#like they were never supposed to last and the fact they kept pushing destroyed them

[ctommyisnt]

Sex is great but have you ever listened to a song and created two entire ocs based off the song

[ashleyh713fanfics]

Dazai x Odasaku!Sister

Chapter 2 "I Could Really Go For Some Curry"

Summary: After Dazai lost the previous bet, he is now officially Odasaku's little sister's boyfriend. But does she really know what she's asking for? How could she want to date a demon?

Warning: Self destructing Dazai, Odasaku death mentions, slight bsd wan content mention, manipulative behavior from both sides. I gave Oda's sister a name but you can imagine it as y/n.

(This is chapter two of my fanfic "Timeless" which is now on A03. It carries on from the three part intro I posted a couple days ago. I'll link it below to fully understand the story. )

Three Part Intro Here: (just cause the first chapter is so long) Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

A03 Version Here:

Word count: 5k

----

Walking down the long port mafia corridors, Dazai placed his hands inside of his pockets before tuning out the world around him in order to fully envelop himself in his own dark thoughts. 

Last night's events appeared a moment later, causing the boy’s eyes to narrow with distasteful memory. He didn’t mean to agree to Odasaku’s sister's foolish request for him to be her boyfriend, it just sort of happened in the moment. 

And the longer he got from that moment, the more Dazai Osamu regretted it. 

Now don’t be mistaken, it wasn’t like he actually cared about the girl. The mafioso knew he was incapable of such a thing. Sure, he was enticed but it was surface level at best. The truth was, if she was anyone else Dazai would’ve already broken her for fun. 

But it was the fact that she was Odasaku’s sister that made him hold back from such a desire. He knew deep down that his old friend wouldn’t have wanted her to be destroyed, especially by his fingers. Hell, the boy knew he wouldn’t have wanted Dazai anywhere near her. 

That’s what Ango said, why Oda had kept her a secret, why he kept her out of Yokohama and by giving into her request he knew he was already dishonoring his memory in the worst possible way. 

But try as he may, Dazai just couldn’t walk away, knowing that a piece of his precious found family was still here in this world. He had wished for it, craved it with his entire soul as he grieved his death. 

And like a miracle, Asagao had appeared to answer his prayer. 

That’s why he agreed, it wasn’t because of her, it wasn’t because he had grown a heart suddenly, it was to use her. It was to keep Odasaku in his life no matter how small. 

He was selfish, so unbelievably selfish, wanting more than he deserved.

But even the brutal port mafia executive knew that his reasonings were fucked up. He knew that he shouldn’t be manipulating such a pure soul into his own whims. But how else was he supposed to do it? Dazai only knew how to exploit and control.

Pushing his fingers to his chin in silent thought, Dazai paused his steps. He supposed he could play the part of a devolved lover while using her. That’s what she wanted anyways, right? She did ask him to be her boyfriend. But how could he do that without being manipulative and underhanded in order to not shame Odasaku?

He then thought back to his past “relationships” before frowning to himself. Now that he mentioned it, the boy never did anything besides that. He always just used women when he saw fit and left them crying once he was finished with his physical needs.

Well that wasn’t gonna work. 

Damn it, being a good person was harder than he thought. 

Although that’s when a familiar voice broke through his personal bubble as a flash of annoying orange crossed his vision. “Hey, shitty Dazai. What are you doing standing in the damn way like that? You finally figure out how insufferable you are?” 

Already feeling a sense of dread in his throat, Dazai then looked up from his solitude in order to focus on his idiot partner in front of him. And just like that, any deep thought flew from his mind in order to participate in his favorite activity. 

Pissing the kid off. “Wooow, that’s a big word for you Chuuya, I didn't know you had it in you, considering you’re so small..”

Already seeing his eyes twitch in response, Chuuya’s face filled with anger in order to reach forward and grab onto Dazai’s jacket with a rough shout. “Ha?! I dare you, say that to me again jackass and see what happens!!” 

The boy only smirked though, enjoying the pure reaction he got. Chuuya never failed to bring him entertainment. He was the best toy around. Every word that got under his skin was like music to the demon’s ears.

And although he wouldn’t ever admit it, Dazai knew that his partner brought life to the boring mediocrity of his sad pathetic life, if only for a moment. They were the closest thing each other had to the term “friends”, in a fucked up, manipulative, forced to be together kinda way. 

Yet even so, Dazai couldn’t help but enjoy poking fun at the boy. Perhaps it was because Chuuya was so human to him while he was the opposite? 

Turning his head up in challenge, Dazai then indeed dared. “What, am I too tall for you to understand me the first time? Can’t hear me all the way from up here, Chuuya? Or should I say petite mafia?” 

Then all at once, Dazai reveled in the boy’s face, his eyes practically bulging from his skin as he tightened his grip on the bandaged boy with unmatched fury. “P-Petite?! Who are you calling petite, you social misfit!”

Shaking the boy around a couple times, Chuuya then seemed to realize the manipulation before roughly letting go of his shitty partner with an aggravated sigh. “God, the first thing I have to see once I get back is your shitty face? Talk about bad luck.” 

Dazai only nodded in response though, his shoulders moving in a disgruntled shrug. “You’re telling me. I was enjoying my day until you came along and ruined it.”

And for once, it seemed like the boy’s agreed on something, Chuuya’s eyes immediately moving past the bandaged annoyance in order to shove his hands into his pockets. “Well that makes two of us, shitty mackerel. Now get out of my way. I gotta go inform the boss about the mission. Do me a favor and go kill yourself while I’m gone.” 

Yet that’s when Dazai’s eyes sparkled with pure joy for his partner’s dark request, lifting his hands up in an excited and bubbly wave. “Say less!” 

Realizing his words had the opposite effect, Chuuya then paused for a moment before closing his eyes with an exasperated mutter. “Such a pain in my ass, I swear.” 

Of course he’d be happy about that kinda request, the sick bastard. 

And as Chuuya started to leave, Dazai couldn’t help but lower his eyes in silent thought. What would his partner say to Odasaku’s odd request to be good? Would he laugh at him, would he tell him that it was impossible? The boy didn’t know. 

Chuuya was always so real and human, surely he would be able to treat Oda’s sister with the care that she deserved. If he was in Dazai’s position the boy would’ve probably had a million ideas on how to go about Asagao’s ridiculous request. 

But he wasn’t Chuuya, he wasn’t human, he was something else entirely. 

Something wrong.

Dazai knew he didn’t have the capacity or ability to carefully hold Odasaku’s greatest treasure between his fingers and not crush her. He was inadequate and insufficient in every possible way.  

Allowing his voice to escape a moment later, Dazai turned towards the red haired kid slowly. “Hey Chuuya..” 

The boy only expected another insult though, his shoulders immediately going rigid in order to turn back with a high pitched short. “What?!” 

And for a moment, Dazai remained silent, willing the words to his mind. How do I be good? How can I honor Odasaku’s wish when I’m so defective? How can I be more human like you?

Pushing his lips together in order to suck in a heavy breath, the boy then dropped his hands before giving Chuuya a tight forced smile. “Nothing, never mind.” 

Chuuya paused at that though, his head turning at the strange new atmosphere only for Dazai to add playfully. “I was just going to say that your outfit today is super tacky. Where did you get it from again? The emo bargain bin?” 

Then all at once, all the concern seemingly drained from Chuuya’s face in order for it to be replaced by pure visceral hatred. “You..that’s it you bandaged wearing freak! I’m gonna make you regret that!!” 

And as he watched Chuuya stalk over to him in order to wash the unpleasant feelings and emotions from his mind the boy smiled bitterly. Who was he kidding? He could never ask such a ridiculous thing. 

Dazai knew the answer already anyways. 

He knew that anything other than this was impossible for him. 

Asagao would be disappointed in him also, just like he knew Odasaku was. 

-----

Humming to herself, Asagao skipped through the kitchen, mentally making a checklist of everything in her mind before turning towards the clock on the left in order to physically jump and try to hype herself up. 

It was almost time, everything had to be perfect.

The girl then frowned to herself in order to place a hand to her head in confusion. There was something she was missing. But what could it be? It’s like it was on the tip of her tongue. 

Rubbing her face, Asagao’s face then lit up with realization before quickly grabbing the large framed glasses by the counter in order to shove them back on her face.Then all at once, the familiar blurry sight reappeared like magic causing her to sigh in relief.

Ah, that was a close one.

The last thing she wanted was to ruin this with her freakish clever eyes.

Just then, she heard the doorbell ring only for Asagao to quickly hurry to the surface and throw it open with an excited gasp as she beamed. “Osu! There you are! You really came back! Ah, I’m so happy! Come in, come in, make yourself at home!” 

The boy himself felt rather whiplashed by the sudden joy, his fingers reaching up to the doorframe and leaning forward with a cocky smirk in order to invade her personal space. “Ah, Asa-chan. You missed me that much? I’m flattered, really.”  

He expected her to blush at the distance yet the girl only nodded her head like the answer was obvious to her. “Of course! I’ve been thinking about it all day. This is the first time someone’s actually come back when promised they would. Why wouldn’t I be happy about that?” 

Her words were rather sad but it didn’t show on her face, causing Dazai’s eyes to watch her curiously. It was like she didn’t allow the reality of her words to fully register inside her brain. Was that some kind of coping mechanism or something? It certainly seemed like it. 

She did that a lot, with Odasaku’s death and now with that depressing revelation. 

So much so, Dazai couldn’t help but tease her about it, not knowing how to do anything else. Sure, a good person would’ve felt pity or tried to reassure her about it, but that wasn’t something that the boy was capable of. 

Turning his head in fake sympathy, he mocked. “What a pitiful little thing you are, darling. I bet you were so lonely back home, what with no friends or family. My heart is bleeding for you.”

He hit her where it hurt, knowing that it would garner a reaction of some sort. Perhaps once she realized who she was letting into her home then she would rethink this entire ridiculous agreement and run away like she should’ve in the first place. 

Yet Dazai was certainly surprised when Asagao replied a moment later with absolutely no annoyance or sadness. No, she only looked rather unbothered about it. “Your bet is correct! To put it plainly, everyone back home hated me. The minute I stopped masking and took off my glasses they ran for the hills!” 

He then watched in stunned silence as she gave a carefree girlish giggle of unbothered misery in order to turn around from Dazai and walk back into Odaskau’s old apartment. “Now what are we standing out here for? Come on, the foods gonna get cold if we wait anymore..” 

Watching her disappear into the room, the boy couldn’t help but remain quiet, feeling his fingers fall from the doorframe and down by his side. He thought for sure she’d get mad at him or cry about his little comment. 

But it was just like before, she didn’t register his words, like her mind didn’t allow her to. 

Damn it, she was the complete opposite of Chuuya. She wasn’t hot headed or pathetically reactive. This was new territory, something he wasn’t used to at all. 

Because of that, the mafioso then frowned before forcing himself into the familiar apartment with unsure and uneasy steps. He didn’t like this, the feeling of not being in control. He needed to get it back and fast. 

Yet the further he got into Odasaku’s place, he felt his heart twist with familiar pain and grief. The ghosts of the past were back, circling around him as he reluctantly sat at his usual place, his fingers touching the cold wooden table with a sigh. 

It was just before, everything felt empty here. 

Although that’s when the fifteen year old looked up only to find a steaming bowl of curry in front of him as his eyes couldn’t help but widen in memory, recalling Odasaku’s last words to him. 

Holding on for dear life, Dazai felt his knuckles turn white as he watched his only friend, the only man who understood him slip from life. “People live to save themselves, it’s something they realize before they die, huh?” 

Then the boy watched as Oda’s lips formed into a small smile as his eyes fluttered close, his voice hoarse and hauntingly final. “I could really go..for some..curry..”

Blinking back to reality, Dazai stared at the seemingly mundane dish before his fingers curled against the table with unexplainable emotion. And if the boy knew how to cry or even what that concept was, he knew he’d be sobbing at this very moment. 

Luckily though, the suffocating feeling was overtaken when Asagao slid into the spot across from him before smiling happily in order to pick up her chopsticks. “I hope you don’t mind, Oda’s letters didn’t say what your favorite food was so I just picked mine. Ah, I’m so excited. I could really go for some curry right now.” 

And the moment the words left her lips, Dazai’s head immediately snapped up with anxious desperation he couldn’t hide. She had just said the same thing Odasaku did, she just said his last words. Didn’t she know the weight they had?  

Just hearing them again, it felt like he was here right now. It was like his best friend was telling the boy that he was still around in her eyes. It was overwhelming, the empty hole inside his heart suddenly becoming full with a feeling he thought was lost the day he died. 

Asa seemed to notice his silence though, her head turning in concern. “Do you not like curry? Ah, sorry, I didn’t ask first. If you tell me what you like I can make it next time. I’m a pretty good cook, you know?” 

Dazai only shook his head though, feeling the very familiar fifteen year old pathetic kid overtake him in order to whisper back a sad broken reply. “N-No…I like it…” 

And thankfully, Asagao didn’t point out the uncharacteristic tone, her head only nodding in confirmation before changing the subject, something that Dazai was incredibly grateful for. 

Mostly because he knew he was falling apart by the second. “Since you’re here, I thought we could talk about our agreement last night. Like go into specifics and such..” 

Shoving down the unruly emotion in his throat, the boy recalled back to his statement before pushing his head up with forced interest. What was she talking about, what did she want him to do? Because whatever it was Dazai knew she was looking in the wrong place. 

A loyal boyfriend, a lovesick fool, a cheesy romantic? Yeah, that wasn’t gonna happen. Sure, he could fake those kinds of things but only for so long. She was so passionate about wanting him last night. What a delusional girl. 

He already knew he wouldn’t be able to offer anything of value. 

Turning his head in fake flirty intent, Dazai lowered his eyes sensually, hoping it would make her uncomfortable. “Specifics? Ah, Asa-chan you're so dirty. What did you have in mind?” 

Asa only put her hand up in response though, stopping whatever depravity he was implying. “Now, I don’t want you to be mistaken, I know I asked you to be my boyfriend but I wouldn’t expect you to do any of that mushy touchy stuff or anything like that. I know that’s not your style anyways and I don’t wanna force you into something uncomfortable.” 

At that, the boy couldn’t help but drop the act, his eyes turning in confusion. What? If she didn’t want that mushy crap then why did she even ask for all this in the first place? She said that she had fallen for him. Was that a lie?

Although that’s when Asagao shrugged her shoulders plainly. “I mean let’s be honest here, the only reason you're here is because you’re using me.”

Feeling his fingers pause on his chopsticks, Dazai paused in order to look up at her innocently in order to try to fool her. “Oh, am I?” 

Asa wasn’t fooled though, the girl only humming back. “Mhmm. I’m useful to you because I’m related to Oda and if I was anyone else you wouldn’t have ever agreed.” 

Then all at once, Dazai felt his stomach drop in guilt for his own black soul.

Shit, she had read him. She had seen through his real intentions so quickly. Well of course she did, Odasaku did say that her world spun as fast as his. But then that begged the question, if Asagao knew about his cruel intent, why was she still humoring him?

He received his answer a moment later, watching as Asagao simply placed her chopsticks down in order to turn her eyes back at him with cruel and calculating vigor. 

“Ah, don’t worry about it. If you must know, I’m using you also, Osamu.” 

And even though her eyes were blocked by the large rimmed glasses on her face, Dazai already knew what kind of expression was underneath. She was looking at him just like last night back in that alley. He remembered it in an instant. 

That cruel hollow look she showed him before, it was the same now. He knew it was.

It was like she was eying some kind of prey, and unlucky for him Dazai seemed to be the one on the menu today. So they both had plans to use each other? That was her play? How interesting. 

Allowing her to continue, Asagao then lifted her hands up before speaking with precise precision. “We both want what each other can offer. We both are searching for my brother in different ways and think we can find it in each other. That’s why I suggested our partnership in the first place. Because it would be mutually beneficial.” 

Twisting her lips into a sly calculating smirk, Asagao then placed her fingers underneath her chin in order to lean forward and finish. “Besides, once I found out how connected you two were, I knew I wasn’t going to let you go. I’m sure it’s the same for you, right, Osu?” 

And it was, it was the exact same, so much so that he didn’t want to admit it. Odasaku was right, they did have the same minds. They both saw each other as chess pieces on a board and collected each other for their own personal games. 

They both had plans to use each other in order to will Oda Sakunosuke back to life. 

So much so, Dazai felt his entire tone shift, allowing the demon prodigy to overtake the conversation and his eyes to darken with sickening glee. “Ah, you got me Asa-chan. Nothing gets past you, does it? What do you suggest then? What can you offer to me?”

Asagao didn’t seem to mind though, her entire demeanor calm even though she was making a deal with the devil. “You come over every once in a while and tell me stories about my brother and in exchange I’ll show you a letter in return for each one. That way we both keep him in our lives.” 

Waving her hand away, the calculating aura then dissipated slightly in order to smile sweetly in the direction of his hollow empty eyes. “And once I stop becoming useful to you then you are free to throw me away and move on. Although, I do ask that when you decide to do so, you don’t tell me. I absolutely despise endings. I like to live more in the moment then think about the horrors of the future.” 

Her offer was tempting to say the least, with it he would be able to use the girl as he pleased for his own desire while she did the same. He wouldn’t have to change his underhanded and manipulative ways because Asagao would be fully aware of what he was trying to do. 

It seemed perfect, too perfect actually. Was Odasaku’s sister really okay with them using each other and then throwing them away when the time was up? Sure, he would be able to do it no problem but Dazai wasn’t sure about her.

What if in doing so he managed to crush her accidentally? He didn’t trust himself not to. Not at all. Hell, Dazai knew the damage he could do if left to his own devices. 

Pushing his hand underneath his chin in silent thought, the boy’s lethally dangerous gaze then followed her as he made his way around the table and into her space.“And what if I shatter your poor little heart in the process? Like I said, I’m not a good man, sweetheart. I know you said you’d be fine with me breaking you, but have you really thought about what that really means?” 

Yet try as he may, Asagao was not shaken, her shoulders simply shrugging to his very obvious threat in order to turn and meet him halfway. “If you’re trying to scare me it’s not going to work.”

The boy only hummed though, his fingers reaching forward in order to trail a calculating line across her cheek. “Isn’t it? What if I told you that your big brother wouldn’t approve of you hanging around me so much?” 

And for a moment, Asagao froze, but it wasn’t because of his touch, her eyes moving down before answering back less confident than before.  “.. I don’t believe that. My brother wouldn’t have written about you so much if he didn’t want me to know about you.” 

She believed that with her whole heart, knowing that Oda’s letters held so much love and care for the fifteen year old boy. If her brother didn’t want her to find Osu then he wouldn’t have ever said anything. 

He must have known how much it meant to her, to have someone to relate to after so many years. Of course she’d never actually know though, considering Asa never had the opportunity to ask him. Everything was just an assumption, but this was one assumption she was actually confident about. 

Dazai didn’t seem to think so though, Ango’s poisonous warnings still fresh in his ears. 

“You asked why Oda never mentioned her to you. It’s because destruction and corruption follows you everywhere, Dazai. He knew how black your soul is and what you could do to her if given the chance. The demon prodigy has no place out of the darkness, and I'm sure you know that also.”

He knew his best friend more than anyone, even more than her. Of course he didn’t want Dazai near her. If he did then he would’ve told him about her years ago. And here he was, dishonoring his memory because he was too god damn selfish to live in a world without him. 

So much so, he urged for her to understand how wrong she was. 

Trailing his fingers down, Dazai then darkened before latching his thumb and forefingers onto her chin in order to force her head towards his with a rough display. He felt the tips of his nails dig into her pretty pink cheeks in order to dip his head down until they were mere inches apart. 

Then all at once, the port mafia executive allowed every bit of evil to show in his eyes before speaking cruelly across the space just above her lips with a cruel hovering smile. “Yes, but hearing about me and actually being here are two completely different things, darling. I’m sure Odasaku didn’t expect you to be near so much danger so willingly, so eager to give yourself to the darkness.” 

He left her there in the madness, in that helpless controlless position, waiting for her to break away or cry for his rough movements. No, she needed to walk away, she needed to go because he wasn't going to. He didn’t have the strength to do something so kind. 

Feeling his fingers dig further into her flesh with unsaid desperation, Asagao’s lips then began to move between the space underneath his, her breath coating the distance as she spoke. “You don’t have to do this, Osamu. I already understand. I understand that you don’t want to lose the last piece of my big brother you have left. You’re scared, scared that you’ll be left with nothing again..” 

Dazai's eyes then flashed with anxiety before pulling away only slightly in order to see Asagao’s warm reassuring smile. “Have some faith in me, Osu. I’m not as fragile as you might think.” 

Feeling his heart twist and turn in every single unpleasant direction, his fingers started to turn numb between her skin. She already knew what he was trying to do, she knew he was giving her a way out and still wasn’t taking it. 

That’s when Dazai felt his entire body tense as he felt her fingers reach forwards in order to cover his hand with her own before closing her eyes in equal emotion to what he was feeling. 

And when she spoke, it was so sincere and honest, shaking him to his entire core. “Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere.” 

Almost immediately, he felt his fingers snap back from hers, not liking the close contact before he leaned away with wide eyes. What was she saying?

 Touching someone else was child’s play for him but he never liked it when someone did it back. It was too vulnerable, too exposed. And it was the same here, the boy trying his best not to show the pure panic on his face.  

What she just said, she didn’t mean it anyways. She couldn't have. Everyone always disappeared from him, everything eventually slipped through his fingers. How dare she make such a ridiculous promise. How dare she give him hope that it will be different this time. 

It wasn’t different with Odasaku and it won’t be different with his precious little sister. 

Because of that, Dazai’s voice couldn’t help but come out bitter, knowing better than anyone how unfair the world was to him. “You don't know that.” 

Asa then paused before putting a finger to her lips in silent thought before answering back with a nod of understanding. “Well no, I guess I don’t. I can’t predict the future or anything. But why do we gotta think that far ahead? Why can’t we just enjoy the time we have right now?” 

Oda’s sister then closed her eyes before thinking about the meaning of her own words. Perhaps Osamu was right, perhaps things would turn out bad for them in the end. But if that was the price she had to pay to finally get closer to her brother, she knew she would gladly take it tenfold. 

Besides, if there was a possibility of things ending horribly then that meant there was also a possibility that things could do the opposite. And whether it was foolish or not, Asagao chose to focus on the impossible odds that this could work out okay. 

Then she opened her eyes before smiling softly. “For today, all you have to worry about is being yourself and I’ll do the same. It’s as simple as that.” 

Picking up her chopsticks once more, Asagao then beamed before purposely changing the subject before he could disagree with her positive statement. “Now go on, tell me a story about my brother. I’m dying to hear one!” 

But for Dazai, the boy felt his fingers curve into his bandaged arms with an emotion he didn’t know he possessed. He thought that Oda’s sister would’ve been disappointed by him and maybe that would be true in the future but today it seemed that wasn’t the case. 

And that was enough to make him strangely happy, feeding into the delusion automatically in order to look down at the curry on the table. “Well, one night we were talking and Odasaku thought I mentioned curry so I told him that we should cook one night and make one all together..”

He then watched as Asagao leaned further into the table, absolutely entranced by his every word like it was her life support. “Oooh what kind were you going to make?” 

Feeling his lights start to light up with memory, Dazai recalled the conversation with ease. “Well at first I suggested that we all bring something and put it in a pot, but then I got the idea to make my world famous special superhuman stamina hot pot! It’s made with leftovers from my last superhuman hot pot that I accidentally burned mixed with vinegar and tabasco that’s wrapped and concealed with kindness and love!” 

The boy then chuckled to himself as Asagao gasped in pure awe. “Wow, that’s a lot of ingredients!” 

Nodding back happily, Dazai beamed. “I know, right?! But out of all the ingredients love is the most important part. You can’t forget that!” 

The girl then pushed another bit of curry into her mouth before swallowing with an excited reply. “Wait, what did my brother and Ango say about it though?”

Pushing his hands on the table, the boy let another chuckle escape his lips, remembering the conversation clear as day. “Ango said that it wouldn’t be good but when he asked Odaskau he said..” 

Asa then watched as his words gave out completely, his eyes softening in order to slump down back into his seat with a sad grief filled smile as she pleaded back. “What did he say?”

The air was solemn, coursing through both of them immediately before Dazai spoke again, except this time it was far quieter than before. “He said… Why wouldn’t it be good? Dazai said so ..”

His face showed with so much admiration and unexplainable sadness that it caused Asagao to soften as well before smiling at the bond the two shared that she would never understand. “It sounds like Oda knew a good hot pot when he heard it.” 

Then all at once, she watches the fifteen year old boy’s face light up with pure joy at Odasaku sister’s words, that small giddy excitement coming back tenfold. “He did!! I mean why wouldn’t it be good?! It’s eye-meltingly, cheek popping-ly good! So Odasaku promised me that he would try it! Ango looked like he wanted to die though! It was so funny..and then..”

And as he spoke stories of his old friend, he couldn't help but soak in Asagao’s responses, her eyes never leaving him even for a moment as he spoke about Odasaku so honestly for the first time since his death. 

She reveled in it just as much as he did, hanging on every word like they were the only things that mattered to each other. And they were, Odasaku’s memory was the most precious thing either one had. 

So much so, Dazai couldn’t help but feel his shoulder relax for the first time in weeks. Feeling that same calm, comfortable peace he did whether he was at Bar Lupin. 

And for a couple delusional moments, Oda somehow felt alive again. 

[bjarkanart]

Heya! Since I haven't been able to draw much in the last couple of weeks, I took some time to write a bit and finally decided to go for multiple chapters cause I'm a really slow writer so I posted the first chapter of my Death Stranding AU Imodna fic, I hope it's at least decent...

Here's a little snippet. The rest is up on Ao3, let me know what you think and thanks for reading! 🙏

Most people who knew her in Gelvaan would say that Imogen Temult was strange. With her purple hair and lightning scars, the fact that she could hear their thoughts and talk in their heads if she so chose, and sometimes hearing her screaming in the middle of the night if they passed her room, it only made sense for them to be wary of her and try not to get close.

Imogen knew what people said and thought about her, so she tried to avoid them as much as they tried to avoid her, which was hard to do when everyone lived piled up underground like a colony of ants.

 

When she was a kid, Imogen would always try to help someone out, always curious, always with a smile on her face. And people didn't treat her differently from the other kids at the time.

Then, something shifted.

Her father grew distant the more she grew up and Imogen had no idea why. She had tried to ask him. Tried to understand. But her countless attempts at trying to get an explanation from him only ever ended in disappointment and hurt the more she pushed the matter. 

She stopped trying to get answers from him when the word "daddy" started leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. The once soothing term of endearment sounded like an anomaly or a foreign language even to her, as every time she spoke the word out loud, it was met with silence. Imogen had grown tired of running after a man who felt more and more like a stranger she just happened to be sharing an apartment with.

Imogen was fifteen she was diagnosed with DOOMS and when the nightmares started.

Dreams of a red storm engulfing a town in the distance she had never seen before. Destroying everything in its wake as red lightning struck trees, splitting them in half. A tornado snatching houses from the ground and hauling them in the air to be blown away and far beyond the horizon. The wind was blasting all around her, deafening, overwhelming, spraying dust over her face and forcing her to squint with no clue on where she was supposed to go. She just knew she had to get away from the storm. Then a woman's voice would echo in her mind, telling her to run, repeatedly, every time she had that dream.

Imogen didn’t know that voice. But somehow, something in her gut told her it was her mother's, it had to be. But why was she so certain of it? She didn't know. She couldn't remember her mother. But still, she would always instinctively listen to her and run, run as far as her feet would carry her, as far from the storm as possible.

And Imogen would wake up panting or screaming and in a cold sweat. Chills running down her spine as she tried to comprehend why she kept having those strange dreams and what they meant. If they even had a meaning to begin with. Were they connected to her powers or did they have anything to do with her DOOMS since the condition made her more connected to the other side? She had dreamed of a few people she knew walking into the storm, to then learn of their passing the next day but had chosen to never share this information. People were cautious enough around her; she didn't need them to know she could tell when someone was going to die.

She also wondered if the place she saw in her dreams was maybe a memory of what Gelvaan used to be. But it didn’t make sense to her. She had never known a life before all this. 

Before the explosions. 

Before the craters. 

Before the Death Stranding.

***

There you go!

[faunastanza]

Schoolyard Disease

Schoolyard Disease, by [crossed out]

This one has Lily and Neon on the title card! WILL IT BE PLOT OR MORE RANTING? The winning option in the last VN was the destruction of the role.

We do a real throwback and go back to Beleth Goes to School, with the opening rant about accepting a divine gift, although this time it says that we are "destroying" a divine gift. It says we do not fear oblivion for we ARE oblivion, and asks what it tastes like to drink fear.

The speaker asks if their brethren really thought they could escape the light of the Pole Star, their light, and if they really thought there was a way to not succumb to the truth of it all. The Pole Star then says that they've always known, and that they've always been bound together and have always been here. They wonder what it's like to hurt them, while saying that they are you, and you are them.

i'm freaking out!!

Lily and Neon are in the dark and Call-Clout comes to the door, asking what they'll do this time. Neon still has the Paranoia angel on her shoulders, while Lily pushes her back and says that Call-Clout might be part of the disease. She asks if Neon recognizes them (Call-Clout? Not clear), since Lily doesn't. The angel on Neon's shoulders says they do not remember them with the exact same phrasing as Beleth Goes to School, and that Lily knows what they must do.

Lily tells Neon not to move. Neon (or Paranoia) asks Lily to sing along with her in the chant, then asks if she just wants to kill her again (as implied in Call Sign!). Lily again echoes Beleth Goes to School lines in asking what the angel did to Neon. Chip flies by and half the slide fills up with just Neon's name.

hi chip

It seems sort of like a mix of different lines being said at once. One is Neon saying who she is - a doctor who loves robotics. Another is Beleth's line from when they were first introduced, and another is Orobas's line from when she was first introduced. Someone keeps asking if someone else (Neon I think) is there and if she can hear them.

It turns out it's a recording of Neon on Chip. Neon calls out to herself saying that they've survived across multiple frequencies and that this is the [REDACTED] time they've tried to get in TAL's chamber, and that "I have never managed to wake you up here".

Call-Clout meanwhile lols and asks if Chip/Neon is an idiot/robot. Call-Clout asks when anyone has ever been able to beat Paranoia with the facts (get it), again stating this is hilarious. They ask where Chip's proof is, and how they're supposed to believe someone who's on Neon's side. "I went through all this trouble to write myself into your story, and you can't get a single thing about me right?" they ask, saying that this is all about them.

Call-Clout is really annoying by the way

Call-Clout says they're bored and wants to play a different game, Cops and Robbers. It cuts to someone sitting at a desk with Lily's body and a three line face with one eye blocked out. Call-Clout says they're the cop who gets to watch everything they do and judge if it's bad or wrong, and Lily (?) is the robber and gets to be robbed of their identity. Yes we're still on the cancelling thing.

Lily protests, saying she likes her identity, and Call-Clout says they don't care. They say that Lily is a criminal, walking around with Call-Clout's face like that, but that they fixed the problem for her. Call-Clout is holding masks of Lily, Neon, and themselves at this point. It cuts back to Lily, but she has the combined features of her and Neon.

subtle

Her face is replaced with "criminals" and Call-Clout says this makes things a lot easier, since everyone will know who they are and they don't have to think about what to do with either of them anymore. They say they gave them plenty of chances "to leave her behind", but "you" kept letting a dirty criminal in here, so they must be one too. I'm assuming Neon is the criminal in here, given that her privileges were revoked way back when. Call-Clout says this is much simpler since they don't have to keep track of both of them anymore and that it was so hard to think that two different individuals could exist at the same time.

Lilyneon says some odd text, with one repeating "I see her" and the other saying that they see her on the train, that she's like them, that she's missing, that they're looking for her, that he will be drained, and that they're on the cusp of change. Cozmo and Orobas, perhaps? Lilyneon asks if Call-Clout is the janitor, who is confused by the question. Behind them, Inkcat pokes their head inside and Scissors soon follows.

Call-Clout says they're teaching Lilyneon an important lesson and tells them to leave. Inkcat says that they will once they're done with their task, but it'd go faster with their help. Call-Clout says they'll help, but in exchange for their identities to use as their own, which they'll collect at an earlier/later date. Inkcat clarifies that they just want directions to the next door.

Call-Clout says it was worth a shot, then asks if they can do them two favors. Inkcat says maybe. Call-Clout asks if they can come back and play with them later (Inkcat says maybe) and if they can do something about the annoying noise from the hallway (TVscout banging their cymbals) and Inkcat says they can. They give them a bunch of random rhetorical questions as they go.

look i'm going, sheesh

Inkcat says they're off to repeat the last minute of everything they guess and go through the door. Call-Clout turns to Lilyneon and tells them not to try and and play "tricks" like that again, do they understand? Lilyneon says they see nothing. Call-Clout says they have a fun idea and asks if Lilyneon wants to hear it. Lilyneon asks what the idea is while text saying "don't you dare hurt them" repeats endlessly behind her.

Call-Clout acts offended that Lilyneon thinks that they'd hurt Jupet, saying that Jupet is already good at hurting themselves, and wondering what kind of stupid kid hurts themselves because of a comic they read? They say Lily's a bad parent for making sure that Jupet wasn't reading safe material. Glip was accused of exposing children to porn or unsafe topics through their comics, so this feels like a jab at that.

Lilyneon asks if Call-Clout has anything else to say to them or if they're finished. In the background "I WILL HUNT YOU DOWN AND KILL YOU" scrolls repeatedly. Call-Clout says that's rude and that killing is for cops, not robbers (acab). They says they're almost done here and just want to make a few more little "edits".

ugh troupe imagery

The spots in their infinity halo look a bit like the squigglies for Paige or Andre as they ask if Lilyneon likes costumes and games like Jupet does, and that they'll make it a fun game to see if they can actually do "it" this time.

They send out a bunch of bugs from their halo, saying they make a huge mess everywhere they go since that's their job and they're really talented. They can't wait to see what they'll do to Lilyneon. They then say again that this has nothing to do with Lilyneon and has everything to do with Call-Clout, and that it'd be really self-centered to think otherwise.

The bugs descend on Lilyneon as Call-Clout says that "in accordance with [REDACTED]'s law, you are sentenced to be forgotten". "We offer this sacrifice unto You and we hope You are pleased", they continue. Call-Clout, I think, says that they don't have to hurt Jupet when it's a lot easier to let someone else do it. They say Lily never loses a fight, Lily never goes without drawing blood, and that Lily never goes without going for the kill. Meanwhile the bugs and Lilyneon are mixing together.

Call-Clout (I think) continues, saying that Lily isn't a very good mom, she always leaves her child alone, and she never watches what Sylvan does to them. Lily trusts one wrong friend, Lily believes the best in everyone, Lily never notices if anything's wrong if it's a stranger, Lily doesn't know how to get her head out of fiction, because she knows death perfectly.

hey, sylvan again!

Lilyneon and the bugs seem to have formed an angel that kind of looks like a worm on a string lol. More text, probably being said by Call-Clout still but I'm not sure, keeps going on as the worm burrows around. It's the same text from Beleth Goes to School and the other Ever Hopeful things, with someone asking if anyone has seen their child, that today was their first day of school, they came at the right time to pick them up but they aren't here, nobody was here, and they just want to find their child.

The voice continues, describing Neon this time. She says that Neon is really nosy, likes educating others, ignores shame to teach. Neon is always scared everyone around her will be hurt, and she has a hard time understanding boundaries so she keeps to herself so she won't break any. Neon overlooks this when she thinks someone will be in danger, and so does Lily.

The worm thing keeps transforming, getting kind of bigger. Call-Clout continues on, saying that Lily kills in self-defense but also for fun, since the world is boring for her since she can't die. The world's so boring when it bows to her every whim! Lily killed for sport to see if she could kill enough to have someone realize her as a threat and take her down. Call-Clout says that's despicable and asks how Neon could even like her, and asks if she even knows anything about her.

Lily, godcat

Call-Clout keeps going in angry caps now, saying that Neon told Lily what she thought Sylvan was up to, and Lily didn't believe her. Neon went to see for herself, and it turned out that Lily already knew, and she already knew about Ever Hopeful, and she never told Neon. And Lily let her go through all that pain and hurt just to reach a place that they could've gone to together, but Neon got hurt and didn't know how to blame her. I'm not sure if this is an actually accurate description of what happened or Neon's feelings or if Call-Clout's making it up. Who knows at this point.

It starts getting unclear who's talking again. Someone says they can't just blame Lily when neither of them knew what they would find. Someone else says that maybe this is the only way things could have gone, and wonders which one of "us" is lesser. Someone says they don't know and they don't want to do this "with you" anymore. The other voice says they can't do this if you're not honest.

The angel keeps morphing as it seems like Lily and Neon are talking to each other again. Lily says that she was as honest as she could be and that she wasn't trying to trick Neon, it was just that if she told Neon about it she would have spilled the beans and Sylvan would have known. Sylvan is very hard to trick, apparently.

Lily says she doesn't want to say why she was into Neon in the first place. Neon says she can't cry with her CYBEREYES presumably but now there's also a normal eye. I think this related to the Lilyneon having three eyes but I'm not sure.

angel eye?

Anyway, it turns out that Chip also got caught up in this weird angel amalgamation, and jokes they can call it "D-bug" now. It says that it'll be the one to remind them of what they have to do and will be their guide. It says that it's going to be a little sad, but it's okay.

Lily asks if they really messed it up every single time, and Neon says they did. She then laughs about how she can't believe this, and Lily asks what she means. They start taking a sort of horse-like shape and Lily says that this isn't so bad and that they can probably help "them" like this. They're way better off knowing about them firsthand, even if it's in battle or as a pet, Lily says. Anyway they end up as a pony that kind of looks like Amdusias, and they don't seem too bothered about it.

Neon says that she asked Shizu about spirit magic and hooking her and D-bug up to be able to see it. Neon doesn't think spirit magic is an element and then blew it off, so she thinks that maybe this whole thing could have been avoided if she'd just accepted the existence of spirit magic and got the hook-up in the first place.

Anyway, Neon says that the comic and what Sylvan taught them gave Jupet the idea to make Beleth, presumably.

Lotsa faces, here for you

Neon wonders why Sylvan taught Jupet about "the atrocities" (angels?), then they say someone's there. It pans out to reveal... BELETH!! AND SOME OF THEIR DOLLS! Wow how long as it been. Lily or Neon says they recognize Beleth and wonder what the hell they're doing here "in this ridiculous fight".

LilyneonchipPony, AngelPony, seems to have a bit of a moment where either Lily or Neon are fighting or completing each other's thoughts, it's hard to tell. They say not to attack, asking Beleth to hear them, "remember before this moment we thought they were lost". They say they always go in for the kill, which means they can cancel themselves in case things get out of hand I guess?

They seem a bit disoriented and wonder if they lost some time. They say this is a horrible fate.

Why the Amdusias imagery

They say they used the "claws" to try and escape "this wretched story" and that they successfully did use the knife/claws to get out. They said they fell to that blade/them in an instant for the felt the loss, because of the little fairy (Min). This will be explained (a little) in Who's Left and What's Right in the future.

White Beleth calls out to them, saying their "PUNISH-mint" is on hold and that Baby has a message for them. Beleth's doll here is a kangaroo. The baby (Baby Boopit, could this be a variant of Mr Boo Boo Bye??) asks where the fairies are, and the mom (Punchily) says there aren't any fairies here, only angels. The other doll that came along, D-Judy, struggles to check the threat levels and get the translator ready.

Beleth is annoyed that D-Judy isn't prepared and says that Baby Boopit can understand angel talk. She says to let Baby Boopit ask if it knows where the fairies are, because then they can stop hundreds of seeds (!!!!) from sprouting, so it's worth asking at least. D-Judy is offended and says they'll try to get the translator working before the other commanders arrive and that they need a thought to hang on to that can be read.

Not sure if we've seen this one before

The Amdusias pony thing seems to have lost it again, wondering why Jupet/Beleth would be with those things and feeling like something's wrong. D-Judy says they have a vaccine for "not being able to speak this way", since they don't know how to translate "that" yet, and they can at least inject the angel with the ability to talk like them.

Amdusias pony is still confused, saying it's remembering that sometimes it's better to have the wrong shape than no shape at all, repeating the word sometimes and a faint "i hear you". Pony wonders how "you were able to fill your heart with your mothers so easily" and how it came to "you" so easily when it never occurred to them. She then addresses a strange witch, asking where she's gone off to and saying that she can't return without seeing her face once more. Maybe the witch Orobas from Try Try Again?

D-Judy sends a bee to inject the vaccine into the Amdusias pony, saying they're going to inject them with a song called [missing translation]. The pony freaks a bit at first but remembers that this is to help them and calms down. They say that for once they don't have to play and can just listen, even if it hurts. The injection goes in (addressed as "Key Points") and Amdusias pony starts yelling about how it hurts. Beleth is like WAIT WE CAN UNDERSTAND WHAT IT'S SAYING NOW

Beleth wonders how they can get it to calm down, and D-Judy says they should try and get its attention. Baby Boopit starts repeating that it hurts and Punchily is upset, and Beleth chides her for never listening to her baby. Get it. Beleth says that's just what they should do and throws their arms up, yelling that they knows that it hurts, that they can hear you because it hurts, and that they don't need to know you, because they know it hurts.

>O

Anyway, they keep calling out to Amdusias pony and eventually she does stop, saying that she hears them. They're still not sure how to talk to her and send Baby Boopit out with Beleth's toy horse. The Amdusias horse is taken aback by a baby approaching them, and Baby Boopit asks if they want to ride on the toy horse. When Amdusias pony doesn't respond, they say they can play "fight" instead. Amdusias horse is upset, fearing that they'll kill the baby if they try, and Baby Boopit baps it with the Toy Horse. Boopit asks why the big horse wants to fight all the time. Amdusias pony laughs feebly.

I'm not sure if this horse is still supposed to be Lily and Neon and Chip or what at this point. Amdusias pony says they remember their first War and some other version of themselves surrounded by pain and suffering. They say their song only healed those that remained. They say they've forgotten and so much was lost that they couldn't even keep track, it felt endless.

Boopit asks if Amdusias pony is tired and if they want to do something else. They say they're looking for bugs and ask Amdusias pony if they want to help.

what IS this angel at this point, how many characters is it

Beleth clarifies that they're looking for fairies. Amdusias says they remember now that they were looking for fairies and they were following the trail of the shays, the fairy bees (REMEMBER THOSE?), or that some other them was looking for the shays and someone else told them about the shays, but they can't remember who it was. Big hair, can see into other souls, who is it? The pony asks themselves. There's some music notes going by.

All of a sudden, ghost Orobas appears! Amdusias pony looks at her and wonders what she'd think if she saw her now, if she'd scold her or say she's creepy like before, or if she'd speak ill of her mother to her face (?). Orobas brushes it off, saying she likes it when she looks creepy, and says she's been doing a lot since Amdusias last saw her and she's been trying to figure out a way to help everyone. She says this was the only way things could go, since they'd tried the same thing over and over and over.

been a long time

Orobas does scold her for not taking breaks and tells her to trust Beleth to do this. Amdusias (when did this angel become Amdusias and how??) says she doesn't remember anyone named Beleth, and Orobas confirms that the witch in Jupet's story was her after all. She tells Amdusias that she's going to let Lily and Neon down if she doesn't help their kid out. She tells her to get moving and "no more knives this time" and that hurting is only okay in pretend.

Amdusias apologizes and says that she thought giving up was the best thing to do, since she thought the problem was her. Orobas says the problem was never with Amdusias, it was with the whole system, and Amdusias says she thought that Orobas wanted this to end and didn't want this (fighting angels, presumably) to be Amdusias's purpose. She says she told Orobas this would happen.

Orobas counters that Amdusias made it happen by taking the knife away from "him", since he wasn't going to do it. Amdusias says she couldn't have known that, and Orobas says that instead of seeing if he'd do it or not, she took the knife and made it happen, and then has the temerity to say she told her so. Amdusias apologizes. As usual this comic is going backwards for no reason, what they're actually talking about comes up in Who's Left and What's Right up ahead.

Orobas says that Amdusias is frustrating, with her apologies and trying to be right all the time. She says that she doesn't need a purpose ALL the time. Amdusias apologizes again, saying she didn't understand and she didn't know what she was doing, and she didn't understand what would happen to her. Orobas says it's okay and asks if she remembers when she (Orobas) broke her (Amdusias) leg and how Beleth helped them out and just wanted Amdusias to take a break to feel better.

incidentally that leg breaking story happened in a porn sidecomic and i'm not proud i know that

Orobas keeps reassuring her and Amdusias wonders why anyone would want to help her, and Orobas says that she's always wanted to and that she'll never regret the path she's taken with her. Amdusias wonders why Orobas would stay with her after all the pain she's put her through.

We cut back to the white world with Beleth who's hugging Amdusias's face. They say Amdusias's full title and say that she "shielded others from the full consequences of looking away". They chide Amdusias for going on ahead without them and that Amdusias always told them to go in groups of three (to protect against angel attacks I guess). Beleth says they'll find the fairies and then figure out what's happening with the seeds. They'll figure it out together this time!

The last card for this says "hey remember the seeds, those are still a thing". I've been waiting this whole time for a resolution to the seeds plot! I'm not the one who forgot!

Here's my best guess at what happened - Call-Clout say Lily and Neon somewhere they weren't supposed to be and meshed them into one being, then doomed them to be forgotten while disguising them as Amdusias. They maybe lost their memories around this point. Beleth manages to break Amdusias out of an angel haze and maybe Orobas is also there somehow, I don't know. I'm trying, man.

[fiiirsthero]

Princess. Queen. Did it really make much of a difference? Link wasn't so stupid as to not understand that there was a world of difference between the two titles, but it felt so... pointless to harp on it, especially when there was no King or Prince to fight with. She was the only Royal left, and until - or maybe unless? - she had a family, she would forever be the last of the Hylian Royal Family.

Some could, and would, argue that maybe that was ultimately for the best. Maybe it was high time for the Royal Family to die out, and with them all of their horrible secrets. Because there was no mistaking the fact that they did hold secrets, and who really could judge if that was for the best of Hyrule as a whole? Link had no doubt it truly was, but that was the nature of secrets; if you actually kept them, no one will ever know what it is you're doing for them.

"Was it corruption? Or were they just protectin' people against something they couldn't understand." He spoke loud enough that Zelda would be able to hear him, but his words were really said without the intention of getting a response. Again, another situation that could never be fully understood. It wasn't like the dead could rise up and give their answers. Not anymore, at least; the Sheikah were gone and Link doubted even their magicks would have been able to properly resurrect someone who had died that long ago.

In many ways, he supposed he was the last to be able to tell any of the tales, but... what stories did he know? Rather purposefully he had tried to avoid learning too many secrets, knowing that it wasn't his place to share them - and it equally wasn't his place to keep them.

"Let's say the first king did add the cells as a precaution. Doesn't that imply that something had still happened to lead him to believe that such a precaution would be necessary?" And while he didn't wince, part of Link did frown at the memory of his own time being incarcerated. There was truly nothing that men in power loved more than being able to lock up those who were helpless to stop them.

Her light illuminated their path better than any lantern could have. Down the winding steps they went and out into the walkways that would lead them to the remnants of old, battered prison cells. Most of them were half-destroyed, though whether that had happened before or after the Twilight was unknown to him.

"There's more beneath this." Whether or not she was aware of that didn't really matter. The walkway would lead to a dead-end, to a wall that had only been erected maybe a century or two prior. It wasn't even well hidden, the colorization entirely off being an almost beige compared to the dark greys of the stone surrounding it.

All it would take was a solid push to knock it down; age had taken away most of its structural integrity. And all he gave Zelda was a look over his shoulder before bracing his hands against the wall before giving a firm shove. There was a slight shift in it before it started to crumble back, disintegrating into a pile of dust and dirt.

Lower and lower they descended, making their way into the poorly lit, ramshackle depths of the castle. It was getting harder to see, but the Queen of Hyrule refrained from using her light magic, opting to conserve her energy as there were still torches to help light their path — few but they did exist.

Guards ordinarily patrolled the dungeons of the castle, though that was mostly to ensure no one had found a way to sneak into the palace via the dungeons from outside, considering it was rare for them to hold prisoners in any of the cells they currently passed. The number of guards on duty in this portion was increased after everything they’d all experienced with the Twilight Realm, but it was a safety measure; Zelda hadn’t believed they would be fighting such a dark evil again so soon.

A scowl pulled at the royal’s rouged lips, eyes slicing through the darkness to Link as he once again referred to her with that title of endearment — ‘little Princess.’ Her sentries might have gawked to see someone so bold, but Zelda instead settled for rolling her eyes. “As Queen of Hyrule,” she’d put a strong emphasis on the position she held, “I know Hyrule has had a trying history, often filled with darkness. I also know the Royal Family has seen various degrees of corruption over the centuries. The tomes in the palace do not say that outright, but the underlying implication is there.” 

Stepping forward, Zelda raised her right hand, a ball of light emitting from gloved fingers, growing larger until it was near the size of her outstretched hand in diameter, perhaps slightly bigger. The golden orb was brilliant and hovered before her as she pressed on, “I was under the impression that the vast number of cells were added by one of those prior corrupt rulers — someone that viewed their power and title as a right to conquer rather than protect. Or perhaps one of the first kings added them purely as a precaution, not quite knowing what to expect for his kingdom.”

She stiffened at the mention of her father, shoulders pulled back and eyes wide until she forced her face into an expression of cool neutrality. “My father…we did not always see eye to eye. Especially when it came to our preferred ruling styles.”

She thought no further explanation necessary.

[lonewolfel]

Attack of Zakuul: Chapter 9

Read on AO3

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8

Inspired by this post on Tumblr by @bluezeri

Thexan looked around at the planet. The large trees and the wooden walkways were primitive, yes, but incredible. There was nothing like them in Zakuul. 

Thexan looked over at the Jedi. Onorshash was clearly still unhappy about this mission. Thexan had mixed feelings about this. Slavery was barbaric and was completely wiped out in Zakuul so he couldn't blame the group for wanting to destroy a slavery corporation's facility. Though Onorshash was right as well they had too many enemies already.

The group was met with a large wooden gate. Honestly, Thexan couldn't see how that would stop anyone from entering. 

"Jedi," Ciece said. Onorshash took a step forward and outstretched a hand. In response, the wood began to splint. She then clenched her hand causing the wood to become nothing but crushed and splintered p]eaces of wood that fell harmlessly to the walkway. This created a hole for the group to walk through. 

Alarms began to blare. Thexan reached for his lightsaber only to be reminded that he didn't have it. He was walking into a battle without a weapon. Onorshash was the same but she didn't seem nervous not to mention in their last battle she barely used her lightsaber. Red blaster bolts flew through the air. 

"Don't use fire. We don't want to risk setting the entire place on fire." Onorshash called out. There were a couple of groans but no one voiced any arguments. 

Some Czerka enforcers rushed forward with vibroblades. Onorshash responded quickly sending a wave through the force knocking the enforcers off their feet. Despite that, they kept coming. 

Onorshash kept using the Force to push back the attackers. Thexan wasn't sure what he was supposed to do. He wasn't strong in the Force as the Jedi but he also didn't have a weapon to fight. 

A few enemies managed to escape the waves of the Force Onorshash sent out. They rushed towards the group and Thexan intercepted them. He knew some hand-to-hand combat and with an increased strength that the Force could grant him, he might be able to overcome some of them. 

Thexan dodged the attacks and even managed to grab one of the vibroblades. It was awkward and clanky not nearly as balanced as his lightsaber but it would work. Blood sprayed around him and metal clashed together. 

"The door is closing!" Onorshash cried out. Thexan looked over and saw that the large metal door to the building was in fact closing. He doubted that there was another way to get in definitely without a lightsaber to cut it open.

The distraction allowed Thexan's attacker an opening. They managed to strike a blow on his arm. He turned around growling and through the attacker with the Force. 

"Time to move out!" Ciece ordered. The blaster-wielding teammates came out of their hiding spots and began to move forward still shooting and dodging. 

Thexan joined them along with Onorshash they began to move forward. Onorshash pushed back the enemies with the Force while everyone but Thexan shot them. 

They were almost at the door. Though the door was closing fast. It was only a meter above the floor. Onorshash stopped and reached out through the Force. The door abruptly stopped closing with loud creaks and wines of the machine.  

The non-Force users quickly rushed through the door. Thexan paused. Onorshash remained frozen in place in deep concentration. Her feet dug deep enough into the platform that the wood was beginning to splinter and crack. 

Thexan without thinking grabbed the Jedi and rolled both of them under the door before it closed. Onorshash was gasping for air. The green skin of her face was a brighter shade. Ciece began to laugh.

"That's one way to get in. Never thought that I would be grateful for a Jedi." Ciece chuckled. The Wookie let out a laugh as well. 

"Let's blow this joint, Cyar'ika." Torian said. Ciece gave a Kath hound grin that made Thexan uncomfortable. 

Both Thexan and Onorshash got to their feet. Onorshash swayed a little bit but managed to steady herself on her own quickly. They moved through the hallways. Whenever they reached Czerka guards Onorshash pushed them back and knocked them out. The Mandalorians placed detonators along the wall. 

"Alright last one. Then we blow this joint and get drunk." Ciece said. The Wookie growled his agreement.

"More Czerka guards are heading our way," Onorshash said. The Wookie growled something that Thexan didn't understand. Onorshash shook her head.

"Thirty at least. Too many to fight certainly with the detonators running the risk of going off with all of us caught in the crossfire." Onorshash explained. All of the Mandalorians cursed. 

"Any chance we can escape without drawing fire?" Thexan asked. Onorshash bit her lip.

"Slim but it's our best bet," Onorshash responded.

Onorshash began to lead the group through hallways. Through various hallways with no enemies. Soon they were met with a thick metal door. 

"I'll get the door," Ciece said. They rushed over to the terminal and began to slice into it. Onorshash turned around from the door. The Force rippled around her. Footsteps began to approach the group.

"Keep working on the door," Onorshash said. A large group of Czerka employees rushed into the area. Some with blasters others with vibrobades.

Both Force-wielders met the vibro-wielding enemies. Thexan met each blade with his own. Onorshash created shields and pushed back enemies with the Force. The Wookie and Torian blasted at the enemies. 

"Watch out!" Onorshash cried out. She pushed Thexan out of the way and a golden shield surrounded him. A loud boom sounded signaling that a grenade had just gone off. Onorshash let out a groan of pain and the gold shield vanished.

"Got it!" Ciece called out. They began to help fight back against Czerka. "Let's go we've overstayed are welcome."

Thexan looked over towards the Jedi. Onorshash was on her knees. Her robes were smoking and burning. There was the slight smell of burns and blood. Shrapnel from the frag-grenade was piercing various parts of her body along with cuts. The burns were the most prevalent in her legs. 

"Are you alright?" Thexan asked. Onorshash tried to stand only to collapse. 

"We need to go," Onorshash said. The Wookie picked up the Jedi and began to head out of the building. 

Torian activated the detinators as they escaped. They rushed back to the ship. Yezese greeted them. 

"Job done?" Yezese asked. 

"Czerka will be rebuilding their operation for a long time," Ciece said. Torian wrapped his arm around the bounty hunter. The Wookie set down the injured Jedi. The Wookie said something to the smuggler.

"'Ake her ta medbay, Bowdaar." Yezese said. The Wookie did as she said. Thexan watched him take the Jedi away.

"Relax, she'll be fine," Ciece said. Thexan turned towards them. They somehow already had a drink in their hand. 

"I'm not worried." Thexan shot back. The Mandalorian snorted at that.

"Sure." Ciece dismissed.

~~~

Thexan walked into the medbay. It was small but well stocked which wasn't surprising considering it was a smuggling vessel. 

Onorshash was laying in the medbay bed reading something from her datapad. Her legs were wrapped and her cuts were covered.

"Hello." Onorshash greeted without looking up from her datapad.

"How are you?" Thexan asked.

"Good, I'm healing nicely," Onorshash answered. Thexan stood there in the doorway. He had something to say he just wasn't sure how to bring it up. A moment of silence passed between them. "Though you didn't come here just to ask my health."

"Why did you do that?" Thexan asked. Onorshash put down her datapad.

"Do what?" Onorshash asked.

"Save me. Push me out of the way and shielded him only to take the hit yourself." Thexan elaborated.

"Despite what you believe I do care about you. I think of you as a friend. I protect my friends." Onorshash explained. 

Thexan didn't know how to feel about that knowledge. No one would have done that for him, in fact, he could hardly even imagine Arcann doing this for him. He was technically her enemy and yet she kept laying down her life for him. 

Onorshash knew nothing about him. Yet she felt she knew him well enough to call him a friend.

How did this make any sense?

Thexan decided that this was too much to deal with. He walked away. 

[deonaenaeh]

genshin men — seeing them cry for the first time

because i like to make myself suffer

• genshin men x neutral!reader

✎ currently editing more parts

!! warning : heavy angst !!

┌─ ❊ scaramouche

Tonight was the night. It was now or never. You’d rather be rejected than live in regret.

“Scara…?”

Scaramouche was staring into the distance when he heard the window open and aggressively wiped his face before turning towards you.

“What are you doing here?! You’d get your Vision confiscated! Also what do you think a door is for, stupid?!” He spat in surprise. His eyes were red.

He realized he had sounded angrier than he thought.

He certainly did not expect you to come visit him the night before your trip. Though, a part of him was relieved upon seeing you again one last time. He was definitely not crying about you just earlier.

Scaramouche always found it difficult to express his emotions. In fact he wasn’t allowed to feel any. He was a Fatui Harbinger. He’s supposed to be conquering and destroying. But he just can’t do that to you.

“Just…just GO AWAY!” He was about to turn his back on you when you started sobbing.

You flinched. “I-I’m sorry…I…I just wanted to check up on you before I left for Mondstadt…”

Seeing you cry pained him knowing he hurt you. He always did.

You’ve never seen him like this. Yes, he is snarky and aggressive. But when you looked into his eyes, you realized he wasn’t trembling in anger, but in fear. He wasn’t the Scaramouche that you know.

“Why do you always push me away…?” You asked.

“BECAUSE I LOVE YOU,______!” The Harbinger blurted.

You looked up at him in shock, and also in slight confusion.

“I always have…”

He finally faced you.

“I always push you away because I always hurt you. I’m mean and cold and aggressive and everything you don’t deserve…”

He was beginning to tear up once again.

“Can’t you see?! I’m a Harbinger. I’m part of the Fatui. I’m a psychopath! I’m a threat to everyone!”

He was sobbing so hard at this point that he was choking.

“But most importantly, I’m a threat to you! And it hurts to see you always crying just because of me. Just because I was mean. Just because I was careless with my words and actions! Everyday, I regret the way I treat you just because of my status as a Harbinger. I regret putting on an act just because they can’t catch me being vulnerable. But I love you, ______. So much. You have no idea how much I want to hold you close to me. But I can’t…I’m toxic and dangerous. And I’d rather lose you if it means you’d be safe and sound from me…”

He was blushing from his sudden confession. You can tell how much he was having a hard time to find the right words just to explain what he was feeling.

“Can’t you see?! I don’t deserve someone as kind and caring as you are. You deserve someone better…”

It hurt seeing him suffering internally as much as it hurt him seeing you suffer because of him.

“Yet you keep choosing me over everyone else! And I keep falling for you every time! Why, ______? Why do you keep coming back to me?!”

You slowly reached out to him but he backed away. “Stay away…”

But you didn’t listen. You kept reaching out to him until you got ahold of his hands and squeezed them tight so he wouldn’t get away.

“Because I love you, Scaramouche.”

He stopped fighting your grip and his eyes flooded with tears.

“You do…?”

“I do.”

That was all he ever wanted to hear from someone. Now he was finally hearing it for the first time.

“I know you’re wondering why. But it’s simply just because I do. Call me stupid but I believe you deserve to be loved too.”

You wiped his tears.

His eyes were filled with so much pain, yet you could see a pint of hope in them.

“I can see that there’s still good in you, Scara. I hope you keep that in mind.”

At this point his eyes were just filled with sadness.

“Is that why you returned to me?”

“And just so you know, I’ll keep doing so.”

He smiled. It was a heartbreaking one.

“Thank you for not giving up on me.”

“I never will.”

You held him close and he quivered in surprise.

“It’s okay.”

He stopped holding back and hugged you, holding you tightly like he never wanted to let go.

Then, the door rattled. Both of you would be dead if anyone found you together.

You reluctantly let him go but he kept holding your hands and you longingly stared at each other in silence.

There were so many things left unsaid racing in both of your minds but none had enough time to say them.

You scurried out of the window as Scaramouche held your hand.

You gripped his hand tighter as you looked up at him.

Drawn like a magnet, you kissed for the first and last time.

“I love you, Scaramouche.”

“I’ll never stop loving you, ______.”

Then your hands drifted apart.

[trustsarchive]

erinjareau​:

trustschaos said: ❛maybe in some masochistic way i kind of find it all exciting.❜

The sudden admission from her whatever-they-were made Erin choke on a humourless laugh, eyes still hooded in a half-closed state from the exhaustion weighing heavily in her bones. She was dazed from the substances still mingling in her veins, alcohol and oxycodone coming together to make sure she got plenty of sleep after the adderall that kept them alert all night had begun to leave the system.

She was splayed out across her couch, barely dressed but not caring; not about the chilly air, not about the exposed skin, not about the fact that she couldn’t remember the last time she ate something real. She was fine. She wasn’t happy, but she wasn’t sad either which was all that really counted. Lauren was company, support, comfort – Erin didn’t tell her when to stop, she didn’t tell Erin when to stop. They just did what they did together, no judgement.

Never mind that recently, her most sober moments had begun to fill with emotions toward Lauren that she hadn’t hoped for or expected.

“Which part?” Her words were slow, her voice drawn out and relaxed much like the rest of her, and her head lulled from side to side across the armrest of the couch. “The sober pain, the ups and downs, the amazing orgasms?”

she never thought she’d find herself here again.   getting away from her mother  —  from the woman all but encouraging her eldest daughter to fall down a rabbit hole alongside her.  and she had.  she had,  and she’d pulled herself out of it with a rise in ambition  —  to become a doctor,  just like her dad.  to help people.  then college had been...  tricky,  with plenty she wished to forget and  —  well,  how’s a person supposed to cope when they never learned to do anything but mirror their alcoholic,  addict mother?  it’d always been drowning your feelings,  pushing down anything that hurt...  all while balancing school,  ensuring nessa wasn’t wholly fucked up,  and trying to exist in an environment that could’ve truly destroyed her...  had she let it.

and now?  now loneliness had led to old habits.  she works and then she finds herself spending nearly every other moment with erin.  avoiding her feelings,  avoiding floyd,  avoiding everything except for the distractions that the other woman seems prepared to provide in spades.

thank god for that.  thank god for the moments she’s felt alive for the first time in too damn long  —  with nothing but her job offering much meaning at all.  not that there’s all that much meaning behind her time with erin,  but it’s something.  a bandage,  maybe,  attempting to cover a wound that seeps down to her soul.  something a mere bandage could never really fix,  but for now it’ll have to do.  for now it’s sufficient,  and that’s all that really matters. 

truthfully,  lauren’s not entirely sure where the thought comes from.  hell,  she’s shocked at the realization that she’d spoken it aloud as the fog surrounding her mind lingers heavily   ❪  and hidden beneath is a terror associated with lucidity that’s unrelated to work  ❫.   her job.  that’s just about all lauren can bring herself to care about   ❪  with hints of something else creeping in.  it’s ivy slipping through cracks in the wall so carefully built around herself,  insistent and invasive and existing with a lingering question as to whether she should simply give in and let it come.  to stop fighting,  denying,  avoiding...  even if it’s just for one more thing.

one more person.

her head rolls to the side,  allowing her to meet erin’s gaze in perfect time with a shrug.   “all of it,  maybe.  i dunno,  i don’t even know where that came from.  all of it seems right though,  doesn’t it?  seems...  seems like it fits,”

[dreamofbecoming]

pale shadows of forgotten names

so people seem to be enjoying my writing lately, and i realized i never properly posted my first witcher fic on here when i first wrote it- i posted a link to the ao3, but i wasn’t super active in the fandom yet and i didn’t make it readable on tumblr. so i thought i would share it here now, in case anyone is interested, and because it’s nice to have all my writing together in my tag on here

pls note i knew even less about the non-netflix canon then than i do now, so everything about spying is just made up lmao

ao3

geraskier, post-s2, getting together

rating: t

wc: 13k

“Might be best if I stay out of Redania for a while, actually.”

“If you get arrested, I’ll just break you out again. There’s a book there I need, the copy in Kaer Morhen’s library was destroyed. Vesemir said he knew someone in Oxenfurt who might be able to get his hands on one.” Geralt’s tone, as usual, leaves very little room for argument. Luckily, Jaskier has never needed much room when it comes to arguing. Certainly not with Geralt.

“It’s not just that, I really shouldn’t get close to Tretogor anytime soon, either. Especially with Ciri being hunted by half the Continent.” He’s hoping desperately that they won’t ask why, but who is he kidding. His luck is never that good.

“And why, exactly, is Tretogor a problem? Not that we would want to parade around a capital city regardless, but I’m curious. Oxenfurt I get, they’ll be looking for the Sandpiper, I’m sure, or at least the twit that broke out of their jail, but what’s in Tretogor?”

Damn the fucking witch, always too perceptive for her own good. And to think he was almost starting to like her. Well, at least the familiarity of wanting to claw her eyes out is comforting.

Jaskier sighs. He should probably be honest with them if they’re going to travel together, though who knows how long that state of affairs will last this time. Still, he’s not going to risk Ciri. He’d have kept his silence if it were just Geralt and the witch- he already has, in fact, and it worked for nearly 20 years, after all- but Ciri is precious cargo. The rules have changed.

Plus, Yen could probably just read his mind now that she has her magic back. Fucking sorceresses.

Speaking of, “Alright, but not here,” he sighs. “Wait until we make camp and Yen can set up wards or silencing spells or something.” He hasn’t noticed any white owls following them, but she’s always been good at avoiding being seen. That’s sort of the point, he supposes.

“Who do we need wards from, Jaskier? Are you being followed? Should I have left you behind? Did I put Ciri in danger by trusting you?” Geralt’s voice is hard, and Jaskier feels hurt pool in his belly for a moment before cold anger takes its place again.

“Considering I just traipsed halfway across the continent and back, no questions asked, and nearly died trying to help stop a fucking demon from killing her, what the fuck do you think, Geralt? I’ll remind you that only one of us has known and loved her since she was small. Do you really believe I would do that to her? To you?” And maybe that last bit wasn’t really meant to come out, certainly not in that small, sad little voice, but Jaskier is nothing if not a master of pushing through slip ups and missed lines. He’s a goddamn professional. He doesn’t let his expression change where he’s glaring up at Geralt’s stupid, angry, handsome face. Fucker.

He’s traveled with Geralt a long time. Almost a quarter century, on and off (including this last year, which was most decidedly off), more than half of that physically by his side. He knows the Witcher’s face better than he knows his own, and he can predict Geralt’s reaction in almost any scenario you care to name. A perceived threat met with scorn will make him double down on his anger, almost guaranteed. Jaskier knew this going in, but he didn’t spend half a year belting his rage and betrayal to every student and passing traveler in a hundred miles (not to even mention the whole ‘living through a massacre’ thing) to be cowed by Geralt’s glower now, no matter how distressingly sexy it may or may not still be. Or how it maybe still makes his stomach twist with something sick and anxious at the idea of having disappointed him. Again. Fuck that. Geralt has no right to be disappointed in him, not this time.

So naturally he’s a little shocked when, after a few more seconds of unreasonably attractive scowling, Geralt, improbably, backs down.

He heaves a sigh where’s he’s perched on (new) Roach, a sleeping Ciri safely ensconced in his arms on the saddle in front of him. His eyes fall shut for a moment, and when they open, the cold fury is gone, replaced with something that looks a lot like…regret? Sadness? It’s hard to tell in the dark, but regardless, the air of melancholy around him right now is out of character for this particular situation, and extremely disconcerting. Jaskier is definitely disconcerted.

“You’re right. I’m sorry, Jaskier. I do trust you. There’s a cave not far from here, it shouldn’t be too hard to secure. We can make camp soon.”

Was that…an apology? An actual, genuine expression of remorse, unprompted and freely given? He pokes Geralt’s upsettingly firm calf, staring incredulously.

“Are you really Geralt? Do I need to check you with silver or something? Yen, read his mind. Is he some kind of Doppler? Is this actually our Witcher?”

Geralt’s face is flatly unamused, and he kicks out to swat Jaskier’s hand away. Luckily, Jaskier has decades of practice avoiding Witcher speed for annoyance purposes, and pulls his hand back before Geralt can accidentally break his fingers or something. At least, he thinks it would be accidental. Probably.

Atop her borrowed mare, curtesy of Kaer Morhen’s surprisingly impressive herd, Yen raises a perfectly sculpted eyebrow at Geralt’s obvious irritation. “It’s a fair question, Geralt. Immediate, unsolicited apologies for bad behavior are not exactly your brand.” Jaskier is grudgingly impressed that she manages to keep the arch look on her face despite his current frigid distance from her. Apparently they’re not back to mutual teasing levels of familiarity yet, though he’s sure it will only be a matter of time before they’re back to forgetting he’s there mid-sentence to go fuck like stupidly attractive, scary, powerful rabbits. Won’t that be fun to live through again.

Geralt glares harder. Jaskier can’t actually see his face well enough to be sure, but he can always feel when Geralt is glaring, and the angry face quotient in the air definitely goes up a few degrees.

“Cave’s just up here. Jaskier, start setting up camp. Yen, wards. I’ll get Ciri and the horses settled and find something for supper.” He nudges Roach’s flanks and pulls ahead, aiming for a little gap in the trees near a rocky outcropping Jaskier can just barely make out in the scant moonlight. Conversation over then, at least for now.

Yen looks vaguely affronted. “Is it always like this? Traveling with him?”

“What, the glowering? Or the barked orders and being left behind?” If perhaps those words are a touch more bitter than they would have been a year and a half ago, well. That’s no one’s business but his own.

“Both, I suppose? The time I’ve spent with him has rarely been on the road, but he’s never been quite so…demanding. We didn’t exactly do much talking on the way to Kaer Morhen. I’m quite sure he would happily have killed me, or at least have been actively trying to shake me and leave me in the dust, if he hadn’t been so focused on getting to Ciri as quickly as possible.” There’s something brittle and harsh in her tone that feels uncomfortably familiar. It’s far too much like the heavy weight in his ribcage these days, sharp-edged and desperate and miserable.

“If life could give me one blessing, it would be to take you off my hands!” The hurt and dread freezing his blood in his veins, ice cold and inexorable. The awful silence, waiting for him to take it back, to laugh, to say it was all a horrible joke, or even a dream. The yawning pit of heartbreak and despair that started to rend his chest open, as the reality set in that this was actually it, actually the end, after everything-

Nope. No. Absolutely not. He is done with that, thank you. He is quite finished reliving that moment again and again (and again), he has put it behind him, he is a different man now. A stronger man. A man who won’t betray the loyalty he promised so long ago, but who refuses to let his heart back into the mix this time. He wrote a song about it and everything.

Funny how he almost believes it.

“Oh, I’m sure he was always far more…solicitous with you, darling. This is pretty much standard. The apology is new, and I’m a little surprised he’s letting me set up camp unsupervised,” (this is said with an impressively deep eye-roll, of course), “but besides that, yeah.”

He should be offended that he’s surprised to be given that responsibility, probably. He’s actually a remarkably competent traveler, both with company and without, but even towards the end it rarely occurred to Geralt that Jaskier managed to survive by himself for months or years at a time, or that the camp ended up much the same as it started even when he felt the need to redo all of Jaskier’s work, or that he wasn’t the one cooking the food he hunted or patching his own wounds when Jaskier was around. Not even the handful of times their camp was targeted by bandits, and several of them were already dead by the time Geralt got to them, seemed to register. Or all the times he came back addled and injured from a hunt, and Jaskier knew exactly which potions he needed to recover, and where to find them. Jaskier isn’t sure the great White Wolf ever even noticed a difference. He’s once again a little amazed that it took him so long to see it, that those furious words on the mountaintop actually managed to catch him by surprise. Love really is blind, he supposes.

The cave isn’t huge, but there’s enough room for four bedrolls and a small fire pit without having to snuggle up too close to each other, and it’s dry and lacking in horrid smells or angry monsters, so Jaskier has definitely seen worse.

Roach is tied near the cave entrance, under a small overhang jutting out from the rock to provide her some shelter from the elements. He wants to ask what happened to the old Roach, his- well. Not his Roach anymore, he supposes, not for a while, but he was still fond of her. It had taken years to win her over, but they were good friends by the end, he thought. Certainly she was freer with her affection than her rider. (Which, he realizes now, probably had more to do with his dearth of affection actually available than with his crushing emotional incompetence.) It isn’t really his place to ask, not anymore, but he wishes he could. New Roach is fine, she’s admittedly beautiful and probably a lovely animal, but he misses his friend.

Jaskier has the camp fully set up and a small fire going, near enough to the entrance not to fill the cave with smoke, but far enough inside so as not to be easily seen, and Yen has left her mount next to Roach, filled their waterskins, and is finishing up with the last of the wards shielding them from being found or overheard, when Geralt returns bearing…an entire deer. Fucking overachieving cockhead. He’s cleaning that shit himself, Jaskier isn’t interested. It definitely isn’t sexy seeing Geralt stride in, slightly blood-spattered, biceps bulging, thighs flexing, evidence of his prowess slung easily over his shoulders like a king’s mantle…nope. Not sexy at all. Jaskier isn’t even looking. He certainly isn’t biting back an embarrassing whimper.

He turns around hastily to begin rummaging through his pack for his spices and cooking supplies, filched from Kaer Morhen, of course, since all he had on him when Geralt found him in Oxenfurt was his charm and good looks. He wishes he had his lute, but it’s probably in pieces, rotting in a rubbish heap in Redania. He’ll mourn her at some point. Besides, he’s not sure he would be able to stop himself playing Burn, Butcher, Burn just on reflex, so it’s probably for the best.

They eat a decent supper of venison stew, Ciri waking just long enough to scarf down a bowl and collapse back onto her bedroll. Demon possession and Sphere-jumping really seem to take it out of a person.

Yen tosses another silencing charm around Ciri’s bedroll (they’ll fill her in tomorrow- they don’t intend to keep secrets from her but she deserves her sleep) and Geralt gets to work packing the leftover venison in salt for the road, before they both look up at him expectantly with eerily similar, piercing gazes. Violet and gold, a royal combination if ever there was one. Oh, that’s nice actually, there’s a song in there somewhere. Not one he wants to sing, really, but he’ll probably end up writing it at some point anyway.

“Alright, sharing time, I guess. Always figured this was coming eventually. Not that I imagined anything like this, what with the demons and the horrible rock monsters and the dimension hopping and- yes, yes, alright, I’m getting to it. Calm down.” He heaves a sigh. Hopefully they don’t toss him out on his arse after this, or just kill him. He doesn’t think they’d kill him. Would they? No, they wouldn’t. Probably.

“So you know I’m technically Redanian.” Yennefer nods expectantly while Geralt just. Blinks at him. Fucking gods, honestly. “Wow, ok, you really never paid attention at all when I talked, huh? That makes sense, actually. I guess I should have figured that.” He’s staring into the fire to shield the hurt in his eyes, so he misses the matching look on Geralt’s face before he presses on.

“Anyway, yeah, I’m Redanian, from Kerack, Lettenhove to be specific. Seriously? I’ve introduced myself to a dozen people in front of you with my full name, you really never- ok, yeah, right, never mind. Moving on. Julian Pankratz, Viscount de Lettenhove. That’s me. Or, it was. Technically it still is, but I never wanted the title. I never wanted that life. I left for Oxenfurt as soon as I was old enough, and when I graduated I went on the road, and then. Well. Then I met you, and, well, you know. You were there. For the rest. Some of it, anyway. Right. Well, Vizimir, or more likely someone on his council, since Vizimir is about as savvy and creative as a garden slug, and almost as charming, and I’m not sure if Dijkstra was advising him at that point-“ He catches Yennefer’s sharp look at Dijkstra’s name, but barrels on, “-anyway, someone noticed that a minor Redanian noble was doing a lot of very visible traveling all over the Continent and associating with a lot of people the Crown wouldn’t normally have an in with, and figured that would be useful. I think at this point, we’d been traveling together…2? 3 years? Something like that. Long enough that I’d started building a name for myself, definitely. Or, for us, I suppose. That’s why they noticed me in the first place.”

He knows he’s babbling, but there are nerves roiling in his gut like a cauldron, and that feeling has always translated into more words, for him. Like a pressure valve. He pauses and risks a glance at the person whose reaction he’s genuinely worried about.

Yen will understand, she’s been in and out of courts and noble circles and political tangles for decades, she knows how this works. She probably won’t trust him, but he’s fairly sure she doesn’t trust him now, so that’s no great loss. He doesn’t trust her either.

Geralt has a more…rigid concept of morality. In Geralt’s world, there are Right Things and Wrong Things. Sometimes you have to do Wrong Things to prevent Wronger Things, but that doesn’t make them not Wrong. And anything to do with kings and courts is usually Wrong. There’s a good chance Geralt might never forgive him for this, or if he does, he won’t be able to look past Jaskier keeping it from him so long.

Geralt’s eyes are fixed on his face, sharp and intent, and utterly unreadable. Jaskier thought he had gotten pretty good over the years at reading the subtle shifts in Geralt’s expressions- the tiny crinkles around his eyes when he wanted to laugh, the minute furrow between his brows when he was confused, the slight tick in his jaw when he was frustrated- but his face is as blank as new parchment right now, nothing but the glint in his golden eyes that says he’s listening to every word out of Jaskier’s mouth.

What a time for him to start doing that, he thinks bitterly. Decades of tuning him out when he thought they were friends, and now that Jaskier might be driving him away for good (again, a tiny voice whispers viciously), he’s hanging on every syllable.

“I was approached by a member of the royal intelligence service, and told that the king had ordered that I be recruited as a spy. Technically I am still nobility, and as such I’m obligated to obey the crown. And while I would gladly give up all the trappings of my title and never be anyone but Jaskier the bard ever again, at the time there would have been serious consequences for refusing, and not the kind that would fall on me. I’m technically a Lord, and I do have people I’m responsible for. I left people in charge that I trust to take care of them in my stead, but it’s my name they’re working under. And if I refused a direct order from Vizimir, I wouldn’t be the one to suffer for it. It wasn’t an option.”

He doesn’t look up from the fire. He doesn’t want to see the expressions on their faces, so he presses on, heart thumping wildly in his chest.

“I did my best to keep my reports…not vague, exactly, but mostly useless, I guess? Obviously I have no interest in being a part of whatever bullshit Vizimir or any other king feels like stirring up, but I had to send them something. Little stuff, mostly, frivolous gossip from the taverns I played in, details of drama and rivalries I picked up in various courts or nobles’ beds. Sometimes accounts of monster populations or incidents if there was anything especially notable, since they knew that’s a lot of what I was doing with my time. Nothing actionable, but useful enough that I couldn’t be accused of shirking my duties.” He’s suddenly struck with an awful fear, and he looks up desperately into slitted golden eyes. “I never said a word about Ciri, Geralt, you have to believe me. I told them about that night, and I had to mention that Pavetta had magic because there’s no way that wouldn’t get out some other way, but I never said a word about a Witcher claiming a Child Surprise. I would never risk her like that, or you, you have to believe me. Please say you believe me Geralt, whatever you think of me, that I would never betray you like that. Please.”

He knows he sounds frantic, that he must look insane, that he can’t stop his begging mouth like a runaway cart, but the thought of Geralt thinking even for a second that Jaskier would ever put orders from a king he cared nothing for over Geralt’s own life, over the life of a child, is a knife in his gut, twisting and pulling until Jaskier thinks he might vomit if Geralt doesn’t say something.

The blank expression is gone, and Geralt looks somewhat taken aback. His brow furrows a little in what looks like confusion, before settling into resignation, or maybe chagrin. Jaskier thinks for a moment that he sees a brief flash of what almost looks like…grief? That can’t be right…in his eyes, but it’s gone as soon as it appeared, and Jaskier thinks he must have imagined it.

Geralt takes a swig from his waterskin and draws in a deep breath before speaking.

“I wasn’t worried that you betrayed Ciri, Jaskier. I know you would cut off your own arm before you did something like that. I don’t love where it sounds like this story is going, but I promise, I’ll never be concerned about that.”

That’s…well, those are more words than he was expecting, surely. And different words than he was expecting, too. He would assume that Geralt is placating him, to calm him down and get him to finish talking, but he can hear the sincerity in his voice. Geralt’s eyes are almost imploring, as if he’s as anxious for Jaskier to believe him as Jaskier had been to be believed. He…isn’t sure what to do with that, actually.

He knows Geralt came back for him, knows he was at least not lying when he said he missed him (though how much is anyone’s guess), knows he trusts him to travel with his…his little family, to help keep them safe or at least not make things worse, but he never assumed it went beyond that.

Geralt was clear, on that mountain. Even if he’s sorry now, even if he missed having him around, he meant those words at the time, and Jaskier has no illusions that he won’t get to that point again. Geralt may have spat those words in helpless anger, may have turned his ire on someone who had nothing to do with the state he was in at that moment, but Geralt doesn’t say things he doesn’t mean. He says plenty of things he regrets, but he always means them at the time. He did, at one point, believe Jaskier to be a curse and a burden, and Jaskier is fully aware that he will come to that belief again, eventually.

He knows what that particular heartbreak feels like, now. He knows he can survive it, even if he wishes he wouldn’t, sometimes. Mostly, he knows that it will always, always be worth it. Geralt will always be worth it.

Gods but he’s a lovesick fool.

But now, instead of cold distain, or fiery wrath, or, worst of all, blank indifference, Geralt is looking at him like…like he’s sorry. Like he’s desperate for Jaskier’s forgiveness. Forgiveness for what? Jaskier is the one who hid the fact that he was a spy for most of their relatio- friendship. Acquaintanceship. Association. Whichever one wouldn’t piss Geralt off. Geralt hasn’t fucked up here, this time at least.

But he could never resist when Geralt asked him like this for anything, with genuine emotion instead grunted contempt, with even the vaguest hint of affection, like maybe Geralt enjoyed spending time with Jaskier, too. Like maybe Jaskier mattered to Geralt, at least a fraction of how much Geralt mattered to Jaskier. Gods above, he’s so weak for this man.

“Ok. Alright, good. That’s good. I’m glad. Thank you. I know I- anyway. Thank you. Right, where was I? Yes, ok, reports. So I kept myself mostly useless for pretty much the whole time we were together. I mean- not. Not together, obviously, but traveling together. As friends. Or not friends. Whatever. What was I saying?” He’s spiraling, fuck, he’s spiraling, he needs to get out of this, how does he get out of this?

Geralt is looking even more confused than before, but Yennefer is definitely laughing at him in her head. Witch. Like she isn’t just as much of a mess for him. She should be on his side! They bonded over this already and everything!

At least the indignation is enough for him to pull out of the whirlpool of awkward babble and self-sabotage he was trapped in, and he manages to right himself.

“Anyway! Ok! So! Right, well, things changed not quite a year ago, now, after the raid on Bleobheris.” He sobers at the memories, the scent of blood and the sound of screams suddenly heavy in the dry air of the cave. “It was…brutal. I’ve never seen anything like that, not in all my years Witchering with you. I wanted to help. I needed to do something, to…fix something. Anything, no matter how small. That’s when I was contacted by an anonymous benefactor, who offered to fund an effort to smuggle refugees to Xin’Trea. Word had spread about Nilfgaard’s alliance with the elves, that they could be safe there.”

“So the Sandpiper was born,” Yennefer says.

“Right. But I don’t like not knowing where my help is coming from and why. I may not have been a very useful spy in Redania’s eyes for the last 20 years, but it actually takes quite a bit of effort to be ineffective without being useless enough to fire or kill, and as it turns out, I’m actually quite good at it. Call it the performer’s heart in me, or something. So I was able to ferret out that the man behind the money was Sigismund Dijkstra, who had managed to get himself appointed spymaster to Vizimir, which, interestingly, made him my employer, as well as my benefactor.”

Yen looks up sharply again at Dijkstra’s name. Jaskier turns to her, curious.

“You’re familiar, I assume?”

“He’s been causing rifts at Aretuza, riling up the Brotherhood,” she says, brow furrowed. “Pretending to bring counsel and information but really just sowing discord. I’m not clear on the details, but I know elves were mentioned. There are those on the council who take issue with my heritage, so I try to keep on top of the rumors. I wasn’t at Aretuza for long, though, and I…didn’t exactly leave on good terms. I haven’t got many friends left there.” Geralt glances at her sympathetically.

Jaskier nods. “That sounds like him. I wouldn’t trust that man to clean my privy, much less provide thousands of crowns, probably from Vizimir’s coffers, for a worthy cause with no expectations of repayment.” He shakes his head. “I kept my suspicions to myself, though, the network needed the coin and regardless of his motivations, we really were helping people. I wasn’t going to let that go to waste.

“I guess, with me finally settling in one place for so long, and probably Dijkstra feeling like I owed him for the funding, even though I wasn’t meant to know it was him, they started expecting more from me, in terms of intelligence. I didn’t really have a choice, since now they always knew where to find me if they wanted to cause me problems, and besides, Dijkstra was already privy to the network’s efforts anyway as the main benefactor, so I figured it was mostly alright that I’ve had to give more…comprehensive reports to Vizimir the last several months.

“Since Cintra fell, most people know about Ciri, or at least that she’s on the game-board somehow. There are rumors of Nilfgaard searching for a Witcher, so I’m sure some people have put together that you’re involved somehow, but I don’t think too many of the courts, at least, have details. Just that Nilfgaard wants her and maybe there’s a Witcher involved. I made sure not to include too much information that they didn’t already have, but I can’t say for sure what every Northern king knows, or what the Brotherhood knows.” He glances at Yen, who shakes her head and shrugs.

“Anyway, so that’s the meat of it. The concern is that since I became an actual useful asset for them, they’ve been keeping a much closer eye on me. That’s why I was worried about the wards.”

“Alright, I can understand all of that,” Geralt cuts in. “I don’t like that you kept it from me, but I can’t fault your choices. You’re right that we can’t have them sniffing around you, not with Ciri in your orbit.” He frowns. “Would it be possible for you just…fall off the map? Disappear? Redania can’t demand anything from a missing viscount.”

Jaskier winces a little. “I would love to do that, the problem being that Dijkstra works closely with Tretogor’s court mage, who has the charming little talent of transforming into a bird whenever she wants.”

Yen’s eyebrows both go up this time. “Phillipa? She’s quite impressive. A little too entrenched in political intrigue for my taste, but I can’t deny she’s talented. Tissaia speaks very highly of her, certainly.”

She looks thoughtful as she gazes at him over the fire. “You’re worried she’s following you, then? For information on Geralt, since everyone knows Jaskier the Bard is the man to talk to if you want to know about Witchers.”

Her tone is…teasing? Is she teasing him? First hugging, and now teasing? Yeah, he’s not dealing with that right now. He sticks out his tongue at her (he does still have a bantering streak to uphold, after all) before nodding.

“I don’t know for sure  if she was in Oxenfurt when Geralt broke me out. I don’t think so, but I certainly wasn’t combing every tree for owls, and there’s no chance of me noticing her out here in the woods. I’m just hoping that if she were around now, you’d sense her, Yen, and that she wasn’t able to bring back anything about Ciri or Geralt or Kaer Morhen to Dijkstra. Or you, either, since the Brotherhood are so unhappy with you.”

Yen looks surprised and very slightly pleased to be included in Jaskier’s concern. Or at least Jaskier thinks that’s the expression he can parse under her normal very scary murder face, which he finds is almost a relief to see. The soft regret and concern of recent weeks has been…unsettling. The sun rises, the rain falls, Yennefer of Vengerberg is gorgeous, aloof, and terrifying. This is the natural order.

Geralt is wearing a pensive expression, frowning slightly at where Ciri lies, sleeping peacefully. Dear girl, Jaskier hopes she isn’t having any nightmares. She’s been through hell lately, and she’s always had trouble sleeping anyway. Jaskier wonders if he can find the name of that tea Mousesack used to give her to help her sleep. Jaskier even tried it once or twice, when winter nights in Cintra without his Witcher’s soft, even breaths became too much; the stuff worked wonders.

“Alright,” he says eventually, nodding. “I’ll see if I can go to Redania myself, and leave you two with Ciri until I can get back. We’ll keep our campsites warded if we can, Yen, I don’t want you to wear yourself out, but some protection would probably be best. Are you able to see if you can sense anyone from here, or do you need to go outside the wards?”

“I’ll do a lap around the area, but there’s a chance anyone who is out there will sense me as soon as I start casting about. It would be best if you all stayed here, to protect Ciri in case someone actually has come for her.”

“I don’t like any of us going out alone, Yen, especially with the express intention of seeking out danger. I should go with you.” Geralt makes to stand and grab his swords from beside his seat, but Yennefer waves him back down.

“You’d only distract me, and besides, do you want to leave the totally untrained sorceress and the normal human alone here?” Jaskier makes an affronted squawking noise.

“Hey! I’m plenty competent, thank you!” He prudently ignores the minor inaccuracy of his humanity, and instead huffs at the matching incredulous looks he receives. “Rude. Honestly, I get no respect around here. I survived just fine on my own for years, you know! Besides, I traveled with a reckless idiot Witcher for 20 years, you pick up more than you’d think.” He glares at them both until Yen smirks and Geralt looks baffled and vaguely offended, but at least they both look away, which is an improvement.

Until the two of them end up in a stare off, clearly having some sort of emphatic conversation with their eyes alone, and Jaskier has to turn away to start putting away the cooking supplies they won’t need for breakfast tomorrow. He’s warming up to Yennefer, much to his chagrin, but he’s had quite enough of watching the man he loves eyefuck someone else, for this lifetime and the next, thanks ever so.

He hears Geralt huff, a sound he recognizes as him realizing whoever he’s arguing with is just going to do as they please anyway, and he might as well make the best of it.

He made that sound at Jaskier a lot. Usually when he talked his way into coming along on hunts, but really any time Jaskier wanted something from him beyond some seared rabbit, a fire to sleep beside, and monosyllabic grunts in response to questions (if he was lucky)- a night at an inn, a stop at a local festival, an actual hot bath with herbs and flowers and scented oils. Arms to hold him on especially cold nights, when blankets weren’t enough to warm (mostly) human skin.

Jaskier used to think it was cute. A game, just for the two of them, Jaskier pushing, Geralt pulling, or the other way around, always meeting in the middle (or, more often, closer to Jaskier’s side) with what Jaskier had always assumed was mutual amusement and affection. He knows better now.

There’s the telltale swish of Yennefer’s skirts, a strange popping sensation in his ears, and then the feeling of the wards coming back up behind her.

The silencing spell around Ciri is still up, as far as he knows, and she’s dead to the world besides, so it’s just him and Geralt now.

It isn’t the first time they’ve been alone since Oxenfurt, but it is the first time since Jaskier was invited (by Ciri, it should be noted, not Geralt) to travel with them as a companion, not as backup.

That one still stings, if he’s honest. He held out hope for months that Geralt would come back for him, would seek him out with a stuttered apology (or more likely a silently offered ale and an invitation to come with him to his next hunt).  Maybe at a tavern, or the Seat of Friendship, or even a ball or musical competition where Jaskier was playing. He knows how much Geralt hates getting dressed up, how much it would have meant for him to go to that effort just to see Jaskier.

He imagined seeing him sitting silently in the back of one of his lectures one day, watching the lesson with quiet affection and waiting for him to be finished so they could talk. Imagined hearing the sound of Roach’s hooves coming up behind him on some backroad to nowhere while he strummed his lute in the sunshine.

He imagined a thousand different reunions, a thousand apologies, a thousand ways for them to turn back the clock. (During some of the longer nights, when he was alone in his rooms staring out at the moon through the window, wondering if Geralt was lying on his bedroll in a forest clearing somewhere staring up at the same moon, he imagined a thousand different love confessions. But he has no intention of admitting that to anyone but his own foolish heart. He may be a bard, and a hopeless romantic, but there’s no need to bare all of his weeping wounds, especially when there’s no hope of healing them.)

For all his daydreaming, he never imagined that Geralt would seek him out only when he needed an extra set of hands and all his other options were exhausted. Never imagined he would be not just a tool to be used, but the last resort as well.

He shouldn’t be surprised, after everything, but the knowledge that he was never really anything else to Geralt still aches like a broken rib, flashes of pain shooting through his chest with every inhale.

This is the first time they’ve been alone together without an immediate crisis, without a clearly defined mission beyond the open road, just like it used to be.

Except nothing like it used to be, because how it used to be is gone. It will never be that way again. Geralt burned those memories down, with words as sharp as swords and as destructive as dragon fire.

Jaskier has no fucking idea how to deal with this.

“Jas-“ Geralt cuts off and clears his throat. Jaskier can hear him gulping from his waterskin before trying again. “Jaskier.”

“Yes?” He tries to keep his voice light, but he doesn’t turn around.

“Jaskier, can we. Can we talk? Please?”

It’s the ‘please’ that does it. Geralt so rarely says please. Jaskier may need more than his fingers to count the times he’s heard it directed at him, but he can still remember each one in perfect clarity. Besides, they had more than 20 years together, “more than 10” is still not exactly a stellar ratio.

Jaskier’s resolve breaks (did he ever really have any? Has he ever had any when it comes to this man?) and he turns, schooling his face into something meant to look bright and open. He’s not sure how well it works. “Of course, Geralt. What’s on your mind?”

“I-“ Geralt looks…lost. He looks like he has absolutely no idea how to get where he’s going, and it’s killing him. Jaskier crumbles.

“You’ve already apologized, Geralt, if that’s what you’re worried about. I’ve forgiven you. You were angry, you needed a target, I was there. It’s behind us.” He looks at the fire, for lack of anything else that isn’t Geralt’s stupid awful gorgeous face, wishing desperately he had his lute. He never felt awkward with his lute. Never rubbed anxious circles around his calluses for lack of anything to do with his hands. Never sat in a silence so painful he wondered if his ears would bleed.

Geralt lets out a breath like he’s trying to remember how. “That’s not. I mean it is. But. I. Fuck.” Jaskier looks up from the fire to see him scrubbing a hand through his hair in an uncharacteristic display of emotion. The adorable fool manages to get his hand tangled in the locks when he forgets about the band holding half of it back from his face.

“Oh for Melitele’s sake- stop moving, you lug, I’ll fix it. You’re going to tear it out in chunks if you keep pulling like that, just hold still, or I’ll have to rewrite all the songs to be about The Bald Wolf instead. Ye gods, Geralt, how did you survive without me? Honestly.” He’s across the cave and kneeling behind Geralt on the other side of the fire before he consciously registers the decision to move. Fucking hells, even his own body is against him.

He has his hands in Geralt’s (soft, silky, gorgeous) hair, untangling it gently from where it’s wound itself tightly around his (scarred, strong, beautiful) fingers. He thinks he hears Geralt’s breath catch, but he’s too distracted trying to keep his own lungs working at all to focus on it.

Once Geralt’s hand is free (and does Geralt seem as reluctant to let go and put his hand back in his lap as Jaskier is to let him?) Jaskier sets to work on the much more finicky task of removing the band without pulling half of Geralt’s hair out with it, which would honestly be a crime against…well, anyone with eyes really. Jaskier may be in love with him, but he’s also seen a truly exorbitant number of beautiful people across the continent, many of them naked, so he thinks he’s fairly qualified when he says that Geralt is one of the most singularly stunning people on the face of the earth, bias or not. Especially now that he seems to be taking better care of his hair than he used to when Jaskier wasn’t around.

Jaskier is actually rather shocked at how well-kept Geralt is. His hair is smooth and soft and clean, and smells like…is that apple blossom? That’s one of Jaskier’s favorite scents. It never fails to make him feel light and warm, like spring sunshine. He uses it in his own hair more often than the other oils he carries.

Back when washing Geralt’s hair for him was an occasional but deeply treasured privilege of his, Jaskier used to use it for him, as well. That Geralt has somehow, for some reason, gotten some of his own to use during their separation…it makes something warm and fragile stir in Jaskier’s chest. Warm and fragile and dangerous. Hope is easily crushed, and when it is, it takes everything else down with it. Jaskier isn’t doing that again. Not so soon.

He finishes detaching the tie as efficiently as he can, and hands it over Geralt’s shoulder before sitting back on his heels and exhaling violently.

“There you are darling, all fixed. Now,-“

“I didn’t.” Geralt interrupts him, whisper quiet but still somehow deafening over the crackling fire.

“What?”

“Survive without you. I didn’t. Or, I guess I should say I did, but that’s all I did.”

Jaskier has, for once, absolutely no idea what to say, so he tries something new, and says nothing. He’s barely even sure he’s breathing, staring at the back of Geralt’s head and all his moonlit hair like he’s staring into the jaws of a barghest as he waits to see if he will continue.

He does, words falling out of him in a rush like a river pouring through a broken dam, desperate in a way Jaskier has never heard him before.

“I knew I’d fucked up, on the mountain. As soon as the words were out of my mouth I knew it. It’s like. It’s like I was a bottle of juice, gone off, going ranker and ranker until the cork flies right out and takes someone’s eye out. I thought I was angry at Borch, at Yen, at Calanthe, at fucking Destiny, at everything. Even you, who hadn’t done one thing wrong. But really it was just me. I was just angry at myself, and there’s. There’s not. There isn’t anywhere for that kind of anger to go. It just builds up and up and up until it explodes, and you with it, and I knew I was going to let it out at someone. And then you were there, and you were trying to help. Like always. You always help. You make everything better, like you were just trying to make me feel better. But I was so angry, and it was all my fault, it was all my stupid selfish choices, the djinn, the wish, Ciri, all of it my fault, and I didn’t deserve to feel better. I didn’t deserve it and I had to make you stop and so. I did. I did it on purpose. I did it because I knew that was the thing to say that would hurt you the most. That would make me a monster like I know I am. Monsters are easy. Easier than mistakes and bad choices. So I made another bad choice and hurt someone else and decided to be a monster.”

There might be tears streaming down Jaskier’s face, but he can’t tell because he can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t hear anything but the rushing in his ears and Geralt’s voice ripping into him with savage, gentle claws.

“Once Yen was gone- It’s hard to think with her around, sometimes. It’s the wish, I think. Everything else gets duller, quieter, a little out of focus. Like in a dream when the only thing you can see clearly is the person you know the dream is about, the person you’re supposed to talk to.” Oh this…this is actually torture. Geralt might actually be killing him because he still can’t fucking breathe and he just keeps talking.

“It’s better now. Maybe it’s Ciri, my Destiny is split between them now so it’s not so overwhelming. Or maybe Ciri is her Destiny too, and now that we’ll always have her, the both of us, the wish doesn’t need to force us to be in love for us to stay nearby. I don’t know. It’s easier now, though. And even easier when you’re here.”

Wait, what? Now Jaskier knows he’s dead, or dying, or hallucinating, or something, because there’s no way that means what he wants it to mean.

“After Yen left, my head started to clear. Things came back into focus. I realized what I’d done, but suddenly I could also see that it wasn’t just what I yelled at you. It was so much more, so much deeper. I had been so awful to you, for so long, and you just. Took it. All of it. Everything I had, all my anger and my fear and my loneliness. You just let me. You always came back. You kept choosing me, even when I was cruel. I was ashamed, but I also thought…” He breaks off with a great shuddering breath, his head hanging.

Jaskier feels a little like he’s floating. Like he can see his body, kneeling there in the dirt behind Geralt, staring at his sculpted shoulderblades with a blind, devastated look on his tear-streaked face. How odd.

Geralt, somehow, impossibly, keeps going. This is more words than Jaskier has heard him say in the last two decades. This is more words than he knew Geralt was capable of saying. Where are all these words coming from?

It’s like all this time, he had been saving these. Stockpiling them, though for what Jaskier can’t begin to guess. A rainy day? An emergency? This? And now the doors of the granary have come loose and the winter stores are flooding the yard and Jaskier thinks he might end up buried alive.

“I thought you’d come back.” Geralt’s voice is thicker, somehow, and oh, gods, is he crying? “I thought you would come back, like before, like always, and it would be ok. And I would try to be better. I would try to be the man you thought I was. And it would be ok. But you-“ He cuts off with another great shuddering breath, and seems to center himself. “You didn’t come back. And that’s when I realized I had finally gone too far.”

Jaskier has been trying to process all of these many, many, many, mostly incomprehensible words, and he’s maybe fallen a little bit behind, because he hears himself cut in with an incredulous “Wait, are you saying that every time you were rude or dismissive to me, it wasn’t just because you don’t know how to conduct yourself in a normal friendship because you’ve never had one, but actually because you knew you were being cruel and you knew you could get away with it because I would always come back?”

Geralt’s head hangs even lower, and Jaskier has to strain to hear his gravelly whispered reply.

“Yes. Maybe not consciously, or in so many words, but yes.”

Jaskier flounders for a moment, wounds he spent the last year trying to close tearing back open even wider than before.

“All this time? You thought so little of me, all this time? I was just a- a- a practice dummy? Something that won’t fight back or feel pain, so you can hit it has hard or as many times as you want?” His voice began at a whisper, to match Geralt’s, but has gotten steadily louder and more tear-filled the more he speaks.

“No, that isn’t-“

“I can’t- I’m not- I need a moment. Please, Geralt I need- Please.” He can’t keep sitting this close to him, feeling his body heat just as warm as the fire he’s blocking Jaskier from, can’t keep listening to his low rumbling voice, like thunder and gravel and home, like a silver sword through the midsection. Not when the pain and the anger and the hope are all bleeding together and he doesn’t know how to feel them properly and he still can’t fucking breathe.

Geralt’s breath hitches, a tiny little wisp of sound, and Jaskier is going to fucking lose it.

“Please, Geralt.” It comes out in a broken whisper, which is more revealing than Jaskier was hoping, but it’s not like he’s managed to hide anything anyway, so it hardly matters.

Geralt nods, back still to Jaskier in front of the fire, and stands smoothly to walk over to a corner near the entrance, where he can see all four bedrolls and the cave mouth clearly. Ready to protect. Always ready to defend. He sinks to his knees and his breathing takes on the familiar cadence of meditation.

Jaskier takes a moment to look at him. At the way his hands are clutched a little tighter on his thighs than they normally would be while he mediates, like he hasn’t managed to purge all the fear from his body the way he has his mind. At the new scars he can see on his forearms and one snaking over his collarbone, scars that Jaskier wasn’t there to bandage and fuss over. At the way his hair spills over his shoulders, still tousled from Jaskier’s fingers. At the single tear track carving a path down one marble cheek.

Jaskier sucks in a breath and turns away before he breaks down and Yen comes back to find him catatonic on the ground.

He ends up standing at the mouth of the cave, stroking New Roach’s neck and petting his hands through her glossy mane gently. Her slow breathing and the familiar warm, earthy smell of horse help ground him, bring him back from that awful frantic-floating feeling, where he was nowhere and trapped all at once.

He chatters to her quietly, just like he did to her predecessor. She, at least, warms up to him much more quickly.

A warm, black nose thumps gently into his chest. “Yes, my love, I know I need to protect my heart. I’m trying! Can’t you see how hard I’m trying?” She nickers softly, more of a puff of breath than a proper sound.

“Well aren’t we feeling smug this evening, sweet thing.” Another thump. “It’s alright darling, I don’t blame you. I think I’m ridiculous, too. I just don’t know how to fix it.” He strokes a hand down her forehead, scritching lightly.

“No, me either. You know what the problem is, don’t you?” She lips at his hair, which he takes as an invitation to continue.

His voice is even quieter now, the barest thread of a whisper, quiet enough that even Geralt might not overhear if he comes out of meditation. “The problem is that I’ve spent all this time coming up with plans and strategies and contingencies for not giving my heart away again, when the truth is I don’t think I ever got it back in the first place.”

He rests his forehead against hers in defeat, tears falling silently again. He’s going to dehydrate at this point, but what does he care when he has a beautiful lady providing him such warm, solid comfort right here?

“I have to say, songbird, this is not what I expected to find when I came back tonight.”

Jaskier does not flail. He is a professional performer, he has immaculate control over his body at all times. And he definitely doesn’t squeak, no bard would ever be caught dead making such an undignified noise unintentionally.

So no, he neither flails nor squeaks, and if New Roach gets very slightly spooked and a lot disgruntled, it was from Yennefer sneaking up out of bloody nowhere like a wraith in the night, and certainly nothing Jaskier did. If either of them say different, they’re lying.

“Are you trying to give me a heart attack? Is this your plan to kill me and make it look like an accident? I’ll tell Ciri, she’ll come after you with her dagger, see if she doesn’t. Ciri likes me. Ciri would avenge me.” He’s  clutching his chest, heartbeat gradually beginning to slow.

New Roach is still giving him a dubious look. That’s rude, this is hardly his fault. It’s Yen she should be grumpy with.

“Well, I was rather hoping that by this point in the evening, you wouldn’t need a miniature Witcherling-sorceress to defend you, since you’d have your big strong Witcher back, but somehow things seem to have gotten worse in my absence. Did he not manage to tell you his real feelings? Bloody Witchers, trust him to be resistant to my recipe, it’s never bloody failed before, if he’s made this worse somehow I’m going to bloody dissect him to figure out where I went wrong-“ She continues muttering darkly while Jaskier stares at her in shock.

His mind is valiantly trying to shake off enough of the lingering fog of tears to pull some of those threads together and figure out what the fuck she’s talking about.

Recipe? Real feelings? Make what worse? Did she…did she dose him with something? Did she put a fucking spell on his Witcher? He might have to have Ciri stab her after all, since he has no illusions about his own abilities to take her in a fight.

“What the fuck are you talking about, witch? What did you give him? What the fuck did you do? I’ll kill you myself you vicious little shrew, see if I don’t!”

She waves a hand dismissively, scoffing at his threats. Admittedly he is not at his best, though in his defense it’s hard to adopt a proper fighting stance when you’ve just spent half an hour kneeling in the dirt while your still-beating heart was slowly diced into bite-sized pieces. Tough on the knees, you know.

“Please, you should be thanking me. It was fucking exhausting, these last few weeks, watching you two throw longing glances back and forth when you think no one’s looking. I’m just trying to help things along.”

“Help- what? What things? Help things along how?” He’s trying very hard to hold onto his righteous anger at her for (possibly?) drugging the man he loves, but she keeps saying things that dredge up that dangerous warm feeling from before, and he’s losing his resolve.

“Nothing sinister, songbird. I’m done with that, I’m on the side of the White Knights now, remember? Have a little faith in me, for Lilit’s sake.” She rolls her eyes, but either he’s getting better at reading her or she’s making an effort to be easier to read, because he can feel the sincerity in her words. “We both know all that nonsense about Witchers not feeling is horseshit, yes?” He nods. Obviously it is, Geralt feels more deeply than anyone he’s ever met. “But I know you also understand how much he struggles to make sense of what he’s feeling, or to make himself heard when he does.”

She’s right about that, too. Jaskier knows the emotions are there, has always known, since the moment he saw Geralt in that tavern in Posada. But he’s watched Geralt get lost in the tangle of feelings inside him so thoroughly that all the words get stuck and nothing comes out. He’s seen it happen hundreds of times. That’s part of why he’s always wanted to badly to sing about him, to tell the world what Geralt can’t, to be the words when he can’t find them.

Yen gestures to the corner where Geralt is still meditating peacefully. “I didn’t do anything to his feelings. Couldn’t if I tried, that’s not really how my magic works, anyway. But I knew there are things he’s been wanting to say, and he’s been suffering for not knowing how. And as antagonistic as we may be, I don’t actually hate you nearly so much these days, and I find myself discomfited by your very obvious pining, as well.” Well, that’s…actually quite sweet. And rather disquieting, if he’s honest.

“So I gave him something to help him articulate himself. It won’t make him say anything he doesn’t want to, won’t force him to reveal any truths against his will or create any feelings that weren’t already there. It just…smooths the way. Untangles all those knots in his head so something coherent can make it out of his mouth. But you two aren’t cuddled up by the fire making me want to vomit, which means it didn’t fucking work, and I have to figure out why!” She looks rather like she would huff and stomp her foot at this, if the great and powerful Yennefer of Vengerberg would ever stoop to something so childish.

Jaskier thinks very hard about the last hour or so of his life. He thinks about Geralt saying “please,” and he thinks about the way all those words fell out of him and just kept coming and coming and coming, like a pot boiling over, piling up in a heap at Jaskier’s feet. He thinks about Geralt crying.

“Well- uh. Hmm. You know, it occurs to me now- it’s funny really, I think you’ll laugh, definitely laugh, not look at me with that petrifying glare you’ve got on right now, no you’ll be laughing I’m quite sure- Alright, yes, ok! Yes! Right, well, um. I think, looking at recent events, fresh eyes and all that you know- I’m just saying, it would have been helpful to have some of this information going in, is all- Ow! Melitele’s tits, that hurt! Do those nails come standard at Aretuza, or were you just born lucky? Ouch! Ok, ok, stop pinching me, witch! Like I was saying, with the benefit of this new information, I think it’s possible your magical intervention whosit thingy may have worked exactly as expected?”

She narrows her eyes. “If it worked, why are you crying to a horse instead of snuggling with your man?” His man. That can’t be right. Can it? Geralt isn’t his. Except. Except for all the things he sounded like he might be gearing up to say when Jaskier cut him off. Fuck.

“I, uh. I maybe. I maybe stopped him partway through and told him I needed a break?” He winces back as her already truly impressive glare intensifies even further- yep, she’s still got it.

“I did not go to all the effort of brewing that fucking potion, tailoring it for Witcher metabolisms, and making it fucking tasteless and odorless so he would drink it, not to mention standing out here in the fucking woods in the middle of the night with nothing to fucking do, just so you could chicken out halfway through getting everything you ever fucking wanted.” Her eyes are glowing violet now, which is. Wow. Scary. She’s so scary. He remembers now why he always thought she was so so scary. She jabs her finger towards the kneeling figure by the wall. “Get the fuck back in there and finish the damn conversation, bard,” she hisses. “I will not deal with this bullshit all the way to the Redanian border.”

She turns to leave again, and Jaskier shoots out a hand to stop her. She looks at his hand on her elbow and he briefly worries he’s going to end the night as a slug of some kind, but she just looks up at him questioningly.

“I just. Fuck. I know- I know this probably wasn’t easy for you. You know I know better than most what you’re feeling right now. But you’re helping anyway, so. Thank you, Yennefer. Even if it doesn’t go like you think, like I hope, you were willing to try even though it hurts, so thank you.” He isn’t sure what his face is doing, but he hopes she can see how genuinely grateful he is.

She smiles a little sadly. “Come on, songbird, We both know he was never really mine. And besides, I’m not the settling down type. Now go, don’t make me curse you.” She shoots him what would be a very passable glare if it weren’t for the slight glimmer of tears in her eyes, then spins on her heel and stalks off into the night.

He turns back to the cave, hesitating for a single moment before there’s an irritated huff, a nip to the sleeve of his jacket, and a frankly unnecessarily forceful shove to his back. He glares back at Roach, who seems unperturbed. “I’ve got entirely too many black-haired gorgeous women trying to run my life right now, do you hear me? Too many!” Roach huffs again. “Fine. I’m going, are you happy?” He takes another step and looks over his shoulder. She looks smug. Of course she does. “I think you’re just the old Roach reincarnated. Never seen another horse look so damn satisfied with herself,” he mutters, but he’s already heading back into the cave, so he figures she’s won this round.

He feels slightly guilty about grabbing Geralt’s waterskin before going to him, but he isn’t sure how long Yen’s potion lasts, or if meditating will have burned more of it off. Maybe it’s disingenuous to give him more without telling him what’s in it, but, weirdly, he trusts Yen when she says it won’t force Geralt to do or say anything he doesn’t want to, and Jaskier isn’t sure he’ll ever get to hear the words otherwise. He’ll tell him afterwards. He won’t keep this secret forever.

He sits down quietly next to Geralt, leaning up against the wall of the cave. He takes one deep breath, then another, and another. He rests his fingers gently on Geralt’s hand where it sits on his thigh. Geralt’s breathing gradually picks up until he’s back to almost his normal, slow rhythm. His eyes open, landing on Jaskier’s hand on his and following the line of his arm back up to his face.

Jaskier hands him the waterskin, and Geralt takes it with a nod of gratitude before taking a long drink. “I’m alright now,” Jaskier says. “I’m sorry I stopped you.

Geralt searches his face, eyes searching Jaskier’s for signs of dishonesty. Apparently finding none, he nods slightly, golden eyes closing again for a moment. When they open, he’s not looking at Jaskier any longer.

Jaskier looks at his hand, fingertips still resting ever so lightly on Geralt’s palm, and considers taking it back. He thinks about what Geralt has told him so far tonight, about the conviction in Yen’s voice when she insisted Geralt had feelings for him. Fuck it, he decides, and lays his hand more firmly in Geralt’s, lacing their fingers together. Geralt draws in a sharp breath and looks up at him in shock, but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he grips Jaskier’s hand tighter, like he’s worried Jaskier is going to try to run.

“I know you,” Jaskier says slowly. “I’ve known you for more than half my life, and I know that you aren’t cruel, or callous, or unkind. I know that there is always a reason behind the things you say, and the things you do, even if no one else can see it.” He swallows hard, closing his eyes briefly. Geralt squeezes his hand lightly, which…helps, actually. It helps a lot. “I’m sorry I accused you of hurting me on purpose, for the sake of causing me pain. I was overwhelmed and having trouble processing things, but I shouldn’t have jumped to a conclusion I know wasn’t true. If you still want to talk, I’m ready to listen now.”

“It wasn’t an illogical conclusion to draw. And it wasn’t even completely wrong.” His voice is calmer than before, measured and even. Not as frantic. The river is still flowing free, but it’s calmed, no longer the violent rush of a broken dam. He sighs, a great, world-weary thing. “It was because you’re safe.” Jaskier looks at him quizzically.

Geralt draws in another deep breath before continuing. “I can’t ever show emotion. Not to humans. Not anger, or fear, or sometimes even joy. The myths about Witchers not having feelings…they aren’t just vicious rumors made up by bigots. They’re there to protect us. From them.”

Jaskier frowns. “You mean Witchers put that rumor out yourselves? But why?” Surely demonstrating how human Witchers really are can only help matters, right?

“In a way.” Geralt tilts his head in the way Jaskier knows means he’s remembering something long past. “It’s part of how we’re trained. We’re taught to suppress emotion, to hide it from everyone, including ourselves. It’s how we’ve done things for 400 years.” His thumb sweeps little arcs across the back of Jaskier’s hand, and Jaskier’s heart trips in his chest. He knows Geralt can probably hear it, but it must not worry him and he keeps talking.

“The first Witchers were experiments. Men twisted by mages hoping to combat the monsters that plagued the world. The process has been…refined, since then. At first, they really were- well. More monster than man.” Geralt tips his head back against the rock wall. “Humans were terrified of them. One and all, right down to their bones. The first Witchers didn’t take contracts, because no humans would even speak with them. They just wandered around until they found a monster to kill, and then moved on to the next. Eventually, people started to realize that Witchers were only killing monsters, and leaving humans be, so they slowly started reaching out for help.”

“Ungrateful sods, the lot of them,” Jaskier mutters, and hears Geralt’s quiet huff of laughter in response.

“You’re. You’re so special, do you know that?” Jaskier jerks his head up in surprise to see Geralt’s eyes on his face, liquid gold lit like sunrise by the light of the fire, a tiny smile playing around his lips. “You’ve never been afraid of me. Not once. Not even when the only things you knew about me were that I scowled a lot and I had two very scary swords.” Jaskier flushes at the reminder of the babble that spilled out of his mouth the moment he laid eyes on the single most attractive person he had ever seen in his 18 years of life.

He drops his eyes, knowing there’s no hiding the blush on his cheeks but ignoring it as hard as he can anyway. “What’s there to be scared of? You’re a puppy, not a wolf.” He expects a grumble, or a glare, or for Geralt to ignore him completely. Certainly not the bark of laughter that would have woken Ciri were it not for Yen’s charm. He stares at Geralt’s face, firelight flickering over pale skin, honest joy written in the curve of his mouth, and grins back helplessly.

“You’re the only one who’s ever thought that. Except maybe Eskel.” He laughs again, more quietly this time, then sobers slightly. “Humans are afraid of us. They always have been. Less now, since you,” he squeezes Jaskier’s hand again and Jaskier flushes even darker, “but the first Witchers were barely more than feral, and that impression…stuck. Humanity never got past it. Even when new generations of Witchers were made, when we became something closer to men than to monsters, their fear never went away. Any emotion, even the faintest irritation, was enough to make most humans think a Witcher was about to go berserk, to start tearing out the throats of anyone who got too close. So, we learned to shut them down.”

His eyes are downcast now, and Jaskier thinks of a tiny Geralt, just a boy, younger than Ciri, excited about the world, curious and clever and mischievous, thinks about him learning to hide his heart away until even he couldn’t find it anymore, and he wants to scream. He wants to cry, he wants to rage, he wants to find every human who ever judged a Witcher by his eyes and not his deeds and mount their heads on spikes. He wants to tear out their hearts and make them watch as he throws them on the pyre, burning them out like so many boys were made to burn out their own.

Geralt can smell his turmoil, he knows, and he clings to the comfort offered when he holds Jaskier’s hand as tightly as he can without hurting him, still tracing circles into his skin with his thumb.

“It isn’t safe, to have feelings. Humans may spit on a mutant with a heart of stone, but they’ll hunt and kill a monster with teeth they think will harm them. It’s safer to be cold, to be hard. To let all of it roll off of us like snow off a mountain. And after a while, you forget how to be anything else. You forget that it’s a lie, that it’s something you had to learn. You start to believe it too.” There are tears dripping off of Jaskier’s nose now, but he doesn’t dare interrupt again. “I had forgotten, until you.”

He looks at Jaskier with such naked feeling in his fiery eyes that Jaskier can’t fathom how anyone could believe this man has no heart. “You made me feel. You walked into my life and just-“ He huffs another low laugh, the faraway look on his face impossibly fond. “You just didn’t listen to a fucking thing I said. Ever! Not once! And it drove me up the godsdamned wall. I was going out of my mind, I was so fucking annoyed. You never stopped talking, or singing, or playing that damn lute, you never stayed out of the way on hunts like I told you to, you ignored me whenever I said I didn’t have feelings or I didn’t need anyone or we weren’t friends. And you wouldn’t leave! You just kept coming back, no matter how much of an arse I was, even when I acted in ways that would have made other humans shit themselves, or come after me with torches and pitchforks, or both. You just kept coming back, and you kept not believing me when I told you I was a monster, and you never smelled fucking afraid, and after a while I realized that irritated wasn’t the only thing you made me feel anymore.”

He seems to withdraw into himself a little, his shoulders hunching and his head hanging slightly. He tries to withdraw his hand, but Jaskier isn’t sure he can get through this conversation without it, so he hopes Geralt will forgive him for pushing yet more boundaries and simply holds onto him tighter.

Geralt sighs again, but stops pulling away. “But there’s still so much shit in the world. There are so many humans who hate me, or fear me, or try to cheat me, or who end up being monsters worse than the ones they want me to kill, and the problem with having it smacked over my head that I do actually have feelings, is that it makes it so much harder to ignore them. And there’s so much anger in me, Jaskier, and grief, and loneliness. And I can’t ever show it to anyone, or it will confirm everything they think they know about me. It will make me a monster. It will make me the Butcher all over again.” He looks up again, his expression anguished. “You’re the only one who’s safe. You’re the only one I can be angry around, or sad, or scared, or just annoyed, without thinking the worst of me. You’re the only one who ever comes back.”

Jaskier is back to feeling like his heart is being fed through a sieve, but he thinks he understands what Geralt is trying to say this time. He feels a renewed rush of guilt for assuming the worst of him before. Is he any better than the rest, jumping to the foulest possible conclusion while Geralt wrestles with his tongue to try and make him understand? He turns his head away, closing his eyes against the tears and trying to breathe through the shame.

Fingers grip his chin gently and coax his head back until he’s looking into Geralt’s slitted eyes again. The look on his face is so soft, so open, that Jaskier feels like his ribs are being pried apart at the sight of it. “You have no idea how much of a blessing you have actually been in my life, Jaskier,” and those words just crack his chest wide open and bare his heart to the whole room, don’t they? “I took advantage of you. I wanted so badly to have someone in my life I could show all the darkest parts of myself to, without them running away, that I forgot to show you the rest. And I forgot to help carry your darkness in return. I left you with such a burden, Jaskier, and you never once complained or asked me to help. You have done nothing but give, for as long as I’ve known you, and I wish I could show you how sorry I am that I was content for so long just to take.” Jaskier is pretty sure he’s openly sobbing now, but Geralt is sliding his hand up from his chin to cup his cheek, sweeping the tears away with his thumb, so it’s probably ok.

“Let me make it up to you, Jaskier. Let me be the one to give to you for once. Let me carry your burdens for a while. Let me give you a reason to forgive me. A reason to come back.” His eyes are pools of molten gold, wide and dark and shining with- emotion. An emotion. Jaskier isn’t going to hazard a guess at which emotion, because he isn’t sure he can handle the answer.

“I’ve already forgiven you, you great lummox. For all of it. A safe place is all I ever wanted to be for you. I only ever wanted to give you a home. Like you gave me. Just- just share it with me next time, please? The anger, or the fear? Share it with me first, instead of letting it fester and burn us both. That’s all I need from you.”

Geralt’s hand on his cheek guides him forward until their faces are inches from each other, foreheads resting together. Jaskier’s eyes want to close but he can’t bear to look away, too afraid this is all an impossible dream that will disappear as soon as he opens them again. He can see the way the firelight glimmers off his silver hair, the scars through his eyebrow, the tears clinging to his eyelashes as they sweep gently over his cheeks. He’s never seen anything so beautiful in his life.

“I don’t know if I’ve ever deserved you, but I would do anything for the chance to try to be someone who does. I’m yours, Jaskier. You need only say you’ll have me.”

Jaskier is a man of words. He’s a bard, words are his trade, his weapons, the blood in his veins. No matter what else is happening around him, no matter what he has or what he’s lost or what needs to be done, there are always words ready to spring forth from him like water from a spigot. He has never, in all his life, been out of words.

Until now.

Fuck it.

Geralt’s lips are softer than he imagined, given that his skincare routine seems to consist primarily of monster innards. But they’re soft and they’re warm and they move so gently against Jaskier’s that he thinks he might simply melt into a puddle, to be absorbed into the earth and never seen again. The kiss is tender, and sweet, and longing, and not at all how he imagined his first kiss with Geralt would be. It’s perfect. Jaskier breaks it with a watery laugh, keeping his forehead pressed to Geralt’s.

Somehow his free hand has found its way back into Geralt’s silky hair, and he threads his fingers deeper into the moonlit locks and hopes he’ll never have to let go.

“You’re mine?” He knows he sounds a little pleading, disbelief coloring his tone, but he can’t help it. He’s had this dream so many times, he needs to be sure it’s real this time. “Really?”

“Really, little lark.” Geralt is smiling just as wide as Jaskier is, his cheeks just as damp. “I’ve always been yours, I was just too stupid to admit it. I won’t make that mistake again. I love you. I’ll never leave you behind again, not for the rest of your life, if you’ll let me.”

And, oh, there’s a conversation they should maybe have, because after all the revelations of tonight, Jaskier is fairly sure Geralt thinks he’s completely human, and is probably in pain over his supposed mortality. At some point before they go to sleep Jaskier will mention it, because apparently Geralt hasn’t noticed that his face hasn’t changed a lick in 25 years, the stubble he wears these days notwithstanding.

Because Geralt is a ridiculous, incredible, oblivious, stupid, wonderful fool, and Jaskier loves him so much he can hardly breathe. So he tells him so. The rest can wait.

[epigstolary]

Just A Number

“You’re too young to be so fat” is something you’ve heard all your life. From your youth spent snacking in front of the tv, to your high school years indulging at restaurants or the mall, to your college years eating late-night pizza and junk in your dorm room, you’ve always been big enough to get that comment out of people. Parents, friends, boyfriends and girlfriends have all watched your advancing waistline with alarm, worrying about the fact that — no matter how big you had been when they last saw you — you were always bigger the next time.

And so they’d express their worry to you. These are the best years of your life, they’d say — you should be getting out and enjoying them, not sitting on the sidelines stuffing your face. Someone your age shouldn’t have trouble finding clothes that fit, or such a hard time making it up a flight of stairs that you have to stop halfway. You needed to try and watch the weight a little. Sometimes you wonder how things would have turned out if you had followed their advice.

But you didn’t. And so, you waddled across the stage at graduation and into a young adulthood that freed you from even the limited structure of university life. You landed some regular freelance work that paid the bills and let you work entirely from home. And you kept gorging yourself on whatever delicious food you wanted, whenever you wanted it. There was nobody to tell you what time meals were supposed to be, nobody to question your incessant snacking. While other people your age were going out with their friends, traveling to exotic places, partying, and living their lives, you were home by yourself most of the time. Craving. Consuming. Expanding.

With total freedom from a schedule and your last reason for even limited physical activity gone, the creeping tide of weight gain over the past few years turned into a flood. The snacking, meals, grocery deliveries, and takeout orders became constant. You would look like a completely different person to someone who had gone a couple months without seeing you, packing on fifty pounds or more from season to season. Eventually, your friends and family gave up on trying to save you from what was increasingly looking like an unstoppable force, propelling you faster and faster toward destroying yourself.

I suppose for normal people, there’s never an age where it’s expected someone will be too fat to leave the house. But it’s your mid-20s, and here you are. You spend eighteen hours a day on the couch, pinned beneath a flowing belly the size of a bean bag chair and two bulbous titties connecting to the massive rolls of fat under your arms. Laptop perched atop your wobbling stomach, you try to type with sausage fingers you’re even starting to have trouble bending, taking breaks every few minutes to rest your bloated arms.

As they fall to your sides, the fat on your biceps — bigger around than a healthy adult’s waist — puckers, flowing over the layers of rolls bulging from your abdomen. Your forearm fat shifts down toward your hands, making an impressive roll around your pudgy wrist. You try and shift a little to get more comfortable, wiggling your tremendous butt and shapeless legs around to try and resettle yourself. As you take up most of the couch now, there’s not much room to change positions. Instead, you stretch, wiggling the toes peeking out from the distended blobs of fat, now hundreds of pounds in their own right, that pass for your legs.

Shocking as those legs are, they can still support you during your labored, stumbling trips to the front door a couple times a day. Here, you collect the tens of thousands of calories you have to put away to keep you in this lard prison you’ve built for yourself. But you don’t think of it that way. You see it as a treat. After all, you just did a full-body workout lumbering to the door and back; why shouldn’t you reward yourself for keeping up with your fitness?

Except that nobody’s fooled by what’s going on here — not even you, on those rare occasions when the delusion lifts and you get a lucid look at your situation. There’s nothing normal about a twentysomething eating themself to the size of a California king mattress. There’s no excuse for being too heavy to waddle out your front door, ignoring whether you could even still squeeze your outrageous bulk through it. And all those admirers on the internet — talking about how sexy you look, how much they want to feed you, how they’d love to see you even bigger — are all really thinking the same thing.

They would push you to your limit if they had half a chance. Forget being able to waddle to the door; they want you so blown up with lard and full of food that you’re not rolling over without help. They want you a wheezing, blubbery mess with so many rolls, folds, blobs, and bulges covering your body that you’re almost unrecognizable as a person. They want to see you reaching pathetically across your expanse of fat, trying to get the feeding tube that’s slipped away from you, and looking at them pleadingly for help to restore the sickening flow of calories into your ruined body. They want you to end your twenties as a fat cow, insatiably feeding and alarmingly obese, eating yourself to death.

And they’d probably tease you by telling you about their day out of the house, and all the things that they got to do that a half-ton bariatric patient like you can never hope to do again. Fit in a car. Go shopping, mobility scooter or not. Literally just be outside without having countless amazed stares and snarky comments from all the people, shocked at seeing someone in their twenties who already weighs as much as five or six people. Shame those are off the table for you, they’d say; guess you better eat some more to make yourself feel better.

You’re not quite that big — not yet, at least. Your weight may be wildly out of control compared to most people your age, but even so it takes some time for those bad eating habits to reach critical mass. Give it a few years, though. Even if you manage to get a handle on your rapid expansion, there’s no chance you’re losing any weight. You’re too used to living this way to give it up. That number on the scale will keep creeping up, slowly but surely. You’ll be reminded of your inevitable fate by how your clothes feel like they’re slowly constricting, squeezing your belly and rolls tighter and tighter; how it feels like someone’s turning up gravity on you a little every day. But you can’t pin this on your clothes or the laws of physics. You only have yourself, and your gluttony, to blame.

You didn’t get this big, this fast, without wanting to on some level. And as long as that something is there, driving you, you won’t be stopping. So make peace with the fact that you have just a few more years, at most, before you’re too big to be anything but someone’s fantasy feedee. You may as well have another bite, another helping, another meal. Because age — and weight — is just a number, right?

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

Draw your swords, pt. 2

Summary: While marriage was the last thing he’d want, especially with his enemies’ daughter, the Darkling isn’t above playing dirty to get what he wants. But his wish for a wedding night turns sour once he realizes his bride is anything but a weak human.

Warnings: angst, swearing, sexual references

Part one   

===========================

Walking down a hall, Y/N felt her heart drop as they neared a room meant for them. Glancing over her shoulder, she realized Darkling’s faithful Grisha followed them every step of the way.

Stopping moments before she walked into her now husband, Y/N turned on her heel. With a smile believable to anyone with an outsider’s perspective, she folded her hands before her abdomen.

“Did you guys enjoy the wedding?” Her voice is light, cheerful even. It felt odd, enough for Kirigan’s eyes to narrow at Ivan and Fedyor who replied simultaneously.

“Yes.” “No.”

Chuckling, she raised her eyebrows, “Well, did you both attend the same wedding?”

Swallowing thickly, Fedyor decided to speak for Ivan who was still disgruntled nearly as much as Kirigan.

“The wedding was perfect and you were a vision.”

Humming, she nods, “I’m glad it wasn’t a waste of time for you as it was for me. Good evening.” Turning her back on their flabbergasted faces, Y/N lifted her chin before entering the room on her own.

She could hear Kirigan’s annoyed sigh as he dismissed his Grisha, but the sound of the doors closing truly rattled her insides. Looking to him, she held her breath to stop a shuddered one from escaping her.

"I understand it's not what you expected", he smiled frostily. "I had plans that didn't include you either. But I suppose we'll both have to make do."

She scoffed, narrowing her eyes, "Make do?"

It was their wedding night, doors shut with no witnesses and the marriage arranged for the two of them felt like a noose tied around her neck. She swallows thickly, hyper aware of the bed dominating the room behind her and her hands, wrapped in each other behind her back have begun to tremble.

The general she married leaned back against the door, looking her up and down with a smile of slow appreciation. "Well, you are mine now."

"I may be tied to you by state laws, but I am not yours", she spat.

"No", he smirked, "Not yet." He peels away from the doors, stepping closer. He takes off his black kefta, draping it on a chair. Beginning to unbutton his black, silk shirt, the General looked at her as if she were a caged bird meant for his amusement.

"There are some traditions for tonight", he took one step toward her as he hummed.

"Are you familiar with the word defenestration?" She raised her voice ever so slightly, refusing to step back in fright. He does not get to challenge her and win. Not now, not ever. She does not draw back in a fight, her father taught her so.

"No", he raised an eyebrow, unsure what she means.

"If you come anywhere close to me", she growled out, "I will make sure you find out first hand."

"Don't be so quick to dismiss a good time", he purred, coming closer.

"Oh please, my heel is bigger than your dick."

Raising his eyebrows, the Darkling nearly scoffed at her confidence in this matter. "How can you be so sure when you've never even seen it?"

"No man with anger like yours could ever have something in his pants worth my time."

"You are my wife, are you not?" He narrowed his eyes at her and she rolled hers in contempt.

"Unfortunately."

"Glad you're aware of it", he licks his lips, "Means we're on the same page."

"Same page? We're not even in the same book!"

Those eyes of hers, as fierce and unperturbed by anything he did, could swallow stars and galaxies and universes. As far as he's concerned, she did for he could see them all mirrored in the defiance she locked her gaze onto his with.

"This", he whispers aggressively. "You", he presses closer until his lips are but a faint inhale away from hers, "Are mine. He gazes down at her, gauging her reaction, his eyes burning.

"You're a demon", she speaks through gritted teeth. "I don't trust demons, I don't lay with demons", she pushed against his chest with both her hands, "All you do is destroy."

"I’d say the same thing about you, human."

Rolling her eyes at him, she refuses to relent. Her body is tense, her neck aching from looking up at his dark presence she would not bend before. She isn’t a horse to be broken, she’s a soldier, her father’s daughter.

“Why are you glaring at me?” He grumbled, his lips nearly brushing against hers and she noticed.

Her heart skipped a beat once she realized just how close he is, “I’m hoping you’ll combust spontaneously.”

Raising an eyebrow, a cold smile forms on his lips, “Ah, how cute. But you’re no Inferni.”

“I’m better���, she brought her knee up so swiftly he didn’t see it coming. As her knee collided right between his legs, Kirigan bent over, bellowing in pain.

“Don’t you know who I am?!” He growled with fury, struggling to straighten up. Forced to look up at the smug smile upon her lush, rosy lips, Kirigan never felt more enraged by a woman before.

“I do.” Shrugging, she sat at the bottom of the bed. “I just don’t fucking care. You don’t scare me.”

His gaze felt like fire, setting every inch of her skin aflame and she couldn’t help but wonder if it was hate or lust that burned so bright within him….within her. Either way, she knew she’d be teasing him like this every day if it meant he’d look at her like that. She always did like playing with fire, Inferni or not, and Kirigan just made himself an easy target.

On one knee, he gripped the sheets in an attempt to pull himself up, yet all he could do is groan and clutch his groin.

Gripping his chin, she locked her gaze on him with an unforgivable disobedience. “I wasn’t born to be soft and quiet. I’m not a dutiful wife who desperately seeks your attention. I’m a general’s daughter. I was born to make the world shatter and shake at my fingertips.” Turning his head to the door, she leans in and whispers in his ear. “And now you can leave while your manhood is still relatively untouched.”

“I could kill you for this”, the Darkling threatens, wishing he could wrap his hands around her pretty little neck and squeeze the resistance out of her along with her life.

“I’d like to see you try”, she sneered. Standing abruptly, she turned her back on him.

Sitting with his back against the doorframe, Darkling glared at her with burning passion – for vengeance, of course. While he assumed she’d be difficult, he didn’t presume her to be as strong-willed. A part of him was certain she’d cave once he turned on his charm, but she never allowed him to.

Noticing her hand movement, he quickly realized she’s unbuttoning her kefta as well. In seconds, his eyes widen as she slips the kefta off her shoulders and it falls to the floor. Nothing but a sheer gown hugs her body so tightly, the Darkling felt his breath stop in his throat.

Glancing over her shoulder, her eyes fixed on him, “Do you have no manners?”

She kept her eyes locked on his as she turned, opened her gown and slipped it from her shoulders, exposing her body to him. In his eyes appeared a mix of hunger and desire in such intensity that she was both excited and frightened.

“I’m the only one allowed to look at you, that’s a right you can’t strip me of.”

In time it takes for a heartbeat to echo in her ears, the Darkling stood before her. She took a shuddering breath as he gathered her into his embrace.

“Are you planning on forcing yourself onto me?” Y/N’s jaw clenched as her nostrils flare.

Pressing his lips together, his dark eyes narrow in disbelief, “Do you honestly believe me to be so evil?”

Speaking through gritted teeth, she remarks, “Yes.”

Nodding, her purses his lips. Raising his hands in mock surrender, Kirigan moves away from her. He straightens his back, finishing unbuttoning his shirt until the end – just before he lets it fall to the ground.

She swallows thickly, refusing to look anywhere below his chin. For a moment, she could have sworn a flash of hurt crossed his eyes, but she blamed the candlelight for the deceit. There is nothing good, nothing human in general Kirigan. He cannot feel hurt and she refused to let him past her defenses. She will not feel for him, she will not fall for him. He’s a task she had to manage, nothing more.

Unzipping his pants, he took the rest of his clothes off.

Her eyes flicker to his middle as he heads to the bed, realizing he’s wearing undergarments.

Relieved, Y/N opened the drawers, finding herself a proper nightgown to cover herself with. Once her body was no longer open to his view, she looked to him with pursed lips.

“I will not touch you”, he rolls his eyes, “But we are married. Might as well make the rest of the world believe the arrangement is somewhat functional.”

Looking at the door, she contemplated leaving. Sharing a bed with someone, anyone, was intimate. It required trust, love, a sense of safety and loyalty she certainly didn’t share with Kirigan.

“If you choose to leave, it will be all they talk about it the morning”, Darkling warns her and she huffs.

“If you lay a hand on me, I’ll be seeing you at the end of the altar once more. But in a casket during your funeral”, she glares at him and he can’t help but chuckle at her words.

He watched her settle in the bed, beside him. Placing a pillow between them seemed rather odd, but he didn’t mind it. In fact, he half expected her to make an attempt on his life on their wedding night. He still wasn’t sure she wouldn’t. He wasn’t sure he wouldn’t do the same.

“Sweet dreams, wife”, he smiled as she blew out the candle and the darkness settled in. He always felt comfortable in the dark.

She never felt comfortable in darkness, but he’d never know. She would be brave from now on – she wouldn’t bend, break or bow to anyone.

“I hope your dreams are filled with Volcra”, she snapped before turning on her side, further away from him.

Eventually, despite her initial distrust for the man, Y/N fell into a deep, exhausted sleep. She shifted in her sleep, throwing her leg over Kirigan’s, her hair twisting round and round his arm.

But the Darkling did not fall asleep immediately. She moved against him and snuggled closer. Even though she wouldn’t come close to him awake, she reached for him in her sleep. She wanted him nearby and it drew a smile to his lips. Catching himself smiling, the Darkling sat up in distress.

She may be appealing, but he cannot get attached to her. Ever.

His heart beats loudly, deafening so, his mind unable to slow down even for a moment. How could he fall asleep when he knew this angel beside him was simply a devil in disguise?

She’s a human – daughter of his enemy. Once she serves her purpose, the Darkling knew what he had to do. Turning her back on her side, he fixes the pillow in the middle. She’s a human, fleeting, he’s eternal and he will not allow himself the weakness of caring for someone like her.

Just as his mind drifts, he feels an arm wrap around him and he tenses up, eyes opening wide. “Fuck.”

Tags: @kaqua​ @savannah-elliott​ @all-art-is-quite-useless​

PART 3

[tarosin]

the great adventures of y/n tommy jack tubbo and george

requested yes/no

part 5 of the great adventures series

summary: training for the military

warning: cursing

AN: really sorry about this tumblr won’t let me change/add paragraphs so could look very weird

the journey there was quick for you, you spent the trip asleep in the back of the car whilst the others were discussing what you were all about to do “How difficult do you think it’s going to be” “dude it’s a military assault course” you woke up halfway there to the noise of the radio playing “afternoon y/n”“afternoon sorry I fell asleep I’m not used to being woken up early in the morning, I blame you guys and ranboo”“y/n have you ever wanted to join the military” “I can't say I have no” “well you’re going to love what we’re doing” “what are we doing” “you’ll see!”

you stood picking up more rocks and handing them to tubbo whilst Tommy and George began to film the introduction to the vlog “were in the jungle” confused you turned to tubbo “psst tubbo what the fuck are we doing, why are we in a woods” before tubbo had time to answer Tommy already began to answer your question telling you that you’re all training for the military, not taking him seriously you started laughing as you all were walking it was only when you were handed a jumpsuit to cover your clothes you realised it wasn’t a joke, you would be lying if you said you were ready for this, after all, you spent your free time playing Minecraft you wasn’t exactly great at sports

you managed to put the jumpsuit on pretty quickly unlike Tommy who was quite clearly struggling to get it on over his trainers “come on sergeant simons were doing a military assault course and you’re struggling to put on the clothes”after struggling to put clothes on the five of you stood together getting photos whilst you all looked decent “me and my boys in the jungle” “This isn’t going to go well” “we’re going to destroy it” “NO”

you hadn’t even reached the course yet and you were already tripping up over rocks and sticks that were on the muddy trail “we’re walking to our deaths..y/n is already falling over” “Hey I didn’t sign up to do exercise” once you finally reached the start of the course you were met with a canon, a dog and a man in a yellow jumper you stood as a team listening to what you were about to do and how you were actually a team of six, you hoped he meant the dog was a team member but no turns out the canon was the sixth member

“We have to take the canon with us” “...and take it apart into six pieces at each obstacle and rebuild it ” you handed your phone to the Russ, not trusting yourself to keep it on you especially since you were already tripping up before reaching the assault course “thank you” “good luck” “huh” you didn’t have time to process what was said as Mr military began counting down from three, the five of you ran to the first obstacle tubbo dragging the canon Tommy climbed over the net first with tubbo following after “What happens if I fall” it was as though you and tubbo had read each other’s mind as you both responded with “you’ll die” “death” you climbed over next with a wheel “reckon I can slide down the net” “that will hurt y/n don’t do- and you’re already doing it” you slid down the net despite George telling you not to do so, it didn’t take too long for the others to get over, you all began reassembling the canon “can we talk about our feelings” “I feel like shit I jumped out of a plane not long ago now I feel like I’m doing PE all over again” “Y/N JUST HELP BUILD THE CANON” “I'M TRYING ODDLY ENOUGH I'M NOT BUILT FOR THE MILITARY”once the canon was built Tommy and tubbo ran off with it “who’s going to tell them we need to test it” once Mr military shouted they ran back “why do we have to do this” “it’s the fucking rules Tommy and life is full of them” “like taxes” “tax fraud” a few seconds later the five of you yelled “bang” neither of you saying it at the same time “it didn’t work” “yes it did now come on”

you all ran towards the next obstacle, a giant wall. you all quickly dismantled the canon, Tommy went over first and began bickering with Mr military about him not being his dad whilst you tubbo and jack struggled to pass over the heaviest part of the canon “lift and lift” “really George? I thought we could just throw it over and hope he catches it” “Please don’t do that” “I am very sorry George but I'm struggling here” you continued your struggling tubbo tried to help Tommy through his words “you’re strong bossman I believe in you” “by the way, you really picked the shortest people to do this” part of the canon landed with a thud “welp hope he’s not dead” you climbed over next again carrying the wheel “he’s not dead guys don’t worry” you laughed as George took his time getting over the wall “I'm poving” “GET OVER THE WALL” you all stood questioning what time you were on completely forgetting that you were supposed to reassemble the canon “This is going to be embarrassing” “you guys could be rebuilding the canon” you could have built and tested the canon quickly however Tommy George and tubbo began telling people to subscribe whilst you built the canon with jack “we’re so good at this” “heh maybe not” you all test-fired the canon and made your way to the next obstacle

you were sent to go over the rope first, this was extremely difficult for you, the rope kept swaying as you walked causing you to lose your balance on multiple occasions “step on the V” “I’m going to fall” you made it over after a couple of minutes, like tubbo you also felt a bit ill, you assumed it was because it was quite hot and a lot was going on “how you feeling y/n” “Honestly, I’m jealous of ranboo, he’s at home living his best life and I’m in the middle of the woods overheating and climbing but no it’s pretty funny watching the others” you laughed as you overheard tubbo talking about how they’re only three obstacles in and how he’s going to die “YOU GOT THIS TUBBO!” Tommy crossed next, like you, he took his time he was then followed by tubbo who was trying to speed run walking over the rope you waited for jack and George cheering them on whilst Tommy was asking around for water and complaining about wearing a gamer hoodie. at this point, everyone seemed unmotivated “3 2 1.. bang”

“oh lovely..tires” tubbo went through first with the heaviest part of the canon “ill help you tubbo” you following behind helping him carry it due to it being stupidly heavily “so how are you tubbo” “AAAAAAAAAAA” “aye me too bud” you and tubbo decided that from now you two were going to work as a pair so it would be easier for you both, over the past few weeks tubbo became one of your closest friends the pair of you even started trending on Twitter as you did an irl stream where you both went on a walk at the beach and met several fans. whilst you and tubbo were making your way through Tommy jack and George we’re trying to figure out who should take what. “there’s piss in this one” “what the fuck?!” the pair of you finally got out from the tires “good job you two” “thank you” you rested your head on tubbos shoulder trying to get your breath back “I don’t think I’m made for the military” a few moments later Tommy made it to the tire full of water and put his finger in it “PEE” “Tommy why-” you stood looking around at the scenery, the sound of Tommy yelling about crawling away from George and that he’s ‘touched the piss’ was enough the drag you away from your own thoughts, you watched the others struggling to get through the tires and was amazed at the fact tubbo went back in to help them. you tried to ignore Tommy and George being dramatic as you tried to figure out how many more obstacles you had to go but you got distracted by George “ill just eat you if you die” “Mr military I’d like some help right about now” you walked over to Tommy and helped him get out of the tires “thanks y/n” “welcome” “how you doing bossman you know I pulled through your part...what are you doing that’s George's water” Tommy decided to throw the bottle to you so you could have a drink as he remembered you’d not had a drink since you landed from jumping out of the plane “Thanks, Tommy” “YOU BOTH DRANK GEORGES WATER” “he can drink the piss” “what Tommy said” you laughed as you walked over to where jack was in the tires “ HI JACK” “Jesus christ you scared me, hi y/n” you stood waiting for everyone to finish “I know exactly what the slowest time was” “we’re going for a new record it’s fine” “of being the slowest?” “yeah” “you know what Mr military ill clart you” “you’ll what me” “I’m gonna just go over here” you walked over to where parts of the canon were and got ready to assemble it again whilst George began throwing water over jack and tubbo to bless them then did the same to Tommy, you hid behind a tree thinking he wouldn’t notice you, however, he did and within a minute you too had water poured on you “Thanks, I was thirsty” “oh we know” “The fuck is that supposed to mean” “HELP BUILD THE CANON PLEASE” like last time you all built the canon tested it and ran to the next obstacle

“can we just you know drag the already built canon under there with us” “absolutely not” “I tried” you all disassembled it again and like last time you and tubbo went first crawling under “I don’t want to alarm you all but it is soaking wet in here” “delightful” a few moments later you were both working well “tubbo I’m scared of the dark and it’s pitch black” “you’ve got this bossman we’re almost done” you calmed down quickly until Tommy decided to jump above the pair of you

“SORRY” “TOMMY I SWEAR TO GOD” “YOU DICK” you laughed slightly and tubbo checked up on you “you okay?” “I'm fine if you’re fine” “come on let’s finish this thing” the pair of you continued and finished relatively quickly tubbo got out first “NEVER AGAIN” “Sorry about that buddy” “WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU” you helped push part of the canon out so tubbo could easily drag it out he then reached out so you could hold his hand and help pull you out “I've never been so happy to see the light” the pair of you sat on the floor waiting for the others to finish, you both made a bet on who was going to laugh first somehow you won as tubbo laughed at George and jack struggling to crawl through “YOU LAUGHED” “OH SHITTT” Russ came over to you both whilst recording so he could ask about how everything’s going “I’m covered in mud and the jumpsuit is wet, it isn’t a good day for the y/n community it was dark as hell in there “Tommy is a dick and tried to kill me and y/n” “I DIDN'T TRY TO KILL YOU BOTH” “I think he heard us” “WE ALL DID WERE NOT DEAF” “NO, BUT ACCORDING TO INSTAGRAM YOU'RE DEAD” you stared directly into the camera “sometimes it’s like I still hear jack talking to me” George and jack started complaining about how much further the is to go and how it was dirty and Tommy's response about being sorry it doesn’t fit their tory lifestyle made you burst out laughing “YOU LAUGHED” “tubbo my beloved you laughed ages ago you’ve already lost” “But we’re equal now” “no” the pair of you stood bickering to the point you didn’t realise the others had finished the obstacle and were shouting for you to test the canon “Y/N TUBBO WE NEED TO TEST THE CANON” the pair of you ran over “3 2 1 BANG”

“just going to warn you all you see that black cloud over there” “oh yay a storm is coming” you grabbed a wheel and followed behind jack across the wooden bridge “y/n he’s been splintered” “oh no poor George” “these are my gaming fingers” “no gaming for you I guess” “Stop talking about gaming dickheads” you spent a lot of time talking to George and jack whilst crossing over trying not to fall over you all even made a few plans to stream a laugh and the stream ends on jacks channel soon

you were all building the canon again whilst being informed you weren’t even halfway through and already 40 minutes in “high score” “well it’s definitely high” “Y/N??” “coming tubbo hang on my shoelace came undone” after tying your shoelace you grabbed a wheel and caught up to tubbo “if you go over tubbo ill pass it over to you and we can keep doing that” this method worked well for you both tubbo would climb over you would pass the wheel and middle part of the canon then climb over and repeat the process you heard Tommy in the background complaining about the fact he’s wearing jeans and jacks response “Yeah but I’m wearing jeans” “tubbo and y/n are almost done and you’re complaining about jeans” “jean boy pops off” “I'M WEARING JEANS AS WELL QUIT COMPLAINING” “Can we just go home and play smash bros” “Tommy this was your idea I didn’t even get on an option” “Sorry about that y/n but you get to spend time with me and gogy” “lucky me” you weren’t going to lie this was hard work and you were exhausted you felt like you could just fall asleep right where you were stood however tubbo wasn’t going to let that happen “I’m never going on an adventure with Tommy again” “me either” this of course was bullshit and you were both going on another adventure soon you stood watching your friends struggle to get over the obstacles you decided to offer your support and went to help jack and George using a similar method to that you used with tubbo “thanks y/n” “anytime” “y/n you could have helped me, tubbo pulled me over I could have been injured” “very sorry to hear that sergeant simons sucks to suck I guess” you all reassembled the canon tested it and ran to the next obstacle “I hate it here” “there’s a storm on the way” “Thanks, y/n for the input” “welcome George” you all noticed the net luckily you didn’t have to disassemble the canon this very well could be because you were running far behind and a storm was on its way. you watched as the others went through and joked about tubbo losing his shoe and Tommy getting stuck, this obstacle wasn’t made for you either as you kept getting caught on the net “I'VE BEEN CAUGHT AGAIN” jack lifted the net for you again so you could easily crawl through “thank you jack” you all then made it to the next obstacle Tommy crawled on the metal bars with you following after him whilst George used the monkey bars once you all made it across you had to walk across many metal planks used to form a bridge Tommy walked close behind you knowing you were extremely clumsy and didn't want you to fall “irl nettles” “The fuck are you on about Tommy I don’t think you’re following my advice about going outside” you all dissembled the canon as you got to the tires the only difference this time was you needed to climb over them “it’s rather windy” “there’s dirt in my eye” like before you and tubbo used the same method “look at them go” “I LIKE A DA BEE” “I'M SCARED OF BEES” “oh okay” “Why do they keep taking the plank” “I don’t know tubbo just takes it and y/n follows” you both finished rather quickly and neither of you got injured or fell “really good job you two” “thank you Mr military” you stood leaning on tubbo watching George pick up random rocks and put them into his pocket similar to what you had been doing the entire way around the course “I don’t think George or y/n have been outside before they keep picking things up like souvenirs” “Y/N GEORGE HAVE YOU EVER BEEN IN THE RAIN BEFORE” both of you just stared at Tommy making him laugh you helped the others get across the tires and even helped prevent Tommy from falling a couple of times. unfortunately, you ended up twisting your ankle but tried to ignore it not wanting to ruin the vlog for anyone, not that you would have, however it was clear you were in pain as you had started limping. one at a time you all crossed the rope “This is me climbing I am climbing” you cheered everybody on and then it was your turn

unlike the others the rope kept shaking as you walked across mainly because you were scared of falling and in pain all whilst trying to rush, this was clearly your least favourite obstacle of the day “take your time y/n don’t fall” “thank you jack I'm trying my best I promise” once at the end of the rope, Tommy took the wheel off you and helped you get down and pulled you into a quick side hug “you’re doing great let’s go we’re almost done” you knew your friends wouldn’t make you continue if you really didn’t want to however you were nearly finished and was determined to finish. you all reassembled the canon and made your way to the next obstacle

“there’s no way we’re getting through that without twanging a rope” “good luck” you and tubbo made your way through the ropes trying not to hit them, this proved to be a pretty impossible task and you ended up twanging the ropes several times, this mixed with everyone else’s failure to cross without hitting the rope meant you all had to do 20 push-ups, after reassembling the canon twice as you all didn’t do it correctly the first time and testing it you all had to do the push-ups “I’m sure y/n and George only did 3” “sorry bossman”

you all were finally making your way to the last obstacle determined to finish “Big Russ can we go to McDonald's after this” “sure” the five of you cheered and ran the last obstacle quickly disassembling the canon, you led the way over the obstacle tubbo Tommy jack and George following behind you, despite tubbo losing his shoe and George going backwards the five of you quickly completed the obstacle and reassembled and tested the canon running over to the finishing line

you all finally completed it and waited for your result “45 minutes easily” “1 hour 11 minutes and 46 seconds” “no way that’s a world record” “well we tried” the five of you stood telling people to subscribe before ending the recording and making your way back to the car

the car ride back felt a lot longer than the way there. you were all exhausted

“how’s your ankle” “it’s not too bad it’ll probably hurt more tomorrow morning”

“I'm still not over Tommy trying to kill me and tubbo” “I didn’t try to kill you” “sure” the rest of the journey was chaos you all screamed along to the songs on the radio eventually you all got to McDonald's and spent the rest of the night enjoying each other’s company.

taglist

@l0ver0fj0y @c1loudee

[harveywritings92]

BNHA Scenario: You fall asleep in their room.

Hawks: You've known Keigo since he first started out as a hero and were living with after a villain attack left your apartment destroyed, which both awesome and devastating to you, awesome you get to see your best friend and crush on his off time! but devastating because he doesn't know you like him... and it hurts knowing that while you're here on the penthouse balcony eating take-out drinking canned wine, looking down at the streets below... Hawks is out on some fancy date with some fangirl, who he's never gonna call again!

A sigh left your mouth as you pulled away from the railing nearly stumbling backwards a bit! luckily the feather Hawks left in the penthouse (or as Kei lovingly called it the nest.) caught you and gently pushed you back on your feet and just kind of hovered close in case you fell over,

(Meanwhile... Keigo flinched feeling his feather impact with something, worried he to excuse himself from his date and call you! and got nervous when you didn't answer.)

Deciding to call it a night you tossed your can in the recycling bin and went to bathroom, not seeing your phone light up when Hawks called... afterwards you managed to stumble into your room and pass out on your "bed" not noticing the fact that that your full size mattress was suddenly a king size and your blankets and sheets weren't the normal purple flannel ones you usually snuggled into.

Keigo got home 15 minutes later...

"Y/n?...I'm back!" He called out looking around the living room trying to see if you were awake, no answers he locked the door and put his keys on the counter when he noticed, the empty cans on it he check the labels and realized they were wine and hard water... he let out a small whistle reading the labels some of these were hard core 17% alcohol!... *She didn't drink these by herself did she?* he went over toward the guest room but saw the door close and assumed you were sleeping...

Keigo then went to his room and got ready for bed, and froze when he sensed he wasn't alone, he looked over at his bed as saw a person laying there, the blond tensed up and kept his feathers train on them as he approached he lifted the blanket and... Keigo's feathers dropped when he saw you laying fast asleep in his bed... His mind kind of stalled to a screeching halt as he stared at you there curled up and vulnerable...

He should've woken you up... should've told you to go back to your room, but instead the avian man just finished getting ready for bed and settled down next you taking your serene features and playing with your [hl/hc] hair as one of his wings covered you protectively before drifting off to sleep.

The it was the crack of dawn you woke up with a bad hangover and confused your bed felt and smelled different... almost like, a large red wing lazily jutted over your body and rested next to your head, Your eyes widened hangover momentarily forgotten as you got a good look around and realized you weren't in your room! you felt an arm thrown over you waist turned to see Keigo sleeping, you swallowed and tried to slip away, while trying to think how your going apologize for this! only for the blond to hold on tighter and pulled you back towards him, you looked back and saw his gold eyes glaring at her half lidded with a clear message. "Go back to sleep." you blinked before laying back down and relaxed in Keigo's arms going back to sleep.

===============================

Dabi: You stupidly trusted Toga who was fooling around with her quirk and was disguised as a dude said she'd take you back to your room after you over did it at the bar, you were pretty plastered Kurogiri cut you off and told you to go to bed! Toga offered to help you out, cos Dabi your supposed partner was too busy flirting with some random chick; who had wandered in with her entourage, not uncommon as the league needed the money so occasionally, they'll open the bar to civilians though most of them were drugged by the end of the night and dropped at random spots so that can't tell people where they were. (but anywho)

Toga had said she'd take you back to your room and in your drunken haze, you foolishly trusted her as she led you way from the bar. and far away from a certain cremator, who didn't take your absence lightly... Toga's quirk had worn off by the time she dropped you off in Dabi's room and happily went back to her room, curious about how this was gonna play out tomorrow! Dabi was pissed when he approached your room he went to knock on your door, but paused. You weren't his girl... he can't tell you what to do nor who to screw! So then why hell did it feel like he was being cheated on? He growled and went to his room, where he was in for a shock when he found you passed in his bed!...

Dabi was so confused if you were here? then who th-..." Toga..." he hissed tired and annoyed the raven haired man walked over to his bed and glared down at you with mild interest, "I don't know what the hell you're doing to me N/n..." he huffed thinking back to the bar the rage he felt seeing what he thought was some fugly guy was dragging you off to bed with him. "I turned down... A blonde, bisexual, bridesmaid for you, that's like the unicorn of bar girls!" he mused playing with your bangs as he laid down next to you. "I've been doing that a lot lately..." he hummed voice getting huskier as sleep over took him...while holding onto you.

================================

Shigaraki: You been awake for three days straight, doing random missions for the league and were very disoriented you hadn't even realized you wandered into Shigaraki's room and settled down next to the gaming dust master, luckily your quirk cancels his out, So you weren’t a dust pile when he rolled over in his sleep and instinctively wrapped his arms around whatever was making him feel warm.

Two hours later

The last thing Tomura was expected when he woke up from his nap was him spooning a girl! He jolt out of bed shocked and looked around confused, what the hell were you doing in his room? why did you... his eyes widened when he realized it you weren't dead…how come you weren't a pile of dust?! he looked at his hand then back at you and brought a shaky hand to you cheek gently put all five fingers to you warm flesh.. nothing happened! He can touch you...

Shigaraki let a choked gasp as he laid back down next you to taking in your features, he's noticed you lot as you're always kind of pretty for an NPC and you liked videogames too! but other then that he was too shy to try and interact with you... other telling you where to go and what to do, least  now he had reason to start talking to you more.

He then noticed the bags under your eyes and how sickly you looked... Shigaraki's eyes narrowed as he wondered why that was? he got his answer when he heard two male voices talking down the hall. "Dammit Kurogiri put me on night patrol again!" one huffed as the other male snorted. "So what? just get Y/n to do it.. she's easy to screw over, just tell her you were given her job by mistake." the first asked is that worked, the second one confirmed it.

Tomura was getting angrier as they continued making fun of you! he got up careful not to wake you and opened the door and closed it, "Oh, hey boss!...what are you Ack!!!" there was struggle for a few seconds then Tomura's muffled talking and muffled. "Yes sir, I'm sorry sir!", then Shigaraki walked back in his room, leaving Guy 1 staring at the pile dust that used to be Guy 2. Shigaraki laid back down next you holding you hand.

================================

Bakugou: You went to bathroom and accidently wandered into his dorm and he hadn't even noticed you slip into bed next to him, until he woke up at around 3 am and felt arms around his waist, Katsuki was ready to blow a gasket. "WHO TH-" he choked up and blushed when he saw it was you...his crush, how the... what the hell are you doing in his bed?! how did you even get into his room?! His red eyes fixated on his door and saw it wasn't locked.

He must've forgot to lock it after he told Shitty-hair and Dunce-face to get lost! Well, it was too late now. you were here, and he wasn't gonna let you get in trouble over a mistake! and besides he kind of enjoying feeling you holding onto him like this... it was warm and kind of felt nice Katsuki felt himself relax and drifted of back to sleep.

Needless to say Aizawa was not a happy teacher when he found you sleeping in Bakugou's bed both teens didn't know what was coming as Aizawa slowly raised the bucket full of ice water over his head and... Outside birds flew away the sound of screaming and the deafening explosion that followed.

[lyssahlyssah]

Obey Me! Lucifer's Dream

a/n: This is a piece for the lead-up to Kinktober. I wanted to bring the unevolved, evil, and dangerous Lucifer out in a safe environment where no one actually ends up getting hurt. The timeframe is just after MC arrives in the devildom and meets everyone, but hasn't had time to get close and develop relationships. Thanks to @theinariakuma for beta-ing.

Trigger warnings: fantasy violence, implied fantasy murder, implied fantasy rape, sadism, anger, dark themes.

Pairing: F!MC x Lucifer

Category: not suitable for work, dark fantasy

//

Midnight rolled around again and Lucifer rubbed his temples with gloved fingers. With no sun, day and night had little meaning here, but even so, he had been awake for five straight days, a full two days longer than his normal and it was starting to show.

Irritably, he signed his name to the latest document in front of him and with a scowl, snapped the pen in two between his fingers. I mean, how much was a demon supposed to take?

First, there was helping Diavolo with his extra paperwork since Barbatos was on vacation, then overseeing the RAD student council... Mammon playing the fool... and now babysitting the new human exchange student. The last one took an enormous amount of his resources because she was just so damn fragile. He was always having to watch over her, keep lesser demons from devouring her, creating special education for her, and most of all, controlling his own temper so he wouldn't kill or frighten her. She obviously didn't belong here, but Diavolo was firm with his instructions regarding the human, she was to be treated as gently as if she was back in her own world.

He scoffed, irritation sliding into anger. Something about interworld relations. Really, who cares at all about that. If his time in the Celestial Realm had taught him anything, it was that humans were weak, unworthy of his time, and invited trouble. Trouble was already something they had plenty of, thanks to Mammon.

And he certainly didn't care about maintaining relations with the Celestial Realm, he didn't want to see another angel for the rest of his life.

He resented the extra intrusion on his time. Solomon was a different story, he could take care of himself and required very little attention, and as far as Lucifer cared, could stay as long as he liked, so long as he didn't try to cook.

Uninvited, her face floated into his mind and he angrily stuffed the thought away. MC... What kind of a name is MC anyway, he thought.

He got up and walked to the piano, sitting down in front of the keys, hoping some music could help clear and calm his head. Playing a few bars of his favorite composer, De La Lordo, he closed his eyes and leaned into the music. However, his anger continued to throb and as it did so, his fingers tripped over one another causing a shriek of dissonance that cut through the silence of his office like a knife.

Irritation exploding, he slammed down the lid to the keys. Even his favorite classical music couldn't cool him down. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw HER face. HER body. HER skin. He didn't understand. He was the chosen one of his father's creations, the strongest, the most beautiful, the most talented, the most intelligent. His burgeoning attraction to something so unremarkable sent waves of revulsion and confusion tumbling through him.

Unable to control his anger and disgust, he rampaged through his office; and only after his curtains and furniture were hanging in shreds with several new vase-shaped holes in the walls did he finally sit down hard in the armchair by his fireplace, leather creaking to accommodate his weight. He hadn't lost his temper like this for a long time, but he knew his brothers wouldn't dare approach his door after hearing his wrath. Spent, he pushed his sweaty hair out of his face and leaned his head back against the soft surface, eyes closing.

...squeals in the dark.

Everything was fuzzy. He shook his head roughly to clear it, but the cloudiness stubbornly held on. Hazily, he pushed through long-limbed bushes that grasped at his hair and clothes into a woody clearing and there she was. Small, perfect, tearful eyes wide, gag tightening into the sides of her mouth, hands tied in front of her. She's naked. A fire to one side, casting flickering shadows that danced across her terrified face.

His heart started to race and his breathing quickened. This is a dream, he thought.

Touching his tongue to his upper lip, and then dragging it across the top of his lower teeth, he continued to watch her struggle. He felt dark urges bubbling up within him...he wanted to hurt her. Use her. Feed off her fear. The longer he watched, the stronger the urges became.

His fingers curled up in tight fists at his side. How good it would feel to let go...stop controlling himself for once. Stop doing what everyone expected of him. Just be free. Free to hate. Free to rage. Free to destroy.

The passion was too intoxicating to resist. With eyes closed, he let the anger take him. Roaring, he exploded into fire, white-hot flames threatening to sear his bones to ash. His handsome face melted into a horrific ghastly caricature of its former self. Pain as blackened wing tips burst through the taut skin of his back leaving bloody and ragged holes around them, pain as one curled horn ground its way free of the top of his head, then the other. Pain as his bones stretched to make him larger, thicker, new muscles pulsating with power. Pain as his claws burst from his fingertips impaling themselves on his palms as he ground his fists with rage.

All was pain and he drank it in like a man dying of thirst. His transformation complete, he throbbed with energy, heat, and rage.

The poor girl had yet to see him emerge from the darkness, but emerge he did, at last, a red glow upon the ground and an earth-shaking tremor heralding his arrival. Her already widened eyes, bulged from their sockets. Too scared to make a noise, strangled whimpers were all that emerged from around the gag.

Standing tall in all his terrible glory before her, her fear increases his desire.

He frees himself from his pants and masturbates furiously. He can't remember how long it's been since he touched himself like this, with an anger and intent. Or at all, for that matter. Passion had all but dried up for him after his fall from grace. Life had become controlling his brothers and the mundane of Diavolo's paperwork. It felt good just to feel anything again.

Sadistically, he chuckled lowly. His beautiful, terrible eyes narrowing, he lets loose his enormous hard cock, where it hangs heavily erect against his leg, waiting. Her eyes follow its movements and he revels in her horror. She knows what's going to happen and that she has absolutely no way to stop it.

Even through her fear and almost as a betrayal to herself, she can't help but feel a supernatural attraction to him, his power, his beauty. He can sense it as well, and it increases his contempt for her.

It's only too easy, he thinks arrogantly. She can't help but want me, even like this. I can smell it all over her. She wants to get fucked by a monster.

It confirms all of his previously-held beliefs that humans are inferior. He sneers, face contorting. Pitiful. So weak...so insignificant. Utterly disposable.

That last thought ignited his lust to new levels. Here was a toy he could abuse with no repercussions to his conscience. She wasn't worth consideration or care. Since she was beneath his respect, he could be himself completely.

Dark excitement pushing him forward, he took a quick step towards her, and she cringed backward against her restraints, desperate to flee.

He smiles. "It's no use trying to escape, little one," he said cruelly, his soft words contradicted by his harsh tone."Escape doesn't exist for you anymore. You're mine. "

Her screams echo throughout the woods, full of terror and ecstasy.

Hours later, the screams fade as a long howl rises. The girl's mangled body lies still on the ground, every orifice stuffed full and dripping, blood on the ground. Her face is quiet, eyes glassy with rapture, expression frozen in terror. He'd never seen anything so beautiful.

His violence finally sated, Lucifer stands with his bloody cock dripping, drenched in sweat and other fluids, parts of himself slipping back into human form. An unexpected warm rush fills him as he looks at her, and impulsively, he leans down and tenderly kisses her cooling cheek.

At the touch of her flesh, his eyes open and he is back in his office chair. His grandfather clock lets him know morning has come.

The chair lies in ruins around his outline, he had transformed outside of his dream as well. He shifts in the chair and his pants catch against him uncomfortably, sticky, full of his cum several times over. He feels an overwhelming sense of release, of a long-overdue itch scratched, a boiling tea kettle that has let off its steam. Feeling powerful and confident, he rises to clean himself and get ready for the day.

Later

"Once again, Lucifer will be providing you with your lessons and general protection this week," Diavolo said conversationally to the girl. All three of them were sitting in Diavolo's office, sipping tea kept at the perfect temperature by Barbatos's careful attentions. The girl hesitantly looked over her teacup towards Lucifer, remembering the handsome demon's obvious irritation the week before.

"I'm at your command," Lucifer said silkily, cooly polite. He showed none of the irritation from before, and in fact...looked perfectly content with his extra duties.

For a second, she thought she heard something odd in his tone...what, she wasn't sure.

She glanced his way again, and shivered as she saw he was watching her...a faint smile on his lips, red eyes glowing.

[yhwhsdaughter]

pairing: trevor belmont x fem reader

content: forced vampirism, monster slaying, main character death, pining, angst, mention of animal death, usage of the word ‘assault’ to refer vampires feeding on reader

- this was meant as platonic soulmates but it can be seen as romantic too

“It hurts…”

Feet dragging across the rocky ground, you heard screeches of pain from behind, though they soon diminished. You could only focus on the pulsing sensation at the side of your neck; it was like fire rushing through your veins.

Preoccupied with your agony, Belmont was able to sneak up. He raised his whip, ready to kill off the last of the creatures when you suddenly turned, and with glossy eyes you said, “Help me…”

The whip managed to leave a thin horizontal line across your cheek as he pulled back, causing blood to drip out slowly. Now illuminated by the moon, Belmont saw the damage on you. Skin exposed by the ripped clothes showed multiple bite marks. Blood stained the corner of your lips.

She’s been infected..

Belmont didn’t see a monster but a scared woman who’d just been assaulted by vampires. He knew what she’d turn into, but he couldn’t kill her… not when she looked at him like this. Sunrise was approaching so he had to act fast.

Draping his cloak onto your form, Belmont proceeded to carry you into the nearest building, which so happened to be where the carnage had occurred. Upon recognizing the place, you began to panic, shaking and looking at him with distrust. “You’re safe. I killed every last of those bloodsuckers.”

The two of you stayed like that for a while, in that shitty stinking room. Eventually tiredness overcame your senses; Belmont felt weight settle on his shoulder. He wonder how a vampire could look so innocent whilst sleeping.

“Hungry…”

You felt parched; it felt like your throat had dried up, barely able to utter a word.

“I know.”

A rabbit was placed in front of you. Blinking at it, you directed a confused glance at the man. “I’m—this is.. for me?” He nodded. Taking the animal with traces of disgust, you raised it to your mouth. Blood gushed into your mouth; feeding made a horrible slurping that would certainly haunt you but there was relief amongst those troubling feelings.

You gulped every last drop, draining the poor creature of its life. Still, your hunger and thirst weren’t satiated. Biting your lip, you pondered on the next move. Because this man had saved you, daring to kill him or even feed off him seemed… rude. Not to mention, he seemed way stronger than you in terms of experience. Prior to this, you were a regular citizen. Maybe you could run away?

“Here.”

Trevor could see your turmoil. Most vampires needed to drain at least one human every time they fed—if they were being generous. They could survive weeks without blood but it made them weaker. Besides, it was older vampires who had this kind of self control. Newborns tended to be more unstable.

“Just take it before I change my mind.”

You did as told, though you were still unsure. Hesitating, you licked your lips before nearing towards the vein on his wrist.

Trevor let out a grunt when your fangs pierced him. Although you tried to be gentle, it was an uncomfortable feeling nonetheless. As he became lightheaded and you full, the mouth that was attached to his wrist removed itself with a ‘pop’.

After making sure he was alright, you asked for his name. “Trevor. Trevor Belmont.”

“Oh..”

“……”

“Oh! I’m (Name) (Surname).”

─── ☾☼☽ ───

“It’s dangerous.”

“I still-still want to go!”

The last remnants of sun were gone. Ever since your first encounter with the rugged monster hunter, you refused to part from him, following the latter like a lost puppy.

“I’m not much of a fighter.. b-but watch this!”

On cue, you punched the nearest tree, cracking it and making a sizable hole. You looked back proudly towards Trevor; except when you tried to pull your hand out, you were having difficulty.

“Ah. It’s stuck.”

Trevor couldn’t help but chuckle, walking away, clearly amused with your display of power. You pulled harder, “Hold on! Don’t leave me alone! It’s scary..” you muttered the last part while chasing after him. Despite being a creature of the night, the world and its evils still frightened you.

At the sound of a branch snapping, you yelped, grabbing a piece of Trevor’s cloak for security.

It shouldn’t have come as a surprise to Belmont when you punched a head clean off, practically decapitating one of the attackers. He might have been seriously injured if you had not intervened.

“Trevor.”

Gazing at you under the moonlight, he saw the hunger in your eyes as you held a man whom was still alive but struggling. His neck was exposed. Even so, you waited.

The Belmont turned away, giving you privacy to feed.

He knew that by allowing you to live, you would continue to take blood from others. Normally he wouldn’t feel soft towards a monster but whenever he thought of you, it was different.

His guilt was lessened when you drank from scum. Before putting the lives of innocents in danger, he would offer his own.

“Are you done?”

The corpse of the man was dropped unceremoniously as you joined Trevor, a light skip to your step.

─── ☾☼☽ ───

Despite adopting a nighttime lifestyle, Trevor was still human and had to conduct business during daylight hours.

He’d left your lodgings, which was an abandoned cottage, for a while. Nobody really passed through there anyway, so he thought you were safe. Worst came to worse, you could handle yourself. But as your self proclaimed protector, Trevor felt uneasy leaving you alone.

Maybe he should’ve listened to his gut because when he arrived, the door was wide open with dirty footprints leading in all the way to your coffin.

Two men had opened it—staring at the peaceful expression on your face, unaware that they were here to end you. To them it was obvious what you were. Even with that frilly white dress that made you look somewhat angelic, they couldn’t be fooled. As they raised their weapons to strike, Trevor used his whip. His sudden entrance startled them but it gave you the chance to wake up.

Eyes snapping open, you jumped onto the other man, taking both of you to the ground. His screams echoed shortly as you tore into his throat. The remaining one had no chance; Trevor left the room, closing the door on his way out, killing the light that entered and cutting off the way to escape.

Left alone with your prey, a smile crept up your face.

When you opened the door again, the dress which decorated your body was now stained red. There was hardly a clean piece on the material. Even so, you greeted Trevor with a hug.

“Trevor..”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

“M-me too..”

─── ☾☼☽ ───

Forty years passed in the blink of an eye.

“You should retire.”

“Belmonts don’t retire. The only rest they get is when they’re dead.”

“Well I don’t want you to die.”

“I have to, someday.”

“No you don’t.”

It’s been like this for the past few years; Trevor was sixty now. His body didn’t look that of an aging man, but the expression on his face did. He’d seen too much and as time passed, it was harder to fight monsters by himself.

Of course you’d noticed that and suggested turning him. It was an ongoing discussion; Trevor didn’t fancy the idea of living an eternal life but the thought of leaving this earth without you was disheartening. He didn’t say it but the situation tore him apart.

There was also the fact that he was too old for you; forty years to be exact. You’d maintained your youth, looking lovely as ever. His doubts were shot down when you immediately said that you didn’t care about that.

“I just want you.”

He always kept pushing the conversation away and you were patient. Trevor supposed that you could’ve taken him by force if you wanted and when he inquired, you told him it would be like violating him, robbing him of the choice you were never given.

As understanding as you were; the time would come for him to decide and confront you about it.

That time was now.

He should have been more careful, but there was nothing to be done about it now. Trevor watched as the sun slowly descended. Would you make it here before he passed? Would he die without seeing you one last time?

When you woke night had already fallen. Trevor wasn’t home; he’d been late plenty of times before but this occasion felt different.

Upon stepping outside, the smell of blood hit you. It reeked, staining the very air. You immediately recognized the source—how could you not? You’d fed from Trevor countless times.

Rushing in that direction, you prayed to whatever entity was listening to keep Trevor safe. The world and its gods could condemn you, but not him.

Not him.

You found him sprawled on a big rock, a creature hovering over his crumpled figure. Without thinking, you tore it to pieces. Blood rained as his mangled body flew to various parts of the forest.

“Trevor!!!”

He let out a groan, which would’ve made you sigh in relief but his visible injuries proved otherwise. You were no doctor and even if you could carry him into town, it would be too late. There was no other option. If you didn’t do anything, you might lose him.

“Trevor. Let me do it.”

Still conscious enough to reply, “I don’t want to become—”

“A monster?”

“I cannot become what I sought to destroy..”

Tears escaped your eyes, blurring the image of the person whom you treasure most. “Please.. please please please..! Don’t leave me alone!”

You begged, knowing it was unfair to pressure him in such way but you couldn’t bare the thought of existing if he wasn’t present. He was your salvation, your companion…your world. And yet, he was being robbed from you.

So soon… It’s too soon!

You always imagined Trevor living well into old age, spending the remainder of his life with you, being happy. He was destined to die peacefully, not like this. Not in this shitty place, by the hands of a shitty monster!

“I can’t. I’m sorry..”

Grabbing his hands, you lowered your forehead on them, crying your heart out. It was unfair. Life was unfair.

“Kiss me.”

Despite the pain that he was in, Trevor found it in himself to smile. For you. “Kiss me one last time.” Tears dropped slowly as you heard him. Shaking your head; you couldn’t kill him.

“I want it to be you..”

His words struck a chord.

Lifting him by the neck in a gentle manner, you pushed the collar of his shirt aside, exposing his carotid. As you bit into his familiar skin once more, your other hand caressed him, trying to make this goodbye as painless as possible.

With every sip you took, tears fell down.

I love you! I love you! I love you!

His warm hand turned cold.

You held him in your arms like he once did to you, with the outmost care, with the love he deserved.

Since Trevor didn’t say where he wanted his body to be buried, you chose the nicest spot. It was a secluded place where it wouldn’t be dug up by animals or people—but not so hidden either.

Whilst cleaning the blood that covered his body and face, you found a piece of cloth with writing on it. Staring at it, you recognized the Belmont insignia. Turning the material, you managed to read the words…

Take this. Go to Alucard.

Trevor must’ve written that in his final moments; probably in case he didn’t make it before you arrived. The letters were sloppy because of the blood but you could read it well.

Clutching it to your chest, you sobbed until the light of day began to burn. For a moment you wished to stay there and disappear. Perhaps you could join Trevor.

Together even in death..

─── ☾☼☽ ───

The journey was rather long.

Looming in all its glory, Castle Dracula. You looked at the last piece of your beloved, holding it tighter in your hand.

“Okay. Let’s meet this Alucard.”

[tamcitrus]

Fire and moon.

pairing: Benimaru Shinmon x fem. reader

genre: nsfw

words: 3,5 k.

warnings: a bit of degradation, public sexy time, orgasm denial, overstimulation, dom/sub undertones.

tam’s notes: Hi miss @writeiolite​ ! I’m you HQC secret santa! ♥ I was so nervous when I got you omg sjkdhas because I admire your writing so much, you’re so talented and an amazing person so I was a little afraid my writing wouldn’t be good enough. I’m so thankful for meeting you and all the beautiful people in the server. Thanks for being so welcoming, thanks for letting me help you and be a part of the staff and most of all thanks for being my friend. I hope you like this ♥

I CANT BELIVE IT’S YOUR GIF BUT HEY YOU HAVE A CLUE WHAT THIS IS ABOUT NOW dsjfhksldjf

☪ ☪ ☪ ☪ ☪

When you left the Holy Sol Temple and chose to move to Asakusa, you never expected to find a man that attracted you there. The proto-nationalist land wasn't a place where you expected to have fun. You just wanted to keep a low profile and be in peace.

But then you saw this man, flying through the sky and destroying everything on his way down to finally land in front of an infernal and punch right through his chest. And something sparked inside you. It wasn't your pyrokinesis or a fight or flight response. It was something else.

Shinmon Benimaru. That was his name. Fire Force Seventh Company’s Captain. Asakusa’s King of Destruction. The #1 enemy of the Holy Sol Temple, or so they said.

After that destruction scene, you walked through the city trying to get more information on him. But also, just socialicing. It would be weird for a new citizen to ask too much about the same person. More so if that person was the head of the city.

This “king” wasn’t like others you could imagine. He wasn’t unapproachable, living in a castle surrounded of gold and extravagant stuff. He was there, among his people, walking through the streets and greeting everyone by their name. He received gifts, food, and talked to those that stopped him. You could say just by looking that he was recognized as a leader. Even when he didn’t acknowledge that himself.

The stars were on your side because soon after that you met him in the thermal waters. He was there, sitting with his arms stretched by his sides and with his eyes closed. You felt like a sparkle inside you, almost like tickles. You walked in silence to the other end of the pool, going in and sitting very slowly.

Benimaru felt another presence behind him and then felt the water moving as you submerged your body in the warm waters. He opened his eyes for a second to look at you and then closed them again. He preferred to be alone but as long as you wouldn’t talk to him he didn’t mind the company.

You were quiet the whole time you were there. It wasn’t an unpleasant silence. But you were expectant. You tried to not look at him. You really tried but you allowed yourself to observe what was on your eye level.

He was handsome. Not that you didn’t know that, but it was a whole different experience having him in front of your eyes, not even a meter away from your body. And naked. He was naked.

Of course he’s naked, these are thermal waters, you thought.

You were naked too. Suddenly you were self conscious, even when he wasn’t looking. You crossed your arms over your chest to cover yourself and closed your eyes to submerge your whole body underwater and came up again. You sat there in silence again, looking at the moon, the house behind the man, the rocks and everything but him.

Eventually he left. You looked aside but still you noticed he stopped to look at you for a second too long.

You left a bit later, after you were sure he was long gone. You said goodbye to the nice lady in the reception and went home.

☪ ☪ ☪ ☪ ☪

Later that week, you were alone having dinner in a bar and he appeared.

"I don't know you, you're new here," he said as he nonchalantly sat on your table.

"Do you know everyone in this town?" you asked him. 

He sighed. That wasn't the answer he was waiting for.

"I do, actually," he said. 

The waitress silently approached and left him a glass full of something.

"Welcome, Benimaru-san. If there's something else you need you can tell us, the house invites you today," she said and walked away.

"Benimaru-san, nice to meet you," you said, playing fool. You knew who he was.

"And you are…?"

"New in town. I really like Asakusa," you smiled. His face looked more irritated than just a minute before. "You can call me y/n."

"No last name, uh?" he chugged the drink the girl left for him.

"I got rid of it," you said. And that was true.

"That's not a lot of information."

"You'll have to buy me a drink and I'll tell you more about me," you winked at him.

He clicked his tongue and you laughed.

“Just don’t cause troubles in my town,” he said and left.

“I’ll try!” you said as he walked out.

All the people at the bar were looking at you but you didn’t care, you had fun and he came to you.

☪ ☪ ☪ ☪ ☪

Would it be worth it to cause some trouble just to see his pissed face again? As you were thinking of some options for “trouble” you went to the thermal house again. And he was there.

“You again?” he said without even opening his eyes.

“It’s a small town,” you casually said.

“Are you following me?”

“Says the guy who showed up on my table out of nowhere,” you answered as you rushed to get into the hot water.

He remained silent again. It was the same as the last time, you sitting in front of him under the moonlight in a comfortable silence.

Even if you were comfortable, you were itching to bug him some more. Still, you just chose to keep your mouth closed. You rested your back on the rocks behind you and found a comfortable position to rest your head too, so you had to do the minimum effort to hold your body. You opened your eyes again when you heard Benimaru getting out of water, you felt drowsy and rubbed your eyes to force yourself to be fully conscious again.

"Don't drown here, this is my favorite place," he said as he walked away.

You looked at him and were about to give some sarcastic answer but then you saw his bare back and his ass and ate your words.

Holy Sol, that body. It had to be illegal to be so built and so handsome.

Before you fell asleep in the water again you got up and left too.

☪ ☪ ☪ ☪ ☪

"So you did cause trouble."

Same bar, same table, same man appearing out of nowhere in front of you. You huffed.

"I defended myself," you explained.

"That's why you beated up some guy?"

"If someone fights me I'll fight back," you explained.

"Which company sent you here?" Benimaru asked.

You laughed out loud.

"I'm not a fire force member."

"You have powers. The Holy Sol Temple sent you here?" he insisted.

"I left the Temple a long time ago," you smiled.

He stared at you, you supposed he was processing the information you just gave him.

"Well, have a nice day, Captain. I might see you later," you said and left him there.

☪ ☪ ☪ ☪ ☪

That night you were the first one in the thermal house. It was weird to be there without Benimaru's big chest in front of you, distracting you from the beautiful full moon that shone over your heads. You positioned yourself again in that way that let you just be sitting without any effort and closed your eyes.

"You again?" you said when you felt the water moving. You knew it was Benimaru.

"This is my town," he answered, ignoring your teasing.

"Right, I'm sorry, your highness."

He clicked his tongue. He thought about what Konro said earlier. Maybe she just wants to provoke you, Waka.

"Are you trying to provoke me?" he inquired.

"Who knows," you smiled.

"I wanna know," he said and closed a little the distance between your bodies.

"I told you you had to take me out first if you wanna know more about me," you licked your lips.

"I could just make you tell me in some other way," he threatened.

"Maybe if you fuck my brains out…" you battled your eyelashes as sweetly and innocently as you could.

He was over you the next second, his hand pulling your hair and making you throw your head back. His body felt warm against yours, even inside the hot water.

"I know you want it too, Captain~" you chirped. "Just stop thinking for a second and let your body take control…"

Yes, he did want it. It was weird to find someone that didn't fear him or admire him as if he was a royalty member. Then you appeared and you gave him all these contradictory signals. It was frustrating. He wanted to erase that cocky smile from your glossy lips… 

He kissed you. His mouth was demanding and the hand holding your hair guided your movements at will. You locked your legs around his hips, holding him close to you, and tangled your hands on his long hair. His hands went underwater to squeeze your ass and thighs and you moaned inside his mouth. You felt his leg under your body next and with little effort he walked out of the water with you clinging to him. He walked to the changing room and let you down over the bench that was there. You were about to sit and take his erection on your mouth but he pushed you back down.

"Who told you you could move?" he asked. The answer was implied in his voice. The atmosphere changed, he was in control now. Your teasing wouldn't affect him anymore. You rubbed your thighs in expectation.

You observed him as he slowly walked to close the doors -the one that gave you access to the reception and the back door you just crossed- and then he kneeled between your legs. The fact that you two were already naked saved some time.

He started circling your clit with his still wet fingers. You started whimpering after a minute, his calloused hand was doing wonders on your body. He pushed his middle finger inside you and kept rubbing your clit with his thumb. He moved his finger in circles inside you, enjoying your moans and your walls clenching his digit. He added his point finger in and sucked your clit on his mouth one time after another until you were almost screaming.

"Fuck, that feels so good," you whined.

If he just moved his fingers a bit faster you would…

He stopped and pulled his fingers out to stand up. When you looked at him he took his fingers to his mouth and sucked your juices from them slowly and pumped his dick with his other hand, putting on a show for you.

"Suck," he said as he pushed his fingers with precum on your mouth.

You obliged. You hollowed your cheeks and suck his fingers, moving your tongue around so you cleaned them perfectly.

"You'll have to do much better than this if you wanna cum," he said like he was disappointed.

He was over you kissing you again, his tongue took your breath away. You could feel his dick against your belly, it was so hot and leaking a bit. Your mouth watered at the thought of having it on your mouth. Subconsciously your hand moved to grab his dick but he stopped you.

"It seems you don't understand you can't move unless I say so," he said. He took a belt from a bathrobe and tied your hands together with it. You whined at the restriction and pouted at him.

"Bad girls don't deserve a nice treatment," he said. "And you're a bad girl."

"I'll do better next time," you said with a pout still on your mouth.

He pulled from the belt to make you sit. Your mouth was an inch away from his cock but you stood still. You had to be a good girl.

"Suck me off," he ordered.

It was almost a relief to have his dick on your mouth. You felt the bitterness of precum at the end of your throat and the salty taste of the waters you were in minutes ago. You could barely fit it in -it was logical that such a big man had a big dick- but you still tried. You bobbed your head back and forward and twirled your tongue around his length. He cupped your breasts and pinched your nipples, your muffled moans caused a nice tickling sensation on his penis.

"This is what it takes for you to shut up, uh?" he thrusted into your mouth a few times, going deeper each time.

He growled when he pushed just a bit further than the back of your throat. You resisted your gag reflex and deepthroated him as tiny tears formed in the corner of your eyes. It wasn't unpleasant, it felt good and despite his size he was being careful, which only added to your overwhelming sensation of arousal.

You needed some kind of relief. You needed to be touched or to have Benimaru inside you, but considering his dick was still on your mouth that wasn't an option. So you touched yourself, lucky you had your hands tied in front of your body. It didn't take long for him to realize and take a step back. He sighed and looked down to you, his long hair covering most of his face. You froze as soon as he looked at you.

"On your hands and knees," he whispered.

You obeyed and smiled to yourself at his bored tone. Because his eyes were lit up, he was having fun.

You positioned yourself as you could in the little bench and waited. His big hand was over your ass just rubbing it and squeezing. Then he raised his hand and slapped you.

"Fuck," you moaned.

"I thought you would be able to take orders given your past," he said as he rubbed your skin again. "I guess not."

He slapped your ass again and you moaned. He used one hand to rub your abused skin and the other to tease your entrance. You cried at his touch, your walls were clamping around nothing.

"Ple-please," you cried when he slapped you again.

His fingers were on your clit now, circling it and his thumb was going up and down on your pussy but not inside.

"Do you think you're in position to ask something, you slut?" he bent down to talk to your ear and you got chills.

He slapped your ass again and he could see his palm marked on your skin on a little prominence. He used his fingers again to stretch your pussy and you moaned, his fingers felt good but you weren't full, you needed more.

"More, please," you asked for it. You could talk now that you didn't have his huge dick on your mouth.

He made you turn around again so he could look at your face as he finally gave you what you wanted: his dick inside you. Your face and moans were a mixture between pleasure and relief. And he was having fun. Real fun and enjoyment, not like other times he met someone to satisfy his needs.

He felt your legs trembling and your hips were moving frantically, not matching his movements anymore. So he stopped. You whined and wiggle your hips to get him to move again.

"If you don't stay still I'll walk out through that door right now," he warned.

You sighed, tears threatened to fall from your eyes again. He traced patterns on your thighs with his fingers and observed how you put your tied hands over your eyes. It was taking all of your will to not move. He was stretching you so nicely, you swear you could even feel the shape of his veins on your walls, you felt full and almost satisfied. When he no longer felt the insistent clenching of your walls on his dick, he bent down and took one of your nipples on his mouth. You cursed out loud when he took your bud gently between his teeth. You never expected a tough man like him to be so gentle. Your climax was gone again but it wouldn't take much to build it back up. Benimaru put his mouth to work on your other nipple and gave a gentle thrust that caused you to moan again. How could he stay still being balls deep into you? How could he resist the urge to just chase his climax?

He thrusted again and you felt tight, like your pussy was accustomed to him not moving. It felt good, you fit on him like a glove, just like the right amount of pressure to not fall off. He circled your clit with his fingers again and you locked your legs embracing his hips again to have him deeper inside. He kissed you again and put his arm around your waist to hold you up against him and then your back hit a wall. You throw your hands behind his head to use his shoulders for support and adjust your hold on his hips before he started to thrust again. But this time he wasn't so gentle. He was going fast and strong, his tip touched your g spot every few times and you bit his neck to muffle your moans.

"It will take more than that to mark me," he said in an arrogant tone.

You huffed. You would be all marked up tomorrow with shapes of fingers and hands: on your waist, on your thighs, your ass. You heated your wrists enough to burn the belt restricting your movements and scratched his back with force. Your walls clenched when you heard him growl. That much will do to mark him, so you'll do it again.

His thrusts were reckless and he changed his angle from time to time. He held your waist with one arm and the other was on your leg, spreading it apart for him to get liberty with his movements.

"I'm so so close," you cried in his ear.

He knew it, he could feel it. His dick was being pressed hard in your pussy and it felt better than ever. It wouldn't take much for him to cum either. He kneeled and let your body down on the floor in front of him to take your legs and put in on his shoulders so he could thrust in a different position. Your back arched out of sheer pleasure and you moaned his name again. You couldn’t even warn him that you were on your climax before it happened, you just took his arm and scratched him even harder than before. Fucks and oh-s left your mouth each time his dick rubbed your cervix. You notice he was slowing down and you knew what he was thinking.

“Fill me up,” you said in a lustful voice. “Fill me up, please,” you used your heels to push him back to you.

He didn’t doubt anymore. He was back with his merciless thrusts, balls deep into you again. His dick was a bit harder to take after your orgasm but you couldn’t complain. You just wanted him to cum inside you and you even might be able to cum again just from the thought of if it. He found an angle in which both were moaning and he kept going strong. Your legs were trembling again and he felt tiredness on his muscles too. So he buried his cock on you a few more times and the little hold he had on his body snapped. He cummed inside you and you had another orgasm when you felt his semen filling you up.

After a minute he pulled out and collapsed by your side, both of you were struggling to catch your breath. You could just fall asleep there, or maybe in the warm water? As you weighed your options, Benimaru got up and walked outside and back. He kneeled by your side and cleaned you up.

"Oh, aren't you a gentleman?" you teased him. But you were grateful he wasn't a jerk as he looked he could be.

"Shut up," he said.

He cleaned himself and got dressed. You heard him talk with the old lady manager, asking for water and something to eat.

"There's a private room, you can stay here tonight if you're tired," he said as he observed you get dressed.

"Will you stay with me?" you smiled.

"Who knows," he answered and left.

You followed him to the private room where he was already sitting and eating. You took a seat in front of him and ate too. With a bit of teasing and other bit of luck maybe you could get a second round.

☪ ☪ ☪ ☪ ☪