you killed Xue Yang,” says Xingchen quietly.

A chill creeps up Song Lan’s spine.

“The cold weather arrested it, but now that it’s warm…”

Song Lan’s fault. All his fault. Just as the slaughter of Baixue Temple had been his fault, just as the loss of Xingchen’s eyes had been his fault—

“Forget it, Zichen.” Xingchen is walking now, as if trying to put distance between him and Song Lan. “Just forget it. It’s nothing…”

Song Lan runs after him, tripping, falling, scrambling clumsily to his feet. Not nothing! You’re dying—

“It’s fine.”

Song Lan wants to yell, scream at him, Your life is important! It’s not nothing! I only just got you back—

How? He writes instead. It takes him three tries to get the characters right, consternation making his memory even worse than usual. How did he keep you from—from rotting?

Xiao Xingchen glances away from the tablet. “He…he gave me his yang.”

He—

“Yes. I don’t know the specifics, he destroyed his work after I came back, I don’t know why, I don’t know…I….”

Dual cultivation? How is that even possible with two men?

Xiao Xingchen gives a soft sad smile. “He’s a genius. Was a genius.”

He forced you to—

“It wasn’t like that…”

What else could it be like?

Xiao Xingchen licks his lips, an old gesture of discomfort. His tongue dislodges one of the maggots, the writhing white creature falling into the collar of his robe.

“He kept me whole,” he mumbles.

Could someone else do it? Give you yang? Song Lan, as a fierce corpse, is full of yin. Yet another way he’s failed Xingchen. Had he not been a fierce corpse, he would have done anything to save Xingchen, no matter how revolting, but as he is, he's completely useless. Perhaps a woman—

“Only him,” says Xiao Xingchen shortly, and he heads down the road.

Song Lan remains behind, staring at the spot Xingchen had been standing.

He’d killed Xiao Xingchen.

Killed him as surely as if he had driven Fuxue through his heart.

Had Xue Yang been alive—

No.

Song Lan would never allow Xue Yang to come near Xiao Xingchen.

But he could have forced Xue Yang to figure something else out—

He’s been trying to forget them, but Xingchen’s words come back to him.

He forced you to—

“It wasn’t like that…”

But Xingchen had not been thinking clearly. Song Lan knows that. Xingchen, as always, is too compassionate for his own good. That monster had twisted his mind, forced him to allow him to—to touch him, just for the privilege of being kept alive—a life he’d been forced back into by that animal—

Song Lan follows Xiao Xingchen down the road.

They camp under the stars that night. Song Lan wants to make a fire, but is afraid of what the heat will do to Xingchen. Xiao Xingchen lies beside him in the tall feathery grasses, staring silently up at the clear moonlit sky, scattered with thousands of stars.

Like eyes. Like eyes watching them both. Eyes that know everything, have seen everything: watched Song Lan scream abuse at Xiao Xingchen, watched Xiao Xingchen blind himself for Song Lan, watched Xingchen leave—

The stars know that everything that happened in Yi City was Song Lan’s fault.

Know that Song Lan owes Xingchen more than he can ever repay him.

Know that Song Lan should have died in Baixue Temple with the rest of his people, the people he can barely remember, should remember—

Xingchen is silent, as if he too knows that Song Lan does not deserve to be there beside him.

Song Lan is seized by a sudden desire to tell Xingchen that he spent three years looking for him after their fight. That he hadn’t cast Xingchen off.

But that would be unfair to Xingchen.

Xingchen is dying, because of him. To tell Xingchen any of this now would be cowardly, the act of someone trying to lessen their guilt. Would place an unfair burden on Xingchen. Wouldn’t allow Xingchen to continue to fully feel the anger Song Lan knows he must feel towards him, Song Lan, the jinx who had brought about both of Xingchen's deaths.

Trying to calm his flurried thoughts, Song Lan draws in a deep breath for the first time in years, and his entire body goes numb.

The night is filled with the scent of rotting meat.

He forces himself to turn his head, glance over at Xingchen.

He is beautiful in the starlight, despite the rot. Despite the beetles nestling in his ear, the maggots in his mouth, the blackened lesions on his delicately-curved throat and the slimy red and purple spots marring his gray skin.

Silently Song Lan rises, goes to the nearby creek, returns with a wet cloth, and cleans Xingchen’s face. Wipes away the insects eating at his flesh, the writhing white dots on the yellow bone showing through on his hands and collarbones and jaw.

Something he can do for Xingchen, at least.

Xingchen opens his eyes when Song Lan is finished.

“Thank you,” he says quietly.

Song Lan nods and returns to his place beside him, making sure not to lie too close.

"I mean it." Xingchen reaches out, lays a decaying hand beside Song Lan’s, close enough for Song Lan to cover with his, if he chooses. “Thank you. For everything.”

Song Lan nods again. He no longer produces saliva, but he swallows hard anyway. He feels that phantom warmth again as Xingchen smiles at him for the first time since their reunion—his first real smile, the first one not touched by sadness, that same soft, gentle smile his faulty memory still remembers with painful clearness.

“I want to go to Baoshan Sanren,” Xingchen whispers, and the warmth fades, replaced by a ghostly chill. “And then we’ll find A-Qing…”

There is only one reason Xiao Xingchen would want to return to the mountain.

Song Lan knows that Xiao Xingchen would not risk breaking his vow a second time.

But it would not be breaking his vow to return home for burial...

Song Lan takes Xingchen’s slimy red hand and presses it between both of his, and nods.

It takes two months for Xiao Xingchen to find Baoshan Sanren’s mountain.

It’s more of a feeling Xingchen is following than an actual location, as her mountain moves every few years, and that inner spark has dampened with death and the decay that eats at his mind.

It’s at the end of the first month that his foot falls off, leaving behind a sharp shard of bone and rotting tangle of tendons and ligaments.

Without so much as a grimace Zichen helps him up, strong hands gently gripping Xingchen’s delicate waist, slipping his arm under him and helping him to the side of the road, where he fashions Xingchen a crutch with fingers that shake as they work.

He’s been touching Xingchen more and more lately. Cleaning the maggots from his skin, wiping away the ooze, bandaging the stumps left behind by his fallen fingers and toes and foot. Washing the foul liquid rot from his clothes, brushing the dead flies from his hair. Is willing to touch him despite his aversion to even the cleanest of touch, despite the decay.

Xingchen lets him. Zichen seems to need it as much as Xingchen does.

Xingchen can’t imagine the Zichen of six years ago would have done any of this. His friend has softened in this second life, grown more attentive, warmer, as if afraid that Xingchen’s frail body will crumble at the slightest frown from him…

Xingchen almost wants to laugh at that thought. That was what had finally happened today, excepting the frown.

Chengmei would have made a joke out of it…

"Need a foot?" he would have said, picking up the foot and handing it to Xiao Xingchen. "Get it? Like 'need a hand'? Admit it; that was funny!"

But best not think of him now. Should be easy enough to avoid thinking of him, given how Xingchen's mind is fading as his body falls apart.

Yes. Best not think of him now…

Think of him ever.

Think of his laugh, his stories, the joy on his face when Xingchen first opened his eyes.

Think of his mocking laugh, his cruelty, his fixed stare.

Of how quickly and brutally Zichen had killed him.

Of the surprising gentleness of Xue Yang's touch. The worshiping look on his face, as if he’d forgotten Xingchen could now see him. The warmth between his legs, Xue Yang’s lips nuzzling his throat, as if afraid to presume to kiss him on the mouth, as if unworthy now that the daozhang knew of his crimes.

Of how it felt to be so well-loved by someone so depraved, the one spot of light in another person’s darkness, his sole reason for being. The reason he was changing, becoming better, the reason he had spent six years trying to do something good, make up for his mistakes.

All of it as intoxicating as it was selfish.

How it felt to be forced to kill Zichen.

Xingchen rubs at his good eye.

The sad mound in the snow…

“Is it a ghost puppet?”

“I think so….it was shouting so fiercely a moment ago, but it should be dying…”

The clang of Fuxue as it hit the ground.

“Let’s go back and make food. I’m so hungry…”

Zichen used to cook for him.

He glances at where Zichen lies beside him, eyes closed. Chest unmoving, as still and silent as a true corpse.

Xingchen closes his eye. It’s hard to look at Zichen when he’s lying like this. A blatant reminder of what his friend has become.

Become because of Xingchen.

Not quite as bad as what you’ve become because of him…

He chases the thought away, as he has too many times before. His thoughts have been tangled and undisciplined since his return to life, a hectic jumble he can no longer control with meditation or breathing techniques.

Dying with Zichen watching over him is a better end than he deserves, after the countless innocents dead by his hand, after willingly lying back down with the beast—

With Xue Yang.

With Chengmei…

Zichen is not to blame for Xingchen’s current state. Not to be blamed for doing what he thought was right by Xingchen.

Not to blame for killing Xue Yang without hesitation.

Killing Chengmei...

How was he to know Xue Yang was going to help him find A-Qing? How was he to know Xue Yang had been trying to make up for what he had done, start fresh alongside Xingchen?

Xingchen knows full well there was no way Xue Yang could ever make up for everything.

But he had believed him when he swore he wanted to try.

Had to believe him.

Because if even someone as lost as Xue Yang could be better, could atone, that meant there was hope for Xiao Xingchen, too.

He speaks less and less as they near the mountain, even as Zichen grows more attentive, as if, in his solemn, subdued way, he’s anxious to bridge the gap between them.

But Xingchen is not pulling away intentionally. At least he doesn’t think so. It’s simply getting harder and harder to think straight as his mind decays…

The sad mound in the snow…

Stop. Stop...

Xue Yang cradling him, the warmth of his arms, the wild heartbeat vibrating through Xingchen, the hot splash of a teardrop on Xingchen's cold skin. "You're alive, you're alive, I did it, you're back, daozhang, you're here—"

Shifu is waiting for them at the foot of her mountain when they arrive, as if she had known they were coming. She looks exactly as he remembers her, tall and beautiful and deceptively stern.

Xingchen had not expected to last as long as he had. Had expected Zichen to bring his corpse to Shifu for burial. Had expected to spend his final moments beside his friend, had not expected to have to face Shifu as a walking corpse. Had not meant to break his vow again.

He’s surprised to find that he’s ashamed of what he’s become. But not for his sake, he realizes as Shifu stares at his monstrous face.

He’s ashamed on Zichen’s behalf. He can see the pain on Zichen’s face as he looks at Xingchen, the guilt.

It’s not your fault, Xingchen wants to tell him, but he can’t, not in front of Shifu. Not your fault...

He should have spoken earlier. Should have told Zichen that he doesn’t blame him, has never blamed him. Not truly...

He'll tell him tomorrow. Perhaps Zichen might even believe him...

Shifu says not a word about Xingchen breaking his vow and returning to the mountain again, at his bringing an outsider to her enclave a second time. Just reaches out to touch Xingchen’s face, staring at the slimy coat that comes away on her fingertips.

Silently she escorts Xingchen to his old bedchamber, meeting alone with Zichen while Xingchen rests.

Xingchen knows he should be looking forward to reuniting with his martial family, should sleep, meditate, something, but all he can do is lie in his familiar bed and stare at his half-blackened hand, three fingers already missing and the thumb beginning to wobble in its socket.

The missing fingers are in a qiankun pouch with his other dropped-off body parts, ready to be buried with him when the time comes.

He closes his eye as the hazy sunlight begins to fade, twilight filling the room with an eerie blue light, as if the room has been plunged underwater and he will begin to drown at any moment…

He drifts off into the nightmare-ridden in-between-state that passes for sleep nowadays, a sleep filled with bloated maggots feasting on his abandoned corpse as he floats, spirit-like, above his own body. Beetles gorge themselves on his rotting flesh, flies swarm his decaying face until his white skin is a liquid black mass of them. Worms curl around his exposed ribcage and dangle into his chest cavity like discarded rice noodles, twisting and writhing as they burrow into his bones.

The scene is lit by a fallen star, trapped on earth, lighting the skeleton with a lurid red glow, the once-pure white light tainted by blood.

Grasses sprout from his stomach, flowers, trees, vines ripping his skeleton apart with a cracking sound.

He can feel it, feel nature claiming him, feel the agony of snapping bone as he returns to the soil he never should have left—

He wakes with a cry.

Shifu stands beside his bed, a soft look on her face. The morning sun is dimmed by heavy rain, the room almost dark.

“He left you a note,” she says.

Xingchen sits up with difficulty and attempts to bow. “I—I don’t understand—”

She hands him the slip of paper.

I am sorry I couldn’t do more.

You will see me again.

Don’t forget about A-Qing…

The note flutters from Xingchen’s nerveless fingers, small greasy spots of rot staining the paper.

“He made me promise to heal you any way possible,” Shifu says, picking up the note. “For one who freed A-Xing, I have no choice but to oblige. But as an outsider, and a man, he could not be allowed to stay on our mountain.”

Xingchen barely hears her, staring at the wall. Then he looks up.

“Where is he waiting for me?”

“He will always be with you, A-Xing.”

A sinking feeling. “Where is he waiting for me?”

Shifu looks as if she wants to settle him back down in bed and pull up his covers like she used to when he was little. She had gone out of her way to tend to the children brought to the mountain. Abandoned baby girls, rescued by Baoshan Sanren. Xingchen had been the only male child taken in after Yanling Daoren left the mountain and become a tyrant. Xingchen had been born sickly and weak and not expected to survive even after being rescued from his basket in the foothills…

Sometimes he thinks he would have been better off fading away into the mountain all those years ago.

“You will know, when the time comes,” Shifu says. “Did you sleep well? You will need your strength. The procedure is a taxing one…”

Xingchen blinks. “Procedure?” His thoughts are increasingly, his mind rotting along with his body. "I don't understand."

“To replace your leg,” she says gently.

Xingchen glances down at his leg. It had fallen off several weeks after his foot, dislocating entirely from his hip socket. Zichen had carefully cut away the last scraps of skin connecting his leg to this hip, wrapped the putrefying limb with his cloak, and stored it away in the qiankun bag, carefully washing his hands in a nearby stream and giving Xingchen a gentle smile as he crafted him a crutch, as if to say, It's alright. I want to do this for you.

“My leg was rotted away,” he says. The words sound unreal on his slippery purple tongue. Rotted away. “It can’t be fixed…”

“I have a fresh one for you.”

“I don’t…”

There’s almost pity in her eyes. “There are many corpses around this mountain, unfortunately. Too many…”

He knows there’s something wrong about this, that they should be granting these bodies an honorable burial, but his dulled mind can’t formulate an argument.

After the first leg is replaced, his arm is as well, a week later, after it falls off into the stream with a gruesomely cheery splash while Xingchen attempts to scrape the putrid slime off his limbs.

Then his chest, his other arm, his other leg…

Shifu rarely leaves his side. She has him speak as much as possible, as if to distract his rotting mind from what’s happening to his body. Asks him endless questions about the world outside, from sect politics to the latest fashions, things neither she nor Xingchen care anything about, but it’s something. His knowledge is all years old, but he responds to her questions, glad of distraction.

“I want to go find Zichen,” Xingchen tells her one day, a month after he returned to the mountain. “Need to find him…”

“He will find you.”

“How…”

She puts a finger to her lips. “Quiet, A-Xing…”

And then one day Xingchen’s tongue bloats so that he can no longer form words. His throat is filled with writhing maggots, thick white larvae oozing from the split flesh of his throat, and Shifu, her face lit by sorrow, tells him they found a new corpse with an intact head, that she will transplant his consciousness, that he will still be himself…

“Better than you are now,” she says, shaking her head slightly, and Xingchen knows she’s picked up on his decaying mind despite how hard he’s worked to hide it.

He wakes a full week after the last procedure.

It’s raining again, a gentle cleansing rain that taps musically on the tile roof. Cool mists press against the windows, as if his room is suspended in a cloud, and off in the distance someone is playing a flute.

Silently he creeps from the bed, his new legs firm and strong, and pads across the room to where Shuanghua lies on the table.

He picks up the sword for the first time since returning to the mountain, the hilt solid and familiar in his pale, almost bleached-looking new hand. He has two eyes again, and though the vision is slightly blurred it’s sharper than his has been as his eyeball rotted, and his mind, though slightly fuzzy, is still faster and clearer than it has been in months.

He takes the sword over to the window, where the milky light is strongest. Chill damp radiates from the windows, ghostly fingers curling around the limbs that are not his own, as if trying to lure him outside into the haunted murk.

He draws the sword.

Holds up the shining silver blade.

Is about to look into the mirrored surface, inspect his new face, the stolen face of a dead man, when the door opens.

“A-Xing! You’re awake—”

Startled, he lets the sword fall from his hand with a clang reminiscent of Fuxue as it struck the ground of Coffin House courtyard.

Shifu holds out her hand commandingly. “Give me Shuanghua, A-Xing. You need to rest. Go back to bed—”

Xingchen tries to speak, can’t.

His tongue is gone.

“Back to bed, A-Xing, at once—”

Instead Xingchen stoops, picks up the sword, gazes back into the blade as if propelled by a force outside himself.

A familiar face stares back at him.

.............................

AO3!

[shadlad24]

Tumblr Master Post

(Third Mensiversary)

Hey, guys! So, instead of the usual monthly post, I decided to consolidate everything. From now on, I will update the following list and reblog it every 22nd. Enjoy!

Please note that Tumblr either cannot or will not preserve my formatting. So, I have used Google Docs as well. Please click on this link if you’d prefer that. It’s open to all. Thanks!

My posts are almost XWP-related and can be categorized into eight main categories (The pic below is merely for record-keeping and visualization purposes; scroll down for the actual links):

Questions

Curious— Why does everyone think Gabrielle/Renée O’Connor has green eyes?

A Favor to the God of War?— What in the world was the favor Ares wanted from Gabrielle during “Sacrifice”?

Smoking Gun?— Why did Hope knowing Solan’s name give her away as his killer?

Good Luck, Kid!— Why was security so bad in “Maternal Instincts”?

The Love of Your Love— Wasn’t the second verse of this song frustrating and hurtful to Gabrielle?

The (Many) Problem(s) with Ares— Why does so little about Ares’s character make sense?

Hard Ask— Can I PLEASE get a willing, able, AND reliable beta-reader for my Xena fanfic???

The (Many) Problem(s) with Ares [Reblog]— Three more questions about the god of war

No Way— Is the titular image of “Xena: Warrior Princess” what it seems?

Episode Reflections

Random Thoughts While Watching XWP— funny moments from “A Family Affair,” “Them Bones, Them Bones,” “Married with Fishsticks,” and “Coming Home”

Observations from “Sins of the Past”— fifteen things I noticed while watching the episode for the second time (first after completing the series)

Running Commentary on “A Family Affair”— just what it sounds like XD

Concluding Thoughts on “A Family Affair”— a defense of Hope and Gabrielle

Echoes Across the Years— how Solan’s last conversation with his mother echoed Gabrielle’s first with the warrior princess

Redeeming “Fishsticks,” Part 1— how the adults and themes in Gabrielle’s dreamworld held great significance

Redeeming “Fishsticks,” Part 2— how Crustacea’s monstrous children were re-imaginations of Hope and The Destroyer

Fault— my thoughts on the series finale

Good Luck, Kid! [Reblog]— a fun little extension of the original post showing the impression Gabrielle made on Hope

Original Fanfic Excerpts

The Mother of Hope, a collection of one-shots exploring Gabrielle’s thoughts, feelings, and experiences with/about her daughter

Disparity— Hope’s and Gabrielle’s conversation during the final commercial break of “A Family Affair”

Somewhere— Gabrielle searching Tartarus for Hope while Ares was harassing Xena and Solan in “God Fearing Child”

Super Challenge— the entire Rift Arc summed up in a single conversation, the lines of dialogue coming from each of the twelve Rift episodes of season three

Aperture— Gabrielle’s thoughts the night of her wedding

The Daughter of Duality, Hope’s life story from her perspective

My Great Hope— Seraphin prepares her goddess for childbirth

Hope Rising— Baby Hope makes a terrible mistake

“Tears of a Goddess: Blood Rain,” a one-shot exploring “Motherhood” from the goddess of love’s perspective

Useless— Aphrodite agonizes over what to do when alone with Gabrielle and Eve

Tears of a Goddess, a story in which Aphrodite comes clean about the large part she played in Gabrielle’s life behind the scenes

Gabrielle Rages against Xena— the bard finds herself at Aphrodite’s temple, heartbroken and lost after the series finale

Aphrodite Ribs Gabrielle— Aphrodite complains about Gabrielle’s mishaps throughout the show

Rapprochement, a story about Xena and Gabrielle hashing out The Rift Arc before finally coming together as a couple

The Answer— Xena reminds Gabrielle of who she is

Divine Intervention— Aphrodite blesses Xena and Gabrielle’s union

Adventures in Moving Forward, a chronicle of Aphrodite’s and Gabrielle’s adventures together post-AFIN and all my other XWP stories

Stranger— Aphrodite protects Gabrielle from a mob in Brittania

The Betrayer, Gabrielle's untold experience during “The Deliverer.”

Disturbance— Xena makes an unexpected suggestion on how to stop Gabrielle’s recurring nightmare

Deception— Khrafstar fills multiple voids in Gabrielle’s heart

Defilement— Reality slips away from Gabrielle with the loss of her blood innocence

Desecration— Gabrielle becomes one with darkness

Dissolution— The return of Gabrielle’s hero brings about only more tragedy

Fan Theories

Soul Orbits and Psychic Echoes— how Xena and Gabrielle got their children through equal and opposite people and circumstances

Shazam!— how Xena might be able to come back after the series finale

Man-Killer— what really happened to Toris

An Unsung Hero— Aphrodite being Gabrielle’s guardian angel throughout the Rift Arc

Infamous, Infuriated— why Xena engaged in the GabDrag (and BardBraining)

Solving Some Problems with Ares— answering two of my own questions about the god of war

Odd, Sort of Beautiful Symmetry— how we ended up with Annie and Harry

Soul Orbits and Psychic Echoes [Reblog]— an extension of the original theory that focuses more on Solan and Hope themselves

Solving More Problems with Ares— answering my next questions about the god of war

Episode Cracksubs

The Comedy of Amphipolis— “The Haunting of Amphipolis”

What in the Gurkhan?— “Who’s Gurkhan?”

Them Bones and Boneheads— “Them Bones, Them Bones”

TL;DRs— cliff-notes version of longer posts

TL;DR #1: Soul Orbits and Psychic Echoes

TL;DR #2: Infamous, Infuriated

TL;DR #3: The (Many) Problem(s) with Ares

Funny Little Moments— (Five:) a series highlighting overlooked silly things from each episode, illustrated in pictures and cracksubs / (More:) summation posts showcasing additional funny moments from each episode, in half-season chunks

Five Funny Little Moments #1: “Sins of the Past”

Five Funny Little Moments #2: Chariots of War

Five Funny Little Moments #3: Dreamworker

Five Funny Little Moments #4: Cradle of Hope

Five Funny Little Moments #5: The Path Not Taken

Five Funny Little Moments #6: The Reckoning

Five Funny Little Moments #7: The Titans

Five Funny Little Moments #8: Prometheus 

Five Funny Little Moments #9: Death in Chains 

Five Funny Little Moments #10: Hooves and Harlots

Five Funny Little Moments #11: The Black Wolf

Five Funny Little Moments #12: Beware Greeks Bearing Gifts

Miscellaneous

Golden Ticket— Renee O’Connor’s initial responses to me on Instagram

Bath Time— a fun self-challenge involving making a story from recently downloaded/screenshot images in just a few minutes

Mensiversary— review of my first month on Tumblr

Confirmation/Affirmation— Steven L. Sears’s essay of support for my Furies theory

K.O.— Renée O’Connor liking my comment about ^

Hooray!— The Mother of Hope is finished (kinda)

Aww…— a quick picture post to try something new while I was bummed about the deadly tech bug that obliterated my posts for weeks

Second Mensiversary— review of my second month on Tumblr

NOOO!— a lamentation related to The Mother of Hope

The (Many) Problem(s) with Ares [Reblog/Response]— answering a reader

More Funny Little Moments #1: Season 1, Episodes 1-12

*Other

Black Hole— a poem about depression

It’s Nothing— a poem on invalidation

What the?— the beginning of the bug :(

[samwrights]

Pining After You [hc]

Just some Haikyuu!! head cannons about my favorites pining after the object of their affection—you. I’m gonna limit myself to only one Seijoh 3rd year >_> instead, I’m just gonna make Makki’s super long bc love.

I might turn these into one shots. I’m planning a special series to be released for the entire month of May—let me know what you guys think!

Hanamaki;

Ya know, with my last head cannon, I had such a hard time writing for Makki and now that’s all I wanna do.

Cause THIS BOI is too easy-going, too cool, to ever be blunt and up front about his feelings for you. He can’t ruin his image by stumbling over a confession.

Definitely has been in love with you since your guys’ first year—all thanks to your laugh.

Every time he hears you, even if said laugh is occasionally broken with a gentle, genuine snort, Makki feels every single electrical pulse being sent into his nerve endings.

It was a huge part of the reason that he had started owning the class clown trope, cracking jokes with his peers and even the teachers even though that definitely was not kosher. But his almost dry, sarcastic sense of humor always seemed to be rewarded with the angelic gift that was your laughter.

But he doesn’t know how to talk to you. At all.

He tries really hard not to stare at you, or at least tries not to make it super obvious and fails considering you sit on the opposite ends of the classroom

Makki always has lunch in Mattun’s classroom just so he can freely talk about something you did in class that made him laugh or smile, even if it was something stupid like you dropped your pencil or you raised your hand to answer a question.

In your third year, Mattsun is tIRED of it all.

“Just go fucking confess your feelings, I swear to gOD, or I’ll tell her.”

“Dude no, I can’t she’s way outta my league.”

Did I mention Mattsun is over it? So over it that one day, instead of waiting for his best friend to come to his classroom for lunch, he decides to pay yours a visit.

Makki’s freaking out because the fCK was Mattsun walking over to your desk?!

“She’s coming to our tournament this weekend, so bring your A game.” Was all he said before leaving the poor wing spiker to drown in the blood rising up his neck.

You weren’t friends with anyone on the VBC, but you did actually end up at the tournament with a few friends.

Exhilarating was the only way to describe it, up until Seijoh’s loss to Karasuno.

After the team thanked the spectators for watching, you noticed all the third years crying, signifying the end of their careers.

“Thank you for inviting me to watch, Matsukawa. It was really fun.” You said politely, approaching them afterwards.

Mattsun shoves his best friend towards you, “actually, he wanted to invite you. He just didn’t know how.”

Makki.exe has stopped working. He’s too busy spluttering because he literally has no idea what to say to you now. Cool boy? Not even close.

“I’ve actually wanted to come to one of your matches for awhile. I just thought it was weird because I’m not friends with any of you.”

Oh. O H.

“Y-you could’ve asked me...”

“I was hoping you’d ask me. Why do you think I always laugh at your jokes, Hanamaki?”

“Wait, does that mean you don’t think I’m actually funny?” 💀💀💀 Rip.

“I do. You’re funny, talented, handsome, and I’ve liked you since first year.”

Makki.exe has stopped working.

Akaashi;

Akaashi has studied everything he could about you without ever having actually interacted with you.

He knew you were in Bokuto’s class, he knew your name, and that the two of you interacted often, but never outside of the classroom.

He knew that you always carried your school bag over your left shoulder, and tucked your hair behind your right ear when you felt it was in your face.

Your energy somehow matched his best friend’s while simultaneously calming the owl captain like a gentle wave. You reminded Akaashi of the sun rising over the ocean.

Bokuto, oblivious to nearly everything, never realized that his best friend’s calculations went beyond analyzing the ace. One small section of his brain was dedicated to your ass.

Really, there wasn’t anything extraordinary about you, or at least that’s how you felt about yourself. But every time Akaashi swung by Bokuto’s class to walk with him to practice, his eyes were immediately drawn to you for .067 seconds before he’d look away, so as not to make you feel uncomfortable.

Once in a while, Bokuto would let small details about you slip, like how you were in the art club and that you had a showcase coming up displaying the portfolio you had built over the last three years.

He definitely didn’t ditch practice to be there for your showcase.

Showing up to the venue where the showcase was being held, he suddenly felt very under dressed seeing other third years and teachers adorning formal attire while he showed up in black jeans and a grey button up.

Wandering around the venue, Akaashi looked for you or your artwork, his breath held in his lungs when he saw the arsenal of works displayed on large black boards with your name written elegantly at the very top. Made with various mediums, he was stunned by different paintings and drawings of surreal, exquisite landscapes that could not possibly exist.

Then again, he didn’t think you were real either.

One particular painting invoked a strange emotion in him—a large, desecrated shipwreck amongst of field of bright flowers with the sun setting in the back. Titled “Crack The Sky”, the piece emanated joy and grief in one. It was almost as stunning as you were.

“This one’s my favorite.” You announced sheepishly from beside him and he realized he had never heard your voice before. The setter turned to look at you, drinking in your appearance up close for the first time. “You’re Bokuto’s friend, aren’t you? Akaashi?”

He was kinda hurt to hear you mention Bokuto for reasons unknown to himself jealous much?

“Yeah. It’s nice to meet you.” He bows slightly, remember that no matter how infatuated he was with you, you were still his senpai.

He began walking with you as you explained the creation process of your different pieces. Not that he was actually paying attention, though he’d never admit that. He just liked hearing you talk and he would definitely never admit that.

You excuse yourself as your phone rings, though you don’t walk away, allowing him to hear your end of the conversation. “Yep, he’s here. I owe you dinner. You wanna talk to him?” Akaashi cocks a brow in your direction, staring at your cellphone that you’ve now held over to him. Bokuto’s name flashed on the screen.

“Uh, hi?” The setter asked, confused.

“I made a bet with her that you would ditch practice to go to her showcase because yOu LoVe HeR.”

Aight, imma head out.

Before he could run away out of embarrassment, you grabbed his wrist though you were still on the phone with Bokuto.

“Would you like to join us for dinner? Seems kinda unfair for him to get dinner when you’re the one who made the effort to be here.”

Akaashi graciously accepts to which you respond by telling Bokuto where you would meet him for the evening.

“So you love me, huh?” 💀💀💀 If Akaashi could magically disappear, he would. Or even better, if his blush ran hot enough to melt the skin off his face, that’d be great too.

But you never let go of his wrist until now, opting to wrap an arm around his instead.

“I like you too. Why do you think Bokuto and I made a bet about you coming here, silly?”

Kenma;

Poor Kenma. The worst part of his whole situation was actually being friends with you, knowing he would never get to have you.

Why would you want him, anyway? You were more fit for someone like Kuroo—someone who was as boisterous and confident as you were. He anticipated the day you two announced your relationship and left him behind in your little trio.

Not even Kuroo knew that he was in love with you and maybe that was a mistake on his part but he could never tell his best friend that you were his entire world. It was too embarrassing for him.

It took entirely too much energy to even sort through his feelings alone, how much more exhausting would it be for him to run through every single thing he felt about you to someone else?

Like the way you would nearly skip out your home every morning when the boys came to fetch you to walk to school together.

Or the way you unabashedly asked almost too personal of questions, or questions that were just soooo left field of you were friends with a person. “Hey Kuroo, how many brushes do you think you would break if you finally decided to brush your hair after 17 years?” Was one of Kenma’s favorites.

The way you sing along to every song that plays on your iPod or even the radio, even if you didn’t know the song, you would try to sing along anyway.

Some days, Kenma would look out the window and see you practicing some form of a dance routine in your backyard. He would watch you for hours until you went inside, suddenly feeling shame for being so creepy.

Nearly every night, Kenma just wished he could turn his feelings off while simultaneously wishing you were next to him so he could hold you while he slept.

Your smile was his favorite. Seeing you smile every morning as the three of you walked to school together was what got him through his day. “Hey, hey are you guys coming to my dance competition tomorrow?” You asked in your typical, jovial lilt.

“Of course.” Was all he was able to reply, while Kuroo enthusiastically responded about their attendance.

“Great! I can’t wait to see you guys in the crowd!”

The “C” word, was almost enough to make Kenna regret his decision to come. Even more so when he was surrounded by the masses, all waiting to watch their respective dance teams. But it was for you, and he would do anything for you.

Kuroo was right beside him, a small bouquet of roses in his hand to give to you after you competed. The blood red flowers made Kenna glower and glare in secret, or as secretive as he could be. “I got these for you.” The captain says quietly, handing them over to his best friend.

“Sorry, Kuroo, I can’t say I return your feelings—“

“For you to give to her, you idiot.” 🤡🤡🤡 “I’m not that dumb, Kenma.” The setter really wanted to argue and say that he was, but your school’s dance team was up to perform so he opted to stay quiet.

Have I mentioned that Kenma loves watching you dance? There was a reason he would watch you practice in your backyard. You moved with elegance and grace that was foreign and so opposite to his own demeanor, it was no wonder he was always so captivated by you.

After you compete, there’s a bit of downtime between the other competitors and the awards ceremony, giving you the chance to hang out with your besties.

“These are for you.” The second year says quietly, handing you the bouquet with a blush dusting over his cheeks. The red rivaled that of the roses.

“Aw, thank you, Kenma!” You squeaked out before giving him a kiss on the cheek, his skin burning even hotter. Kuroo’s just over there laughing but ya know.

During the awards ceremony, you’re sitting in a circle with your team not too far from your friends while they announced that Nekoma had taken first. Everyone in the dance troupe began screaming and hugging each other, while you ran straight to your boys.

While still jumping, you were hugging Kuroo so tight, arms squeezing around his neck while sharing the joy. Which made Kenma just a little bit jealous.

Just a little.

Until you’ve settled down from your jumping before wrapping your arms his neck as well. But rather than going for a hug—

Wait what is hAPOENING

You brought your lips to his briefly before burying your face into his neck out of embarrassment because wHY you had thought that was a good idea was beyond you.

Deciding you couldn’t just keep holding onto him, because he was probably embarrassed too, you stepped away, ready to run back to your team. But Kenma didn’t let go, his arms seated securely at your hips as he stared at you.

“I-I’m sorry, I-I don’t know w-w—“

“I love you.”

Wanna see a specific character? Or a different head cannon? Want to see a whole story?

Send in requests!

[crystalirises]

Scar

Hello! So this is for the first prompt. [Edit] TW: Death (doesn’t happen in the fic) and Abandonment (thank you for the person who pointed this out, sorry).

He’s home, but his whole world has changed... and he doesn’t understand why.

He catches Eret he doesn’t remember them that much, but Tubbo was kind enough to introduce him to everyone he’s forgotten from the corner of his vision, a crown of blue and gold flowers tangled upon their hair, and he thinks, “that isn’t right, is it?” There were small marks upon his skin, the remnants of a war he couldn’t quite remember. He doesn’t understand why Eret refuses to meet his eyes.

He takes a stroll with Niki, the soft and ethereal moonlight illuminating their path through the broken ruins of a nation. He feels colder than he usually does, Niki’s warmth a world away. The smile on her face is weary, exhaustion in her eyes, and he thinks, “did the war do that?” She looks like she hasn’t slept in a month. He doesn’t understand why she holds back her tears each time their eyes meet.

He peers up at Techno, his older brother’s blood red eyes cutting through his ghostly form. His fists are clenched at his side, his mouth pressed into a thin line. He sees the seething anger and fury within his brother’s usual nonchalant stance and thinks, “is he mad at me?” The last time he’s seen his brother this angry was when they were kids. He doesn’t understand what he’s done to deserve it.

He listens to Quackity’s his mind a mess of emotions at the mention of this particular name incoherent rambles. He stares as Quackity screams at a desecrated grave, eyes the size of pinpricks as thoughts of chaos and revolution slipped past his tongue, and he thinks, “who are you grieving?” He doesn’t like the glint of insanity in Quackity’s eyes. He doesn’t understand why, but he hates it.

He jumps as Phil’s arms wrap around his form, a twinge of resentment that he could never hold his father the same way ever again. He sees his father’s wings - clipped and useless in this world - and feels a seething anger that quickly disappears. He sees his father, and thinks, “who did this to you?” He trembles in his father’s familiar hold. He doesn’t understand why Phil looks at him with guilt and devastation. His father had done him a favour for why else would he remember his fatal end?

He has a lovely chat with Tubbo, his bright plans a sweet symphony of a new era. The smile has not faded from his younger brother's face, but he gazes at the multitude of burn marks on his brother's skin and shudders, the muddled memory of bright flashes of color resonating in his mind. Explosions begin to ring in his ears and he thinks, "what happened?" He wonders if he tried to save his brother from this fate. He doesn't understand how Tubbo could still bring himself to smile.

He follows after Fundy, terror rising from his chest as he takes in the burn marks that coat his son's hands. He does not miss the way Fundy runs away from him, does not miss the anguish and hate in his son's eyes each time they spoke. He follows, wishing he could hold his son in his arms and he thinks, "When did you get so big?" He trails after his son and almost chokes at the silence. He doesn't understand why Fundy can't look at him in the eyes.

Tommy... Tommy always chooses to run away, not sparing him a single glance as he quickly disappears around a corner. There’s a bubbling anger in the way Tommy throws himself into rebuilding New L’Manburg, an anger he fears is his fault, and he thinks, “What did I do to you Tommy?” He notices the blank look on his brother’s face each time the soft tune of a disc is played. He doesn’t understand why he ever allowed Tommy into a war he was too young for.

Wilbur knows he is not the only remnant of this nation’s bloody past. Though fleeting and haunting, he swears he could see ghostly visions of a baby blue sweater in the distant forest. He knows that sweater, fond memories of adventures and a companion riddled with jokes swirling to the front of his mind. He tries to find him, but he can’t and he thinks, “Why are you avoiding me, Schlatt?” He doesn’t understand why his best friend hides from him.

The scars remain, but perhaps one day... they’ll be okay.

It starts slowly.

----------

“Hey, Wil— Ghostbur.”

“Oh, hello Eret!”

“I...”

“I know I don’t remember you, but I’d like to get to know you again. No matter what you did before... no matter what I did before... okay?”

Eret pauses, “Okay.”

----------

“Wil— Ghostbur.”

“Hm? Yes, Niki?”

“Promise... promise me you’ll still be here in the morning. I don’t think I can stay up at night anymore.”

“You have my word, Niki. I’ll still be here, okay?”

Niki laughs, “Okay.”

----------

“Wilbur.”

“Techno, where have you been?”

“Oh. You know, anarchy waits for no man.”

“Just don’t try to wreck the place again, okay?”

Techno chuckles. “Okay.”

----------

“So, you saw that, huh?”

“Quackity, I don’t know why—“

“Just... I miss him. As much as I don’t want to.”

“You’re mourning and that’s alright, okay?”

Quackity sniffles, “Okay.”

----------

“Son.”

“Hey, dad.”

“So... Chinese lanterns, huh?”

“We made them together, remember? Want to help?”

Phil sighs, “Okay.”

----------

“Ghostbur, I’m not sure I can do this.”

“Tubbo, listen to me—“

“What if I make a mistake—”

“Tubbo. You’re going to be a great president. I don’t doubt that for a second.”

Tubbo nods, “Okay.”

----------

“D-dad... Will you walk me down the aisle?”

“Oh, Fundy! Of course I will.”

“R-really? After everything I—”

“You’re my son, Fundy. I love you.”

Fundy cries, “Okay.”

----------

“Hey, Ghostbur.”

“Tommy.”

“I miss you, big man. I’m sorry that—”

“No, Tommy. You did everything you could. You shouldn’t apologize to me.”

Tommy smiles, “Okay.”

----------

“Schlatt.”

“You shouldn’t be here, Wilbur.”

“What happened, Schlatt?”

“Just... Stay the hell away from me Wilbur.”

“I don’t remember anything.”

“Oh boo hoo, you think I care?”

“What happened to us, Schlatt?”

“...”

“Schlatt.”

“What the hell do you want now, Wilbur?”

“I want us to be okay.”

“That isn’t possible.”

“We can make it possible.”

“You should hate me.”

“I should.”

“Then why are you still here?”

“Because you’re my best friend.”

“...”

“I’d like to be friends again... we can try again... okay?”

Schlatt gives in, “Okay.”

----------

They’ll be okay.

~~~~~~~~~~

What? A hurt/comfort fic whutt that’s new. Lol I couldn’t just write angst for this particular prompt. So have a hurt/comfort fic. Hope you guys enjoyed this since my writing time has been cut short by school.

Also, I asked my friend to read this and this was what happened:

Him: I hate you. The heart - that I didn’t know I had - hurts.

So... Just broke a heartless man’s heart. Feeling Good :D.

Anyway, bye bye!

[sanghyukstattoos]

Two hugs

Characters: Hwiyoung I Kim Youngkyun x Reader x Kang Chani 

Genre: Fluff

Words: 1483

Summary: Having a terrible day, you couldn’t stop the tears from flowing when you got home, alarming both your boyfriends so naturally, they teamed up to comfort you and lighten the atmosphere.

A/N:  Two in one day! I was thinking of a fluff for both of them but separately and just thought to myself, ‘’Both?’’ *bright smile*  

All the work that you'd done in three months (which included staying up late every other night) had disappeared in a matter of seconds. As you had gone to save it, the Internet glitched and only a quarter of everything that you had actually written had gotten saved. With the internet down, you couldn't comprehend what had truly happened, freezing as you stared at your workspace and you could distinctly remember thinking, "Oh my god, I can always get it back right?" over and over again but funnily enough, you couldn't and you had known it.

You denied what had occurred and continued other work, however throughout the day, the thought of the deleted draft lingered at the back of your mind. Contacting your IT office, you waited for their response but you were only met with "unfortunately...". In some sort of daze when you had written all of that, it hurt knowing that it would only take more time for you to create that atmosphere all over again. You had taken a walk outside however, the moment you walked back through the door, your mind split in half trying to organise all the work you had to do and when exactly to do it.

At lunch, no one had any solutions- mainly because there weren’t that many to begin with but they were sympathetic and also shared stories of their own despair at deleting something that they had worked incredibly hard for. Grateful for not being the only one, you were able to laugh it off and pass time and settle with other pieces of work for the rest of the day. Getting off the train, you were met with the chilly, cold air that nipped at the exposed parts of your skin. Your feet hit the ground harder as the reality of your exhaustion set in, taking it an entire journey to realise how much you desired the warmth of your two boyfriends all day.

Chani opened the door for you, standing there in his jumper and joggers, you wrapped your arms around him, craving the hidden reserve of affection that he had always had for you. His soft and warm lips from staying in pressed against your cheek, the tenderness making you smile at him. Eyes full of love, he asked, "How was your day?" and his question immediately bought back memories of your day at work, where you struggled with the wrestling mess of missing work on your desk. "It was okay, I guess" you casually replied, sighing as you took off your jacket and shoes, looking away from his concerned eyes. "Was it hard?" he questioned and you nodded, heart sinking to the bottom of your stomach, holding your tears back so that he wouldn't see you cry.

He grabbed your hand and walked you to the sofa, where Hwi was sitting and hearing your footsteps, he greeted you with bright, shining eyes and that adorable gummy smile. Sitting you down, he walked into the kitchen while you hugged Hwi, laying your head on his chest, taking a deep, shallow breath to calm yourself down. Hearing you, he raised his eyebrows and pushed the hair out of your face, he asked, "Did you have a tiring day?". You nodded but he persisted, "Tell me about your day", smiling as he poked your side, waiting for a reply. You squirmed but the tears flew softly and silently, staining his oversized hoodie. 

Looking up at him, he felt alarmed seeing your tears but you shook your head saying, "I'm okay- it's okay, don't worry" but he did worry. Whenever you came home after a tough day, you found ways to be optimistic but it seemed as if something triggered your pile of stress for you to break down in such a manner. Chani had walked out of the kitchen with a warm glass of water in his hand and a bowl of food, but stilled when Hwi met his eyes with a concerned look on his face that indicated that you weren't feeling okay. Setting the stuff down on the coffee table, he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into his embrace where you fisted your hands in hoodie and let out sobs, feeling absolutely helpless. 

From behind, Hwi put his laptop down and held your suit jacket, allowing you to take it off. You didn't want them to see you cry so you pushed away how hungry you felt and just let Chani's body heat surround you while he rubbed your back as Hwi grasped the back of your head, rubbing in soothing motions.

"Hey, look at me" Chani spoke, lifting your head to look into your eyes, laughing a little at your adorable pout that you had when you cried at how terribly unfair things were. You smiled a little as he continued saying, "Speak to us, it's okay to cry so just let it out but you have to find a solution for it, okay?" and you nodded. Looking at Hwi, he blinked in agreement as Hwi spoke up, "Let's go" and he lifted you up by your arms, pulling you off the sofa and allowing you to wrap your legs around his waist as he carried you to the bedroom. Chani followed suit walking half to the kitchen to prepare an alternate set of food for you. 

Holding on to Hwi, you hid in the crook of his neck until you had to let go as he laid you on the bed, waking over to the closet to get you a change of clothes. Slipping out of your work clothes, you threw them in the laundry basket and wore the fresh pair, watching as Hwi laid down next to you to envelop you in a hug. You hugged him back just as tight, appreciating the fact that he was here, by your side. Hearing Chani enter the room a few seconds later, he set down the mug of hot water and salted- caramel walnut bread, laying on the other side, snuggling into the crook of your neck and inhaling your perfume. 

You started your story with a heavy sigh, pondering over the events of the day and the potential after-effects that this one small problem would have. If your boss wanted to know what happened, you would tell the truth but confrontation with the reality of all your hard work going to waste clouded your mind. They listened carefully and when you had finished, they gave their thoughts which made you content. It also took your own version of the events to realise that such things happened and if this was the way of life, then you had to pick up and move on.

Sandwiched in between Hwiyoung and Chani, you could feel their warmth surrounding you on both sides. Hwiyoung’s hand delicately grasped the back of your head, running his hands through your hair, while Chani rubbed your hip in circles as he stared at your almost tired form. Pressing a kiss to your cheek, Hwi whispered, "Babe, are you feeling better now?" causing Chani to look at you as if he were asking the same question. Squeezing your eyes to keep them open, you nodded, murmuring "yea, I guess". With concerned eyes, he looked at Hwi who shared the same look but shrugged, not knowing exactly how you were feeling.

Taking in a deep breath, you stilled the reflection of the same thought in your mind of how you had messed up and only made things harder for yourself. Self- desecrating, you pushed them aside deciding that you would deal with them later. Chani's voice brought you out of the corners from your thoughts, "Are you hungry?" and you turned to face him, slowly nodding, vision blurry from the tears clouding your eyes. As a stray tear rolled down your cheek, you turned back to face Hwi who placed a kiss on your forehead, the stress seeping from your body almost immediately.

Sitting up, he pulled the two of you towards the headboard as Chani handed you the mug of hot water, that you gently took a sip from as they traced your reaction. Drops of warm water clenched your throat and hydrated you, feeling the parchedness leave, replaced by a better feeling. "Thank you, I'm feeling slightly better now" looking at the two of them and you swore they sighed in relief even though it wasn't visible because a blink and you could've missed it. A small smile graced your face as you snuggled into Hwi's embrace while eating a little piece of the bread, stomach grumbling.

‘‘Should probably eat some real food huh?’‘ Chani chuckled and you laughed, asking him, ‘’Why’d you switch the food?’‘.

‘‘I thought that we were going to be here for much longer’‘, the bluntness bringing a smile to your face as Hwi smiled with you. 

[laryna6]

One of those ‘A Christmas Carol’-based fics with Saotome Eiji.

Kyousuke’s dad appearing warning of the demons of the Sanzu river and the measuring of karma that awaits the dead, and Saotome going ‘I must have fallen asleep/that’s a foreign Buddhist thing’ because of the... heavy pushing of a... propagandized version of Shinto as part of Japanese nationalism building up to WWII.

Instead of Christmas it’s Obon (a festival of Buddist/Confucian origin) ofc.

To fit with ‘the idea that people have to earn the right to live is effed up’ from the original, perhaps as a child he was sent to an orphanage bc his family couldn’t feed him? The additional damage of not knowing who your ancestors were in a culture practicing ancestor worship.

Other students of psychic research inviting him to hang out at the university but he wanted to get an officer position in the army, so needing to avoid undesirable elements.

Saotome’s present day obon, Kyousuke who was raised in China being taught about Shinto because as a half-Chinese person on top of an esper in an era of nationalism... they worry about the kid and he might be safer if he do all the ‘I am a loyal subject of the emperor’ signaling. Two of the espers in the unit canonically come from traditional priesthood families and have OPINIONS about what these motherfucking nationalists are doing to corrupt and twist everyone’s spirituality and traditions and their sense of connection to their families and their people and the land. Making shinto priests government officials?!

Saotome going they’re not proper LoyalTM to the army and Japan

Spirit #2 going ‘was the army ever loyal to them?’

Fujiko and her father discussing how their family is nobility and the need for the nobiiity to give up power and instead bring about democracy if Japan was going to escape being conquered and exploited by imperialists like the countries around them.

Fujiko going ‘but the warrior classes all got positions in the military, and now we’re a military dictatorship and Japan has just become one more imperialist power, it’s disgusting and her father going absolutely, and discussion of duty to their ancestors and their country foreshadowing Fujiko making a choice that according to traditional morality and the noble code of conduct was ABSOLUTELY UNACCEPTABLY HORRIBLY WRONG to the point of disgracing her entire family line because what kind of people could have produced a traitor like that... but because of it in the modern day Japan is the second least awful country in how it treats espers.

Then spirit #3, and Saotome going ‘I’ve seen the precogs, espers going to war with normals, Kyousuke betraying the country/me to serve a queen’

And then it’s the younger queen and two other girls going ‘Minamoto we want to go to a festival with you’ while a harried man basically shoos them out the door with a broom and goes ‘go! Your families want to see you! Here are your boxed lunches and snacks for the trip’ and the girls are espers who use their powers to get to their normal families. the queen and her big sister get in a wrestling match over the cookies and only belatedly realize their mom’s eaten them all while commentating while they dress for the festival. another girl and her normal father engage in some police brutality towards festival pickpockets as bonding. the third girl, at least, is traditional and proper even if she’s performing a ceremony that comes from non-Japanese origins (and yet... it’s still a tradition that ties them to their ancestors and the gods and who they are, and Shinto says that tradition is sacred, it doesn’t say that traditions that first came from outside aren’t sacred)

The man is following his mother around as she chatters with everyone and gets up to shenanigans at the festival. ‘Father couldn’t make it again’ mentioning a grandmother who used to stay with him at these. Looking up at the sparks rise above the fire to send the dead home, lonely even though he’s surrounded by people in his hometown... and then he gets tackled by the three girls demanding he take photos with them while they’re all in kimonos

And then it switches to someone announcing That Bastard is finally dead. Far from the land he was born, with no one in the country he served who cares to claim his body ‘so we should send someone to pretend to be a relative’ and someone declaring that this is now a formal meeting because while obviously they all want to desecrate his grave, they are going to do it in an organized fashion that reflects the gravity of his crimes and pays respects to his innocent victims and continuing victims of that bastard’s legacy of murder and hatred. Eggs and toilet paper are not up for discussion is said with a pointed look at another man, who whines ‘big bro!’

This is the most diverse group of people Saotome has ever seen, people from all over the world united in their hatred of someone who gets referred to with several different languages’ curse words.

And then someone walks in and goes ‘here you are, okay, what are you up to? I’ve been raising kids for half a century, I know that when you’re all quiet and busy somewhere you’re up to no good’ and it’s Kyousuke. The guy who went ‘big bro’ gets his ear twisted, and whines ‘dad!’

It’s revealed that ‘that bastard’ is someone who hurt Kyousuke, who they’re protective of like the unit is (he still looks so young...) but when he gets it out of them he’s no! and there is a whine of ‘dad! He shot you!’ ‘I know’ *bullet scar revealed* ‘I’m the one he shot, so I get to decide what to do with him’

Kyousuke lifting away a sheet to reveal a body old and twisted and crippled. And Saotome’s. Kyousuke is blank an solemn... and sad.

Going through the Shinsosai funeral rites, all foreign Buddhist influences removed as he would have wanted, and maybe there’s a reason the people of Japan for centuries were happy to have Buddhists to help them usher their families into the next world, because he can see the weight of the kegare on him, how Kyousuke mourns him, is the only one who mourns him. Eventually a woman who treats Kyousuke as both an embarrassing younger brother and as a respected father comes to help, to cheer him up, even though she despises Saotome too, for hurting him.

A picture of the unit, in Kyousuke’s family shrine. ‘Now everyone in this photograph but Fujiko is dead... He took my family from me, but he, too, was family.’

Then he grabbed the woman, teleported, and dragged her down with him into the ocean for purification.

...then Kyousuke goes to bully the man from before, who is arguing with the three girls about how yes, they are sleepy, Kaoru nearly flew them into the ground getting home, while making them all tea before he shoves them into their bedroom. When he turns around Kyousuke has stolen the cup that was supposed to be for him, and the man at first automatically raises his hackles, but then looks sympathetic.

Kyousuke looks away, annoyed and pouting, at sympathy from this person.

‘...If I try to comfort you you’re going to shove my head in the toilet again,’ the man says, getting himself another cup of tea.

‘Absolutely’ Kyousuke agrees.

Silence, and eventually Kyousuke says, ‘at first I thought you were his reincarnation, even though he would have been offended at the idea of him reincarnating. Then I found he was with the Comericans, had been since the war, and I thought, it would have been better if he was you. Not for the Queen. But for him. If I hadn’t failed to avenge my comrades back then, he could have moved on to a better life or the otherworld. Not been forced to live on a failure and a pawn in a foreign land, unable to return home. He was a proud man.’ Looking down at his tea, ‘when I met him again, he asked me to kill him.’

‘..in the precog, I know there’s a nuke on the way when I shoot Kaoru,’ the man says, and now Saotome knows where he’s seen him. ‘even though I want to kill her so she can’t leave again and I want it enough to kill her before she stops that nuke from destroying Tokyo, I still know that I have to die for this. I’m just getting the order wrong. I should die before I do that. Having to live with what I do in that precog would be a fate worse than death.’

‘That was why I erased his memories that day. He... there was no point in him continuing to suffer. None of us would have wanted that for him. I thought... didn’t he know our feelings? That we were loyal to him, that we didn’t mind dying for him? And then I saw that he truly didn’t recognize our feelings. Because he didn’t know what it looked like, to recognize when people truly cared for him. But he cared for us, and so when he thought that espers would turn against normals, that it was impossible for us to ever care for him... Those damn precogs. They broke his heart before he put a bullet through mine.’

‘Maybe... next obon?’

a shake of the head. ‘he thought it was too foreign. It’s fine, our comrades will beat sense into him in the afterlife.’ Kyousuke drank the rest of his tea.

‘..Some of the parts of the traditional ceremony... PANDRA loves you, but I think that would have made it hard to force them to cooperate,’ the man said. “I don’t want to hear words honoring him either, but you like to do things I don’t want.’

‘What, are you going to give me condolences for his loss?”

‘I can honestly say that I am very sorry he’s dead, because it means I will never get to strangle him,’ the man vigorously throttled the air, going from kind and patient to a man more than capable of shooting a young woman in love with him, and back, ‘from turning you from such a sweet, good little kid into the godawful brat I have had to deal with.’

Kyousuke snorted.

“Do you want another cup of tea, or a cup of milk?”

“Milk.” Kyousuke said, and when the man was on his way to open a white door, he began, “Utsumi-san said that he graduated first in his class, but he had no family and no background. The esper unit was his proposal, so when he told us that we could serve our country and be accepted, he wagered his own future on the chance that ours could be happy. Utsumi said later that he never trusted Saotome-Taicho, because he knew he didn’t truly care for us. I asked once why he didn’t warn us, if he knew that, but... Utsumi knew his heart, so he knew that Saotome-taicho also was different, was desperately wishing to prove he was valuable enough to accept. He knew what bait to dangle before us because it was the exact same lure that led him to the army. We all wanted him to have that happy future, along with us.’