#flirting clumsily with radiation burns

[martyrbat]

autistic! bruce wayne & silver st. cloud — detective comics #470

[ID: Bruce Wayne talking to a beautiful woman that's attending his yacht party. He's wearing a black suit with wide-notched lapels and a pink button up shirt underneath it with a matching cravat. She's wearing a coral green dress that clings to her figure, pearl earrings, and has shoulder length silver hair. She greets him, "Ah! The mysterious Mr. Wayne! I don't believe we've met! I'm Silver St. Cloud!" Bruce smirks slightly, obviously enthralled by her as he chimes back, "I'll bet you are!" He smoothly asks, "Have you lost someone?" as she gazes out at the bustling room. She tells him, "My date? Davy's down hustling pool with the mayor's speechwriter! You have most of Gotham's government on board! I hope you're not an enemy spy – or running for office!"

Bruce laughs at the joke as he leans over the yacht's railing. He looks out at the water as he tells her, "I'm afraid not! But Gotham's been good to me! I just wanted to say thanks, in my own way!" Silver, who probably knows of Bruce's orphaned past and is actually familiar with Gotham, looks at him intrigued as Bruce straightens back into standing. She tells him, "You're a strange man – not like what I'd imagined!" Bruce winks and does a little finger gun in her direction as he says, "I wish I could fascinate you further, then, but I have to make the rounds! Maybe I'll see you later, if Davy's still busy!" She giggles, "I'd like that!"

Bruce slips away through the crowd and quickly changes into his Batman costume and snorkeling gear! He thinks to himself, "I'm sorry to leave you, Silver! Bruce Wayne was really interested!" But alas! He has the evening planned to the last detail in order to stop a villain commit nuclear fallout within a hour. He succeeds, receiving only minor radiation burns in the process, and returns to the party just in time for him to be present while dinner is being served!

Silver notices his presence and strolls up to him to greet him again, saying she's been looking for him. Bruce excuses, "I'm not that hard to find, Silver! Your luck must be bad!" Before he reassures her, "Actually, I've been looking for you, too!" Miraculously, she's charmed by him and wraps her arms around his neck. Her hands go to his hair and he places one of his hands on her upper back as the other stays in his pant's pocket. She purrs, "So we're just ships that pass in the night–?" Bruce enthusiastically tells her, "Lady, I could make a pass at you any night!" Before he pulls away and starts walking. He tells her without looking, "Come on! Let's get some food and talk it over!" Silver looks at her hand perplexed, pondering to herself that it's odd that his hair is damp and how she wonders why... END ID]

[gintokisimp]

Daydreaming about Silver isn’t good for your Health. Chapter 2: A silent night

Chapter 2. Tsukuyo helps Gintoki to get home after a long evening. 

Genre: Smut, Fluff, Light Angst, PWP

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 4,739

Both of them avoided eye contact, nervously aiming their eyes around the room. For Tsukuyo, it felt like the world was ending. It was so embarrassing for her to just sit here, left alone with the only man she couldn't stand being alone with. Well.. they weren't alone, but it sure felt like everyone disappeared into thin air. The only sound she could hear was her own heartbeat, the faint roaring of her blood in her ears and Gintoki's breathing.

He was still too close to her and she could feel his body heat touching her skin. Technically, that was impossible. No one was able to radiate enough heat to be felt half a meter apart. Was it really coming from his body? He definitely emitted something , she just couldn't get her finger on it. It contacted her in waves and when it brushed over her, she could feel the small hairs on her arm react to it, making it stand up in excitement. 

What was that weird sensation running through her body? She didn't drink anything today, did she? No, no.. that wasn't it.

This whole situation made her so uncomfortable, her ears were burning out of pure embarrassment and at the same time her body and mind reacted to his presence with weird visions everytime she closed her eyes for a short time. Thinking about those visions only made it worse. 

She felt her stomach twisting and a sour taste crawled into her mouth. Please, not here, not now!

"Excuse me, I.."

she puked. Just a little bit, but she puked. Right in front of him.

"Tsukuyo! .. what?"

Gintoki reacted fast and reached out his arms to catch her. When he made contact with her shoulders, she immediately jerked back, sharply breathing in. That was a mistake. He was a lot closer now and the air she sucked in was mixed with his scent. 

Gintoki's scent was a mix of cotton candy, strawberries and something that made her head spin again. She never smelled anything like this before.

Panting, struggling for air, she placed her hands on her knees, averting her eyes down to her feet. 

"What did you do Gin-chan?!"

Kagura let go of the still grinning Sougo and jumped into a standing position.

"Yea danna, what did you do, should I arrest you?" Sougo straightened his shirt and stood up as well. 

"Ah Sougo, loving a woman is not a crime." Kondo laughed wholeheartedly. 

"Stalking a woman sure is!" Otae threw in, an evil smiley decorating her face. Kondo looked at her, unimpressed. 

“Yes it is.” He simply replied. Kondo had moved on, but sometimes it still seems as if she didn’t get the message. Or she simply just didn’t believe him. 

"That's correct." Hijikata mumbled."I bet it's all his fault."

"Oi I'm not the problem here!" Gintoki snarled.

"Gintoki, you're a fine man, don't let these frustrated people tell you otherwise!" encouraged Katsura from the other side of the room. 

"Shut up, no one asked you." Came from Otae at his table.

Hasegawa looked at Tsukuyo with a warm smile "Are you pregnant lady? I can understand. Hatsu and I-"

"- they didn't even kiss yet." Kagura interrupted and pouted.

"Who's pregnant?"

"Who kissed?"

"As I said, they didn't!"

"I sure hope you didn't drink anything! That's not good for the child."

"No ones pregnant, she's just not feeling well. What the hell is wrong with men?! That's not the only reason for puking!"

"I..I need to go." 

Tsukuyo excused herself to go to the bathroom. His eyes were following her, watching her stumbling into the bathroom. Now, without his heavy scent in the air, she could finally breathe again. She leaned against the and slowly slid down, touching the cold floor. With her head in her neck, she took a few deep breaths. The change of atmosphere started to clear her head. 

I'm getting sick, it's all in my mind. That's why I'm reacting so extreme to these situations. Maybe I'm already fever dreaming.

She stayed in there a little while, hoping he would just forget what had happened and that she was here. If she waited just a little longer he might be drunk enough to just sleep in on the spot. She could get out without him noticing. 

A knock on the door pulled her back to reality. Someone entered the small room.

"Tsukuyo, are you okay? We are worried about you." Otae asked carefully.

"Yea, yea ‘s fine. Gettin’ sick. I guess..I already have a fever." 

"Oh yes, I can already tell you have a fever by looking at your face." She smiled at her and added a small giggle. 

"What’re ya sayin?" Tsukuyo frowned. 

"I said what I said, no hidden meaning behind it."

Otae winked.

"Come out and sit at our table. It's quite fun to talk to Zura when he's drunk."

"Okay.. I'm coming, just gimme a minute" 

Otae left the bathroom and she was alone again.

Tsukuyo’s break time in the bath was really all she needed right now. A few minutes passed until finally, everything that submerged her reasonable thinking had vanished and she felt like she could face him normally again. Normal? Nothing was normal about that. She might be able to manage if she really really needed to. But she wasn’t sure. 

Tsukuyo stood up slowly, straightened her clothes and checked her face in the mirror. Considering her situation, she looked quite okay. Her hand reached up to her scar and she scratched it absently. 

You have a beautiful face with a clean soul. 

She remembered it like it was yesterday. 

Later that evening, he was suddenly leaning on the table right next to her.

"Take me home Tsukkiii!" He shouted over the loud noises in the bar. She could tell he drank more than he planned to, his dull eyes tried to focus on her face. He wouldn't be asking her to do that if he was just a little tipsy.

"Ya live upstairs, sure ya can find your way alone." She avoided looking at him.

"No no you should guide me to my door ~ isn't that the thing that friends do? We're friendsss so ya shoulddd help me"

"Friends?" Tsukuyo sounded strangely hurt.

"Yes yes Tsukki will help you get home." Kagura came to his aid and leaned on his shoulder. She set them up expertadly, not even hiding it. 

"Kagura, you should also go home come with us ~"

"No, I need to talk to Shinpachi about something. You two should get some alone time."

"HUH for what Kaguraaa. We're friends. Friends go eat together, drink together and play games together!” 

Gintoki held up one finger for each point but stopped suddenly and stared at his third finger. 

“Waaait, we didn’t play games together. What can we play,..I have an idea, but is there something ya wanna play, Tsukki?” He turned his face in her direction and the odor of alcohol hit her. 

Her eyes fixed on the table, she felt her cheeks flushing and cleared her throat. 

“No, I don’t wanna play ya stupid games.”

“C’mon you didn’t even hear my suggestion! What if.. what if we play a game of jankenpon? That’s a great game!”

“Sounds great.” Tsukuyo replied, trying to sound uninterested. 

“..and whoever looses needs to get rid of a piece of clothing!” He continued with a triumphant laugh which caused Tsukuyo to lower her head even further.

Kagura dug her arm in his shoulder and Gintoki winced. 

“Gin-chan, you two can play that alone upstairs, how about that?” 

“Nooo, why? No need to do that alone we’re just two friendsss who wanna play a game, we can do that hereee." Gintoki put his hand on Kagura's face to push her away from him. 

“Go away, I want Tsukki there.” He mumbled under his breath. 

Tsukuyo heard that and she jerked her head up. She locked eyes with Kagura. The girl smiled innocently at her and she quickly turned away again.

He’s totally wasted, totally drunk, he would never say anything like that if he was sober. What does that even mean? Nothing, it means nothing.  

“You’re awfully honest when you’re drunk, Gin-chan” Kagura whispered and laughed in her fist. 

“Whaddaya sayin’, what did I say? I said nothin’, I said nothing! Shut up!” Gintoki blurted back at Kagura, supporting his statements with wild gestures. With his last word, he accidentally hit Tsukuyo in her face and she screeched in shock, turning around. 

“Ah honey, I’m so sorry, sssorry, did I hurt ya?” Gintoki reached down to her and patted her face rather clumsily.

His fingers brushing her face dissolved any composure she had gained in the last few minutes. Everywhere he touched, she felt a fire burning under her skin. 

“I don’t want t’ hurt ya” He whispered only loud enough for her to hear and he left his hand resting on her scar, with a smile that might have been friendly if he wasn’t intoxicated. 

Tsukuyo’s muscles just screamed for her to get up and run away again. Run away from this sly bastard playing with everyone’s feelings. Pretty normal behaviour, he’s drunk. He’s doing that to everyone, he cares about everyone the same. 

"Do you need help, Tsukki? Should we go together?" Otae asked, a little concerned, eyeing Gintoki with a slight disgust on her face. 

"n..no I'm fine." She stuttered back. 

"Good! Let's go then?!" Gintoki mumbled, withdrawing his hand as if he wasn’t just heavily flirting a mere second ago. Typical playboy . Standing up straight he didn't even wait for an answer and fell through the open door as soon as he made his way to the exit. A loud thud was coming from outside. 

He didn’t lie when he said he needed help to get home. 

“You sure you wanna do this? I’m sure Kagura could handle that if you don’t want to go.” Otae changed her approach, now trying to pull Tsukuyo out of the situation. 

“No. I’m helping him.” She stood up a little too fast and the glasses on the table rattled. Tsukuyo rushed outside giving herself no time to reconsider her decision. She couldn’t have anyone thinking that she was a scaredy cat just because she was the only one weak to his meaningless flirting. 

The night cloudless, the full moon shed its light on the empty street. It was a pretty peaceful scenery.. if it weren’t for a drunk samurai laying face down in the middle of the dusty road. Strange sounds echoed through the night as if he was singing, but never hit a note. 

Tsukuyo sighed. It was a pathetic sight and she began to feel bad for him. Now she only needed to find a way to get him up the stairs while at the same time staying as far away from him as possible. 

If she got too close to him, she might end up just like, face on the street, making funny sounds. Sounds of pleasure. ... oh. 

Tsukuyo shook her head to shush away her thoughts and slowly made her way over to him, gracefully walking through the moonlight. 

As the clicks of her heels got closer to him, she recognized that he was actually singing her name, if you could even call that singing. 

She grabbed his collar, the singing turned into indistinctive groans and dragged him to the stairs. He didn't even complain about being dragged through the dust and instead he started talking about his wonderful friend Tsukuyo who was always there for him and is there for him now, to help him in his hardest times. 

That was not true. She was never there for him. In fact, she tried to avoid him as much as possible, not calling for his help when she needed it, scared of him thinking she would just exploit him. He saved her. He was there for her.

And she was alone with him.

Shocked, she let go of his Yukata. Gintoki's head fell straight on the stairs and he cried out in pain. You idiot. Why did she say yes to bring him home? Idiot. Idiot.

Lost in her own spiral of thoughts and memories, she almost forgot he was there until he grabbed her leg and tugged harshly on her Kimono.

"Tsukkiiii why do you hurt me. Do you hate me?" 

Thrown out of context, she forgot her self-inflicted rule and looked down in his face. His dead, watery eyes reflected the bright shining moon.

Suddenly, they changed into the exact same shade of burning crimson from earlier that evening.

"Am I dreaming or was the moon always so close to me and indescribably beautiful.." 

Tsukuyo slightly turned her head to see the moon above her, but when she looked back, he was looking directly at her and she could see her own reflection in his eyes rather than the moons. 

Gintoki’s limited ability to think only revolved around the things that happened in front of him. And right now, it was only one thing:

The moon. 

And the stellar full moon behind her. 

She looked like an angel to him, her curvaceous body which he blameworthy eyed from time to time dressed in the dark blue kimono. His fingers itched, still holding onto the soft fabric. He could just reach out and touch her, feel her warm skin. Illuminated by the faint light, Tsukuyo was outlined with the moonlight's halo. 

His thoughts trailed off. How could he preserve that sight? How could he look at that forever? The alcohol really had messed up his brain, snatching all control over his emotions. 

However.., ..she was endlessly beautiful. 

But angels need wings to fly. He would make her fly high without them.

"What?" Tsukuyo whispered back. 

Shit, did I say that out loud? Gintoki’s eyes widened. 

"Uh, f- forget it." He stammered and turned around to crawl up the stairs.

Frozen in place by his words, she could only watch him working his way up to his porch. Gintoki always says inappropriate things, but never like this. Is he playing with her? As far as she knew, he tried that with every woman he met. Plus he was drunk. He probably already forgot she was the one helping him.

"Tsukuyoooooo..!" 

Well, .. obviously he didn't forget who was accompanying him on his very long way home.

"Tsukuyooo, I can't find the key hole, come and help meee!"

You can do this. You can do this. You can do this without creating any weird situations. Just help him open the door, kick him inside and leave. 

Tsukuyo was glad she was outside. The fresh night breeze helped her to calm down. She could actually breathe freely, not constricted by the walls of the bar where she wasn’t able to flee in the worst case scenario. 

Now, packed with a little more confidence, she climbed up the rest of the stairs in front of her and joined him on the porch.

Gintoki's forehead connected with the frame of the shoji door, whereas he tried to stab it repeatedly with his rattling key. 

„Go in already! Ugh can’t find the damn hole.“ He mumbled to himself in between his aimless blows. 

If she wasn’t that pent-up, she might have laughed. He looked incredibly stupid while doing that. Just as he always does. 

However, she had no reason to laugh as the wind suddenly caught up, ruffling his hair in all directions, causing it to shine silver in the faint moonlight. 

For a split second, it took away her breath. Tsukuyo stopped a few meters away from him and leaned on the railing. The kiseru in her kimono felt heavy, usually taken out by now to cover up her utter nervousness.

But this time, she resisted. 

Gintoki‘s hand stopped to slash the key across the door and his head turned, his eyes loosely focusing hers. Deep red shining through the silver glittering waves. 

Her heart stumbled, only to launch into overdrive again when he started to speak with a calm voice. 

"Don't ya just stand there and watch me like a creep, come here and help me."

"Sure ya can find the hole if ya try a little longer. A grown ass man like you shouldn't need help finding the hole." She snorted in response. 

"Tsukuyo I didn't know you were into dirty talk." He smirked mischievously and Tsukuyo averted her eyes, flushing. 

“I‘m not.”

“Uhuh, ..Why don’tcha take matters in your own hand and find it for me then?“

Tsukuyo felt heat rising to her ears. Another of those comments and she would either kill him on the spot, or simply faint. A small indecent comment from him was enough to throw her off the tracks again. 

She smoothed out the folds on her clothes in an futile attempt to hide her sweating hands and approached the door, stopping at an arm's length. 

"Give me the key." She held out her hand, but he just looked at her face, still grinning. 

"Come and take it."

She withstood her urge to scream. 

"I don't want to play ya stupid little games, just give it t’ me I wanna go home."

"Tsukki..” His expression changed all of a sudden. “It's already late, you shouldn't go home alone, who knows what could happen to you." 

"What does that mean? That I can't watch out for myself?" Tsukuyo huffed. 

"No" He simply replied. 

"Okay."

“You’re the strongest woman I know.”

“..okay?” 

"I'm just worried, that's all." 

Gintoki turned his head away and handed her the keys. For a second, she just stared at him. He was worried about her? Since when? Her job was by far more dangerous than walking home late at night and he never mentioned he was worried about her doing this job. Shaking her head, she put in the key with one smooth move.

"Wow, you're so good at finding the entrance for my key. Are you always like this?" His head was still facing away from her, but she could see him grinning again. 

The heat from her Tsukuyos ears spread rapidly to her face. Dirty jokes are his favorite. This is the Gintoki she knew, not the one giving any sort of compliments or the one talking about his feelings.

She pulled the door open with a loud swoosh, took a swing and kicked him inside. Landing with his face first on the edge of the little step, he cried in pain. 

"Why are you so mean to me?" Tears were streaming down his face. 

"I guess beauty does really hurt." He added silently.. 

"Shut up. Good Night and have a fun morning after." Tsukuyo turned on her heels and was already on her way downstairs when she heard his voice again. 

"Oh no I've fallen and I can't get up!" Gintoki's dramatic voice echoed through the night. 

She hesitated with her foot hovering above the steps. 

"I said, I've fallen and I can't get up." The voice said a little louder.

With a long sigh, she turned around and stopped in the doorway of the Yorozuya apartment. Gintoki was still crouched on the floor, whimpering in a dramatic pose, his hands on his forehead and his eyes shut tight. 

"I can't move and no one is here to save me. Guess I'll just sleep here then. I sure hope the werewolves won't eat me tonight."

"The ghosts will." 

Tsukuyo cackled. She knew what he really was afraid of. 

"Oh shit were?!" 

He jerked up into a sitting position and his wide open eyes were searching the room, only stopping at the sight of her.  

"Oh it's just you. I thought you were already on your way home. Why did you come back? To find ghosts? No ghosts here."

His voice was shaking. 

"Ghosts are not real."

"Sure."

"So Tsukki, while you're here you can also help me. You see, I'm an old man and I don't make it to bed in time, I'll sleep in right in front of the door."

Tsukuyo put her fists on her hip and eyed him suspiciously. She really didn’t want to come in and help him even further. He was at home, her job was done. 

"’n what should I do? Bring ya futon here?"

"I'm drunk and if you won't at least guide me through the house, I'll destroy everything on the way to my room." 

As if to make a point, he banged his fists on the floor. Tsukuyo wasn’t having it. 

"Ya seem pretty sober to me, go to bed already, ya don’t need my help." It was true, Gintoki looked like he was having an evening free of alcohol, he just looked tired. 

Incredibly tired. 

She wasn’t able to grasp it, but something about him seemed off. As soon as she had denied her help, his facade had dropped ever so slightly, revealing a sadness she had never seen on him. But what made him act like that ?

“I do. I really do.” 

Gintoki's voice was silent, almost too silent for her to hear. 

His mask had only crumbled for a brief moment and Gintoki’s face was as bored as ever. 

"Fine, I'll help you"

With some newly found courage, Tsukuyo entered the apartment. She felt like she was crossing a line, the atmosphere in here felt so much different. Sad. Incomplete. 

She grabbed Gintoki's collar and lifted him up on his feet. Of course he was standing without any problems.

"Yatta! Your magic hands helped me! Look at me, I can stand!" 

Not leaving him any time for celebration, she pulled on his shirt and dragged him through the apartment to his room. Gintoki protested at first, but ultimately followed her lead.

Scanning his dark room, she saw his futon already laying on the floor. He probably just didn't bother putting it away last morning. Tsukuyo could bet all her money on an explanation similar to „Why should I stow it away when I will use it later again anyways?“

She stopped at the door, pulled him past her and threw him inside. 

Gintoki, continuing without her support, stumbled across the room. While he tried to coordinate his steps, he fingered at his sash and the belt. Not long after, the belt buckle crashed to the ground with a loud clang. 

As soon as Tsukuyo realized that he was finally getting ready to sleep, she turned around to leave the apartment. If his half covered arm was enough to make her daydream in a full bar, she didn't want to find out what other parts could do.

"Oi Tsukki wanna help.. me here as well?"

Tsukuyo peeked over her shoulder. His back was turned to her and he already managed to get rid of his Yukata and threw it heedlessly on the floor. Now, without this baggy piece of clothing, his broad shoulders were standing out and his black shirt and nicely fitting pants were hugging his masculine body. She rarely saw him without his sloppily worn Yukata.

"I'll leave now." She whispered, averting her eyes. 

"No. No.. stay.. we could, we could.." Gintoki mumbled back, but he wasn’t able to finish the sentence, as he slumped over and fell on his futon, one arm stretched out above his head and the other arm clinging to the parted zipper of his black undershirt. 

Laying on his back like this, he immediately started snoring. The soft sounds were filling the room and rang in her head. Not knowing what to do now, she just stood in the door and looked over to him. A peaceful smile was plastered on his face. He won't be smiling anymore when he wakes up tomorrow morning. 

Why did he even drink that much? But she didn't know if he really needed a reason to drink. Once you get used to it, you don’t need a reason anymore. 

In this state he couldn't even cover himself with the sheets, so without thinking, Tsukuyo crossed the room and kneeled down next to him. 

His body was radiating that strange sensation again and it just attracted her to come closer, slowly intoxicating her. She reached over to grab his sheets and accidentally brushed his arm in the process. Tsukuyo jolted back and just sat there, shocked in silence. Her hands clutched the fabric on her knees. 

The sudden friction on his arm made it fall down. However, his fingers were still holding onto his open shirt and he exposed himself in the process.Half of his upper body was in her full view and lit by the moon shining through the window. The faint light drew highlights and shadows on his well toned abdominal muscles. Once her eyes caught that, she couldn’t turn away, absolutely drawn into the sight. 

How could someone who's daily intake almost only consists of sugar be that muscular? They were perfectly formed and her fingertips felt hungry to touch them, fidgeting around on her knees. 

Gintoki's muscles twitched slightly and she caught her mouth falling open.

Shit shit shit, I should leave.

But her body wasn’t listening at all, she just continued to stare at him.

The last and only time she saw him like this was at the pool where he was playing a lousy lifeguard. She remembered that she caught herself peeking at him a few times, but she didn't want anyone to notice it, so she focused on giving Seita a nice day, mostly staying away from him. Was it the first time where he called her a drunk terminator? She couldn’t remember. But certainly, there was a nice tone to it if he had been so scared of her. 

From the start of the evening, she should have just stayed away from him. Being around him was never a good idea anyways. 

Go, go now before it’s too late!

Tsukuyo’s gaze wandered from the deep creases along the lines pointing to his lower region. Her eyes stayed there for a moment before she moved upwards to his one bare pec. It looked so smooth and hard at the same time. It moved with every one of his shallow breaths. She wondered if it was comfortable to rest on. 

No..

What was she thinking again..

Her eyes continued wandering to his face. He really was quite handsome and she didn't think he was aware of that. Red eyes looked back at her. Red Eyes?

Realization kicked in.

He watched her. He watched her.

He blinked.

She blinked.

He blinked again.

Her head felt like it would explode any second.

After his next blink she was gone. Faster than the speed of light.

Gintoki's eyes flung open, looking up to the ceiling of his bedroom. He couldn’t exactly remember how he ended up here, at least not right now. Maybe tomorrow.  

What was that electric sensation?

It woke him up, raging through his limbs. Gintoki's skin prickled and it felt so good but it was over faster than he wished. Silent breathing that was not his own caught his attention and his eyes focused on a person sitting next to him. 

It was Tsukuyo. Her body looked very strained and she just started somewhere. She appeared to him like a deer hit by the headlights of a truck with no comprehensible reason in sight. Dizzy from the alcohol and slowly following her line of sight, he noticed that he flashed half of his upper body to her. 

No, She wouldn't be looking there. But what if..

Just to make sure, he flexed his stomach, just a tiny bit and studie her face. Her mouth fell open.

Yea, she was definitely looking.

Tsukuyo’s eyes moved a little lower but Gintoki was too tired to realize where exactly she was looking at. He just kept looking at her face, wondering why she was here and why the hell she was so excited to stalk him while he was knocked out sleeping.

Gintoki already forgot most of the events of last evening. Right now every memory he had resolved around her. Her presence, her voice and her soft skin...

- bright purple eyes stared blatantly into his own eyes. Nothing happened for a heartbeat. With faint moonlight shining on her face, he could see her turning bright pink. 

Was he dreaming? A mere moment later she was gone without a trace.

He was alone.

[milkygcf]

UNDER THE MISTLETOE

Pairing | knj x gender-neutral reader

Genre | tooth-rotting fluff i think, established relationship

Warnings | just a tiny bit of cursing, the boys are a chaotic mess

Summary | ��� Nothing can beat a holiday spent with Namjoon.❞

Word Count | 4.1k

Author’s Note | THIS IS AN ABSOLUTE MESS I’M SORRY 😭🙏 i rush wrote this so i could put up something for christmas. nonetheless, i hope whoever reads this enjoys it! also, big thanks to @youarejesting​ for the banner! i love it, it’s so cute :( another little side note is, this is also part of @btscreatorscorner​‘s Crystal Snow Event! make sure to take a look at all the other works :] happy holidays!

Christmas with Namjoon is always a wild ride. From hectic decoration shopping to disastrous baking, to actual decorating and singing Christmas songs together. However, it's not like you're complaining, because as rowdy as Christmas time can be with your significant other, nothing can beat a holiday spent with Namjoon.

Every year is an open door to new shenanigans, handmade gifts and memories that embed themselves warmly into your heart. This year isn't any different, except for the fact that the rest of the group were joining for dinner - along with the chaos they always brought along with them. As close as you are with your boyfriend, not even your connection could beat theirs. It's heart-warming - as much as they argue, nothing could possibly tear them apart. Nothing could bring you any more serotonin than the jovial smile that attacks Namjoon's handsome features whenever they're around.

Now, you’re all nearing your thirties - except for Jungkook, he was still bearing life without early back problems - and you suppose you all look the part as well. Unless it's Christmas season and the young man himself proposes they all compete in a Best Decorated House competition between themselves. The winner earns himself an extra present from every participant - which you find rather amusing because you're pretty sure they were willing to buy each other the world in a blink of an eye. The loser, however, gets to wash every dish used during dinner. Ouch.

"Deal!" Namjoon hollers, finger pointed up in agreement, his chest puffed out in pride. You know he's going to stress about it later on because as much as you love the man, he's absolute shit when it comes to decorating. If it weren't for you, his house would be a shit-show. Sorry, Namjoon.

"Can't wait to beat all of your sorry asses!" Seokjin yells even louder, an arm hooked around Yoongi's waist. The energy he radiates astonishes you because even if he's the eldest from the lot, he's always the energetic one. Seokjin might as well be your icon.

And that's how it all began - the calm before the storm. But then again, them proposing this very idea wasn't exactly calm.

You feel a shy tap on your shoulder while you're busy scanning through your fifth isle. Namjoon holds out a tiny Christmas tree to you, his eyes round and shiny. You already know you won't be able to refuse. "Can we get it? Please - my bonsai needs a new friend."

"I think your bonsai would be sad to know their friend is made out of plastic, Joon."

"Well, they wouldn't be sad if they didn't know, right?"

His grin is brimming with mirth. He knows what you're going to say - there was no need to even ask you in the first place because he knew you could never resist his puppy eyes. "Fine," you sigh softly, offering him your sweetest smile. "Make sure Mon doesn't swallow it whole. That dog is a menace."

"He has a restless soul. We'll buy him reindeer ears on our way home."

"Yes!" It elicits giggles from both of you - Namjoon had introduced you to Rapmon just two months into the relationship, claiming you must meet your competition because it's only fair. Frankly, you think the dog himself is competing with your boyfriend - the second you set sight on his silky fur you’ve vowed to never leave his side. Rapmon was an absolute gem. From then on, he was a big part of the events you celebrated together - the main character in your little shenanigans.

Once you've both paid whatever you needed for the day, heaving a ton of shopping bags, you step out of the shop in a fit of giggles. As sophisticated and stern as Namjoon may look, he's quite possibly the clumsiest giant you've ever met. Unfortunately for him, he had accidentally ripped one of the bags you had brought along and as he readied to lift it, all contents came tumbling out as he gawked in terror. Red instantly rushed to his cheeks and you found it hard not to burst out laughing in his face. He wouldn't want to become more flustered than he already felt.

"Every day I wake up to the face of embarrassment," he mumbles ashamedly, shaking his head in dismay. You could only continue to chortle before leaning in to place a tender kiss on his cheek. "It's okay dummy," his cheeks redden even more, "Would some hot chocolate fix your mood?" The second the words slip out of your lips, his face no longer holds a grim expression.

Getting hot chocolate from Pixie’s Magic! is like a tradition between you and Namjoon. Not only was it where you both had met, but it served the most delicious brews you’ve ever tasted. Nothing could possibly beat this little shop in the corner of the mall you were currently in. 

Although it was usually calm and quiet, it seemed to be bustling the day you both go out to buy Christmas decorations. There’s a myriad of people piling up in plan of buying themselves the warmest cup of cocoa - a cup of happiness that would complete their own Christmas. Within that queue of people were families, couples and even people who spend their time alone during the festive season. Pixie’s hot cocoa never failed to brighten days.

You scout through your newly bought items for anything that might pass time. Namjoon stands beside you with his phone in hand, thumb clumsily scrolling through whatever he’d missed from the boys’ usual spam session. “Hoseok’s already got most of his decorations up. Something tells me we’re not winning this so easily.” 

“We’re literally up against Seokjin and Jungkook.” 

He pulls his lips in a taut line - going up against those two was a one way stop to instant loss. Nothing, absolutely nothing could beat either one of them. The competition was and will always be between Seokjin and Jungkook because both were as dense as a brick and would stop at nothing to earn themselves a victory. Frankly, you found it entertaining, even if they were constantly at each other’s throats and threatening to burn each other down - jokingly, of course, you’d never condone violence. Brotherly love if you’ve ever seen it. 

“They’re out of the question. We’re up against the rest, those two idiots can eat an egg.” His bluntness makes you burst into fits of giggles, earning the clear attention of those either ahead of you or waiting (im)patiently behind. Namjoon always had a rather poetic way of saying things. “An egg? You’d be doing them a favour.”

He doesn’t quite realise what you mean until a few seconds later when he breathes out a dejected sigh and massages his temple soothingly. “They’re a whole mess.” 

And he’s right, because when you’re back in the comfort of your humble abode with a warm cup of cocoa waiting for you in the living room, Namjoon’s phone keeps endlessly buzzing. 

“You can’t keep ignoring them forever, you know.”

Namjoon sometimes thinks about how difficult his life would be without you. Go figure that there was no way of avoiding them, right? If you hadn’t told him, he would’ve never guessed so.

The couch sinks underneath his weight as he plants himself beside you, placing a mushy kiss onto your cheek. He’s quick to hand you his beverage once Mon literally hops onto him, wagging his tail like the euphoric little rascal that he is. And there’s peace and quiet, the sound of the crackle of the fireplace, until Namjoon’s thumb slides over the tiny green button making his phone constantly vibrate.

“Namjoon! What took you so long?!”

Seokjin’s voice comes booming out of the device nestled in your boyfriend’s palm. You must admit - it startled you just a bit, but it’s not like you weren’t used to their rambunctious behaviour. “We thought you died. Almost worried us for a while there.”

“Actually,” Jimin so pridefully interrupts, “He was just about ready to forget about you. Don’t act like you didn’t see cloud nine when Tae suggested Joon backed out.” It was all fun and games, affectionate brotherly love between the lot until suddenly, it was a trademarked apocalypse. Truly mind-blowing. 

“You tattletale-!”

“Don’t worry Seokjin,” you snort, “He’s still up and running.” 

“You say that like it’s a bad thing!” Offence washes over Namjoon’s face - perhaps it really is him against the world. Kim Namjoon could trust no one. You could only poke your tongue out at him, earning yourself a blissful smile. “Not at all.”

“Ew. Stop flirting - this isn’t about you, this is about the progress you’re doing.” Seokjin scoffs, making the latter silently giggle to themselves. He has absolutely no filter - nothing could get in the way of the man’s priorities. “Tell that to Yoongi.” His boyfriend was sitting right beside him - and poor him, because Yoongi has to be the strongest man to ever set foot on earth. He’s been dealing with Seokjin’s shit for over a good year or so now. 

“Believe me, I might just knock him out.”

“No way - who’s going to peel your tangerines for work then? Ungrateful imp.” 

Their bickering continues to produce light laughter from the lot of you until you decide it's about time you update each other on your progress. Surprisingly enough, Hoseok was much farther ahead than you all anticipated, and it earned you another fifteen minutes worth of competitive yelling between the youngest and the eldest.

But that was nothing out of the ordinary.

"Move it a little bit to the left," you instructed stringently, hands planted firmly on your hips as your boyfriend does whatever he's told. The tree jiggles with every waking movement, making Namjoon groan at the heavyweight it settles upon him. "Is this alright?" He mumbles tiredly, eyeing you from the depths of its branches.

You could only nibble on your lip, your eyebrows furrowed in thought. "Maybe a bit to the right."

Even when he's exhausted, even when he's sick and tired of turning a piece of mere decoration to countless directions, he doesn't complain. Namjoon wasn't exactly fond of religious festivities, but spending Christmas with you is always something he looks forward to. Setting the deal aside, it was always enjoyable bringing a little life to the house with someone he adores and his heart beats for. "Perfect! Could you grab the baubles? I'll get the ornaments."

Teamwork makes the dream work. An idiom he liked to say on the daily - it always worked between the two of you. Six hours worth of work put into four and the mess that bested every nook and cranny of your house now lessened. You hang the last bauble and sigh in content. "Doesn't it look pretty? I think this is our best one yet."

"Well, technically speaking, I couldn't expect any less from you, bun." His tone of voice resembles that of a young boy in love, his eyes sparkling under the colourful Christmas lights nestled comfortably in the tree's branches as he looks at you with a bashful smile. It's moments like these when you're so caught up in the things you do together, these blissful moments that you realise just how grateful you are for Namjoon. You love him, you love him so much. Nothing could be a better present than spending time with him. He's your bundle of pure euphoria.

"The tree's feeling a little bland, don't you think?"

It takes you a moment to take notice of what he actually meant before you feel extra weight added on top of your head. He teasingly hangs the finishing piece away from you, puckering his lips in hopes he'd earn himself something sweet in return for the star. You could only roll your eyes, but nonetheless, nothing stops you from latching your lips onto his and giving him your love.

Without hesitation, Namjoon scoops you up onto his shoulders, he guides you towards the crest of the tree and watches with bright eyes as you ecstatically plant the finale to the first phase of your decorating. Monnie scratches at the latter's legs in pure joy, barking at you both to signal his presence as well. It elicits laughter, and as Namjoon gently sets you back down, you let your fingers ruffle his fur as he licks at your face.

However, your hours upon hours of decorating doesn't end there, the tinsel messily spread underneath you is a clear indication of this.

With an exhausted huff, you look at Namjoon with hopeful eyes. There's still much to be done.

---

Looks tend to be deceiving when it comes to Kim Namjoon. People tended to deem him as a friendly giant, however, when it came to snowball fights, he was far from that. Like a devil crawling out the pits of hell.

The day you decide to pamper the outdoors of your house, snow starts dribbling from the skies above you. A miracle, because it’s never really snowed so early in December. 

You’re busy setting up mistletoe in front of your front door until you’re barreling forward from the force of something wet on your back. It couldn’t have been Mon - he was sleeping soundlessly inside. But your boyfriend wasn’t - instead, he was childishly running around the front lawn bearing snowballs. 

“Namjoon!” You shriek in utter disbelief, turning around only to face a devious grin. Pure evil dripped from him - Namjoon was no longer the soft bear who insisted you play with his hair. He was now a foe. “You’re going to pay for that!” As quickly as you could, you bear your own weaponry to pay back his foolish actions. 

His giggles echoed across the small space you’re in and before you could even comprehend what was happening, he was already aiming another shot at you. Unfortunately, you were too slow against him. 

Splat!

Three points for Kim Namjoon!

At your absolute suffering, his laughter only gets louder over Mariah Carey’s gorgeous singing coming from inside. “You’ll pay for this, you evil man!” However, your threats are only drowned out by his boisterous laughter. “I’d like to see you try!” 

And you do. Because while he’s busy laughing his ass off at your misery, you earn yourself the rightful chance to aim a snowball right into his face. Three points? You just scored a whole seven. 

He’s baffled - completely, utterly speechless at what’s happened. Well, you definitely weren’t going to stand there and let him conquer victory, he knew that for a fact. He just didn’t think you’d be so blunt. Now you’ve earned him a pink nose. But was he going to let you get away with it? No, Namjoon’s a Virgo. 

He charges towards you like a clumsy child. You almost screech in surprise, instead, busting out in fits of laughter as you tumble and trip away from him. “Hey-! Get back here!” He cries out, almost face-planting into a hefty pile of snow. That would’ve been outright hilarious. 

“Just try and catch me, big man!”

It’s light-hearted, it’s all lively and pleasant. You were both adults, but nothing stopped you from feeding into the fruits of life and feeling youthful sometimes. You both did it for the hell of it because you knew that with each other, you could be anything. 

You’re too busy laughing to actually take notice of where your feet were taking you, feigning into the mess beneath you and tripping in your own feet. A loud thud leaves your descent, and with that, your boyfriend tumbling down on top of you because he was too clumsy for his own good. It was cute, really. Namjoon lets out a terrified shriek, his arms landing just beside your head - luckily because you’re pretty sure you would’ve earned yourself a long-surviving black-eye. 

“Got you,” he says rather flusteredly. There’s a hint of panic in his eyes that almost seems as if he’s seen God himself. Had the fall really taken the piss out of him? 

“No,” you state, shaking your head as best as you can. “Technically speaking, I got you.” You place a quick kiss on his pretty pink nose just for good measure, because in truth, you really did get him. He was on three points while you were on a steady seven. Namjoon pulls his lips in a taut line ever so shyly, hiding the growing smile planting itself on his face. No longer was he your arch-nemesis - your boyfriend was back to being your friendly neighbourhood giant. “Shouldn’t we get back to decorating? I thought you wanted to beat the others.” Perhaps it slipped through his mind because the second those words slip through yours, he’s already hoisting himself up and pulling you along with him. Kim Namjoon does not give up in the face of competition, that much is clear, even when he’d previously been working off a snowball fight.

“I couldn’t help myself!” He defends nonetheless, his palm scratching shyly at his mess of a mane. “But now that I think about it, we can have as many snowball fights as we want when we kick ass. A win-win situation, if I do say so myself.”

A win-win situation indeed. 

When the boys call later on in the evening, it becomes clear that Namjoon was second in lead - Jimin taking first place. While the rest were busy taking things easily, he’d effortlessly managed to get things done in only a short matter of time. He definitely wasn’t there to play. 

“No way. You’re cheating!” Taehyung accuses, astonishment evident from the little you could see of his face. His lighting was absolute crap. Despite his belief, Jimin easily shakes off his accusation with a mischievous grin. “I don’t know Taehyung, maybe if you hadn’t been slacking off at Taco Bell you would’ve been catching up.” 

“Wha-! What a heathen - I’d choose Taco Bell over this any day!”

“How dare you! This is Christmas decorating you red-headed scoundrel!”

“This isn’t about you Seokjin!”

“Might as well be,” Yoongi mumbles from beside him, lazily scrolling through his phone as a yawn escapes his lips. You might just think he’s aged by a couple of years because of this ordeal. “You’re all complete losers,” Jungkook comments, face completely mushed against his phone as he nibbles on whatever was in front of him. The kid feared absolutely nothing - the wrath of a butthurt Kim Seokjin wasn’t any different.

Namjoon squints at his phone. He clearly wasn’t wearing his glasses, nor his contact lenses, and you knew he’d face the consequences later on. You’ve spent countless days by his side tending to his colossal headache. “Are you… Are you eating raw pop tarts?”

“Yes.”

“Raw. Aren’t you supposed to toast them?” There’s confusion laced in his tone, and in between, intense fear. “That’s like, a felony.”

Jungkook lets out a scandalised gasp. “No way! I’m not letting this piece of divine heaven be tainted by modern technology! I don’t even have a toaster, and there’s no way in hell I’m touching the microwave.”

Hoseok snickers. “He thinks it’s going to explode.”

“Don’t test me! I know the evil that sits within that thing.” 

As complex at it was, you’ve come to the conclusion that there’s no explaining what these men are made out of. They’re simply built differently. In fact, you’ve grown out of trying to comprehend them, because you could be on your death-bed and they’d still be saying and doing things that would make you sigh and shake your head. 

---

Alas, the day has come, and so have the boys, who just wouldn’t stop rambunctiously banging on your door. You’re busy setting up the table, Mon at your feet wagging his tail excitedly. “Namjoon!” You call out, balancing a few plates on the palms of your hands. “Namjoon! Could you get the door?”

However, as much as you yell, Namjoon doesn’t respond. You suppose it’s because he hasn’t come back from wherever he had gone earlier during the day. Odd. 

Nonetheless, you set a few plates down on the dining table, hurriedly skipping over to your front door only to be trampled by none other than your special guests for the night. “Finally!” A rather over-dramatic Seokjin sighs, patting away the invisible sweat dripping down his forehead. “Waiting for you to open was like running a marathon. I swear!” 

You could only laugh as Jimin pulls you in for an embrace - it was in his habits to do so whenever he saw you. It’s not as if you mind, his hugs were by far the best you’ve felt. They were full of love and warmth, something that perfectly describes the man himself. “Don’t mind him,” he tells you, rolling his eyes at the dramatics his friend was making. “He really needed to piss.” 

“Sorry for taking so long - Namjoon hasn’t gotten back home from this morning.” 

“He hasn’t?” Yoongi neatly sets his shoes by the door, unwrapping a thick scarf from his neck, dangling it on your coat hanger. “That’s pretty unusual, he doesn’t like being out in cold weather.” 

“He probably got into some traffic,” you assume, “Hopefully he’ll be back soon. Until then, make yourselves at home. We’ll order take-out soon!”

All of you were like a proper family when it came to celebrating Christmas. Each year, sleepovers are taken in turns going from eldest to youngest. This year just so happens to be Namjoon’s turn - it’s not as if you mind, the house seems more lively when they’re around. They had that thing about them, that wherever they went they tended to make things brighter. Not once have you felt gloomy or perhaps left out. The seven of them all had qualities in contrast to one another, all showing you different ways of happiness. You’re lucky to say you have them in your life.

The wait for Namjoon continues. You all settle with playing board games, for the time being, the living room turning into a whole battleground because Yoongi can’t go by without cheating once in a while. He was really cunning, you could see Taehyung trying to pick up on his tricks. 

“Uno!” Jimin yells, shoving a proud middle finger in Seokjin’s face. The man could faint from the amount of disrespect he was receiving. “Try beating that, old man.” 

“I’ll tell you I’m more than an old man! I want a rematch. You’re all cheats, all of you.”

“You’re just a sore loser.” Jungkook was on thin ice. His nitpicking on Seokjin was getting him nowhere but pure, utter hell while he was sleeping. You admire his courage - he was fucking insane. “Sore losers don’t win, old man.” 

Seokjin almost gets up to throttle him for his constant bullying when the door swings open and you’re all met by layers upon layers of clothing stomping inside. He’s carrying a bunch of bags you can’t seem to decipher, and you could see his nose poking out from his scarf. 

Finally, Namjoon’s back home. 

“Hey __, I’m back. I’m sorry I took so-” 

“Joon, you idiot!” Before you could even bat an eye, Taehyung and Hoseok were on the man like hungry beasts. He was already eaten up by whatever garments he was wearing, the only pieces missing were the duo for him to finally disappear. “What took you so long? We were worried sick! Jimin can’t DJ for the life of him.” 

“Hey-!”

You hoist yourself up and dust off whatever remnants of gingerbread cookies were left on you. All the concern that had been building up over time of Namjoon not being home had now diminished. Sudden relief washes over you because you hadn’t really noticed how worried sick you’ve been until he’d stepped into the house. Namjoon can be really impulsive sometimes. 

“Joon,” He wraps his arms around your smaller figure and places a gentle kiss on your forehead. “Where have you been? Had me really worried for a second there.”

There’s this cheeky look in his face that makes you swoon. He’s so lovely, in all his ways, you just can’t help but be filled with so much love. You love him. 

“I kind of… I kind of forgot to pick your present up. Sorry - Didn’t want to worry you, just a clumsy move.” 

He’s all you’ve ever imagined. 

“Get over here you two - we’re ordering take-out!” Your little moment is easily interrupted by the guys hollering you over, to which you oblige because you wouldn’t want to waste another second. You could hear Namjoon’s stomach grumbling a bit. “Have I been out for that long?” He queries, looking at you with a raised eyebrow. “Dummy, it’s six in the afternoon. It’s already dark.” 

“Well, I’m finally back home now, right where I need to be.” 

You don’t notice it, but there’s a little mistletoe just above your heads. And Namjoon knows this because he points up towards it with mirth laced in his pretty eyes and a pretty smile. “Merry Christmas,” he tells you before he leans in and gives you what you rightfully deserve.

[foulserpent]

chap1

4000 words - xikeel and ned enter a gate to oblivion, and find it already occupied by some troubled new owners. ned meets an old friend. xikeel flirts with someone who just threatened to throw her into lava. wat will happen next

"This is... Different." Ned stated needlessly.

Xikeel blinked. "Yes, a bit."

They stood just inside a gate to the Deadlands, the volcanic plane of Mehrunes Dagon. This was hardly unusual for the two of them. They had been named the "Heroes of Kvatch" after all, and could barely go anywhere together without the town guard recognizing them and demanding their assistence. As a team, the argonian and bosmer had an almost preternatural talent for navigating this realm while skillfully not dying. It had been a few months since the sack of Kvatch, and this alien plane had already lost its novelty. 

What was unusual was the lifelessness of this island . And the piles of dead dremora soldiers placed in methodical stacks on the rocks nearby, all of their heads severed and dripping black blood down the stakes that ran through their mouths. And the fact that Xikeel and Ned two were standing waist deep in lily pad laden swamp water.

Before finding themselves in an unexpected wetland, the “Heroes of Kvatch” had been on their way back to Bruma from a stressful and ultimately fruitless weeklong errand to the Imperial City. Xikeel had been taking on her morning chore of feeding Shadowmere scraps of meat that the lazy horse had grown too spoiled to scavenge for herself. She had last seen Ned lying in a patch of sun, smoking something that left a pleasant, earthy scent on the nose, and just the slightest hint of sweet burned meat on the tongue.

She didn't rush him. In fact, she meant to join his basking as soon as she finished packing. It would be another three day's ride to Bruma, and the two were in no particular hurry to return to their friend with tidings of "the Mages Guild's library and every book seller in the city was cleaned out of most books on Daedric ritual runes, the only ones we got from your list were Glories and Laments and that one on alchemical uses for every organ in a clannfear, which we're guessing was more for light reading than anything else. Ned got a new sword though!"

Xikeel had just returned the sack of meat into Shadowmere's saddlebag when she found herself frozen. The background melody of insects and frogs had ceased as if they'd been wiped out of existence in the space of a heartbeat. She dimly processed that something was deeply wrong just as air then closed a heavy hand around her, hot and thick in a manner alien from the already oppressive humidity of central Cyrodiil’s jungle. Each breath was a gulp of something horrid that dripped into her lungs with an overwhelming taste of blood and ozone. She felt herself lagging a few inches behind her body. She felt each moment as an age.

The world seemed to take a breath. Tensed itself. Then, something instinctive in Xikeel became aware that time had resumed its normal function, just as the air split with a thunderous crack. A blast of energy knocked her off her feet and into the bush, leaving her stunned and gasping for breath, only dimly registering the colossal splashing noise that followed.

A high pitched whine filled the air. The soft morning light bled red. A gate to oblivion had just opened almost directly on top of their camp.

"Holy FUCK!" Ned yelled.

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

Now, they stood just within the gate, soaked and half coated in pond-scum. The water and the corpses of the realms inhabitants were unusual, but now that Xikeel had time to look at this island, so was its layout. They were in a great chasm between two parallel rows of towers, all connected by bridges and almost entirely shattered. At the center was a recognizable sigil keep, but it keeled to the side at an angle that should not have been possible to sustain. Rubble hung suspended mid-fall. Most strangely of all, its top was cleaved off entirely, with the sigil stone and its column of fire visible even at this great distance.

"You think we should even do this?" Ned sniffed. "I mean, what the hell even happened here?"

Xikeel scented the air. Blood, ozone, the smell of dead immortals, swamp. And underneath it all- "Ned, there were argonians here. I am smelling us everywhere!" She looked around in excitement. She began to sniff the air furiously, taking several steps forward.

"Hang on ‘Eel, this isn't right." Ned splashed up behind her.

"Well I am not smelling the smell of hostility, so I'm going to-" the words caught in her throat as her bare foot came down on something fleshy. Something that gave a start. Something that turned on a dime and plowed away through the water with just one swing of a massive tail.

"Ah. Someone is here." Xikeel said simply. The bosmer groaned behind her, beginning to draw his sword as Xikeel continued to stare ahead excitedly.

All was still for a moment. Subtly, the tip of a snout broke the dark water, followed by a pair of hooked horns. Two eyes blinked up at them, glowing dimly with reflective light. No one moved.

The water surged away as a massive form hoisted itself from beneath. A bulky, green  argonian man now loomed before the two of them, squinting through the dim light as he set down an equally hefty spear in the muck. He had wide red eyes, crowned with a rather small pair of horns resembling those of a bull. He flicked his forked tongue at the pair. Xikeel flicked back. He was not difficult to read. Big, but out of his element. Perhaps even scared- his gills flared outwards and eyes were held wide. He held the spear in an unpracticed grip, rather like one would hold a fighting staff. Oh!- she thought. He's just as confused as I am.

The strange man began to form the sound of speech deep in his throat, when his eyes narrowed on Xikeel's companion. He froze. A lily pad dropped from his shoulder into the murk with a fat plop. She heard Ned inhale sharply, before feeling his hand clumsily grasp at her shoulder and then lean as if he'd lost his balance. She stumbled under his weight, shooting him a questioning look, but his gaze was locked tightly ahead. Ned had the unmistakable look of a man seeing a ghost. Well, Xikeel had questions and no time for concerns of this man's corporeality.

"Hello, why are you h-"

Before Xikeel could speak another word, the water boiled and surged all around them. Dozens of argonians were rising from the murk and bearing down on the interlopers. The alien waters of the deadlands had been hiding an entire troupe of armed soldiers.

Every one of them appeared to hail from more deep-marsh tribes than Xikeel could count. They were scaled, scaleless, even feathered, all wearing little armor and many fresh wounds. The foremost soldiers crowded in, spear-tips lowered towards the interlopers. There was great murmuring, yet no one moved, as the troop seemed to await a signal.

How could she have been so stupid? This was a textbook ambush setup. They had probably walked directly over the hidden soldiers, staying perfectly still at the bottom of the water until their prey was surrounded. To be fair - she supposed, the deadlands of Mehrunes Dagon were not a textbook ambush location for a group of deep-marsh argonian soldiers. She stayed quiet as she observed, ignoring Ned's hand dug tightly into her shoulder. Something was off. Most of them bore the same look of confusion that had tugged at the first man's features. Their hands shook and their feet shifted. She sniffed. These were not trained soldiers.

The mass of soldiers rippled and awkwardly parted with sheepish expressions as a muscular and substantially smaller woman pushed through the front line. She was an unusual looking sarpa. And, Xikeel noted, she really was quite handsome. Her iridescent black feathers shed water like those of a waterfowl, yet she possessed the same fishlike gills as Xikeel's more reptilian stock. Unlike the other soldiers, she was fully armored in what appeared to be wamasu hide, treated for water and embroidered with beads. Even more unlike the other soldiers, her entire body radiated poise. Her feathery crest flagged erect, held almost as high as her spiked chin. With a grunt, she thrust her spear into the muck, and strode forward. The claws on her left hand were filed to the quick, hovering over a cruel looking dagger.

The green argonian saw this and let out a distressed chirp, drawing stares from those around him. A spiky companion glared and elbowed him, but the man let out a sharp hiss and stepped out of line towards his superior. She turned to glare at him. expectantly.  He grasped at words, opening and closing his wide jaw soundlessly until they caught on his tongue and sputtered out.

“(General, Ma’am, this - I know the bosmer. Uh, respectfully, he's not a, um. He's-")

His superior's eyes narrowed in annoyance.

("Go on, soldier.") ("Sorry, he's- Please don’t hurt him).” He finally spat out in increasing panic.

They were speaking Jel! Xikeel was not sure why this surprised her. Had it been that long since she'd even heard her native tongue?

The handsome woman turned, crest low to her nape, and spoke in a deep voice.

“(You know them?)” She jerked the corner of her snout towards the two, eyes narrow. This man far outclassed her in bulk, but looked tiny under her piercing red gaze.

“(The… the bosmer is a friend of mine. He kept me safe, when I was in the imperial’s arena. I don’t know why he’s here, but he can be trusted.)” He replied, using the familiar “he” pronoun to drive in his point.

“(And the saxhleel?)” The man with quill-like spines growled.

“(Ah... yeah, I... dont know her. But please...)” He trailed off.

“(I see.)” The woman’s slick feathers glimmered in the red light as she turned to stare the two interlopers down. “(But you don't give the orders here, Shap-Mota. I have half a mind to throw this mammal-licker and dryskin into the lava.)”

Shap-Mota let out another fearful chirp, looking between the woman and Ned in horror. His teeth were bared, gills held out far enough to show the pink flesh underneath. The general returned the gesture, half his size but bearing down with a practiced confidence that would have said otherwise. The crowd awkwardly waded back away from the two argonians. There would be a fight. Or, judging by how terrified Shap-Mota looked, a thrashing.  

Xikeel barely noticed the drama escalating around her, or the heavy breathing of her friend in the midst of an episode, and had instead been listening in silence and bristling with insult.  These people had wrongly clocked her as an ojel, an outsider. Assimilated and incapable of understanding the language.

“(Ah, excuse me. But you’re speaking my birth tongue, marsh-sister)” Xikeel interjected.

Shap-Mota and the general both whirled around, aggression nipped at the roots. The woman’s twitching crest betrayed a moment of surprise.

“(Interesting. It’s very rare to see a true egg-sibling in Imperial country.)” She mused. Some of the tension drained out of her taut frame, but her fingers still kissed the edge of her dagger. She paced back towards Xikeel and Ned. “(What is your business here?)”

Xikeel hesitated. Telling this woman that she was a shadowscale would easily have her rank most of the argonians present, perhaps even this general herself. However, if her story was later investigated and it was found that Xikeel the shadowscale was alive - and therefore had abandoned her order- the results would be catastrophic. Scales couldn't kill other scales, but deserters almost always wound up dead one way or another.

“(I am on an assignment of absolute secrecy,)” Xikeel bullshitted. "(I close these gates on this assignment, and this one just has appeared before me, as if fated...)" She paused for effect, and began to pace around, dragging Ned limply behind her. "(Yes, it pains me to say, but I cannot give more information, or the consequences may be dire. But I swear on the Hist of my birth that we are on the same side.")

A larger woman with a fishlike face snorted and flared her gills. “(Oh that's just rich. An ‘assignment of absolute secrecy?’ with that?”) She tossed her snout in Ned’s direction. Xikeel dared a nervous glance back at her friend. He still stood with the same dazed expression, eyes glazed and breathing slightly ragged. He was somewhere far away from here. Perfect.

Xikeel hissed dismissively. “(Please. In my field, having dumb muscle around cannot hurt)” she said with a practiced poker face. This seemed to satisfy most of the crowd. However, the large green man glared at Xikeel with a gaze that said he wanted to rip her in half, and a physique that said he very much could.

He opened his mouth and took a step towards Xikeel. "(You-)"

“(ENOUGH about the stupid elf! And get back to your fucking position!)" The dark-feathered woman took a frustrated swing in his direction him, feathers raised in irritation. He bowed back, continuing to glare from under his horns.

The general let out a groan of frustration and closed the gap between herself and Xikeel. She hooking a claw from her untrimmed right hand under Xikeel's chin, tilting it up slightly. 

"(If you are on our side, your business is not secret from a general of the An-Xileel.)”

Xikeel swallowed and flared her gills. “(Fine.)” She did not look at Ned, but prayed his attention would be captured enough to pick up on the ruse. “My name is Thux-Ha” Xikeel announced to the crowd in Cyrodiilic, then in Jel. She stretched out her neck and stood tall, as if to give credence to the name "Snake-Throat". She leaned towards the general, speaking quietly now.

"(I am under service of the King of the Black Marsh.)" she spoke in the old innuendo. "(I assume that will suffice.)"

The argonians close enough to hear rippled in surprise. Most outsiders still lingered under the assumption that the Black Marsh had a king, as if one saxhleel could ever represent the rainbow myriad of tribes that populated the land. To "Serve under the king" was merely to serve Sithis as Its scales, and Its scales were to be respected.

The general's eyes narrowed. She flicked her tongue. Xikeel flicked back. The larger woman huffed, leaning in until their muzzles nearly touched as the two took each other's scent in rapid succession.

Satisfied that "Thux-Ha" did not have the scent of a liar, the general leaned back.

"(She speaks truth)" She announced to the crowd. "(This is a kinsman. You will treat her with the same respect as myself. Believe it or not, this little snake ranks all of you)". She pulled her spear out of the murk, gesturing broadly.

"(Return to your positions. I'll finish dealing with our guests.)"

The crowd muttered amongst themselves, glancing back at the small argonian and elf in their midst, but did not object. They lowered themselves into the water, and began to kick off towards their separate posts. Xikeel counted the tails churning the algae. About fifteen to twenty saxhleel in total. Not counting herself, the general, and this "Shap-Mota" who remained staring at her friend with his hands clenched tight around his spear.

"(You too, soldier.)" The general addressed Shap-Mota. He gave a rather pathetic look at the still dazed bosmer before awkwardly flopping back into the murk.

The general remained standing before Xikeel, watching with narrowed eyes and a wrinkled nose as her troupe finished melting back into the water. Once it looked like they were never there, her piercing eyes returned to Xikeel.

"(Thux-Ha.)" She said, an odd quaver pulling at the edge of her voice.

"(Yeah?)"

The general looked around again, rotating her neck to scan the full perimeter. Then whipped back and dropped her face to Xikeel's level. In one moment, all of her previous poise rolled from her feathers like water.

"(We need help. Badly. Do you have a couple days?)"

Xikeel could barely keep herself from startling. She played off the motion into a shift of the feet, squinting in a smile.

"(Ahh, as I said, I have an assignment of great importance. I am unsure I can make time in my schedule... What is it you need?)"

The general drooped even lower, crest held tight against her neck.  

"(Every. Single. Person alive here is a civilian soldier. The other two troupes all got FRIED by the damned stupid sigil rock, and I am the only damned STUPID fucking ranking soldier left!)"

"(Oh, wow, that's-)"

"(We have one of our mages left trying to get us back to the marsh, and now that it's just me and my fucking auxiliary troupe of unpracticed nobodies left, we've got the GODDAMN dremora harassing us every other day and she can't get anything done!)" The general raved.

Xikeel searched for a response, but was distracted by the sound of splashing. Ned had wandered a few meters away, searching the water where the green argonian had been. He hissed a name. She shook her head and returned her attention to the general.

"(Uh, the gate is right there? You could always leave. Y-")

"(No the hell we can't! This is life or death for more people than you can possibly imagine!)". The general threw out her arms in exasperation, a few downy feathers flying like confetti. She remained in that position, eyes begging the woman's response.

"Shap? Shap-Mota?" Ned was several feet away, whispering at the water. The two argonian's eyes flicked to him, then back to each other. "(Well, what exactly are you wanting me to do? Because I am not sure what you are wanting from me.)" Xikeel said, putting her hands on her hips.

"(Just- Just come have a look at the sigil stone thing. See if you can help our mage. I know you came here to take it, shadowscale, but I believe our assignments here differ.)"

"Frog?" Ned called louder, flapping his hand around in the water as if to summon the man. The general whipped her neck towards him, then back at Xikeel. Her red eyes narrowed in exasperation as she brought her claws to her face yet again.

"(Can you PLEASE tell your elf to shut up?)"

"Ned, the general wants you to please shut up." Xikeel called over her shoulder.

Ned spun around and gestured wildly at her, mouthing something that was probably a curse. Xikeel smiled back at him, winking and giving the "okay" signal.

Xikeel turned away before she could see his response. "(I've told him. But I will need to confer with him first, let him know what is going on, yes)?"

The general's body melted with her sigh. "(So you will help?)"

"(I will see what I can do.)" Xikeel said casually, checking at her filed claws. "(Though, I would feel much better about taking this time off my assignment if I were to know your name, friend.)"

The general startled slightly, looking a little sheepish.

"(Ah, yes I - Ah - suppose we're of the same rank. It's Kot-Veesk.)"

"(Pleased to be working with you, Kot-Veesk.)" Xikeel smiled. 

Kot-Veesk stiffened back into her military poise, hands clasped behind her back.

“(You'll be doing a great service to me, and to the Marsh. Meet me by the spire as soon as you're finished)” The general said. Without another word, she strode collected her spear and vanished into the water.

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

Ned finally seemed to have come back to reality as he cautiously approached. "Um, hey Thux-Ha." he said quietly. "Could you tell me what's going on?"

"The general here requests our assistance, and it’s probably pretty much what we were here to do anyway. Maybe. And I expect you to be polite and careful with what you say. A lot of these saxhleel likely understand your tongue and we do not need you insulting them, or compromising our assignment."

"Right." He said plainly, looking awkward.

The fact that Ned did not sass back seemed to indicate his understanding of the underlying message - "I had to lie to them, we’re probably still surrounded,  please in Sithis' name do not say ANYTHING that could come back to bite us"

"Listen, where did that one we saw first go? He was-he was just here a second ago."

"Ah, the green one? He said to them that he knew you. Who-"

They were interrupted by the man himself emerging yet again from the murk, looking around nervously as if he expected the general to descend upon him with the wrath of a god at any moment. Satisfied at her absence, he turned his gaze to Ned with an intensity that burned the air between them more than the open flame of the deadlands already had. Finally, he spoke in near-perfect Cyrodiilic.

“Nedirael? That is you, isn’t it?"

Xikeel turned to her friend in a whole new type of confusion, dropping her arms into the universal gesture for "what the hell is going on?". It was to no avail, as Ned continued to stare past her with a face twisted into a crossroads of relief and absolute agony.

"Hi, Frog.” He responded in a wavering voice.

“’Nedirael’???” Xikeel hissed.

‘Frog’ dropped his spear and practically lunged for the shell-shocked bosmer. Xikeel instinctively reached for her knife, only to be stopped by a sight more unexpected than some long delayed enactment of revenge.

Shap-Mota had bent down and pulled the bosmer into a gentle embrace, emitting a pleased rumble as he eagerly pressed his forehead against Ned’s. He then rubbed the bridge of his snout against the other man's face, slow and savoring, in a gesture Xikeel knew well as an affectionate greeting. A very, very affectionate greeting. Ned seemed to know this as well, as he shakily returned the gesture, eyes still wide. The only sound was the two men’s horns awkwardly clacking against each other.

Shap-Mota finally pulled back, still holding a slightly limp Ned by his shoulders.

“It is so good to see you, old friend!"

"It's. Yeah it's.." Ned trailed off, his yellow eyes starting to look bloodshot.

"Are.. you okay?" Frog cocked his head. Ned had suddenly become very interested in the murky water still lapping at his own legs. His eyes locked downward, lips trembling.

“I thought you died.” Ned said flatly.

Shap-Mota recoiled slightly, hissing faintly in confusion.

"Wha- How?"

"Are you kidd-You were being dragged off the killing floor the last time I saw you, I-" Ned's voice caught in his throat. Shap waved at the air with his hands as if grasping for words. "I... I was released! They carried me out after that... I, ah, know I was not allowed to say goodbye, but I figured at least one of the guards might have told you?"

Ned shook his head, looking like he'd just been kicked in the stomach. He laughed without humor. "Uh, no. I asked for you and they always just said they didn't know, didn't care. You... You know how they were."

The argonian was silent for a moment.

“They just released me after my last match. Said my sentence was up. I wanted to stay and wait for you, but... Well, I'm sure your argonian friend has told you about how the Hist started calling our people back." He spat the word 'friend' like venom, glaring at Xikeel. She was about to say something, when he shook his head and continued. "I... I'm so glad they freed you, too. I wish I could have stayed to see it.”

"Yeah, uh. So do I." Ned murmured, half to himself.

The two stood in a morose silence, bridged by Shap-Mota's now limp arms still grasping Ned's shoulders. Ned finally stepped back out of the man's grip, rubbing at his eyes a little too hard. His knuckles were coming away wet.

Xikeel made up her mind as his breathing began to hitch. This was probably none of her business.

"Stay where I can find you, old man." She said to Ned, walking off towards the spire and not waiting for a response.

[plounce]

god ik its a wm au but I would Love to hear more about beauyasha in this au.. also like what has yasha been up to on earth? how does she interact with beau and caleb before molly arrives? 💜🕊

>:)))! i can absolutely do so!!

so in the first two or so seasons before all the heaven/apocalypse stuff, beau and caleb met yasha in an episode. she never SAID she was a valkyrie but that’s what they assumed she was, since she had a lot of viking stuff on her and the accent and she sort of implied that. it’s what made sense at the time, especially because they had no signs that angels are a real thing.

then molly happens, and then when yasha shows back up again they recognize each other and WHAT! YASHA’S AN ANGEL ACTUALLY?? crazy.

basically what happened is that at around 200 bce or so, yasha fell in love. i’m gonna say that zuala was another angel in her garrison, and angels aren’t supposed to fall in love. they’re supposed to be conforming divine warriors who don’t have all the flaws (or strengths, or texture, or spark) that humans do.

zuala was painted as the main culprit in this transgression. rather than making her Fall (les mis voice) as lucifer fell (because by that point they didn’t want to add any more True demons to hell’s side) for punishment, they decide to just obliterate her a la the hellfire in the last scene of the good omens tv show. it isn’t pretty. yasha is made to watch. she screams, and it makes the sun flare.

the rest of the angels are going to have their memories wiped of her - including yasha - but she learns of this in time and breaks through the floor of heaven and plummets to earth. molly helps her escape, but manages to avoid getting caught doing so.

molly was in the same garrison as them, and his memory of zuala was wiped with the rest of them. he remembers yasha, remembers being fond of her, remembers that she left heaven voluntarily and that he helped her, but there’s so many blank spots. they have him move garrisons to the tomb-takers after that, who are very elite and militant, and he becomes a demon-killing expert. it’s meant to drown out all that. and it kind of works; molly remembers more of yasha when he sees her again on earth.

yasha falls and falls and her angel blade slips from her hand as she dematerializes. it plummets and falls deep into some wilderness. a glint streaking down from the shooting star in the sky that night.

what happens next is the thing that happened with anna - yasha has no vessel lined up and she wasn’t given permission to leave, and is swiftly getting her grace cut off by heaven, and her being is transformed into a human baby. she is born, and grows up in a little scandinavian village a little bit strange. her parents tell her how there was a huge shooting star the night she was born, how they think it’s a good omen form the gods, and she has a sense that she’s different - special. she’s strong and naturally gifted with the club and the axe and especially the sword - anything they put in her hands.

when she’s old enough, she’s chosen to go on their clan’s raids. she excels at getting the resources her village needs from the southern peoples. she’s a terror, and everyone knows that she’s blessed from above.

then one year, she gets separated from the raiding party and is making her way through the forest trying to make it back to the coast so she can find their boat. and out of the corner of her eye she sees a strange glint, and something in her pulls her to go to it. it’s a strange sword embedded in the rock, and she puts her hand on it, and pulls –

and memories and power flood into her. memories of zuala, of creation, of molly, of heaven’s gleaming pathways, of zuala, of the first things that crawled on land, of zuala, of the face of god, of zuala, zuala, zuala. smiling, flying, fighting, touching, burning. she screams. her howl echoes through the woods.

her people have been waiting for her back at the boat, because they can’t leave their best warrior behind. when she strides out of the woods, she’s different. she walks different, and has this power radiating from her. she climbs on the boat, tells them to go. she’s almost glowing a little bit. they row away, and yasha spends the entire journey staring up at the sky, out at the horizon.

after that day she’s different. even quieter. everyone assumes she had a holy experience that day, and she doesn’t disagree, because, well. after that day she’s keenly aware of the norse gods’ presences, and doesn’t age. when she realizes that everyone is moving forward towards death without her (humans seem so small now - she loves her human parents, she does, but remembering what the sun looked like in its infancy changes a viking), she leaves, and goes to asgard, and pledges herself to the ranks of valkyries. she’s not nearly as strong as she once was, but she’s strong enough to fit in with her new people, so she finds herself a place there among the aesir.

(side note im keeping my distance from how this world interacts with non-abrahamic religions - thats SO not my business - just know theyve got their own power and their own places that aren’t like. Beneath that of abrahamic god. because iirc spn was terrible about that) (also i say abrahamic bc iirc islam has a lot of angels and demonology in its culture but thats all im gonna say bc again: i am not a theology major, and this au is much more about the surface fun of it all rather than making any statements or assertions about ACTUAL religions (past or present) obviously) (also i’m never gonna mention jesus or the antichrist or whatever)

the angel blade is tied to her grace. her grace still exists up in heaven, locked away in the archives, so the blade still has its source. it also contains her love for zuala and molly and - and all that she loved before she was torn apart - and that fuels it, connects it to her. gives her access to its power. she’s mostly just sort of supernaturally stronger and can take more of a beating than a normal human, and on certain days/times of year she can fly short distances. days that were holy to her. she carves norse runes on her blade, because it’s hers now. she can’t age or die of old age, but she still does have human needs - food, water, sleep. she’s tough, but if she’s unlucky then she can be killed. luckily, she’s very good at fighting.

her wings… they’re not like they once were. being with the valkyries makes humans see them like other valkyries’, but the aesir can see them for what they are - decayed, fragile, skeletal things, with what remaining feathers there are barely hanging on. like her feathers in cr proper.

after ragnarok, when the surviving aesir meet in the fields of asgard, yasha thanks them for their hospitality, and returns to midgard. she wanders for a while, mostly by herself. she helps when she sees people who need her help, but mostly she just keeps herself alive and moving. quiet, contemplative. loving god’s creation even though heaven hurt her deeply. she spends years not speaking to anyone. what happened to the aesir was traumatizing to her, and she’s secure enough that she doesn’t need what they gave her when she was “younger.”

at some point she makes her way to north america. she wanders, builds cabins, and when she stumbles upon the opportunity she watches over what she once watched over. she’s aware of Hunters but is uninterested in them - they’re not hunting for food and while they help widows and the grieving that’s not their Business. not her business.

flash forward to early season 2. we know beau and caleb by this point and the basic premise of the show and the world. on a hunt in montana beau and caleb take shelter in a cabin during a snowstorm, and in the middle of the night the door opens. beau is taking watch and shoves a gun up in the intruder’s face - but it’s just yasha, holding a deer carcass and looking distinctly unimpressed. “you’re in my house.”

beau stutters an apology, caught entirely off guard by the 6′5″ mountain of a woman, and yasha shoulders past her to the table to stoke the fire and clean her kill. it’s her dinner for next month, yasha gruffly explains when beau asks what she’s doing. don’t like supermarkets.

caleb wakes up to beau helping yasha cut away the entrails. he is very frightened and confused, but when beau gives the all-clear he calms down a little. not entirely, because he knows this woman is beau’s type, and they’re still on a hunt.

they explain what they’re up to to yasha, who nods. says she’s noticed things have been strange. and beau helped her, so. she’ll help them. she’s also bored, and has a good feeling about these two.

so she helps out with the hunt, and throughout the episode beau clumsily flirts with her and yasha never turns her down but also never Flirts back. there’s a tension that’s mostly powered by beau but isn’t shut down by yasha (yasha thinks beau’s sweet and attractive, and she’s taken some human lovers over the last two millennia, but is still devoted to the memory of zuala. the audience doesn’t know that thought). she and caleb connect on a We Are Both Quiet Introverts level, like they do in actual cr (reminiscent of the shaving scene after bowlgate).

it isn’t until the end that caleb and beau think she’s anything but a mountain lady. then she pulls out a HUGE GLOWING SWORD carved with RUNES and THERE’S SOMETHING BEHIND HER THAT LOOKS LIKE WINGS? and then she nods, says goodbye, and walks away into the woods before caleb and beau can pepper her with questions about what the fuck just happened.

they run after her, but can’t find her or the cabin again. in the car ride back to civilization, caleb theorizes that she might be a valkyrie, and beau’s like yeah that sounds appropriately sexy.

yasha is a fan favorite. she had a whole focus episode and she was so mysterious and cool! the audience clamors for her to be brought back, and are sad when she doesn’t show up for the rest of season 2. beau and caleb mention her a couple times, so it’s made plain that she isn’t TOTALLY a one-off, but… hm!

beaujester shippers already existed by this point (jester was in season 1 and again in season 2), and beauyasha gains some popularity. beau having attractions to both of them is present in the show, but she isn’t dating either of them. there’s significance to both of them - they’re both people beau thinks of when she thinks of having Somebody.

a lot of fic about yasha is written between seasons 2 and 4, theorizing about her life as a valkyrie and what her and beau meeting up would be like… which is all then jossed when angels happen in season 4.

caleb gets taken to hell at the end of season 3 because of ikithon and for beau. during his last couple days on earth, he begs beau to find jester. or hell, yasha. don’t be alone, please. live and be happy. go get - go get powerlifted by one or both of them. i heard you sleeptalk enough about that. and beau tells him to shut up, don’t talk like that, i’ll - i’ll find a way to bring you back. and then you can see me get gay married or whatever it is you want me to do. because i’m gonna get you out of there. and caleb smiles, and his eyes say we both know you won’t.

there’s a whole genre of fic about jester or yasha (or both) comforting beau and settling into hunting/domesticity with her or helping her rescue caleb after caleb gets dragged away btw. idk why im making up fake fic about this au but you know what. i deserve this.

yasha is sort of put out of mind in the heaven excitement of season 4 and the arrival of molly as a third companion, turning their duo into a trio half the time. the apocalypse stuff isn’t quite happening yet btw (this is where i start diverging from the seasonal structure of spn), it’s just angels being real and caleb and beau being mysteriously important to them.

there is one point where during the beginning of an episode about halfway through the season where they’re regaling molly with a story of one of their hunts - beau is trying to embarrass caleb with a time he got enthralled by a siren, and caleb bats back with well, at least i didn’t let a giant woman with a dead deer push my gun aside so she could skin the thing with no enchantments on me at all. and beau’s like AW CMON DUDE DONT BRING YASH INTO THIS.

then there’s a shot where their bickering dialogue continues but the camera is focused on molly, who tilts his head a little, considering, then takes a sip of his orange juice (he hates coffee - too bitter! if he’s going to consume something to keep up the idea that he’s human, it’ll be something that tastes good!). then it cuts to the car.

it’s intentionally ambiguous if that’s about caleb getting seduced by a siren, beau being embarrassed, or whatever - it’s just an odd little moment. which is significant when they’re up north again, four episodes later, in a little restaurant off the highway, and they’ve just finished their meal and talk about the season plotline is happening when the door SLAMS open, and booted feet stomp across the dirty tile, strong legs in worn jeans, a huge backpack - beau’s eyes widen - and there’s yasha, striding directly to their table with a look of utmost focus and determination.

beau goes to stand, caleb’s brow furrows - yasha, what are you doing here - what’s going on - when, before they can act, molly stands up, causing the table to rock and their cups to slosh over. yashael! he exclaims, his face split in incredulous delight. you’re alive! you survived! you’re okay - it’s been millennia! what are you doing here?! oh, i don’t care, get over here. and he goes to her, and she hugs him, and beau and caleb are standing there, slack-jawed, as stony stoic yasha cracks a wide smile and hugs molly and lifts him off the ground.

did… did mollymauk just say ‘yashael?’ caleb says, stunned. molly is cradling yasha’s face in his hands, and her cheeks are round with joy. beau’s imagination could never have given her this smile, and she’s jealous a little bit, but also in awe, but mostly also trying to process the two puzzle pieces that just locked themselves together that she thought were totally separate from each other.

(relevant posts to their reunion: art, text, text)

from then on yasha is part of their group, at least for that season. there’s a lot of caleb and beau commiserating over their attraction to two LITERAL ANGELS - especially when the truth of yasha’s fall is revealed. beau is torn up inside about all of it - an ANGEL, for the first part, and her dead angel lover (how could beau ever compete with an ANGEL) and, oh christ, molly’s odd humoring of her crush on yasha is cast in a new light now.

and then jester comes back and… well, now beau’s torn between two hot girls who are both important in the grand scheme of things! yipes!

it takes a long time and there’s probably also some romantic drama in that triangle etc, but beauyaster is endgame. because i have a huge fucking brain.

[writeforself]

Elysium Dream

Alexios x Adonis

A/N: It’s been a while. Extra note in the end.

To Adonis, Elysium is a prison.

He never has a voice in the decision, to be shared between two deities, and to be separated from his love, love itself, for one-third of a year. He never gave much thought to it. Like most of the mortals, he just accepted his fate.

During his time in Elysium, all he could think of is Aphrodite from above. The grandeur and tranquility of her palace, their time together as they tread across the most magnificent field he has ever seen, the charming words of the most alluring voice in the world, the affectionate touches between the exhilarating embraces. After all, what more could you ask when you’re loved by beauty itself? All he ever asked is to be returned back to her.

His mind wanders while he saunters across the field of Elysium. Persephone’s sweet praises sounds like nothing but the tedious autumn winds, her touch like the burning chain that gashes his glowing skin. A prisoner receives no love from his captor. Love justifies all behaviours; love deceives all. However, indulging himself in melancholy merely enriches suffering.

His time in Elysium provides him with some ideas. As he walks among the mortals and eavesdropping their conversation, he has learned the idea of rebellion. Freedom is not given but something to fight for, so he has heard. If he wants to spend more time with his love, he has to find a way to do it, even if it defies the will of gods.

His has set his goal. But how to achieve it? Although he might have some knowledge in hunting, or even fighting, he knows no arts of conspiracy, strategy, nor war. Not to mention the mortal in Elysium would ever think of defying its ruler. From the conversation he heard, he couldn’t distinguish if other mortals were afraid of the deity, moreover dare to defy her. He has no ally nor help, all he has is his stubborn self.

Adonis has a dream, to escape.

***

He only just notices the solitary branch of an apple tree creeping along the desolate wall. The white flowers glitter under the eternal sunshine. Faint fragrance of the tiny blossoms travels into his nasal with the gentle wind sneaking through the crack of the room. Chatters and laughters flies into his ears as the grasses around him rustling in the breeze.

He wakes up from a light slumber, and climbs up to the top of the ruined building for the panoramic view of their camp. It has grown so fast since Alexios’ arrival in Elysium. Until now, he still couldn’t believe that Alexios is not here to act as a spy of the gods, but solely here to help.

Nevertheless, he still has doubts that Alexios is sent by gods, without conscious, to evaluate Adonis’ loyalty to Aphrodite. He is not easily fooled. That’s what they do best, trickery. He won’t fall for it. No matter how Alexios possesses a different beauty compared to Aphrodite; no matter how honourable Alexios has been acting so far; no matter how his heart fluttered when Alexios first clumsily winked at him with those silly words. Although they have been flirting for a while he wants to fight against the temptation. He believes only belongs with one being. Gods are not fond of sharing. If this be a test, so be it. But a little spice to add up difficulties would be exciting.

Out of the corner of his eye he glimpses a familiar shadow moving between the rebels. He can hear a clear voice among the clamour of them calling his name. Then he remembers his dream from the slumber. His fingers dig into the gritty walls. Standing still, he watches and holds his breathes, as the person looks up to the ruins and meets with his eyes. He turns, running into the shade of the building.

He quivers.

He is certain that there’s something in those chestnut eyes under those rugged eyebrows calling for him, luring something resting deep inside him. But he has Aphrodite.

“Ah there you are, Adonis.”

He saw him climbing into the room from the broken wall. He always finds a direct way. When he speaks, his expression seems to light up the room. The sun in Elysium has never been so ablaze before he arrives. No, banish these thoughts Adonis.

“Alexios! Back already?” He puts on a smile to welcome Alexios back. It doesn’t matter who Alexios might be. He has been a great assistance so far. “Your task was simple. I figured you would want it done as soon as possible. Plus, your presence brighten up this place.”

Alexios’ body shakes as he chuckles. The blood clinging onto his bare chest has already dried up. Adonis can see the splashed blood tangled with the chest hair, those strings of dark fibre looks even clear under the dark crimson. They rise and fall along the wave of soft laughter.

“A warrior bathed in blood is not a bad sight as well. Anyway, we have more urgent task at hand. Meet me at the collapse tower later.”

He smiles as he replies. Yet the muscle around his lips feels rigid. He turns his head to another side to concentrate. It is a great place to get a bird’s-eye view of Elysium. Butterflies drift in the warm breeze around them aimlessly.

“Alright, I’ll meet you there.”

Alexios leaves without asking further questions. Adonis is unsure whether he would like to hear more from Alexios. But there are formal matters at hand, no time for idle words.

He presses down his desire and ventures on his quest.

***

With the clear evidence in hand, he still could not assimilate the truth. He has been betrayed by the love of his life, the only motivation pushing him to escape from this place. Now he finds out that her love was as hollow as this paradise, her love as vain as Persephone’s. 

He has sent Alexios away on a trifle. He wants to be alone… needs to be alone. Doubts rise inside him, battering against his commitment. He needs to think, but what’s there to think about when the naked truth rips him apart like executioner’s bloody axe?

He retreats himself to a cottage located high on the peak north of Iapeto’s Ruins. Usually there’s only Leonidas who wanders around here, but right now he’s training the rebels. Therefore, Adonis can claim this place as his own, for now.

Little does he know, someone has arrived before him.

“Alexios? What are you doing here?”

Next to the tree lies Alexios. His dusty armours scatters around him, lying around as if he just took them off in a hurry. There’s nothing on him but a dark fabric hanging around his waist. He beams at Adonis as he approaches.

“Adonis! What a pleasant surprise!”

Alexios pulls himself up to make a seat for Adonis. Then he pushes the armour out of their sight, until the only thing left in front of them is the bonfire quietly grilling sticks of fishes and the small cottage standing beneath the blue sky. Elysium has never seemed so peaceful.

“What are you doing here?” Adonis questions again, still confused. “Having some fish of course. What does it look like?” Alexios laughs as he stirs the burning wood to make the fire stronger. “I mean HERE. What are you doing HERE?” “Oh, right… You see, this is actually my home. Well, my grandfather’s… this is where I grew up. Not here, back in Sparta. Actually I grew up in another island, it’s a long story. Anyway, this is the only place in Elysium I can feel somewhat relaxed.” He rambles on while he turns around the fishes. “It’s funny they have my home here, in Elysium. Maybe it’s because my grandfather was a great warrior. Well, still is…”

Adonis has stopped listening when Alexios started to ramble. He merely stares into the bonfire and Alexios. The dream from before comes back to him as he watches Alexios’ bare back shines beneath the sun. He gazes at how the muscles tense and soften with Alexios’ every move, trying to remember how his hands wandered across that glowing skin in his hazy dream.

He realises that he doesn’t care about anything right now. Looking at Alexios is all he needed. To hell with the god of love. He is sick of the flimsy promises and grievous betrayal. Two can play this game.

When Alexios is done with the fire, Adonis throws himself on him without a second thought. He buries Alexios with kisses that could take one’s breath away. Pinning down Alexios on the ground, he feels the coolness of the grass in shade contrasting the heat radiating from Alexios flesh. It reminds him of war, of quarrel, of violence. In the end, all things seem to be the same for him, delight, hatred, devotion, nonchalance… all are the two sides of the same coin. At the moment he just wants to detach himself from everything but Alexios.

Alexios remains still as he takes in Adonis’ unexpected action. His hands hang in the air, afraid to repay this affection. Then he gently lays his hands on Adonis’ back, like he is trying to provide consolations for a wounded child. He can taste salt in his mouth; drips of tears struggle to slide down those silky cheeks.

There are no transition of seasons in Elysium, yet Alexios could taste the essence of four seasons in an instant. The blossoms had fallen, tore down from the tree. Leaves had lost their chance to revive before desolation devoured all. It reminds him of the snowy peak of mount Taygetos. All lives kneel before thee, almighty oblivion, sweet despair. There is no hope in paradise.

Eyes closed, face twisted, breathes shortened, Adonis finally pulls himself away from Alexios as he trembles.

Alexios says nothing. He holds Adonis in his arms while caressing that his dark lustrous curly hair. His silent weeps ripple Alexios’ heart, nourish his faith.

“I will take you out of here.” He whispers into Adonis’ ears, as the burnt wood cracks inside the blazing flames. A voice like the soft west wind Adonis has never experienced. “I promise.”

p.s. If there be a sequel, the mechanic canon will be out of the window. I can’t write much with just simulation. :)

[sarcasticgaypotato]

For the Chelldos writing request: what about GLaDOS tending to Chell's injuries (of any kind) and Chell is both surprised/comforted by how gentle GLaDOS handles her in such a vulnerable and weak state?

( Ok, I’m sorry Anon, I kinda altered this idea a bit, since I just wrote a fic called ‘Flirting and Foolishness’ that has a very similar concept.  So I hope you don’t mind that this isn’t exactly what you asked for, but if you’d like something a little closer to your request I would recommend reading the previously mentioned fic, as I’m very proud of it.)Chell honestly expected injuries when she came back to Aperture.She volunteered to test when it pleased her, and despite the fact that GLaDOS wasn’t trying to kill her, test chambers were still dangerous things. She could miscalculate a jump, get shot by a turret, or have a dangerously close call with an acid pit.  Physical injury was to be expected.Illness was not.

See, Chell hadn’t given much thought to her immune system as of late. It was something that she had never really had much use for, since she had been in Aperture- a surprisingly sterile place- for as long as she could remember.  As it turned out, not being exposed to anything for so long had weakened her body’s defenses, and left her quite vulnerable. Somehow, she managed to dodge a bullet the first time she left Aperture.  She didn’t get sick, and returned to Aperture shortly.She arranged a deal with GLaDOS, and now she lived here.  She wasn’t forced to test for her life, she was given a bed- NOT a sleeping pod, thank goodness-, and even a rather entertaining companion in GLaDOS.The robot was just as snarky as before, but the tone of her sarcasm only got friendlier as the months went by.The AI gave her mostly free rein of Aperture too, and that included being able to go outside whenever she wanted.  Chell rarely took advantage of that though, as there was very little for her outside but some wheatfields.Still, one day she decided it might be nice to poke her head outside for a little while and get some fresh air.It wasn’t a particularly long trip, just a short walk around the wheat fields. It took little more than an hour, at most.   And when Chell returned to Aperture, she felt fine.She went back down to her room and went about her day, though as the evening approached she realized that she was far more tired than usual.  She COULD go test, though she knew if she felt tired it was just a recipe for failure. She wouldn’t enjoy the experience, and GLaDOS wouldn’t get any good data from it.  There was no point.So instead,  Chell picked at her dinner absentmindedly for a while, before giving up and deciding to go to bed. Perhaps she was just out of it today.She fell asleep easily, unaware of the hell her body was about to bring upon her.It had only taken about two or three hours for her to wake back up with a start, gasping for breath.  She felt hot, like her skin was on fire.  And yet she was shaking, and covered in a cold sheen of sweat.  She was panting like mad, and it felt like she had just done twenty test chambers in her sleep.  Her body was incredibly sore, and she was out of breath.And incredibly nauseous, as she soon found out.An attempt at sitting up was quickly punished as Chell found herself doubled over her bed, vainly holding onto the small trashcan that she kept nearby as her stomach removed most of its contents.The feeling burned her throat, like she had been breathing neurotoxin all day long.  The taste was vile, and it felt as if her insides had been turned upside-down.Slowly, she fell back on the bed, her hand clumsily wiping at the corners of her mouth as she tried to get the horrid taste off her lips.  This was new.  And Chell already hated every second of it.She lied there for what felt like days, though in reality it was only about half an hour before her nausea struck again and she was forced to repeat the same process.    She had jumped through literal hoops, dodged bullets and fought killer AI in her time at Aperture, and yet this, this was what left her bedridden.Chell rolled onto her side, closing her eyes tight in a vain attempt to fall back asleep and hope that this would all be over in the morning.  It didn’t work.  She lay there in the dark for only about five minutes before she heard her door open.That was strange enough to get her to crack an eye open, only to see a rather familiar figure standing in front of her.A slender android with piercing gold eyes that seemed to burn like suns in contrast to the darkness of Chell’s room.“…I really should’ve known you were the reason for the smell down here.”GLaDOS. Of course.  This was her facility, and since she had made herself an android body, she had taken to patrolling around it from time to time.  Being stuck in a chamber for her whole life really did give her the need to stretch her legs after all.And of course that meant walking by her test subject’s room from time to time.Slowly, the android kneeled down in front of the bed, looking at Chell with an almost concerned expression.“…Let me take a look at you.”The statement was far closer to a demand than any kind of question, but Chell wasn’t about to argue.  She knew the core’s scanners could probably pick up what was wrong with her, and she wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth.What Chell expected from all this was for GLaDOS to look her over, made some snide remark about how she ‘shouldn’t have been so stupid and gone outside when it was perfectly comfortable in Aperture’ and then leave Chell to her own devices.  As it turned out, GLaDOS proved her wrong almost instantly.  The core put her hand on the human’s forehead incredibly gently, feeling the warmth that practically radiated from it.A frown followed this, and the core seemed to be doing her best to work out if anything was seriously wrong, or if this was just a bug.  Thankfully for Chell, the slight relaxation in the core’s shoulders after a minute or so seemed to point to the latter of the two options.“It’s just a flu. I don’t know what you were walking around in up there, but clearly your body wasn’t ready to handle it.  You should be fine with proper rest and care.”As much as that comment should’ve brought Chell relief, she couldn’t seem to muster up any feeling besides one of general discomfort and pain.  Everything felt sore and hot, and for some reason jumping into a pit of freezing water sounded really, really good right about now.Yet to her frustration, GLaDOS had grabbed her discarded blankets and pulled them back up on her.  She shot the android a confused and annoyed look, trying to struggle and kick them back off, despite her whole body feeling like lead.“Oh no you don’t.”  The core glared at her, keeping the blankets in place.  “I don’t care how hot you feel, Aperture is far from warm.  It’s cold down here, and you’re already trembling.”Chell pouted, but stopped struggling.  She was tired, and she knew that if she kept trying GLaDOS would have no problems with simply sitting on her legs until she stopped moving.  And despite the core’s repeated fat jokes towards humans, being made out of metal didn’t exactly make her light as a feather.So, with a couple deep breaths, Chell managed to calm herself down a small bit.  And in turn, GLaDOS did too.  It almost looked like the robot was concerned for her safety, and reacting out of fear for her health.  But that would be… completely ridiculous.  Sure, they had grown closer in the past few months, but she never pictured GLaDOS as the caring type.And yet… Maybe she was wrong.Slowly, the lights in the room started to turn on, stopping just short of being too bright for tired eyes.  It left the chamber in a dim glow that was easy on the eyes, but bright enough to see things and not be sitting wide awake in darkness.“Now I’m going to ask you to drink this, and please do try not to vomit it back on me.”  GLaDOS had what appeared to be a bottle of water in her hand,  taken from Chell’s mini-fridge.Putting anything into her body was incredibly off putting, so Chell found herself looking at GLaDOS with a sort of pleading expression.The core sighed, unscrewing the cap.  She placed it on the nightstand momentarily, before carefully slipping her arms around Chell and helping the girl into a slightly more upright position, presumably so she wouldn’t choke.“I won’t have you drink much, but I don’t think I need to tell you how easy it would be for you to get dehydrated like this? I could list off all the horrible things that would involve, but I’ll spare you the details.”And with that comment, Chell found her head being gently tilted back by GLaDOS’s hand on her chin.  Then, the water was pressed against her lips, slowly as to avoid any risk of choking.  Chell kept her mouth stubbornly shut for a moment, but found herself slowly giving in as GLaDOS’s fingers lazily stroked the edge of her jawline. It was oddly comforting, despite being a rather small action.She took a few sips of the cool water, finding that it felt surprisingly nice to have something to wash away the taste of stomach acid and bile in her mouth, despite the fact that she already felt uneasy at having something else in her body.GLaDOS, to her credit, seemed to pick up on Chell’s uneasiness, and pulled away, placing the water to the side and moving the trashcan a bit closer to the girl, just in case.Thankfully, Chell managed to hold back her nausea for the time being, sinking back into the bed with a low groan of pain.She felt horrible, and her mind seemed to be clouded with a sickly haze.  Still, breaking through that haze was a rather consistent thought.  She had never seen GLaDOS act like this. And it was… incredibly odd to the girl.The core was so… gentle.  She seemed to know what to do and how to go about it, all while treating Chell with a surprisingly tender attitude.  Sure, the occasional comment was a good reminder that this was, in fact, still GLaDOS and not a doppleganger that had replaced her when Chell wasn’t looking.This was no doubt the same core she had once fought.  The same core who was now running her fingers through Chell’s hair, slowly detangling it.The action was unexpected, but caused a low hum to escape Chell’s throat at just how good it felt.  The core’s hand was cool to the touch, and her actions felt like a massage.  She found herself trying to push into the hand, silently asking the AI to continue.Apparently, Chell’s reaction earned a smile from the core, accompanied by a low chuckle.“If I had known this was all it took to make you so content, I would’ve tried this ages ago.”Her voice was low, and kept incredibly quiet.  Chell was not asleep, though loud noises would be an incredibly unpleasant jolt from the more peaceful daze she had fallen into.  There was no doubt in the core’s mind that in about an hour or two she’d be rubbing the back of this human as her body continued to try and fight the illness in rather violent outbursts, but for now at least, hopefully the girl could get some rest.And Chell, though she wouldn’t think to do anything about it now, or any time soon, wanted to thank the core for all this.  She had expected to spend this time curled up on her bed alone, and instead she got the opposite.