#but now. god it’s so much nicer to let go of the urge to chase the feeling of being desired

[lycan-subscribe]

it’s interesting because like. i don’t Yearn for a relationship in quite the same way i used to when i was younger - back then it was about validation, about the ingrained belief that i wasn’t good enough unless i had someone around to express desire for me. but after a lot of hard work and time and maturing, i’ve gotten to this genuine place of self love where i’m no longer looking for anyone’s validation except my own. and i love being who i am. so i’m no longer painfully desperate to have someone else confirm that i’m desirable because i already desire myself and that’s what i’ve truly been wanting this whole time.

that being said, i’m in no rush at all to be in a relationship, but i do still sometimes daydream about how nice it’d be to have someone (or multiple someones…?) who i could bring into the fold of my life, and to be brought into theirs. it’s a healthier, less desperate, more meaningful type of want, where it’s about equals coming together to love each other instead of chasing a type of validation that isn’t healthy

[kei-maki]

Carstober Day 6: Nightmare

Warning: Kind of suicidal thoughts?, also hurt no comfort, night terrors

As the pool of a dreamless, comfortable darkness faded away and revealed the filtered light that seeped through the darkened clouds of London’s skies. An uncontrollable- and almost primal- fear seized McQueen’s heart as he knew, even subconsciously, the events that were to unfold.

Immediately, his chest felt heavy with guilt as he beheld the sight of his best friend- standing in the middle of the street as he urged everyone in the pits to evacuate. That night in Tokyo… it had haunted him ever since Mater had been declared missing. That’s why he couldn’t help but jump out of his car without thinking and took steps toward him as he tried to tell him he was sorry, only to feel his heart break as he saw the other back away in terror. Why was he trying to get away? That guilt and fear of losing him again was overwhelming now, and it’s what drove him to chase his best friend down the streets of the city. He wasn’t going to leave him again. Not ever. He wouldn’t let it happen.

His heart pounded to the beat at which he chased him, a rising crescendo he couldn’t be bothered to keep further track of in that moment.

That fear only increased after he saw the bomb strapped to Mater’s chest, almost paralyzing him as he started spouting nonsense he couldn’t begin to dissect right now.

The light from the sun, even if blocked by the endless clouds in the sky, was too bright. His chest heaved as movement rushed by in blurs of color. Was he still running? He wasn’t sure anymore as his body grew numb as he saw the clock getting closer and closer to zero. They were surrounded by people too, all of them yelling and bolting in different directions- all in a panicked frenzy as they saw their doom approaching as well.

The beating of the harsh drum in his ears grew louder and louder- or was it perhaps Big Ben ringing?- until it was absolutely unbearable.

How did this happen? Was it a sick karma for all the stuff he had said to Mater? He knew he should’ve probably been nicer about it, but wasn’t he still right in his points for having been upset? Maybe not. Maybe this was all his fault. Maybe they were all going to die because of him.

It was too much. Everything was too much. He felt as if he could both comprehend everything and nothing. McQueen grabbed his head and screwed his eyes shut as the robot voice of the bomb announced those final seconds.

5

4

3

2

1

…

Lightning let out an ear piercing scream as he bolted out of bed, nearly launching himself across the room.

His heart still begged him release from his ribcage, but it wasn’t as intense as it had been in the terrors of his mind. Tears filled eyes scanned the room he was in, a need to assure himself he was fine even if he knew he wasn’t.

He was alive. He wasn’t going to die. At least not now.

He buried his face in his knees as he curled himself into a ball, the only thing helping to ground him being the soft fabric of his sheets and pajamas.

God.

He was the worst.

He put everyone he’d loved in danger, all because of his stupid guilt.

He didn’t deserve them, didn’t deserve this life he’d been gifted to share with them.

They deserved so much better.

They didn’t need someone who now viewed his waking life like the nightmares that haunted him since the World Grand Prix had ended. He didn’t need to weigh them down like that.

McQueen’s arms shook as he began to properly cry, crying himself through the rest of the night so as to both fall asleep again.

Because if he did he didn’t know if he could take it.

Hope you enjoyed! :)

Also tagging @secretly-larry-daley so you can see this immediately

[happyk44]

Zeus being like "we need to kill our living children because prophecy" and Hades is just "fuck you" and defies Nico and Bianca instead. Bianca is seething when she sees little Percy, Annabeth, and Grover sneak into the Underworld. She's spent way too much time with Zagreus.

But Nico is curious. He thinks the little heroes are cute. Watches them succeed to get around Cerberus. Watches one of them suddenly flying towards the pit. The other two are panicking.

Poor kids, he thinks, and he touches down in front of them. Catches the satyr with one hand. He yanks away, determined to get to the pit but Nico is an unmoving as a dead man. Just stuck to the ground and peeling off his wild shoes with ease. The satyr is lowered gently to the ground. Nico melts the shoes into shadows.

"You look hungry," he says.

They all stare at him. Then scamper into a little clustered triad. The girl nudges the boy and he huffs before clearing his throat.

"Um, Lord Hades-"

Nico's lip twitches. "I am not my father, little demigod. Do you wish to speak with him?" The boy's soul is untamed waves and a hurricane. "Ah. My cousin." He pauses. Gives it a think. "Perseus, right?"

The kid goes a little pink around his cheeks. Flushes down to throat and up through his ears. "Uh, yeah. Um. It's Percy." He blinks. Clears his throat. "Percy Jackson."

Nico thinks about it. "I think I'll just say Perseus, if you don't mind. I quite like it as a name. Strong. Heroic."

"Yeah, sure," Percy says quickly. His soul is a sea of panic. Tinged red around its edges. Tastes syrupy sweet at the back of Nico's throat. "You- I-"

The girl saves him. "We would like to seek an audience with Lord Hades. If we can." After a beat, she tacks on a tinny, "Please."

"Annabeth Chase," Nico says. She stiffens, eyes going big. "Athena's child." He glances over to the satyr. "Grover Underwood. Cute name. Fits you." Grover stammers before thanking him quietly. "My sister is with my father now. I'll see if I can steer her away. She's not always the best company to have when speaking with Papa. Especially with what is going on now."

The kids twitch and he stifles the urge to giggle.

The ground melts beneath them. They gasp aloud as earth turns to obsidian tile. His room is clean and tidy. Filled to the brim with silly junk throughout history. Trinkets and toys he's picked up from his travels too.

"You can wait here," he says. And he disappears without another word.

It takes longer than it should, to steer Bianca out of the way. Hades is no help. Bemused all the while. Nico tries to get him to take a nicer stance, but he's stubborn. Normally so is Nico, but he can't imagine the trio in his bedroom are taking his absence easily, so he caves and let's his father being as intimidating as he wants.

Personally, Nico can't see it. His father is his father. Whether he's twenty-feet tall with black eyes and a crown of nightmares, or six foot six with warm hands and smiles.

"Be nice, Papa," he says as he guides the children into the throne room.

Hades grunts and glares down at his nephew. Nico sighs and stands in the back. They are children. Perhaps if they were older he'd care less. But he remembers what it is to be twelve years old and staring at a god that wished you were dead an unbreathing.

It is haunting and hurting.

They speak and it's confusing. The children are lost with every word his father speaks. His father is getting more and more annoyed with every word they speak.

No one is lying, but no one has the reality of the situation at hand. Nico strides forwards, out of the shadows. Hades's eyes are angry, but he quiets. He does not like to shout in front of Nico. Not when the anger rockets back at Nico's soul like a mirror and leaves him winded. The trio goes silent.

He slides his hands through the flimsy material of the backpack. Electricity crackles at his skin. He flinches and steps back.

Percy is confused. His soul is a crashing thing, drowning his mind in panic untold. Annabeth is horrified. Her soul is sputtering. There is no logic to this. No facts to back up what she has discovered. She is unsure, for the first time in her life. Grover is on the verge of fainting.

"He didn't know," Nico says. "None of them did."

Hades scoffs, but let's Nico flip through the pages of their souls like a history book. Ares and the backpack. But that is not possible. He cannot touch his father's bolt, or Hades's helm. Not without permission and certainly not with his own bare hands. Further back, there is a face. Scarred and angry. He is giving Percy the shoes.

Grover takes them when his back is turned.

Smart creature, Nico thinks.

He lets goes and the trio breathes.

"There is a boy," he says. "I'll need to look at him, but I feel he has orchestrated this mess."

Hades's lips curl. He is unhappy. He wanted to blast his nephew to pieces and lock the others up for their troubles in bringing him along.

"You have got to stop talking to Bianca," Nico huffs. "Give me a day. I will head to camp-"

"No," Hades says.

Everything topples downhill. The Furies descend. Skeletons take charge. Shadows whip and hiss like volatile snakes.

Nico blinks and they are gone. Sunny grass, untouched by darkness. There's the crashing of the waves behind him. The kids are gasping. Nico steadies their ever-changing souls, collisions of nauseous colours.

"My mom," Percy gasps. His voice is on the edge of tears.

Nico stares at him. Then presses a cold hand to his shoulder. "She will be fine. My father knows what it is to have a mother lost to their child. She is a guest, although unwilling. No harm shall come to her."

"How-" Annabeth presses small hands to her face. "The bolt- how-"

"Luke Castellan," Nico says. "Is he a kind boy?"

Annabeth twitches, stares up at him, frustrated, confused. Grover answers in her stead. "He's a good person."

"Hmm." Nico turns to see his cousin waiting for them on the sand. "Even good people can be turned to do terrible things. Many people do terrible things in the name of good."

Percys soul gardens when he catches sight of their shared cousin. Ares's demeanour does nothing for Nico. But it fills the crevices of Percy's misery with boiling rage. Nico squeezes along his shoulder. Mats his soul with a softening quell.

"Breathe," he says. Ares approaches. Too calm. Too steady. The people around him scatter with every step. "Ares, you are an idiot." Dreams are awash in his soul. He is faintly pressed behind a matte wall. He laughs, carefree, amused. But behind that wall, his truer self is screaming. "I much prefer it when my sisters bully you. Rather than whoever is doing so now. Did you not notice the memories in your head turned awry?"

He scoffs. They banter. Nico lets Percy, angry and distressed at being played with, take the fight. He remembers the ways he wished his father would let him knock their family down a peg. When his siblings were blasted apart miles away in another state. His mother electrocuted and turned to ash in front of his very eyes.

As Ares lay panting on the sand, Nico takes a hold of his soul and clears the wall away.

"Next time stay vigilant. What would your mother think of you working with her father in this way?" He flicks the other god's forehead and watches him rocket down into the earth. The kids stare at him. Awed. Confused. Percy is wet and breathing hard, pink around his ears.

"You should return the bolt," Nico says. The wind sweeps. "In the meantime, this prophecy has waited far too long to pass." He sighs. "It should've been me. Or my sister. Someone long before your time, Perseus."

Nico pats his head and he squeaks. It's adorable.

"I will assist where I can," he says. He presses a token into Percy's hand. The other two jolt as similiar beads tuck into the flat of their palms. "Just give me a call."

The earth gives out beneath their feet and they disappear into sand and darkness. Nico runs his wrists over one another and glances up to the mortals pooling around the beach. Police officers looking mystified at the sudden absence of the two players in their so-called gun fight.

He will string a tale into their cores, a belief so certain no one can dash it away. And then he will retire to his father's side just as he did when he was ten years old, the stains of his mother's death lingering on his skin.

Certainly the three of them will make use of his tokens in due time. He will wait for them to do so.

And then he will help.

[velvett-tearss]

Black Tea & Blushes — L. Ackerman

summary: The two of you never got along, but there were times that even fire and ice made a perfect pair.

warnings: cursing, no spoilers for anything past early s1, Levi’s a little shit at first (surprise, surprise), mentions of blood (they’re fighting titans :-) lol) gn!reader (no pronouns mentioned)

genre: semi-canonverse, fluff, enemies to lovers (?)

word count: 3.3k

a/n: this was very self-indulgent lmao, sorry if it’s a bit messy 😭, <Hange, Connie & Sasha3 make an appearance bc I love them and you should too, hope you enjoy it <3

"Couldn't you have gotten a cadet to do this?"

You raised a sharp brow at the man, trying to keep yourself from flipping his desk over. "Would you have yelled at them like you just yelled at me?"

The man's grey eyes didn’t meet yours, but there was a scowl on his face. Despite his steely eyes, he didn't say anything back. Instead, he pursed his lips and turned back to continue his paperwork.

You huffed in an attempt to ground yourself after being yelled at for the past two minutes. You took a sip from your own cup of the tea you had prepared for him, letting yourself savor the taste.

     "I don't understand." you said, tasting the earthy, black tea. "You said it was too cold last time, so I made sure it was extra warm. What's wrong with it? Is it too sour for you? I only added a few drops of lemon this time."

Levi remained silent, but you stood your ground, tapping your boot against the pavemented floor as you waited at his desk for an answer. You wouldn't let him win, not this time. Day after day, it seemed like he only grew ruder and ruder.

Your dislike for Levi Ackerman started the day you met him. He was still just a soldier when you joined the Survey Corp, and it wasn't long after that he become Captain.

He was mean, and he never seemed to care about anything, but God forbid you make a reckless move out in the field. It was as if all hell broke loose if you used a bit too much gas when slicing the nape of a Titan's neck.

     "Not everyone is Humanity's Strongest." you had spat at him when he scolded you on the way back to the walls. That only earned you a glare, seeing as Hange managed to secure your safety. If it weren't for them, you were certain you would've gotten stuck with stable duty for a month's end.

     You were glad he was nice to them, at least.

     At some point, you got promoted to Captain as well. One would think that since you shared the same rank, he would grow warmer to you, but that was another one of your mistakes.

     Everything about him rubbed you the wrong way, from his disagreeable manners to his awful way of speaking to soldiers. And, it was your disdain for him that got you stuck in this mess.

"A cadet could've done this." Levi stated again; you felt like you were being patronized. He raised a brow at you, holding the teacup in his hand. "A cadet could’ve made better tea than you.”

"Obviously not, Captain." you threw back sourly, snatching the cup from his hand. "A cadet could not have done this because if I hadn't interfered two weeks ago, who knows what you would've done to the poor man. And, all he did was make your tea wrong!”

Levi blinked at you, appearing bored with your conversation. "If you hadn't interfered, that soldier would be back with those good for nothing Military Police Officers doing what they're best at."

     You gritted your teeth. "And, what are they good for, Captain Ackerman?”

     His brow twitched slightly. “Absolutely nothing."

You let out a bitter laugh, placing the white ceramic teacups back on the tray you had brought in. "Now that you say it out loud, that reminds me a lot of someone I know."

     "What an awful way to talk about yourself.” Levi threw back with ease.

     The urge to roll your eyes at him was weighing on you, but you were stronger than the immaturity he seemed to bring out in you. "Captain, you must be growing old if you've already forgotten we're the same rank."

     Your decision of keeping yourself calm in his presence payed to be of use when you noticed the slight pause in his pen strokes at your words.

     But, you were well aware of how trustworthy Levi was in the sense that you knew he could always come back with something even worse than what he's told you before.

      "If you were of any use, you would know what's wrong with your tea. I'm sure even King Fritz could tell good tea from awful tea, and he's the most useless of them all." Levi told you, pen moving over the papers in front of him swiftly.

     "He could probably also tell a grown man from a spoiled brat," you told him, taking the tray with you as you left his office. "But, you make even that task seem impossible."

     You had to stop the triumphant grin from growing on your face when you heard his faint scoff from the other side of the wooden door.

Even if you managed to snag the last word of that argument, it didn’t feel as good as it usually did. The only reason you involved yourself in Levi Ackerman’s nightly tea was because 1) you didn’t like the way he spoke to the poor soldier who got stuck with job of handling it, and 2) Erwin asked that you try and be a bit nicer to your fellow captain.

You only did it to keep your job, really, and you would never let your Commander think less of you, even if he did favor Levi. Even Hange had tried to coax you into not letting The Ackerman’s sharp tongue get to you, but that didn’t seem to work.

Levi and you would never be friends, if that’s what Erwin meant when he pulled you aside at supper a few nights before. It was a lie to say you didn’t admire the man’s impressive skills, because you did.

But, admiration and respect were two separate things.

The two of you were jagged edges of broken glass that didn’t fit together, and that was perfectly fine. You didn’t mind being Levi being a sharp piece of glass, just as long as he kept his corners to himself and far from you.

Erwin, as observant as usual, caught on to the solution to your problem, and he even made sure you and Levi would rarely ever cross paths when the Scouts were out on an expedition. The two of you worked on opposite sides of the formation.

The only time you would ever work together would be if there were no other options, but both of you were reliable in your own senses: him with his... whatever he called it, and you with your wits.

You didn't mind being farthest from him, and if it were up to you, you'd go even farther.

     “Hey, you got new glasses.” you stated, noticing the new pair of brown frames that Hange wore the morning as the Scouts waited for the signal to begin the expedition.

“Oh, don’t remind me.” they said with a frown, holding the glasses in their hands. “Last night, Moblit and I were doing some research, and someone must’ve stolen my glasses because I couldn’t find them this morning.”

“Stole? Isn’t that a big accusation?”

They let out a hearty laugh. “It is! That’s why I’m saying it!” Hange replied, golden eyes widened at you in exasperation. “I’ve been stuck with these, and they’re too big for my face. All they do is fall off.”

“So maybe don’t wear them?” you wondered as you caught a glimpse of the dark head of hair you knew too well. “What’ll you do if you lose them out in the field? Better safe than sorry.”

“I wish, but I’m as blind as a bat without them.” Hange reasoned with a sigh before quickly composing themselves. “But, now that you mention it, I never did mind a challenge.”

The smirk growing on their face was one you didn’t quite like. Before you could talk some sense into them (if that were even possible) the signal went off to begin the mission.

They gave a wide smile and a thumbs up as a good luck token. "Don’t do anything crazy!” you called out when the two of you parted ways, taking your squad with you. “I mean it, Hange!”

Hange waved you off, charging in faster in their horse. It was up to poor Moblit to chase right after them.

Your squad remained close together for the majority of the mission. There wasn't much to do on your end of things, which was a relief. At some point, you decided to stop for a quick break before pushing forward.

If you were able to see five mintues into the future, you would never have let your squad talk you into taking a lunch break. Just as you were relaxing a bit, there was an Abnormal coming from the thick trees.

Your sense of smell wasn't as skilled as Miche, and if it weren't for one of the younger cadets on your squad who had a keen sense of hearing, you all would've been Titan food.

It didn't take long for you to spring into action, your squad following suit. You made sure to use the plans Erwin had issued out on previous Scout meetings.

When the Abnormal finally made it to where you and your squad stopped, the beastly creature managed to catch one of your soldiers in midair. As the young boy was raised in the air, his stomach couldn't contain his recent lunch.

Gravity works in wonders, you thought when his earlier lunch fell onto you with a splat! You couldn't blame the poor boy; it was better upstairs than downstairs. As terrible a feeling it was to have chunky vomit all over you, you knew it would be as even worse feeling if the boy died under your care.

Your squad got to him before any damage was permanent, at least physically. When the killing blow was done, you tended to your soldier. He muttered out apologies for having thrown up on you, but you were merely in the line of fire.

"It's okay, Connie." you reassured him after pulling off your green cape that had been soiled in aid to shield you. “I’d rather it be your lunch on me than your organs.”

You ordered that he ride with your other cadet, Sasha. He let out a pained laugh at your words, leaning against her on her horse. She scolded him for “wasting so much food,” to which lead to their silly banter, which you didn’t mind as long as they were safe.

     As unfortunate as it was, that incident wasn't the last of it. There wasn't much time between Connie getting his ribs crushed by a Titan and the numerous amount of red flares that were being shot into the air.  The amount of red powder in the sky was enough to cast a shadow of worry over you.

     By the time your squad made it to where the red flares had been signaled, it was a mess. Abnormal and Pure Titans were ambushing the rest of whatever was left of the Survey Corp. Your squad wasted no time in following your orders as you made a beeline for the trees where a group of Abnormals were huddled together.

     When you finally got a good look at the scene in the forest, your sight was met with Titan smoke and blood of fallen comrades. It was a disaster, as it always was. But you knew, where there was smoke, there was definitely fire.

And, that fire was Humanity’s Strongest Soldier.

He looked ablaze, nothing but a flash in the distance. Slicing Titan limbs as if they were merely flowers in his way, Levi Ackerman was kicking ass. It was in moments like this — where he looked like the answer to all the prayers of the people inside the walls — that you wondered if you truly hated him all along.

“Section Commander!” Moblit cried, chasing after Hange as they swung on the highest tree of the forest. It seemed as though they forgot all about how loose their glasses were as they did a number of twirls in the air. His voice was enough to snap you out of your trance and assist your fellow comrades.

You managed to fight off three Pure Titans and two Abnormals for what seemed like forever. It might’ve been even worse if not for Connie Springer’s lunch all over you that acted as Titan Repellant.

Perhaps you would tell Hange of your new discovery, but every time you managed to get close to them while fighting off the Titans, all they did was badger you with questions upon questions.

“Are you sure you haven’t you seen them?!” Hange cried for the fifth time, eyes squinted at you from their branch opposite you. Moblit was fighting off a creepy Abnormal with ugly teeth a few feet from you.

“No, I haven’t! And, didn’t I tell you your glasses would fall if you took them with you?!” you shouted back from your place on the tree before taking a breath to try to slice the neck of your second Pure Titan. “Go back to the wagon, Hange, before you get yourself killed!”

They huffed and puffed, but they let Moblit guide them to the wagon to wait until the rest of the Scouts could find a moment to retreat back to the walls.

After finally slicing the nape of your final Titan, you looked over to where you had last seen Levi. Only, he was nowhere to be found. A panic set in when you couldn’t find any sight of him.

“Captain?” you called out from your place on a tree branch where you were catching your breath. You squinted your eyes to get a farther look, but it didn’t help that much. “Captain Ackerman, are you there? Do you—”

But, that’s when you felt a jostle of wind hit your back. You turned quickly to see the dark-haired man swinging through the trees, holding an unconscious Oluo.

You followed him, figuring if you took his squad member off his hands that Levi would have a better chance of taking down more Titans. Maybe even with a man who weighed far more than himself in his hands, Levi could still have a better chance than you.

“Captain, I’ve got him. I’ll take—”

But, Levi wouldn’t budge. It was like he wasn’t listening to you, and you didn’t know if it was by choice or coincidence. You huffed and rushed quicker to help him in carrying Oluo.

Maybe it was just your luck, or maybe it was just his, but right before you managed to reach him, a Titan’s jaw came from below him, wide and ready for lunchtime.

There was nothing for him to do, not with his hands full. Surely he knew that from the way his grey eyes finally broke through from that awful void he’d placed you in, the one where all you ever got from him was scoldings and insults and cold stares that often made you wonder if he actually did hate you.

And, for the first time, you saw panic flash through his grey eyes, his life flash before his eyes.

“Levi!” you cried, using the rest of your ODM gear’s gas to catch up to him. You knew if he were to survive such an event, he would scold you for wasting your gas on an old lump like him.

But, for once, Levi had something to say about you that didn’t regard your incompetence to make decent tea or your recklessness that spurred you to use all your gas just to save him and the bullheaded, baboon by the name of Oluo.

It was your astonishing speed.

You got to the two men right before the great wide jaws of the Titan could snap closed and swallow the three of you for its meal, which Levi had to admit (but probably never would) was quite impressive.

“Shit!” you hissed out when the three of you landed on another tree branch. As quick as you got to the branch was as quick as Miche was to come and ensure your safety, slicing the Titan’s nape with ease.

Oluo was still unconscious and a little bloodied up and battered, but he was safe.

“What the hell were you thinking?!” Levi yelled, voice slightly hoarse from everything that had just happened. His hair was a mess, and you held back a laugh at the sight of him. “Why— why would you? I mean, what— and, why do you smell like—”

“A thank you is perfectly fine, Ackerman.” you coughed out, catching your breath from the overexertion you just forced yourself through. Carrying two grown men was tough, especially when it was between life or death. “As for the smell, one of my soldiers threw up on me.”

Levi blinked at you, his expression consisting of disgust and confusion. “What?”

“My soldier. He threw up on me earlier.”

“I heard you the first time.” he told you, blinking quickly as if it were going to grant him some clarity. You didn’t know if his confusion was from your act of saving him and his squad member or from not knowing what to say to you after.

He looked funny, with his hair that of a bird’s nest and his cheeks flushed pink.

“Did you hit your head on the way down?”

“W-what?”

“Your head? Did you hit it?”

“No, I-I’m fine.” he scrambled upright, finding purchase on the unconscious Oluo’s shin. Your eyes flickered to where his hand was placed, and he snatched it right off immediately, burning a deeper shade of pink.

“Oh.” you muttered, holding back a chuckle. There was no way Levi was without a concussion, not with the way he was acting all of a sudden: stuttering and turning pink on you. It was a wonder you caught up to him before he collapsed.

“Are you sure you’re okay, Captain?” you asked again, fixing your uniform before getting to your feet. You wobbled a bit; Levi raised a brow at you. “You look sick. Why don’t you sit in the injury wagon for a bit on the way back? Just in case.”

He waved you off, standing on his two feet as well. You didn’t want to cause a fight, not right after what had just happened and not outside the walls, so you decided to say nothing about his seeming concussion.

The two of you lifted Oluo off the ground, blood seeping from the side of the man’s mouth. “Is it his ribs? Was it an Abnormal? They were awful today.” you questioned, looking to Levi for answers.

“He bit his tongue, again, before ramming into a tree.” Levi told you, averting his gaze from you as he shifted the man against his shoulder for a better grip. “He said something f-fell from the sky.”

You nodded, letting yourself chuckle. “What could it’ve been? Bird shit?”

Levi shrugged at your words.

He was far too quiet for your liking. Maybe he did have a concussion. It wouldn’t be good if he rode back like that. Perhaps if you spoke to Erwin or Hange about it, one of them could convince Levi to get checked out once you got back to the walls.

The two of you managed to get back to the rest of the Scouts safely. You helped Levi placing Oluo in the wagon with the wounded and the fallen while everyone else was getting accounted for.

All the while, Hange was trying to persuade Erwin into letting them form a search party for their glasses that had fallen while they were swinging on the trees.

Though you were straining to listen to their conversation, you were more than certain that Erwin would never allow such a thing, but you had to admire Hange’s efforts, as fruitless as they were.

“Thank you.”

You snapped your head to Levi.

He refused to meet your gaze again, busying himself with readjusting his soldier’s cape. If not for the obvious step into uncharted territory between the two of you, you would’ve commented on the rosy blush he adorned.

Suddenly, you were overcome with a laughter, waving him off with your hand quickly. “I was just joking about that, Captain. Sorry, I don’t mean to laugh, but I’m just surprised you actually—”

He scoffed, the expression on his face shifting to one of impatience. “Don’t be a brat. Just take the compliment.” Levi huffed out, visibly annoyed with your chatter.

A look of shock overtook your face. “Oh, so you’re complimenting me? Why didn’t you just say so, then?”

“Oi, that’s not what I meant—”

“No, it’s fine. I heard you, loud and clear.” you interrupted, smiling widely at him. “You’re oh-so very welcome, Captain Ackerman, and if you ever need me to save your ass again, you know where to find me.”

Levi opted to say nothing back, merely shaking his head at you when you gave a lazy salute and started back to the other side of the formation where your horse and squad awaited you.

“Besides,” you shrugged, turning back for a moment to catch him looking at you. “Who else would teach me how to make tea?”

note: I don’t think I specified it, but Oluo was knocked unconscious bc some object (Hange’s glasses) fell from the sky lmao 🐸

[thepremedthatwrites]

Checkmate

request: hi! I love your writing! I'm wondering if you'd be open to writing a chess game between the reader x Edmund, that turns smutty or something like that? thanks!

warning: smut below the cut

“Checkmate!” the brunette exclaimed as he placed his knight in its spot, trapping my king.  

“Seriously Edmund, can’t you let me win at least once?” I complained as we moved to reset the board.

“But then you would be mad at me for going easy on you,” he pointed out.  I let out a sigh before moving one of my pawns two spaces ahead.  I rested my head against my hand as I watched Edmund, expecting him to move his own piece.  Instead, he smiled.  “I think I have an idea on how to make this game a bit more interesting.”  I raised an eyebrow.

“What’s your idea?”  I waited in silence, knowing I was either going to love or hate the idea.

“Why don’t we spice things up and play strip chess.”  The grin on his face widened.

“Strip chess?  What in the world is that?”

“It’s like strip poker.  Except it’s chess.  Each time a piece of yours is taken that isn’t a pawn, you have to take off an article of clothing.”

“How ridiculous,” I muttered, my face turning warm as I thought of stripping in front of Edmund.  

“Why?  Scared you’ll be the one to become naked?”  I looked into his eyes, his brown irises looking back with the same fire that was in mine.

“Fine, whatever Pevensie,” I said, looking away from his eyes as my heart raced in my chest.  I could feel his eyes still watch me as I focused my attention on the board.  “I just hope you’re wearing lots of layers.”

It wasn’t long until Edmund captured one of my rooks.  I let out a groan as Edmund let out a victorious laugh.  “Alright, (y/n).  Clothes off.”  I rolled my eyes as I pulled my shirt over my head.  My vision of him was shortly obscured by the red shirt before being returned to normal as I flung the piece of clothing away from me.  I was suddenly glad to be wearing one of my nicer bras as I felt Edmund’s eyes study the newly exposed skin.

“Stop being a creep Ed,” I said as I moved one of my pieces. 

“Sorry,” he muttered.  His response caught me by surprise as I had been expecting a witty comeback.  Instead, he focused his eyes on the game in front of us, his cheeks colored a light rose.  It wasn’t long until I captured his knight.

“Alright, Edmund.  Clothes off,” I said, repeating his words from earlier. 

“Very funny,” he said as he slowly unbuttoned his shirt.  I let out an impatient sigh.

“C’mon Ed.  We don’t have all day.”  He let out a chuckle, moving his fingers at a faster rate before the white button-up was off his body.  I had never seen Edmund shirtless before.  I had always known he was strong but I wasn’t aware of the abs that hid behind the fabric of his shirts.  His skin was tanned from the sun, most likely due to afternoons playing football.  

“Admiring the view?” Edmund chuckled, causing my face to heat up as I snapped my head back to the board.

“You wish,” I shot back, suddenly very interested in the game.  I studied the pieces in front of me as I attempted to slow my heart rate.  Luck must have been on my side as it wasn’t soon until I had captured Edmund’s rook.  “Let’s hope you didn’t wear your Care Bears boxers today,” I joked as Edmund stood up to take off his pants.  He started to unbuckle his belt and as he did, I couldn’t help but notice the butterflies in my stomach. 

I turned my attention to his face as he took off his belt and pulled down his pants.  He returned to his spot on the floor, his face filled with concentration before making his next move.  I tried to concentrate on the game but all I could focus on was the slight bulge visible in his black boxers.  “(Y/n),” he said, causing me to wake from my daze.

“Hm?” I replied, looking up to face him.  In his hand was my bishop.  

“Pants off princess.”  I know he meant it as a joke but my heart fluttered at his words.  I swallowed thickly, suddenly very aware of Edmund’s eyes on me.  I got up, unbuttoning my jeans before pulling them off, leaving me in only my underwear.  I saw Edmund lick his lips as he looked at me.  I blinked my eyes a few times before focusing them on the chessboard and not Edmund’s crotch.  Surely I was just imagining the growing bulge in his boxers, although Edmund’s uncomfortable shifting seemed to suggest otherwise.

Edmund had become increasingly silent as I pondered my next move.  I leaned forward, playing out my plan in my head as I slowly moved my hand to one of my pieces.  Before my hand could reach it, a larger hand grabbed mine.  “Are you going to continue teasing me like this?” Edmund questioned.  I was about to ask him what he meant when his eyes flickered to my cleavage that had slowly become more visible as I leaned forward.  I could feel my face start to warm, my eyes flickering to his crotch.  While I might have been able to write off his erection as part of my imagination before, it was now very much evident. 

“As if you aren’t teasing me as well,” I said, returning my gaze to meet his own.  His brown eyes studied my face as his hand traveled from my hand and up my arm.  He studied my facial expression, waiting for a sign to stop.  I didn’t give him one.  Instead, I crawled closer to him.  With one single swipe of his hand, the chessboard was gone.  Chess pieces clattered across the floor, not that either one of us cared.

Both of his hands wandered my body as I climbed into his lap, my legs straddling him as I wrapped my arms around his neck.  I slowly leaned forward, giving him enough time to stop me.  He didn’t though and soon, my lips were on his.  The pair of lips that were usually twisted in a sarcastic grin was as soft as silk.  I felt his tongue brush my lips, asking for entrance.  I parted my lips slightly, allowing his tongue and mine to be together.  They waltzed together, pressed against each other as Edmund’s hands worked on unclasping my bra.

After a moment, I felt the piece of fabric loosen before falling between the two of us.  We parted for a moment, both of us panting heavily from a mixture of the adrenaline pumping through our veins and the make-out session.  I ran my hands through Edmund’s brown locks, looking into his admiration filled eyes.  I experimentally rocked my hips back and forth, feeling his erection rub against my clothed sex.  Both of us let out a moan at the friction.  His hands gripped onto my hips almost bruisingly, pushing me down onto his hardened cock.  

“Oh God Ed,” I moaned, the friction much needed.  Edmund seemed to need more as he shifted our positions so that I was now laying on the floor.  His lips were quick to find mine.  Our lips moved together as his hands traveled to my panties.  He tugged on the fabric but it wouldn’t budge.  My realization that I had to raise my hips to allow him to take them off came too late.

“For fuck’s sake,” Edmund muttered before the sound of ripping fabric could be heard.  There was a moment of silence afterward.  I was now completely naked in front of my best friend.  I fought the urge to cover myself as his eyes wandered my body.  

“Those were my favorite pair of underwear,” I said, only half-joking.  A grin appeared on Edmund’s face, dissipating any self-consciousness I might have had.  

“My deepest apologies, love.  I promise to make it up to you.”  As soon as the words left his mouth, I felt a finger on my clit.  I let out a gasp.  A smirk formed on Edmund’s face as he started to lightly rub circles.  He added another finger, increasing the pressure slightly.  My hips rocked in time with his fingers, my body chasing its orgasm.  I closed my eyes as the pleasure built.  

“Edmund,” I gasped as I felt myself come undone, my head falling back as a moan left my mouth.  Edmund slowed his fingers until they had stopped moving altogether.  

“You look so beautiful when you cum,” he whispered.  I opened my eyes slowly to look at Edmund, a smile on my face.  He leaned forward, his lips pressed against mine in a soft kiss before pulling away.  I watched as he removed the only article of clothing from his body.  I bit my lip as my eyes landed on his erection.  He was definitely bigger than anyone I had been with before.  My pussy fluttered as I imagined his cock in me, stretching me out as he thrust into me mercilessly.  

I didn’t have to imagine for much longer as Edmund climbed on top of me.  My hands automatically wandered his body, touching anything it could reach.  I pushed his head down so that I could kiss him.  My moan was muffled by the kiss as he pushed into me, my back arching in pleasure.  He stayed in place for a moment as I stretched to accommodate him.  Soon enough, he started a slow pace.

Although the pace was slow, his thrusts were strong.  My body moved with each thrust, my nails raking down his back.  His mouth traveled from mine to just under my ear.  “Ed,” I moaned as he started to softly suck on the skin.  The pace had started to become faster as one of his hands went between our bodies.  I let out a gasp as his finger brushed my nipple.  He continued to toy with the sensitive area as I felt myself getting closer to my release.

“I’m so close,” I gasped.  I could feel Edmund smiling against my skin, the knowledge that he was able to unravel me like this probably amusing to him.  

“Cum for me (y/n),” he whispered into my ear, his hot breath tickling my neck.  My body obeyed his command as my entire body shook with pleasure.  My walls collapsed around him which seemed to be his tipping point as he moaned into my ear.  “Fuck (y/n),” he moaned as he gave one last thrust before spilling into me.  I let out a small moan as I felt his warm spurts of cum enter my body.  

After a few seconds, he pulled out of me.  He rolled off of me and to my side, turning his head to face me.  A smile was on his face as he brushed a strand of (h/c) hair from my face.  “See, wasn’t that better than boring, regular, old chess?”  I let out a chuckle.

“It seems you did have a good idea for once.  Although you still owe me a new pair of underwear.”

“Fair enough,” Edmund replied as we both got up to find our discarded clothing.  

[itstheimpossibledream]

It’s Only A Play -Part 3

Word Count:3244

Pairing : AU Henry Cavill x FemBlack!Reader

Summary: We love a good slow burn. SMUT

The bag crackled in his large hands. You found yourself wondering why he even bothered delicately tearing the wrapping, when he could easily smash both the wrapper and cookie open in one fist. The fortune seemed so small in his hands.He held the paper back a bit further than you would have expected and you realized he was probably one of those people who needed glasses but refused to get them.He cleared his throat again."It says 'The art of living is taking the biggest chance.'"

"In bed." you said quickly

"What?!" his eyebrows flew up in shock but,he laughed to keep from appearing to hopeful.

"It's an American thing. You read a fortune cookie and at the end you add in bed. It makes every fortune cookie funnier, I promise."you said not breaking eye contact. He threw his head back and laughed even harder. It was a childish trick but, something about it tickled him so much he hardly noticed when his hat fell off of his head and onto Kal who had been peacefully sleeping in the slice of floor behind Henry's chair. His baritone chuckles echo through the apartment and you’re amazed that neighbors didn't even cross his mind as a concern in this place.Realistically he probably wasn’t even home enough to get a noise complaint. His laughing had lessened and you could feel him watching you. You knew people who had embarrassingly nice apartments but, nothing like this. This was just lavishly ridiculous.

"It gets lonely being here alone." He said evenly,reading your mind. "Family doesn't visit much and keeping friends with a schedule like mine is just..."

"Not easy ." you finished for him.You could feel his eyes boring into you carving out a space in your heart for him and you try to will yourself to stop. You both sat comfortable on the silence for a while, momentarily mutually mourning the lifestyle you lost to live your dream.

"Okay read yours!" Henry gestured to you cookie. You smashed it to bits,gingerly pulling out the paper fortune. You sat up tall clearing your throat trying to figure out if this fortune would be equally funny or if your childish trick had run it's course.

"You Are very talented in many ways in bed." You say bursting out laughing as he doubled over again.

"Come on! How come I couldn't have gotten that one" he jokes shrugging his shoulders.

" Just wasn't your fortune."you tease winking at him and getting up from the table.Okay so you were flirting with him,definitely flirting with him. But a highschool showmance was so unlike you. You knew the golden rule was to never go for your co-stars and yet here you were winking and shit. Maybe he'd ignore it , he really knew nothing about you outside of your work.

"So what made you like this story? When you got the script when did know you had to do it ?" He had moved from the table, his eyes shown brightly as he recovered his hat from the floor on his way. At the end of dinner you assumed it would be normal to grab your jacket and go back to your room.It's not like he had really planned for you to be over, and you weren't even friends so staying up this late with him to gossip wasn’t exactly in the cards. You had already learned so much more about him than you had expected to. He expertly moved to the kitchen,uncorked a bottle of wine he had chilling in the refrigerator and returned to the couch handing one of the glasses to you. So, now you were staying, I mean it’d be rude to turn down wine.

"Uhhhhh- well I think the relationship is relatable, it's real. It's not about these two perfect people but, it's about this perfect love they have... ya know?" You whirl yourself onto the seat on the couch next to him."To imagine what they were going through as a couple I mean- it must have made everything harder, these characters are from completely different worlds and they still choose each other in their own way. " He nods next to you , this was new. Geeking out with him about work wasn't what you expected but, you were actually enjoying it.

"So let me ask you something?"he pushes leaning in , He wrings his hands together and you’re distracted by the veiny passageways that mark down from his forearms."When do you think it would actually be necessary for them to have a sex scene?"he asks timidly.

"Right!" you exclaim! "I love Stephen but the way he directs it makes it feel so clunky !"you emphasize with your hands and he chuckles saying "Okay I'm so glad you noticed it too- like who has sex like this robots?"

"You know his partners have to be weird." you laugh , noticing how pointy his canines are. God, he looks like one of those twilight vampires, his stupid skin probably did shine in actual sunlight Not that New York would get any though,you acknowledge while making a mental note , not to drink to much of the wine that was clearly causing you to get distracted. You finish your glass and set it on the coffee table.

"Yeah I don't know i just think it's an unconventional love story and we need more of those." you smile , sheepishly meeting his eyes , going back to the topic of the show. His lower lip juts up as he nods,in agreement.

"Soooooo what's next?"you pop up, moving to his kitchen opening random cabinets, trying to find his liquor stash. You come across the empty bottle, of what must have been the wine you just drank and turn to him in the living room with a fake pout. It wasn’t that you were bored, or even that you didn’t want to spend time with him sober ;as much as it was that you desperately needed to cling to the idea that he wasn’t a good man for you.

"O. you can smoke out on the terrace if you want, and I don't have any more drinks here but,I can call down to the frontdesk to run and get you something.” Your eyes rolled so hard they almost fell out of your head.

"Of Course you have a front desk."you chortled to yourself.

"Hey, this is the flat the show is paying to keep me in not my own." he pointed at you in mock sternness

"No I'm okay. I don't smoke and drink all the time " you chided at him,he probably didn't really think that. He was just trying to drum up some conversation.

"and here I thought you were a real New Yorker." he jokes breaking into a toothy grin.

" I'm from a very small town-" you divulged with a sigh"definitely not New York.”

"Yeah- there's not many people from where I grew up around here either." he said plainly , moving to take off his rehearsal sneakers, for what was probably the first time since you had gotten to his place.

"You miss it a lot huh?" you ask

"I mean I go back often but, it's just much nicer to not have camera's up your ass all the time."he huffs, moving to the second set of laces.

"Ahh that good old Hollywood fame." you joke, with a sigh. He just smiles at you, beaming embarrassingly knowing he can never seem to say the right thing around you. For some reason busting his balls was somehow so much better than admitting to a feeling that you were becoming increasingly aware of,you wanted him.

"I'm not like a smoker smoker" you say, slicing through the silence "I picked it up from my ex and it just kinda stuck." you admit with a flippant gesture of your hand." But, only when I'm nervous or something."you felt the need to clarify.

"And why would you be nervous?"He smirked, pushing his shoes under the decoratively simplistic coffee table across from him and sliding down the front of the couch to sit on the floor. His thighs seemed abnormally large as he spread his legs out and started stretching. This time it was your turn to look away from him.You peeled your eyes,just as quick as he had before your shower. The confidence that radiated from him was absolutely maddening. You couldn't understand how any man could be so aware of their looks and yet still come off as slightly shy.

"I'm always nervous the first days of rehearsal.The new schedule, the new people, it's all just overwhelming at times." you divulged honestly. He pulled a knee into his chest heaving a sigh as you continued. "I wish I never started smoking though." you circled back.

"Do you wish you never met him too?"Henry asked, inquisitively peering up from under his hat as he switched knees. You exhaled slowly,fighting for the right way to answer that question.

"Sometimes yes" you nodded. "When I first moved to New York it was really tough, I felt really lonely too." you allowed your voice to trail into a whisper. There is a silence and then you can feel his eyes on you, your cheeks burning red-hot and the more you avoid looking at him the stronger the urge is.

"So that's why you're single." it was brutal but, you weren't upset.Long ago you had come to a similar realization about yourself. Plus, european’s had a way of sounding rude while simply stating facts, it’s part of what makes them so trendy.

"You've allowed life to make you become tough and jaded so you just don't date?Is that it?" he perked an eyebrow in your direction while removing his baseball cap.While you took no offense to his comment, that didn't stop you from hating it.

"Why do you care?" you asked immediately, choosing the defensive instead of going deeper and chasing him down the rabbit hole of honesty.

"See what is that?" he questioned.It was clear he was not going to be letting this go anytime soon.

"I'm trying to do the assignment. I'm trying to get to know you and you push me away."

"Don't be ridiculous."you roll your eyes toward him once again."I'm not pushing you away I just have boundaries and things I don’t want to discuss with you."

You push up from the couch and head in the direction of your room. It was not within his right to pry about your personal relationships,and truly there was nothing more to discuss. Plus, you knew if you stayed close to him a moment longer, you would give into his eyes and the beautiful vanes bulging in his large hand.

"Why?" he asked jumping to his feet,his agility momentarily shocking you as you turn to leave.

"Because I don't want to ! Because you're not-"

"Not what?" he pushes" I've been working around you and this thing between us and I don't why you can be blunt about everything else except this !" He got dangerously close to raising his voice and it stirred the butterflies in your stomach. Something about him being so stern with you set your sex drive ablaze. You could feel yourself biting down hard on your bottom lip and the more you refused to break eye contact with him the more fired up you became. You could see the honesty behind his eyes, he was trying with you, he was proving himself every step of the way and you hated how much you loved it.

"Fine. What is it? What's the THIS?" you ask sarcastically, staring directly at him. His face looked blank and you wondered for a moment if you had asked the right thing. He grabs your hand,falling back onto the couch and pulling you onto the couch on top of him.You quickly realize you are able to put yourself in a position where you can straddle him as he grabs your face, pulling you down to kiss him. You kiss him back slowly , taking time to explore with your tongue. You can feel his hand tangled in your hair at the back of your head and it does something wild to you. You grind down into him and you hear a slight moan escape his mouth.

You bite down suddenly on his bottom lip before coming up for air and he simply can't take it anymore. He wraps his arms around your legs and lifts you up by the bottom of your thighs, carrying you into the bedroom. You feel ridiculously delicate in his arms as he carries you. You break from the kiss momentarily, to make sure your head is ducking all the way under the doorframe as he holds you,smiling into your kiss.

You pull your own shirt off, letting it hit the floor with a loud 'thwack'. The noise momentarily wakes you out of your horny haze. As he lays you on the bed,you bring your forearm up to cover your eyes, in the vaguest attempt of shielding yourself from your own embarrassment. He pulls your pants off and while unsure ,you don't protest as he gingerly splays your legs open for him to see the wetness that had pooled in your underwear.

"O you're so wet for me now."he smiles from ear to ear as you peek through your hand just enough to see his perfectly chiseled chest and you shut your eyes again wondering if this could be real, if he's real.

" We're not done ."he smirks, grabbing you by the legs and pulling you towards him. He then gracefully flips you over onto your hands and knees facing away from him.He pulls your panties down and drags his large fingers over your wet slit and you arch your back at his touch. He settles one hand on your hip as he uses the other hand to work himself into you.You had imagined he was big, but when you feel his head poking into you, you knew your fantasies could never compare to the reality. He uses the hand on your hip to slowly pull you further onto him until you are taking in his whole length. Moving painstakingly slowly, in and out of you. You hear him moaning above you and then he whispers "Fuck” in that stupid accent before snapping his hips into you and pushing you forward. He uses his other hand to prop you up because he knows he's pushing way to hard for someone of your size. Slamming into your pretty little cunt over and over again. You let out his name and you allow plea after plea for him to let you cum. He pounds into you grabbing your hair and pulling your face up to meet his.After a few more thrusts he finally graces you with a reply.

"No." he says and then pulls out of you. Your body immediately feels drained, completely and utterly fucked out and somehow all you want is more. You hold the position for a minute breathing into the lack of movement when you look back to see Henry watching you. Working himself in his large hand, the veins in his arms bulging and a slight bead of sweat beginning to work it's way onto his forehead.

"Turn over" he commands, and as much as you want to move quickly your legs feel like jelly,the smile line at the corner of his mouth fades as he walks towards you and flips you over himself. He positions himself above you again and says "I want to see that pretty face you make when you cum." he smiles down at you sweetly. Pushing in between your hot folds again and the noise you make is downright pornographic. You know it , he knows it and only fuels the fire behind his thrusts . He reaches for your neck again, giving you a pale necklace of fingers and veins that contrasts with your skin . With his other hand you feel him grab at your hand and interlace your fingers with his, above your head. Your eyes fly open and he is looking directly at you, smiling a bit and you can tell he is taking you in. Revelling in all the tiny noises and ways your body responds to his. You can feel his pace quicken as his moans increase, it almost feels as though the longer you look at him the harder he fucks into you, challenging you, seeing if you can handle him. His curls begin to dampen and stick to his forehead, you watch while he looks down on you. He momentarily breaks having his hand at your throat to bring his own pointer to his mouth. You watch as he lighlty bites down on it while letting out a moan.It's almost as if he's trying to keep himself quiet, or burn this view into his brain, but he's to turned on to focus. He fucks into you harder and harder, you can't take it, seeing his teeth around his own finger made you absolutely feral. You cried out his name immediately and before you could realize what was happening you felt your walls tightening again under him. Your legs shook as waves of pleasure washed over you and you could feel yourself clamping down on him. He fucked you through the orgasm, and when it seemed as though you had recovered, he climbed up your body, forcing his cock down your throat, and came instantly. He shudders and makes deep grunts on top of you. You can't help but gag a little on his length as you try to take in the art that is his unclothed body. He hears you struggling for breath and immediately pulls himself out of you. He holds a thumb at the bottom of your chin and watches as you swallow every drop of him. When you're done you look up at him, giving him your best attempt at doe eyes and he turns your chin up for him to kiss you . Fuck. Fuck. you were not supposed to fuck your coworker.Especially not this coworker, you barely even liked him. After a few moments of making out the contact fizzled and eventually he was just laying next to you, breathing heavily.

"It's purely physical." you sighed, watching the small curly hairs on his pecs as his chest heaved.

"Is it?" he began laughing. His smile shone bright in the dimness of the room. He turns to face you, leaning in for a kiss again and you're to weak to deny him.

"Dammit." he whispers between your lips. You grab the back of his head pulling him closer to you, your mind to blissed out and high for you to think.He kisses you hard and then pulls back. He hops off the bed, chest heaving as he uses his forearm to wipe away the sweat. You sleepily roll over to face where he's going. Some minutes pass and before you know it your overly fucked body is begging for rest.You drift of to sleep feeling euphoria in the big bed.

[phykios]

honesty and promise me, co-written with @darkmagyk [read on ao3]

Update: Annabeth has not done what needs to be done. 

August moves over into September, hot and sweltering days giving way to the first few hints of the coming autumn chill. One unseasonably cold night, Annabeth had gone to bed wrapped in one of Percy’s old Paris Opera sweaters, waking up with it and wearing it home to ward off the chill of the morning drizzle, like some a normal girlfriend would. 

It’s a problem, she knows, but she just cannot quit this man. 

And boy did she try, about a hundred different times. 

One time, she spent an entire Tuesday before seeing him googling around until she found a picture. It was three years old, and it showed Mittie--oh, sorry, Her Royal Highness Margherita--at a soccer game in Moscow. Next to her is the handsomest man in the world. Percy’s hair is shorter, and something about his windbreaker reminds her of some of the crew boys she knew at Harvard. They aren’t touching, but they are both smiling. This is the kind of girl Percy deserves. This is the kind of girl he should want. His type. She reminds herself of it for hours before meeting him at a show. But the smile he gives her is nothing like the one in the pictures with the princess. And when he whispers what he wants to do to her that evening, she just can’t do it. 

She even took him to his favorite pizza place once to soften the blow. But then she thought about how her dumping him would forever taint the magic of Antonio’s for the both of them, and she just couldn’t abide that.

So she kept putting it off. And putting it off. And putting it off.

And then he asked her to dinner with his parents again, on his one night off in three weeks.

“You’re sure you don’t want me to bring you something?” he asks for the fourth time, concern making his connection thin and tinny.

“It’s just a little stomach thing,” she lies, shaking out a ramen flavor packet. “I’ll be fine. You go have fun with your mom.”

“Okay. I’ll call later to check up on you.”

She rolls her eyes. “I’m just going to be asleep.”

“Talk to you later.”

“Yeah.”

He clicks off. Her apartment is very quiet. For lack of anything else to do, she decides to check her mail.

Who even mails anything anymore, she thinks.

Rifling through the pile of wasted paper, she sighs at the banality of it all. Junk, junk, junk, NYCB brochure she needs to cancel, junk… Harvard?

She peers at it.

The red seal is unmistakable, as is her name, printed in neat, black ink. “Ms. Annabeth Chase.” Why are they contacting her? And more importantly, who the fuck gave them her address?

Hands shaking, she unfolds it. “Dear Ms. Chase,” it reads, “Thank you for your generous contribution to the Harvard Graduate School of Design. As one of our most promising graduates, we are so pleased and thrilled to receive your encouragement. With your gift, we were able to reach our fundraising goal of $2.5million, which will go to support the various operations of the school, so that we can continue to provide a top-notch education for your fellow students. You do make a difference for us, and we are immensely thankful for you!” And then it goes on. “As a thank you for your generous gift of $15,000, we would like to invite you to the Alistair Moore dinner for distinguished graduates and faculty. We would be delighted to receive you at...” 

She can’t finish, dyslexia scrambling the words in front of her. Or maybe that’s just her, trembling so hard she has to sit down. Fifteen thousand. The Alistair Moore dinner. She knows it well, yet another fancy networking event, like the Eta Industries party. Bile rises in her throat. Who would…

The answer hits her like a freight train. Only one person would be so bold. 

Crumpling the letter in her fist, she pulls out her phone, dialing the number she still stubbornly has memorized, despite deleting it off her contacts list. 

She isn’t sure if she’s upset that she gets his voicemail, or relieved. “Hey, dad. It’s me,” she says, grimacing as she starts off like he wouldn’t recognize her voice. Like it’s any other phone call. “I got your message. The Alistair Moore dinner? I’m not going. I told you, I don’t want your help. I don’t need your help. What I need,” she sneers, “is for you to butt out and leave me the hell alone.”

Then she hangs up, before she can chicken out and delete it.

She shoves the letter into her recycling bin, down to the very bottom. Out of sight and out of mind. 

Well, her night is pretty much ruined. 

Ramen growing colder, she lies on her couch, her head hanging over the edge, studiously not looking at her phone. She shouldn’t have left that message. She shouldn’t have opened that letter. She shouldn’t have rebuffed Percy’s invitation. Or maybe she was right, in all those situations. Who the fuck knows. Who the fuck cares. Her leg bounces, frantic, stomach roiling.

Like a gunshot, her phone vibrates on her coffee table. Annabeth catapults herself up, reaching for it, nearly dropping it, even as her eyes begin to blur. Please let it be her dad. Please let it be anyone else but her dad. Please. Please. Please. 

checking in, writes Percy. feeling any better?

With a sob, she hits call. He picks up after the second ring.

“Hey,” he says, softly. “Everything okay?”

“Can,” she hiccups. God damn it. God damn her. “Can you please come over?”

She can feel his demeanor change over the phone. “I’ll be right there,” he says, calm and collected. “What’s your address?”

Her address is supposed to be a secret. No one is supposed to know where she lives. She doesn’t even like Luke knowing where she lives, and he might be the closest thing she has to family right now. But she tells Percy, and he promises to be there within thirty minutes. Throwing her arms over her face, she lies back down, breathing through her nose so she doesn’t vomit.

He makes it in twenty. here is the simple text, devoid of any hearts or emojis, and she buzzes him up. Less than a minute later, he knocks on her door. “It’s open,” she calls, pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes. 

Softly, the door clicks open, someone smoothly and quietly stepping inside. “Annabeth?” 

“Here,” she moans. She should get up to greet him. She can’t feel her legs. She can’t feel anything at all. 

The couch dips as someone sits next to her, a warm, large hand on her shoulder, and she can’t help but open her eyes. Percy is there in his blue sweater that she returned the last time she had slept over at Nico’s apartment, his brow furrowed in worry, but he’s smiling a little, too, just happy to see her, to see that she’s safe. In his other hand, he holds up a plastic bag. “I brought you a cookie,” he says, gently. “Chocolate chip.”

Annabeth blinks. “It’s… blue.”

He nods. “It is.”

Blue cookies. His mom’s special recipe, he had told her, for bad days of aching feet, harsh dance instructors, and school bullies.

The dam breaks. 

She launches herself into Percy’s embrace, sobbing. He tucks her head into his neck, his arms coming up around her. “It’s okay,” he murmurs. “It’s okay.”

“I’m--I’m so sorry,” she gets out, in between heaving breaths. “I just--I didn’t want to be alone and--”

He shakes his head against hers, his nose in her hair. “I’m here. It’s okay.”

They sit there for a long, long time, him holding her as she cries, pathetic. She can only imagine what it must be like from Percy’s end: here he was, having a lovely dinner with his mother uptown on his night off, only to get a frantic call from his hookup, demanding that he drop everything and rush to her side. And he did. He even fucking brought her one of his mom’s special cookies. 

She does not deserve this perfect, amazing man.

It’s that thought more than anything else that pulls her out of her spiral, her sobs abating somewhat. “There we go,” he says, sweetly. “I’m going to get you some water, okay? Be right back.”

Resisting the urge to hold onto his sleeve like some kind of child, she lets him pull away, stepping into her kitchen. Head aching and eyes puffy, she can’t even really register the fact that he is in her apartment right now. Her secret hideaway. Her sanctum sanctorum. He can see her tasteful couches and her expensive coffee maker and her giant TV screen. 

But honestly? She doesn’t care about any of that right now. All she cares about is the long, solid line of Percy’s body next to hers as he sits back down next to her, handing her a glass of water. She drinks it down, greedily, falling back against him, his hand automatically coming up to her shoulder, and she turns into his side, drinking him in, just as desperate.

They don’t speak, just holding onto each other. 

As she drifts off, there on her couch, her arm around Percy’s midsection, she only has one real thought in her head. 

Forget the apartment--this is her sanctum sanctorum. This is her safe space.

***

Annabeth wakes up in a bed that isn’t her own, in an apartment that isn’t her own. 

It reminds her, weirdly enough of her mom’s apartment, she thinks as she sits up in the soft, cream sheets, here in New York. She had only ever been a handful of times, whenever her mother deigned to claim her for their allotted family time. She doesn’t remember much about that place--mostly the skyline through the window, the low, uncomfortable furniture, the spotless, empty kitchen. 

Across from the bed is a mirror, squat and wide. Annabeth has her hair back, her face devoid of metal. She looks tired, she thinks, and maybe a little older, dark, heavy bags beneath her eyes. She’s wearing a real, actual set of pajamas, rather than a sweater or an oversized shirt, pale pink silk tight around her body. 

Shaking her head, she looks down, and spies a thin band of gold on her left hand, which rests on her stomach, sporting a slight, but noticeable curve. 

Only then does she realize it’s a dream. She lets out a grateful sigh. Just a dream.

It seems like a pretty boring one, too. She’s older, a little fatter, and has a nicer apartment. Somewhere in the distance is the indistinct sound of a person singing. And beyond that the even more indistinct sound of the city. 

Stumbling out of bed, her feet falling into a pair of soft, pink slippers, perfectly positioned next to her bed, she makes her way out into the apartment. The walls are cream, decorated with generic seaside landscapes, a nondescript sailboat in the background against an unchanging, cornflower blue sky. 

The kitchen is empty. Breakfast is cooked, laid out on a placemat at the kitchen island, but no one is there eating it. No one is there cleaning up, or making coffee. The food looks delicious, like a magazine spread: a perfectly made bowl of granola and yogurt, a lemon poppyseed muffin, a glass of orange juice on the side. Nutritious. Small. 

It’s weird. It’s really weird.

Moving on, she enters the living room. There’s a little girl on her knees, maybe three or four, she’s wearing a red pinafore over a white polo shirt and Mary Janes shined like the top of the Chrysler building. The preschool version of a prep-school uniform. She’s hunched over the glass coffee table, frizzy blonde curls bouncing as she moves her hand back and forth, scribbling with a colored pencil on a piece of paper. 

All of a sudden, she notices Annabeth standing there. 

“Mommy!” She jumps up, holding the pencil behind her back, her green eyes wide with apprehension. “I--I was--”

She hears whistling, and turns to see… well, it's Percy, but he looks nothing like her Percy. His hair is cropped shorter, parted and moussed perfectly flat. He’s in a three piece suit. He’s in trousers. Not a pair of sweatpants or a muscle tee in sight.

He stops when he sees her. “Sorry, didn’t know you were awake, wouldn’t have been singing.” Which makes no sense, Because Annabeth loves Percy’s ambient music. He looks around her, speaking to his--to the girl, “I told you you’d have to stop when mommy got up.” 

Annabeth glances at the little girl, who nods too solemnly. 

“Don’t worry,” this stranger wearing Percy’s face says, “She’s ready for school. She is ready for her Math qualification. I only said she could draw for a little, to calm herself down.” He glances at the girl again. “Put your things back in the art box, and we’ll go to school. I have an 8:30 meeting with the board.” 

The little girl runs off. Holding her paper and her pencils close to her chest, like she’s afraid someone is going to take them away from her. Maybe someone is. 

Percy turns to her. “I confirmed our reservations at 7 tonight at Sarabeth’s with your mother’s assistant this morning. And the nanny is going to stay late, so we don’t have to bring her.”

The her in question reappears just then. She’s so small. And she’s carrying a backpack. She looks like that breakfast, out of a magazine. But normally kids in magazines smile. 

“Are you ready?” Annabeth’s voice finally says.

A beat, then she nods again. “Yes, mommy.”

“Good,” she says. Outside, the sunlight through the windows isn’t so bright anymore, but dark and cold, like a solar eclipse. “Make me proud.”

And she turns to go back to bed, but the floor has disappeared, and she steps on nothing, tumbling down into the void.

With a start, she wakes up again in her bed, to the smell of breakfast in the air. Which is confusing, because she’s pretty sure she fell asleep on the couch, and she usually doesn’t wake up in time for breakfast, let alone actually make it herself: she has Percy for that, now. 

Right. Percy. 

It comes back to her in flashes: the donation, the voicemail, calling Percy out of desperation. Inviting him into her room, her bed. Falling asleep in his arms. 

She physically shakes her head, roughly scrubbing her face, forcing herself further into consciousness. The light coming through her window is grey and weak, doing absolutely nothing to help her out. The morning feels muted, for some reason, like it’s very far away. Maybe it was her nightmare.

She can’t hear Percy, Annabeth realizes. That’s what’s wrong. She can smell breakfast, but she can’t hear him puttering away. She doesn’t hear the clanking of pans as he tries to be quiet, or his off-key humming, or the dull thump of footfalls on her floor as he practices his steps. 

God, how late did she sleep? If he has to leave for a morning class he usually makes sure to wake her up, first. For a kiss if nothing else.

But when she pads out to her kitchen, she’s stunned to find Percy still there, sitting at her warped kitchen table. There are two plates in front of him, eggs and bacon untouched and cooling. He’s fully dressed, too, in his dark jeans and stupid dance pun t-shirt: “Girls Just Wanna Have Buns,” his sweater on the empty chair. Annabeth had been weirdly looking forward to wearing that this morning; he likes seeing her in his clothes, and she likes seeing him without them. It’s a system that works for them, typically leading to a lot of smiles, a couple giggles, and maybe another round or two before he has to leave.

He’s not smiling now. His gaze is fixed on his plate, hands in his lap. “Morning,” she croaks, softly.

Percy lifts his eyes to her, unfathomable like the sea. “Morning.”

Something in her stops her from sliding into the seat across from him. Standing gives her strength, gives her power that she doesn’t want to give up. She may not be able to tell what Percy is thinking right now, but she knows when someone is gearing up for a fight. “What is it?”

“What is what?”

“What’s the matter?”

He is uncharacteristically still. Annabeth has gotten so used to him expressing himself via his body, the stillness is unsettling. Percy holds her gaze for a moment, then sucks in a breath, sitting up a little bit straighter. “I kicked over your recycling by mistake, and when I was cleaning up, I…” He bites his lip, a little ashamed. “I accidentally read some of your mail.”

“Okay.” He can’t be that broken up about her junk mail, can he?

It’s only then that she sees it, laid out neatly next to the breakfast plate. The letter has been carefully uncrumpled, but the red Harvard seal is as obnoxiously bright as ever. “I don’t mean to pry, but…” Percy licks his lips, gathering his words together. “I thought you didn’t get into Harvard?”

She doesn’t say anything.

“It’s just--this is from the Graduate School of Design,” he continues, looking at the page as if to confirm it. “And the dean says you were one of their ‘most promising graduates,’ here, so. That means you have, what, a master’s degree? Right?”

Still, she doesn’t say anything.

Percy rubs a hand over his mouth, square jaw squaring further. “I guess I just don’t understand why you lied to me.”

“I never--” she blurts. 

“I mean, were you trying to spare my New Yorker sensibilities by telling me you didn’t get in? Did you think I would actually care?”

There’s nothing she can say in response. So she doesn’t. 

After a moment, he blows out a sharp breath. “So. Fifteen thousand dollars, huh.”

She sighs, looking away. It’s not like Annabeth doesn’t hate it, too. “I didn’t do that,” she says, crossing her arms. “My dad did it, he just put it under my name.”

“And, he did that… why? I mean,” he tilts his head, a little bewildered. “I thought you guys weren’t on speaking terms.”

“To try and get me to network again, probably.” She shrugs. “And I’m not on speaking terms with him. He just hasn’t gotten the memo yet.”

He hasn’t raised his voice at all. He hasn’t moved from his seat, or made any kind of threatening gesture, but like an approaching storm cloud, she can feel the anger rolling in, dense and crackling. “Does he do this a lot, your dad? Throw his money around for you?”

“It’s not like I asked him to.” 

But he’s shaking his head, rueful. “I don’t know how I didn’t see it before. You know, I thought it was weird that you could afford an apartment in the East Village with a bedroom on periodic architecture contracts, but I’m guessing he pays for that, too?”

He’s right, of course, but that doesn’t stop her from bristling. “It’s a trust fund,” she snaps. “It’s still my money.”

“A trust fund,” he says, softly. “Right.” 

Anger lances through her, cold and burning. Just because her dad had set it up for her didn’t mean that she wouldn’t use it. “Yeah, a trust fund. Is that a crime, now?” 

He opens his mouth as if to say something, then snaps it shut with an audible click. Pushing his chair out, he stands up, hands flat on the table. “I should go and get ready for my class. I’ll… I’ll text you later, okay?” Percy takes a step towards her, hands reaching for her on instinct, then pauses. “See you around.”

Percy leaves without so much as a look back, closing the door so quietly she can barely hear it over the roar of blood in her ears.

[moon-spirit-yue]

Idea inspired by @incorrectgg. Someone save the general. Sapphic yearning Namaari series:

Atitaya, at the beach: finally! A vacation, somewhere far away from Fang! And most importantly, a break from-

Raya, popping her head out of the water and making eye contact with Atitaya: oh hi general! Beautiful day for a swim am I right?

Atitaya, about to cry: will I ever know peace in this life?

Raya, not hearing what she said and sitting next to her: hey, how’ve you been? It’s been a while since we’ve been able to chat!

Atitaya, rolling her eyes: maybe if you stopped running from me, we could talk

Raya: well I’m not running now, am I?

Atitaya, confused: huh you’re right. Why aren’t you running from me?

Raya, leaning back and closing her eyes: you’re not the one that wants me dead

Atitaya, concerned: oh my god Raya who wants you dead? I can help you if you just let me

Raya, squinting at her: uh you literally work for her

Atitaya, frowning: no Chief Virana doesn’t want you dead

Raya, shaking her head: no not that boss, the other one. Namaari

Atitaya, extremely confused: what are you talking about? Namaari wants you alive I can tell you that right now

Raya, glaring at the sky: oh I’m sure she does. She probably wants to keep me alive to torture me and make me suffer

Atitaya, looking at her like she grew a second head: where do you get these ideas from?!

Raya, shrugging: well why else would she always chase after me? It’s obvious she just wants me to be in constant agony

Atitaya: I really don’t think-

Raya, cutting her off by leaning her head on Atitaya’s shoulder: you’re a lot nicer than her though. It’s nice to talk to you without the threat of being imprisoned

Atitaya, blushing madly: yeah it’s nice talking to you too

Raya, coming closer to Atitaya’s face: hey are you okay? You look like you’re feeling ill. Your face just got super red

Atitaya, only blushing harder: oh yeah I’m fine I’m great truly fantastic

Raya, kissing Atitaya’s cheek: my Ba always said that the best way to treat a sickness was with some love. Do you feel better now?

Atitaya, about to blow a fuse: that definitely helped thank you so much

Raya, smiling happily at her: good! I’m glad. I need to get moving though. Tuk Tuk and I still need to find a place to camp for the night

Atitaya, smiling shyly: you could sleep in my tent. It’s already set up and everything

Raya, who’s low key exhausted: sounds good to me. Tuk Tuk let’s go find the tent and get some rest

Namaari, training in Fang: I have the sudden urge to throttle Atitaya. I wonder what that’s about?

Taglist: @faithfulwarrior-og @isitbussinjanelle @tigerlillyruiz @ratld-sideblog @anywhere-but-here-plz

[babu-haitani]

Scenario for Kisaki again.

I litteraly cannot write for anyone else 😣

"Okay, sit here."

"your house is very cozy Kisaki~"

"... Let's talk about our plan quickly. My sister might come home earlier"

"Is she still single ?"

"Hanma, if you don't shut the--"

Reader's POV

"Holy shit!" I opened the car door and urged the driver to start driving. It might get bloody here

"Start driving! Now! I killed him. We need to go now! Holy fuck.."

The driver started driving. We could hear gun shots and cars chasing us down but we manage to escape them and now, I'm heading home

"Another day and I'm still alive. I so excited to see my baby and tell him about my day!"

We're infront of the house. I get out of the car and now I'm heading towards my house

Kisaki's POV

"Got it? So you'll have to--" BANG "oh god." I sighed

We heard a loud bang. Sometimes I wonder why I gave her the house keys.

"Tetta I'm back! I have your money too~"

She walked in the living room, wearing a black dress with black heels and pretty lipstick. She always dresses like that when she needs to kill someone. My sister isn't working for anyone. She just...loves revenge a little too much.

"It was so hard. I had to look for the guy and luckily he didn't recognize me so I just seduced him, took his money and dipped. But of course he had to chase me so I had no choice to kill him and run as fast as I can. His men tried to kill me it was so intense and I--"

"Shut up. You're talking too much. I'm in the middle of a meeting" I said

"No, let her finish. It was interesting~"

Hanma, this idiot. Really can't keep his mouth shut

"See, baby?? Hanma is way more nicer than you. You're so mean to me!"

"Fuck it, y/n. Just give me the money. I'll pay you back" I said

"Whatever." She got closer to us, and throwed the money at my face. I hate her, but atleast she gives me lots of money

"You guys can continue your little meeting. I'll be upstairs if you need something"

"Wait, y/n can you give me your numb--"

"Shut up"

...Now I can't stop thinking about Hanma x Kisaki's Sister (Reader)

(◍•ᴗ•◍)❤

[jaskiersbow]

Make You Happy

(again, housekeeping and moving things to the new blog. Ignore me!)

Explicit, Warnings: knotting, virgin Jaskier, sex slave Jaskier, a/b/o. Geraskier.

Anonymous asked: Virgin Sex Slave Jaskier to the Wolves. Maybe his first introduction to fucking a Witcher and their MASSIVE cocks after his purchase? Dubcon to oh fuck yes. So, learning about sex, breeding and lots of cum? A/B/O or knots (don't have to be combined) for flavour if you'd like. (age is up to you, but since you didn't mention it, 18+ is perfect.)

Anon, I have to apologize a little here.  I went off script.  I can definitely be talked into writing a follow up where Geralt shares his slave with the other wolves, but I felt like he needed to take what was his first.  Have 2k of sassy Jaskier who has absolutely no idea what he’s getting himself into.  I wrote this picturing him as 18, but didn’t state it so let your mind go wild.

---

The omega is quiet as they walk back to Geralt’s campsite.  How the fuck does he get himself into these situations?  Who wins a sex slave in a game of Gwent?  He honestly hadn’t expected to win that game, but that obviously doesn’t matter now.

“Do you sleep outside all the time?” the omega asks quietly, breaking Geralt out of his thoughts.

“Not all the time, but towns aren’t often kind to me,” Geralt informs him, adding a rushed out “sorry” to the end of it.

“I like the stars” he says with a shrug, “Besides, whatever you want I want.  That’s kind of how this works.”

“Sorry if I’ve never owned a sex slave before,” Geralt scoffs out, cringing when the boy looks a bit heartbroken at that.  He hadn’t asked for this, to be tied to a witcher of all things.  Geralt vows to be a bit nicer if he can help it.

“I just want to make you happy,” the omega mumbles, pouting a bit.  Geralt realizes he never actually got his name, which is probably bad form, but to be fair he was shocked at having won a slave in a card game.

“I’m sure you will.  This is just...a lot to take in. What should I call you?”

“My name is Jaskier, but the ones who trained me called me Pet if that pleases you more?” Jaskier replied.  Geralt thought it over for a moment, decided this was odd enough without adding that element to it.

“So Jaskier, unless you’re an idiot, you’ve noticed I’m a witcher.  Did they train you for that?” he asks, already knowing the answer.

“I was trained to be displayed at court, so no,” Jaskier says, frowning.  “Do I displease you?”

“Not at all,” Geralt rushes out.  “You...you look nice.  I just want to know what you’re ready for.  Alpha witchers can be a bit much.  What did your last owner do with you?”

“My last owner lost me in a card game on my first night with him, so I’m still fresh from training.”

“Fresh as in...virginal?” Geralt asks, his voice cracking over the word.  This is too much.  No matter how sweet and eager the boy seems, there’s no way he’s ready to take a witcher cock.  He’ll have to find a place for him, maybe set him free somewhere nearby.

“Only my ass.  I’ve had lots of practice with my hands and my mouth,” Jaskier says with a saucy wink.  “Sometimes they even let me get myself off afterwards if I was good enough with my mouth.”  Geralt can picture it, the boy taking his tiny omega cock in his own hand and fucking his fist to orgasm.  A shiver runs through him, and he has to push another wave a lust away and focus on setting things straight.

“No use in being modest, but witchers - especially alphas - are more well endowed than most. We might not be a good match,” he says tactfully.

“You don’t want me,” Jaskier sobs out, shooting Geralt a doe-eyed look.

“Look.  I travel alone normally. I’m not good with people. I have wanted nothing more than to fuck that tight little ass since I saw you in that tavern, but I don’t think it’s possible.  I’m not about to hurt you, and you can’t want this,” he waves a hand around at the campsite around them.  No reasonable omega would want to live in the fucking woods and trail a witcher around.  It’s ridiculous.

“Well that’s great, because I’ve thought of little else than you taking me since I saw you.  Now let me show you something and maybe it will change your mind.  Because I’m not about to lose two owners in one day,” Jaskier huffs out before stomping over to his bag.  He roots around for a moment before pulling out a rectangular box.  He kneels down in front of Geralt and presents it to him, grinning up at him.

“What this?” Geralt asks as he opens the lid.  His eyes go wide as he takes in the contents; a set of wooden plugs of various sizes.  The largest is as thick around as he is.  “You’ve taken these?” he asks as his blood rushes south.

“All but the largest.  I’ve not been properly fucked, but they wanted to make sure I was able to be.  They’re also for if my owner wants to...keep me open for them.  I’m made to serve, made to be ready.  Now can we please get to the part where you stick your cock in me?  I’ve been wet since we left town,” he whines and chews at his lower lip, drawing Geralt’s attention to it.  And there’s no reason to say no, no reason to deny himself this pleasure, so he just nods and sets the box aside before moving to his bedroom.

“Strip. Let me see you,” Geralt orders, his voice lower than normal.  Jaskier smirks at him and makes a show of undoing his doublet and sliding out of his trousers.  He hadn’t lied, Geralt can see the slick on his thighs and it sends a wave of need through him.  Geralt tugs his own clothing off and sinks to his knees.  “Come here, darling,” he whispers.

Jaskier slinks over to him and drops to his knees, hands reaching out as if he’s afraid to touch.  Geralt makes the decision for him, leaning forward and running his own hands down his arms, fingertips reveling in the impossibly soft skin.  He smells so good like this, sweet and cloying like honey and clovers.  Geralt bends down and nips at his skin, right below the black collar wrapped around his neck.  There’s a hoop there, meant to carry his owner’s mark, and Geralt has to bite back a moan when he pictures a silver wolf pendant hanging there.

“Do I please you?” Jaskier asks breathily.  Geralt meets his gaze and realizes the boy is unsure of himself.  He has no idea how much Geralt is fighting the urge to just sink into him, fuck him and take what’s his.  He shivers and runs his hands over Jaskier’s hips before cupping his little omega prick in his hand.  Jaskier cries out and goes limp against him, whining, “no one’s ever…” against his chest.

“Fuck.  No one’s ever touched you like this?” Geralt asks in shock.  Jaskier nods, trembling as Geralt starts to pump his hand, slowly working over his little cock.  He’s red and leaking, just a mess of pre-come, and Geralt just wants to worship him.  For all his training, the omega is falling apart, just shuddering against Geralt as he fucks into his fist.  He’s gorgeous like this, and Geralt can’t fault him his pleasure, just speeds up his hand and watches in awe as Jaskier comes.

“Geralt!” he shouts, nearly sobbing as he spills over Geralt’s hand.  He’s shaking, clearly overwhelmed with it all, and Geralt just works him through it, milking every last bit of come that he can.  Geralt ducks down and noses at his scent gland, drowning in his strong smell.  He’s never smelt an omega this sweet before.  It’s like he was made for him.

“Can I fuck you?” Geralt asks, and Jaskier just laughs at him.

“I’m yours to do what you please with, but if you’re asking if I’d like it, yes.  I very much would,” Jaskier murmurs against the side of his neck.  Geralt can’t wait any longer, just grabs Jaskier by the hips and sets him on his hands and knees.  His thighs are glistening with slick and Geralt has to squeeze the base of his cock to keep his mind clear.

But then Jaskier leans forward so he’s resting on his shoulders and reaches back, grabbing his cheeks and parting them.  He’s fucking <i>presenting</i> like a bitch in heat and it’s too much.  His hole is pink and dripping slick, and Geralt growls and is lining up and sinking into him before he can think about it.  Jaskier whimpers and it goes straight to his dick, throbbing as he slides deeper.

“Fuck, you’re so gods damned tight,” Geralt growls as he gives the omega a moment to get used to the feeling.

“I’m so full,” Jaskier shudders, struggling to get back up on his hands.  He sighs and rocks back, sucking Geralt even deeper into his wet heat.  “Didn’t know it would be like this,” he pants out.

“Didn’t know you’d be perfect.  Like you’re made to take my cock,” Geralt says quickly.  He pulls back and slams his hip home, loving the way the smaller man whimpers and clenches around him.  He’s not going to last long, hasn’t fucked an omega this tight in years.  Every thrust of his hips is sweet agony.

He knows in the back of his mind that he should be going easy on him because it’s his first time, but he just can’t help it.  Jaskier is gushing slick now, the sounds of their joining echoing around them.  His hips move on their own, finding a ruthless rhythm as he plows into Jaskier.  The omega - his omega - is taking it so well, a chorus of breathy gasps and moans flowing from his mouth as Geralt fucks him.

“Please, oh please,” Jaskier whines.  “Am I good?  Can I come when you do?  Am I good for you?” he’s babbling mindlessly, begging for a release that Geralt won’t deny him.  He’s too sweet, too perfect, his hole too hot and tight around him.  For a split second Geralt wishes he could breed him, see his belly round and full with pups, and the thought makes him move faster.

His knot is growing, catching on Jaskier’s abused rim with every slam of his hips.  He leans down, bracketing Jaskier’s body with his own, rutting into him like a man possessed.  There’s a fire burning in his gut and he starts to lose his rhythm, hips stuttering as he chases his release.  He thrusts once, twice more before his knot takes hold and he falls over the edge, emptying his seed inside Jaskier’s sweet little body.

“Come for me,” he hisses.

Jaskier sobs out his name and the scent of his release fills the air.  He gets even tighter, body gripping Geralt’s knot so fucking tight that his eyes roll back and he can’t do anything but grind into him, fucking him with his knot.  It’s rough and sloppy and everything Geralt’s ever wanted.  He scrapes his teeth over Jaskier’s scent gland, a promise of what’s to come, and shoots burst after burst of come into him.

They collapse to the bedroll and Geralt rolls them to their sides.  Jaskier is shaking, whining deep in his chest as he reaches back and clings to Geralt.  “I’ve got you,” Geralt says, voice hushed and rough.  He runs a hand over Jaskier’s belly, pleased to find it bulging just a little.  He wonders how many rounds it would take to make him ache with it.

“Nothing prepared me for this...I didn’t know it would be so good,” Jaskier whispers.  Geralt reaches down and takes him in hand again, tugging him into another orgasm just to feel his hole tighten around him again.  He bites Jaskier’s shoulder as another rush of seed flows into him.  He’s never liked being locked to another, stuck with them for far too long, but he feels like this won’t be long enough.  He wonders if the boy has another round in him tonight; how many times he can make them both come before morning light.

“I think we’ll like travelling together,” Geralt promises him.  Jaskier just shudders and presses back against him in agreement.

[splat-dragon]

For reasons wretched and divine ~Jackie and Wilson, Hozier

Whumptober 2020, alt. #7: Found Family

Charles never regretted burying Arthur. The man deserved a burial, deserved a headstone, deserved more than to be left to rot.

But he’d give anything to be able to close his eyes without seeing Arthur laying on the mountain, without seeing his corpse. To remember Arthur without first seeing him dead on the ground, to remember him living and bright, even if it was angry and cruel, before he’d tried to redeem himself if only because it meant he didn’t first think of him half-rotted on that stone.

INSPIRED BY THIS ART BY @amesegue

@whumptober2020

When they’d said goodbye, when Arthur had tried to come with him, when he’d refused to let him, Charles had known he’d never see him again.

 He’d been half right.

 He’d never seen him alive again.

And he never regretted burying Arthur. The man deserved a burial, deserved a headstone, deserved more than to be left to rot.

 But he’d give anything to be able to close his eyes without seeing Arthur laying on the mountain, without seeing his corpse. To remember Arthur without first seeing him dead on the ground, to remember him first living and bright, even if it was angry and cruel, before he’d tried to redeem himself if only because it meant he didn’t think of him half-rotted on that stone.

He hadn’t found out that the gang had been scattered for a day or so after the fact.

 Rains Fall had, face more solemn than usual (which was saying something) stepped into his tent, a newspaper in hand. Pressed it into his palm without a word, and he’d known before opening it what it would say.

 He’d been gone by morning, but it took days to reach Beaver Hollow.

Though he’d hated Beaver Hollow, seeing the camp decimated hurt. He’d not run with them long - only a year and a half, maybe a bit longer, they’d been his home, been his family, even towards the end. And though most of it had been reduced to ash, he could still determine what most of it had been - there was Dutch’s tent, there, the remains of the campfire, and there, Arthur’s wagon.

 Half tangled in Dutch’s tent, Grimshaw’s body, skull picked near-clean by crows that he chased away.

They had never been particularly close.

 She hounded him when he came back bloody from hunting, and more than once had boxed him around the ears when he hadn’t been quick enough to wash clean.

 But she’d been like a mother to him, if a poor one. Chased him to his bedroll if he didn’t sleep after taking the night watch duty, shoved ‘dinner’ and ‘breakfast’ into his hands if he didn’t eat. He didn’t remember much of his mother, they’d been separated when he was too young to remember her, but he liked to think she’d be like Miss Grimshaw… if a bit nicer.

 So seeing her left to be picked clean by scavengers hurt. He took the time to stoop down, cutting the tent and wrapping it around her carefully, mindful of her exposed skull and keeping it together as best he could, her mandible nearly coming loose, before fastening her to Taima’s rump.

 She deserved better, but he didn’t have better, so he gave her the best he had.

The trail wasn’t hard to follow.

 Corpses, picked half clean by scavengers, led into the cave. Led to the ladder, and he knew where it led out, so he left the cave and led Taima up to the hole, followed the trail from there - horse carcasses left to rot where their riders had been collected, though he didn’t know why the Pinkertons back at the Hollow had been left behind - until he found Old Boy and Dipper, pain a shearing wound in his chest.

 Old Boy had been largely eaten, a gaping wound in his side - a bear, maybe, seeking the nutritious innards - but Dipper had been left to decompose, untouched as though she were something holy, something that would bring sour luck on any who dared touch her, though flesh had begun to slough away from her dark face, baring her gleaming skull, and he took the time to kneel and stroke her mane, hair coming out in chunks caught in his fingers, thanking her and then Old Boy though he hadn’t known the Half-bred half so well.

 Up the mountain, and he struggled to keep the trail. Finally found himself clambering up a ledge - then down, and the crunch of breaking bones trickled ice down his spine.

He saw, first, what was easily the largest coyote he’d ever seen. Black as a starless night, it stood impossibly still aside from its head, jerking from side to side and - 

 though Charles was not one who was quick to anger, or to fault an animal for its instincts, he reached for his gun and fired at the coyote.

 But it was quick and, as though it had known what he was going to do, danced back with the grace of a deer, paws so light they didn’t seem to touch the ground, stopping to stand in the middle of the ledge and just barely he was aware of its paw resting on a revolver, but couldn’t look away from its muzzle, dangling open and dripping blood.

 His eyes met its - dull yellow, like spoiled egg yolks - and he couldn’t look away. It went still, didn’t seem to even breathe, and then the spell was broken as a drop of blood splattered to the ground and he brought his gun up again, firing over its head. With a nonchalance that no wild animal he'd ever met had, it sauntered away, turning the corner and kicking away the revolver as it went.

 He stared after it until long after its paw-steps had faded away, jerked as though coming out of a trance and looked over at the form the coyote had loomed over and

“Oh god, Arthur,”

 he’d thought he’d never be unable to see his brother, and he’d been right.

 One of his eyes was gone, only a bloody socket left in its place, skull bared, long stolen away by a scavenger, a bird or something precise, looking for an easy meal, something soft that wouldn’t require much fuss to get to. His stomach churned and he fought the urge to gag - he’d dealt with many corpses in his time, but never one of a man he’d call brother, and finally he lost control and turned, emptying his stomach, as a fly crawled out of his nose, fluttering down and crawling into his mouth, dangling open as though he’d been gasping for air when he died (or, some part of him hoped, his face had relaxed in death, he’d seen that happen before.)

 Blood and… and other liquids, he didn’t know the name for them, wasn’t much of a learned man in such a way, decomposition fluids he supposed they were called, oozed from his nose, from his eyes and mouth and ears, and he had to turn his head to keep from vomiting on Arthur. Though he hated the sight of it, he prayed that the way his nose was at a wrong angle, looked crushed and shattered, was because he was dead and that it hadn’t happened as he died, though from the bruising on his face - at least, he thought it was bruising, but Arthur’s skin sat odd on his face, those frown lines that once lined his mouth now stretched strange down near his cheekbone and jawline, so who knows what it could be - he had a sinking feeling it was due to how he died.

Charles never did know how he died.

 He’d thought Arthur looked beaten in, though he’d been dead long enough that he’d started to look small, skin sliding and falling along his bones, and he’d been sick in the end, losing weight and muscle mass until he’d looked more skeleton than man, so he wasn’t entirely sure.

 Hoped, almost, that he’d been shot, that he’d suffered the short death of a well-placed bullet.

 But when he’d sat back, unable to look his brother in the face any longer, unable to see that single stony eye staring accusingly back at him, he’d found a mess.

 The coyote hadn’t been the first to get there. That, or the coyote had been there for a long time as he was torn open from stem to stern, a mess of torn flesh and bared meat, shredded organs and shattered bone, the flayed remains of his beloved coat, writhing with maggots and he couldn’t unhear the coyote cracking Arthur’s ribs between its teeth.

 He lurched to his feet, put his hands on his knees and gasped for breath, tried desperately to ground himself even as he shook apart. Shucked his jacket - wished he had that tent but he’d have to make do, refused to leave Arthur behind for fear the coyote came back, or any other scavenger for that matter - and lifted him carefully, swallowed convulsively, stomach rebelling at the feel of his loose skin shifting beneath his hands. It wasn’t his first time handling a body, even one long rotted, many rotted even more than this one, but it’s different when it’s your brother.

 There was a chunk missing from his leg - the coyote, he thought, it fit for its size, and maggots poured from it as he scooped him up, cradling him like a bride, holding his breath against the scent of rot and sick, turning and beginning to walk up the cliff.

He wanted, more than anything, to bury him near the Overlook.

 Arthur had been happiest there, he knew. When the gang had been happy, before it had all fallen apart. When they were all alive, before Dutch had well and truly lost his mind. Where Micah had been gone - first in jail, then hiding while he made reparations.

 But he feared trying to bring him down the mountain, wasn’t sure he could hold together for even that small trip, much less on the back of a horse that far of a ride, and he didn’t have enough room on Taima if he managed to either way.

 So he went up the mountain, cradling Arthur as though he were something precious - which he was - mindful of the open wound in his leg, of the hole in his stomach, painfully aware of the eye staring into him. Looked and looked, determined to find somewhere to bury him - he deserved, at least, that much. Remembered overhearing him talking to Lenny and Tilly and Hosea once, a long time ago—

  “Face me to the west, so I can… watch the settin’ sun an’... remember all the fine times we had that way.”

 —and Arthur, when he found him, had been facing east, and so Charles was determined to bury him facing west if it was the last thing he did.

He looked up, frowning as he carefully stepped down a small ledge, and the coyote was staring back at him.

 If his arms weren’t full, he would have shot the damn thing for the mess it had made of his brother.

 It huffed, tilted its head, licked its lips, and trotted away.

Behind where it stood was the perfect spot.

 An outcropping, not too far out but long enough for a man of Arthur’s size, a massive rock at the end like some natural headstone. The grass thick and lush, cradling Arthur when he set him down and knelt to feel the dirt, finding it loose enough to be dug with a tool but hard packed enough that an animal would have to work their paws bloody.

 It was perfect, almost too perfect, and he looked back, frowning when he didn’t see the coyote anywhere. Felt a chill run down his spine, shook it off.

 He moved Arthur so he could keep an eye on him, ready to chase off any birds that might be attracted, not trusting the coyote - clearly brazen, used to humans - not to try its luck.

 Charles carried a trowel in his satchel, having found it useful for a great many things, so he pulled it out and set to work.

Hours passed. By the time he was done his clothes were sticking to him with sweat and he was shaking, muscles throbbing and near to giving out. But he had a grave, ten feet deep just to be safe, and so he wiped off the trowel and set it aside, picking up Arthur as carefully as he could with hands that shook with more than just exhaustion, said a prayer and set him down in the grave, making sure to face him west before clambering out of the hole, collapsing onto his side and gasping for breath.

 He didn’t dare to rest though, knew that just a hole wouldn’t deter any scavengers, and set about filling the grave. Hated to cover his brother with dirt, wished he could give him the dignity of a coffin but had no way of getting one, so could only offer an apology as the dirt scattered over the side of Arthur’s face.

 He doesn’t remember much of burying him. Pouring the dirt back in took hours, he had only his hands and a trowel and he’d dug it deep, but finally he could collapse onto his side after patting it harshly, making sure it was packed down until, aside from the lack of grass and plants, it looked barely different from the rest of the ledge, barely disturbed.

He dozed on and off for the rest of the day, waking as the rising sun cast its light into his eyes. Reached up and wiped his face, was jerked back down to reality when he found himself with a streak of dirt across his face—

 —looked up, and found himself staring down the coyote again. It shifted from paw to paw, looked back over its shoulder, and his only warning was the faintest, far-away clattering of hooves before the most golden stag he’d ever seen strode up to stand beside the coyote as though the coyote wouldn’t eat it if given a heartbeat’s chance, peering down at him critically, before turning right back around and walking away, gone as quick as it had come.

 The coyote looked down at him for a moment longer, then turned and trotted after the stag.

He shivered, and stood, grabbing his satchel - he’d intended on eating and having a drink, but he wanted to get started on Arthur’s grave marker, could always eat as he worked.

Arthur’s grave marker took him five days. Finding the wood took the better part of the first, breaking down the trees took the second. And then was the matter of carving it, of working the wood into a circle, of making it take the shape he could see in his mind’s eye, of making all the separate pieces come together and, more importantly, stay together.

 He intended on taking as long as he needed to make the grave marker. Every time he closed his eyes he saw it, saw it look a certain way, and though he didn’t know why he knew it needed to look as such.

 And on the fifth day, every one woken to find the deer and coyote peering down at him, he had the marker, and all he needed to do - though it was no easy undertaking - was engrave it. He was no religious man, but he knew some sermons, knew some verses as any man of his time would, had spent most of his time carving trying to decide, trying to picture them carved into the wood until it fell to rot, and finally he planted the grave marker carefully and stepped back to look it over a final time,

His knees went weak, and he sank to the ground.

 The culmination of a week - two days ride, five days taken to bury and make his grave marker, a break taken only to bury Miss Grimshaw - stood before him. He felt… oddly empty, until a tear trickled down his face, and then another, and another, and he’d never been one to cry and his face didn’t twist and he didn’t sob but he couldn’t stop.

 Something soft nudged against his face, a warm puff of breath, and he caught a glimpse of golden fur before he was nearly knocked over with the force of the stag’s shove.

 Despite himself, he grinned - it was watery, and shaky, and tasted of salt as tears ran over his mouth, but the stag sighed into his face, smelling of sweet-grass and smoke and horse-sweat and familiar and he reached up, tangling his fingers in the thick fur of its neck, bringing their heads together.

ARTHUR MORGAN

  BLESSED ARE THOSE WHO HUNGER AND THIRST FOR RIGHTEOUSNESS

[nikkicross22]

reaction prompt: Char A is taking a walk, when they accidentally come across Char B. Char B, unaware of the audience, is enjoying their hobby, which had been a secret up until that point. Char A is in awe (or in shock, or whatever). Whether or not Char A is spotted watching char B - and any drama or embarrassment that results from that - is up to you.

Thanks for the prompt! I had a lot of fun!

Madara has had it up to here with all this stupid paperwork. 

“Let’s start a village!” Hashirama had said. “It’ll be fun!”

If Madara could go back in time, he would punch himself in the face, name Izuna clan head, and run as fast and as far as he could. It was only right, after all, that the more spirited of the two should be the one out running. God, if only Izuna could see him now.

Except he could, because the stupid red-eyed freak had decided to spare him at the last minute, and Izuna had run off to get married to some Uzumaki tramp the moment the village declared them official allies. Madara was so done.

And yet, it’s not until he finally had not only the urge, but the actual intent to set his office on fire that Madara had said screw it and actually left for a midnight walk. He shouldn’t even be up this late, but with Izuna currently off doing who knows what with the stupid (surprisingly tolerable) Uzumaki, his sleeping schedule had gone to hell. 

Sighing, he turns the corner and heads into the forest, going to one of the calmest clearings he knows. Hashirama and the bastard albino had actually put this one together with both of their talents; a large, tree filled clearing with a small but crystal clear pond on one end. Not only did the chirping crickets and frogs make for nice white noise for Madara to train with, but the pond was surprisingly handy for when he needed to put out any wayward fires.

When Madara finally makes it into the clearing, he’s about to go flying into some of his most intense katas when he hears a soft voice. Freezing for a moment, he creeps closer, soundlessly looking around for the source of the low crooning. Madara ends up nearly in the pond when he finally manages to locate the person, and nearly chokes on his own tongue. 

Senju Tobirama is sitting there, stroking the head of a snow white stag as he talks to it calmly, seemingly ignorant to the presence of the wayward Uchiha. He has a slight smile on his face as he speaks, the deer flicking its ear towards him occasionally despite the massive pair of antlers its sporting. Madara knows shinobi who would kill each other for the pleasure of mounting a beast like that, but is suddenly sickened by the thought of murdering such a beautiful creature.

Madara creeps closer, moving so that neither the snow white buck or man are aware of him. After years of war, the Uchiha is nearly an expert in the art of chakra masking, so he knows that unless the Senju is actively looking for him, he won’t be noticed. Madara is honestly slightly surprised that the man hasn’t noticed him yet anyway, as his sensing skills were notoriously strong.

Settling into a tree about ten yards away, Madara channels chakra into his ears to help him hear what Tobirama is saying.

“-s and idiot, but he really does get his work done. Believe it or not, the man spends nearly as much time in his office as I do,” the Senju says with a chuckle, lightly rubbing the base of the stag’s antlers. “Honestly, if I hadn’t had Mito put that seal on his door to keep track of him, I would be worried if he was sleeping at all.”

Madara blinks at that. He know’s Tobirama tends to be a bit on the obsessive side, but he hadn’t really pegged him as a stalker. Perhaps this was another one of his experiments?

“Regardless, though, I still don’t think he’s sleeping enough,” Tobirama confides. “It’s too bad he’s so in love with my brother. He doesn’t really see the forest for the trees, so to speak. He’s far too focused on one thing, and I don’t think there’s anything I can do about it. Anyone, for that matter.”

Someone was in love with Hashirama? That was... slightly disturbing, especially considering the man was married. And straight, as far as Madara could tell. Also, a total fucking idiot.

“He’s kind, though. Kinder than I expected, especially after watching him kill so many of my clan. I think...” Tobirama trails off, looking down at his cervus companion, seeming uncertain. “I think he’s nicer to me than anyone, though. I used to think it was because he hated me, but now?”

Madara leans forward. Was this man an Uchiha? If they had killed much of the Senju clan, then it was possible, but as far as Madara could tell, Tobirama hated the Uchiha. Something about this, though, it was striking a chord. 

“Now I’m pretty sure it’s because he watched me when I went after Izuna.”

Madara freezes.

“I was going to kill him. I’m not ashamed to admit that. I needed to protect my family at all costs.

There’s no way

“But I didn’t. I looked down, and I could see when he accepted it, and in that moment,”

Is he really-

“I saw that Izuna wasn’t even looking at me anymore.”

Talking about-

“His eyes were locked on someone else.”

Me?

“Madara.”

He almost falls out of the tree, the dawning horror of everything Tobirama has said until now crashing over him.

“He was looking, too. Those two made eye-contact, and the only thing I could see was Itama. Scared, and alone, and probably desperately trying to find his way back to his two older brothers to protect him,” Tobirama gently strokes its muzzle, looking into the stag’s eye. “I couldn’t do it. I used the flat of my blade, and I knocked him out. I suppose it was useful in its own way, as it gave Madara both the Mangekyou and a reason to accept the treaty of peace. I don’t regret that.”

Madara staggers backwards, trying not to let his chakra fluctuate too violently and alert Tobirama of his presence. He’s certain he makes some sort of noise, though, as the stag looks in his direction before languidly standing up and shaking itself off.

“Ah, is that all for tonight, friend?” Tobirama asks it. 

It turns, nuzzling into his hand and stays still for a moment longer.

“I wonder, when the day will come where Madara finally stops chasing my brother, and instead looks at me.” 

He sighs.

“A man can hope, right?” the Senju inquires with a small smile. “Have a good night, and thank you for listening. You are much better at this than my idiotic older brother.”

The deer simply tosses its head and walks away. Tobirama follows suit, quietly walking out of the clearing and back towards the village. Madara simply sits there, floored, for about 30 minutes before he finally feels his head pull back on correctly.

“That bastard put a seal on my door frame?” he hisses, before shooting off into the night.

Oh, Hashirama was in for a thrashing when Madara got his hands on him. He was not fucking in love with the arrogant asshole!

[creator-zee]

219

    I hated this. I hated it so much. There were so many people. It was a big house, even by mansion standards, and yet people still crowded everywhere. I was far too nervous to eat, despite being starving, and I was surrounded by strangers. I had no idea why the Alpha had requested me to come here. They weren’t even my Alpha, but the Alpha of a neighboring pack. Why in the world had they insisted on me coming? I wasn’t even technically part of a pack, I just lived in the town that the two packs were near.

    I was technically a rogue, a rogue and a hybrid and I had to keep my scent carefully hidden, so that no one would know, but there were so many people. I reached for my necklace, rubbing my fingers against the simple chain. It reassured me. No one could know what I was, and no one knew who I was.

    A crowd of drunk wolves began moving towards my small corner of peace and I began moving to find another spot. I stopped when over the alcohol and sweat a strong scent filled my nostrils. It wasn’t bad, but I wouldn’t say I loved it. It reminded me of one of those deodorants named with something stupid that didn’t actually decribe the scent.

    It was distractingly strong though.

    It’s your mate’s scent. My wolf, Burr, said in my mind.

    Why do they smell like that? I demanded of my wolf, who did a mental shrug.

    I don’t make the rules. She said.

    I sighed. Whatever, it’s not like I can let them find me. 

I continued moving through the crowd, only for another scent to make itself known. It was just as strong as the other, but different.

    Answers. I demanded of Burr.

    She did another mental shrug. Like I said, I don’t make the rules. But I can tell you, that’s also your mate’s scent. Just a different one?

    You don’t sound very confident. I scoffed.

    Burr didn’t respond but sent a handful of irritation and annoyance my way. I just sent amusement back.

    Maybe it’s a side effect of some enchantment. I suggested.

    Maybe. Burr mumbled, non committedly.

    I almost ran right into someone, because I was distracted talking to Burr, but I stopped myself at the last second, quickly stepping back and moving to the side. I had to resist the urge to cover my nose though because the scent was so strong. Eventually, I gave in and pressed my sleeve over for my face. It did little to dull the overwhelming scent - scents.

    God I just wanted some fresh air. If this scent really was my mate, wasn’t it supposed to smell good? It was just strong.

    I realized with horror as I tried to make my way to a balcony that I had no idea if my enchantment would work to stop my mate from being able to smell me. I realized there wasn’t anything else I could do. I couldn’t risk angering the Alpha by leaving early. I already had a life here, I didn’t need to uproot it. The pack’s were willing to ignore my presence as long as I didn’t cause trouble. I didn’t intend to ruin that.

    I breathed in a deep breath, lowering my sleeve as I made it to a balcony. Fresh air. It lasted a few seconds before the scents returned. I also heard a couple fo people approaching, so I spun to face them, intending to duck behind them and find somewhere else. Would it be considered rude to climb onto the roof?

    Probably. Burr cut in.

    I didn’t bother formulating a response, just letting her feel my irritation.

    The two women saw me. Their scents were so strong. Oh no. They were my mates.

    “Don’t leave on our account.” One of them said, the taller (although not by much) one.

    I noticed their interlaced hands. They had found each other. They knew they were mates. I didn’t see any recognition in their eyes, they must not be able to smell me, and as such they have no idea they have another mate. A strange mix of disappointment and relief flooded through me.

    “I don’t recognize you.” The other one, who had black hair and piercing green eyes said.

    The tall brunette, who’s brown eyes found my own, added. “I can’t place your scent. It’s almost like you don’t have one.”

    I forced a life. “What a strange idea? But, it makes sense you wouldn’t know me.”

    “Why?” Black hair asked.

    “I’m not part of this Alpha’s pack.” I explained, calmly.

    “Why would they invite an outsider?” Brown hair asked, addressing her partner.

    She shrugged and I shrugged. “I have no idea, but I wasn’t going to risk angering them.”

    “There you are.” A new voice said, from behind the pair.

    I startled, straightening up, as I saw the Alpha behind them. I bowed.

    “Sorry, I didn’t know you were looking for me.” I apologized.

    “It’s fine.” They brushed off. “I just wanted to have a chat with you.”

    “Here?” I asked, uncomfortable, still not rising out of my bow.

    “Yes.” They said flatly.

    I stood up straight, glancing at the two wolves who hadn’t left, uncertain what their Alpha expected from them.

    “Is there a problem?” They asked.

    “I’m just a very… private… person.” I said, uncertainly, my gaze still jumping between my mates and the Alpha.

    “I can see that.” The Alpha remarked, and pointed to my necklace that I had subconsciously reached for. “You’re so private you hide your scent.”

    So, the Alpha knew magic, or at least had a witch friend who could. There was no point denying it, so I nodded.

    “I didn’t want every wolf here to attack me at first smell.” I said. “I felt it was a necessary precaution.”

    The Alpha’s eyes searched me as if looking for a lie. “I suppose that’s reasonable, but I am here now, and I can guarantee no one will attack you while I’m right here, so you can take it off now.”

    “With all due respect Alpha, I don’t see why that’s necessary.” I said, fighting to keep my voice level. I felt increasingly cornered. I really didn’t want to reveal my scent.

    “I like to know who I’m dealing with.” They said. “Think of it as a favor for not chasing you off my territory.”

    “I don’t want any trouble.” I said.

    “Then take off the necklace.” They said.

    “I can just tell you what it’s hiding.” I said. I didn’t want my mate to know. I didn’t want them to reject me. If I kept the necklace on, they could live in blissful ignorance.

    “Your refusal just makes me more curious.” They said. “What are you hiding?”

    “Why did you ask me to come here anyways?” I asked, changing the subject.

    “Because I wanted to get to know you.” They said. “So, take off the necklace.”

    I still hesitated, searching for any excuse. My breathing had increased with my discomfort, between the overwhelming scents and the Alpha’s demand I just wanted to leave.

    I had a death grip on my necklace.

    “I would really prefer to not take it off.” I repeated.

    “I already know you are a rogue and a hybrid, what is there to hide?” The Alpha pressed.

    My mates gasped. Black hair recovered the fastest.

    “A hybrid? Of what and what?” She asked, and I could see the horror on her face slowly growing.

    “A werewolf and a shapeshifter.” I answered.

    “Not a vampire?” The Alpha asked, confused.

    “No, not a vampire.” I confirmed.

    “Are hybrids really that bad?” The brunette asked.

     I shrugged. “It depends who you ask.”

    “Hybrids killed my family.” Black hair growled.

    “Well, I didn’t.” I pointed out. “It’s not my fault.”

    “Your kind did.” She snarled.

    “Did you know that werewolves killed my family? And yet, I’m not trying to kill all of you.” I huffed.

    “Is that true?” The Alpha asked.

    “Does it matter?” I scowled.

    “Yes.” Black-hair snarled.

    “I don’t know who killed my family.” I admitted. “But, you should not hold me responsible for the actions of people I don’t even know.”

    “She’s right.” The Alpha said. “Besides it was a vampire with a vampire hybrid. Ciel had nothing to do with that. So calm yourself Monique, I promised no harm would come to her.“

    Monique’s partner placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “She didn’t hurt you Nic.”

    “Thanks Steph.” Monique murmured.

    “Can I go now?” I asked.

    “I still want to talk to you.” The Alpha said.

    “Why?” I asked, irritated. I just wanted to leave and get a breath of fresh air.

    “You can shapeshift right?” The Alpha asked.

    I hesitated and nodded.

    “And you’re strong. I want you to join my pack.” The Alpha said. “I could use someone strong like you.”

    I couldn’t stop myself from laughing. “You seriously think a pack will accept me. You saw Monique’s reaction. She’s not the only one who will react like that.”

    “You already hide your scent, no one would have to know.” The Alpha pressed.

    “I’m not joining any pack.” I asserted. “If that’s all you wanted, this was a waste of time and I would like to leave.”

    “Fine.” The Alpha relented. “But if you ever decide to join a pack, come to me first.”

    “Thank you.” I said, and brushed past them, heading out of the party, thankful that once I made it out of the crowded mansion the air was clear.

    Finally, I was free. I just wanted to go home, get out of this stuffy tux and eat some food.

    The scent was back. Why?

    I turned and saw Monique and Steph approaching me. Why were they approaching me? Had they figured it out?

    “Hi, Ciel?” Monique greeted.

    I nodded. “Yeah?”

    “I just wanted to apologize. I shouldn’t have lashed out at you for something that’s not your fault.” She apologized.

    “Okay…” I muttered, not sure how to react. I really wasn’t happy about the scent still being so strong. How did mates stand this all the time?

    Be nicer. They’re your mates. Burr chided.

    “Can I treat you to a drink to make up for it?” She asked.

    I glanced between her and Steph. “It almost sounds like you’re asking me on a date?”

    I expected Steph to lash out, mates could be protective, but she seemed oddly unaffected.

    She just laughed. “That would be bold, to ask another girl out right in front of her mate. Especially since we just met tonight.”

    I laughed. “I’m glad you didn’t beat me up just for suggesting it.”

    Monique and Steph shared a glance. Maybe saying something over the link. A pang of jealousy rose up, but I quickly squashed it.

    Just tell them. Burr urged. They already know.

    Knowing me is one thing, and being my mate is another. I explained to Burr. I’m not risking it.

    Burr just huffed, annoyed with me, drawn to our mates.

    I still hadn’t had time to process that I had two mates. That was weird in itself.

    “So? Will you let me buy you a drink?” Monique asked again.

    I nodded. “Coffee tomorrow morning, ten o’clock at Angelina’s Coffee Emporium.”

    “See you then.” Monique said. “I’ll let you go now. Have a good night?”

    “Have a good night.” I returned and finally went back to my apartment.

    I barely managed to strip my clothes off and set an alarm before collapsing into my bed exhausted.

219.1

    I pulled a hoodie over my head as I walked down the apartment hall. I had decided to walk to the cafe, mainly because I lacked a car, but that also meant that I was now running fifteen minutes late. I would have to run part of the way.

    I left the apartment building at a run. If I ran the first part I could use the second part to catch my breath. I stopped running when I was about a block away. I probably should’ve stopped earlier if I really wanted to catch my breath. When I arrived, I was still slightly out of breath.

    I smelled them before I saw them, and wished double that I wasn’t breathing more than normal. They were sitting at a table. Monique waved at me. I smiled and slid into the chair across from them.

    “Did you run here?” Monique asked.

    I nodded, a bit sheepish. “I was running late.”

    “You could’ve been a little late. I wouldn’t have minded.” Monique said.

    “It’s rude.” I said. “I try to avoid being rude to people.”

    “What do you want?” She asked. “I said I’d buy you a drink.”

    “Just a hot cocoa.” I said.

    “Really?” Steph spoke up for the first time, and Monique left to go get my drink.

    “Caffeine doesn’t affect me anyways.” I shrugged. “And coffee doesn’t taste good.”

    “Really? Not at all?” Steph asked, curious.

    “Nope.” I confirmed.

    “Huh.” She muttered.

    “I’m a bit curious why you tagged along.” I admitted. “You can’t really be scared that I’ll steal your mate, are you?”

    Steph shook her head. “No, I’m just clingy. If you want me to leave, I can.”

    “No, no, it’s fine.” I rushed to say. “I was just curious, I’m not that interesting.”

    “Don’t sell yourself short.” She said. “You’re more interesting than other people who have dragged me out on coffee dates.”

    “Technically, your mate dragged me.” I corrected with a smile.

    Steph laughed, as Monique returned, handing my drink to me.

    “And I thought Steph was the one who had to be worried about you stealing her mate, but you’re already making her laugh.” Monique joked as she sat back down reaching for Steph’s hand.

    I felt another pang of jealousy rise, but I quickly squashed it, smiling.

    “Trust me I have no interest in stealing your mate, either one.” I said.

    Monique laughed. “I’m glad. Then I might actually have to fight you.”

    “Would you win that fight?” Steph joked.

    “What makes you think I’m a fighter?” I joked.

    Steph shrugged. “A vibe I guess. You may not have a scent but you still scream danger.”

    “Probably because I’m a rogue.” I shrugged. “Some wolf instinct.”

    With that logic they should be able to tell that you’re their mate. Burr pointed out. I hated to admit it, but she was right.

    Ha. She cheered victoriously.

    Monique shrugged. “I would say it’s because of those killer muscles, but I can’t see any.”

    I raised an eyebrow. “Who said I’m fit? Wouldn’t I want to show of my ‘killer muscles?’”

    “Alpha Alex wanted to recruit you.” Steph pointed out. “They wouldn’t want to accept a fighter who couldn’t fight.”

    “What makes you think Alpha Alex knows if I have muscles? They wanted to recruit me purely on the fact that I’m a shapeshifter.” I said, before taking a sip of my drink.

    “Didn’t they say that you’re strong though.” Monique pointed out.

    “They technically never asked me, just assumed.” I said, shrugging.

    Silence fell for a bit before Monique broke it. “I have to admit, I’m curious. Why did you refuse to take off your necklace if the Alpha already knew what you were?”

    Steph elbowed Monique, saying in a hushed whisper. “You can’t just ask that.”

    “I’m a very private person.” I muttered.

    “Without your scent how will your mate find you?” Monique asked.

    I smiled sadly at the irony. “They won’t.”

    “Don’t you want to find your mate?” Monique pressed.

    “I don’t need to be rejected.” I muttered. “I’m a hybrid and a rogue. Not exactly perfect wife material.”

    “I still think they deserve a chance to choose.” Monique said.

    Yeah, they deserve a chance. Burr so helpfully cut in.

    “I’ve heard rejection hurts.” I defended myself. “This way they don’t have to go through that. They just don’t realize I exist.”

    “But, won’t they always feel like a part of them is missing?” Monique asked.

    I shrugged. “I think people should feel whole all by themselves. Besides after enough time they’ll just choose someone who either hasn’t found a mate or got rejected.” Or go with their other mate. I added in my head.

    “I mean I’m not arguing with the first part.” Monique said, and I sensed a but.

    “But, I don’t think you should make that choice from them.” She finished.

    Just tell them. Burr urged me.

    “If they knew they’d thank me.” I said. “No one wants to get stuck with a rogue for a mate, much less a hybrid.”

    Steph suddenly spoke up. “Is that why you refused to take your necklace off. You didn’t want your mate to find you.”

    Damn, she was smart.

    “But we were on a balcony...” Moniue trailed off. “They wouldn’t have caught oto your scent.”

    “With how strong a mate scent is. I’d be surprised if they couldn’t smell me from a block away.” I muttered, all too aware of their mate smell that was still just as strong, and just as overwhelming, especially at this close proximity.

    “They were there? You smelled them, and you didn’t go to them?” Monique demanded, voice raising.

    I flinched back from her. “I - I already explained it to you. I don’t want to find my mate.”

    But I do. Burr spoke up, and I felt her wrestling for control.

    I gripped the table, as I fought to remain in control. She was at the disadvantage because I was a hybrid, so my wolf was weaker, but she could be very stubborn.

    “What’s going on?” Monique asked, concerned. “I’m sorry for raising my voice.”

    “It’s not that.” I muttered, glancing up to meet her eyes, and then she understood. No doubt my eyes were flashing between my blue eyes and Burr’s brown eyes.

    It was a very strange sensation, and I closed my eyes, but it didn’t go away.

    “Why is your wolf trying to gain control right now?” Monique asked.

    “She doesn’t agree with my opinions on mates.” I forced out, struggling to concentrate and talk.

    “I want to hear what she has to say.” Monique admitted quietly.

    “Trust me you don’t.” I hissed.

 “Would you just give it a rest Burr?” I said out loud on accident. “We already agreed not to tell them.”

I realized my slip up too late. Dammit, now they were sure to ask.

“What did you agree -” She was cut off mid question by Steph elbowing her.

“We barely know her.” Steph said. “She doesn’t need to spill all her secrets.”

“But what do we have to do with her mate?” Monique ask, pointing at me while facing Steph.

“It doesn’t matter.” Steph asserted. “She’ll tell us on her own time.”

Monique sighed. “Fine, but you can’t blame me for being curious.”

Burr finally gave up, and I sighed in relief.

“Finally.” I muttered.

“I’m impressed you were able to hold a conversation while keeping control.” Steph said.

I shrugged. “I’m a hybrid. My wolf is only half as strong.”

“Ah.” Steph muttered.

“Does that mean you can only half shapeshift?” Monique asked.

“Uhhh.... no.” I said. “I just can’t hold the shape forever, like a full-blooded shifter.”

219.1 (a while later) (skipping the middle bits like I always do)

          “What’s all this?” I asked Monique and Steph as I stepped into their apartment and saw a fancy dinner with candles and romantic music playing.

        I chuckled slightly as I slipped off my jacket. “You know I’m not actually dating you right?” I joked, referencing a long standing joke since our first coffee meeting.

        Both Monique and Steph were not nervous than I was used too, but Monique spoke first.

        “About that, Steph and I have been talking.” She began, a bit hesitant.

        I nodded, smiling as I joked. “Always worrying.”

       They both laughed a little, and I smiled at getting them to lighten up.

        Monique continued after becoming serious again, but she was more confident. “I know it’s strange, and especially unusual for werewolves, but Steph and I wanted to ask you to date us.”

         Shock spread across my features. I had never thought I could have a romantic relationship with them, not since I made the (admittedly poor) decision to withhold my status as their mate.

         Steph misinterpreted my shock. “I know, I know. Polyamory isn’t really a werewolf thing with the whole mates and possessive stuff, but both Monique and I feel like we’re missing something and we feel more whole with you.”

         I grasped my necklace tears pricking at my eyes. 

        “Hey, Ciel, it’s okay. We understand if you say no.” Monique rushed to say, hesitating about placing a comforting hand on my shoulder.

       “It’s not that.” I said, my voice barely a whisper and cracking. 

       “Then what?” Monique probed gently.

       “There’s something I need to tell you. Something you both deserve to know and that I should’ve told you long ago. And I understand if you hate me for keeping this from you.” I rambled, tears beginning to spill. “I could tell you, but there’s a better way. I think. I don’t know. I never planned on telling you because I was scared of your anger.”

        Monique and Steph shared matching expressions of concern, but waited for me to continue.

        I took a deep breath before pulling my necklace off. 

        “I’m your mate.” I muttered. 

         I looked up fearfully seeing shock slowly fade to confusion and then, expectedly, anger.

         “You knew? All this time? And you said nothing?” Monique asked, voice empty.

         I nodded, tears spilling faster, necklace grilled tightly in my hands, as I resisted the temptation to put it back on. For the first time in years though the scent of my mates seemed to become more manageable, more pleasant. I had grown used to it, but now it was better, not just ignored.

        “Why?” Steph asked quietly. “Why hide it?”

        “Fear.” I admitted. 

        I was surprised by Burr’s silence. I had suspected her to butt in when I finally revealed the truth. 

[serenlyss]

Concordat

Rating: G Relationships: ritsu&reigen, ritsu&shigeo Summary: He’s expecting another old woman searching for a beloved family cat, or maybe a young man concerned about a cheating partner, but instead he finds himself face-to-face with a kid. “Is this… Spirits and Such Detective Agency?" (When Reigen Arataka, PI, decided to pursue a career as a detective, he'd never expected to take on a missing persons case. Then again, he hadn't expected to receive said case from a literal child, either, and yet, here he is.) Crossposted to AO3: Concordat

Concordat - An agreement or treaty relating to matters of mutual interest.

This is a gift for my dear friends @winsstar-writes and @pigpantpoop on tumblr for their Detective AU, which I've just fallen in love with so fast hahaha. So here's more Ritsu and Reigen content bc I love their dynamic So Much. I hope you two like it, ily <3

---

Reigen sinks into his office chair, letting his whole body slouch with a long sigh. Business is slow at the agency today, and he’s bored out of his mind waiting for someone to show up and give him something to do. Outside his window, he can hear rain hitting the sill, a gentle summer storm outside chasing the pedestrians indoors. He has no clients scheduled for the rest of the day, and it’s only just past lunch, which means he’s going to spend the rest of the work day sitting around, doing nothing.

He rummages around in his suit pocket for a cigarette and lighter, leaning over his desk. He holds the cigarette between his lips and lights it up, uncaring of the cloud of smoke that leaves his lips and hangs around him. Briefly, he thinks that he must stink of it, and that it won’t make a very good impression if a client walks in on him smoking in his own office, but he can’t bring himself to care, today. He leans back in the chair again, blowing smoke toward the ceiling. Maybe I should just pack it up, move on to something else, he laments with a frown. He’d left a comfortable office job for this, but, well, he’d always been a bit of a drifter. Perhaps the detective life just isn’t what he’s cut out for, after all.

The chime of a bell reaches his ear as the front door to his office is opened, and he hastily moves to put out his cigarette, pressing it down into the ashtray at the corner of his desk. “Come in,” he calls, voice cracking slightly as he attempts to put on his cheerful customer service voice, and pushes himself up from his chair to greet his guest.

He’s expecting another old woman searching for a beloved family cat, or maybe a young man concerned about a cheating partner, but instead he finds himself face-to-face with a kid.

“Is this… Spirits and Such Detective Agency?” asks the literal child who’s come to greet him. He can’t be older than ten, considering the primary school uniform he wears, and he looks up at Reigen from beneath a furrowed brow, dark gray eyes scrutinizing him carefully. His black hair sticks up in all directions, like he’d just rolled out of bed before coming here. Reigen is deeply unimpressed, but, well, it can’t hurt to humor a child for a little while.

“Yeah, this is the place. What can I do for you?” Reigen asks, opting for a plastic smile as he beckons the boy inside.

The boy shuffles a bit on his feet, looking around the office with undeniable skepticism written all over his face, and then reluctantly takes a step inside. The door falls quietly shut behind him, and he hovers in the entryway. His gaze is more deliberate and calculating than most adult clients Reigen’s had. “You’re the detective?” he clarifies, flashing Reigen that uncertain look again.

Reigen resists the urge to sigh. What was with this kid? “Reigen Arataka, PI, at your service! I must say, I don’t get a lot of kids coming here, though. What’s the matter, you lose something?” He can’t fathom why an elementary school student would come to him for answers, of all people, or what a kid would find so important that he’d need the help of a detective to find. It must be some kind of prank.

The kid shakes his head, clinging to the straps of his backpack as though he can’t figure out what else to do with his hands. “No--I mean, yes, but not like what you’re--I’m looking for my brother!” he stammers, fumbling over his words nervously. He looks away, seemingly embarrassed, his face flushed pink. “Nobody else I talked to would take me seriously… the police keep saying they’re going to find him, but they won’t even listen to me when I tell them--” Suddenly, the kid freezes, cutting himself off abruptly.

The mention of a missing brother makes Reigen pause in his tracks, halfway to his desk where he usually sits and consults with clients. He’s an only child himself, but the thought of losing a sibling… He shakes his head, turning to face the boy and raising a brow at him. “Tell them what?” he prompts, though he honestly isn’t really sure he wants to know.

The kid looks up at him with uncertainty, eyes filled with distrust, then glances away again. “My brother… he was kidnapped because he’s an esper,” he mumbles, and quickly adds, “I know it sounds stupid and crazy, but it’s true! I’ve tried to tell the police, but they don’t listen to me! Your sign said you specialize in psychic cases, right?”

Reigen freezes. He’d known at the time that adding that caveat was a stupid idea, but he hadn’t expected anyone to come to him about a missing esper. He’d only done it to attract the easily-manipulated types, the older folks who believe in spirits and the gullible people who think throwing around a little table salt is enough to exorcise them, but this is in a league of its own. “Esper?” he echoes, feeling the dread inside of him multiply.

“Yeah, that’s what I said!” The boy says, impatient. “Everyone keeps telling me to give it more time, but it’s been months now. I can’t give up on finding him!” He fixes Reigen with what is potentially the most determined expression the man has ever seen on such a young child, hands balled into tight fists that quiver with barely-contained emotion. “So? You can do it, right?”

For a few long moments, Reigen can do nothing but stare, and then he clenches his teeth, glaring. “Is this some kind of joke?” he blurts, annoyed. “It’s not funny, kid, so just give it up already.” The words come out a bit harsher than he intends them to be, a hint of spite behind them, but he can’t find it in himself to be remorseful.

He expects the kid to give up then, to either admit to his prank or burst into tears or do some other kid thing, but instead he gets angry. “I’m not lying!” he snaps, stomping a foot on the floor in his outburst. “Two months ago, my older brother disappeared while he was walking home from school. I wasn’t there ‘cause I was in the hospital, but I know he wouldn’t have just wandered off! Someone took him, and I need to find him!” He’s rambling, the words tumbling from his mouth without much forethought, and Reigen can practically feel his desperation in the air. He continues, “I-I can’t just leave things the way they were, I can’t. I have to find him, I’m going to find him. I have to be someone for him, be there for him! If I don’t try, then what kind of lousy brother am I?”

The kid sniffles and reaches up to his eyes, just inches in front of Reigen, and it’s only then that Reigen realizes that the child has begun to cry, big crocodile tears that leave his eyes red and puffy and his nose a little wet. He can feel his brain short-circuiting at the sight of the crying boy; he has very little experience with kids, and would never, in a thousand years, consider himself the kind of person a child goes to for help or comfort. And yet here one is, crying in the middle of his office and all but begging for his help. He takes a breath, steadying his racing thoughts. I’ve never attempted a missing person case before, he thinks to himself, but something keeps him from outright refusing. Ask me to find a cat, sure, but a whole-ass person? I’m not equipped for this… Then again, had he ever really been equipped for a job? He’d always prided himself on being flexible with the kinds of jobs he would take--’flexible’ is a lot nicer of a word than ‘unqualified’--and, well, crying children have a certain persuasion of their own about them.

He isn’t sure what possesses him to do it, but he reaches up and pulls the tan hat from his head, pressing it against the boy’s mop of dark hair with a gentle puff. “Alright, enough of the tears. It’s not exactly my line of work, but what the hell--heck, what the heck?” He corrects himself with a cringe of embarrassment, but the kid doesn’t seem to mind all that much as he peeks out from beneath the brim of Reigen’s too-large hat in bewilderment. “Why don’t we start with a name, huh? Since you barged in here and demanded I help you out.”

The boy blinks, and a little light returns to his dark gaze. “Oh, my brother’s name is Shigeo,” he says, a little breathless, like he’s still processing the fact that he’s finally receiving the help he’s been searching for.

“Well, I was talking about your name, but that’s important, too,” Reigen corrects, flashing the boy an amused smile.

The boy flinches, and immediately the bewilderment is gone, replaced by a childish little pout that’s probably meant to be angry but comes across more endearing instead. Endearing… god, what is wrong with me today? Reigen berates himself. He’s in way over his head. “Kageyama Ritsu,” the boy replies stiffly, clearly embarrassed and attempting to hide it behind a stubborn frown.

Reigen moves over to his desk and flips his pad open to a new page, retrieving a pen and starting to jot down the two names. There will be lots of details to gather, still, but for now he’ll stick to the basics. Once he’s written down the two names and started to organize his messy thoughts, he gestures Ritsu over to sit in the chair across from him. He sets his pen down and clasps his hands in front of him on the desk, putting on his business face. “Alright, then, Ritsu, let’s talk.”

[gumnut-logic]

Dirt (Part Eight)

From here.

For @ak47stylegirl - I promise I will return to Alan soon - I kinda knocked him out, so he isn’t very chatty at the moment. Also this chapter talks about Virgil, but since he is as unconscious as Alan, um, he doesn’t say much either.  ::pines for the lack of the Virg::

As always, many thanks to @vegetacide and @scribbles97 for their help with this fic...you know that couple hundred words I scribbled down in ten minutes before work just so I could write something...yeah, that fic which is now approaching 11,000 words in length ::headdesk:: I’m still writing V.T. Green, I promise!

Warnings: a little bit of language, and Pen and Ink in this bit :D

-o-o-o-

All of London startled and looked up as multiple Thunderbirds streaked through the clouds above the city. The legendary ships roared in concert at speeds enough to blink and miss.

John played his instruments like the genius he was. Eos had Shadow and One while he concentrated on Two, his brothers’ lives in his hands. Above him, the holographic system let their vitals dance. Alan’s were the poorest, but Virgil’s were dipping lower. Gordon’s had the potential to follow.

“Thunderbird Five, you have clearance at Northolt and permission to land in the parking lot at Hillingdon Hospital.” Colonel Casey paused a moment before switching to the Aunt who loved them. “God’s speed, John.”

He murmured a thank you, but his concentration was total as he manoeuvred Two in for a clean landing beside Accident and Emergency at the London Hospital. Sensors sketched out Eos doing similar at the military base with One and Shadow.

FAB1 streaked in behind Two and landed smoothly beside her huge sister.

“Eos, you have control. I’m going down.” His daughter’s acknowledgement was lost amongst his thoughts.

-o-o-o-

“Gordon, time to go.”

He blinked and found himself leaning on Penelope’s shoulder. What?

A hand reached up and brushed his hair out of his eyes. His helmet lay on the floor of the car and the odd thought that Grandma would disapprove wandered through his head.

He had the distinct impression that moving was going to hurt, and as he levered himself upright, he found he was too right for his own good. Worse, a groan forced itself out between his teeth.

So much for the stoic hero.

“Stay still.” Her hand ghosted over his arm and she disappeared from his side, only to reappear through the open door on his other side. Her hand touched his cheek and he found himself staring into her beautiful blue eyes.

He could have sat and stared all day.

“Well, my dearest, you don’t have all day. Though I will take the compliment as it was intended.” The smile on her face sparkled.

A blink and he shook himself, trying to focus. His head was foggy. Not a good sign with a bleeding injury. A glance down at himself and he found his shoulder padded and wrapped in bandages. When had that happened? Despite the proficiency of its application, the gauze was stained red and the red was spreading.

Penelope was urging him out of the car.

Damn, he had bled all over the upholstery. “Sorry.”

“Not to worry about that now, Gordon. It is time to go. We don’t want to worry Scott, now do we.”

No, Scott was grey enough already. Though not as grey as the time Gordon had powdered his brother’s hair in his sleep. Now that had been the perfect prank. Spring-loaded pillow launcher and all.

“Well, no wonder he has grey hairs.” She was pulling gently on his uninjured arm. “Out you come.”

“I can carry him, if you like, m’Lady.”

That snapped him out of it. Gordon threw himself out of the car and almost landed on his face as his equilibrium redefined his centre of gravity as being somewhere closer to the south pole.

“Oh dear.” Two sets of hands caught him; one pair gentler than the other.

“Are you quite all right, Mister Gordon?”

“Fine, Parker.” To prove it, he took a step forward...and yes, the ground again attempted to connect with his forehead.

“I think, sir, that you should lie down.” Parker’s hands were firm on his arm as the world continued to wobble.

Now that just wouldn’t do. “No, no, I can walk.” He straightened and tried not to groan.

“Are you sure, sir?”

No. “I’ll be fine.”

“Gordon, you have a bullet hole in your shoulder. Please do not risk your health on my account.” And before he could protest, Penny had slipped herself under his good arm and wrapped hers around his waist.

Despite everything, he found it several kinds of wonderful to be held by her.

Her perfume was all flowery.

Under her power, they made it slowly but surely in the direction of accident and emergency. At one point a huddle of nurses and doctors dashed past. Not long after he was confronted by his eldest brother, worry in the blue of his eyes.

“Hey, Scott.” A blink and two important factors shot to the forefront of his brain. “Alan? Virgil?” There had been dirt. So much dirt.

Those eyes turned in askance to Penelope and their brow crinkled before darting back to him. “C’mon, Gordon, time for you to lie down.”

Scott took him gently from Penelope. “Hey, I wanna stay with Penny.”

“I’m not leaving you, Gordon. Please lie down and relax.” She reached out and touched his cheek again.

That was nice.

Her gentle smile was even nicer.

“Okay, loverboy, rest time for you.” And Scott was manhandling him onto a hover stretcher. A nurse appeared from nowhere and he was being dragged into the concrete maze of the major hospital.

Penny held his hand.

And he held on tight.

-o-o-o-

John hit atmosphere and the elevator’s thrusters kicked in with a roar.

Data streamed into his tablet. Further information on the man who had captured his brothers and the implications of the events that followed.

The man was dead. GDF forces had swooped in and picked survivors out of the rubble, forced to do the job of IR while fifty percent of their operatives were being hospitalised. International Rescue was down for the count.

Eos was juggling incoming calls. John had calls of his own to make.

Grandma was beside herself with worry and Kayo was on her way to collect the Tracy matriarch.

John was on his way to collect Scott. Or at least the pieces of him that were likely all over the waiting room floor.

Scott never managed well when a brother was injured and this time there were three. One critically and two not far from joining him. While John worried about Alan, Virgil and Gordon, Scott was a concern of another kind.

And he wasn’t answering his comms.

It was a long eight minutes to London.

Gravity was its usual annoyance, as were the odd and gawking stares in his direction as he landed in the parking lot. With TB2 having made her entrance and exit shortly before, the press had been alerted and he found himself subject to a lot of unwanted media attention.

“John Tracy! Can you tell us what happened?”

“How many members of International Rescue have died?”

“Who shot the extremist?”

“Is Alan Tracy dead?”

“Who inherits International Rescue?”

What the f-? There were flashing lights all around him, holocams hovering about like bees.

John hated crowds, especially those involving the press. Scott went out of his way to make sure he wasn’t exposed to them, but his brother wasn’t available right now.

Head down, no eye contact. “No comment.”

“No comment.”

They crowded in on him and he grit his teeth.

A sharp crack and a yelp. A squawk and the clattering of plastic on concrete. A scream and a flash of light. John looked up to find holocams falling like rain. One close to him simply stopped and dropped. Another sparked, spun and dove at the nearest reporter. She screamed and ran.

The holocam chased her.

Oh.

The crowd began to disperse in erratic squeals and yelps of fear. John took advantage and dashed through to the doors of the hospital. Behind him, the elevator fired its thrusters, adding to the confusion, and launched towards orbit.

“Eos, you are dangerous.”

“Yes, John, and don’t you forget it.” The amusement in her voice had him smiling.

“Thank you.”

“You are welcome.”

A glance at the fast disappearing elevator, he turned and hurried inside.

-o-o-o-

Scott was stuck in the waiting room.

He hated waiting rooms. He hated waiting.

But more than anything he hated hospital waiting rooms. Stark and miserable they were turning points between pain and relief.

And the chairs always sucked.

His head was pounding.

Brains and Moffie had left to find them all some food, Moffie dragging Brains behind her. Penny sat not far from him, prim and neat as always, Parker beside her, ever vigilant. She smiled gently at him if he looked in her direction.

He didn’t look in her direction.

She had handed Gordon over to him, concern in her eyes as his little brother played the manly card before passing out completely almost as soon as Scott had managed to get him onto the stretcher. Same reason as his other two brothers were in this god forsaken place - blood loss.

Too much Tracy blood had been spilt today.

And why? Who was that asshole? His eyes still stared at him over that gun barrel. Two still loomed behind him. Virgil still lay limp on the ground, pain in every breath.

The grapple gun and that godawful crunch of bone.

No expression, no sound. Just gone.

Cable trailing.

The backwash of its passing had been like a sudden breeze.

The sound of Virgil in pain.

So much pain.

“Scott?” The voice was soft, and unmarred by space static. He looked up to find John standing in front of him, still in his uniform, solid, dependable and there.

Pushing himself to his feet, he met his younger brother eye to eye. A beat and Scott wrapped his arms around him and tugged John close. A breath against the smooth material of John’s spacesuit and his brother returned the embrace.

“How are they?”

Scott bit his lip. “It was close.” God, so close. “But you know that.”

“I do.”

John was no doubt frustrated that he no longer had access to his brothers’ vital stats now their uniforms had been removed. Scott squeezed him just a touch tighter. “You gonna hack the hospital?”

“Give me five.”

And with that they separated, John taking a seat beside him. Sure enough, less than five minutes later, John was holding up his tablet with three columns of stats scrolling across it.

All three were stable. Alan was still low and in surgery, as was Virgil. Gordon was being prepped. John flicked a finger and they had video.

“Still with us.”

Scott swallowed and looked down at his hands. “Who was he?”

“A thug. Money, power, the usual.” John’s turquoise gaze narrowed a little at him. “He’s dead.”

“I know.”

“So do the press.”

Scott’s head shot up. “What?”

“One of the questions they threw at me on the way in. ‘Who shot the extremist?’”

“Aw, hell.”

“That is one descriptor.” Scott knew what was coming next. “They are going to want to know the answer to that question.”

“Fuck.” It was little more than breath, but it came from his gut. No. Please, no.

“I couldn’t agree more.”

“He did it to save me.”

“He did it to save all of you.”

Scott let his head drop into his hands. “He may not even remember.”

“It’s on record. Two’s cameras.”

Of course, he knew that. “I know that.” His head throbbed the obvious at him.

John was frowning at him. “Have you seen a doctor? That is quite a shiner you’ve got on the boil there.”

“Too busy with Gordon.” Scott waved off his brother’s concern.

John caught his hand. “Do I need to pull up your stats to convince you? You took a few nasty hits today.”

“Had to, he was going to kill Virgil.”

John’s eyes flickered at that. “It doesn’t change the fact you need attention and probably a bed at the very least.”

“I need to wait for news on Alan, Gordon and Virgil.”

John waved the tablet at him. “Here is your news. I can let you know if anything changes.” Just to piss him off, John stood up, and, pulling him along behind, approached the desk. A few efficient words and Scott was suddenly being escorted to a cubicle.

John followed. No doubt to make sure he got there and stayed.

Any other time he would have stood up to his little brother, dug his heels in and refused. But there had been so much pain today, so much everything, he found he had nothing left.

He just wanted his little brothers to be safe.

It was his job to look after them.

“Scott, take a breath, rest a moment, give yourself a chance to recover.” As Scott sat on the edge of the bed and the nurse darted off to get equipment, John stood directly in front of him and caught his eyes. “We will get through this, I promise. We will find a way.”

A half-hearted smirk. “Isn’t that supposed to be my line?”

John’s lips curled into a soft smile. “I borrowed it from the best.”

-o-o-o-

Part Nine

[his-pair-of-spare-glasses]

Ah I love these How about... No. 5 "Why are you helping me? With Gil and Ardyn

Hello my dear and thank you for prompting!You actually make me post Gilgardyn writing for the first time and I very much hope you will like it. It ran a bit away from me, so prepare for a little wall of text.

It’s an encounter though, so not thaaaat much going on but I still hope it’s okay. I almost forgot about the prompt while writing this.

Of Gravitation and Warmth

Another sun was painting the sky in tired reds and oranges, ready to dim down and give way to the night. Chilly nights, especially outside the capital. Countless times Ardyn had cursed himself for not having learned how to make a fire. Well, there was nothing left but to cover himself in layers of clothing, only to shed them during day time. He had decided to call it “style”, just for a nicer ring to his absence of ignition skill.

Those nights on the road were particularly chilly, if not for the lack of fire then for the absence of company. Of course, Ardyn led a life of a traveler, ready to head wherever direction the darker power was pulling his strings in. It had been that way ever since he had first felt that mysterious tugging and learned the power he had. The power to alleviate the darkness. The power to heal people’s souls.

Ardyn, having led a life without a goal, no clear path to walk upon had been more than glad to have found his calling. He had loved being around people, the more when he was able to help them, humour them perhaps. His little brother had always told him that he had a peculiar sense of humour and he took his pride in it. That was why being in the next village, the next town was a true celebration, sometimes smaller, sometimes bigger but always a delight.

Yet, those warm words and cheers made the intervals in between long and cold. One might have even said lonely, but Ardyn didn’t want to go as far. And they were a necessity, probably even amplifying the warm feeling he would get when entering the next town. Or so he tried to reason about it.

But he couldn’t deny that even the kindness he was met with had grown to carry a distant chill. The people were joyful, yes, they welcomed the Healer and his miracles. And they had come to worship him. Which was where the actual problem might have been. Ardyn had been put up on an imaginary throne, something divine to love but to love from afar. Maybe even something to fear.

“Oh my. I wonder what makes me ponder about such things lately. I shouldn’t, am I not right, my loveable plumed companion?”, the man cooed, scratching the soft spot under the beak of his Chocobo, receiving an affectionate “kweh” in return.Ardyn would continue to do what felt right, even if it meant enduring the cold for a while.

The while was over with the next morning. Deserts heat up rather quickly but Ardyn had made the choice to wander the less accessed parts of the continent. There had to be people not knowing yet that they needed him and this couldn’t stay that way. Even if it meant to cross a desert.

“Well, what makes the desert beautiful is that somewhere it hides a well”, Ardyn hummed, lifting up his spirits as usual while strapping some of his clothing layers onto his riding bird.It was just when the sun was about to burn down too hot for Ardyn’s taste that he arrived in a village. Probably a big one for hot-desert-land standards, with cubic houses made from clay to preserve whatever chill the nights would leave behind for the day and store the heat of day to keep the nights warm.

“Charming little town”, Ardyn murmured to himself scanning over the scenery, content curving his lips. Apparently the word of the Healer had not spread that far. All he received was one or the other glance, curious ones, yes, but more indifferent than excited. An excellent place to work his magic and bring happiness, should he find someone in need.

But first: the well.It was easily found, right up the main street and then turning right to reach the market place - a common place to have a well and a most fitting one as well (Ardyn held back his snort at that thought). He got into talking with one of the elderly women after asking for permission to take some water (manners had to be respected after all). No surprises as there seemed to be some victims to the plague in this town as well, one of them being her grandchild.

“Would you be so kind and let me see her?”, Ardyn smiled at the woman, who was staring back at him with wide eyes.

“But young man, I wouldn’t want you to fall victim to the sickness. A traveler like you should stay of good health.”

Ardyn placed a gentle hand on her shoulders.“Do not fret, milady. The sickness is the reason for my travels.”

The woman’s wish to help her grandchild won over her incredulity and made her believe in Ardyn’s words. She guided him through town, making for her house.It really was a charming village, a little too hot and dusty for Ardyn’s likings but the people seemed friendly.

A curious sight caught the Healer’s eye on the way. In the shadows of a small back alley, a tall and built figure was committed to something that looked like training. Ardyn could not see his face as he had turned his back on him, but he had long silver hair that swayed with every movement. And his attire appeared to be a little too warm for the surroundings. The metal and cloth basically covered everything of the man’s body.Another voyager? Ardyn’s mind lingered a moment until the woman urged him to proceed.

The Scourge had hit the poor little child in a rather ugly way, dusting black blotches or dying skin over her face, a hint of tar glistening in the corner of her mouth.“Hello there young girl”, Ardyn approached the girl, who shied away from him under the blanket. “Now, don’t hide from me, would you? I have come to see you.”

A pair of anxious eyes reappeared from behind the blanket.“But mommy says I cannot see anyone.”

“Well, in that case, how about you close your eyes? You wouldn’t have to see me then, would you?”, Ardyn returned with a wink.

The little girl actually chuckled, much to her grandmother’s surprise. And she really closed her eyes, Gods this was endearing.

“You’re a good girl”, Ardyn murmured, approaching the girl. “Let me offer you something, a present if you will.”

And then he let his magic work. Magic or whatever kind of power it was. He liked to think of it as magic. Anything else might be scary. His hands traced along the face of the child, chasing the pulsating energy that was pulsing through her body. Gladly enough Ardyn could make out the source and started pulling on its imaginary string, the same way it seemed to pull on him.It was a straining procedure and Ardyn had the impression that its toll grew heavier on him every time. But then again maybe this was just due to him traveling so much. When he started healing in the capital it hadn’t been so bad after all. But who was he to complain about a task being exhausting. He created miracles after all.

The good news spread throughout the village like wildfire. That a healer had come to take away their burdens. The poor child’s house shouldn’t be the last Ardyn visited that day. People gathered around him, waited in front of a victim’s house, peeking through doors and windows to see it happen. It was the well known ruckus and Ardyn enjoyed seeing all those faces lighting up, their burdens lifted.

“You!!!”

Ardyn started as a man yelled outside.

“What are you doing here! You are not wanted here, filthy son of a street rat!”

Confused and curious what was going on, he asked the man in front of him for patience as he turned to look out of the window.A group of people had formed some kind of wall, seemingly in defense of the house. Behind this wall there was that same stranger again, the tall one with the pretty hair. Much to Ardyn’s surprise he was wearing an iron mask.

Despite being more than well built and appearing to be a strong warrior of some kind, he ducked his head as the villagers were starting to throw pebbles and stones and made a quick retreat, disappearing into one of the smaller streets.

“Please, do not pay him any attention”, a woman near to him apologised. “We try to keep him from your sight, so please do not fear for your safety.”Ardyn didn’t quite understand what was going on but he was more than interested in finding out. Later. When he was alone again.

Which was the case at sundown, after he had been offered a place to stay the night. On his way to look after his Chocobo (poor thing had to wait for him near the well all day) he spotted him.“Ah, the masked man dressed in a patchwork rug - a stylish one as I might add”, Ardyn greeted the stranger who was sitting on the remains of a wall, all by himself.

The man jerked his head around, visibly caught off guard despite lacking facial features.“Are you sure you’re in the place of mocking me? I suggest you have a look in the mirror”, he returned with a deeper voice and more salt than Ardyn had imagined.

Ardyn twisted his upper body and took one (more or less) gracious turn so the layers he had added to his coat would swing with the movement.“It surely gets cold at night and we don’t want to fall ill, do we? Let us say we fancy the same style”, he returned with an inviting gesture of his hand.“And whom do I have the pleasure of being talking to, if I may ask?”

“Oh great, a prater”, he murmured, his sigh audible against the metal.“It’s not a pleasure, I can assure.”

“Then it is not. But that still doesn’t provide me with a name.”

Ardyn was sure the man in front of him was rolling his eyes. He couldn’t see him, but he could imagine it pretty vividly.

“I don’t owe you anything”, the tall man rumbled back, turning his face away again.

“Ah-ah, not now, you don’t but maybe you will”, Ardyn shot back with a wry smirk, hopping onto the stones next to the stranger who immediately moved away a few inches.“I saw you today, back there at that house and I wondered what brought you here. The name is Ardyn, by the way.”

“That is none of your concern”, the tall man snapped, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Oh, I’m sure it is”, Ardyn nodded. “Or are you trying to tell me it is not when you could just have walked away instead of hearing me out?”

He was met with silence but the stranger didn’t leave.

“I do take this as a yes?”Ardyn hopped off the little wall again and rounded it in order to have a closer look at the man’s face. Mask.

“Well, if you’re not willing to talk, could you maybe reveal your face? To ‘face me’, if you will?”If fingerguns had been a thing for Ardyn, this would have been the perfect moment but he was not very fond of them. A tad too ridiculous. But he had to crack open this fellow, or else he would not be able to help with whatever was plaguing him. And he was a particularly hard one. The girl earlier had been easier to please.

Another moment of silence passed as Ardyn was watching the man, defiant eyes searching for their counterparts behind the dark slits.

“The village will not like it.”

Ardyn shrugged.”Very considerate, thank you. But I am a traveler. A rather impatient one and I will not dwell in this place for much longer than this night.”

Another metallic sigh.

“Now, come on. No need for restraint?”

The man let his hands drop into his lap. Armoured hands, as Ardyn noticed, probably clad in the same metal that was also hiding his face.

“I don’t understand you”, the masked man shook his head.

“Oh, did I not make myself clear enough? Very well then.”Ardyn opened his arms in invitation.“Ask away.”

“The people told you to stay away from me. Why are you helping me?”

Ardyn tilted his head.“Because helping people is my calling. And I daresay I’m pretty good at it. If you let me, that is.”

Silence again.

Just as Ardyn was about to say something, anything really to get their awkward conversation somewhere, the masked man spoke up again. This time, his tone was softer, stripped from hostility.

“The villagers were talking about you. They told you could heal.”

“The plague, you mean?”

The white haired man nodded.

Ardyn frowned.“But, do you need that sort of healing? You certainly look far livelier than any of the victims I ever treated. And I don’t sense it in you.”

“Sense it?”

“Oh yes. I can sense where the sickness lies”, Ardyn explained. “It’s like a constant force, pulling me into the direction I have to go. A call, if you like. But I don’t sense this pull from you.”

“Oh…”The tall man lowered his head.“So maybe they have been right then. Maybe it’s not the sickness and I am just a cursed being after all.”

“Cursed?”Now that was something new. Ardyn had never talked to a cursed person before. How could he help this miserable fellow?

“You’re leaving tomorrow you say, so I can as well show you. It makes no difference.”

To Ardyn’s surprise, the man brought up his hand to his face and (he couldn’t believe it) lifted his iron face guard. The moment the mask came down, Ardyn felt a pull so strong that it almost swept him off his feet. He crouched for a moment, trying to regain his balance but the pull was steady and grew stronger by minute.

“Hey, are you alright?”

Ardyn looked up into a piercing pair of pale eyes in the purplish colour of evening clouds, framed by worried brows. It would have been a beautiful sight, if not for the black, thick liquid that was taking up half of the eye’s white and wallowing down his tanned cheeks, mixing with whatever it was that oozed out of the corner of his mouth. And that aching pull that felt like it could tear his whole body apart.

“I wronged you, my friend”, Ardyn barely breathed, eyes opened wide in shock. He had never seen a case that bad. “How are you still able to stand?”

The man helped him up, supporting him with one arm.“The training helps. At least I am not as weak as some of the villagers are. Or have been, I should say now. Although sometimes I feel like I’m not myself. Like I’m losing my mind.”He ran one hand over the mask.“I barely remember those moments though. I only notice when I wake up, when I come back. The villagers fear me. I tried to protect them from the me I do not know by wearing an armour and covering my skin, sealing away what might be dangerous to them. But nothing would ever be the same again. I’m an outcast and this is my curse.”

Ardyn’s hands were shaking as he brought them up to cup the face of the stranger, still trying to keep the pulling sensation in check.“You have no idea”, he whispered aghast.

“Stay away, you will corrupt!”, the unmasked panicked as he realized that the black vile substance was staining Ardyn’s hands.

But no human strength could have won against the power of the Healer’s connection to the Scourge. The man managed to force down Ardyn’s hands from his face but in the next moment the Healer gave in to the crushing gravity of the calling.

Ardyn leaped for the stranger’s body, wrapping both of his arms around him and pressing his forehead against his shoulders. He could feel the plague burning through the other’s veins.

“Poor soul”, Ardyn whispered, overwhelmed and with tears in his eyes.“You shall know relief.”

Ardyn drew a shaky breath, focused on the imaginary strings (there were just so many of them) and started pulling.

When the first rays of sunlight crept up from behind the dunes Ardyn woke. His whole body felt sore and he could have slept for a whole century if it wasn’t for the heat. Why was he lying in bed fully clad anyways? No. First of all, how did he get here?

The Healer sat up, every muscle screaming in protest and scanned the room. It was the place he had been offered to stay at, so this at least was right. Ardyn absently ran a lazy hand through his purplish-red locks.Ah. Right. The masked one.

The hand slid down and over his face, grazing the faint stubble that had appeared on his chin over night.He must have collapsed from exhaustion, there was no other explanation. Well, at least he hadn’t been murdered on the street. That would have been a lamentable end.

Ardyn recalled the man’s face, strained and tormented by the Scourge but still… Those eyes, bright and ready to fight, ready to live. He was a good man, Ardyn was sure of it. And impressed, not to say the least. He couldn’t remember if he had been able to cure him, but he hoped so. Not knowing somehow filled him with melancholy.

That feeling of melancholy was immediately forgotten as Ardyn saw the familiar patchwork rug ensemble feeding his Chocobo.

“Oh good morning to you”, Ardyn approached him. He was still unmasked as he noticed, exhaustion visible on his face but the aftermath of what had been cursing through his body erased.“Maybe it is the morning light, but you do have a quite healthy complexion today”, he continued as he petted the head of his feathered companion.

“You seem fine”, the man stated.

Ardyn had a look at himself.“Yes. Yes, you could say that.”The aching parts covering basically his whole body aside, he really was.

“Good.”

There it was again, the delightful awkward silence. The other probably wasn’t the talking kind of person.

“Say, Ardyn, was it?”

The smaller one turned his head towards the unmasked. His face was indeed a pretty fair one. The dusk hadn’t betrayed his eyes. Nor had the Scourge.“Hm?”

“Is that… healing practise of yours a… common one? Not that I would question your methods, but…”

If Ardyn didn’t know it better, he would have thought that the other man was being flustered. Which couldn’t possibly be the case. Such as he himself wasn’t when he thought back about what might have been called either daring or labeled as sexual harrassment. If it hadn’t been for the greater good that was. Which it had been.Ardyn could have blamed it on the sickness. It wouldn’t even have been a lie. But for some reason he didn’t feel like it.

“Oh, you see, special cases deserve special treatment”, Ardyn returned instead, a genuine smile on his face.“And you reminded me of myself, in a way. Less exceptional, of course”, he added quickly. Who was he to pour out his lonely heart to a complete stranger?

“Well then, I must bid you farewell now”, Ardyn swept into a deep bow. “It turned out to be a pleasure to have met you.”

“Gilgamesh.”

“Beg you pardon?”

“You asked for my name.”

Ardyn found himself baffled.“Now this is quite a lovely name”, he stated as nonchalant as his surprise let him.“A little long for me to remember though, I fear. Would you mind shortening it down to… Gil? Gil does sound like somebody that could be friend of mine?”

“Gilgamesh”, the white haired man grumbled and shoved something onto Ardyn’s face that made his vision go black.

When Ardyn pulled it down again he saw what it was. A hat in classic black and a rather fancy cut which was casting a nice shadow onto his face.

“It gets hot in the desert”, Gilgamesh stated. “ The sun is strong. You should be careful of heat strokes.”

“Aah, now that is something I was still missing. Thank you kindly, Gil. Greeting will be much easier from now on too.”Ardyn hadn’t expected Gilgamesh to be that thoughtful.“Well then, it is time for to leave this village behind.”

“Where are we going?”

“We?”Ardyn stopped mounting his Chocobo half-way. It was only then when he noticed the knee high bag at Gilgamesh’s feet, poorly strapped together with all kinds of ropes and belts.“Why are we suddenly traveling together?”

Gilgamesh heaved his bag over his shoulder, his expression as rigid as the mask he had been wearing.“You saved my life, so I happen to owe you something after all. If I am of use.”

Ardyn pondered for a moment until his eyes finally lit up.“Gil, can you start fires?”

Gilgamesh frowned.“I hope you asking that question does not mean what I think it means.”

“But can you?”

“Yes?”Gilgamesh’s eyeroll was as perfect as Ardyn had imagined it.

The Healer flung his leg over the Chocobo and gave him a nudge to start trotting.“I congratulate you for choosing the best company there is on all Eos”, he fluted, accompanied by a generous gesture.“We will be heading south from now on. I hope you don’t mind walking, there is only one Chocobo after all.”

Ardyn could hear Gilgamesh muttering incomprehensible complains while he was trying to catch up behind him.A content smile adorned his face. The nights would be warm from now on.