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bloodiedrogue · 1 year ago

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PAINFUL VULNERABILITIES (5)

SUMMARY: When your past begins to blend into your present, you find yourself longing for Astarion's comfort.

PAIRING: Astarion & Female Reader

WORD COUNT: 3,648

WARNINGS: ANGST, hurt/comfort, body horror elements, descriptions of torture involving a knife, panic attack, sort of made up Illithid lore??? (I promise there's comfort in the end, I'm sorry!)

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Day 5 literally doesn't have a prompt because this idea got terribly out of hand so let's just ignore that and enjoy the angst, shall we?

(Also again, a lot of people's tags weren't working so next time if you haven't fixed it I will be taking you off the list because taglists are a bitch!)

CHAPTER LIST / MASTERLIST / NEXT CHAPTER

The nightmares start a few days later.

At first, they’re subtle. Wisps of darkness cloud your thoughts, leaving no memory behind. Silently it lingers, creeping through your skull in waves that inevitably crash against the shore, ripping you awake —leaving you breathless each time you’re left gasping for air in your dishevelled bedroll. When it happens, it always makes you jolt up to look around, trying to find the cause of your plague. The reason why you’re suddenly so wary to lay your head each night.

When you reach the Underdark they only get worse.

What were once forgotten memories become recurring torments. Endless onslaughts of clawed hands that scratch at your flesh, pulling back skin in massive chunks that pluck excitedly at your insides.

Thanks to the powers of the Illithid you feel every movement. Every poke and prod slips through you like a knife, cutting you down piece by piece until you’re nothing but a shell. An empty carcass of bone that’ll inevitably be harvested for a purpose far greater than yourself.

Or so she says. As you lie there, writhing in pain, blinking to shield the teeth that bear witness to your torture, you hear her whisper cool and quiet, telling you of your death. Of your fated downfall, and then of your—

You always wake up before she finishes.

Before you can hear her utter the words you’ve heard a thousand times. Feeling the burn of your lungs, you stretch your fingers across your chest in remembrance, breathing in and out as the skin beneath your digits runs hot and you’re forced to forget the experience all over again.

When you reach camp that night, sore from the seemingly never-ending mushroom forage, you find yourself dreading the prospect of such sleep. Even through the exhaustion, the last thing you want to do is rest your head lest she arrives tonight, so you fight the urge, settling in against the edge of the fire.

“You look tired.”

You turn to look at Gale with half-closed eyes, offering him the softest grin you can muster before turning toward the flames. They seem brighter than usual. A decorative flash of warm-toned hues that make you blink and rub your eyes, somehow feeling even more languid.

“Mushroom hunting take it out of you?”

You hum, making no move to look his way as you pull your knees to your chest, curling in on yourself for comfort.

As much as you’ve grown to like Gale’s company, all you want right now is silence. A moment of peace where you can just stare into the fire and let your eyes burn from something other than the lack of sleep. Especially after spending the day alongside Lae’zel and Shadowheart as some poorly trained mediator. Just the thought of opening your mouth to speak feels like a threat to your vocal cords. The prospect of speech too much to handle, even as Gale begins to fill you in on his and Wyll’s misadventures with a nearby myconid colony.

“They’re truly such interesting creatures. Did you know…”

His voice falls on deaf ears, earning you nothing but a confused sigh once he realizes you’re not listening. Mostly because it’s not normal for you to just blatantly ignore your peers.

“Are you alright? Need anything? Perhaps a drink or a—“

You’re standing upright before he can even finish his sentence, brushing the ass of your leathers before walking away, paying no mind to the curious wizard as he looks around the camp, catching the eye of Wyll who merely shrugs.

It’s not like you to leave. To ignore a friend mid-conversation but your voice is gone. Lost to the void of constant intercession and a brewing anxiety that sits in your chest. As you walk towards your tent you can feel it shifting. Starting at your gut, everything twists to form a sickly sting. A stabbing pain that throbs within your abdomen, threatening to grow as you part the fabric and crawl inside, plopping into bed face first.

Despite your better judgement, you let out a low groan you’re sure at least someone hears causing you to frown, knowing that you’re better than this. Better than neglecting your health because of some silly nightmares. Better than letting the fear of your past get the better of you. Better than brooding about it.

Turning to lie on your back, you palm the sockets of your eyes in frustration, letting your mind wander. Allowing yourself to feel everything you’ve been suppressing over the last twelve or so hours.

Aside from exhaustion, it’s mostly Astarion that surfaces. His face in the darkness looking at you as you left camp that morning, barely awake enough to give him a nod. In an instant it was as if he was there and gone, looking at you with an expression you couldn’t quite place before shifting out of view alongside an overly excited Karlach. It was the kind of look that made you question its intentions. Its knitted brows and pursed lips rising and falling through your memories between the scuffles of your two companions.

As you walked along the edges of the Underdark’s cliff sides, you couldn’t help but wonder what exactly it represented. What emotion it was trying to convey in such a small amount of time before it disappeared completely?

As you lie there now, once again imagining its form you feel it’s something bordering on pity. A showcase of solidarity in your obviously failing quest for sleep.

Astarion may not say much about your struggles —unlike him, you don’t complain about the endless problems that you face on the road— but you know he’s still aware of them. He’s too perceptive not to be.

So why hasn’t he said anything?

A heavy breath escapes. A shaky one damaged by speculation. Ruined by the assumption that it’s because he doesn’t care. That perhaps you aren’t worth the trouble of a little bit of worry despite previous actions.

You may have killed for him —had his back long before anyone else, but have such feelings ever been reciprocated? Has your worth been proven now that you’ve slain a man in his honour? And if so, how much worth do you truly hold? Is it substantial enough to ask you how you are? Big enough to look at you with any semblance of fondness? Or is it all just for show?

There’s a part of you that hopes it is. That the moments filled with kindness are nothing more than lies told to keep your attention. If he were lying, it wouldn’t necessarily make the way you feel right now any better but it’d mean that there’s an end. A barrier to stop you from getting in too deep. An excuse you could use to explain the naivety of thinking he may care.

Because it wavers —his care. Some days it’s obvious, sometimes it’s not. You can never guess when the care will appear, only that when it’s there and eventually dissipates you’ll be left alone again, wondering why he puts the extra effort in at all. Why he reels you in only to let you go, forcing you to question his intentions as you watch with careful eyes for those moments of reassurance. Moments that you can never prepare for. Ones that gnaw at your heart with pointed teeth wrapped beneath hungry lips, starving for the truth.

You’re not too sure you’re ready to take that leap yet. To push him for the answers you know he’ll just avoid. He’s never been quick to trust and even when he does allow you in there’s still a blockage of sorts. An obvious resistance that sits between you, forcing you to settle regardless of the fear you hold inside your chest, wondering what would happen if you tried to push.

You assume it’d ruin you. That, more than likely, pushing too hard would only create an even deeper wedge, making the truth that much more unattainable, leaving you with less than what you started with.

Shooting upwards, you groan again and breathe, resting your face against your open palms in irritation.

All you want to do is sleep, knowing the only reason you’re thinking so much is because you’re avoiding it. If you think you can’t drift which means the nightmares can’t come, leaving you with two bad endpoints you know you have to choose between.

It makes you want to scream just thinking about it but instead of giving in to such desires you merely settle back down, pulling the fabric of your bedroll up to your shoulders before closing your eyes.

You’re going to get some sleep whether or not it kills you. Whether or not you have to endure the pain of a thousand deaths all at once before you’re inevitably woken up in a stupor of suffering.

It doesn’t take long for you to drift. One minute you’re lying there, counting your breaths like sheep and the next you’re out, filtering through a darkness that feels all too familiar. At first, it’s just there, coating your skin in nothingness. Lost to the void of slumber, you’re at peace for the first time in forever but as expected eventually the shadows unfold. Part to reveal a body of pale skin wrapped around viscous veins full of the blood of many.

It beckons you almost immediately. The flutter of that icy voice saying your name over and over until you come to call, allowing yourself to move. Letting your feet guide you to her presence, you feel the waves and how they threaten to spill over as you kneel before her, feeling her grab your throat.

Her fingers twitch and curl but never grip as she leans forward, offering you a grin. “You’ve been avoidant.”

You don’t speak. For a moment your lips part, feeling the presence of her thumb glide across the base of your throat but you don’t dare speak.

“You know it’s coming, my dear. You can’t avoid it.”

Your tongue moves to wet your lips while you blink, trying your best to let the visions of her angular face blur into the night that surrounds you, realizing she looks just as you remember her. All papery and washed out —a mere shell of herself now that you’ve gone missing. Her features drying out with each passing day you find yourself separate.

“Come back to me. Let me protect you.”

You swallow hard and turn your head, feeling the nails of her fingers dig into your neck prompting you to cry out.

She doesn’t let you do much else. Quickly moving on from the one-sided conversation to grab her knife, you watch as she mumbles under her breath, turning the blade between her fingers with a grin. “In untimely death comes timely renewal, remember?” she says, letting it ghost across your bare chest, pushing the edge against it until it breaks the skin.

You barely feel the first insertion. As the blade dips through the layers of your flesh, the only thing you feel is her breath. The pattern of air that puffs against your face as she recites those aforementioned words, taunting you as she pulls it down.

In untimely death comes timely renewal. In untimely death comes timely renewal. In untimely death comes timely renewal…

As the knife moves lower, you repeat the words in unison like a mantra, struggling to get them out through gritted teeth as she works to cut you open. To slice your torso from the sternum down revealing countlessly re-healed bones and slimy organs that lie in waiting for her to pluck.

Hovering above you, her hands move to survey such handiwork, her fingers stroking the edges of your open skin before they inevitably dive right in, ripping you awake.

You feel the pressure of her inside your gut before it really hits that it’s done. Shooting upward, you cough and double over in an instant, pressing your hands shakily to the ground in front of you.

It’s the worst dream you’ve had yet. Longer than all the others, you can feel the adrenaline of it all penetrating your thoughts. Overthrowing every single anxiety you’ve ever felt as you sniff back tears, pushing yourself towards the entrance of your tent.

Pulling it open, you look around the camp in desperation, catching the eye of Wyll who raises his brow, watching as you shake your head, slipping further into the ground.

Before you can even think he’s on you, reaching for your shoulders, asking you what’s wrong and how he can help. In response, you make no effort to reach back. To remedy your pain as you continue to shake and cry, sobbing out the cursed mantra through heavy gasps that leave him panicking.

“Guys! Something’s wrong!”

As he calls out to the rest of the group, you quickly find yourself surrounded by familiar faces. All of them looking down to see your hysteria unfold.

“What happened?” Dropping to her knees, Shadowheart’s the first to your side, moving her hands to cup your face before you swat her away, mouthing the words over and over and over again.

“I don’t know!”

“You don’t know?”

The two of them continue to bicker. As Wyll explains the way you crawled out of your tent, mumbling something about death, you force yourself to shuffle back, maneuvering your body so that you’re half sitting inside your tent again, watching it all unfold. Focusing on the confusion as Lae’zel and Karlach stand in the wings, muttering to each other words you can’t quite hear while Gale stares down at your mouth, watching the words you speak only to yourself as your eyes start to dart around.

Surveying the rest of the camp, you wipe away your tears and try to breathe, forcing your mouth to stop its repetitions once you remember the ache inside your chest.

Because of the Illithid, you can still feel her handiwork. Beneath your sweaty tunic, you can sense its edges burning —stinging from the aftermath as you press a hand to your sternum, making sure you’re still intact. Making sure your organs aren’t on display as you catch sight of Astarion coming up the path.

He’s nose deep in a book when you see him, scanning the pages with interest before his eyes inevitably raise to see your nervous frame, curling into your tent. Then his interest fades. Evaporating into thin air before it’s replaced with fear. Genuine, heartbreaking fear that has him moving so quickly he fades out of view before reappearing in front of you.

“What happened?”

Just like Shadowheart, his hands cup your cheeks, gripping the plush as he lowers himself down, moving his forehead to yours.

Unlike before you make no effort to push him away. Instead, all you do is frown and try to suppress the tears, clawing at his shirt with desperate pleas, begging him to stay. Begging him to tell you that everything’s going to be okay. Begging for him to lie and say he’ll protect you just like you did for him.

Using your tadpole you beg him over and over again, letting the tears silently fall from your face, not caring that the whole party is watching.

All you need is him. In falseness or in truth, you don’t care. You just need him to ground you. To call you darling and to make you laugh. To make you feel like you’re something more than a vessel of organs one day destined for harvest.

As your chest begins to heave, letting all the nightmares unfold all over again, you feel the tadpole behind your eye squirm in response, asking you to let him in. Without hesitation, you close your eyes and swallow hard, feeling his thoughts start to overthrow the visions of her and her knives and the mantra that sticks haphazardly across your brain matter.

I’m here, you’re safe.

For once it feels like a promise. A silent vow meant only for you as he ushers you further into the tent, saying something to your peers before closing it up. After that he readjusts the bedroll with gentle hands, always keeping a single palm against the small of your back, even when he guides you to lie against his chest.

It’s the first time in weeks that you’ve felt safe. Resting a cheek just below his collarbone, you can feel your breath begin to return to its normal state. No longer ravaged by the panic of your dreams, it moves in and out, fanning the fabric of his shirt.

“Was it a nightmare?”

You nod. Unsure how to explain it because, while it is a nightmare, it somehow feels so much more.

“Of the past or?”

“Sort of.”

He hums curiously, glancing down to see your hand slide up his chest to grip his shirt.

“It feels like I’m answering a call.”

“A call?”

“Like there’s a person trying to reach me and when I answer I can… I can feel them.”

“Feel them?”

You can tell he doesn’t quite understand. Not that you blame him for it. The whole concept of these nightmares still vexs even yourself. Leave you stumbling in confusion each night you find yourself awake, struggling to remember what’s real and what’s not.

The nightmares are not as easily explainable as the actual torture you’ve endured. Especially considering that up until now there had been periods where the memories had died. Days where her face was nothing more than a splotch of white against a backdrop of black, slowly fading away.

It doesn’t make sense why they're suddenly returning. Why your mind is forcing you to relieve these memories night after night.

“Does your tadpole make it hard for you to dream?”

There's no hesitation when he says yes. No moment thought before his answer, making you wonder if maybe he too is experiencing these dreams.

“I feel like it amplifies everything.”

Looking up to gauge his response, you can see the worry clouding his eyes. How his expression sort of fades into the abyss as his eyes focus on yours.

“I dream of the past a lot. Of my life before this and… and I can feel it. Everything that ever happened I can feel all over again and it’s—“

“Painful.” His voice is broken. A crack in the mirror, shattering the often joyous image of his face as he looks away, blinking.

Without even processing your movements you prop yourself up on your elbow, reaching over to grab his cheek and pull him back in. “I wish you didn’t understand how it felt.”

There’s a flicker of hurt that hits his face, enveloping his features before the previous sadness kicks in again and he’s reaching for your wrist, tightening around it. “Yes, well, not all of us get the luck of the draw when it comes to good lives.”

“You should’ve,” you tell him.

He scoffs and closes his eyes, a faint smile pulling at his lips. “You’re probably the only one that thinks that.”

You let your thumb explore his cheek. Let it move in soft circles, taking in the way it shifts beneath your touch.

It feels strange to be this close to him even after all of the other intimate moments you’ve shared. Something about it feels softer, more honest than the rest of them, making your heart beat rapidly against your chest, threatening to burst.

“I know it’s not my business but if you ever want to talk about it—“

He places a kiss to your hand, letting his lips linger against the pad of your thumb as he closes his eyes, reaching around to grip your waist.

In an instant, the words drift out of your mind once you feel it; lost to a touch you didn’t realize you longed for.

Swallowing hard you lay back down to look away, feeling a bit overwhelmed at the tender image that unfolds as his arm shifts again, accommodating your movement. Making you feel that rush of comfort return as he pulls his mouth away and clears his throat.

“I’m, uh… I’m not good at this kind of thing.”

“Vulnerability?” you joke, earning yourself a snort.

“I suppose that’s a word you can use.”

“To be fair, neither am I.”

You feel him shift to meet your gaze, looking at you with surprise. “Really now? I think breaking down in front of the whole camp just so that you can find me is quite the effort of—“

Before he can finish you clamp your hand around his mouth. “I was in shock, you bastard. I wasn’t thinking about my dignity.”

Flexing around your palm, you feel him smile before he pulls away. “That’s good because there was absolutely nothing dignified about the way you looked at me back there. It was…” He trails off, his words catching in his throat for a moment before he clears it again. “You scared me.”

There’s a moment of silence after that, lasting far longer for it to be deemed comfortable as you lay there, wide awake, wishing you could get him to talk to you. Hoping that maybe if you reach out with the Illithid he’ll answer your questions.

Closing your eyes, you feel his presence in your mind already, vying for your attention in a way that has you both moving in closer, tightening your hold.

Show me the dream.

It isn’t a question or a request but a simple command that has you obeying —letting him enter your thoughts. Letting him stand along the sidelines as she guides you to the ground and cuts you open all over again. Letting him listen to the recital of words that are spoken behind two frozen expressions as Astarion pulls you tighter against him, placing his mouth to your forehead to stop himself from crying.

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#painful vulnerabilities #astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion fan fic #astarion series #astarion x female reader #astarion x reader #astarion x you #summer writes

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hunnylagoon · 9 months ago

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Take Me to War

PT2 Metaphor

Streamer! Ellie Williams x reader

Where do I pour my love if you take away my pen and paper?

Premise: You are starting to like your annoyingly loud neighbour more than you want to admit.

PT1 Here!

Warnings: Raunchy humour

The gym was busy on this particular day, I absentmindedly judged others for being at the gym at noon on a Saturday like they should have been doing something more interesting with their time until I realized I was at the gym at noon on a Saturday with no other plans for the rest of the day "And she's hot?" Abby asks me while she effortlessly benches something around 170 and I do nothing more than lean on the wall behind her.

"She's hot," I answer, scrolling through her feed on Instagram like the weird little stalker I was. I hadn't gone full FBI, just looked her up and possibly watched some of her videos "It's kind of cool that I have an internet celebrity living next to me."

"Define cool," Abby props the bar back onto the saddles of the machine and sits up, taking a chug from her water bottle.

"She is cool," I defend "It's not that weird Minecraft roleplay that your grimy cousins watch, it's just like video games and vlogs, that kind of stuff."

Abby looks back at me, sweat drips from her blonde hairline and rests above her brow "How is that even a career?"

I shrug in response "Sponsorships and donations and shit."

"Why do people throw so much money at streamers?"

"Parasocial relationships, I wrote an article about it last year which you said you read."

She sucks a sharp breath through her teeth "You were writing a lot of articles, hard to keep up with."

"Define a lot," I mock Abby's words. I glance at a guy in between the rows of gleaming machines, their metallic frames reflecting the obnoxious glow overhead. He had been using the leg press upside down, his neck hunched over into an almost horrifying posture, his shoulders pressing against the top plate. It might've been the most normal thing I've seen in New York.

"So are you going to ask her out?"

I wrinkle my nose, thinking about it "I met her last week, I just don't think I know her that well." Within the past week that I've met her, I've been crawling out to the fire escape every morning just so her drowsy eyes could peer into my vacant skull and in recent months I had given up on dating, like a spider, I devoured my own heart.

"That's kind of the point of dating," She lays back down on the bench press "Getting to know each other."

"I think I'm too busy to date," I tuck my phone into my pocket, crossing my arms while I watch Abby. I wasn't entirely sure that I was too busy to date but I tended to consume myself entirely and make everything far more complicated than it needed to be. I still perform autopsies on conversations I've had years ago, clinging to every word like I need them to survive.

"Why don't you wanna be happy?" She asks, furrowing her eyebrows "You're always getting in your own way, is it a tortured poet type of thing?"

My breath hitches in my throat. How I hate when she's right. The last serious relationship I had was in college and even then I had sabotaged myself, I didn't know where it came from other than a nagging feeling that I wasn't deserving of the love that had been offered up to me on a shining silver platter. "I do I'm-

"Just not ready?" Abby cuts me off, finishing my sentence so perfectly as if it had been words on a script for some boring play about a woman who hates her life and won't do anything about it.

"Yeah," I say, my voice is quiet, she's got me in a box here.

"If you're not ready to date, you might as well be friends with her," She puts the bar back onto the saddles but this time, stands up after completing her reps. "You need to get out and it seems like you get along well."

"I guess," I say and Abby raises an eyebrow "No, you're right, I need to dig myself out of the grave I've dug for myself." What added to my overly apathetic mood was the season, I was so sick of February. It felt like winter had forced mold to grow on my bones to way me down onto the dirty city pavement where careless New Yorkers would gladly stomp over my body.

"How's it going with the family?" Abby is writing something down in her notes which I assume is her number of sets and reps.

"Nothing new," I answer.

She peers at me over her phone, digging for a more solid answer "Are you still sending your parents money?"

"Yes-

"Why?" Her arms dropped to her side, her phone still in one hand "You shouldn't have to play caretaker for two people who don't care about you," As true as it was, it didn't hurt any less to hear it out of my best friend's mouth.

"It's easier said than done, those are my parents," I'm almost overtaken by a delicate drowsiness from the thoughts of leaving behind the one connection I had to my small-town life. My parents were so careless that I would run around barefoot on the road with the neighbour's kids for hours, narrowly dodging cars that flew past us like it had been a game; everything was a game back then, when I came home to my father's drunkenness, I could hide away in the treehouse and read Harry Potter until the screaming came to a stop.

I was bonded to them like I was to the stray cats who raised me. There was no getting rid of them, we ricocheted between hatred and love like the game of catch I never got to play.

"I'm sorry," She says though I know it is ingenuine "I shouldn't get in between your family."

Abby didn't know them the same way I did. All she knew was the bloodiness of the relationship that I had cried into her arms, she didn't know how kind the wolves were after they tore me apart. The way my father would cheer for me the loudest at my soccer games and how my mother baked for me after a fight, wasn't the apology that I yearned for but the one that was shoved down my throat.

I dug through my brain to search for a way to change the topic "I saw Owen at the market yesterday and he said he wanted you to call him."

"You're fucking kidding."

My deadline had passed with no issue and I was finally blessing myself with a day where I wasn't chained to my desk. I could finally let my poor bloodshot eyes rest and for once I didn't have to drown them in eyedrops.

I was freshly out of the shower when I heard a knock at my door, Margot yelling at me to answer it. I slipped into a matching pyjama set that Abby gave me on my birthday, hurrying as fast as I could to the door. Margot's consistent screaming did nothing to aid this.

Ellie was the last person I expected to see on the other side of the door but there she was. I couldn't help the smile that cracked onto my face "Am I the one being loud now?"

She grins at me "No-it's just that my chat has been begging for you to come back all week and I was wondering if you maybe wanted to do a stream with me?"

I looked down at what I was wearing and suddenly felt like the scrouge, all I was missing was a nightcap and a taper candle. "Can I change first?"

"Go ahead but I think this is one of your best looks."

"Really?" I raise an eyebrow "You have poor judgement since you've never seen me in anything other than pyjamas."

"We should probably fix that then."

"I guess we should." I smile. I decided against changing, it wasn't like I was going out, just heading to my friend's apartment that was three feet away.

"Say as much or as little as you want," She opens the door to let me in "I owe you big time," Ellie says this like I don't want excuses to spend time for her. Like I haven't been freezing my ass off every day just to talk to her when she watches the city wake up as she prepares to rest her head.

Ellie's apartment is more lively than the last time I visited, she's adapted some plants that are already beginning to wilt "Have these been getting any sunlight?"

She furrows her eyebrows "No? They're fake."

"Ellie," I stifle a laugh "I'm like ninety percent sure that fake plants don't wilt."

"Nuh-uh," She walks toward one just rubs its wilting leaf between her thumb and index, it begins to crumble in her hand and she sucks a sharp breath through her teeth "I guess they are real," Ellie pokes a finger into the bone dry soil and wipes the dirt onto her pants "How much do you know about plants?"

"I'm going to go out on a limb and guess more than you."

She nods "Sounds about right," Ellie walks over to her sink to fill a Game of Thrones mug with water before circling back to water her plants "Drink up little buddies."

"looks like you need some sunlight too," I watch her attempt to revive the dying plants and

"Yeah," She keeps hyper-focused on the plants but she cracks a small grin, I could've sworn her smile burnt down the library of Alexandria "I think I'm turning into a vampire."

"The sparkly kind?"

Ellie shakes her head as she stands back up to put the mug on the kitchen island "Like the guy from Sesame Street."

I wrinkle my nose "Yeah, you're looking kind of purple."

"Damn, I was worried you would notice," She smiles again as she opens the door to her office, the purple LED lights are still running but the overhead light is turned on and washes away the colour.

The second I step into the room, Ellie rushes ahead of me and almost jumps to grab the folding chair. She sits herself down and pats her fancy gaming chair for me to sit in it. "Guys, she came!"

I stare at her, eyes wide, jaw slack. "Ellie."

"What?"

"Do you hear yourself?"

She takes a minute to think about it before nodding her head, I could see the exact moment it clicked "No, I hear it," She addresses the camera "Not like that guys but I don't know what she did with her day, not our business though."

Ellie looks at me like she's waiting for approval of her chosen words. After a moment's reflection, I answer dryly "Thanks."

"Sorry for taking so long, I had to water some plants," She watches the chat bar scroll by, squinting before she leans back in her chair, hand running through her hair "No, that's not code for sex."

"Could be," I shrug.

"They wanna know what your name is."

"Top secret."

"Okay," She reads some more comments from the chat "Can you tell them what you do for work?"

"I'm a ghostwriter," I say, giving a little thumbs up. I saw myself in the monitor and wanted to throw my hands at myself for being so awkward.

"Spooky," Ellie smiles "She writes about people instead of interacting with them, that's why she's socially inept." She reaches for her soundboard and presses a button, sounding a prerecorded effect of a crowd cheering and laughing.

"She's never had a girl in her apartment, that's why she can't flirt." I counter as she throws her hands up, I can tell she's about to retort with something before I cut her off "So what were you doing before you kidnapped me?"

"Guys, I didn't kidnap her, she willingly walked in here without the use of excessive force and I have had many a girl in this apartment," Ellie tells the chat before clicking something on her screen "So, they send in videos and we have to not laugh, which isn't hard because they aren't very funny."

"You're not funny either but they watch you," I tease, Ellie fights a smile trying to uphold our image of back and-forth pocking and prodding at one another.

"Laugh three times and you're out."

"Of the apartment?"

"No, you just laugh three times and you lose."

"What do I get if I don't lose?"

"Fuck, I dunno," She furrows her eyebrows, searching the room for something. Her eyes land on a small silver tin, she snatches it up into the palm of her pale hand and sits back down "You get my dill dough."

"I'm sorry!?" My head snaps to look at her "Are you sure you aren't a cam girl?"

"No," She pauses "No, I mean no it's not what you think, yes," Ellie backtracks again "I mean I am sure I'm not a cam girl, not that that I'm not sure I'm not a cam girl, because I'm not," She looks like she's sure of what she said like it made perfect sense "Not a cam girl."

"You're not-not a cam girl?" I ask, pointing out the double negative "So you are a cam girl?"

"No," Ellie runs a hand down her face "Can you guys please tell her that I'm not a cam girl?"

Dcknb4llz:She's a cam girl

Nataliadepressed:I just subbed to her only fans!

Mclovin_fury26:She just wants to show you her dill dough 😕

Yayayalorde:I wish she was a cam girl

The3nd_isn3ar:Ellie pls stop joking about it and become a cam girl already 🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏

Ewmarryme:hahaha Ellie ur so funny now get serious and make an onlyfans

"Anyways," Ellie ignores the chat as they clearly aren't helping her case "This is my dill dough," She shows me the small tin she picked up, there's a picture of a pickle on the front. Over the translucent lid, it surely enough says 'Dill Dough! pickle scented'. It was just green silly putty with an oddly incredulous name.

"I weirdly want that," I answer.

"If you win, it's yours." She tucks it away into the pocket of her sweatpants "Mods, let's get this moving."

We sit through about fifteen minutes of videos; mainly people getting hurt, occasionally one of some type of animal. Nothing funny enough to make either of us laugh except for one of a man falling through a glass table which gets a little chuckle out of Ellie who denies it.

Another video began playing, it was Ellie in this exact spot, screaming during a game of Fortnite. It looks like it's from the first time she showed me her odd job choice. In the distance, you can hear a knock on the door and this is when I'm sure it's from the day I had been thinking of. Ellie pulls her headphones off and looks at her camera "Shit, I think that's my hot neighbour again."

I slap a hand over my mouth and turn to see Ellie who's looking disappointed at her chat, shaking her head at the camera. "Whoever sent that is fake as fuck."

"So you think I'm hot?"

"Pfft, no, dude, you're ugly as fuck," Ellie makes an overexaggerated confused face like she has no idea what I'm talking about "I was talking about my other neighbour."

Kaylnncourting:Ellie y r u fumbling so bad???????

Overdam00n:You guys were right for saying she doesn't get 🐱🐱🐱🐱

Sestwouth:bruh she's ruining it for herself

Connerstollit:WHY DID SHE SAY THAT

Cruel_summer:What is wrong with Ellie? Genuinely

F0gg4t:If El doesn't want her, I do

Aliinnnnnaaaaa:First girl she's ever met and she's ruining it

Randelwthehandle:Ugly as fuck??????? who says that 😭😭

Dcknb4llz:wow nice cover up Ellie

Marie_739:Bro Im gonna start calling the girls I like ugly as fuck

"Mr. Quigley?" I ask to which Ellie nods immediately "You think the eighty-seven-year-old veteran who is missing a foot and has swallowed four of his teeth is hot?"

"Yeah," She says, immediately regretting the hole she was digging herself into "I have a thing for older men."

"I don't think you have a thing for men at all, actually."

Her eyes go wide, Ellie opens her mouth to say something and she leans forward in her chair so fast that she falls out and smacks her head on the desk, folding over and onto the ground. I have the biggest smile on my face as I reach for her soundboard and press the cheering crowd effect. I'm laughing too hard to offer her help, clutching my stomach and keeling over so my head is out of frame. Ellie gets up, and puts herself back in the folding chair pointing at the camera "Do not clip that."

Almost seconds after she says that a video gets sent in of her smacking her head on the desk in slow motion while I burst out laughing and now I'm cackling even harder. You can even hear her yelp in slow motion and she sounds like the dinosaurs from Jurassic Park "You guys are way funnier than Ellie," I say, addressing whoever was watching the stream.

Another video pops on the screen right after the last one ends, it's Ellie again. She screams at something on her computer and you can hear me bang on the wall on the other side. Ellie goes quiet immediately going back to her game and muttering "She's so hot guys."

"I think my mods hate me," Ellie shakes her head.

"Thank you mods!" I smile at the camera.

A little clip of Ellie back at her desk pops up, she's wearing a Garfield shirt. This time she isn't playing anything, she just sits in front of the camera with that familiar lopsided smile "Guys, how do I trick my neighbour into going out with me?"

There's another video, it's a longer one with the caption 'Ellie Williams calling her neighbour hot compilation' Ellie's eyes go wide and she clicks off the video immediately, the camera goes to us full screen. "That's enough of that."

I pull my phone out and type in the caption of the unfinished video into YouTube, it comes up right away and I click on it. Ellie clicks around on her computer, unaware of my viewing until she hears her voice, echoing in low quality from my phone. She reaches for my phone but I pull it closer to myself.

I'm dead set on finishing the video until something on the other side of the door, catches my eye. It rushes past the small crack in the slightly ajar door and instinctively, I drop my phone with a slight jolt "What the fuck is that?"

Ellie takes this opportunity to snatch my phone and place it face down on the desk, out of my reach. "That's just Kitty." She pushes herself out of the folding chair and steps out of the room. She walks back in carrying what looks to be a mound of cotton balls, looking a little closer, I realize it's a rabbit. He looks more fluff than flesh.

"What the fuck," My mouth falls open in awe "Can I hold it?" She places him in my lap "He just walks around your apartment?"

She nods "He's litter trained so he just kinda hangs out."

I pet him, he's soft as a million feathers, and he looks like a mascot for a paper towel company "You are the only person I know that would name their bunny Kitty."

Ellie tries to wipe off the mass amounts of rabbit fur on her, it seems the more she tries to get it off, the more firmly it refuses to budge. "This is a good time to show you guys this new shirt that Dina ordered for me," Ellie stands up walking off camera. She has a couple of Amazon boxes stacked on her couch, she reaches into one of them and pulls out a T-shirt. Ellie turns towards the wall so her back is facing me, she pulls her hoodie off over her head.

All I can see is the back of her sports bra but I force my eyes to go wide "Guys, Ellie Williams has a tramp stamp that says cum dumpster," I lie and the chat goes wild and I grab my phone off her desk as she turns around in her Five Nights at Freddie's tee with a 'Seriously?' face. I take a picture of her with the flash on "I'll sell this rare image of Ellie for six hundred dollars on eBay."

Ellie walks back over to the desk with a stack of Amazon boxes "Every donation goes toward my tattoo removal," She jokes, digging around in the boxes. "I'm a little over your videos, you bunch of snitches so I think it's about time I finally open these up."

I look in the boxes too, leaning over slightly, being very careful of Kitty where he sits in my lap. I see something and pull it out to hand to Ellie "You should try this one."

"World's hottest gummy bear," She reads the package "Why is there only one? What if I want another?" Ellie yanks the gummy bear, squishing it between her fingers. It looks like Red-40 personified.

Melanie_felony:She's setting her up lmao

Dcknb4llz:Nobody say anything pls I rlly wanna see this

Elliewsidechick:YALL SHES TOO WHITE FOR THIS STOP

She eats the gummy bear in one bite. As she begins to chew it, she seems absolutely unfazed and partially confused about why it was labelled 'World's Hottest Gummy Bear' A moment later she begins to cough, balling her hand up into a fist and pounding on her chest. Ellie's little cough quickly turns into a deep wheeze.

Ellie lets out a scream, her face going red as she slams her hand onto her desk with watering eyes. I could see visible sweat on her face as she dry heaved, it only took thirty seconds until she sprinted out of the room.

"Oh my god," I watch her run out of the room while I give Kitty a little pet between his ears, he's so still I almost think he's taxidermy. "Guys, I think we killed her." You can hear her vaguely screaming and gagging from the kitchen "So what did everyone do today?"

Thelastgreatamericandynasty:wrote a fanfic about you and Ellie

Dcknb4llz:I got jumped at waffle house

"Yikes, sorry to hear that." I suck a breath through my teeth "Tell me what I should know about Ellie." Her name feels so right on my tongue.

Jesse_chang:She's a virgin

D4aughter_:OMG HI JESSE

A_birthday_card:The only s3x she's ever had was in Minecraft

Whathasshegot:She has a crush on you

Touching_theyouth:She's lactose intolerant

Dcknb4llz:She sold me ketamine in an ally

Gusty_queefqueen:She homophonic

Torxhmydreams2:Pretty sure that’s two words that have the same pronunciation but different meaning

Gusty_queefqueen:Bruh it means she doesn’t like gay people

Heytheredelilah7:She has a boyfriend

When Ellie comes back she's filled her Game of Thrones mug with milk and has a bag of shredded mozzarella cheese. She reads the chat "Can you guys be cool for once?"

"They're cooler than you."

"Very funny," Ellie eats a handful of mozzarella before she digs back in the boxes "What's next?" There's one box huge envelope that looks like it has a slip of cardboard in it. Ellie tears the corner open with her teeth and rips the rest of the top off with her hands. She pulls the content out of it, throwing the envelope over the computer for it to land on the ground. Just as suspected there was cardboard in it, not just a slip but it unfolded into a cardboard cut out of Ellie, she looked to be a younger teenager in it, giving an awkward little peace sign and showing her green braces off with a huge smile.

"Aww, you actually look cute in that."

She disregards me "Chat, interrogate Dina about this and report back."

"Dina?" I ask "Is that your girlfriend?"

"Nah," Ellie props up the cardboard cut-out and places it behind us, right in the middle to watch over us "She's my enemy as of right now."

"What did she do?"

"Send this shit," She eats some more mozzarella, holding the bag out to offer me some, to which I decline. Ellie shrugs it off and eats another handful, washing it down with a long chug of milk and putting it on the desk. She grabs a t-shirt, he eyes go wide and she pushes it against her chest so I can't see. "Are you ready?"

"Yes, ma'am," I watch a smile spread across her face as she turns the shirt around to show me a graphic of her on it. In the picture, her face is close up to the camera covered in a white powder (presumably flour). "Oh, wow!" I feign shock.

"I know!" She holds it out toward me "It's yours, you deserve it."

"Wow," I draw the word out, taking the shirt from Ellie "This is really great, I was always hoping I would get a shirt of you covered in flour." Sarcasm drips from tone but I accept the gift regardless.

"I know!" Ellie grins brightly "You should put it on now."

"That's fine, I think I'll save it for our date," I tease.

She perks up just the slightest "Ooo, when's that?"

"The second this stream ends."

"On that note," Ellie looks at the camera "Thank you guys for hopping on tonight and thank you to my neighbour who came here without putting up a fuss," Ellie clicks around on the screen a little bit before addressing them again "Alright, go bug Dina now."

With that the stream comes to a close, the blinking light on the camera turns off, and Ellie and I are left alone with ourselves and Kitty.

“So,” Ellie thumps her foot up and down repeatedly like those anxious kids in high school. “Do you maybe wanna get coffee tomorrow?”

“I don’t drink coffee but I’ll pretend to so I have an excuse to hangout with you.”

A smile splits onto Ellie’s face “Phew, I hate coffee I just thought it was an adult way to ask you out.”

A/N: This is super short but I’ll make up for it in the next part, thanks for reading! We got some angst on the way 👀

Perm tag-list: @veeveeisgay @whenlostinthedarkness @gold-dustwomxn @ellslvr

Series tag-list: @diddiqueen @camillecrellin @fullmachinegirl @eveshyper @lmaoo-spiderman @camicocom1a @elliessweetheart @melanie-watermelon @lanafresitas

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mr2swap · 1 year ago

Text

I'm going to stay like Jeremy

-What the fuck is wrong with me?! - I looked down at my big cock now flaccid, I assumed that I would finally lose my virginity at last tonight, but why doesn't it want to work?, I closed my eyes and began to imagine Violet the naked girl who was in the other room, Violet Anderson, the sexiest girl in all of high school, found herself willing to have sex with me, or well at least with my best friend Jeremy.

Jeremy is my best friend, the person to whom I can tell anything, and the biggest stud in all of high school, when I told him that I had a lot of problems losing my virginity, he did not hesitate to help me, we are so confident that I do not hesitate to give me a solution to my problem, swap our bodies.

He found a spell on the internet that when said at the same time by two people would make them switch bodies, so one day after school we went to my house when my mother was at work and in my room we both began to say in unison the strange words of a language that I had never heard. our bodies began to transform.

I continued speaking in that strange language while looking at Jeremy's face, slowly his face became mine as well as the rest of his body and when he finished saying the last sentence in front of me there is an exact copy of my body, look down Jeremy's new look, my Asian features, short stature, even longer messy hair were transferred to him, as was his strong jaw, long legs and thick arms full of protruding veins were transferred to me.

-DUDE! this shit if it worked! you look exactly like me!-he looked up at me surprised to see what the rest of us saw in him, a gigantic muscle, her clothes were too big for her now, while mine was squeezing me a little. -Dude, is that how I sound? - I also said testing Jeremy's voice, I could feel how slowly my tank top was ripping, before it completely ripped I took it off, throwing the stretched piece of clothing into a pile of dirty clothes, although I should probably throw it away in the trash when I return to my body.

Jeremy and I had swapped bodies. We took off our clothes, it was fucking strange to see my body from Jeremy's perspective, my body was quite average, somewhat plump, but I didn't look bad, maybe he was right, and I just need more confidence, now I felt better than I ever felt. Stronger, taller, more hot.

I suddenly felt full of energy, every movement in Jeremy's body was so strong and felt so fast that it was difficult to walk with my powerful legs, we both looked at each other in the mirror that was in front of my room and while Jeremy examined his face With his hands I couldn't avoid doing a push-up with my magnificent biceps - Jesus Christ! a couple of inches more and they are the size of your head! - I said putting one of my mountains next to my old head just to compare the sizes.

Jeremy took off his old shirt that was now too big for him and tossed it to me, his shorts fell off on their own, leaving him in just a pair of boxers that were too big for his new body. We were both fully dressed, we came to an agreement. We would change again after I lost my virginity in his body from him, and he had a little fun with some girl to test how it feels to lose my virginity in my body.

Take his things, the keys to his house, his phone and leave him alone at my house to get used to a bit, I was anxious so, so I wasted no minute and unlocked Jeremy's phone to look at his contact list and to my surprise had been texting Violet the sexiest and most popular girl in high school.

He had only spent 20 minutes in Jeremy's handsome body, and he had already found someone to fuck, Flirting when you are taller, muscular and handsome was really simple … but why DOES NOT GET A FUCKING INCH GET UP THIS DICK?

Everything was going so well until we got to the motel, and she started undressing, when I realized that my little friend was not in the mood to get up at all, I pretended to have diarrhea and ran to the hotel bathroom while the hot girl stayed waiting for me in the bed, all the stress began to affect me and my body began to sweat and get hot from humiliation

-What's wrong with me? - I looked in the mirror, it was the face of my best friend Jeremy, now he was handsome, now he was attractive, now he had huge muscles, now he had a huge cock, why? …

Without realizing it now I had a huge erection as I looked at Jeremy's body, I wanted to stop, go to the side room and fuck the girl who was there, but I couldn't. Flex one of my arms, just to be able to look at him, I put my other hand to my cock and I began to stimulate my cock, I looked at my sweaty armpit and I could not resist dipping my nose into the sweaty dregs of Jeremy, they were so smooth my tongue didn't feel a trace of scratchiness because he used to shave completely for amateur bodybuilding competitions.

It didn't take too long to ejaculate. I was very excited by all the new sensations. I had never felt so good in my whole life even though I just masturbated was the best thing I had ever tried, I fixed my gaze on the mess I had made in the bathroom and at that moment I finally realized -I am… .gay ? - I didn't know what it meant to be gay, but I was sure of one thing. I can't give it back now that I know there's something better than having sex with a hot girl is having sex with your best friend's hot body and loving it properly.

I can't give him back his body from him now that I'm experiencing so much pleasure. I refuse to give up this body and this life, I do n't know how Jeremy will take it but if I can keep his body from him I do n't care, I just hope Jeremy is enjoying being straight, maybe he might like it almost as much as me

Hey folks! if you like bodyswap stories take a look at my Ko-fi, I have a lot of more stories, and you can help me keep creating more stories!

#body swap #male body swap #bodyswap #body switch #male transformation

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lynk-zee · 7 months ago

Note

hey lynkzee!

you know how in Exclusive Tutorial (mild spoiler) Zayne says "provocation doesn't work on me?" What if the reader takes that very personal, as a challenge.... Doesn't have to be within that card's context either.

Provocation

Spicy but marked NSFW to be safe!

It had been bothering you for months. Ever since the exclusive tutorial Zayne gave you at the billiards table, you couldn’t get his stupid words out of your head.

“Provocation doesn’t work on me.”

By who? Was that a challenge? This sentence kept repeating itself over and over in your head, even as you sleep. Did he really think you weren’t sexy enough to be persuaded?

Maybe sexiness wasn’t the issue. Zayne clearly loves your body. He wouldn’t be fucking you every day if he didn’t. Maybe it was the fact that he wouldn’t break…Even if it was you. Maybe that’s what bothered you.

So, you made it your mission tonight. Provocation doesn’t work on him? So you’ll make him beg. Tonight he has another dinner party with his co-workers at a luxury club. This time, you were going all out.

Red fabric dripped off your skin in sultry waves. You were the sexiest you’ve ever been, you felt like a sensual deity. When you opened the door for Zayne who was going to pick you up for the party, he stopped dead in his tracks when he saw you. His face blanked, a hot flush filling his cheeks.

“You like?” You did an innocent twirl for him, your scent wafting into his flared nostrils. Was that a new perfume? And— god, the oil you glazed your skin with smelt like honey. You countenance was downright sexual. He felt like he could barely breathe in your presence.

“You’re gorgeous…” He murmured. You fought down a smirk as his hands drifted up your forearm in light grazes. Your skin against his was magnetic. And there was faint music in the background he could discern. Was that to set the mood? He cleared his throat. “We should go…”

You pout, your tantalizing red lips making him lick his own as his throat dried. You fluttered your butterfly eyelashes. “I don’t want to anymore…”

It was only then he realized the room was dimly lit by candles, red petals scattered on the floor. He swallowed thickly. “Were those the roses I bought for you last week…”

“Yes…They were wilting…I wanted to repurpose them for something better…”

At that point he knew it was a trap. But he couldn’t help but be drawn in.

You hummed. Everything was set up perfectly. Dimmed lighting, sensual music, a romantic atmosphere. And you, the grand feast. You pouted up at him again and whispered, “I don’t want to go anymore…”

Zayne’s lips parted as he sucked in a breath, the surrounding atmosphere blurring until he could only see you, your pouty lips, and your salacious outfit. Your voice oozed sex as you whined how badly you wanted to stay home. With him. His icy demeanor started cracking under the heat.

You stepped closer, making him gulp audibly. With a dainty hand, you smoothed out the expensive fabric of his tailored vest, your fingers making their way up to graze his neck. “The party will be so boringgg…” You whine softly, your desperate voice turning his ears pink. You caressed his jaw. “You’d have so much more fun here…With me…Come on, I’ll show you where the rest of the rose petals are.”

He gripped your hand, trying to steady himself through the dizzying lust. Zayne closed his eyes to regain his composure and he looked at you. “The others are waiting…”

“But I’m here right now…” You pressed closer, chest to chest as you leaned your head against his shoulder. “I’m here…” You whispered. “I’m much more interesting than your co-workers…”

“You are..” He gritted out. Zayne tried to ignore how dangerously close your hands were to his hips, tracing circles. “Come. We made a promise.”

“You made a promise to me…To show me you love me, that you want me with every fiber of your being, until the end of time…” You bit your lip, fluttering your eyelashes at him with doe eyes. “Isn’t that more important…” You pull him down by his necktie as you lean up, whispering hotly into his ear. “…Sir?”

At that moment, he kicked your front door shut and threw you over his shoulder to head to the bedroom. You silently cheered, but your celebration was cut short by a slap to the ass.

Turns out provocation does work on Zayne.

#🌙l&ds #⭐️l&ds #love & deepsace x reader #zayne lnd #zayne l&ds #zayne lads #zayne love and deepspace #zayne x reader

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all2angels · 1 year ago

Text

BURIED MYSELF ALIVE | basement!gerard x reader

warnings: this is kinda intense don't read if sensitive, NSFW!!, exaggerated writing, kinda cringe but it's meant to be like that, gerard is sooo gross and pathetic, i've never written a bj scene before please be kind 🙏 probably a lot of grammar and spelling mistakes because i could not bring myself to proofread im sorry

this was the last place you wanted to be in, like, this was genuinely a fucking hellhole.

when you walked in, the smell was almost rancid. his room was filled with trash, half-eaten chips, mountains of unwashed laundry, socks that had something in it that you didn't want to think about.

he offered for you to sit on his bed, you didn't want to, but it seemed like a better option than the floor, so you sat on the edge of bed.

you hated yourself for having the slightest bit of empathy, then maybe you wouldn't be in this place. gerard had asked you if you wanted to watch a horror movie at his place after you bonded over the topic one day, and you said yes, but have been putting it off for about three weeks.

all of your friends told you to cancel on it, they said that gerard wss a gross pervert freak and that you wouldn't want anything to do with him, but whenever he'd asked you if you still wanted to watch a movie with him he'd look so pathetic and desperate, you didn't have the heart to say no. but you wished you declined it.

gerard was walking all over the place, with a panicked look and rummaging through his stuff. you thought he was probably looking for the cd that had the movie. you wondered how he could find anything in this place. while he was looking, you looked over at his bedside table, seeing dirty magazines. you let out a scoff. couldn't he have at least hidden those before i came over?

"please don't be mad.." he says, his voice filled with guilt, "i know you've- we've waited for weeks, but i can't find my CDs." he takes a seat next to you, and you hold your breath. he stared at you, you didn't know what to do or say, he was just staring awkwardly.

"it's... fine? i guess..." you said, unsettled by the way he looked at you. you swear that he almost leaned in, and you were trying to prevent anything like that from happening. his eyes was filled with infatuation, and yours was filled with absolute disgust. the way he looked at you made you feel dirty. he was so fucking pathetic, but it was kinda hot how much he seemed to like you, how much he seemed like he wanted to please you.

you turned away from him out of pure embarrassment that you thought in the slightest bit that gerard 'pervert' way was attractive or hot, but you couldn't help it. you decided that the only way to stop these thoughts was to get the fuck away from here.

"hey, i should go..." you spoke up, standing up from the spot in his bed you were sitting in. you waited for him to say something, but he just looked at you and frowned. he looked like he was about to cry. jesus fucking christ you could throw up right now.

"gerard...? are you okay?" you sigh, sitting back down. you couldn't leave him like this. you hesitate, but you put your hand on his back, comforting him. you didn't want to ask, you wanted to get out, "what's wrong?" you say through gritted teeth.

"i'm really lonely, y/n, please don't go." he rests his head on your shoulder. he starts to ramble on about something, and you tune out his voice. the more he talked, the more you started to be impatient.

"you're so fucking pathetic..." you said. out loud. fuck. your eyes widened, realizing that he had heard it. he lifted his head, but the had his gross hand on your thigh. you were going to apologize, but the way that he looked shocked made you want to rage.

"are you serious?" you snap, he looks confused and hurt. "you couldn't possibly think you had a chance, c'mon dude. you're so- i mean, you're a freak."

"i jus', uhm, i-i like you—" before he could even finish his sentence you laughed at him. no fucking way. you turned to him again, and seeing his eyes, you knew he was genuine. his eyes were red from crying, and his cheeks flushed.

"you're so fucking pathetic, gerard. shouldn't come across as a surprise, i don't like you back." you say, standing up to leave, but before you can he reaches for your hand. his hand was calloused, it was rough.

"please-" he begs, "please, listen— i promise you..." he doesn't know what to say, but he wants you to stay so bad. "I'll do anything for you. I'll do anything."

"no! stop it, okay? i. don't. like. you. get that shit through your head. i don't even want to be your friend, okay, you-" he cuts you off this time with a kiss. he tastes horrible, but you don't stop it. fuck it, you think. you liked the kiss.

he breaks the kiss, and you could feel his hard dick on your thigh, his face is close to yours. "give me a chance, please..." he says.

you sighed and pushed him onto his messy bed, making him sit on the end of the bed and going on your knees in front of him. you start to unbuckle his belt, then you undo his zipper. you could hear him whimper. you take out his dick, a little part of you at least expected him to have a big dick, but he doesn't. the size was fine, not like it was too small. it wasn't trimmed, and the smell was somehow stronger than other dude's dicks. you try not to think about it too much and hold your breath.

you tease the tip, licking off the precum which tastes sweet and bitter. you swirled your tongue around his tip, and feel him twitch. "fuck..." he moans. you feel his hands on your hair, petting you softly, it felt awkward though, you just brushed past it.

you give his dick a few pumps, hearing him beg for you hurry up. you spit on your hand, messily spreading it on his shaft before you part your lips to take him into your mouth. you look up at him, see his eyes closed, and head back. you kept on moving up and down, he let out a loud groan.

you continued bobbing your head up and down, you teased his balls. he made such pretty noises when you did that.

you kept your pace steady until you started to feel his dick twitch in your mouth, you began to quicken your speed until he eventually released his load in your mouth, it spread to your face and chest, and whatever was left in your mouth you swallowed.

he dropped onto his bed, panting heavily. you cleaned yourself up with a cloth you hoped was clean on his bed. it was probably filled with cum anyway.

you sat next to him. his dick was still out.

"c-can we do that again?" he tiredly asked, looking over to you.you sighed heavily. "i guess so, whatever. just don't tell anyone." you warned, rolling your eyes. welp

#gerard way x reader #gerard way smut #basement gerard way x reader #mcr x reader #my chemical romance x reader #all2angels

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munsonbrackets · 1 year ago

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Astarion x undying male reader (2)

I rewrote it! I like this one more than the other one, hopefully you all enjoy ver. 2 as well!

TW: angst, graphic(ish) depitctions, SPOILERS FOR ASTARION'S STORY

You and Astarion walk down the steps. The steps that are gonna decide the fate of him forevermore.

Who lives, who dies.

At the end of the stairs, Cazador starts his speech. The rehearsed words fall into crumbling deafening sentences, leaving you silent as Astarion speaks up for himself.

“You son of a bitch.” Astarion sneers and leaps towards starting the fight against his former master himself. You do not manage to grab him.

Before anyone can even register what’s happened, Astarion is sent to his spot. His spot, his place in the ritual, it glows and shimmers as if to mock and disturb you. Which it does.

Cazador stares at you, the contained rage flittering across his expression. Next thing you feel is his closeness to yourself, the heat running from your throat. His claws had dug and slashed and you feel the burning, red hot, blood draws down and in, suffocating and heating and dizzying. You fall to the floor, the liquid leaving you, leaves you feeling restless, but so fucking tired.

The rest of your party startle in for the fight ahead as you lay useless, suffocating on your own blood. The next thing you see is your own blood forming around you, your eyes blacking out. It never stops hurting.

And as you wake, your companions are struggling, fighting against the plentyfull of foes that you so cruelly left them fighting alone.

Your hand pushes your head off the floor first, no one has yet to notice the sudden life stuttering its way through your body. But the desperation never leaves your head. How long?! You scream, but no words leave you. Your mouth dry and parched, the words catching on the cut that is struck across your throat.

As you look up you realize that Cazador is at his last step. The last part, a mere handful of seconds left. You push yourself off the ground, your legs carry you faster than your newly living lungs can keep up with, but you catch him.

You catch Cazador as you leap towards the edge, a bone crushing grip settled around his ribs. You drag him to whatever pit of hell awaits under his sick idea of a ritualistic battleground that he had built to ascend.

To become great.

To take away Astarion.

The descent towards the floor of the pit goes by in seconds, but Cazador is scratching and pushing, biting and attempting to flee. You will not let him. Your keen ears hear his body connect with the ground a mere millisecond before yours does. A mere fraction of a moment, that you use to hope. Hope that this stopped the ritual, that Astarion is safe.

And once more everything is black.

You cannot help but wonder if they tried to pay Withers. To bring you back. What he said, what they discussed, would they try to get your body? Put themselves on the line for your unanimated corpse?

You were perhaps nothing more than a splotch on the ground, but you still thought. You were thinking. You are thinking.

Your eyes open with the same voracity as the breath you take in. No longer a splotch, no longer a pile of mess. You were in your own body again. In your own body, with heat. Heat pouring from your beating heart, pumping the blood and startling your limbs to reset. Your tears start and you sob. You wretch every gasp of air through your body as you lay at the bottom of a seemingly endless pit.

And as your brittle bones register the muscles surrounding them, they realize they are not so brittle after all. They are living. Moving, constricting, cramping, releasing. They tense as you push yourself to sit up.

Seemingly endless vastness peers down at you from the great beyond that you see when you look up. Climb, no think, just climb, no look around. Your head and heart scream, striking your ears with a piercing pitch.

You look around first, no one just makes a ditch. It has to have a purpose. Your aching legs agree to push you up, the all too familiar burn spreading through your body. The burn that you have labeled ‘The experience of one more life’, the feeling of living. Again.

You trudge insecurely across the unstable floor that you cannot see in the complete darkness. Your eyes only adjust enough to see your own nose, you’ve learnt that your eyes wake up last, probably due to the separate immune system awakening to the…situation?

You put your hands up, stumbling into a wall, following it, finding an arch. A doorway, probably. And stairs. Stairs. Inside the doorway. You crawl up, making sure that one hand follows the edge, your other leads you. Slowly.

As you get nearer to the top, your body no longer burns from life, but from exhaustion. Step by step, you near the dim light of the ritualistic battlefield that you fell from. Dead silence.

Your heart once more burns as you realize that you left your companions to fight, you forced a hand that Cazador couldn’t have dealt. You never even felt what should have been Cazador’s splotch on the ground that you awoke on, nothing sticky, icky or gooey. The light finally shows you your hands, which are covered in nothing but dust and dirt of some kind.

The far top reveals that you just climbed a tower, the bridge that would have led directly to Cazador’s ritual is completely broken. But your companions might need help, they might not have lived like you always seemed to. They might need you to pay Withers. Bring them back. Your legs brace themselves for the jump towards the center. You should have jumped further, you realize, as your chest collides with jutted bricks, your breath cascaded out as your nails dig into any crevice they can get hold of. A single slip and you start over.

You refuse. You clamber up the edge, sitting right behind what would have been Astarion’s circle. No ashes, no bones, he must be alright. A quick glance tells you that no bones here are mildly human. You push your legs forward once more, stand up. Walk over past Cazador’s empty tomb, his distraught body slowly succumbing to the laws of nature. But not gone.

You stomp over his skull, then you pause, then you repeat. Again and again and again, the heat of rage spreads through you. Fuck this place, fuck Cazador, fuck this ritual.

Your head thumps as you look towards the stairs leading up, leading out. The steps are tenfold worse than from the tower, the adrenaline gone, the rush faded, even the anger disappeared as quickly as it entered.

The top of the stairs is adorned by voices, whispers almost. Then only the silence broken by your tired steps on the staircase. You practically drag your body the rest of the way. Another doorway, leading to…people.

People with swords pointed at you, bows drawn, daggers at the ready. The monster hunters stand ready, their weapons drawn. The center of them, just in front of the elevator that leads out. Astarion. Beautiful, kind, Astarion.

Astarion who pushes past the hunters in front of him, Astarion who runs to you, Astarion who leaps into your arms. Your legs barely brace for his body's impact, before they give in and the two of you collapse onto your knees, the hard floor doing nothing for the pain that shoots through your body.

Gorgeous Astarion who sobs into your embrace as you hold him. The tears stream down your own cheeks, the command for everyone to stand down is given. Astarion pulls away, peels himself away from you. The lack of him makes you feel cold.

“You-” Astarion sneers, “I saw you! What did y-”

He doesn’t manage to finish his sentence as the tears cascade over his angry expression and he sends a flurry of weak punches into you. A sob wracks through his body.

“Cazador knew you! You know he knew you.”

You realize Astarion’s eyes are not filled with anger directed at you, but himself. He remembers you. He remembers handing you to Cazador.

“I forgive you, Astarion. I would throw myself off an edge to save you a million times over.” You mutter back, your hands finding the sides of his face. You bring his face to yours, plant a sweet kiss on him. You pull away and plant Astarion’s forehead against you. His hands hold yours, still on his face.

“You’re that invulnerable boy. I’m so sorry.” Astarion mutters through more gasps and sobs.

“I forgive you, I forgave you a long time ago, before ever meeting you again. You’re my everything, Astarion. I wouldn’t change a thing about the past if it meant I would never meet you again.” You tumble out, the saltiness of your tears entering your mouth as your words stumble.

You fall into each other's embrace again, a silent promise. Truth goes both ways. But not now. Now is reserved for this.

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amber-laughs · 1 year ago

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Theon’s view of Jon is so interesting to me because it rests solely on Theon’s view of himself. It’s ever changing but not really one that evolves past childhood grievances:

First Theon lands on Pyke, starts being talked down to and belittled by being called a Stark, something he’s forced to acknlowledge isn’t true. Reflecting on his hurt feelings and isolation he considers Jon to be placed above him in status and dignity.

“The whole castle, from Lady Stark to the lowliest kitchen scullion, knew he was hostage to his father's good behavior, and treated him accordingly. Even the bastard Jon Snow had been accorded more honor than he had.”

Seeming to seep more into resentment and anger than pity, Theon reverses it only a few sentences later and claims Jon was the one jealous of him. But only after he realizes men on the Iron Islands still hate the Starks from past wars and consider themselves better than them. Theon came home to treat on King Robb’s behalf and has little to note of the other children so Jon seems to take the place as the “Stark” he can beat down before moving on to his contempt for the Mallisters.

“Only Robb and his baseborn half brother Jon Snow had been old enough to be worth his notice. The bastard was a sullen boy, quick to sense a slight, jealous of Theon's high birth and Robb's regard for him.”

When Maester Luwin implores him to surrender and seek refuge at the Wall one of Theon’s deciding factors to go is that if it’s good enough for Jon Snow than it’s good enough for him too. A boy who, last Theon spoke of him, was sullen, jealous and petty but now that Theon’s self-esteem and arrogance has worn off Jon is someone he once again views in a higher regard than himself.

“A brother of the Night's Watch. It meant no crown, no sons, no wife . . . but it meant life, and life with honor. Ned Stark's own brother had chosen the Watch, and Jon Snow as well.”

Of course this only lasts until Theon thinks more men have come to fight for him. Putting himself back in the victorious Prince of Winterfell’s shoes the Night’s Watch is a laughable idea he would never seriously consider.

“This was victory, sweet victory, the deliverance he had prayed for. He glanced at Maester Luwin. To think how close I came to yielding, and taking the black…”

In ADWD when Theon isn’t Theon at all but Reek he looks back on Jon more than once with no thought of status or past animosities but something of a brother he played with, the way he did Robb in ACoK.

“Later, older, he had soaked his bruises in the hot springs after many a session in the yard with Robb and Jory and Jon Snow.”

“I learned to fight in this yard, he thought, remembering warm summer days spent sparring with Robb and Jon Snow under the watchful eyes of old Ser Rodrik”

That is until word of Stannis reaching Winterfell comes and Theon can see himself breaking free of his Reek torture. Becoming Theon Greyjoy will once again make Jon an enemy, just a bastard to look back on with contempt and mistrust.

“Theon shivered. Baratheon or Bolton, it made no matter to him. Stannis had made common cause with Jon Snow at the Wall, and Jon would take his head off in a heartbeat. Plucked from the clutches of one bastard to die at the hands of another, what a jape.”

#‘Theon wants to be Jon Snow but he can’t do it.’ grrm you ate that #but oh theon your ever changing reality means so much to me #oh devistating isolation how you ruined an already damaged and torn apart young boy #theon greyjoy #jon snow #valyrianscrolls #game of thrones #asoiaf #acok #adwd

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light-purp-insect · 9 months ago

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A Hesitant Rest (Zevlor BG3 x GN unspecified Tav)

Notes/warnings: SFW, fluff, domestic feelings, mentions of other companions, Astarion being himself at the end, not beta read, sleeping together (literally), slight depictions of anxiety, slight nudity (undressing in the company of another person), very light spoilers, possibly fast paced? (Read author's notes below for context), very little dialogue

This was just an excuse to write something in two days to finally put another fic on my blog, as well as hopefully an introduction for fans of Baldur's Gate 3 to send asks.

The fire of the camp was on its last embers, the bright hot orange ashes going into the sky but no crackle left. It made the little clearing have such little lighting, the only main source being an occasional lantern or candle left out near a tent before their inhabitant went to bed. That or Karlach’s internal workings giving a glow through the thin fabric of her tent, but that was always to be expected. Speaking of, I don’t even remember why I’m still up. It's not like anyone will attack us, I’ve noticed very few creatures are even interested in us. But then again, I couldn’t be certain. For all I knew, there could be a bear that wasn’t Halsin or perhaps a crazed Drow or–

You notice the dull red tip of a pointed tail of your tiefling friend, Zevlor, twitch back and forth. His eyes scanned the camp and the outskirts of the trees until falling onto you. You could see the initial shock of realizing you were awake melt into delight. The bowl of food next to him had gone cold a while ago, but so did yours. He motions for you to come closer with a hand, and you oblige without much convincing.

Eventually you find yourself on the ground next to him in silence. Your hand in his, more for his comfort than trying to be cuddly, his tail begins to become more alive. In particular his tail went from nervously flicking in the dirt to being pressed against your side and the tip swishing to pat your thigh.

“Have you been sleeping well?”

“I'm afraid not, dear.”

His voice sounded a little defeated. He had gotten older and the stress of the loss of several Hellriders still was fresh in his mind. In his mind he still felt terrible, no matter how many times you tried to convince him it wasn't his fault for having his mind essentially possessed. To be honest he wanted to sleep next to you, you knew how to handle him the best.

“I have a few extra pillows, would you-..?” He doesn't finish his sentence, hoping you would be able to take his hint. To reiterate his question, he points to his tent with a clawed finger and tilts his head slightly. Once again you oblige to his silent offers. With a slightly pained groan, he gets up from the ground and guides you away towards his tent.

Much like he had said, on the rather rudimentary mattress was a few extra pillows and an old woven blanket for the both of you. From the inside, he turns and closes the fabric flap to the tent and begins to shuck the light armor from his body. The old leather falls unceremoniously to a little corner as he stretches his back with another groan. His tail slowly swishing around behind him as he continues to undress, giving you some privacy as you do as well.

Within a short time, he has stripped down to his old and worn boxers, the hoary fabric ripped slightly along the waistband and one of the side seams had been hastily restitched quite a while ago. His once lean body had gotten softer in some areas from age, of course still having to be well maintained from his previous years of travels. He had a few pink scars littering his figure, but nothing that looked particularly gnarly or uncomfortable to live with.

Eventually he turned back to you, giving a small smile that made his nasolabial lines more visible. He had bathed next to you a few times, so you weren't anything especially new to see in little clothing. He hunkers down on the poorly made mattress and waits patiently for you to follow. “It's been a little while since I was last able to sleep next to someone.” He muttered before looking away.

When he felt the bed sink under your weight, he looked back up. His gaze softened every second you were close. He needed this, something to comfort him tonight. The two of you languidly lay your heads on the pillows, and Zevlor momentarily readjusts himself so he wasn't laying on his horns.

As the two of you lay under the covers, eyes closed and silent, you feel the dull edge of a clawed hand. Did Zevlor want to hold you? It wouldn't be anything particularly out-of-the-ordinary, after all you had been through with this adventure. From under the blanket you guide his hand against your side. He gives a thankful huff in response.

And then, something you hadn't even thought he would do had happened. You had a feeling he wanted some contact, but now he had his arms wrapped around you and cradling your head to his chest. He smelt like the leather of his armor and had the faintest hint of smoke, probably from staying by the fire for so long. The tiefling languidly entertwined the both of your legs together, finally finding the warmth he so desperately craved. And you let him, he deserved something soft for once.

“Thank you, darling.” He purred– not in a lustful or lecherous way, but an actual feline-adjacent pur. You could feel by the blanket that his tail was sleepily wagging, clearly delighted you would let him have this. A pair of lips press to the crown of your head and stay there. You finally speak once again, wanting him to hear your voice before he drifted off to bed. “You're welcome, Zevlor.”

-- -- -- --

As the pale elf came back to the camp from his feeding, he instinctively decided to check the tents of his other companions. Gale, Wyll, Karlach, Lae’zel, Zev– oh. Well, at least he wouldn't need to check your tent tonight. He grined at the awfully sweet sight of the both of you asleep in the other's arms. He had a feeling he would tease one of you later, but he would allow you to rest before so.

#Av writes for once #zevlor bg3 #Zevlor Baldur's Gate 3 #zevlor x tav #zevlor x reader #zevlor x you #zevlor #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 fanfiction #baldur's gate 3 fic

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yesbutmakeitgay · 7 months ago

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Once Upon A Time I Used To Know A Girl

Chapter 10

Carol Danvers x Reader

Masterlist | This work's masterlist | AO3

Summary: A peek into what Carol has been up to during these trying times.

Angst, Slow Burn, Amnesia.

Word count: 778

A/N: Officially halfway through the fic!!!!

I Tried To Write, But It’s Killing Me Inside

Carol lands her ship on the strange planet and veils it, you both get out all geared up and ready for the last minute mission. The place is hot and sandy with big rocks scattered around, it almost looks deserted.

The Captain scans the area with her eyes, "We should split up to cover more terrain," she instructs, "keep your comms on and meet back here in 15." You give her a nod and do as you're told.

Carol starts walking after she sees you leave, sensing something off about the environment. A couple of minutes go by and she hears you through her ear piece, "Carol, I think someone's here," you whisper.

"Send me your coordinates." She receives some signal but it's too choppy to understand, "Can you hear me?" Her voice growing desperate, "Angel?"

Static.

She turns around as quickly as she can to get back to you, but when she does, she finds a small army of full body armored soldiers waiting for her. They start charging at her with weapons of all sorts and she gets to work on every one of them. When she thinks she's almost done, backup shows up with even bigger weapons. It takes her more than 15 minutes to get through all of them, but when she does she flies back to your meeting point.

She arrives, but doesn't find you there, panic starts to set in her mind. She follows your footprints in the sand until they disappear somewhere down the path. She keeps going and sees a body in the distance, lying against a rock. Upon closer inspection she realizes it's you, unconscious, fully bruised, head bleeding, uniform destroyed.

"Angel?" Her voice is drowning in despair, when you don’t show a reaction she picks you up and rushes you back to the ship. She pilots it as fast as she can to get you to the compound.

"Please wake up." But the next time you did, you didn't know who she was.

Carol takes the Skrull memory device off and gets out of bed, Goose following behind her. She's wearing sweatpants and a Nine Inch Nails t-shirt that she probably hasn't changed all week, there are dark circles in her eyes.

She's been off duty since her last mission and she hasn't left her Louisiana home at all in that time. Her ship is parked in the backyard, veiled and untouched.

As she gets to the kitchen her cell phone starts ringing, she doesn't even look at who's calling before she silences it. "They keep calling," she rasps to Goose, annoyed. She makes coffee and puts some takeout leftovers in the microwave.

They sit at the table with breakfast, "I shouldn't have told her to split up," she mutters into her coffee, "it's all my fault." Goose just meows in return, already having had this conversation everyday for the past few weeks, "I should have known." Carol can't seem to think about anything else, she feels crushing guilt and grief for what happened, but also can't muster the courage to face you.

She picks up a newspaper in an attempt to distract herself. She blinks a few times to get her stinging eyes to focus, but gets stuck rereading the same sentence over and over again, failing to get her brain to process the words. Another call pulls her out of her thoughts, coming through her intergalactic device, "Val," she grumbles, before turning it down. After that, she gives up on the newspaper.

When she's done eating she takes the rest of her coffee to the porch to get some fresh air, Goose sits right beside her, "I should have gotten to her faster." The memory of the mission never leaving her mind, always trying to find a way it could have gone differently, "How did I let this happen?" She’s all out of tears, traces of the past weeks still marking her cheeks.

A third call starts ringing, this time, on her landline. She runs to stop it, but she's too late, the call goes to voicemail, she's about to delete it until she hears Kamala's voice, it is sweet and caring and full of kindness.

"Hey, I know you know we've been calling, please pick up, please, so we can talk. Whatever it is you're trying to achieve, it's not working, you're hurting her a lot more by not being here. You can just come by the compound, we can set something up. You owe it to her. Okay, um, goodbye."

Before even thinking it she pulls the phone cable out of the wall, regretting it immediately, "Fuck!" she yells into the empty house.

Chapter 11

Clap if you missed Carol Danvers!

Tags: @graniairish @carols-photonblast @thelittleliars @unicorniusfallapatorius @prplepeony

Let me know if you wanna be tagged :)

#carol danvers fic #carol danvers #carol danvers x reader #captain marvel #captain marvel x reader #carol danvers angst #kamala khan #valkyrie

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honeygrahambitch · 2 years ago

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Will grabbed a bottle of soy sauce and two ginger roots like Hannibal had asked him and lined up in the queue.

He had to go to the asian store to grab some emergency items which Hannibal needed urgently for dinner so of course he had asked Will to get them. He would have gone himself but he needed to take care of the rest of the food which was still cooking.

Will was not thrilled by the idea. They had been busy with a nasty murder last night and he thought he would be able to sleep during the whole afternoon. But those plans had been shattered when Hannibal had walked into the doorframe of their bedroom with a serious look on his face.

Will had been worried at first but the sentence which came next made him lift an eyebrow.

"I am in urgent need of soy sauce and ginger, Will."

So that was the reason why he was now waiting in the queue. There was just one cash register and she was quite slow.

Two young girls were sitting in line in front of Will, gossiping about "some hot dude at school". He was cranky anyway, the loud chatter and giggles only pissed him off more.

"No, no, no, he doesn't have a girlfriend. He is flirting with the whole school. Especially with the freshmen." One of them said and laughed loudly.

"I'm pretty sure he has. He posted a picture of himself and a pretty girl. Older than us though." The other one replied skeptically.

"Oh, shut up, Beverly, don't ruin my day!"

Will could not hear the rest of the conversation. His mind went blank as soon as he heard the name.

Her severed body flashed before his eyes and then their last conversation. He had replayed it in his mind for many times. It was the crime Hannibal had commited but her blood was not on his hands. It was on Will's.

"Sir?"

He had zoned out so deeply that he didn't realize he was right in front of the cashier. He mechanically paid for everything and left the store.

As soon as he got outside, his mind went back to the crime scene. To him, it had been one of the worst crimes Hannibal had ever committed. Right next to Abigail's. He had taken a good friend away from him.

She had been the only one ready to risk her job and life in order to look for evidence for him. Because he had kept pushing her. He had insisted and insisted until he had killed her. He felt something between rage and deep sadness towards Hannibal, but he felt even more rage towards himself. He shouldn't have let her get that close.

And for what? Her death had been in vain. He and Hannibal were almost engaged at that point. All the struggles to catch him had been reduced to nothing. Will felt like the biggest hypocrite. He ended up exactly like him. Beverly would have been disgusted if she knew what she had risked everything for.

"Will? Is everything alright?"

He had dissociated on the whole way home and didn't even greet Hannibal when he came in. He just left the paper bag on the kitchen counter and then he walked straight towards their bedroom.

"Will?" Hannibal insisted and followed him.

Will didn't even notice his attempts. It felt as if the floor was simply pulling him in as the walls of the room kept spinning. He hadn't thought about Beverly in a few years now. He had repressed everything so deeply that it felt as if a train had hit him.

He came back to his senses when he felt Hannibal's thumb on his cheek, wiping away a tear which escaped from his eye.

"It seems like you entered some dark rooms." Hannibal said referring to his mind palace.

Will nodded shortly as more tears ran down his face.

And in a matter of a second, the rage, the blame, the guilt, the sadness and the regret were replaced by something else.

He missed her.

She had been his friend and he was missing her. The adrenaline rushed so fast to his veins that he had to allow himself to sit on the floor, followed by Hannibal.

"I miss her" was all he said before he couldn't speak anymore and broke down in tears.

Hannibal wrapped his arms around him, as gently as possible, grateful that he did not push him away this time. Will pressed his face against his chest to muffle his sobs and look for some sort of comfort. Peculiar, to seek peace in the arms of the one who had caused you pain. Even more peculiar, to be able to admit that he loved him more than his own life.

Hannibal tried to figure out who he was talking about. Abigail? Hopefully not Molly, God. Alana? Even worse if it was the case. He doubted it was Abigail, he would usually get pretty cold towards him when it came to Abigail.

The Will he was holding now in his arms needed physical touch. Needed to consolation. Needed sweet words.

However, one thing was certain. He was the reason for Will's pain. It was certainly someone he had taken away from him that he was grieving now. If he could, he would bring back to life anyone, only to sooth his pain.

"I am so sorry." He had said as one of his hands ruffled his dark curls.

In reply Will sobbed even harder to the point where Hannibal wondered if he could breath properly.

Will kept crying in his arms until there were no more tears left. Until he could not feel a thing anymore. Not towards Beverly's death, not towards Hannibal and nor towards himself. He felt as cold as he would usually feel when he would take away someone's life.

He lifted his head and for a few seconds he and Hannibal looked at each other. In contrast to his, Hannibal's eyes were full of emotion. He wanted to help, to make it a bit better.

Will simply got up, turned his back to him and left the room, letting him on the floor alone with his regrets and apologies.

#i know this starts funny #and i know it ends miserably #but heyyy you missed an angsty fic right #hannibal #hannigram #hannibal lecter #will graham #hannibal nbc #hannibal series #hannibal fanfiction

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orionsstory · 1 month ago

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that kind of devotion | anarcia (8)

warnings for fire and general distress/threats in this chapter! as always you can check out the chapter on ao3 as well! I'd like to apologize in advance poor anetra goes through it

"Where are we going again?"

"Some bar my girlfriend and her friends are at." Aura called back, her eyes glued to the directions on her phone.

"Right. What's the occasion again?"

"Uhm...I think a promotion or something."

Anetra chuckled as they paused on the corner of the street, Aura looking intently at the two directions before them. She hesitated for a moment before leading them left.

"Are you sure you don't want me to do it?"

Aura waved her off. "No, no, it's okay- I got it. We're not gonna get lost like last time."

They did in fact get lost. Just like last time.

Anetra ended up taking the phone from Aura and correctly guiding them in the right direction. It may have taken an extra thirty minutes, but they finally arrived. Aura led them inside the club, weaving through the groups of people until her eyes lit up as she spotted a group. Her girlfriend practically lit up when she spotted the two, tossing herself into Aura's arms.

Anetra had to admit, they were cute. Aura had been going on and on about Robin for the past few weeks, so it was nice to put a face to a name. Her thoughts were interrupted when Aura introduced her to the others, elbowing the other girl at her comment. Was her resting bitch face really that bad?

She drew her attention to the other girls. She didn't recognize the one with curly blonde hair, but the other two seemed familiar. She couldn't place her finger on where until the club lights flashed, illuminating the girl with the straight blonde hair.

Marcia.

She felt panic flair up in her chest before she calmed herself down, panicking would only attract more attention to herself- maybe Marcia didn't even recognize her.

Marcia looked as if she was about to speak to say something to Anetra, but before that Aura pulled her away to grab drinks for the group. Aura, her saving grace. Temporarily, but that was better than nothing. They got to the bar, Aura repeated the drink orders to the bartender before turning her attention back to Anetra. They talked for a moment before her phone started to ring, she told Aura she'd be right back before heading out back to answer the call.

"Hello?" She answered, leaning back on the brick wall.

"Lotus, it's an emergency." Detective Barnes' voice echoed over the phone. "There's a fire at a store on 12th, it's believed to be linked to the perp."

"I'm on my way."

Anetra had to pretend to be calm as she made her way back inside, telling Aura there was an emergency and she had to leave. She rushed through the club, making her way to an empty alleyway before she jetted off to her apartment to change.

Now in her hero costume, she whipped through the air faster than she had ever flown before. The pit in her stomach only grew as she got closer, she began to see the smoke wafting up from the buildings. She quickly touched down onto the street- the fire was burning bright, engulfing almost the whole building. This was like nothing she had ever seen.

"Well, Lotus, it's nice to finally meet you in person." A voice giggled from above. Anetra lifted her head to see a figure standing in the sky. She had big, curly blonde hair and a red and black suit, a long cape flowing behind her. She could make out a red devil mask covering her eyes.

"You!" She spat out, readying herself to kick off before a noise interrupted her.

A weak call for help came from the burning building. Anetra's eyes widened at the realization.

"Make your choice, Lotus."

But Anetra didn't even hear the end of her sentence, already kicking out the glass in the window and making her way into the inferno.

The building was hot, even for her. Because of her fire powers, her body temperature was higher than regular people's, allowing her to better deal with high temperatures. But she could feel herself starting to sweat, which meant the person stuck here must be burning up.

"Where are you?" She called out as she began to search the premises, quickly clearing out all the rooms on the first floor. She heard a bump from upstairs, rushing up the burning stairs. She spotted a figure curled up in the corner of the room, hurriedly making her way over.

It was an old man, Anetra could tell he was still breathing but he was definitely in a fragile state. She kicked out the closest window, clearing the glass around the frame before picking up the old man. She cleared the window, careful not to cut the man with the glass before touching down on the other side of the street, gently laying him down on the ground.

She heard sirens approaching in the distance, looking up towards the sky- the woman was gone, Anetra cursed beneath her breath as she turned her attention back to the old man. She had some small bandages stored on her, getting to work on patching up his smaller cuts. He was starting to come back to consciousness, so Anetra helped him sit up as the ambulance rounded the corner.

"Are you okay, sir?"

"Y-yes ma'am, thank you."

Anetra helped the medics load the man into the ambulance, filling them in on the situation before they headed to the hospital. The fire department had extinguished the building by that point and was currently looking around inside for any evidence. She spotted Detective Barnes waving her over.

"Nice job, Lotus."

She sighed, running her hand through her hair. "I don't know. She got away."

Anetra felt a pang of guilt as she looked back at the charred building. Maybe if she had been quick enough, she could've caught up with the perp. Oh well- there was no use dwelling on it now. She and Barnes briefed each other on their accounts, Anetra describing the villain to him and Barnes explaining he believed the call came from her. That puzzled Anetra, why would she call in her own crime?

"Why would she do that? Did she...want to be caught?"

Barnes shook his head, "I don't think so. I think it might be an ego thing."

"Like she's taunting us?"

"Exactly that. She called from a burner phone, we found the smashed remains a few feet away from the building."

Anetra sighed, "She's smart, I'll give her that."

Another officer approached sheepishly, handing a note to Anetra. She groaned, already knowing what it was. The other officer beckoned Barnes to follow him, leaving Anetra alone. That was certainly odd, but whatever. She didn't think this one would be much different from the others.

She unfolded the paper, her eyes scanning over the words. She froze, a lump forming in her throat. That couldn't be right. She re-read the letter again and again, her heartbeat increasing each time.

There, in pretty cursive handwriting, was Anetra's full name and address.

She spent the next three hours patrolling, her mind racing and in full panic mode. Had her files been breached? It wasn't impossible, she knew it'd happened before, but who would risk their job over such a low-ranking hero? The more likely scenario in her mind was that she had been sloppy, that this villain had been keeping track of her moves and used it to find out where she lived. She cursed herself for being so careless.

Her phone ringing jolted her out of her trance, Sasha's photo lighting up her screen.

"Hello?" She croaked out. God, she hadn't realized how tired she was.

"Stop patrolling and go to bed. You sound awful."

She sighed, touching down on top of a building. She stumbled a bit as she sat, her body exhausted. She knew Sasha was right, her body was screaming for her to rest, but she couldn't.

"I can't, Sash."

"What happened?"

Anetra took a deep breath before spitting everything out- the fire, actually seeing the villain, and the note. She felt chills run up her body as she recounted it to Sasha, her voice tired and weak. Sasha, as patient as ever, listened to her rambling that she was certain didn't make sense. She couldn't stop kicking herself for not only putting herself but also Sasha in the path of danger.

"Neech, baby. Listen to me. I'm okay and so are you. She might have the address, but there's no way she's getting into that building. It's one of the most secure in the city. So please, go home and get some rest. I'll be back in three days, okay?"

"But-"

"No buts. She hasn't even tried to fight you, she knows you're stronger than her. You'd beat her ass in an instant. There's no way she's coming close to the building."

Anetra took a shaky breath. "Yeah. Yeah...you're right."

"Of course I am. I love you, Neech. We'll be okay. I'll get extra security if that'll reassure you."

"It would. Thank you, Sash. I love you too."

Sasha stayed on the phone with her as she made her way back to the apartment, her eyes scanning the area for the blonde villain. She was on high alert, only letting her guard down once she had searched every corner of the apartment for a bug or wiretap. Once she was sure, she passed out, clinging onto Mr. Quack.

She had that dream again. That nightmare. Sasha's screams and Marcia's blood-stained body. She woke with a start, finding it nearly impossible to get the image out of her mind. It took her a while to drift back off again, but her sleep remained restless. She tossed and turned, still feeling exhausted when she woke up.

She tried to focus on things she enjoyed, she took a walk in the park and watched the ducks, and she went to the gym to work some of the stress off, but none of it seemed to help. She found it hard to find joy in any of the activities, instead, she was constantly watching her back. Her mind was an anxious swirl of dark thoughts and dread, she could feel herself becoming overwhelmed by the emotions.

It only worsened the day after, the ring of her cell phone interrupting the first decent sleep she had been able to have. She groggily sat up, her eyes narrowing on the unknown number. She reasoned it might be a client, so she sighed as she clicked the answer button.

"Hello?"

"Anetra, how are you?"

That voice. It was her- the villain. She bolted to attention, already texting Barnes about the situation. If they could track the call, they may be able to find her and capture her.

"Who are you?"

"Right to business, hm? People have no manners these days." She hears the girl cackle over the phone, "You don't need to know who I am. Not yet."

"What do you want?"

"Just wanted to talk. Figured you were probably quite stressed after last night." Anetra scowled as the girl giggled.

"You could have killed that man, you know."

"Please, I figured you'd save him. But if you didn't...well, I wouldn't have been too upset."

"You're disgusting."

"Careful there. You may have been able to save this one, but you may not be so lucky in the future."

"Is that a threat?"

"Perhaps...maybe you should keep an eye on that blonde girl...what's her name again?"

Anetra felt her blood run cold and a pit building up in her stomach. She stayed silent as she listened to the woman on the other line humming.

"Oh, that's right- Marcia."

Anetra felt her fear turn into rage, her fists clenched around the bed sheets.

"Leave her alone." She spat.

"Strikes a nerve, does it? Good to know..."

"Fuck with me all you want, but leave her out of this. She doesn't know anything."

"Are you sure about that? Well, I have to run anyway. Nice try, but I know you sent your little police officers after me. Ta-ta, Anetra."

The phone clicked off, leaving Anetra there with her thoughts. If she wasn't stressed out before, she was now. The idea that some villain might be stalking Marcia, that she might hurt her, scared Anetra to no end. She tossed her phone aside, staring up at the ceiling in an attempt to calm herself down.

Sasha came home two days later and immediately noticed something was wrong.

"Have you been eating?"

Anetra avoided her gaze as Sasha dropped her bags down beside the couch. She had tried to fix her appearance so as not to worry her, but it was obvious that hadn't worked. Ever since the call from that morning, Anetra had spent most of her free time patrolling. She hadn't exactly been taking care of herself, but she didn't think Sasha would have picked up on it that easily.

"Neech...what happened?"

Anetra took a shaky breath, "I got another call...she...she brought up Marcia."

Sasha took a seat beside her, rubbing her back soothingly. "Oh, baby...so you've been working yourself to death, hm?"

Anetra nodded, practically collapsing into Sasha's arms.

"I'm so mad at myself. She doesn't deserve this. Fuck, how could I be so careless?"

"It's not like this is a common occurrence. This is pretty unheard of, even for more famous heroes." Sasha comforted her, rubbing circles into her back. "Have you told Marcia?"

It hadn't even crossed her mind. She felt guilty about it, of course, but she was also worried. She was worried that Marcia wouldn't trust her anymore. She wouldn't blame her- she didn't deserve to be stalked because Anetra liked her. It's why she hadn't talked to her in three days.

"Is that a no?"

Anetra nodded, groaning. "I haven't talked to her since...all that happened. I'm scared, Sasha."

"I understand, but you need to tell her."

"I know...I'm just...scared she'll hate me."

"Neech, she's not going to hate you. But still, for her safety, you need to tell her. Ignoring her won't make her safer."

"Fuck...you're right. God, how am I going to tell her?"

"You should be honest. You'd do anything to keep her safe, right?"

"Of course."

"Then tell her that too. She trusts you a lot, I promise it'll go better than you think."

Anetra nods, sniffling. She opens up her phone, her screen filled with missed texts and calls from Marcia. She opens up the text thread, her eyes landing on the last message sent that morning.

Marcia🎀 is everything okay? you haven't answered me in a while...

She felt a pang of guilt as she read the message. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard before she typed out a response.

I'm sorry. Can I talk to you tonight?

Marcia🎀 of course.

Anetra felt a slight sense of relief flow through her. She just hoped Marcia would understand.

She spent the rest of the day with Sasha who helped snap her out of her funk. She was grateful, she felt less anxious than she had the past few days. She still felt a bit shaky, but it was an improvement nonetheless.

As their meeting time drew closer, Anetra began to rehearse what she would say to Marcia. She ran through all of the scenarios that might happen, preparing herself for all of them. Finally, it came time to leave. She nervously suited up, taking a deep breath in to try and calm herself.

She flew a bit slower than she usually did, her nerves spiking as she grew closer. Eventually, she reached Marcia's apartment. She hesitated for a moment, glancing around before gently knocking three times on Marcia's window. She heard some pacing in the room before the pink curtain drew back, Marcia now in front of her. She gently pushed the window open, looking up at her.

"Hi."

"Come in."

Anetra's heart stung at the words, so dull compared to Marcia's usual cheer. She gently swung herself into the room, closing the window behind her. Marcia was sat on the bed, looking at her expectantly. She hesitated, sitting on the windowsill.

"You can sit on the bed, you know."

Anetra shakily got up, taking a seat a few feet away from Marcia. Marcia frowned when she sat down before looking back up toward her. Anetra opened her mouth to speak, feeling her words catching in her mouth.

"I-"

She grimaced as she felt her throat go dry, unable to speak. Marcia noticed, speaking up instead.

"Did I do something wrong?"

"What? No, no, of course not."

Marcia's words took Anetra by surprise, she looked up towards the girl. She felt a pang of guilt go through her as she looked at Marcia's face, a mix of hurt and confusion.

"Then what is it, Lotus? You've been ignoring me for three days..."

"It's not your fault...it's...it's..."

She tried to spit out what she had rehearsed. But in that moment, all the words she had put so much thought into had disappeared. She felt tears prick the corners of her eyes. She tried to steady her breathing as Marcia put a concerned hand on her shoulder. She then burst into tears.

That wasn't what she had planned.

She felt Marcia envelop her in a hug, Anetra burying her head in the blonde's neck as she sobbed. The stress had broken her. She felt embarrassed, she was supposed to be a hero- she wasn't supposed to cry. She was supposed to smile and put on a brave face, to beat the villain. But she couldn't.

"Lotus...talk to me, what's going on?" Marcia held her gently, as if she might break. Anetra gently raised her head, Marcia wiping away a stray tear making its way down her left cheek.

"I-I got a call from that villain..." she choked out, her voice hoarse.

"The one from that big case?" Marcia handed her a bottle of water. Anetra nodded, taking the water with shaky hands.

"Y-yeah...she called me and...well...she threatened you." She finally said, her gaze avoiding Marcia.

"Threatened me how?" Marcia's voice was softer than she expected, she had expected her to be angry with her.

"She...she just insinuated that I might not be able to save you. That she might...hurt you."

"What? How'd she even call you in the first place?"

"She left a note with my name and address. I'm assuming she found my phone number too."

"Lotus..." Marcia spoke softly, running a hand through Anetra's hair.

"I'm so sorry. I'm so fucking sorry. You shouldn't be dealing with any of this."

She sighed, "I wish you would have told me sooner instead of ignoring me."

"I thought if I ignored you...I thought she might leave you alone. I'm sorry, I just...haven't been thinking straight lately."

"I'm not angry," Marcia guided Anetra's head to look up at her, "I know you're worried about me. But just...talk to me about it, okay?"

Anetra nodded, "I will. And I'll do everything I can to protect you. I promise. I'm not going to let her hurt you."

"I know you won't."

"Just...stay extra vigilant until this whole thing blows over, please? You should be with someone at all times, especially at night." Anetra worried, taking Marcia's hands into her own and squeezing them.

"I will. I know you'll catch her." Marcia moved one of her hands up to cup Anetra's face, giving her a soft smile before kissing her cheek.

Anetra softly smiled, feeling herself relax for the first time in days. She leaned into Marcia's touch, allowing herself to feel safe. She was grateful Marcia believed in her, she just hoped she was right.

#thatkindofdevotion #rpdr fanfiction #rpdr #drag race #rupauls drag race #marcia marcia marcia #marcia x3 #anetra #anarcia #rpdr 15

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the7thcrow · 2 years ago

Text

Not all that Glitters is Gold -> 09

series pairing: (fem) princess!reader x seonghwa x san x wooyoung. eventual polyamory.

series masterlist | previous chapter

Part Nine: indignation, drasilisks, and a nail in the coffin.

series rating: 16+

series genre: action and adventure. romance. angst. fluff. suggestive. fantasy au.

series warnings: character death, blood and violence, weaponry, injury, suggestive content, mxm content, elements of misogyny, language, monsters. (will only be using chapter specific warnings for things not included on this list.)

summary: as a princess fleeing a royal assassination attempt, you have no choice but to put your trust in a band of three thieves in order to reach the kingdom of kuroku alive. however, amongst magic, deceit, and the bounty hunters that are hot on your trail, you realize that you might have stumbled upon a relationship far more complicated than what meets the eye.

chapter details beneath the cut ->

wc: 14.0k

extra chapter warnings: n/a

chapter summary:

“Maybe we should take a step back and-” you start, but Woo cuts you off.

“Butt out, Libaiyan,” Woo says immediately, even if he does not look at you. “This isn’t your business.”

“It is her business,” San replies. “She’s just as wrapped up in this as the rest of us are.”

a/n: surprise! i'm still on semi-hiatus until the end of the school year, but i’m currently on my reading week break so i had a bit of down time. really been missing this story and these characters. hope you all enjoy! <3

Seonghwa and Woo will neither speak nor look at you, although considering everything both their eyes and lips could say, you should be more grateful than saddened by that fact.

The four of you walk in silence along the mountain pass, just as you have for the last couple hours. Although there’s been no more than a few words exchanged between the men of your party, none of them have been with you. In fact, you don’t believe your existence has been acknowledged since yesterday morning.

Woo takes charge up front, Seonghwa a few metres behind him, you following suit with the same after himself. San takes up the rear, singular horse in tow behind him.

You had to sell the other horse to the inn as payment for the damages caused by the fight, as well as in return for the supplies and luggage that they’d confiscated from your room. Woo tried to argue with the inn-keeper that Yeosang had attacked him first, but the bounty hunters had long-since left and the inn’s damage needed to be repaired. It was just business, but you could tell she felt a little bad when the boys dejectedly left the horse in the stable.

The result is the remaining horse being unrideable. The animal carries the luggage you’d previously split across the two of them, and wouldn’t be able to handle the extra weight. It’s left you with a far slower journey, time practically standing still between your walking pace and the thick tension hanging in the air.

You feel awful.

You've hardly slept since they’d found out the truth. One night having been spent in endless tears, with your knees planted in the fallen rain and mud. The other in your own tent, although the cold quietness of it served as a reminder of Seonghwa’s absence, and subsequently of your lies.

You managed to convince them to take you on the rest of the journey, less for your own sake and more for theirs. You’re almost through the Burovian Mountains, the minor kingdom of Bebbanburg being your last city before Kuroku. Even if the navigation would be a little difficult, you likely could have managed it yourself.

However, you know that reaching Kuroku alone would feel hollow, considering you’d leave them with nothing but San’s practical death sentence. You couldn’t just abandon them in such utter shambles, even if ultimately that would prove the easiest point of action for yourself. No promises to keep, nor extra strings attached to your arrival at the Kuroken castle.

You’ve grown too attached to these men, you know that.

They’ve become a weakness of the most dangerous kind. The type that you’re aware of is a fault, but rather than overcoming it, you continue to feed into its fragility. You came back for them, and you’re willing to deal with the ridicule and liability that may encompass.

You’ll do what it takes to make this up to them, even if you’ve tarnished every bit of trust you’ve built, and inevitably you’ll be leaving them for good no matter the outcome.

A weakness they are indeed, and feed into that fragility you will.

Fortunately, not every bit of hope is lost for your retribution. You told them of your situation, of your plan to ask the royal family if they will follow through with the betrothal. You’ve also sworn to beg them for the money regardless of whether or not they accept.

After all, Seonghwa had made the conditions of your return very clear: If you have a way to get them the money, come back. If you don’t, then don’t even bother.

“I know it’s not what we agreed upon. Not even close,” you had said, voice raspy and face puffy from having spent the night crying. “But there’s a chance, and I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if we didn’t at least try.”

“You shouldn’t forgive yourself anyway,” Woo muttered, before standing up from his seat at the fire and shouldering his way past you. Pulling back the tent-flap he slipped under without another word. They only set up one tent.

You glanced at Seonghwa, whose gaze wandered away at the mention of your betrothal. You weren’t sure if he was hurt by the marriage itself, or angry that you hid it from him. Likely a little bit of both. He wouldn’t meet your eye.

“Alright,” a voice said from your right. San stood by the horse, packing up the dry nuts and coffee from their breakfast that morning. He gave you a small, weak smile. “We’ll try.”

So you’re trying, although not everyone seems equally as enthused by your plan. While neither have said anything out loud, you know that Seonghwa and Woo aren’t happy with the arrangement, and would choose to head home if they were given the choice. But it’s not their decision, it’s San’s. He’s the one who needs the money, therefore it’s his choice whether to give you a second chance.

For some reason, he has. In fact, he didn’t even seem to contemplate it much, agreeing to continue the journey with no arm-twisting needed. While Seonghwa and Woo’s sense of betrayal reads blatantly in both their expression and behaviour, San's is far less obvious.

You cast a glance over your shoulder at the swordsman, who meets your eyes almost immediately. He gives you a tight-lipped smile.

You’re having a hard time understanding him. He has plenty of reason to hate you - the most reason, debatably, considering it’s his money on the line - and yet, he’s not treating you with any sort of animosity.

He doesn’t appear happy by any means, gaze a little vacant and demeanor overall quiet as you continue to trudge along, but he doesn’t appear crushed. You’d like to talk to him about it, to understand where his head is at, but you don’t feel as if you have the right. You have lost the privilege of having any of these men confide in you.

If he wishes to speak about it, then he will approach you. Let him decide that on his own terms, rather than your pestering curiosity.

Up ahead, Woo takes a sharp turn off the main path, causing Seonghwa to halt and jog after him.

“Woo?” Seonghwa calls. “This isn’t the right way.”

“Shortcut,” Woo replies plainly, not even bothering to slow down.

“Are you sure?” Seonghwa asks. “Because this trail doesn’t look very worn-”

“It’s heading South down the mountain, which is exactly where we need to go,” Woo interrupts, finally pausing as he points at how the trail descends. It’s narrower than the main path, as well as more twisted and steep. “It’ll save us some time, now that we’re reduced to finishing this on foot.”

He doesn’t look at you as he says it, but the annoyance in his tone shows it’s quite blatantly a shot at you.

You don’t want to quip back, having no interest in starting an argument, but the trail ahead appears less than ideal. Almost frightening, as it begins to darken with the shadows of bushy, low-hanging trees. Its descent is steep, not enough to cause you trouble, but likely some for the horse. It’s a gamble, and one you aren’t certain is wise to take.

“Are you sure that it’s safe?” You ask, trying to keep your voice level but also gentle, non-accusatory. “Or that it’s actually going to bring us closer to Bebbanburg?”

Woo starts walking again without answering you, and you don’t miss the way the ground cracks beneath his boot, fist clenched at his side. It tears through the trail, forming a foot-long divide between you and the two men in front of you. If Woo notices what he’s created, he doesn’t show it, simply keeps storming down the mountain.

Looks like there isn’t much of a discussion to be had. You cast a wary glance over at San. He shrugs, grip tightening on the horse’s reign as he too moves forward, although you note the way his jaw sets firm. He’s aware it’s not the best idea, but he’s also not about to contest Woo right now, especially not in an act of defiance against you.

You sigh, although you put up no form of protest. This is who you are to them now. A ghost, your voice a whisper in the wind. You are there to get them the money, just as you were prior, only now all the bridges of understanding you’d built have crumbled.

Swallowing your worry, you step over the divide before trailing after them. So be it, this is what you deserve.

“Woo, we should turn back,” Seonghwa says, the fourth time he’s voiced his concern in the last hour.

This time, Woo answers him with a grunt rather than any assurance or rebuttal. He likely doesn’t feel inclined to try and convince Seonghwa that the trail is safe - again - or perhaps it’s finally dawning on him that this wasn’t a good idea.

The trail has become even more narrow and steep, and San fights to keep the horse at bay behind you, gravel slipping and sliding beneath the animal's hooves as it whinnies in protest.

Hours have passed since you first began your descent, and the sun has become a simmering ember over the horizon, darkness falling heavy around you. The tree’s are barren with blackened bark, twisting and curling around the trail. The wind blows between them sharply, a high whistling noise in contrast to the peaceful rustle of leaves along the main path.

Night is falling, and with the trail’s steep incline and the wind’s unyielding chill, there is no option to set up camp. You either continue to trudge on through the darkness and further into the unknown, or waste a few hours heading back towards comfortable safety. You believe it’s obvious which option is more wise.

The horse slides down behind you, letting out a high-pitched whine as the rocks slide around its hooves. “Shit,” San mutters, clutching onto its reins to try and hold the animal in place, despite it weighing almost a ton and having the ability to crush him.

This isn’t going to work. Should you even make it to Bebbanburg by morning, you’ll be exhausted from the night-long journey and forced to waste the day with rest. If you’re bound to waste time anyway, there’s no sense in risking the loss of another horse and having San crushed in the process.

“Woo, we need to turn around,” you say. It’s the second time you’ve spoken all day, and your voice is a bit raspy from lack of use. When Woo doesn’t respond, you clear your throat. “This isn’t a good trail. San’s about to get crushed by the horse and there’s nowhere to set up camp for the night. We don’t even know for sure if this is taking us to Bebbanburg, let’s just go back to the main path.”

“You don’t get a say, Libaiyan,” he replies, ignoring both you and your reasoning as he does not even bother to cast a glance over his shoulder.

Frustration settles within your chest and you swallow down a haughty response. He’s being stubborn, but not only that, he’s being stupid. Woo has to know by now that this wasn’t a good idea, but if it means agreeing with you on anything, he’ll let his pride drive the lot of you into the ground.

“This has nothing to do with me, it’s common sense,” you reply. You’re aware that picking a fight is not the best course of action, but you also have no interest in wandering in this cold and barren forest all night due to an elemental’s pride. “Don’t make everyone suffer because of your hatred for me.”

“Right, because I am the one making everyone suffer. That’s rich,” Woo spits, finally stopping in his pursuit down the mountain, turning to face you. His eyes scream bloody murder.

“That’s not what I meant,” you sigh. “What I was saying was-”

“What you were saying was that you think you still have any sort of influence here,” Woo cuts you off, taking a few steps up the trail, gravel sliding beneath his boots as he places himself in front of you. When he speaks he presses a finger to your chest, accusatory. “Let me make this clear. We are delivering you, we are getting our money, and then we are done. You aren’t a person, you aren’t a part of our party. You are cargo, you are baggage, you are a burden. You have no say.”

“Fine,” you say through gritted teeth, fist clenched at your side as you swallow down your pride. You remind yourself that he is hurt, that he is also the man who bore his soul to you at the fire only days ago. It’s hard to do this when he looks at you as if you are something vile stuck to the bottom of his shoe. “Then at least listen to Seonghwa when he tells you the exact same thing.”

Woo scowls, huffing as he turns to face Seonghwa. When he speaks his tone isn’t angry, but it’s certainly frustrated. “You really want to go back?”

Seonghwa's eyes widen, only slightly, as his gaze flickers between yours and Woo’s. It’s the first time he’s met your eye over the last two days, and it almost immediately darts away. He swallows hard.

“No. We can keep going,” Seonghwa answers, and amidst your internal groaning of annoyance, there is also hurt. Seonghwa wants to go back, he knows it’s the better option, and yet he only agrees with Woo because he cannot bear doing so with you.

Woo blinks at him, surprised, before nodding. “Alright then,” he says, turning back towards the trail. “We keep moving.”

“No,” a voice protests, and this time it is neither Seonghwa or yourself, but San. One of his hands grips the horse’s reins tightly, while the other is wrapped around the animal's neck, still trying to prevent it from slipping. “Don’t be petty. She’s right, we’re going back.”

Woo’s gaze darkens, and you aren’t sure if it’s from San calling him petty, or stating that you’re right. Likely both.

“We’re not being petty,” he argues, spitting the word out like a curse. “I think we have fair reason not to trust her judgement.”

“Then trust mine,” San says lowly. Getting a better look at him, he appears worn. A dark circle of tiredness having creeped beneath his eye, he breathes heavily, grip shaking around the reins in his hand. He’s been at this for hours, and it appears his patience has begun to waver. “You’re being a fool, and this is ridiculous. It’s my money on the line here, I think you should remember that.”

“Of course we’re aware of that, but-” Woo starts.

“Then don’t make the journey harder than it needs to be,” San cuts him off, tone cold. “Don’t make borderline moronic decisions that have me carrying a horse down a mountain, or that would have us stranded for the night. This isn’t your battle to fight.”

“You aren’t the only one she hurt. You think Seonghwa doesn’t feel-”

“I wasn’t talking to Seonghwa.”

The silence that hangs in the air is glacial. Frozen in time as the seconds tick by, unmoving as neither of the two men budge. Woo’s jaw is set firm, twitching as if he wants to say something, but does not permit himself to let the words out.

It dawns on you that San does not know how deeply you hurt Woo. He does not know the depths of his past, the horrors of orphanage. Woo had made you swear not to tell him.

It’s immediate, how the guilt settles in your gut, and you try to remedy the situation.

“Maybe we should take a step back and-” you start, but Woo cuts you off.

“Butt out, Libaiyan,” Woo says immediately, even if he does not look at you. “This isn’t your business.”

“It is her business,” San replies. “She’s just as wrapped up in this as the rest of us are.”

At this Woo’s gaze finally does shift, into a look of complete and utter bewilderment. He baulks at the swordsman, eyebrows drawing together in disbelief as his mouth drops open, stunned. “Are you actually defending her right now?”

“I’m not defending her, I’m just saying you aren’t thinking clearly about this-”

“Oh, of course. I’m not thinking clearly! Me, not the guy who’s taking the side of a woman who scammed him out of a fortune. Naturally, I’m the problem-”

“You guys…” Seonghwa starts, too quiet to be heard over their arguing, as both Woo and San’s voice begins to raise louder.

“It was my fortune to be scammed out of,” San cuts back, rolling his good eye as he lets out a groan of frustration. You aren’t sure if you’ve ever seen San lose his temper like this, but the height of his voice matches Woo’s, as does his ferocity. “For the sake of the god’s Woo, if I - the one with his life on the line - can put my feelings aside to finish the journey, you think you’d be able to.”

Woo laughs at this, a cold sound. “I think you aren’t putting your feelings aside, and that’s the problem. Being a little blinded, are we?”

San scowls at this, giving him an incredulous stare. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You guys,” Seonghwa starts again, and this time his voice is louder. Hand falling to his side, you notice his fingers grip around the knife on his belt, and you frown. However, his words go ignored.

“Oh, you know what I’m talking about,” Woo answers, tone dripping with annoyance. “You think I didn’t notice the longing, puppy-dog glances in her direction since the sand village? Then she betrays us and you’re smiling at her, San. Honestly.”

San’s eye widens as his jaw drops open, stupefied. “For fucks sake Woo, you’re being jealous? Right now? Are you kidding me?”

“Right, because I’m the one who’s delusional-”

“You guys!” Seonghwa finally shouts, and the two men momentarily break out of their argument. Seonghwa pulls the knife from his belt, sinking down to crouch lower onto his knees, eyes darting between the trees above you.

Sensing the urgency in Seonghwa’s demeanor, both Woo and San silence themselves, matching the empath as they crouch downward. You follow suit, an eerie chill passing through you as Seonghwa presses a finger to his lips. The forest is quiet, as the only sound is the wind as it blows between the trees and their blackened bark.

“What is it, Hwa?” San asks quietly, casting him a wary glance. His hand extends up to reach his blade fastened along his back, fingers clutched around the hilt.

“Do you hear that?” Seonghwa whispers, and you tune your ears into the forest’s sound, listening closer. A few minutes pass by in silence, when you admit to yourself that no, you don’t hear anything.

You’re about to tell this to Seonghwa when you still do not hear it, but rather see it. Something big, black, and scaly slithering along the tree a few paces to your left, blending into the bark so that if you weren’t on guard, you never would have seen it.

It looks almost exactly like a branch blowing in the wind, as it ripples along the barren wood, a shadow in the night’s darkness. Creeping its way up along the trunk, it extends itself to reach another tree, traveling between them. It’s only now that you see it that you can hear what Seonghwa had noticed, the slick noise of the beast traveling, scratchy against the wood.

Out of the corner of your eye, another branch moves.

Twisting to face it, you watch as another one of the monsters creeps along the trees. You cannot see its eyes nor its fangs, but it’s clearly some sort of serpent. A few feet long and thick as rope.

You swallow the frightened gasp that settles itself in your throat as another branch to your right moves. Then to your left, and another beside it. They’re everywhere.

When you bring your gaze down, you don’t realize what you’re searching for until you meet Seonghwa’s eyes. This time he does not look away from you, swallowing hard as he holds your gaze. His lips purse together. He’s afraid.

“We’re being hunted,” he whispers, and Woo nods, looking up and around just as you had. Gaze darting back and forth, he’s tallying them, you realize.

“Eight of them, by my count,” the elemental says, keeping his voice low. “What are they?”

“Basilisks,” San answers, followed by an unsteady breath.

Woo shakes his head. “They’re too small.”

“Children. That's why there’s so many of them.”

Woo nods, jaw tense as he flexes his fists in and out, quelching the small flames that continue to reappear within his palms. You don’t think he can help it.

“What do we do?” Seonghwa asks, and San considers the question for a long moment before responding.

“If they’re Basilisks that means they’re also blind,” he whispers, nodding to himself as he speaks. “If we’re quiet enough, we should be able to flee.”

Sharing a glance between the four of you, one that shares a mutual understanding of caution, Seonghwa takes a step forward. The rocks within the gravel of the trail protest, a crunching noise echoing from beneath his boot. The Basilisks begin to slither a little faster, and Seonghwa winces.

He corrects his next step, the crunch of the gravel much softer as he makes his way down the trail. To go up now is futile, as attempting to maintain silence will be much harder if fighting against the falling rocks.

Woo takes a step after him, light on his feet, with you following suit. You extend a hand out to San, who accepts it, his other still gripping the horse’s reins.

Turning his attention to the horse, he bows his head, ushering it to follow him. However, without an audible order, the animal doesn’t understand the command, huffing in annoyance at its reins being tugged.

San winces at the loudness of the noise, looking over his shoulder at both Woo and San. “Do we leave him?” He asks, voice so hushed it’s barely audible.

After a moment they nod. San drops the reins, and the group of you tread slowly down the hill. The swordsman keeps his hand out-stretched to calm the horse, hoping it won’t make another noise.

Fortunately, it doesn’t.

Unfortunately, it follows instead.

The rocks of the trail crunching loudly beneath its hooves, it follows after you, before beginning to lose its footing as the gravel slides. The horse lets out a loud sort of squealing noise, before slipping down the trail.

It would have crushed you, if it weren’t for the three black blurs that came darting from the forest’s thicket. Each of them lodging itself within the horse - one in its neck and the other two within its torso - the animal goes stumbling into the bush, letting out a loud whine of pain that makes your gut clench.

It’s quickly quelled by fear, however, as loud hissing noises emit from all around you, the trees shaking as all of the snakes begin to move. Alerted by the noise, you watch as many of their tails stick up, a rattling motion.

You don’t know much about snakes, but it doesn’t take a genius to know that that can’t be a good sign.

San and Seonghwa both immediately begin to run, instinct taking over where yours appear to be lacking. Woo swears beneath his breath. “For fuck’s sake,” he mutters, reaching out to grab your arm, grip firm. “Run!”

Pulling you after him, you both take off down the trail, the sound of slithering following close behind. A black dart flies over your shoulder, and you can feel the air rush passed as the beast narrowly misses your ear.

“They can pounce!” You yell, dread curling within your stomach. “We can’t outrun them!”

None of the men respond, but Woo does look over his shoulder, before releasing your arm and holding his own out steady behind him. Maintaining his pace, he summons a ball of flame before throwing it at one of the Basilisks, which appears to be nothing more than a black line zig-zagging across the trail.

However, instead of hitting the monster, Woo’s ball of fire is cut off.

By the beast's own flame.

The snake’s jaw falls open, sharp fangs glinting even in the darkness, and from its gaping mouth comes a large stream of burning orange heat. The flames collide with Woo’s own, diminishing it.

“Oh, shit,” Woo says, eyes wide. He turns forward again, shouting towards Seonghwa and San. “They may be blind, but they sure as hell aren’t Basilisks!”

San casts a glance over his shoulder to see what Woo is talking about, letting out a gasp as the beast begins to spit another stream of flame towards you. Woo blows it back in the opposite direction with a gust of wind, but the snake merely slithers through the flame, letting out an agitated hiss as it remains unscathed.

“Fuck, they’re fire-proof too!” Woo observes, quickening his pace as his adrenaline sparks higher. There appears to be fear in his eyes, genuine, an emotion you aren’t sure you’ve ever seen on him. “What should we do?”

“She’s right, we can’t outrun them,” San answers, hand drifting to the hilt of his blade. His sprint suddenly settles into a jog, and you nearly crash into him, stumbling as you maneuver yourself around him. “We only have one choice.”

When San unsheathes his sword, he twists around with it. A blur of motion, one of the snakes pounces forward, flying towards him with its mouth open and long fangs on display. It moves at lightning speed, like a black shadow whirling through the air.

San slices it clean in half.

The snake falls into two separate pieces on both sides of him, a thick black liquid oozing from where its body had been severed. It smells rancid, like something rotten as it spreads across the forest floor, acidic as the pebbles begin to sizzle and melt.

The other snakes chasing you begin to slow, as they dart themselves into the forest. You can still see them, as none of the bushes or trees have leaves to hide them. The blackened bark suddenly makes sense, the area over-run by the fire-breathing monsters.

You’d think it would have been nice for someone to have put a sign before the trail, warning of a flame-spitting-snake-monster breeding ground. Then again, perhaps nobody has survived to make note of one. Your stomach sinks at the thought.

A large stream of fire flies towards San, and the swordsman narrowly dodges it by twisting it to the left. Another blast of flame shoots out at him, and San ducks, the flames an inch away from searing his scalp.

San grits his teeth in annoyance, gaze darting around at the many snakes surrounding you. “Woo, can you ensure their flames won’t hit me?”

“But there’s so many of them-” Woo protests, although he’s quickly silenced by San casting him a glare, one that says: “I wasn’t asking if it would be easy.”

The elemental sighs, before shaking out his hands and shoulders. “I can do it.”

“Good,” San states, before bending low on his knees, standing light on the balls of his feet. Battle stance. “Then let’s work.”

When San begins to move, all the praise that Seonghwa had been spewing about him is immediately proven wrong.

It never even came close to illustrating the man’s skill.

San moves with an uncontested quickness, traveling through the air as if he were a part of it. His sword swings and twists as if it were its own being, an object cursed with a vengeance to destroy anything within its path.

The snakes fly at San from every angle, attracted to the sound of gravel crunching beneath him as he moves and parries between their attacks.

A snake springs from behind him, and San twists to avoid it without even a glance backwards. Meanwhile, another comes at him from his left, and despite being in the middle of a complicated twisting maneuver away from the other, he manages to swing at the beast through the motion.

He slices yet another snake in half, as Woo preoccupies himself with preventing San from having to also worry about their flames. The elemental keeps his hands outstretched, eyes darting between the monsters, watching for when their jaws drop open. It’s at lightning speed, reflexes nearly cat-like as Woo redirects their fire away from San. The monsters hiss in displeasure.

The sound of hissing slowly dies out as both the elemental and the swordsman master the beasts. San takes them down one by one, the black corrosive liquid in replacement of blood oozing thick across the forest floor.

You simply watch. Seonghwa stands next to you, rendered equally as useless considering his bow and arrows were left with the horse. Besides, you imagine that shooting one of these beasts would be nearly impossible, anyway. You consider trying to help with your own sword, but you’d likely be getting more in San’s way than actually assisting him.

You cast Seonghwa a glance, although he doesn’t meet it. His eyes are focused on San, jaw dropped open ever so slightly, watching the swordsman fight in awe. He does not look away.

San slays the final snake, breathing heavily as the monster tumbles to the ground. It looks far less menacing now, immobile and coated in black ooze and dirt.

“Let’s go get our supplies,” San says quietly, holding no sort of pride or glory at the impossibility he accomplished. He just looks tired.

In silent agreement, the four of you begin to walk back up the path. Towards their horse, which is surely dead. Another gone, and although you feel for them, you’re at the very least glad that this time you are not at fault.

San stops.

Unprepared, you run into him, bumping your nose against his back. “What are you-” you start, but he hushes you, gaze flickering back into the forest.

“Are there more?” Woo asks, tone dreadful.

San doesn’t respond right away, he doesn’t have to. The sound of something moving, slithering through the forest is immediately apparent, rocks either being crushed or slipping down the hill.

You look around, searching for the beasts. You catch sight of movement, something black and massive twisting through the bush, before it disappears behind a tree-trunk. Out of the corner of your eye, you spot another, slithering within the ashen underbrush. They appear bigger than the last, far longer as you cannot see their full length, body a couple feet thicker in girth.

“How many are there?” You ask, trying to keep your voice low.

“Not many,” San answers, although for some reason he sounds more devastated than relieved by the fact. “Only one.”

You cast him a confused glance, prepared to point out the third beast you see slithering behind a rock.

“Fuck,” Woo whispers, the realization dawning on him just as it does you.

The first beast you saw that had crawled up the tree… it has also slithered itself around one of its branches, before connecting itself to the next one.

The second beast that slithered through the underbrush, its torso does not disappear behind a blackened bush, it continues past it. All the way to the third beast, its body twisted around a rock before curling up yet another tree stump.

There are not many beasts, but one. One massive snake that’s body has completely surrounded you. It hangs across the trees, trails through the underbrush, curls around rocks and stumps alike. Black scales slithering in the shadows, it’s everywhere.

“Where is its head?” Seonghwa asks, looking up into the trees, eyes full of worry.

The silence in response to his question is a testament to how nobody is sure of the answer. Woo crouches down, grabbing a large rock. He weighs it in his hand, as if to deem whether or not it is heavy enough, then brings his arm back and throws it down the trail.

It sails a solid distance away from you before falling back down. Skipping a few times, it loudly crashes against different small stones with each of its jumps.

Less than a few seconds after it settles, the rock is devoured whole.

The beast appears in a whirl of darkness and motion. Flying down from the tree-tops, its open mouth - which is a few feet long, by your estimate - contains massive fangs that drip with a white venom as it swallows the rock.

The monstrous snake hisses with satisfaction, pink and ribbed tongue flickering out in front of it. It lets out a breath, and the faintest hint of flames flare out from the monster’s nose. The beast's black tail continues to fall down from the tree’s, and you can hear it moving all around you. Tens, maybe even hundreds of feet long.

It begins to slither along the ground, making zig-zags along the trail as it surrounds the smaller snakes that San had slain. It stops in front of one, nudging its body with the tip of its nose, to which the smaller snake flops over lifelessly

“Shit,” San whispers, gaze flickering between the massive snake and the ones he’d discerned to be children. “That’s mom.”

The snake continues to hiss, becoming increasingly agitated as it lets out a strange, mangled growling noise. It’s of a higher-pitch, breaking slightly, and the beast lets out a blast of fire that scorches the area around it. It’s upset, and part of yourself - the tiny fraction that is not consumed by fear - feels almost guilty.

Then it turns to face you.

Its face is difficult to make out. Features indiscernible as its scales are the colour of midnight, a stark contrast to the bold pink of its gaping mouth. The white venom from its fangs continues to drip onto the soil, equally as corrosive as its blood.

What’s most terrifying however, are its eyes. Gleaming rubies glowing within the darkness, they shine a bright red. They’re also cloudy, like fogged windows, a testament to the monster’s blindness. Even though it looks in your direction, you know it cannot see you.

And yet, it doesn’t move. It’s face hovers a couple dozen feet before you, tongue flickering. It huffs once more, a bright orange flare puffing from its mouth.

“It must be some sort of Basilisk and Dragon hybrid. Both rare, both deadly,” San whispers, expression grim.

Woo nods to himself, lip briefly curving upwards. “A Drasilisk,” he offers.

San gives him a look of disbelief. “What is wrong with you?”

“Would both of you quit it,” Seonghwa says, voice a panicked whisper. His gaze flickers between them and the beast, before swallowing hard. “What are we going to do?”

“It’s blind. So if we don’t make any noise, it’ll leave eventually,” San answers, and Seonghwa nods. It seems plausible enough of a plan, reasonable enough to work. Besides, your content with nobody having to try and fight this thing, whether that be you or any of them.

The snake curls upwards from its place on the ground, coils forming around itself as it hovers in the air, looming tall. It lets out another broken whine, this time louder. Amplified by the mountains, it echoes all around you. It resembles a woman screaming.

The beast flares its nostrils, the action accompanied by a quiet puffing sound. It’s not the same as it had done before, accompanied by fire and annoyance. Instead, it sounds like an inhale rather than an exhale.

The beast continues to make the sound over and over again, nose outstretched as it twists back and forth, almost as if it’s… sniffing.

It begins to move towards you, slithering slowly, following your scent down the trail as it creeps closer.

“You think just standing here is a good idea now?” Woo asks, a ball of flame forming within his hand. It’s useless, considering the beast is fireproof, but perhaps it provides him comfort. A false sense of control.

“No,” San says plainly, rolling up his sleeves before unsheathing his sword. “Ready to go again?”

“You aren’t seriously thinking of fighting that thing are you?” You ask, because it sounds ridiculous. The smaller snakes in relation to this monster is like comparing a puppy to a wolf. It’s a death mission, suicide.

“Not much of a choice,” San breathes, before rushing towards the beast. Woo lets out a shout of panicked protest, and while his intentions may have been good, the beast perks up in acknowledgement of their presence.

It lets out a vicious, blood curdling roar - a sound you never thought could come from a snake - and with it comes a blast of fire. Like an avalanche of flame, red and orange flurries tumble down the trail. Even from a fair distance away you can feel its heat immediately, and San only manages to avoid the flame by diving out into the bush.

Even so, it catches his ankle, the flames alighting his trousers. He extinguishes them with a handful of dirt, casting an annoyed glare in Woo’s direction. “Thanks a lot,” he says, both in relation to the elemental having alerted the beast and failing to redirect its flame.

Woo doesn’t apologize, but he does raise his hands in front of himself, prepared for the beast's next blast of fire.

San rushes towards the monster once more, the necessity for speed obvious, as its gaping mouth extends to where he’d just been standing. The beast instead collides with the ground, venom squirting into where its fangs sink into the soil.

San’s good eye widens, as if realizing how close he’s dancing on death’s doorstep.

While his attention is preoccupied, the beast's long torso swings towards him. The monster commands its body like a whip, extending itself to meet the swordsman with an alarming amount of force. From the sheer power of the strike, you fear he may fall.

However, when it pulls its body back, San isn’t on the ground. He’s not standing either. In fact, he’s not anywhere.

Your brows furrow into confusion. Focusing your gaze, you search for San amongst the darkness, unable to find him where he’d previously stood. As if he’d been wiped from existence.

Then you notice a flash of colour amidst the beast's jet-black body.

San clings to the monster as it raises itself into the air. Arms held around its torso, he holds onto it with sheer core-strength, face twisted with the necessary effort.

He caught it. Somehow, he managed to catch the three-foot wide whip hurtling towards him.

Seonghwa cheers in a rally of support, and you nearly clap in amazement, as well as disbelief.

San pulls himself up so that he is sitting on top of the beast, legs wrapped around its torso as if he were riding it. With a hand clutching onto one of its scales, he uses the other to lift his sword into the air. The sword gleams in the moonlight as he raises it high, like a knight from a storybook as he brings it down, triumphant and glorious.

The sword bounces off of the beast's scales.

San’s brows furrows, and instead of a plunging motion, he attempts to slice the beast as he had the smaller ones. Once again, the sword merely rebounds off of the monster, useless.

The snake lets out a roar of annoyance, becoming aware of the nuisance that has attached himself to its back. It launches itself upwards, before immediately descending down, the rest of its body following in a peristaltic motion. The ripple ascends towards San like a massive wave, and the swordsman’s face settles into an expression that says nothing less than “Fuck me”.

When the snake’s body launches upward beneath him, San attempts to hold on, but the effort is futile. The scale beneath his hand rips off, and he is sent flying. Losing the grip on his sword, it goes soaring out into the forest, disappearing into the underbrush.

If there is any sort of optimism to be found in the situation, it’s in that at least San is sent hurtling towards you rather than in the opposite direction. He crashes into the ground, catching himself on his forearms, bare skin shredded as he slides along the trail’s rocks and gravel.

Wincing, he does not allow himself to dwell on the pain, as he shakily pushes himself back up and unto his feet. His arms are stained pure red, the layer of flesh wiped clean off. He swears beneath his breath, before yanking both of his sleeves down as if he cannot stand to look at it.

“Well,” Woo says, a look of disgust on his face as blood begins to soak through the fabric of San’s tunic. “Are you done?”

“I’m done,” San hisses through gritted teeth.

Woo nods. “We run then?”

San looks over to the snake, who lets out a loud hissing noise as more fire sparks from its nose. “Yeah,” he breathes. “We run.”

The four of you take off down the trail. Keeping one eye over your shoulder, the beast turns to face you all, letting out a violent roar that shakes the ground. It opens its mouth, another avalanche of flame tumbling down the trail.

Woo twists around, running backwards as he redirects the flames into the forest. Sweat has begun to bead on his brow, and you believe it has little to do with the actual warmth of the fire, but instead the effort required in combating it.

This isn’t going to work. You can’t outrun this monster, just as San can’t slay it and Woo cannot hold off its flames forever.

You’re going to die.

The realization is not as startling as it should be. After all, the brink of death is a place you’ve found yourself numerous times the last few weeks. Beginning at outrunning the black-clad men in your castle, followed by about a dozen more deadly challenges since.

Which means there must be a way to maneuver your way out of this one too. What you need is a change in perspective, in strategy.

You cast another glance over your shoulder, the snake only a dozen feet from you now, long body winding back and forth behind it.

“We need to split up!” You shout, to which Woo shoots you an incredulous glance.

“So it can pick us off one by one?” He retorts, appalled by the idea. You shake your head.

“It can’t see us,” you say, words tumbling immediately from your lips as you think of them. “If noise starts coming from different directions, we may be able to confuse it.”

He opens his mouth, prepared to shut down the idea, but pauses. His eyes light up in realization that it actually might work, before filling with annoyance at remembering that the idea is also yours.

“Dammit, Libaiyan,” Woo mutters, turning around once again to redirect the monster’s flames. He groans in frustration. “Fine. We split up.”

“We all run into the forest on the count of three,” San chimes in. He casts a glance at each of you in turn. You, Woo, and Seonghwa all give a nod of affirmation, and San swallows hard, breathing heavy as he speaks.

“Three…two…one!”

The four of you split off from one another. You and Woo both sprint to your right, while San and Seonghwa turn left. You run through the forest, no trails to be found, narrowly avoiding the sharp branches of the ashen trees.

You can hear the snake behind you, the beast also having chosen to go right rather than left.“Great,” you think pleasantly, taking a sharp twist westward as the hissing grows louder behind you. “Just my luck.”

Another blast of fire erupts from its mouth, and you dart behind a tree to avoid being swallowed by its flames. The large glowing blaze emerges from both sides of you, and the heat is scolding against your skin, burning even if not directly touching you.

The monster appears beside you, lightning-fast as it continues in the direction you had been running. It passes right by you, continuing down further into the forest.

You let out a sigh of relief, as the beast continues to move further and further away, its head becoming a small - well, smaller - shadow in the distance. Its body continues to move beside you, the hundreds of feet winding down like the string of a fishing pole. Careful to keep your footsteps quiet as you walk, you tread with caution back towards the trail.

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Woo doing the same a few trees away. You catch his eye, and he gives a curt nod, before heading over to you.

“Is it really gone… Just like that?” You ask, astounded by the ease of your escape.

“Looks like it,” Woo replies, although the unease in his tone sounds like he’s not quite convinced himself.

However, he does continue moving forward, and you jog to catch up behind him. You don’t say anything, not wanting to push your luck. It appears that at least for the moment, he’s forgotten to be hostile towards you, and you’re more than willing to soak in a rare fraction of peace in the man’s presence.

It’s after less than a minute of walking - the trail appearing just a few metres in front of you - that Woo stops. You come to a halt, raising an eyebrow. He doesn’t notice, gaze fixated on the tail that continues to wind down.

“Is it just me,” he starts, before swallowing hard. “Or is it moving faster?”

You narrow your eyes, as it’s a bit difficult to tell. The scales create almost an illusion against the blackness of the ash, making it hard to notice that it’s moving at all, but you think he’s right. It is moving faster, which is strange considering there isn’t actually anything for it to be chasing, so why speed up?

The answer becomes obvious when both you and Woo look back into the shadows of the forest, only to see a dark, twisted silhouette reappearing in the distance.

The beast let’s out another harrowing roar, fire once again exploding out from its gaping mouth. The trees there are not as barren as the ones closest to the trail, and you watch as the leaves catch fire around it, casting a smouldering glow that expands as more begin to burn. It’s ominous, like hundreds of small candles being lit all at once, and your breath dies in your throat.

You feel a hand wrap around your forearm, yanking you sideways. You stumble as Woo pulls you into him, his back pressed against the bark of a tree, hiding the both of you. His eyes are wide, but surprisingly calm. Alert but poised, as he listens as the sound of the beast’s hissing becomes closer.

Terror seizes within your chest. At least when you were running you had something to focus on, to keep your mind busy. Sitting here as the beast moves closer makes you feel helpless, like predator and prey.

Woo suddenly places his hand over your mouth, and you realize that your breathing has become heavy. Not out of tiredness, but panic. You glance up at him, although he does not meet your eyes, his own gaze trained forward. Avoidant as his jaw is set firm in annoyance.

He detests you, and yet here you are, pressed against his chest with his fingers settled on your lips. He wants you dead, and yet it appears a part of him will not let it happen so easily.

Even now, Woo is not as cruel as he believes himself to be, and you feel almost sorry for him.

The monster roars once more, and this time sparks billow to your left, the two of you finally within the beast’s reach. The sound of its scales sliding through the dirt becomes softer, as the monster begins to slow down in its pursuit. You note the familiar noise of puffing air, as the beast catches a whiff of your scent.

Woo’s eyes fall shut and his grip on your arm tightens, as if he needs something to hold onto.

For that something to be you, this really may be the end.

Your eyes still do not leave Woo’s own, even if his are not open to meet yours. When you speak you keep your voice low, so quiet that rather than hearing your words, he can likely better feel them with his fingers against your lips.

“I’m sorry,” you say. Woo’s eyes open at this, meeting your own. He does not smile. He neither nods nor whispers any form of acceptance.

Yet, he also does not deny them. At the very least, you know that he heard you in your sincerity, and perhaps that is the most that you can ask for.

Closing your eyes, you place your hand on his tunic, fingers clutching onto its fabric. The beast’s sniffing has become louder, only a dozen feet off by your estimate.

“Hey!” A voice suddenly shouts. It’s far off, much deeper into the forest. When he shouts again, you can tell that it’s San. “Hey! Over here!”

The beast lets out a loud roar and fire engulfs the tree you’re hiding behind, flames rolling out on both sides of you. Woo pulls you further into him, away from the heat that nips at your exposed flesh, causing you to wince.

Then the monster takes off, deeper down into the forest, leaving the two of you behind. Woo removes his hand from your lips, and the two of you take a moment to breathe, heavy and relieved.

This relief is short-lived, however, as Woo’s eyes widen. Realization dawning on him.

He scowls, shoving you off of him. “That dumbass,” he spits, before taking off into the forest, following the monster that has now shifted its pursuit onto San. Chasing after him, you follow the monster's tail as it winds and twists through the trees, moving at rapid speed.

When you finally catch up to them all, the forest has been replaced by some sort of clearing, the wind fierce and ground coated in jagged rock rather than dirt. Looking ahead, you can see that past the monster pursuing both San and Seonghwa is… nothing.

The rocky landscape cuts off, and past it all you can see is empty space, followed by the next mountain over in the distance. A cliff. Your heart pounds faster.

Woo appears to notice the sudden drop the same time you do, his pace quickening as he summons a ball of fire in his hand, throwing it towards the beast. It does nothing, of course, merely bouncing off of its scales. It doesn’t even grab the monster’s attention, its focus trained solely on the two men in front of it, not even noticing that you and Woo have nearly closed the distance.

Seonghwa’s hand slips into San’s, and both he and the swordsman share a look. Nothing is said, but as they both nod, there seems to be some sort of understanding made between them.

Together they run off the edge of the cliff.

“No!” Woo shouts, although it’s more of a horrified shriek than anything else. The monster twists away from the cliff’s edge, not interested in following suit in their plummet.

It all happens in the split of a second, as Woo grabs your hand and drags you with him. He makes massive leaps and bounds, desperate as he pulls the two of you past the beast.

Not only past the beast, but down the make-shift pathway created by its absence and over the cliff’s edge.

The moment your feet leave the comfortable firmness of the ground, dangling in the weightless state of limbo between the earth and sky, you decide that this is a feeling that you never want to experience again. Fortunately, it appears you won’t have to worry about this, considering you won’t be living much longer.

Your stomach plummets as you do, tunic billowing out behind you as you fall through the air. Looking down, your eyes sting from the wind blowing upwards, although you force yourself to keep them open.

You see San and Seonghwa falling beneath you, a solid distance away but also not yet having splattered against the ground.

Or…not ground…water.

Water.

A massive lake expanding from the cliff's edge all the way to the next mountain. A beautiful blue lake, reflecting the light of the moon against the night sky, glassy in its stillness.

It’s not ground beneath you, it’s water.

Despite yourself, you laugh. A joyous, disbelieving laugh at the sheer luck of it.

What are the odds that out of all the cliff’s you could have thrown yourself off of, it would have been one with a deep and expansive stash of water beneath it? Next to none, and you can’t help but smile.

Woo drops your hand, extending both of his own out in front of him and down towards the lake. Clenching both of his hands into fists, you watch as the lake breaks its stillness by beginning to ripple. Good, otherwise you may as well be falling onto cement. He then pulls his arms upward, and the water rapidly rises, minimizing the fall by at least fifty extra feet.

Woo manages the maneuver just in time, as both San and Seonghwa crash into the lake a mere second before yourselves.

The water is a blast of cold, engulfing you as its chill settles deep within your bones. You made sure to land feet-first with your body tight. You remember years ago Mingi telling you that was the right way to land, the only way, if you had hope of not compressing your spine or breaking any bones. This was after he’d had water training during his earlier years in the kingdom guard. He’d been gone for a week near Dildysus’ shores, coming back tanned and with a dozen stories to tell. At the time you were envious of not being able to go with him, pettily treating him with a cold shoulder and avoidant gaze. Now you’re just eternally grateful he took the time to share with you some of what he’d learnt.

You open your eyes and are greeted with what is mostly darkness, although you can make out the bubbles of your breath and a few dark blurs that you sincerely hope are the boys. Kicking upwards, the bottoms of your feet burn, ankle aching in a way that you’re sure it’s at least minorly fractured.

With the severity you could have had in your injuries, you can’t bring yourself to fret over it.

Face breaking past the surface, you take in a massive gulp of air, the wind having been completely knocked from your lungs upon impact. San and Seonghwa both turn to face you, Woo popping up soon afterwards. None of you speak right away, taking a moment to catch your breath, to take in the inconceivable fact that you all are still alive.

Eventually, San speaks, motioning behind you. “Make our way over there?”

None of you respond, it’s not necessary. Instead you simply set in motion towards the shoreline, to safety at last.

When you reach the shore, it’s on your stomach compared to your feet. Dragging yourself up onto the beach - which is more dirt than sand - you pull the rest of your body up by your elbows.

The couple of miles you had to swim felt a lot longer than it looked, even with Woo creating a current to help carry you the length of the distance.

San is a little ways ahead of you, pulling himself up into a seated position before flopping down onto his back, chest heaving as he looks up at the stars.

You hear Seonghwa cough from behind, wet and hoarse in a way that you can tell he’s choking on water that he swallowed. You cast him a glance, the empath sitting slumped on his knees, Woo giving him a firm slap to the back that causes him to cough up even more water.

You lay down, sand embedding itself in your hair and rough along your cheek, but you can’t hold yourself up any longer.

What a sorry bunch the lot of you are.

“All our supplies,” Woo says eventually, defeated as he lets out a guttural cough before continuing. “It’s all gone. Our tents, our horse, our food, our sleeping bags, everything. Gone.”

“Just be thankful we’re alive,” San retorts bluntly.

You know that’s not the best thing to say at the moment, and you brace yourself for Woo’s response.

“Oh, sure. All thanks to you, right?” Woo says, glowering. “What were you thinking, shouting after it like that?”

“I was thinking about saving your life,” San responds, tone far more calm than Woo’s.

“My life didn’t need saving.”

“It definitely did,” you think, but you know better than to interject yourself into this.

“What you were doing was almost getting yourself killed,” Woo continues, voice rising with every word. “I mean really, what was the plan San? You threw yourself - no, sorry, you and Seonghwa - off a cliff! You think that’s some kind of heroic gesture, that I’d be thankful?”

San does not respond.

“No, seriously. Tell me, San, because that has to be the stupidest thing you’ve ever done, and I’m at a loss at what you were possibly thinking.”

San does not look away from the sky as he speaks. “Would you two go check if there’s any place we can take shelter around here? I need to speak with Woo alone.”

Seonghwa and you share a nervous glance. He purses his lips together, worried about what may be said and what that may mean for the rest of your journey.

Although, this isn’t either of your business, and you both awkwardly rise to your feet. “Alright,” Seonghwa says, the two of you beginning to make your way down the beach.

You try to catch his eye again, to see what he may be thinking about all of this, but he keeps his gaze straight ahead. The two of you don’t talk again even as you make it past the beach, down the open field and into the forest’s thicket.

San waits until the two of you are completely out of sight, having disappeared from the shoreline and into the woods. He still does not look at Woo, does not want to see his angry furrowed brows, his tense jaw and clenched fists. The stars are easier to speak to.

He isn’t sure where he gains the strength to say it. Perhaps there is something about surviving a plummet to your death that makes you take a step back and think about things. San doesn’t really know. He just speaks.

“Maybe I was thinking the same thing as you when you dragged her off that cliff with you. That same reckless, thoughtless panic that you felt when you saw me go over and decided to throw yourself after me. That blind instinct that says I’m willing to die in a heartbeat, so long as it gives you a chance to survive.”

San waits for Woo to say something, but he does not. Although the swordsman can hear him shuffle, clearly growing uncomfortable, exposed.

Amidst Woo’s silence, San connects Kuroku’s constellation in his mind. He and sister used to search for them in the night sky when he was little, finding Libaiya’s sun and Zaria’s siren amidst the bountiful little glowing beads. That was before Jude died. Before everything became so damn complicated.

San sighs. “I’m tired, Woo.”

There’s so much that he could be referencing, too much, but Woo understands it to be about the journey. “I know,” he says, his voice softening slightly. “But we’ll get to Kuroku soon, and then things can go back to normal.”

San laughs, a breathy chuckle. “Normal,” he says, mulling over the word, the silliness of it. “What is our normal?”

“What do you mean?” Woo asks, prodding a little further after being met with silence. “San?”

“When are we not fighting? Or avoiding each other? Or pretending this limbo we’re in doesn’t matter when it so obviously does?”

When his words are met with silence, San swallows hard. His throat feels tight, almost sticky. Like his body is begging him not to do this, his heart screaming at him to not say anything, not to burn this bridge even if it’s falling apart at his feet.

But San has to do this. If not for his heart, then for his sanity.

“We’re killing each other, Woo,” he whispers, still not looking at him. Not letting himself be swayed. “Or at least… you’re killing me.”

There’s a thick silence that follows these words, that leaves San a little surprised. He’d expected the elemental to get defensive or angry, just as he had been up the mountain earlier. Instead he remains quiet, hesitant.

Perhaps he can tell that this time is different.

“What are you saying, San?” Woo asks, quiet.

“I’m saying that I’m done,” San replies. “I can’t keep fighting like this, I can’t keep watching you throw yourself into open fire over jealousy, I can’t keep letting this thing between us put everyone in danger.”

San drops his voice to a whisper, so quiet that he isn’t sure if Woo can even hear him, the words too vulnerable to be said so loud. “I can’t keep waking up alone.”

San can hear Woo swallow, hard and thick. When he speaks, his voice is shaky.

“Is this about her?” Woo asks, but his tone is not accusatory, nor angry and jealous as he so often is when the subject of you arises. Instead it is broken, defeated. Rejected.

“No,” San answers, and it’s with a small laugh. Not of the condescending kind, just a hum towards the idea of all of this starting with you, as if he’d only started feeling this way mere weeks ago. “She may have been the final nail in the coffin, but we’ve been hammering for years, Woo.”

Another silent pause, before the elemental’s voice becomes even smaller. “Is there anything I could do to change your mind?”

San considers this. May as well be honest. “Yes, but you couldn’t do it.”

“What is it?” Woo asks immediately, driven by scheer instinct. Willing to do what it takes, willing to be thoughtless and reckless. Willing to jump off any cliff need be.

“You would need to give me all of you,” San says softly, a comet whirling by in the sky above him, as if what he’s saying is some sort of wish. Fool’s hope. “No bits and pieces. No secrets, just full honesty. Nothing hidden. Stripped bare.”

“You already have…” Woo rushes, before abruptly trailing off. San finally looks up at him, pushing himself back onto his elbows, meeting the elemental’s eyes.

Woo’s face has fallen, mouth drawn open as the words fail to come out, as he realizes they would be a lie.

San does not have all of him. There are things he won’t share, vulnerabilities hidden deep within him, a part of himself that he is not willing to unravel.

San wishes the Woo would take a breath, then unwind himself. That he would explain everything, why he pushes San away yet refuses to let him out of his reach, or why he needs San so badly on the coldest of winter nights, but disappears come the sunrise in the morning.

He’s always believed that this is because Woo also loves Seonghwa, that there is space in his heart reserved for another, a place that San can never hold no matter how much he tries.

But the way that Woo looks at him now, his mouth drawn open and eyes wide with an agonizing desperation, San knows that there is something deeper than that. Something dark, something holding the elemental back, something that Woo’s heart pleads for San to know but is unwilling to actually share.

Something that Woo will never tell him, that makes him wonder if he truly knows the elemental at all, and San is too tired to hold on to false hope any longer.

“We’ll get to Kuroku, then we’ll go home and figure out what we’re going to do about this,” San says finally, and he knows his voice sounds cold. Inside his heart is screaming, wailing, clawing for attention. His mind shuts it down. “For now let’s just finish what we started.”

“Okay,” Woo answers, gaze falling down from San’s, staring at the ground. The little speckles of grey-coloured sand surround them, murky and wet, cold. San wants to reach out and touch him. Hold him, kiss him, make him feel better. He stops himself.

He supposes that this will take a lot of time to go away. So be it.

“I’m going to go see where they ran off to,” San says. He rises to his feet, and his knees feel like jelly. He wants to collapse, his brain buzzing, vision foggy within this state of delirium. It feels like he’s not in control, cutting himself off from his emotions leaving him empty and hollow, weightless.

“Okay,” Woo says again, even quieter than the last, still not looking at him.

“Don’t stay out here too long. It’s cold and you’re soaked,” San says, before his feet are moving towards the forest and away from the beach, footprints trailing behind him on the sand.

“Sure,” Woo says, and his voice shakes. There’s a certain wetness to it, raspy as it rises up from his throat, and San realizes the elemental is holding back tears. It nearly stalls him, as San isn’t sure if he’s ever seen the elemental cry beyond a few silent tears.

He knows he would not be able to handle it, and so he continues forward, leaving Woo behind.

When San finds you in the cave that you and Seonghwa found, his expression is solemn. Sitting down a couple feet to your left, he reaches behind him to remove his sword from its sheath, only to remember that it’s no longer there. It’s somewhere back up the cliff, lost to the bushes after he’d been thrown off the monster’s back.

Upon realizing it’s gone, San sighs. He runs his hands through his hair, before keeping them placed on the back of his neck, as if he can no longer hold his head up on his own.

“Impressive fire,” he says suddenly, in reference to the hand-made fire crafted in front of you. It is rather impressive, made of a bounty of small sticks and logs all arranged in an intricate fashion, as well as some sort of fern stuffing the middle that helped get it started.

You chuckle, the thought of you containing the wilderness skills to make something like this amusing. “Seonghwa started it,” you explain, and San smiles, before glancing around the darkness of the cave.

“Where is he?” He asks.

You nod towards the cave’s exit. “Took a walk in the forest.”

San quirks an eyebrow. “It’s the middle of the night, almost sunrise.”

“Yeah, well,” you start, albeit awkwardly. You don’t want to sound too self-pitiful. “I don’t think he felt comfortable sitting alone with me.”

San’s smile falls, own eye drifting from yours to the flames. “Ah.”

You decide to change the subject. “Where’s Woo?”

“Down at the beach.”

When he doesn’t add anything else, you know that he doesn’t wish to speak about the elemental any longer.

The two of you sit in a not-so-comfortable silence, before you notice the dried blood on his tunic, having soaked through the fabric of both of his forearms. Amidst the more immediate danger, you’d forgotten the nasty fall he’d taken from the beast’s back, having wiped the skin clean off. You grimace at the thought.

“Your arms,” you start, clearing your throat. “Do they hurt?”

San glances down at them, eye widening as if to say: “Oh, right. That happened.”

“Uh, not really,” he says, before pulling up one of his sleeves. His breath catches at the sight of the skin, painted with bright bloody patches and a consistent red all throughout. He lets out an uncomfortable laugh, in shock. “Although, it looks like they should, doesn’t it?”

You frown, chewing on the inside of your cheek. “Do you want me to clean them?”

“We don’t have salve anymore, remember?” San says with a nonchalant shrug, brushing it off.

“Still,” you start, glancing behind you. “Even just some water could help.”

Before he can protest otherwise, you rise to your feet. The sound of dripping water can be heard from deeper within the cave, loud enough that you figure it would be a quicker journey than walking back to the shore. Besides, you want to give Woo his space.

Following the dripping, darkness swells around you, the light of the fire fading in the growing distance. You and Seonghwa hadn’t ventured any further than the opening, not wanting to risk stumbling upon any more deadly monsters in your search for shelter. Fortunately, you find the source of the dripping before the darkness becomes too thick. It falls as a steady stream, trailing from the top of the cave, likely sourced by a pond of sorts further up the mountain.

Taking a page from Seonghwa’s book, you rip off the bottom of your tunic, using it as a make-shift cloth as you soak it in the falling stream.

When you make your way back to San, he gives you a soft smile, although it quickly falls as you begin to dab at the scrapes with the shirt-cloth. He winces, attempting to tug his arm away, but you keep your grip on his wrist firm.

You don’t need to explain it to him, he’s surely had enough injuries to know that momentary pain is a small price to pay against infection. He stops pulling, letting his arm fall limp in your grasp. His gaze drifts up from his arm to your face, settling there for a moment, before trailing back down.

“San…” you start, hesitant as you trail the cloth along his skin. Perhaps it is unwise to ask, to risk stirring the pot more than you already have, but you need to know. “Why are you letting me do this? Why aren’t you avoiding me like Seonghwa, or yelling at me like Woo?”

When he doesn’t respond right away, the question quickly turns into a nervous ramble. “I mean, I screwed you over. You need that money, San. How can you just sit there and…and smile at me, knowing what I did to you? To all of you?”

That same soft, sad smile spreads over his lips now as you say those words. He sighs, although it is not a defeated or exhausted sound, more contemplative. When he looks up, his gaze is more gentle than you deserve.

“I probably should be more mad at you, shouldn’t I?” He says, letting out a quiet laugh that’s more a quick puff of air through his nose.

You respond with a nod, pursing your lips together. He sighs. “I guess… I guess I just get it. I know what it’s like to be desperate for something, to do things that you know are wrong and eat you up inside, but it feels like there’s no other option.”

Your brows furrow, watching him carefully. You don’t look away when he meets your eyes, a way of asking without saying anything aloud. He hesitates for only a moment, before swallowing hard, good eye flickering downward and away from yours.

“In the year after Jay killed my family, before I met Woo, I was living in The Cat’s Cradle. I had nowhere else to go, and to work towards paying off my debt, I had to work as his errand boy.”

San swallows hard, squinching his eye shut as if relieving it all. “I did a lot of things I’m not proud of, that I hated myself for then and still do now. Spying on people who had just as little as I had, who were also in debt to Jay, ratting them out. I may not have actually killed anyone, but I may as well have by turning them into him.”

“San…” You start, but trail off as you’re unsure of what to say.

“I guess in a way I always knew it was too good to be true,” San says softly, lip curving upward, although it’s more defeated than anything else. “It would be too easy. Much easier than I deserve.”

You open your mouth to say something, to likely spout your condolences and that he certainly does not deserve what you’ve done to him, but he must not want to hear it.

“I can tell that the world hasn’t been kind to you, just as it hasn’t been to me,” he says, not giving you the chance to speak. “Your family is also dead. Powerful men are also hunting you. You also have nothing left.”

Tears well in your eyes, and he takes the cloth from your hand, setting it down on the ground. He replaces it with his own hand, gentle as his fingers intertwine with yours. “I may be disappointed, but I can’t be mad. It’d be too hypocritical.”

It’s too kind, too understanding. The tears begin to slip from your eyes, and he reaches forward with his other hand to wipe at them, grazing his thumb along your cheekbone. When it makes its way to the corner of your face, he keeps it there, the rest of his hand cradling your head.

“Don’t cry,” he mumbles, thumb rubbing back and forth against your skin. “I said this to make you feel better, not to make you cry.”

“Sorry,” you say, with a breathy laugh. It quickly falters, fading into a stifled sob. Your lip quivers, face contorting inward on itself. Mingi always said you were an ugly crier.

“I’m sorry, San,” you say, and this time it is different. This time it is so much more.

He smiles. “I know.”

The silence that surrounds the two of you is thick. He continues to watch you, eye holding yours. A part of you wants to shy away, knowing how weak you look, the vulnerability in your swollen eyes and trembling lips.

Yet, you don’t, because at the same time you feel safe. You don’t know the last time you felt so truly understood, the last time you were stripped bare. Not lying, not pretending to be someone you are not, not walking on the egg-shells of a mistake.

And in the face of that person - the person that you truly are, horrible faults and all - he does not shy away.

He has seen you unravelled but holds you all the same, and amidst the situation's ugliness, it is the most accepted you have ever felt.

San leans in, slow and careful, like the air has transformed into molasses. His gaze falls, lingering on your lips. Your heart races as he draws closer, quickening beats that echo through you.

When he’s only a few inches away, he stops, and something flickers over his features. Sorrow, hurt, and all the emotions that have been building for so very long. In you, in him, in all of you.

Somehow, you know that this hurt is not about you, about this moment. This pure and vulnerable moment that he does not wish to taint with the pain of something else.

Instead of finding your own, his lips drift upwards, settling onto your cheek. Onto a stray tear that slipped past his thumb, gentle as he removes the wetness from your skin.

He pulls back to place his forehead against your own. He is warm, breath holding that same rich scent of coffee as it did a couple days ago. It’s cozy, comforting, and you feel the need to let him know how deeply you appreciate this. Appreciate him.

“Thank you,” you whisper, sitting in the promise of a kiss, noses brushing but lips never quite touching.

While he does not say anything out loud, the way his hand gently squeezes your own tells you everything that you could have wanted to hear.

Wooyoung pauses at the entrance of the cave. Having followed the flickering light of the fire and the sound of hushed voices, he wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting to find.

However, whatever he may have anticipated, it was not Seonghwa sitting outside of the cave with his arms drawn around his knees, avoiding the display of you and San huddled around the fire. Your faces are pressed so close together that Wooyoung wonders if the two of you had just finished sharing a kiss.

His eyes are puffy and his nose is stuffed. He feels gross. Wooyoung hasn’t cried in a long time, at least not like that. Maybe since Yeonjun and Winter, which makes sense, as this is the closest he’s felt since then to losing someone he loves. Any tears he’s shed from then on have either been minimal, or born from pure fury. These were neither.

He sits in the entrance for at least a minute, and when it doesn’t seem like the two of you are going to stop any time soon, he walks over to sit with Seonghwa.

The empath glances up at him, letting out a short sigh. “Hey,” he says, shuffling over to make space next to him.

“Hey,” Wooyoung replies, taking a seat. Despite himself, Wooyoung sniffles, and Seonghwa’s gaze darts over. Wooyoung knows that he’s giving him the look without having to meet the blonde’s eyes.

“Do you want me to-”

Wooyoung’s answer is immediate, knowing exactly what it is the empath plans to offer. “No.”

“Alright,” Seonghwa says quietly, casting a glance behind him, at the two of you by the flames. Wooyoung notices that Seonghwa doesn’t seem angry. He’s not fuming or sulking, more so impatient, fingers tapping along his knees as he seems to simply be waiting for the two of you to finish.

Wooyoung doesn’t get it, how Seonghwa handles these things. How he doesn’t explode. How he doesn’t lose himself in anger the way Wooyoung does. How he avoids your gaze rather than stares daggers into it.

He turns to Seonghwa, nodding towards the both of you. “Aren’t you mad?” He asks.

“No… Yes? I don’t know,” Seonghwa starts, a tad frustrated. He leans back so that his head presses against the cave's rocky exterior, lips drawn into a weak smile. “If San can forgive her, I'll let him. It’s not my place to foster grudges for him.”

That’s not really what Wooyoung meant, and he tries to be a little more direct.

“How does it not bother you seeing them like that?” Wooyoung asks, along with the unspoken question: “How do I make it not bother me?”

Seonghwa laughs, although it is low and unhumourous “There isn’t any jealousy to be had, Woo. She isn’t mine to keep. She never has been, even when I thought of it as…more than it was. I always knew that it wasn’t meant to last longer than Kuroku. We’ve just reached the ending a little sooner than I expected.”

When Wooyoung doesn’t respond, Seonghwa shrugs. “If she can bring San a little peace, well, why should I not let her?”

Wooyoung doesn’t know what to say to that. When he looks at you he sees the Libaiyan orphanage, he hears the oath he gave swearing complete obedience to your father three times a day. He thinks of those nights he spent dreaming of your entire family's demise, of what he would give to be the one to set that kingdom on fire.

But he also sees the broken girl crying over the horrors she committed. He sees your worried gaze lifting him from the sauna’s fog and casting him a trusting glance across the table when trying to trick the mimic.

He sees you knees deep in the mud, begging him to understand that you never knew about the orphanages. Tears in your eyes as the two of you were at death's door, whispering about how sorry you were.

How can you be both of those people at once? How can you be his greatest enemy, but also the only person he’s been able to tell the truth about his past?

He hates you. He also doesn't.

Wooyoung doesn't know what to feel. He wishes he could just be angry. It's so much easier to be angry than anything else. Than this, whatever it is.

Wooyoung sighs, casting a glance back at both you and San. You’ve finally pulled apart, backs turned as you both watch the flames. He can hear you whispering, and would be able to eavesdrop if he wanted to, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t want to hear what San might be saying to you.

With the thought of San returning to his mind, his face immediately feels too hot again, throat scratchy and his eyes wet.

He relives it. San’s cold voice, his defeated laugh, his footsteps following behind him as he left Wooyoung in the chilly, wet sand.

“You would need to give me all of you,” San had said, right after saying it was something that Wooyoung could never do.

The worst part? He’s right.

Wooyoung’s chest aches, and then it begins to shake, convulsing. The sobs rattle within him as he does not allow them to be released from his mouth. San can’t hear him, he will not make this any worse than it already is.

“We’re killing each other, Woo. Or at least… you’re killing me.” San’s words.

“We both loved you, and this is what we get for it?” Winter.

Two different beats to the same drum. Is this what he does to the people he loves? Hurts them? Makes them feel worthless? Kills them, or at least their souls?

He’s always feared of getting too close to San, of what he might do if he let down those remaining walls. If he would hurt him, if he would lose him.

He’s always tried so hard not to lose San. Steering the swordsman away from any perceived danger. From you, initially. Trying to protect him in any way he can. Even when it’s irrational, even when he knows it's only pissing San off, he’s never been able to help himself.

When San threw himself off the cliff, Wooyoung felt the world crumble to ash around him. It was Yeonjun all over again, the moment his head cracked against that rock, and nothing else mattered.

That would not happen to San. Not again, Wooyoung would not let it. He would not lose him.

Well, here he is, having lost him anyway, just in a different way. Perhaps it was inevitable, doomed from the moment they met, yet another curse on the god’s behalf.

Perhaps San is better off without him. Safer.

Wooyoung places his palm over his own mouth, stifling another sob. He feels a hand settle on his shoulder. Seonghwa. Fingers moving back and forth, he rubs the area around his neck in a soothing, comforting fashion.

Wooyoung would normally shove his hand away, tell him to piss off. Don’t get too close to this, don’t trouble yourself with my problems, take your hand away from the flames or else you’re going to get burned.

He doesn’t. Instead Wooyoung lets Seonghwa touch him. He does not move closer, he does not place his head on the empath's shoulder. He does not fully accept it, but he also does not push him away.

And for tonight alone, Wooyoung breaks.

~~~~~

next chapter.

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