#ok so i lied shes still here. i thought she was dead

[purralyth]

[fardf150]

fuck

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Immortal (Ghost x Medic!Reader Pt. 3)

"The path to paradise begins in hell."

— Dante Alighieri

Word count: 5.5 k

Summary: He knows now why he always returns to her. It's because he was injured. Badly, severely, life-threateningly injured – no, he was already deceased. What kind of a medic has the power to resurrect the dead? (Last part of Ghost stories.)

Tags/warnings: 18+ only. Angst, fluff, smut. Protective!Simon Ghost Riley. Graphic depictions of PTSD, suicidal thoughts and depression, mild violence. Emotional sex, love confessions, happy ending. Ghost POV.

"You can't come here, lieutenant. Not unless you're injured."

No one has ever scolded him.

He's the one who whips people into shape, who makes them recall who and where they are, that Task Force 141 is no place for fuckery. Now he's the one being reminded of his place. 

Somehow it's ok to bring her flowers before dinner, but ever since he started to bring her coffee to get an excuse to see her at work, she began to shut down. He can fuck her doggy style at her place, but if he so much as lifts his mask to kiss the back of her neck at her office, she bats him away like an annoying fly.

And he's fucking confused.

He thought he was doing the right thing. He thought that women like to be courted. Now he's standing in the middle of her apartment, waiting for… he doesn't even know what. Pardon, perhaps.

"Why do you always call me lieutenant?"

"Well I can't call you Simon at work, can I?"

She's chaste and decent. Has been like that for a while now, retreating back to her role of a distant professional. 

Something's troubling her, and he tries to get to the bottom of it. Tries his best to cheer her up, even if it's absurd that someone like him attempts to do that.

"Y'could use the alias."

"I'm not going to call you that."

She reads Virgil while making it clear that he's quite ridiculous. A ghost. It must remind her of a children's book rather than something stealthy and fatal; to her, it's a grown man's sad attempt to play a superhero.

"Did you come up with the name yourself?" Her voice has a whiff of irony as she finally spares him a glance from her hard-cover poetry.

"...No," he lies, too soon. Far too soon. She catches him on it, pants down.

"You're a silly, silly man." She shakes her head slowly and returns to her book. Last week, it was Dante who had better things to offer, far better things compared to him – such as a more poetic depiction of hell.

But even with the distant aura he can't quite pierce, she gives him a concept of what it would be like to have a home. A real home where you don't have to dread the evening and everything it brings out in people. Even when he was doing the SAS Fan Dance and lying on the cold ground to have a compulsory 2-hour shut-eye, he never missed home. The weather-beaten trail and a flapping tarp were still a cosier place than the one he'd left behind. 

The closest thing to an actual home was always solitude. A few days without routine. A cold shower in the morning to wake him, but not frigid enough to kill the erection. A good, unhurried fap and some stale spit circling down the drain. No one giving him a pitiful eye for tossing old takeaway in the bin and opening the cupboard only to be met with some canned food and table salt.

Now, the first thing in the morning is the sensation of her. Fingertips sneaking their way under his arm and ghosting his stomach, stirring him so softly he doesn't quite know if he's gone to heaven. Home is a sleepy nest and slow kisses followed by the sounds of brewing coffee. Home has become a place of mundane tasks: helping her water the plants and tasting whether the vanilla pudding she made has enough sugar. Changing sheets together, listening to the fitful sea as it breaks upon the shore. Watching how she reads of the Trojan War.

When he just stands there, admiring how her manicured nails glide over the pages, she talks to him again without raising her lashes from the book. 

"Did you need something?"

…You. All of you. 

Now and forever.

"Ya wanna go out to eat tonight?"

Finally, he grabs her attention. The distance between them is sewn up so fast even a jerk like him can understand he finally made the right fucking move.

"What about your… The mask?"

He shrugs.

"I thought you liked my cooking," she gives him a smile. Sly… Foxy.

"I do. But let me feed you for a change."

He sees in that stare and the way she purses her lips that she's trying to prevent a dirty joke from coming out of her pretty little mouth. As much as he appreciates that little cunning look, as much as he loves when that mouth gets a little dirty, he's more than serious now.

"Come on. Let me take you out."

"Well. If you insist," she smiles, shuts the book, and flies to her closet to pull out a stunner of a dress.

…..…..…..

Her fingertips always make his cock stir. They were supposed to go to sleep – a rare thing, to not slip inside her after a nice lil evening. To his surprise she starts to trace the few hairs on his stomach, threading through them as they thicken below. 

He can feel how she gets tense upon seeing that he's hard and heavy before she even reaches there. But she's not tense from anticipation.

"I overheard some of the guys talking about us. Or, well, me."

His cock gives a tug, and she still doesn't touch it.

"How I'm your luxury whore."

The curtain shifts as the wind plays with it: softly, while he's ripped out of the dark safety of the womb.

"Luxury…" She laughs, but it's bitter and thick. "Isn't it funny?"

He's hard now mainly because of the fury that rises. It ripples through his chest and pulls his stomach taut.

"Was it the rookie?"

He hears his voice from far away, from under the sea, but luckily, her hand brings him back. It's placed on him again, this time further up. She likes to trace the cavity between his pecs, pet the hair she finds there, too. Sometimes, she buries her face there and inhales his sweat, then uses that spot as her pillow. It's that very moment when he finds peace if he already hasn't by then.

"You don't have to defend my honour," the night speaks softly.

So, it was the rookie.

Nothing but a boy, younger than Soap and cockier than he was when he left Manchester with nothing but a duffel bag on his shoulder. Nothing but a boy, and she knows how boys are. She knows how boys talk. She wouldn't be in the Force if she took filthy quips seriously. 

But this is fucking different. The fantasies of what he'll do to the fucker when he gets back get sicker and more beautiful by the second.

"Just… don't come there anymore unless you're injured. Ok?"

He can't hear her because the vile word overrides even the gorgeous visions of torture. It gathers up his throat as bile, and he barely has time to take a deep breath to force it down before it's too late.

"I'm gonna go take a shower." 

"At this hour…?"

"Can't sleep anyway."

He reaches the bathroom just in time before the vomit flies. The power of it forces him on his knees, forces him to take hold of the door frame. Everything he fed to her shoots up, like it was only a dream that he could make her happy.

…Are you just here for sex?

Her shy question echoes from the tiles as another retch pulls the rest of his love out. 

He's sweating worse than the time they had to operate him in the field, back when a bullet had worked its way through the naked spot between the straps of his plate carrier. The shower washes some of it away, but the stench stays, the foul word and the insolence, all the shallow things he has given her coat the insides of his mouth no matter how many times he tries to spit it away. The water only does so much, and she's still not asleep by the time he returns to her. 

The luxury is waiting for him, silky and sweet. 

Wet, even, if he wants.

"Baby… Honey?"

Baby.

Baby.

He feels his guts in his throat again but swallows them down. She's beautiful, even when sad and sorry. Sorry, and for what? For him, instead of herself and what she's been called, the spite she has had to suffer simply for lying down in the filth with him. 

"Are you okay...?"

"Yeah."

He goes to her, pulls her in his arms, and hopes he doesn't smell of puke.

"They're just words. Right?"

I'm more than just your whore, right?

Her hand doesn't shy away from the sweat that breaks through his back. She's not afraid of him, even when he's the monster she never asked for. He can respect that kind of fearlessness. 

"You're awfully quiet," she tries. 

Baby, please don't go berserk, is what he hears.

"Go to sleep, pet," he calls forth his softest voice, relieved to notice it sounds more like a lullaby than a command. He allows her to kiss him, wondering if she can taste the grave. 

"Yes, sir," she breathes a soft smile in his mouth. Then she turns and coats herself with his arm. It must feel heavy around her, but she only gives a happy sigh. "I always sleep better with you. You feel so good… Safe."

He wonders how strange it is that love sometimes feels like pain. Her words come close to a knife slowly being pushed to his insides. They're still burning when she mutters the last essential thing, already half-asleep in his arms.

"They're just words, Simon…"

…..…..…..

He doesn't know much about poetry, but perhaps Dante was right. 

The heart of hell is not a fiery lake of torment but an icy, cold, stagnant place. There's nothing there. Everything is frozen: screams, thoughts, even dreams. 

He's walked through grey rubble and drenched asphalt, through alleyways of havoc and debris, he's trekked through desolate woodland and marsh. He's run through life like it's a day-to-day race to not get killed, but the worst of it isn't the bullets or the cold or the wind or the rain. It's the sleepless nights, the inertia. His soul in chains. On those nights, he wanted to get killed. 

And yet, he's not the only one who has suffered the unfortunate event of being dragged through every plane of hell. He's not the first man to go through the funnel, nor is he the last. It only looks bad in a society where he's supposed to own a credit card and a house. It only tastes like shit when someone asks "How does it make you feel?" 

People like him shouldn't go to therapy at all. His solution was to quit playing a modern man the minute he realized he's no longer fit for that role. He's simply a dead body, reanimated to serve a purpose. He's a sharp tool, a weapon. (A zombie.)

He serves the greater good, but everyone knows the greater good is propaganda too. There's no grand fight between light and darkness. Good and evil only conduct people's choices: even his old man must've thought he was making the world a better place by playing the rebel. He told him he served the Queen just to piss that sodded bastard off, but the truth is he never served anyone. Not even himself.

Now, there's an odd purpose to his task. Now, every cell in his body is full of animus. 

He's an animated corpse, perhaps, but they forgot to bury the wrath.

"Where's the rookie?"

"Getting stapled."

"Where?"

Which room? 

Which fucking room?

He doesn't stay to heed directions. He doesn't need them; his instinct tells him enough. He doesn't even bother to knock, simply barges in, only to see that the boy sits on the bed he used to sit on, in the exact same position as him. And he knows it's not just the blood loss that makes the fucker look so drowsy and smug. 

The fury is pierced with an ice-tinged sword as he sees her gentle touch – she's tending to the wounds of an ungrateful kid with the same compassion she gives to all her patients, and the first thing on his mind is that she would make a good mother.

"What're you doing here?" 

His voice is soaked in ash, but the boy only looks up from the bed with pure, trouble-seeking gall.

"What are you doing here…? Sir."

She's looking at him too. She's pleading with those eyes. Silently, desperately. 

"You can't come here, lieutenant. Not unless you're injured."

Her request only now makes sense as he sees how the boy looks him up and down and sees there's not a scratch on him. There's no reason for him to be here other than to relieve the pain in his loins.

"Well… Have fun," the rookie jumps from the table, and the rage threatens to pull him underwater like a tide. He never needed anything but his voice to stop a man in his tracks. Not size, not rank, not even his reputation, just voice. 

"My office. Five minutes."

The boy dares to give him another foul look.

"Is that all you need? Just five minutes?"

He even detects admiration in that stare – like he's some stallion, a prized old stud who receives fine mares to rut. Like the celestial woman standing behind this… boy is just some slag thrown to him like they threw to gladiators of old. His luxury whore.

The rookie finally catches the impending wrath that must swell and roil like sea inside the sockets of the skull. 

Yes, boy.

Death is coming.

"Sir," the boy swallows with an arduous blob, then walks out of the goddess's domain, finally with some humility upon those shoulders. 

The torture has already begun, and it shoots him full of sweet adrenaline. He tries to mask the rising war from her, but she sees enough just before he leaves her as well. Her words follow him but cannot penetrate the cloak of fury that shrouds him as he goes to prepare for carnage.

"Simon. I just stitched him together..."

…..…..…..

He doesn't solve the problem with a gun or a cock this time. 

He uses his fists and a knife.

It should disgust him; how much he enjoys it. It's one of those rare occasions when he almost loses himself in the riptide of blood. The things he imagines are far worse than what he finally allows himself to do. When the boy has a split lip and half his face swollen so bad he can't even see from the bruise, when the wetness dampens the crotch area and threatens to stain the carpet, he lets him go.

"Get out."

He's a different man when he rises from beside that broken boy; from next to the knife he plunged to the floor an inch away from his face to make his intentions clear. The boy is stripped of all arrogance and probably regrets the day he got the splendid idea to insult a woman. 

He doesn't have to get his hands deep into paperwork to have the rookie transferred; the boy does it for him. He leaves the base quietly as a shadow and with a face that looks like it has been forced through a waffle maker.

After that, everyone salutes him feet away.

His orders are obeyed without question, without a second's delay on missions. He has never pursued to be loved, but neither has he worked on making people fear him. Now he's not only a source of mystery and intrigue but also fear and wonder.

Soap isn't scared quite as shitless as the rest of them, but neither is he as friendly as he used to be. Price says nothing but he gets a few looks that tell him he has gone too far.

"You shouldn't have," she whispers when they're alone, stopping him in the quiet hallway. She's the only one who doesn't have fear and avoidance in her stare. If anything, the adoration in her eyes has deepened.

He has avoided her strictly, this time obeying her request not to go to her unless he has business there. He doesn't defend himself; he doesn't have the luxury to decide what should or shouldn't be done. He's not a saint nor a judge. He is territorial, though.

"You must be the craziest man I've ever met." 

She talks to his shadow as he's standing only a few feet away, unable to touch her.

"Good."

"...and the most incredible."

His sharp intake of air hisses between them as the artificial light casts shadows in electric blue. She tries to thank him for bashing a face in, all her noble Hippocratic Oaths forgotten.

She takes a step – just one, to make it perfectly clear she wants to touch him too.

"You're a brute, Simon."

The woman's eyes are a deep sea of gratitude. He wonders if she's equally as wet between those legs. Her voice says it all: she likes brutes.

The worship in her stare makes him understand why wars have been waged – this is the reason why crusaders sloshed through rivers of crimson blood, why whole civilizations were destroyed. This is why swords are forged and guns are fired. He draws another breath to swear his allegiance, an oath bound in blood.

"No one's gonna call you a–"

She crosses the final breadth of air between them and lifts his mask.

…..…..…..

The waves crash on the shore like clockwork. To him, it's the sound of limbo. 

The sea used to pull him in like a seductive pit, especially at night, during the sleepless shifts when he walked to the beach with nothing but the ghosts of all the people he had lost to keep him company. Watching all the futures and should have been's slowly drowning in the sea. 

Now he’s here with a living being, and the cold, dead sea has turned into blooming fireworks of crimson and coral. The amnesia has turned into bliss; all the treasures lost in the depths suddenly wash up on the shore like a sunken hoard.

She takes her shoes off the minute they reach the shore, then descends the sands with laughter. She could be from a movie or a magazine, gliding through bleached gold with sunbeams in her hair, sandals dangling from the crook of her fingers, heathers kissing her feet as she dives down the path. Her smile eclipses even the setting sun, and for the first time ever, he thinks it might've been a stupid idea to enlist. 

If there’s an opposite to ice and inertia, it's this. 

It's her. 

"You lied to me," she turns around but doesn't stop walking. "You have been to the beach."

She tilts her head as if reprimanding him, but he knows she's just laughing at his expense. She laughs at his name… She laughs at his broodings, she laughs at his shadows and his hubris. 

"Does anyone else know about this place?"

"No."

There's no soul out here but theirs; even the seagulls have withdrawn to rest. She stops to admire the sun, features turning soft as she takes in her counterpart. Apparently, she likes his humble tribute, the scarcity he has to offer. Some hollow bones, his opinion of a beach. Emptiness… A day coming to an end.

"I have no words for this."

"It's just a beach," he offers, and swallows when she turns. When the fuck has he ever felt embarrassed? His mask is gone, so she can see him swallow again as she approaches. It's the strangest thing how she can still cause his heart to hammer in his chest. He's used to stepping into a hail of bullets, driving a truck through a wall, waiting for that last unaware step to lunge forth and slit a man's throat. The organ never wailed then.

Her eyes take in his every flaw and scar, the rotten work on his skin before she wraps her hands around his neck. 

"No. No it's not. This is paradise."

She has to rise on her toes to kiss him, and he's glad he got rid of the mask. There's nothing between him and the taste of summer anymore – she reminds him of some bright tropical drink, something pure and sweet and innocent, pure fucking fun, something he has come to understand and define only through movies and tv. 

And he knows now why he always comes back to her. It's because he was injured. Badly, severely, life-threateningly injured – no, he was already deceased.  

She has introduced him back to the world: the sun, the birdsong, the simple, good life. How it feels like to have curtains, or bake just because it's Thursday, or walk barefoot on the beach in order to feel the burning sand on your skin. 

What kind of a medic has the power to resurrect the dead?

"Simon," she shivers into his mouth. "I'm sorry. I didn't want people to think that… That we're just…"

"Pet. I know."

"They said you didn't trouble yourself with relationships."

Years of instinct and training make his spine tingle. He's holding another future in his arms and hopes it's not possible for a sea to swallow a sun.

"They?"

"Well, John. Captain." 

Her lashes hide what's going through her mind, but he can tell she's feeling shy from the way she shifts in his embrace.

"I asked about you. In spring. If there's someone… waiting for you."

He wrestles down a bitter laugh. The only lover ever waiting for him was nothingness in that chair; the only wife he came home to was shades, shadows, and dust. 

But he's starting to understand what she's trying to say. How, without even thinking about it, he just made the strongest possible declaration of not being here just for sex. He couldn't have sent a louder message with that boy.

Because not only Jonathan Price know that she's his. Soap knows too. Gaz knows too. Everyone working in Task Force 141 knows, even the fucking scrubbers and accountants know what's going on. Everyone knows that Ghost is real, and alive, and troubles himself with a relationship.

"I dreamed of you, you know." Her lashes flutter open, and he's met with the perfect example of total surrender. She's more than happy with the outcome, and why the hell shouldn't she be? Actions speak louder than words. He of all people should know that.

"Love–"

"Do you remember the day I found out you were a smoker?"

"...Sure."

She laughs, taking him back to the odd meeting in the yard when she was prying her suffocating latex gloves off, and he was trying to find some solace in a cigarette because he couldn't have her. 

"I was so angry at you. Playing with death at every turn..." 

"Yeah. Not the perfect man."

"But you were. You are." 

"Pet. If someone's perfect, it's you."

"No… I'm a hypocrite. I wanted you to just–just take me against the wall. After your stupid smoke."

He always wondered if she was suffocating too. In her gloves, in her beauty, in her sterile, medical, professional chasteness.

But he had no fucking clue that she–

"Or during, I don't care…"

Even the thought of her wanting him to tear apart her facades shatters the last sane thought in his head. He has tried to be civil, tried to suffocate the longing, but apparently, he doesn't have to. The image of burying himself inside her cunt while taking a drag from the thing she despises even more than his name or his mask or his guns is too fucking much. The fact that she views a dog like him as a perfect man makes his cock answer her call like a good, stout soldier. 

"Is that so?"

She stops breathing for a moment as he takes a drag from her now. She's raw whiskey straight to an empty stomach, the way his mind goes blank from sliding his mouth over the column of her throat. She tastes of sea there, and it's not pulling him in; it's pulling him under. The open-mouthed kisses make her jolt, he even draws out a moan or two; they swell between his legs. 

"You like that…?"

She answers to him with a soft whine. A soft nib of her ear, and her hips reply with a roll. The woman tries to latch onto him by gripping his shirt, threatening to do permanent damage to the fabric.

"No walls here, pet. Gotta take you on the sand," he gruffs in her ear, cock hard and ready from her tight little breaths. He could bet half his money that she's wetter than November down there. He could drag his cockhead across her cunt and the sound would be divine. 

"Simon–"

"I'll light a cig first."

"Stop teasing," she laughs, voice thick with hunger.

"...Roger that."

His hand is on his belt before he knows it. It's pathetic how much patience he has if he needs to crouch in a downpour and wait for a kill, but at the sight and smell and taste of her, he can't stop himself from wrenching his belt and pants open like a starved dog. It's a rush born of fear - that any time could be the last time.

She seems to shiver from his stare only when she lays herself upon the warm sand, naked as can be. She's like a vision on that beach: leaning on her elbows, thighs slowly parting, revealing the glistening sex between her legs. And she's fucking dripping, like an overripe peach. He could've safely bet all his money on her.

"How do you want me?"

Fucking fuck… 

He's walking in a dream: the most beautiful woman in the world is lying naked before his feet, bathing in gold, asking how he would prefer to take her. He doesn't even bother to get out of his clothes; he merely tugs his pants down and crawls between her legs, relishing the tight gasp he gets from being so crude.

Her eyes grow wide at the sight of him there, so close to her core, cock hanging heavy just an inch away from that tight cunt. She tries so hard to look composed while lying under his shadow, to not make it obvious that she wants that ugly thing inside. And it does feel like sin not to spread those legs and plough right in, especially when his fingers meet her silk and find that she's already throbbing.

"Want you just like this, pet," he rasps while dragging the pad of his thumb around her clit. Her back arches on the sand, forcing his fingers deeper into the dripping fruit.

It's different, her wetness; not thick and halfway there, but flowing, leaking, soaking good. The pussy is so glazed that he slips at the first attempt to slide a finger in. Her walls grip him the second he's seated deep, making it known how much she appreciates it that he's not here just for sex. 

"Someone's greedy," he's breathing rough, and she whines – he only gets to two fingers before she demands him to fuck her already.

"Want your–I need your cock…" 

She's begging, poor thing, almost crying on the sand, and he has no fucking choice but to remove his fingers and grab his cock instead.

"Have to go slow, love."

"Riley–for god's sake, now."

"F' fuck's sake…" He stumbles forward, all but gracefully, forces the tip on her soaked cunt as delicately as he can before pushing right in. She cries from the spread, fingers curling in the sand: a futile attempt to take him in without fainting.

"Tried to warn ya–"

"Don't you dare stop," she gasps, eyes full of love. As always, her wish is his command, and the tightness makes it an endless journey to bliss. The basest parts of him think about dying – having a heart attack on the same beach he almost drowned in, about ceasing to exist just for the sake of knowing that nothing is as good as this. 

He's deep as can fucking be, and it's still not enough – it's never enough. He collects her in his arms with a frustrated grunt, cock giving a tight pull only when she's finally safe and snug in his embrace. It's a tight cuddle that leaves them both breathless.

"Hold me tighter..." 

It's a soft order, but he can't get any closer: chest plastered on her skin and balls pressed against her ass, the sand grinding against her back as he makes love to her. She’s not made of twigs, but he’s far bigger than her, already threatening to crush her with his weight.

"Tighter…" she begs on his lips, tries to pull him closer with her whole being.

"Pet, I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't," she sings, completely shieldless. Something warns him of danger, a reset far worse than drowning or being buried alive or shooting himself in a lonely apartment. He tries to calm her down with a kiss: he knows she loves kisses - but there are tears in her eyes, and his heart is hammering, hammering… 

"Simon, do you love me…?"

She asks that question right on his lips, and the first thing in his dog mind is that it's a stupid thing to ask when he's balls deep inside her and still trying to get closer.

"Yeah," he almost chokes on it, knowing it could be their wedding day and he would still choke on it because it doesn't taste like salt or metal or grave.

"I love you," she whispers. "Do you understand?"

No. No…

I fuckin' don't–

"And I'll always be here for you."

To his shock, there’s no sea water in his lungs, no dirt in his mouth. He’s not choking on anything, he's not in fact dying at all: he’s floating, somewhere between the sun and the sand and the sea. There's no more rush, no jaws of death snapping at his heels. He doesn't even long for heaven anymore. Not when there's a paradise on earth.

"Love, I need you to–need you to focus," he tries to stutter nonsense while she's pledging herself to him. Of course she only laughs at him: it hits him with the sweetest warmth.

"You're so silly…" 

"Yeah? I know." 

He's laughing too. It's just a few notes that get taken away by the sound of waves. It's just a breath from deep within, and still… Her gaze drops to his mouth, a flutter blinks back more tears.

"I love it when you laugh..." Her eyes shine brighter than the sun, riding the spine of the sea as one perfect tear rolls down her cheek. "Love it…"

The sun sets in tangerine, his new favourite colour. There's a whole bloom out there in the sky when she comes, fast and bright in his embrace. He comes right after, just from trying to stay inside her warmth, deep inside her, around her, and she says it, again and again and again… Until he breathes.

….….….

"Remember when I said I could've managed? Without you," she asks when they lie on the sand, skin on skin, watching the sun set beneath the onyx sea. The waves rise and break, but around them, the air is still. He's still inside her as she pulls his hand over her heart, entwining their fingers together: it's the softest little arrest, but her squeeze doesn't lack strength. 

"I lied too."

"I know."

She chuckles softly. "Is there something you don't know?"

"...Yeah. Why you're here out of all places."

She turns her head from the sunset into the falling darkness of him, and he wonders if that's why she's here... To be with his night. She said that people always get the dark wrong: that it's not supposed to be scary at all. That the purpose of darkness is safety, security, that there are tales where the day chases the night, and the night chases the day. She said it's because they're in love with each other.

"You really don't know…?" 

"You were smiling before we met and now you're crying all the time."

She looks up at him with trust and devotion, his daylight, his sun. There's none in the sky anymore, but it doesn't matter. It lives in her eyes.

"People cry from happiness too, Simon."

[thetrashqueeeen]

the hunger games is having a resurgence and i’m back on my bullshit so i thought i would post what i always imagined the rest of effie’s life looked like

she stays in the capitol to begin with. katniss was shocked when she saw them kiss, but was hastily shut up by haymitch when she teased him and they never really spoke about effie much after that. effie called haymitch once a week, filling him in on the rebuilding efforts, her rapidly blooming social life, new fashion trends, inter-district moving and the latest in geese rearing tips(i’m a goose apologist here he keeps geese ok). he can tell something is off but he doesn’t realise how much of it is outright lies

effie wakes in the mornings screaming, the pain of whatever torture she was reliving rapidly dissolving as her bedroom sharpened into focus. She rarely leaves her apartment. she watches them rebuild from her window, her heart racing when unexpected bangs and crashes come from construction sites. she gets up later and later each day, sometimes not bothering to get out of bed at all. when she can’t face the nightmares, she goes to the roof of her building and screams off the edge until her voice is hoarse. she tells haymitch that she’s been out partying when she calls. her neighbourhood gets a reputation for being haunted, people say you can still hear the rebels screaming at night. her old friends are mostly dead and the ones that aren’t can’t face the memory of her as much as she can’t face the memory of them. they do try for a while, pretending that everything is fine for as long as they can ignore the frenzied fear right under the surface. the cocoon her life has become feels suffocating but ultimately comforting. she tells herself she’s fine, that this is fine. she doesn’t know why she lies to him when she calls.

she lasts a year. one afternoon, she’s on the phone with haymitch and he’s telling her about katniss and peeta. they’ve just gotten engaged for real and he’s chattering on about them in the way he does when he lets his guard down. his voice is so comforting and so nice and so homely that her heart clenches and her hand grips the phone so tightly the plastic nearly buckles in her grip. she closes her eyes so the only thing entering her brain is his voice. when they get off the phone she throws her favourite things into a suitcase, showers and gets dressed in actual clothes for the first time all week and walks to the train station before she can think about it too hard. the days she spends on the train pass quickly and she steps onto the platform at 12 in the middle of a deluge. she trudges over to victors village, her suitcase clattering over muddy paving stones. she steps into the square of victors village in the pouring rain, looking sullen, tired and thinner than when anyone last saw her. she’s filled with sudden unease, and stands still, not sure she has the nerve to go and bash on his door. she feels much too old for this, much to old to run away from her life without telling anyone, for a man who didn’t even invite her. she’s freezing. peeta notices her and goes to invite her in, but katniss stops him, seeing haymitch has set out to meet her in the square. as he gets closer he notices she looks like shit. she’s not dressed for the rain and her clothes cling to her depressingly, her hair is plastered to her face and she looks about as tired as he feels. she’s stood with her arms crossed tightly, looking like she might cry. he wraps his arms around her cold, sodden frame and it takes her a second, but she wriggles her arms out from between them and wraps her arms around his neck, stepping closer. they might be too old for this, but she can’t deny this is better than whatever she was doing before. he doesn’t kiss her there; it still feels too alien to not hide.

the next morning, effie pulls one of haymitch’s porch chairs to the edge of the veranda and basks in the rising sun, allowing it to warm her all the way through. he comes out with coffee an hour or so later, remembering she missed it in 13. peeta comes over to say hello and effie finally feels her heart slow down.

she gets used to the rhythms of 12. she did worry that too much time had passed for them, but they fall back together as they’re meant to. they bicker and debate through barely suppressed smiles and finally offer the overt support the other has always needed. when haymitch gets up to feed the geese at first light, he leaves her in bed alone and she rolls into the warm spot he leaves. he makes her coffee when he’s done and says it’s because he’d never hear the end of it if he didn’t. in reality he just can’t imagine not getting to see her lift her bleary head off the pillow, her blonde hair mused and her eyes flickering open. her hair is one of the things he loves the most. he teases her about her ‘lotions and potions’ but he spends hours running his hands through her hay-coloured waves. she lets it grow down to her shoulders for the first time since her baby hair was chopped off for wigs. she starts growing produce in the back garden. the first time katniss sees her, hair tied back with a patterned scarf, wearing dungarees and chunky boots, she laughs out loud so hard that effie’s in a huff with her for a whole week. she offers an apology only because her wedding simply will not happen without effie planning it.

one day, she gets up as soon as she hears haymitch go out the back door in the morning. she dresses in a baggy t-shirt and bright dungarees (she tries her best not to link the bright dungarees that being her so much joy to grey jumpsuits) and makes coffee for them both. he startles when he finds her at the kitchen table, but she just asks him if he knew she had a degree from capitol university. he didn’t. she tells him she wants to teach children in the school house and expects him to laugh. he does a little bit, but then tells he she’ll be fantastic and admired her as she marched out the door to go and talk to the head teacher. they start her out easy, but the children adore her funny accent, soft hair and bright clothes. she adores them all right back. effie has a gaggle of small children running around her for all of the wedding and katniss looks over her the entire day, smiling at her and haymitch playing with them all. peeta had been slowly beginning to raise the idea of a family, but katniss had been shutting it down forcibly every time. she walks over to peeta at the reception and draws his attention to the large game of tag effie was participating in. as haymitch starts hefting kids over his shoulder shouting ‘the monster’s coming’ katniss tells him she wants their first daughter to be called primrose, not prim- never prim, but primrose. they’ll be great surrogate grandparents, she tells him.

effie adores little Finnick from the moment he’s born. haymitch also adores the baby, but is much less willing to show it. katniss pretends to not notice he still shakes sometimes and he pretends he doesn’t only hold him when he’s sat down. a few years later, finnick is joined by primrose who is just as beautiful as her namesake. as soon as finnick is old enough to go to school, effie insists on teaching his class every year. once primrose is old enough she trades off each year, trying (and failing) to pretend they’re not her favourite. finnick trains as a carpenter and every time effie so much as mentions something that needs fixing in the house finnick is there with a toolbox and his father’s smile. primrose grows up in awe of her big brother, the boy who calls her pipsqueak, shared every glass of orange juice he’s ever drunk with her and copies her maths homework every days she can remember. when he starts his own business, she starts to keep his accounts. it’s the summer she turns 15. she carries on absorbing knowledge like a sponge, retaining every fact, theorem and topic effie gifts her with. effie is the first person she tells when she applies for a scholarship at capitol university. her mother is the first person she tells when she gets it. katniss cries soft, bittersweet tears when primrose tells her she’s going to study medicine at the big university in the capitol. effie hugs her so hard on the platform as she gets the train that she thinks she might snap. katniss is so happy that her children are no longer the children of the last victors. they are the carpenter and the doctor. they have never once chopped their dreams off at the knees just in case they get reaped. katniss and peeta cry at her loss, sure she will only return to visit. finnick and effie do not cry, they know she’s coming back. she comes back with a woman in tow, but she comes back none the less. effie plans her marriage to the woman they come to know as Evie. finnick gets married just a year after they do, and he and his wife have so many children, haymitch jokes they should start a football team.

effie and haymitch don’t get anywhere near as long as they deserve, but they do get 25 good years. haymitch is older than she is, and his body has been through a lot. when she pleads with him to go to the capitol for treatment, he begs her to understand why he can never go back there, and she finds she does. he passes in his own bed, with his wife laying next to him, stroking his hair with quiet reverence. the last thing he hears is her whispering quietly that she loves him more than anything. that she would go through all of it again for just one more day.

when haymitch is gone, effie retires from the school house and spends as much time as she can with katniss, peeta, finnick, primrose and their various broods. she fully expects to die of a broken heart, she considers it only right. she thinks often of the tired, scared woman who stood in the rain waiting for him. she does not die of a broken heart, much to her annoyance. she doesn’t even grow much weaker with age. she keeps the geese until the last one dies and never stops growing food in her garden. one hot day in summer, the whole family go down to the meadow to bask in the heat and watch the children play. ‘this is the life a victor deserves’ she tells katniss as they watch finnick and primrose play with the children. she lays down in the sun to have a nap, resting her head on katniss’s lap. she hears the children screech with laughter, she feels the warm sun on her skin and she passes quickly, her last breathe quiet and unnoticed. haymitch is waiting for her when she gets there.

[barblaz-arts]

Ok I lied, one more Hazbin character ask.🙏

Thoughts on Lucifer, Carmilla, Rosie, and Adam?

Lucifer

I love love love him. Terrible dad tho! Lmfaoo

Genuinely think Charlie let him off the hook too easy for all the neglect imo. It's kinda weird how most of the fandom suddenly thinks he's a great dad. He's okay at best, tbh. Just because he has a gorgeous singing voice(Jeremy Jordan is the fuckin BEST man) and a silly personality doesn't mean everything's swell. I hope the second season further tackles this. I remember someone saying before that Lucifer resembled a dad who accidentally had a baby as a teen and doesn't actually know how to be a father and I haven't forgotten about how accurate that is. Still tho! Great character! I'm not even exactly mad about him being popular, just a little bothered by how he's viewed by most people. I hope the show has him do more than sing a musical number to EARN Charlie's forgiveness

Carmilla

I love her, even if the way her character is written is a little, um, how do I say it? Weird? Doesn't make sense sometimes.

Like how she's a demon Overlord who sells weapons but has a line that goes "I always thought that I would keep blood off my face". So does that mean she's never killed anyone before? Or maybe she swore off killing at some point? If she's only ever taken a life to protect her daughters, what sin did she commit to get her to end up in Hell, with her daughters no less. I have my speculations, but with how little we know about her, speculations don't change the fact that Carmilla is a strangely written character. She has some moments that are just questionable choices from the writers too. Like, how they had Carmilla point out how obvious Vaggie's nature is, making Charlie's feelings of betrayal look a little stupid on Charlie's part. Or how Carmilla sang to Vaggie that she should focus on love and not revenge, even though all Vaggie has ever thought about is protecting Charlie while never showing any signs of even thinking about getting back at Lute. Such a strange character. I hope she makes more sense next season when we get to see more of her, because I truly do love her. If this is never tackled though and I just happen to be overthinking, it's fine. I still like her anyways.

Rosie

A really sweet lady for a, um, cannibal. I can never get behind the fact that she and the other characters eat people RAW though! No matter how beautiful she is, the hotness factor is knocked down as long as you don't clean, cook, and season your food, maam. Nasty.

I hope we see more of her relationship with Charlie though. People keep talking about how Carmilla and Vaggie are similar, but I feel we should talk about her similarities with Charlie too. Throughout the show Charlie is ridiculed and given no respect by her people because of her sweet nature and jolly disposition, but here Rosie is being all those things and yet has a whole town to lead! I hope them meeting is set up to have Charlie learn even more from her.

Adam

Oh man he vexes me lol I don't completely hate him, because he has some funny moments, and kickass songs, and the OG Broadway Beetlejuice voices him, but he's suuuuuch an asshooooole. He's not even the kind of villain that you still like to see and romanticize even when he's evil. At least to me. I think my brother explained accurately why. He hates Adam in fact, and that's because his attitude and personality is too accurate to incels that you can see in real life. I enjoyed him as the first season's villain, but I do NOT want him coming back somehow as a sinner like others want. I want him to stay dead. It's Lute's turn to be the new big bad. I still have Pentious if I want more Alex Brightman anyway.

[newkatzkafe2023]

@lara-legomonkiekid

What if Y/N gets jealous of a girl who around Monkey King Or calls him a cutesy Nickname in public.

(Lmk Wukong) He was hanging with Mk and the gang again at Pigsy Noodle shop until he heard your voice from outside.

Monkey Queen (Y/N): Sunflower!!! 🌻

He froze no no you did not just call him that. He turned his head towards MK and the rest who were trying to hide their giggles even Pigsy was fighting off a smile.

Monkey Queen (Y/N): I know you're busy but I want to let you know. I brought more peach chips from the store. I'm gonna put him in a cabinet at home So if you want some stop by my mountain. I still have some errands to run I'll see you later love you sunflower 🌻.

And with that you ran off to the market down the street. As soon as you left, everybody burst out. Laughing hysterically to the point where some of them could even breathe. Wukong's face was so red you would think he was on fire.

Macaque: Sunflower 🌻 huh???😏😏

Sun Wukong: Ok number one shut up an number two when did you even get here?!?!?😡😡😡😡

(Nezha Reborn Wukong) He was at the workshop with Li Yunxiang help with his motorcycle. Until he heard you come in

Monkey Queen (Y/N): Fluffy you Left you toolbox at my house again!

This made him spit out the water He was drinking just now as Li awkwardly stood next to him.

Monkey Queen (Y/N): I'm gonna leave it by the door I have to go to work so I'll see you later.

You then ran off as your running late and need to catch the bus.

Li:.......um😥

(NR Wukong) Breathe a word of this to anyone and I'll kill you myself👿☠️

(MK Reborn Wukong) What was Provoking and fighting some palace guards it's from the emerald temple. He destroyed the massive peach tree.during the He was in the zone of fighting until

Monkey Queen (Y/N): Sourpatch!!! stop fighting those two little girls right now Your trashing the place!!!!!😡😡😡

Everybody in the area froze at the sound of your voice. As a female monkey with snow white Fur and Piercing navy blue Eyes glared into her husband from down below. You then stomped pass Master Tang and down the hall to calm down. Wukong was Not only disrespected but also embarrassed by you once again. That's what he gets for getting worked up over nothing.

Guards: Did she just call us little girls😟😟😟

(HIB Wukong) Since his release from the mountain prison Buddha put him in he had went to try and find you, but the children were asking a billion and one question. As he was getting more and more Irritated a soft voice called out to him

Monkey Queen (Y/N): Ah, grouchy Bun, I thought you were dead. But we both know that's impossible now isn't it😉😉😉

He froze seeing his Wife from across the Field beautiful As the day he left her, but he wasn't fooled by her gentle tone she is Furious with him and he has a lot of making it up to her to Too bad that didn't distract him from the giggling children behind him Something else he was going to have to explain😥😥😥

(Netflix Wukong) He was spending time with Lin bragging about How he recently saved the village from another demon when,

Monkey Queen (Y/N): Ok chestnut that's enough Bragging for today now come home and have dinner with me

Wukong's face lit up a bit before Muttering a yes dear and said bye to Lin trying to block out the Her giggles.

Feel Free to Reblog😇👍

[jamiedc-they-them]

Good People Part V - Can't Be For Nothing (Platonic)

Summary: War. Revelations of two-hundred years ago, and of a night that won't leave your mind. A new world is seemingly born; as is a new family.

Episodes 7/8

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Note: Thank you all for following this journey! I will probably do a post mortem on it; exploring my ideas going in, what changed and such. Hope you enjoy it when that comes! I'll link it here when I write it!

"We don't have oysters in my vault," Lucy says, making you and Maximus turn around, "we have canned tuna. But, if you like oysters, I'm pretty sure you'll like canned tuna," you both don't know what to say. You both look at each other, then back at Lucy, and just nod. Maybe. Maybe not.

She chuckles, nervously. Then --

"I was supposed to marry a stranger from another vault," she blurts out.

"I thought you were meant to marry your cousin?" you question.

"Wait, what--?!"

"Well," Lucy says, correcting you on the timeline, "I was. But, I didn't really want to. I didn't feel a - connection. I guess I...I did with this one...as he - as he, uh, as he stabbed me. But, look, my point is, I don't have the best luck when it comes to strangers. But...Titus...Y/N...you are the best strangers that I have ever met. You're good people. You deserve nice things. You deserve a home, and a roof over your head. And to not have to fight anymore. And, if you wanted to, you could both come and live with us in Vault 33."

There's a look in her eyes as she looks at Maximus - Titus, the knight who isn't a knight; he'd told you before the whole thing in the vault happened. Sure, you didn't like being lied to about his identity; but, a good person was a good person - and it's a look you've seen before. Romantic love. Attraction. Even out here, it blossoms.

You never wanted that in your life. Friendships were enough for you. So, as quietly as you can, you back away. You go through the doors, letting your friends have their moment together.

It gives you a moment to process. Maximus. Why'd he be honest with you at first? Why not lie. Maybe it was getting too hard for him. Maybe he thought, one slip would be ok. He bet right, it seemed. You didn't tell anyone. Maybe you were a good person. Maybe you did deserve a second chance at life. Another sis-

"Hey," Lucy says, as she leaves with Maximus. He nods to you, you nod back.

"Are you both all square?" you ask.

She looks to Maximus, nodding with a soft smile, "yeah, we're good," she looks back to you, "you ok with a roomie in the vault?"

You look at Maximus, "he ain't so bad company, for a non-red," he snorts at your wording, "I think we'll manage."

Lucy nods, a spring in her step as she walks, leading the way, "let's go get that head, and go home, huh?"

Maximus stands next to you, "ready to go home?" he asks, looking at you.

"Yeah," you say, arms folded. You bump your arm on his, "let's go home."

You, finally, find Thaddaeus, as he sits near a radio station. You see the booby traps, but all three of you pause. Perception working in tandem.

Gunshots are next. However, luck seems to intervene. They all miss. Still, the hands go up. You're not a threat to him. You just want the head.

If anything, though, he's a threat to himself. As he backs up, an arrow goes through his neck. However...he lives still.

His reaction:

"Aw, no! Awwww!"

Then you hear it. Your pulse picks up. Your hand goes into a fist. You feel the nails break skin.

Vertibird. The Brotherhood are here. Your breath picks up.

Maximus breaks one of the heads left behind. He says things to Lucy, then to you. He looks concerned, but doesn't have time to help. He gives you a light push. Lucy takes your hand. Everything sounds underwater. The only thing you can hear is that fucking Vertibird.

You follow Lucy. She keeps a grasp on your hand. You take her gun, just in case.

You make it far away. Or, what you hope to christ constitutes too far away.

You lean against a dead tree, going down to your knees.

Lucy puts the fresh - well, not really fresh, but new - head into a bag and ties it to her belt, before kneeling down next to you. She's seen you feel. But, never to this extent.

"Ok. Ok. Okey Dokey, Luce, you can do this. You can do this. Your friend needs you. Your friend needs you," she tells herself. The old self is still there.

"Y/N?" she asks, softly, "Y/N, I need you to look at me. Focus on my voice," she says. Chet would sometimes get overworked with things. So, she had some practice. But never with someone so trapped in themselves as you.

"Are - is touch ok?" that breaks through, and you nod.

"Ok. Ok, that's - that's, uh, that's good. That’s good, Y/N,” she may be out of her depth - but you need her, and so she’d do all she could, “that’s good. Can you try to take some breaths with me?”

She takes a deep one in. You follow. She sees you now. Whatever the Brotherhood had done before, it had destroyed you.

“Do you wanna tell me what happened?” she asks.

“Just…” you take some more breaths, “just bad memories of the Brotherhood,” you chuckle, but it’s anything but a laugh, “Jesus, Luce. Whatever is in that head, it’s gonna change the world, whoever get their hands on it. You know,” you say, smiling a bit, “we could just run. You and me, huh? Just not let anyone get that fucking head.”

Despite what Lucy would leave behind, she smiles, “it’s a nice idea,” she says, “but, I need to get my dad back. I need to know why Moldaver took him. I need to put this all behind me, one way or another. That,” she stands up, and offers you a hand, “and I made you a promise. A place in my vault. Safety. This place sucks, but it sucks a lot less with someone by my side. And, I’m not leaving you. I’ll wait as long as I need to.”

You’ve seen loyalty like that before. Or had seen it. It hadn’t been followed through on. But, here was someone who you had known for two weeks, who was following through on a thing someone who you had known your entire life didn’t do. 

So, you nod. You can tell her later your full trauma. Right now, she needs you. 

You take her hand, and continue along your way. You hope Maximus is ok. And, selfishly, you hope he can buy you the time you need to get this done. 

You make it to your destination. Finally, People with guns surround you, but neither of you flinch. The doors open, and in you go. 

You walk through a garden, seeing kids running around. A community. Home. Safety. Family. Life continues on, even throughout all of this shit.

Lucy and you get to the entrance to the observatory. Lucy is let in, but you aren’t.

“No,” she says, voice firm, “they come too. They’re family. Moldaver doesn’t get this head if Y/N doesn’t come with me.”

Begrudgingly, the man lets you pass. 

You reach the doors.

“You ready?” you ask your best friend. She takes a deep breath in, and nods.

“As I’ll ever be.”

“Hey,” you say, nudging her, “I’m right here, ok? Like I said, offer still stands.”

She smiles, “I know.”

You enter the room. It’s a grand view, you’ll give it that. See almost the whole wasteland from here. 

You stay back, keeping an eye on things from afar.

“I’ve had a lot of time to think about this moment,” Lucy says to Moldaver, “you wouldn’t believe the things that went through my head. One night…I, I actually tried to stuff a grenade into the neck hole; but, I guess I thought that, really, I was gonna walk in here and…blow everybody up. But it's not really how I was raised. That, and I was stopped by that person over there,” she nudges her head to you. You give a wave, a sarcastic one as you then go back to keeping an eye on thing. So, if you don’t mind, I’m gonna keep things civil.”

Moldaver takes what she needs. It wasn’t his head after all. It was his neck. A blue, small, shining little thing that caused all this bloodshed?

She then makes Lucy an offer. One to fully learn who her father is. To fully understand how Moldaver knows him; and why she did what she did. 

Her father tries to make her not listen. He even looks to you, “you can stop this, you know. She’s your friend, protect her!” He demands.

You look at him, and a part of you wants to. You look at Lucy, she does a slight - almost unnoticeable, but not to you - shake of her head.

“It’s her choice,” you say. The man snarls at you.

Moldaver continues. She tells a story. A story about how her father had been around for a long time. 

“Part of an organisation that thought they had the answers to all the world’s problems…” she continues the story. Saying about the people he was a part of. Vault Tec.

“He never told you where he’s really from, when he’s from. He never told your mother, either…”

Lucy takes the bait. Your hand moves towards your gun. Her father may be in a cell, but he’s a dangerous man - who has been around for a long time.

Lucy is described as just like her mother: kind, loving, curious.

“Isn’t that why you came to the surface? Moldaver asks, “partly to rescue your father, but…to know why I took him.”

Lucy looks at you. She’s been read like a book.

Moldaver then looks to you, “have I seen you before?” 

You look at Moldaver, tilting your head before shaking it.

She studies you for a moment. Then, her eyes light up in realisation. They’re not cruel, though. Just realisation. That’s the only look in her eyes.

“Ah. Y/L/N, right?” she takes your frozen stance as a ‘yes’ before continuing, “I knew her.”

“...’Knew’?” you ask, throat tightening.

“Stop,” Lucy’s dad says. You don’t know why. There’s a slight ringing in your ears.

“Lucy deserves to know the truth,” Moldaver spits at the man, eyes still firmly locked on yours, “so Y/N does too. You came all this way with her, to deliver something for someone you didn’t even know. That sounds like your sister to me,” it’s not said tauntingly. It’s not said with any negative connotation. It’s just simply said. 

“You knew her?” is all you can repeat.

Moldaver nods, “I did. She thought you died out there, that night the raiders came. The night the Brotherhood made their own mess of things. She survived. Barely, but, she did survive. We took her in. She helped us anyway she could. Some sort of thanks, but also I think a punishment to herself for seemingly losing you,” you look to Lucy, who looks in concern, but also a hunger to know - to know about herself and her mother, and how her father ties into all this; a hunger to know about you, about what made you this way. 

Curious, as Moldaver said.

“She was a fighter,” Moldaver continues, “just like you are. Sure, you can shoot and hit things. But, you, no. No, you are more in battle up here,” she says, tapping her head, “now, that is a battle I can fully respect. It isn’t easy fighting a battle like that. Wanting to hurt people, and yourself,” your eyes drift, meeting the eyes of Lucy’s father. He doesn’t say anything.

“No, don’t look at him,” Moldaver says, “he doesn’t care about hurting anyone. He’d hurt his own daughter before he got hurt himself.”

“How dare –!”

“How’d she die?” you ask. The words were easier to come out than you thought. Your eyes go back to Moldaver. Your fist clenches again. You feel it pierce skin.

“I think you know,” Moldaver says, a bit of empathy slipping through.

You blink, or try to blink, the tears away, “raiders.”

She nods.

You cave inwards. You hear your heartbeat. You hear echoes of your sister’s voice. You feel everything you did on that night. The fear. The pain as a wound opened up from a knife. The relief at the Brotherhood arriving. The dread at them just cutting everything and anything down. You played dead. You remember waking up hours later, on top of the rotting pile of one of your friends who had left you for raiders. You remember looking around, not finding your sister. The panic. Then the pain. Then the rage. Then the numbness. You lost…it couldn’t have been years, could it? It could’ve been for all you knew. You just wandered. And hurt. Sometimes even got pissed on. Sometimes did the pissing. You were sometimes the victim, and sometimes the aggressive. Sometimes innocent. Sometimes guilty.

You hear the alarm, then feel someone grab your arm. Your eyes open, it’s Moldaver. She nods to the door. Your fingers are removed from your flesh. You gasp. Moldaver gives you a pat on the arm, before leaving with her people. You run to the massive hole in the building, seeing the Brotherhood arrive. You pray with everything in you that Maximus isn’t in one of the suits. You look to Lucy, then nod. You go to the door. 

As if having sixth sense, Lucy turns around and sees you heading for the door, “where are you going?!” she asks, alarmed.

You pause at the door, hand hovering just over the handle. 

“Y/N? Where are you going?”

You don’t turn to look at your friend. Instead, you shut your eyes and answer:

“I’ll buy you some time.”

“What–? What, Y/N that’s - that’s suicide!” She moves forward, grabbing your arm, making you turn to look at her.

What she sees makes her pause.

It’s the same look she gave Norm when she hid him. A protective fire. One that could be used for limitless energy just like the Cold Fusion that everyone was fighting over.

It’s then. Right then and there, she lets herself say it to herself.

Sisterly. It is sisterly, how she feels towards you. You were like Norm, someone she just accepted and would do anything for. You’re family. 

You seem to have that same realisation. Given the look in your eyes.

It is the sibling telling the other: I will sort this out. Do not come out until then. I love you.

But, instead of a camera reel burning to project the living hell being brought down upon you all. The whole world seems to be burning that fiery red instead. Burning and crumbling down all around you.

Just like with Norm, that assurance doesn't work. She grips your arm tighter.

“Please.”

You put the hand that was hovering around the door on top of hers, squeezing it.

“I’m coming back,” you promise.

“Don’t make a promise you can’t keep.”

You shake your head, “I ain’t. ‘Cause them out there, they’re fighting for power. Some, dumb thing such as that in a world that lost control years ago.”

“Then - then why are you going out those doors?” 

You smile, “I already let one sister down. I ain’t doing that again.”

With that, you pull your arm free, and open the door. You give Lucy one more nod, before shutting it behind you.

She gulps. Then she hears ringing in her ears. As all that she has learned about her mother, father, upbringing, everything, comes crashing down upon her.

You remember one of your first kills. A man was trying to kill yourself and your sister. He had knocked her out. He had punched you a few times and the world was spinning. You had spat blood onto the floor as the man moved over to your sister. With whatever strength you had left. You got up, charged him, and had him on the floor this time. You punched him a few times, before sticking your teeth into his neck. His gurgled scream didn’t mean anything to you. You just had this anger. This protective fury to you. You ripped out the piece of his throat that you had taken, spitting it out. 

Your sister was standing next to you the next moment, you both watching the man bleed out. She only reached a hand out to you. You took it. You held it for a while after. A bloodsoaked hand. But a promise to never let go. To keep going together.

Fate had other ideas. The Brotherhood had their goals. But they mistook you for raiders it seemed. Or just couldn’t see shit in those helmets of theirs when they started firing. It was only you and your sister and at that point, you didn’t mourn them much. But, that fire of knowing - or, at least, knowing as you did at the time - that your sister had been seemingly killed as well…it made you punish yourself. It made you never fully heal after fights. It made you never fully accept help.

And yet, that damn Lucy Maclean had come into your life, and given you something you never thought you’d have again:

Hope. 

You remember that hope as you fir each round - you are a decent shot, especially for someone who has no actual training with them - and hit most of your targets. You take weapons from fallen people where you could. 

A bullet hits your piece of cover. You heard footsteps. Your latest weapon had clicked ages ago. So, you wait…and wait. And then –

You dive, tackling the person to the floor. They block a punch, before you get one in and –

A bullet slams into your shoulder, sending you to the ground.

“No!” you hear a familiar voice say. You blink, adjusting to the searing pain and the daylight. It’s Maximus, with a friend of his, “they’re my friend! They’re my friend!” he says.

“Oh shit!” his friend says, dropping to one knee, dragging you out of the way. The war itself is distraction enough.

“Where’s Lucy?” Maximus asks you.

You have a hand to your shoulder. One his friend removes as they put a Stimpack into your arm. You groan at it, before answering him:

“Upstairs…with her father.”

“Is she alive?” 

“The more you piss around here, not likely,” you say.

Maximus nods. He looks to his friend, “go,” they say. He nods, and pats you on the arm and leaves. 

His friend stays with you, “I’m sorry,” they say.

You nudge your head to the door, “go. Don’t get caught out here.”

They look like they wanna stay, then realise why you’re saying that. The Brotherhood are brutal. They only let Maximus live due to loyalty. They nod, leaving too, but a few extra rounds find their way onto the floor.

Good deeds and all that, Lucy would say.

The battle seems to be dying down. And you are just plain dying. Another shot had hit you. This one closer to your chest. You had stumbled your way into the building, seeing dead Brotherhood members around you. 

You collapse, growing weaker by the moment. You hate it, having your promise be broken. But, you tried. You fought them off as best you –

“Aw, hell,” you hear a gruff voice say. A hand grabs your arm, and you are hoisted up; your arm going around someone’s shoulders, “we gotta stop meeting like this, sunshine.”

You look, and see the Ghoul who had taken you hostage.

“Ah,” he says, “don’t talk. You’re the silent one. I like that about you. Only talk when necessary,” he begins to move you to the stairs, “now, don’t worry about these ones. They’re all taken care of. But, I do need a word with Mister Maclean. And, I do think that if little Miss Lucy finds out I left you to die, she might do more than rip off my finger, this time.” 

He gets you to the room. He opens the door and goes in, leaning you against a wall. You stumble in as best you can, looking worse and worse by the second. 

“Uh-uh,” The Ghoul says when Hank Maclean looks at you, “don’t look at them. You look at me, now,” Hank complies.

You make your way over to Maximus and Lucy. Getting to the floor with at least a bit of grace. Lucy looks at you, eyes going wide.

You reach out with your hand not on your wound, and cover Lucy’s. A bloodsoaked hand. But a promise to never let go. To keep going together.

“You look out at this wasteland,” the Ghoul says, “it looks like chaos. But there’s always somebody behind the wheel.”

He knows Lucy wants to know how he knows her father. But makes an offer. You can stay here, wait for Maximus to wake up, but you won’t be spared - hell, you were by a sheer stroke of luck - or, you go with him, and meet your makers. 

“You coming?” he asks you. 

Lucy squeezes your hand. Your vision goes hazy. Time is running out. A gunshot goes off. Lucy’s mother dies.

You feel hands on your arm as you are once again lifted up. Lucy is holding you. Even now, she’s gentle. 

You realise what you are then, to each other: an anchor.

Something pulling the other ashore. Making sure they don’t get lost in the madness of this world.

You feel a jab in your side. Another fucking stimpack. Christ you hope a dependance doesn’t follow with these.

You see the Ghoul again, “one for the road.”

You nod. To your surprise, so does he.

Lucy takes your hand.

“You ok?” she asks. You nod, feeling a bit stronger.

“Okey Dokey,” she says. This time, not as bright in tone. One that isn’t entirely flat either. More of relief, a tired relief. A want for rest. But also one that tells you she understands now. This world was dark and painful. There were few light spots in it for hope.

Her hand in yours, tells you she understood your own realisation. You are a bright spot in each other’s lives. A friend to always be there.

So, off you walk together. Her father was gone, in more ways than one. He had fled like a coward. She’d almost shot him. She wanted to.

Her family was now down to two members:

Norm - her little brother. The one she’d always protect.

And you - a sibling she found out here. One that would protect her just as much as she did you.

It wasn’t much. But it was something. 

It wasn’t all for nothing, coming up here. It wasn’t all for nothing, delivering that head.

A new world was coming through. It was fighting.

Now, it was the time for monsters. 

She was just glad you weren’t one of them.

[obessedwithfictionalmen]

You have to live

Curt Biddick X Female! Reader

Summary: Curt survies his crash, but he's in a bad shape...

Warning: Mention of injuries/ swearing/ Google translated german/ dead brother/

A/n: Based on a request, hope you like it :)

He was dragging his body on the ground; he was hurt from the crash he just lived. He didn’t know how he survived this, but he was grateful that he did. He saw smoke coming from what he thought was a chimney, he had to go there, maybe they’ll help him. Curt had no other choice.

Y/n was outside, taking care of the garden when she was a man collapsing on the ground, she rushed to help him, she lived alone, since her brother died in combat, she was alone. When she came near the men, she realised that he was a pilot. ‘’American’’ he mumbled. Y/n helped him up and allowed him to put his weight on her. ‘’Thank you, I’m Curt’’ he mumbled. ‘’Stop talking, save your energy’’ she said with a French accent. She was from France, at least her mother was, and she taught her French since she was young. Her dad was German, that’s why she was close to Regensburg, where Curt’s mission was.

Curt sat down in the kitchen as he watched the woman run around the house to get medical stuff. When she got in front of him, she seemed overwhelmed, he had so many injuries, she wondered how he was still alive. ‘’Can you take your equipment off? I need to see how bad your injuries are’’ she asked. He nodded and began to take his equipment off, but he was struggling, she helped him. ‘’I never caught your name’’ he said, weakly. ‘’Y/n’’ she simply replied. She analyzed the man and decided to start with his legs, he had burns on his right leg and some glass in his left leg. ‘’I’m going to take the glass pieces out, it might hurt, but talk to me, about anything. I need you to stay conscious, I’ll give you something for the pain, ok?’’ she asked him. She shot him in the leg with morphine, he was lucky, her mother was a nurse and she had medical stuff in the house. More than a normal person would own. ‘’Okay, well like I said, I’m Lieutenant Curtis Biddick, I’m with the 100th bomb group’’ as he continued to talk about himself, Y/n got to work, piece by piece she removed them form his leg, she was careful, she didn’t want to hurt him.

After 25 minutes, she was done healing his legs, she had blood on her hands, but it wasn’t too much. ‘’Can you take your shirt off, I need to take a look’’ she stuttered. He smiled before taking his shirt off, he had small burns. She put an ointment on his burns, it was homemade, but it worked. ‘’What about you, Y/n, are you married?’’ Curt asked, curious about the woman. He didn’t saw a ring on her finger, but maybe he was too injured to notice it. ‘’Nope I’m not married, Lieutenant’’ she simply replied. ‘’You can call me Curt, you know, ranks don’t apply here’’ he chuckled, but moaned in pain at the contact of the ointment. ‘’You’re really lucky to be alive, you know that?’’ Y/n states, making Curt nod.

They didn’t know how much time went by, but Y/n had finally healed each of Curt’s injuries. Right now, he was sleeping in her bed, he needed to rest, and Y/n needed to clean all the blood he left in her kitchen. But a knock at the door made her jump, she made sure his uniform was hidden, she gave him her brother’s cloths. When she opened the door, her heart sank, German’s officer. ‘’Hallo Madam, können wir reinkommen? ‘‘he said. He asked her if they could come in the house. She was terrified, if they found Curt, they would kill him, and her. She tried to look as calm as possible. ‘’Of course, my husband is sleeping, be quiet’’ she replied in German. Shit, she didn’t have ring. Officers looked around the house, she hid the uniform in the garden before they arrived, they never looked outside. ‘’Why don’t you have a ring?’’ one of them asked. ‘’We’re too poor, I inherited this house and I sell my cow’s milk to have money. My husband works at a factory, he’s deaf, so he can’t join the military’’ she lied. She was nervous, her hearth was pounding. The Germans nodded and closed the bedroom’s door. ‘’There was a crash, if you see American soldiers, alert us right away’’ he ordered as they left her house. When they finally left, she sighed, they were so close of getting caught.

Curt woke up 30 minutes later. He was woken up by the smell of something. It smelled good. When he exited the room, he found Y/n cooking. ‘’Hello, dinner’s almost ready, sit down’’ she smiled. ‘’Did someone come here while I was sleeping, I thought I heard people talk?’’ he asked as he sat down. Y/n nodded and took a deep breath. ‘’Yes, German soldiers, looking for American survivors, I told them you were my husband, and that you were deaf, so that’s why you weren’t in the military, they believed me and left’’ she explains as she serves him dinner. His mouth opened in shock. ‘’I’m so sorry, that must’ve been so scary!’’ he apologized. ‘’It’s okay, you needed to sleep’’ she smiles. ‘’You know, Curt, you can stay here until you’re fully healed’’ she offers. ‘’I would like that, thank you very much for your hospitality, Y/n, you’re an angel’’ he says, looking at her. She blushed and took a bite out of the chicken she cooked. ‘’It’s normal, everyone would’ve done that’’ she huffs shyly. She was nervous, but it was a good nervous. Curt was really attractive, and the fact that he complimented her, made Y/n blush. ‘’Not everyone can lie to German officers, you literally risked your life. I owe you one’’ he says. She smiled as she bites her bottom lips. ‘’But you’ll have to be my fake husband for the time of your stay. If they come back, we’ll have to act like we’re married.’’ She stutters. ‘’Not a problem’’ he quickly replies. He was truly grateful for her. Without her, he would be dead. But he was looking forward to this stay, she was an amazing woman and he couldn’t wait to get to know her better.

[islands-0f-violence]

Kimetsu no... Isekai?

Synopsis: Modern Era MC is thrown into disarry inside the Demon Slayer universe. What could go wrong? Pairings: Various X MC/Reader

❝Under the harsh light of day, MC appears! Groggy and confused, our lovely MC has to figure out how she went from attending boring seminars to slaying demons within hours. With no memory to conclude how she got there--or why she got there--our MC adventures through the Taisho era with Tanjiro and company trying to figure out just why they're there, while trying to keep the story as linear as possible. Though, it's getting harder and harder to keep secrets as they keep piling up.❞

Chapter 1 [NEXT]

I winced at the bright light that suddenly enveloped my face. Covering my eyes from further abuse, I sat up in my bed and rubbed them out. I could've sworn I shut the curtains tight so this wouldn't happen. Upon placing my hand down on my bed, I felt a peculiar texture and immediately snapped my eyes open. Around me was greenery, something that isn't in my bedroom. I stumbled up from my bed—which happened to be made of moss—and looked around.

Where the fuck am I?

The last thing I remembered before dozing off was watching TenSura. Ah, what an anime. No! No time for that right now! I gotta figure out what happened. I felt around my person for anything but found nothing. I'm stranded out here with no phone or supplies.

Honestly, it's probably just a prank my friends pulled. Though this feels borderline too far, I suppose they wouldn't actually leave me for dead in the middle of some unknown place, right?

Right?

Sighing, I began to walk around. Well, not around, in as straight of a line as I could. I can't waste time going in circles. After a few moments of walking, I came across a dirt path. I'll be damned, I'm not completely lost. I still don't recall any dirt trails I'd personally know near me, though, so I just hope I'm not too far from home. Or a gas station. I really have to pee right now. I kept walking for quite some time and felt like I was getting absolutely nowhere. Suddenly, the trees and greenery around me got thinner and thinner. Once the trees had ended, I walked out into a nice field. On either side of the path I'm walking lies some sort of vegetable or something. Maybe rice? It's set up so weirdly… I don't think this is anywhere near my house.

Looking further ahead, there was a bright blob in the middle of the road. It wasn't moving and didn't look like any animal I'd seen, so I continued forward toward it. Maybe it'll have some telling of where I'm at.

As I got closer, my stomach began to twist. I felt such an intense wave of déjà vu wash over me, but I shoved it aside. Once I approached it, it became clearer and more person-sized? No, not just person-sized, but just a human! I crouched down beside them, they weren't making too much noise. Honestly, I was concerned because they were just trembling there.

"U-Uhm," I started out, but it felt like I haven't used my voice in days, "excuse me? Are you ok?" I went to reach out to nudge their shoulder when they stopped moving altogether. Their head snapped up suddenly and this man's amber eyes were locked onto mine.

And then he opened his mouth.

"AHHHHHHHHH! I thought I heard someone coming, but I thought I was crazy, but it turned out to be an angel sent from above!" In mere seconds he had pushed my back and was nuzzling my cheek, a sobbing mess. "You've got to marry me! MARRY ME PLEASE! I might die soon!" My face exploded in color as I tried to shove the strange man off of me. Looking around, there was no one here to help me so I panicked and began to hit him.

"Off! Get off of me!" He seemed to not care as he continued to cling to me and beg for marriage. I don't think I'm ready for that. As I continually assaulted him, I got a closer look at his face.

It was snotty, but I instantly recognized the blond and orange hair, the bushy brows, and—oh god—the haori. How could I not recognize this pattern sooner? My swings got weaker as I put the realization together and he seemed to quiet down a bit once he noticed, but I swung harder once I remembered cosplayers exist.

This man could just be pretending to be Zenitsu to cop a feel of random girls and blame it on his character! With this new fuel to my anger, I successfully kicked him off and scrambled backward onto my feet. I brushed my shorts off from the dirt path. He pulled himself back up and began to walk on his knees towards me, hands are done in a praying motion. "Pleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasemarryme-" he babbled.

"Ugh, just get away from me, it's pathetic you have to cosplay that just to touch a girl." He blinked, seemingly not understanding a word I said before he lunged. Screaming, I tried to turn and run off from his sudden attack, but he was too fast. Lightning fast. Does this kid do track in his spare time?

"You can't leave me here! I'll probably die on my next mission and if I do I'll never have the chance to marry someone so you have to marry me right now!" He was getting desperate, his fingers digging into my hips from how hard he was gripping. I was actually starting to tear up when suddenly his weight was forced off of me. I looked up and saw a man in a green and black haori, a box strapped onto his back and an irritated look adorned his face as he faced the blond.

Did I stumble into a cosplay reenactment scene and they used me as the girl? They began bickering, running through the same shtick as I slowly boiled with anger. Would it not hurt to ask someone's permission? Maybe I wouldn't have minded or even dressed up for it!

"This is so fucking stupid, next time ask someone before you involve them in your games." I snapped at the squabbling pair, effectively stopping their argument and I turned to walk off, hoping to find someone competent enough to help me.

"Stop! You're going to be my wife!" 'Zenitsu' reached out again, grabbing my shirt and yanking me back. I fell on my ass pretty hard and let out a groan. He squeaked and crawled over with speed to my side. "I'msosorryididntmeantopullyouthathard-" I held my hand up and stopped him, which to my surprise he did.

"A-Are you OK?" I looked up to see 'Tanjirou' reaching his hand out as if to help me up. I accepted and he pulled me up gently, even stepping in between me and 'Zenistu.' At least one of these guys has manners.

"Yes," I paused, contemplating asking him for directions. "Do you know how I could get back home? I don't know this area very well. We shouldn't be too far from [address], right?" His look changed to an uncertain one as he looked me over. This further puzzled him, I guess.

"[Address]? I haven't heard of anywhere like that near me. Which prefecture are you from?" Prefecture? Excuse me.

"Look, we're not in Japan so don't play with me right now. I'm looking for [address] in [State/Province]. You can drop the act." I swallowed as the boy in front of me struggled to understand. Even 'Zenitsu' was quiet, trying to figure out what I was talking about. Is it that hard to stop with the reenactment to help someone who's lost?

"But we are in Japan? What are you talking about?" I opened my mouth to further argue with him but stopped myself. I woke up out of nowhere in the middle of some forestry area. I don't remember getting there at all, not to mention I clearly remember laying in my own bed last night. To say I am confused is an understatement. I genuinely believe this is fake and there are cosplayers in front of me, but a part of me is scared. What if I'm actually here?

I shook my head, it's not possible. Looking back up at 'Tanjirou' who was waiting patiently for me, I reached up to run my hand through his hair. Before he could object, I already had his strands between my fingers and I felt over his head for bumps from possible wig caps. None. Leaving him red-faced and stammering, I turned to 'Zenitsu' who had watched the interaction with jealousy. I proceeded to do the same to him, which he absolutely enjoyed. But still no wig cap. I pulled my hand away to his disappointment and examined it for any spray-on dyes.

Ok, this has got to be either a really good dye job or my ass is in Kimetsu no Yaiba. And yet, for some reason, I felt calmer than I should. Maybe it's because I don't thoroughly believe it yet? And honestly, as excited as I am for an isekai, I at least want to know if it's real, y'know?

"I- Sorry, I just needed to know if this was… really happening." I covered it lamely. "What I mean is, I don't remember coming to Japan."

"How could you not remember coming?? You speak the language." The blond pointed an accusing finger at me. This puzzled me, I don't think I'm speaking Japanese. In fact, I don't hear it either.

"But your outfit… tells a different story." 'Tanjirou' commented, looking me over once more. I look down at myself to see the loose pair of shorts I sleep in and a random [design] shirt. There is literally nothing wrong with my outfit. Well, I guess unless I am in an anime set back in time, there is.

"Shut up! There's nothing wrong with her outfit!" OK, maybe this actually is Zenitsu. He giggled and crawled forward, reaching for my thighs when I slapped his hands away. "That's ok, I can wait for my… my…" I expected him to say wife, but it looks like he was going for something different. "What's your name?"

Of course, they wouldn't know your name, dipshit. "Sorry, it's [Y/N]."

"[Y/N]." Tanjirou tasted, slowing the pronunciation. "I knew your accent was strange, but this definitely backs up that you're a foreigner. My name is Kamado Tanjirou, but please, call me Tanjirou."

Not missing a beat, the blond beside him scrambled up and grabbed my hand, smiling. "I'm Agatsuma Zenitsu. Your future husband." I pulled my hand from his grasp and stifled back a laugh. Me? In this situation? Fanfiction could never beat this.

"You said you don't know your way around right? Well, more specifically that you don't know how you got here, you could come with me and I could take you to a nearby village?" That sounds like a shit idea, to be dropped off at a random village and just left. However, I could travel with them to their next mission and see if this place is actually real.

I opened my mouth to respond before Zenitsu butted in. "You! You got in my way once already, I'm not letting you again! We're going together!" He dramatically pointed at Tanjirou, seething at the idea of the two of us traveling alone.

"Fine, we'll go together then, but I do have a mission we need to complete." Zenitsu panicked and began to have a full meltdown again, to my and Tanjirou’s disappointment. After his scenic spazz attack, Tanjirou managed to hoist him up and get him to walk a way with us.

"Better now?" The redhead smiled at the other.

"Mm, yeah, but I'm hungry." I walked along the other side of Tanjirou, making sure I stood away from Zenitsu. Tanjirou reached into his haori, pulling out an onigiri and splitting it. He handed one half to Zenitsu and offered the other to me.

Not gonna lie, it looks good, but provided I'm experiencing this in real life, he's going to need it more than me. I shook my head, "Keep it, I feel nauseous. " I didn't lie, I do feel sick right now, but I'm not sure if it's just nervousness or not. Tanjirou opened his mouth to offer again, but I grabbed his arm and had him take a bite. He was surprised at my action but didn't bother offering it again. I know he was hungry, too, so I would keep chewing and swallowing as well.

"Eh?! Really, just eat in front of her?! Don't you have any other food!" Suddenly flustered, Tanjirou swallowed harshly and began sputtering.

"I-I'm sorry, this is all I had left-" I slapped Zenitsu upside his head for making Tanjirou panic. Not saying another word, Tanjirou finished his half, not trying to invoke anything like that out of me.

"Give it a rest! I'm not hungry, can't you listen?" I glared at the blond, who teared up in response.

"[Y/N]-chan, you've been hitting me all day! Why can't you hit Tanjirou like that?!" He brokenheartedly bit into his snack.

Tanjirou paled and looked at me. "Tanjirou hasn't been acting stupid! Also, it's only been like 20 minutes since we've met?!" The redhead was relieved to see I wasn't gunning him down. Tanjirou stuck his tongue out at Zenitsu before a crow circled above them and cawed out.

"Tanjirou! Zenitsu! Start running to your next destination! Run! Run!" Hearing that in person, yeah a little creepy.

"AHHHH- THAT CROW! IT JUST SPOKE TO US! crowsarentsupposedtodothatright?!" Zenitsu fell to the ground, having one of his episodes again. Instead of helping him, Tanjirou and I just stood there, staring at him with a blankly stare. Was it ever right for me to simp for this scrub?

( ˘▽˘)っ☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ

The rest of the walk was decently calm, except for the occasional whining of Zenitsu wanting to stay back. We eventually reached our destination, which was a tall manor, mansion? Big home. Yes, that. I can't remember what happens here too well since it's been a minute, but there should he some kids around here. I scanned the area.

"I smell blood, lots of it." Tanjirou sniffed.

"Smell? I don't know about that, but I can hear something from inside… you hear it, right?" They looked at each other, and then at me. I looked back at them blankly.

"Huh? Did you ask me something?" They deadpan. Zenitsu begins to repeat it when Tanjirou interrupts him.

"Look, children. " We follow his gaze to the tree line where a young boy and girl stood, clinging to each other with wide eyes. Zenitsu is startled for a moment since he didn't hear them, but Tanjirou took the lead and stepped towards them carefully before crouching down to their height. I followed behind, hoping to not frighten them. "Hi! Is this your house?" The kids shook their heads and he continued. "Could you tell me what's wrong? I'm here to help you." After they showed no signs of speaking, Tanjirou pulled Zenitsu's sparrow out and presented it to them. "Look at what I have, it's a sparrow." It took a moment, but they relaxed and one of them finally spoke up.

"Th-There's a monster in there!" The boy choked out. "We were with my brother and a monster grabbed him! We followed them here with his blood but… he was hurt badly." The kids teared up. I wanted to hold them close and tell them it would be ok, but it felt weird. Like it wasn't my place.

"That was very brave of you two, to follow him all the way here. Don't you worry, me and my friend here are going to help him and reunite you three." The girl's eyes sparkled.

"Really?! You're going to save our brother!" Tanjirou gave her a kind smile and nodded.

"Hey, do you hear that? It's like drums." Zenitsu spoke up seriously, staring at the second-floor window. What happened here again? I listened closely, trying to hear what he was hearing but couldn't.

No-

I got up and ran towards the house but by the time I got there, I was too late. A body flung itself from the second story and landed mere feet in front of me. I stared down at it, wide-eyed, feeling the blood spatter hit my bare legs and cheeks. I heard the other two run towards me, Tanjirou crouching over the body. I remember this scene, as he's the one who comforted him in his last moments. Could I have saved him if I caught him? Or was he too far gone before that?

"Hey! Are you OK?" Zenitsu turned me around to face him, I stared at him blankly for a moment. He had a look of concern and his hands were around both of my wrists. I shook myself out of it and gave a half smile.

"Yeah, just wasn't expecting that." That was a lie. "I just was trying to hear what you were hearing." What I really didn't expect was a legitimate dead body. I didn't expect the realness of the situation. If I enter that house with them, will I come out like this next? I'm just an anomaly. Anything could happen to me.

Zenitsu felt around his person until he found a spare cloth that he happened to have. He placed one of his hands under my chin to look up at him and used the cloth to clean off what splattered on my face. He had a soft smile while he was doing it, and damn I almost melted right there. Well, that was until he finished with my face and dropped down, wiping at my leg while placing his other hand firmly on my ass to hold himself up. "I'll get you cleaned up, [Y/N]-chan~" This ruined it and I planted my foot against his chest to push him away. He fell backward, losing his grip on the cloth he had and I used it to quickly get what he didn't before he sat back up. "So mean…"

I turned to Tanjirou who finished laying the boy in a respective way. He turned towards the kids and gestured toward this man. "Is this… your brother?" They shook their heads and he sighed in relief. "Then we still have time." He bowed to the body before getting up and walking over to the kids. He took his box off and handed it to them, smiling. "This will protect you. I and my friend are going in for your brother, so just wait here with [Y/N] and everything will be alright!"

Thank God, he didn't expect me to go in with him. Zenitsu, however, looks like he was just given a life sentence. "I don't know if we should Tanjirou! I can't fight!" He cried. I glanced over at the kids who stared at him in obvious disgust. Eh, maybe I do wanna go in. I could see him make a fool of himself in front of those kids. Tanjirou's only response to that was to grab him by the haori and drag him to the entrance.

"We'll be back, [Y/N]! Stay with the kids." He waved as he and Zenitsu entered the building. I sighed, looking back at the box of his sister and the children. If it weren't the day, maybe I would take a peek inside. I crouched down beside it, reaching out to examine the materials used, and suddenly the box shook, and scratching sounds emitted from it. I jumped, and immediately felt stupid since I expected it to happen. The kids screamed and dashed for the main door.

I got up and ran towards them after I realized they were making a b-line for the entrance. "No! Don't go in there!" I was a few inches short of grabbing the boy's kimono when the door slid shut. I stood there, mid-run and my hand outstretched where the boy once was. I can't go in there, I won't live! But I have to, what will Tanjirou and Zenitsu think about me if I let those kids run in there?

Actually, Zenitsu wouldn't blame me one bit.

But that's not the problem, it's immoral. I reached for the door and went to open it, but it wouldn't budge. I glared at it and tried again. Still, no movement. I took a few steps back from the door and looked at the frame and—there! The door was slammed so hard, it broke the door frame. The door is now jammed into the wood, and therefore not moving. Huh, I guess I don't need to go then. Kicking the frame in slight frustration, I made my way back to Tanjirou's box and sat on the ground beside it. Soon enough, there were scratches coming from the box again. I furrowed my brows. Does she need something?

"Hello?" She doesn't know me yet, so I don't want to just start calling her name. "Is there someone in there?" I was met with silence. I waited a bit longer to see if she'd respond, but it seems since she can't sense Tanjirou outside the box, she doesn't want to. Tanjirou… "Are you worried about Tanjirou? He's going to be OK, trust me! He'll be back soon." I stopped at that, not wanting to give her too many details. Just give her hope for his return.

After a moment, there was more movement in the box, with no scratches this time. She must've been stressed before with Tanjirou leaving her here. I hope that brings her some peace.

It felt like a good hour, but eventually, there was movement from the house. Zenitsu came barreling out of the same window as the guy from before. In his arms was the boy from earlier. I gotta admit, he looks pretty cool when he's doing selfless stuff. I ran over to where he was going to land and, again, fell short and watched as he hit the ground. Fortunately, I knew he was going to be OK already.

The boy, however, didn't. "Ah! Are you OK?!" He gasped out, pointing at Zenitsu's head.

I looked closer and winced at the stream of blood where his head hit the ground. "Yeah, I'm better than ever since I got out of there, why?" He rubbed his head sheepishly and then froze when he felt something wet. Bringing his hand back in front of him, he saw blood and screamed. "TH-THAT'S WHY!" I pulled the cloth he was using earlier and pressed it against his wound for him. In response, he giggled gratefully and flushed. Man's was just dying and now he's blushing. Great.

A crush suddenly emitted from the other side of the building and a boar-headed figure rounded the corner. "I sense a demonic presence!" And then the most guttural cackle came from him. He started towards Tanjirou's box.

Honestly, I could care less because of damn this man's chest. Stop, stop ogling him right now, [Y/N]. I can't stop. Stop. I can't stop. Stop. I can't- UGHSG, get to Nezuko now! I can't get distracted by him, he's literally targeting her.

I half expected Zenitsu to get up as he does in the story, but he's too busy begging to be babied further by me to do it. I groaned and sprinted towards the box, Zenitsu sitting up confused behind me. I blocked Inosuke's leg as he came to kick back the box. His foot met my crossed arms and knocked me back into the box. A corner lodged itself into my back and I gasped in pain. Jesus fuck, that hurt.

"You, woman, get out of my way!" He pointed a sword down at me, tip at my nose. I scowled and pushed the box back further, backing up with it. He brought his sword up to swing it down when suddenly there was yellow in between us. Zenitsu stood there, arms out. "St-Stop! Leave her and the box alone!"

"There's a demon in that box and if you don't move I'll have to take you with it." Zenitsu stuttered for a moment, aware that he was right.

"No! Well, I mean! I know that! I'll ask Tanjirou when I see him, I just haven't yet." He glanced around nervously.

Inosuke didn't like this answer and pulled his arm back. "I don't care! I'll take him and his box out!" He proceeded to punch Zenitsu, who recoiled back at me. I caught him and stabilized his stance so he didn't fall over. Inosuke continued his pursuit and kicked Zenitsu's legs out from underneath him and began to kick him while he was down. In reflex, I got up and tackled the boar. This pisses me off too much to be able to stop and watch.

He laughed maniacally as we rolled over each other, fighting for dominance. I swung at him at any chance I got, but it was like my punches weren't doing anything to him. I kept my stomach and face as protected as I could, but there was only so much I could do when being rolled around on the ground. I could hear Zenitsu yelling out, but eventually, Inosuke's fist met my stomach and I gasped for air, letting go of him. He took advantage of this and got another hit on the side of my face. My ears were ringing and I tried to make out voices from it but had a hard time focusing on them and trying to breathe. I could feel myself being sat up as I began to breathe again. My hearing was clearing and Zenitsu was snapping to get my attention.

"[Y/N]! [Y/N]! Can you hear me? Oh my god, are you alive?!" I looked around before answering him, seeing Inosuke knocked back and Tanjirou standing above him, seething.

"Y-Yeah, I'm fine. It just made things fuzzy for a moment." I tried to get up but immediately got pulled back into Zenitsu's lap.

"No! You shouldn't get up after getting hit like that!" My eye twitched.

"Zenitsu, I'm fine. It just, like, stunned me for a moment, I guess." I tried to pry myself from his grasp again to no avail. I glanced over at Tanjirou who watched us with disgust I know people could only hold for Zenitsu. His attention was snatched by Inosuke once again as he began to sit up.

"I understand! Fight me, with your fists!" Tanjirou sweat dropped and told him no. Inosuke ignored him and lunged at him, Tanjirou missing just barely. I wiggled out of Zenitsu's grasp while they had their squabble. Eventually, Inosuke's head was grabbed and Tanjirou slammed his head into the boar's. There was a sickening crunch that I even heard and I winced.

"DIDYOUGUYSJUSTBREAKYOURSKULLS?!" Zenitsu screamed, shaking his head back and forth at the scene. The boar head slowly came off Inosuke and I stared in anticipation. Blue hair and vibrant green eyes were revealed and I squealed. Of course, I clamped my hand over my mouth, but I don't think it matters since neither guy was looking my way. "EH?! A girl's face! How could someone with your personality be so pretty!"

Inosuke turned towards Zenitsu. "Got a problem with my face?!" He huffed.

"No! There isn't a problem! It's just that most people, including me, would consider it an attractive face!" Tanjirou smiled nervously. This seemed to rile Inosuke up further. I had no comments, I just wanted to soak up this moment and look. He caught my gaze and lunged forward again.

"You! Do you have a problem with my face? Stop staring!" He growled as Tanjirou and Zenitsu caught him halfway. "I'm going to fight all of you! Fight me! Headbutt me! Just fight me!"

"Stop! We can't do that!"

"Stop! It's taboo to fight with each other! Is it really that fun to you? To beat those who are weaker than you??"

The guy flexibly bounced back, doing a flip and landing in an interesting pose. "Fight me now! I'm flexible, strong! I won't take no for an answer."

"Stop bending like that! You've got broken ribs! That can't be good for you." They cry.

"There is no one else like me! Only I can do this! Aren't I awesome?! Aren't I?!" He smiled up at them in his scorpion pose. "Now fight me!"

"No!" Everyone yells.

"You know what! I'll tell you my name! Hashibara Inosuke! You better remember it!" He stood up straight.

"How is it spelled??" Tanjirou piped up.

Inosuke was taken aback. "Spelled?! Eh! I don't know how to spell, or read! I just know my name was written on my loin-ACK!" He paused. We watched as his eyes rolled to the back of his head and he fell back.

Zenitsu screamed. "Is he dead?!" Tanjirou quickly knelt down beside the man and sighed in relief.

"He's just unconscious! I bet I gave him a concussion when I headbutted him." He smiled.

"A-Are you OK?" The girl spoke up, Tezuka? Teruko? Teruko I think.

"Yes! I was born with a really hard head, like my mother!" He smiled proudly. Teruko grinned at him and reached up.

"Could I touch your head?" He nods and lowers his head for her and she runs her small hand across it, even tapping it. "Wow, it is tough!" I lean in and reach out as well. Might as well do it, too, since he's offering. My palm came into contact with his forehead and he turned red. I ran my thumb across it and the red mark and smiled.

"Yeah, it's hard." Zenitsu began whining behind me, disappointed.

Tanjirou stared for a moment before he got up hurriedly. "I-I think we should start burying the dead. There were countless people in there." He started off in the direction of the house, before making Zenitsu give him his haori and taking his own off to make sure Inosuke was more comfortable. After that, he barely spared me a glance before taking Zenitsu with him inside again. Was I not going to help?

( ˘▽˘)っ☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ

Yeah, I helped more than they wanted me to. How do I know this? The moment they brought the first bodies out, I helped with the burials and they kept trying to push me away. I proved stubborn and kept assisting where I thought I could. There was a sudden movement from behind us and we turned just in time for Inosuke to get up and face us.

“What are you guys doing?” he asked.

“We’re burying the dead, you should help.” Inosuke turned his head up in distaste.

“I don’t need to help, I see no reason to bury them.” I opened my mouth to say something since he was so rude about it, but Tanjirou beat me to it. Honestly, I preferred his response anyway.

“Oh, it’s OK, I see. You’re too injured to help, right? Please, lay down and get some rest. I wouldn’t want you to overdo it.” He gave a coy smile. I had to stifle my laugh. Way to go. Even Zenitsu looked impressed.

Inosuke growled and pointed at him. “No! I can do it! I can bury more bodies than you ever could!” And with that, he ran off back into the estate. With him hard at work, we got everyone buried properly. Paying one last bit of respect, we turned to leave. In the distance, Inosuke was rushing head-first into trees. Tanjirou’s crow circled above us, calling out and shocking the children.

“Go down the mountain!”

“Is that crow really talking?” Shoichi asked.

“Crows actually have higher intelligence than most people believe. It’s very possible.” I smiled down at him. He nodded in thought.

We walked for another 10 minutes before the path split and the three siblings took the left. They bowed and thanked us for escorting them down. Zenitsu caused a scene, dragging Shouichi down, and begging him not to leave us. After some convincing, we pulled him off and went our separate ways once the crow handed the ward to the kid. As soon as they were out of sight, Inosuke began to pick another fight with Tanjirou.

“Come! Fight me, you!” He pointed at the redhead. I groaned inwardly.

“Dude, can’t you calm down?” I poked my finger into his forehead, pushing him back.

“You! Weak woman, fight me as well!”

Ticked, Tanjirou spoke up again. “We have names you know! I’m Kamado Tanjirou, and this is Agatsuma Zenitsu and [Y/N]!” Inosuke laughed at this.

“Alright, Gonpachiro Kamaboko! I’ll beat you.” He stated seriously. Zenitsu and I could help it and laugh.

"Excuse me, who? I don’t know who you’re talking about!” Tanjirou whined.

“You! Gonpachiro!” In response to this, Tanjirou retorted with his proper name.

I sighed. “This is exciting.”

Shortly after that argument, we came to a gate with a Wisteria crest on it. I marveled at the size of it as the crow came back within distance and landed on Tanjirou. “Rest! Anyone who was injured, rest!” Tanjirou raised a brow, skeptical of the crow's comment.

“Huh, what about earlier when I was fighting with my broken rib and leg from the mission before?!” The crow looked sheepish and let out a dry cough. Inosuke popped up on the other side of him and grasped his tail, holding him up.

“Let’s eat him.” I gagged at the idea of it, and the crow itself screamed in discontent, flapping to get away.

The gate creaked open and an elder woman stepped through, a warm smile on her face. “Hello, welcome. You guys are demon slayers, right?” There were glances my way before they curtly nodded. Well, except for Inosuke.

He stood beside her, poking a finger into the side of her head. “What are you? A demon? Huh?? You look weak.” Steam escapes through his mask.

“Rude!” Tanjirou exclaimed, but the old lady seemed unbothered.

“Please, come in.” She turned to the side and entered the gates, walking ahead at an alarming pace. In hopes of keeping up, I quickly scrambled after her, and the others followed shortly. She led us to one room and gestured inside. The boys entered and before I could step foot, she stopped me. “Here, I have a separate room for you to change in.” Huh, understandable. She led me not too far down the hall to another room and handed me a clean yukata. It was just white with a faint, generic pattern in it. So simple. “When you’re done, you can come back down the hall to the left and I’ll have food prepared.” I nodded and she left before I could say thank you.

Once I had changed and put my scuffed-up clothes to the side, I stepped out into the hall. It was empty, except for the faint noises coming from Tanjirou and the others. I honestly didn’t know where I was going, but I didn’t worry too much as I had the sound of their voices to follow. I came up to a lit-up room with a crack in the door. I pushed it open to reveal four sets of food, Tanjirou and Inosuke were sitting next to each other while Zenitsu had the empty spot reserved beside him, waving me down. I tentatively took a seat beside him, causing him to squeal.

I picked up my chopped sticks and tried some of the food, a little clumsily, might I add. I liked most of it and picked around a few parts I didn’t quite enjoy. Across from me, Inosuke had his boar head off, eating away at his food with his hands. Huh, I wonder if they’ll care if I do the same. One day if I get tired of it, I’ll break down and do it, too. “She’s a monster!” He shovels a mouthful of rice and shrimp in his mouth and begins to speak again. “Granny’s a monster! She does things too fast!” Tanjirou recoils in disgust.

“Use your chopsticks!” Inosuke stops for a moment and grins before snatching some of his food off his plate. Zenitsu was clearly bothered at the sight, but kept his mouth shut in fear of falling victim, as well, I’m sure. Tanjirou went to put some more of his food on Inosuke’s plate, but I stopped him and proceeded to place what I had left on my plate on his. Honestly, it was mostly the things I didn’t like from the selection, so it wasn’t a loss for me. “Oh, I wouldn’t have minded, [Y/N]!”

I shrugged. “I didn’t like that anyways, might as well give it to someone who will eat it.” I took a drink of my tea. He nodded back in understanding and continued to eat. Zenitsu tugged on the sleeve of my shirt and offered his chopsticks to me.

“[Y/N]-chan! Feed me please~ I’m so tired.” I groaned and declined.

“No, thanks. I’m not interested. If Tanjirou and Inosuke can feed themselves, you can, too.” I huffed. He pouted and began to eat again, albeit dejectedly.

After everyone was finished, they went to the room they were originally in. There were three futons set up in the boy's room and I inwardly groaned. I expected this, but I’m too nervous to say anything about it so I’ll just suck it up. I walked back to my room alone and shut the door behind me. The room was scarcely decorated and a decently fluffy-looking futon was in the center of the room. I sunk into the bedding and turned over, thinking about today’s events.

[writing-till-i-am-dead]

Tav Sick Day

Genres: Fluff; Astarion angst Pairing: Astarion x Any!Reader

Everyone was waiting outside for Tav to come out of their tent. 

“What is taking them so long?” Shadowheart said. “We need to continue onward.”

Astarion sighed dramatically. “I suppose I will go check on them.”

Gale raise an eyebrow and let out a sarcastic laugh. “Haha, like we trust you to check on them?”

“Oh, get over yourself,” Astarion says, rolling his eyes. “It’s just a quick check in.”

They all seemed unsure, but Shadowheart sighed reluctantly. “Fine. But no funny business.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said, raising his hands as he walked backward into Tav’s tent. 

He looked over and saw them sprawled out in their bed, panting heavily. 

“Hmmm?” Astarion hums curiously as he walked over. “Whatever is the matter with you?”

Tav looks up at him with a slightly glare as they breathe in heavily through their nose. “I’m sick..” they grumble. 

“I can see that. I was being rhetorical.” He put a hand to their head. “Yes, you are burning up, it seems. Well, I will have to tell the others.”

“Can you tell them to not bother me? I just kind of wanna be alone right now.. my head hurts..”

“Of course, darling.”

He stepped out to the others, who turned their attention to him. 

“How’s Tav doing?” Karlach asked, concerned. 

“Oh, they are fine, quit babying them. They simply have a cold.”

They all gasped and Shadowheart took a step forward. “Allow me to aid to them! I have healing magic.”

Astarion shook his head. “They said they would only like me to take care of them,” he lied. 

“What?” Gale scoffs. “As if. Quit lying!”

“I am not lying. Ask them yourself! Though, they are in a rather sour mood due to being sick, so, you could risk them throwing a spell your way.”

Gale clenched his jaw before sighing reluctantly and backing out of the argument, crossing his arms. 

Astarion smirks before nodding. “Good. Now, I am going to go check on our ill friend.” And with that, he turned back around and reentered the tent. 

“Hello, again, dear.”

“Hngh..? Astarion..? I thought I said I wanted to be alone..”

“Oh, don’t worry, dear. I’m just here to make sure you will be ok and not drop dead.”

“No offense, but how would you be able to help? You don’t know any healing spells.”

“Yes, but I still know how to take care of someone who is ill.” He gently takes Tav’s hand into his own, a rare sign of affection. “I had to take care of myself and my own ailments for hundreds of years.. I’m sure I’d be able to help you..”

Tav still seemed hesitant before giving in. “I’m too tired to argue.”

“Splendid.. now.. how to help.. Would you like some blood, perhaps?”

“Astarion. Remember. I am not a vampire.”

“Oh. Yes, of course..” he murmured, hiding his mild embarrassment. “Hmm.. well.. that’s usually what helped me feel better..”

Tav laughed which ended with them going into a coughing fit. “Maybe Blackheart should aid me. She knows healing magic-“

“No!” he exclaimed, a hint of his possessiveness taking over. “I mean.. I have this under control..” he said a bit more calmly. 

He put his hand to their forehead, thinking for a moment. “Hm.. perhaps something cold..”

He sat up and went out the back exit of the tent, speed walking, attempting to not seem panicked or desperate. He tore off a bit of his cloak without second thought, though once he did, he was very upset. He rather liked that cloak..

That is not what matters right now.. he thought to himself as he dipped the cloth into the cold water. He squeezed out some of the water before folding it and walking back to the tent, relieved to see none of the other pesky party members had tried to sneak in. 

“Here we are, darling,” he said, placing the cloth over Tav’s forehead. 

“Oh..” they mumbled before closing their eyes, relaxed. “That actually feels really nice..”

Their breath was still very ragged, most likely clogged with phlegm. 

He leaned forward and gently began to massage their nasal passages. 

“Hngh..? What are you doing?” Tav croaked out, still delirious from their fever. 

“This is a technique I had discovered when I was young. Before I became a vampire..”

“Hmm..” 

The massaging was rather relaxing, and felt nice, so they let him continue. 

They felt the phlegm drain down, clearing out their nose and throat. 

“Wow.. thanks, Astarion. You’re pretty wise..” they joked softly. 

“Yes, well.. when you have to fend for yourself for hundreds of years, you learn a thing or two about staying healthy..”

Tav smiles drowsily, knowing he was trying hard to stay nonchalant. “Mhm..” They let out a soft yawn and turned on their side. “Now that I can breathe properly, I can probably get some proper rest now..”

“Hmm.. yes, well, I will stay in here. In case you need anything..”

Tav nods and their eyes droop close and it wasn’t long until they were snoring. 

Astarion chuckled, admiring them. But he caught himself admiring and quietly chastised himself. 

Don’t you dare catch actual feelings, Astarion! he thought. 

He sighs and rests his head into his arms, grumbling a little under his breath. 

His forbidden thoughts of pining were interrupted by a groan. 

He looked up and saw Tav twisting uncomfortably in their bedrolls as they started to wake up.

“Darling?” he says. “Are you all right?”

“My stomach started hurting for some reason..”

“Ah. Probably the phlegm reaching your stomach..”

“Do you have any wise tips to help with this?”

“Well, I find that chewing on mint leaves often helps for me.”

“Do you have mint leaves?”

“No.. and I don’t think there are any around here..”

Tav let out a long, pained groan. 

Astarion started to feel a little bad. He couldn’t help Tav. Would they hate him? He is here to help them! He can’t even do that right! Will they never want him taking care of them again? How can he help them?

“Can you just..” Tav said softly, their voice strained. “maybe hold me?”

“…Huh?”

“Hold me? It’s something I find helps when I have bad stomach ulcers.. and, I dunno.. maybe it’ll be the same for this?”

The idea of holding Tav seemed to terrify Astarion. That level of closeness for something so.. wholesome? It had to be some sort of ruse. 

But.. no. He saw their pained face. 

He scooted closer and wrapped his arms around their waist. 

Being close for something nonsexual felt so strangely foreign. But it was.. nice. 

He never had anyone there to hold him like this when he was hurting, suffering. So, being able to be there for Tav.. well, originally, the idea would’ve disgusted him. Why should they have comfort when he never received any? But.. now….

He rubbed his hand along Tav’s stomach and sighed contently. 

He rather liked being able to give them what he never had. No jealousy, no bitterness, no secret agenda behind it. 

Just genuine care. 

Hm..

Care. 

That was so unfamiliar to him. But that was definitely what he was feeling. Care.

He felt Tav melt into his embrace and grumble softly, still in slight pain, but feeling a bit better. 

He was.. happy. 

Happy he got to be the one to aid Tav, happy that he was able to help (wow, he was happy to make someone else happy. What was happening to him?)

But most of all. 

He liked holding Tav like this. 

Though, of course, he will never say this outloud. Ever. 

…

By the time the next day arrived, Astarion had not gotten a wink of sleep. He was nocturnal and starving from not getting to drink any blood the day before, too busy taking care of Tav. 

Speaking of Tav, they seemed to be feeling much better, standing and stretching. 

“I told the others that mint leaves should be able to help and they went out searching and brought me some!” they said, popping a leaf into their mouth. 

“Ah.. well, I’m happy about that..”

“We should be able to keep traveling, as long as I don’t overexert myself. So if we get into battle, I’ll need to hide.”

“Yes, well, if that should come, I will help you with that.”

“Thanks, Astarion. Cmon. The others are outside waiting for us.”

Before they had a chance to step out, he quickly wrapped his arms around them from behind. 

“Huh! A..Astarion..?”

“Apologies.. just.. checking to see if you are all better..” he lied. In truth, he wanted one finale taste of alone time with them… like this.. Tav to himself.. He has never experienced wholesome affection before. He just wanted one last bit of it. 

He eventually let them go. 

“Yes, it seems you are doing better. You heal fast!”

They smiled at him gratefully. “Thanks Astarion. Now cmon.”

They turned from him and left the tent. 

He watched them leave, dejected and longingly before he pulled himself together. 

Quit being so soft, Astarion. This is not you. You are not weak..

He stepped out and saw Tav with the others, everyone surrounding them and checking on them worryingly. 

You are not… weak… he thought again, burying his aching, jealous heart. 

Divider by @cold--carnage

[starcrossedxwriter]

Unbreakable Part 1 (Erik Killmonger x OC)

A/N: here is the summary for our new story! Enjoyyyyyy!

Warnings: This is an AU with bits of the movie and the comics mixed together

“Fuck! J-Just like that.” Naja screwed her face up in one that gave the impression of a woman lost in the throes of pleasure, internally rolling her eyes at the haphazard thrusts of the man on top of her. 

In fact, she was merely counting down the minutes until he came and would leave. She supposed the time was good to clear her mind and reminisce.

There was that guy from London, her brain immediately recalled.

He was her favorite one-night stand to think about when she needed an extra boost to get off. Now, that man was gorgeous and he fucked like a God. She actually felt a tinge of guilt when, after he made her cum for hours, she returned the favor by torturing him for hours… and not in a pleasurable way. To his credit, he lasted a long time, which earned her respect. 

I hope he is doing ok, she thought to herself. Well, she knew he wasn’t. But had he just given up his supplier of stolen vibranium faster, he’d likely be doing better. 

“You like that??” He demanded as he fucked into her like a jack rabbit. No finesse, no skill, no care. He did not even ensure her needs were met. 

That’s ok, she decided. If his fucking was any indication of his skills in other activities, he was actually doing her and her pussy a favor. 

“Yes, I love it!” She called out, cringing at her own voice. She faked her orgasm to finish the ordeal faster. 

Anytime now, Bast, she called out to the god above. This was getting irksome. 

It seemed Bast heard her calls and blessed her, the man finally cumming and filling her. She silently thanked Wakanda for the painless, side effect free birth control that would last her five years. 

He rolled off of her, his chest heaving slightly while Naja was wholly unruffled aside from a thin layer of sweat. 

“That was… something,” she offered with a fake smile, a content and pompous smile he did not deserve forming on his lips. 

The male ego, she shook her head as she slid out of bed and threw a robe on. After returning from the bathroom, she was surprised to find him still lounging in her bed. Most of her night time companions knew the rules… no one stayed the night. But this one, Kofi…

No, this is Kwame, she thought to herself. 

No… Kwame actually knows how to fuck you. Or at least, attempts to make you cum even if he doesn’t succeed. Kwame gets an A for effort. Is there a grade lower than F we can give this one? Maybe it’s Amari? She tilted her head as she studied him. Hell, she did not know who he was but she did know one thing: he clearly did not know when to get the fuck out. 

“Ok well, this was fun but I should be heading to bed,” her tone was polite but left little room for negotiation. She gathered his clothes with lightning speed and tossed them onto his lap.

He pushed himself up onto her forearms. “Wait, you serious?” 

She stared at him, a dead panned expression painted on her face. “Yea. I sleep alone. I had fun though,” she lied with ease and a smile. 

“Oh… ok.” He started gathering his clothes, Naja wholly unmoved by the hurt glimmering in his eyes. “When will I see you again?” 

“I’m at the bar… working every night,” she handed him his shoes to speed the process along. The sooner he was gone, the sooner she could pull out her vibrator and actually service the ache between her legs. 

“So we can do this again sometime?” He asked as she shooed him toward the door. 

“Definitely, definitely. I’ll call you. Get home safe.” She pushed him out of her front door, locking and dead bolting it behind her. 

She rolled her eyes before returning up the stairs to her bedroom. She did not know why she even bothered. Every time she brought a man home after her shift, she knew they would likely not be able to please her. But she allowed them into her bed anyway. Fucking, even if it was lackluster, filled some void.

She settled into bed, about to pull out her trusted and faithful bullet when her phone rang. She groaned, glancing at her phone. 

Dayo. Her boss. 

“It is offensive to call someone this late, Dayo.” She chastised as she settled into bed. 

“I gave you an hour. I assume your suitor has returned home?” 

“He just left. What’s wrong?” 

He sighed. “Another child went missing in the village tonight.”  

Her heart sank. “That’s the 15th child in the last three months. Soldiers?” 

At his silence, she let out a frustrated groan. “The family?” 

“Devastated but not talking. They won’t admit it was the King’s men, which means they were threatened. The father tried to fight back and was killed. The mother had to be taken to the hospital, she was distraught and collapsed.” 

“FUCK!” She paced up and down her bedroom, the wood panels of her floor creaking softly. 

“I just wish we knew why he was targeting this village specifically. I reached out to the network across the rest of the city and the country and nothing like this is happening elsewhere.” 

She shrugged. “This is the poorest village in the Capitol. It’s like child soldiers across the continent and trafficking across the world. You steal people from those who do not have the resources and means to fight for their return. The King maintains his throne and his games with intimidation and violence. We will find them, Dayo, and we will liberate our people. I promise. I will talk to you tomorrow. Let me know if the family needs anything, I can try to go to the markets tomorrow night during my shift.” 

“Everyone needs everything, Malika. Thank you for doing what you can. For the liberation of Niganda.” 

“For the liberation of Niganda. Good night, Dayo.” 

She sighed, the ache between her legs vanishing completely. She grabbed her kimoyo beads and went over to the plain, nondescript wall across from her bed. She pressed the beads to a circular groove in the wood, both lighting up a mysterious shade of light blue. She glanced over her shoulder, as if someone were watching her, as the wall parted to reveal a walk-in closet.

However, this closet was filled with more than just clothes. It was a small arsenal. Spears, blades of all shapes and varieties, guns of equal diversity, even a bow and arrow, which she never got to use but she liked the look of it. And clothes. All black, fashioned to hide a many assortment of weapons in the oddest places, laced with vibranium to protect her body. She missed donning those clothes. And while those days might be over, the cache of weapons she maintained proved that some habits never died. 

She pulled a duffle bag out of the back of the closet, the bag filled with passports, Nigandan currency, and Wakandan dollars. She pulled out a notebook she kept stashed under everything else. She flipped through it, each page filled with notes from her years in Niganda. The last 20 pages or so were each numbered with the name and # of a child. Her notes, witness accounts, leads. All of it jotted down on those pages, a complex map that helped her get no where closer to find in those children.

She did not know #15’s name yet but when she learned it, their name would join their number on the page. She wrote down the bit of information Dayo shared, figuring she could fill it out more tomorrow after she spoke with him in person. 

All these children, all these souls lost. And no one seemed concerned or like they cared, no one willing to risk their lives to find them and save them. No one except those in the Nigandan Liberation Front. Dayo was their leader and he was committed as anyone to overthrow the tyrant that ruled over this country. 

Her writing was interrupted by a ping from her kimoyo beads. 

“Damn, can no one leave me the fuck alone?” She wondered aloud. However, she knew if someone was calling this line, it was important. No one from Wakanda ever bothered her unless there was news to share. 

She knew it would be an encrypted and recorded message, it was too risky to ever call her and expect her to answer. She checked her beads once a week at different times and intervals, usually there was nothing there. 

Shuri’s upper half materialized from the beads. Her voice was professional and calm, very unlike her. 

“Malika, please return home. The Royal Talon will be waiting for you on the other side of the Nigandan-Cannan border at the following coordinates at 2 a.m. in seven days. Your presence has been requested in Wakanda for two months by order of the King. Please confirm that you received this message.” 

“Anddddd this is why I never check this fuckin’ thing,” she mumbled, frustration coursing through her. 

Two months??? The power of the throne had clearly gone to T’Challa’s head. And only giving her one week to prepare to leave? And how many children, she glanced at the photos in her book of each one, would go missing in that time? How many families would be torn apart while she stayed in the safe bosom of Wakanda?

She hated herself for knowing she had to go, hated him for forcing her hand. He knew how she felt about that place, knew why she had chosen the path and life she had chosen. Why she had only stepped foot in her borders twice in the last seven years. But an order from the King was an order from the King, she took liberties but even she could not refuse him. 

As she laid in bed, frustrated, her mind already churned on what lie she could tell everyone to explain a two-month absence. She had already laid the groundwork for relatives in South Africa. Perhaps she could use that. 

“Ugh!” She now only had a week to get everything in order. “Every King on this bast-forsaken continent is a tyrant,” she mumbled to herself before flopping to her side to try to sleep. 

***

When Naja stepped off the Talon, she was thankful to only find General Okoye waiting for her, her stoic face a sight for sore eyes. She was thankful the rest of the family remembered she hated the excessive fanfare of returning home and immediately being pestered by a million people. It had been a long time since she saw many of them so she figured a certain King would ignore that directive. But she was thankful to have a moment to ease into seeing everyone. It was already an adjustment, as it always was to be back on Wakandan soil in the first place. It still felt new, every time, even though this was technically her home. It did not feel like home to her, not anymore. 

“General,” her lips tugged into the smallest of smiles as she saluted her old friend. It was the first genuine smile she could remember giving someone in months. There was little happening in Niganda worth smiling about anyway and when she did, it was usually fake. 

“Naja.” Once Okoye returned her salute, she reached out and squeezed Naja’s hand, Naja returning it gently, before their faces returned to their usual stoic and neutral expressions. “I trust your journey was well.” 

“It was. Though it was difficult to spin my absence on such short notice. Do you know why the King saw it to order me home?” 

“No.” 

Her answer was simple, and Naja knew, untrue. Okoye was one of two people in this palace privy to all of the King’s decisions and thoughts. But she also knew Okoye would not give her a single inch. It was worth a shot though, she reasoned. But it also let her know the reason was not straightforward, which meant her nap in her quarters would have to wait. 

“Of course. May you take me to his office if he is not too busy? I know the way to my room from there.”  

Okoye did not nod or answer her. She merely changed the direction of their walk through the palace toward T’Challa’s office. Naja tried not to get too wrapped up in the bustling movement and sounds of the palace. The last time she was here, it felt more like a ghost town than anything else, lifeless and dreary. Wakanda had weathered the Blip better than most countries but it still struggled and during those five years, the palace wore the scars of its lost King and Princess and half its population. But with their return, life and joy returned to the palace and all of Wakanda. She was happy for it. They all deserved it, to be whole again. 

She did not let the facade she had on fall until Okoye opened the door to T’Challa’s office, her brother in law sitting behind his desk reading. He glanced up, a wide smile gracing his tired but ever youthful features, as his eyes landed on Naja. He immediately stood up, joy rippling off of him like waves. One thing she always appreciated about T’Challa was, even when he and Nakia were not together, he treated her like a younger sister. A colder one than the one he actually had but a sister nonetheless. 

“Thank you, General. Naja, welcome home.” 

“My king,” she saluted him. She waited for the firm click of the door closing behind Okoye before she offered him a smirk. “My king summons, I answer.”

“No need for the formalities, sister. And I know you despise hugs. But it has been 7 years, humor me?” He rounded the desk to stand before her. 

“I was told the Blip only felt like minutes to those of you who were gone. So technically, for you, it has only been two years. But as my king, I suppose you make the rules. You get seven seconds.” At his raised eyebrow, she shrugged. “One for each year.” 

She allowed herself to be gathered up in his arms, the man squeezing tight. She forced herself not to fall into it, though she wanted to. The warm embrace of family, she had missed it. But instead, she merely cleared her throat, letting him know the timer on their emotional reunion had indeed run out. 

To his credit, he immediately released her, his hands holding onto her forearms as he took a step back to examine her. She chuckled and rolled her eyes as he attempted to inspect her form for any injuries or drastic changes that would worry his Queen. Seven years might have passed since she last laid eyes on T’Challa at his coronation but time had done little to change either of them.  

“You look well. Thin,” he remarked. “But well. How are you?” 

“Glory to Bast, I am in good health,” she offered lazily as she sat in the seat opposite of his desk. She tried not to look at the pictures that littered the office, keeping her eyes trained on him, knowing she would find more than one that featured him. She did not need or want to see him ever again.  “Food in the Capitol has been sparse since the return of everyone from the Blip.”

“Do you need more money? I know the alias and job you chose does not offer much.” 

She shook her head. In addition to the money she made at the bar she worked at, all War Dogs received a salary discreetly added into their accounts disguised as local side jobs and businesses. She had more than enough money. 

“No, no, no. Thanks to you, I am the world’s richest bartender. Just the monarchy hoarding resources, there is more than enough to go around for the wealthy. And the black markets continue to thrive there under the King’s nose but what I usually get from there, I give to those who need it more,” she shrugged. “I’m good. I’ve survived on less.”  

“Anything of note on those black markets?” 

She tilted her head before shaking it, T’Challa’s shoulders sagging a bit. “Aside from delicious meats and vegetables the royals have now deemed delicacies? No.” 

“Well, make sure to eat two plates at dinner. Or else your sister will not rest tonight.” 

She nodded. “Two plates? That feels gluttonous. Though I suppose I need to reacclimate to this… abundance,” her eyes flickered to the obvious signs of wealth and prestige littering his office. A pang of guilt hit her for even being able to indulge in it. “So I’m sure Nakia will make it her mission to fatten me up before I return home. So are you going to tell me why you’ve grounded me for two months? I hope it’s a good reason. Do you know how hard it will be to explain a two-month disappearance?” 

T’Challa’s deep chuckle filled the office as he sat back in his chair. “Only you would consider a vacation and a bit of time off a punishment.” 

She scoffed. “It is hardly a vacation when it comes as a direct order from my King himself, one he knows very well I would never refuse.”

“You could refuse.” His eyes twinkled with humor as he handed her a glass of Wakandan rum, the one thing he knew she missed from home.

“And face the wrath of the Black Panther?” She shook her head, throwing the entire glass back in one gulp before sighing contently. She slid the glass across the desk, gesturing toward the decanter, T’Challa refilling it for her. “The people outside these walls may call me ongenaloyiko* (the fearless one) but I am still smart enough to fear the greatest warrior in all Wakanda. But as your elder,” she started to say with a wink that she knew would agitate him. 

“You may have surpassed me in years thanks to the Blip, dear Naja, but you are still my younger sister always,” he reminded her. 

“Then tell me why you brought me back. Niganda is in a precarious place right now… things are… brewing. This is a long time to be gone.” 

He raised an eyebrow. “The other War Dogs in the region report no issues. Remember, Naja…” 

She sighed. “I know, I know. No interfering and we only care about things that threaten the interests of Wakanda. I’m being a good leashed watch dog now, I promise.” She knew she was not off to a good start, lying to him so soon. But she hated the new role expected of them. To witness the suffering of the world but do nothing to help. The other War Dogs in Niganda may be fine with such an existence but one thing she had in common with her sister, Naja would always do whatever she could, as long as life pumped in her veins.

“Good.” She was surprised he believed her. “I brought you back for many reasons. The first and most important being that your sister is pregnant,” Naja’s eyes widened. “And due any day now and she has spoken of what a great support you were during the birth of Prince T’Challa while I was…” 

“Fake dead,” she supplied. She knew the Blip was not a laughing matter. It was traumatic for those gone and those who were forced to stay and carry on. But they had all survived, she saw little point in dwelling on it. 

“Yes. And I knew she would be happy to have you here for the birth and a bit of time afterward as well. Second, you have a nephew that is growing day after day and barely knows you. I did not know my uncle before he died. You can understand that I would prefer for history not to repeat itself.” 

“Don’t worry, I wasn’t planning on stealing vibranium and selling it to the highest bidder while I’m here,” she mumbled as her thumb traced patterns in the condensation of her glass, trying to stay aloof at the mention of his father. 

“I’m serious, Naja. The War Dog program is important but N’Jobu taught me that it is not more important than family and connection. And third, I am hoping that some time back here will give you some perspective and perhaps… change your position on certain matters.” 

She scoffed, standing up to pace his office. She was dressed simply, far too simply to address the King some would argue. But there were perks to her position and her reputation, no one would correct her. Her standard soft black pants and tank top provided comfort and agility and ensured she never stood out. Tucked into her waist band was a gun, she had forgotten to remove it on the plane. Though she felt safer with it, even here, on her person. She had left her other weapons at home, her calf felt uncomfortably bare without her blade attached to it.

“And there it is. So just so I understand the rules of engagement. Are you speaking to me now as my King or as my brother?” 

“I speak to you as your brother, Naja, always.” 

“Except when you ordered me home,” she muttered as she leaned against the window sill, her eyes starting into the heart of the capital city. A small part of her ached. She’d never admit it aloud but she did miss it sometimes. She had tried for so long to find something like it but nothing compared to Wakanda. She ignored that, pushing it into the depths where she stored every other feeling she did not want to deal with. 

“You may reject the displays of our love and affection but it will stop none of us from giving it or caring for you.” 

“I am happy with how things are now, T’Challa. I have no interest in changing my position on certain matters.” 

“We are entering peace talks with Niganda, and while you do not trust them -” 

“I do not trust them because they are untrustworthy,” she cut him off sharply. “I’m the best War Dog you have there. You’d do well to heed my warnings where the Nigandans are concerned.” 

“If these negotiations go well, there is an opportunity for you to consider a position that is here in Wakanda. You are the best War Dog I have in any country on this planet, Naja. But it’s been 15 years. We have other War Dogs stationed in Niganda now, thanks to you, who can ensure the peace treaty is adhered to. You can come home.” 

“Those other War Dogs don’t know what they are doing. And… This is not my home, T’Challa,” she muttered. 

“You can spend as much time as you want away from our borders and pretend to be Malika, a lowly Nigandan bartender all you want. But you will always be Wakandan, Wakanda will always be home.” 

“And the best way for me to honor Wakanda is by doing what I have always done: serve her. Protect her interests. In Niganda.” 

She and T’Challa stared at each other for a few moments. While most would have withered under the intense gaze of their king, Naja did no such thing. It was T’Challa who finally broke their standoff, bowing his head as if to signal his surrender. 

“For your sister’s sake, I ask that you merely consider it. She misses you terribly. And not just your physical absence. She misses who you were.” 

She rolled her eyes and chuckled as she walked back over to his desk. Her eyes fell on a picture of T’Challa, Nakia, and their son. She picked up the frame, her fingers grazing along the patterns surrounding their smiling faces.  

“Who I was is of little consequence now, T’Challa. This is who I am. It’s been 15 years and my sister would do well to accept this version of me. Wakanda and I are better for it anyway. Does she know I’m here?” 

“No, it is a surprise for dinner tonight.” 

She sucked her teeth before nodding. “Fine. I will serve out my two month sentence - without complaint - and I will not tell her of your clever but well-intentioned manipulation to force me here. But I say this with all the love and reverence for you as my brother and my King, when these two months are up, I will return to Niganda with or without your approval. Are we clear?” 

Few could talk to T’Challa as she did or had the privilege to make demands. But when Naja spoke, T’Challa listened. “Crystal clear. It is good to have you home, sister. We missed your bubbly personality and disposition around here.” 

“It is good to see you too, T’Challa. Congrats on the new baby. Next time you want to send me encrypted messages, send me good news like that. I’m going to lay down until dinner.” 

“Naja!” 

She stopped and turned around to face him once more. 

“I recognize, accept, and love who you are now. But I would push back on one point.” At her raised eyebrow, he continued, “Wakanda is served well by every version of you because you love her and she loves you back. This version of you is extraordinary. But better implies there was something wrong with the equally extraordinary version of you from before. And there wasn’t.” 

Something pricked the back of her eyes as she turned away from him, a sting she despised about as much as physical affection. 

“This is why I hate coming back,” she huffed. “Tell anyone my eyes so much as misted and I’ll kill you in your sleep.” 

He chuckled. “Bast’s fiercest warrior and daughter never cries. Even if my eyes witnessed such a feat, I would not know the words to share it with a soul.” 

She smiled before exiting his office, immediately swallowing the emotion she felt. She hated how out of sorts she felt being back here. Seeing T’Challa in the flesh again after seven long years, the emotions of being back here in this home and in this city, finding out her sister was pregnant, the emotional exhaustion of switching from her alias back to Naja… this was why she preferred to be alone when she first got home. Had not been on Wakandan soil for an hour and she had already been through a rollercoaster of emotions. 

Naja moved through the halls silently and swiftly, moving like a panther herself to ensure she did not run into her sister. Though she was not happy about being forced to return, she was excited to see her sister and her nephew. Though Nakia still treated her like a fragile dove, her sister loved her beyond comparison and reason. 

When she finally found her way to her room, she stripped down and curled into bed immediately. A content sigh slipped from her lips as she settled into the comfort of the soft mattress and linens. The room was obscene, triple the size of her home in Niganda. It was home to her and served her needs but it left much to be desired compared to what she left behind. 

Don’t get used to it, she thought to herself as she already started to drift off to sleep. Two months and then we’re out of here.

***

Naja yawned deeply as she rushed to dinner, realizing she was several minutes late. She hated that T’Challa was right, per usual. 

A break from life as a spy was not so bad. She did not know how to relax and rest but her body seemed determined to ensure she did it. She slept like a rock, a call from T’Challa 10 minutes past dinnertime was the only thing to jolt her from her sleep. 

She paused outside the family dining room, her heart warming as she heard her nephew spitting rapid fire questions at his parents about training. Her sister’s voice filled the room. 

“Will you teach your sister how to train when she’s old enough?” She heard Nakia ask. 

TJ’s small voice responded. “Would that be safe for her? I don’t want her to get hurt like I do.” 

“As safe as it is for any Wakandan,” Naja offered with a teasing smile as she rounded the corner. 

“Auntie Naja!!” TJ sprung from his seat with the strength of a cannon and ran into her outstretched arms. “I missed you!” 

“My prince!! You are getting taller and taller every day!” She tickled his sides, his giggles filling the dining room and everyone’s hearts with warmth. “And when you’re training that little one in a few years, you should remember what my baba always told us. Our battle scars are our strength, our power, and…” 

“A reminder from Bast that we lived another day to serve Wakanda,” TJ finished, reciting the words Nakia and Naja’s father always said. 

She cradled him against her chest for a moment once more before letting him go, his small hand gripping around hers to drag her farther into the room. 

“Now why doesn’t he have a time limit on your affection?” T’Challa’s voice was filled with fake indignation. 

She merely shrugged as TJ demanded she take the open seat next to him. 

“I simply like him better than you.” 

However, before she sat, she rounded the table to her sister. 

“Sister. No, don’t get up,” she cautioned as Nakia started to move. The hug she bestowed was longer than most would receive but she could tell by the unshed tears in Nakia’s eyes that she needed it. She cradled one hand to Nakia’s cheek before the other rested on her belly. “How are you? And how is my future niece, Wakanda’s next great warrior?” 

“We are both well, even better now that you are here. You’re so thin.” She tsked slightly, T’Challa and Naja sharing a knowing glance and chuckle. “You need to catch me up on everything. But first sit. Eat.” 

As she returned to her seat, she watched as a silent conversation passed between her King and Queen. Though Nakia’s face appeared happy, there was something brewing beneath the surface. She could sense the anger passing through her to T’Challa, a guilty look plastered on his face. She watched as he busied himself with his own plate to avoid her glare. 

She did not know what to make of it as she piled food on her plate, she could not deny she was starving. However, she realized the reason for that silent conversation quickly as two voices grew louder and louder as they moved toward the dining room.

“If you had just listened to me, we wouldn’t have been late! Your elementary knowledge of nanotech is useless. I could’ve finished it in an hour if you hadn’t been there mansplaining,” Shuri ranted as she rounded the corner into the kitchen. She was so frustrated she did not even notice Naja at the table or acknowledge her. 

“Aye! I went to MIT, short bit,” a sharp American voice filled the space, Naja’s blood turning to ice water, her head whipping toward the door so fiercely she could have broken her own neck. She felt as if her heart completely stopped as she watched Prince N’Jadaka enter the dining room. “That shit’s hardly element-” his words immediately fell off as his eyes fell on Naja, his entire body paralyzed in mid step. 

The pair merely stared at each other, the dining room rapidly filling with tension so severe even the staff ceased moving. And only four people, save the Prince and Naja, knew the source of that tension. Her body did not move an inch, her fork still hovering in the space above her plate as indescribable rage took control of every cell in her body. She could feel it deep in her bones, 15 years worth of pain she had buried warped into a monster. Her nephew’s presence mere inches from her were the only calming presence she could feel, the only thing keeping everything from boiling over. 

“Well… this is painfully awkward,” Shuri muttered as she sat down in her seat next to the Queen Mother. “W-Welcome home, Naja.” 

She cleared her throat, an even and cold timbre falling on her voice. No longer did Naja, the sister and friend, sit at the table. Naja, the spy, with her iron clad facade sat before them. Cold, unfeeling, ruthless. Unbreakable, she reminded herself. That was the weapon she had fashioned herself into. That was who she was now. And she was better for it. 

“Thank you, Princess. I am happy you are back and well. I see much has changed since my last visit. Erik.” 

He had started to make his way to his own seat but stilled at the sound of his American name. It was the name he had gone by his entire time in Wakanda when he moved here as a child after his father’s death. Prince Erik, preferably just Erik, he forced everyone to call him. But Naja… she was the one person aside from T’Challa he allowed to call him by his Wakandan name. She knew he had once loved hearing her say it as much as she loved to say it. She knew the dig, however coded it was, hit its mark, a part of her savored in the hurt that crossed his face. 

“I prefer N’Jadaka,” he offered as he sat down in the last open seat directly across from her, which only increased her anger. 

“Hmm… So you have returned to Wakanda for the birth as well, Erik?” She asked, ignoring his preference. She would never call him N’Jadaka or prince again. She did not care if the whole damn country referred to him as such. 

He sucked his teeth. “Nah. I’ve been back for months… I owed T and Wakanda a favor so I’m home for good, helpin’ rebuild after everythin’.” 

The entire table seemed to shift as rage wafted off Naja. She cut her eyes from Erik to T’Challa, the rest of the room falling away as she threw him a glare that made him thankful the heart-shaped herb ran through his veins. However, beneath that glare, T’Challa knew it masked hurt and one question only he and Nakia could likely decipher. 

How could you? 

“I have suddenly lost my appetite. Sister, I will check in on you in the morning. Good night.” Her fork loudly clanked against the dinner china before she rose from the table. She ignored the calls of her sister and T’Challa for her to stay as she turned to leave. She slowed herself just enough to kiss her nephew on the forehead briefly before exiting without a second glance.

He was home… How could T’Challa not tell her? Tell her that she would be living under the same roof as him for months? Did he consider her too fragile for such knowledge? That her feeble, weak mind would collapse or fall apart? Those days were behind her. 

She had turned all that hurt and pain into fuel, it drove her and pushed her. And now here he was, and all that hurt she suppressed for 15 years, all of that was back with one look at his face. She hated him, despised him. She did not want to look at him, much less sit across from him at every meal for the next two months. 

She could not do it. Fuck the King’s commands. She was returning to Niganda tonight. Even if she had to hitch hike the entire way. 

She was so wrapped up in her escape plan that she did not hear the footsteps behind her until she felt a presence directly on her back. Without thought, she pulled out the gun still tucked in her waistband and cocked it, aiming it directly at… T’Challa. 

She ignored the bang of the Doras’ spears on the ground as she kept the gun aimed at him. She was thankful it was just him. That was the one thing she did not enjoy about her life as a spy, her instincts were too difficult to turn off now. 

“Still ever vigilant, I see?” T’Challa raised his hand to the Dora, silently ordering them to stand down, wholly unperturbed at having a gun pointed at his chest. 

“Well, you never know when someone’s gonna betray you,” she spat with venom that made him flinch.

“I understand you’re upset...” 

“You understand nothing,” she seethed, taking a step toward him. She lowered the gun, the weapon shaking in her hand. “I understand that you knew I would not agree to return if I knew he was here so instead of telling me of the birth and asking me to return, you forced my hand. I understand that you used your title and my love for my sister as manipulation to force a reconciliation. It. Is. Not. Happening.” 

“You cannot avoid him forever. You are both part of this family.” 

She paced, agitated and frustrated. “I can and will avoid him forever. Because if I don’t, I will use his body to test out the multitude of ways I know how to kill someone.. I can’t believe you didn’t warn me he was here.” 

“I am sorry. I thought it would help but I was wrong.” He sighed before gesturing at the gun. “Will it help?” 

She thought about it and nodded. 

The black fibers of his suit emerged and covered his whole body. With perfect precision, she shot him over and over again, emptying her clip until his suit was bright purple with the stored kinetic energy of each bullet. The loud bangs reverberated through the halls, her eardrums rattled. 

“Better?” He asked when she finally lowered the gun and tucked it back in its hiding spot.

“Yes… and no. You’re still able to talk,” she muttered. Though shooting something did take the edge of her anger off. 

“I am sorry for deceiving you. You are right, I knew you would not return if you knew Erik had returned home permanently. But your sister… and I… we need you here. I know what he did, the pain he caused you. And if you do not speak to him ever again, you would be within your right. But I ask very little of you, Naja. And right now, I am asking you to stay here,” Naja was annoyed that he somehow already realized she was going to run back home. “And endure for us. Two months and then you can leave and I will not utter a word to convince you to stay. I promise.”  

She nodded. “Fine. But just so you know, any ill conceived notion you had of me returning to this country for good? That is gone now. As long as Erik Stevens calls Wakanda home, I never will.” She turned on her heels and disappeared down the hall, leaving T’Challa alone surrounded by shell casings. 

She only paused when she heard him yell back, “I’ll have dinner sent to your room. Please eat or your sister will kill me.” 

She scoffed. “That’s not reason enough,” she called back. Though they both knew she would eat whatever was brought to her. 

***

Unlike Naja, Erik was able to hide his emotions a tad bit better and hold it together through dinner. However, his emotions did not include rage, except for toward T’Challa. All he had felt at dinner was the hot, uncomfortable spotlight of guilt and shame. What he had done, he’d never forgive himself. And any stupid notion he once had that Naja could forgive him one day was wiped out in a manner of minutes. 

“What the fuck, T?” Erik demanded as he stormed into T’Challa’s office, the King nursing a glass of rum as he continued to work. 

“Your ex already shot me several times this evening, figuratively and literally. So go easy on me, N’Jadaka.” 

“You told me she didn’t ever come back to Wakanda? That she moved on??

T’Challa shrugged. “Those things are not untrue. Naja is a War Dog stationed in Niganda,” he admitted. “You wanted nothing to do with Wakanda once you left and worked for the US Government so I could not reveal War Dog identities to you. And when you came back, I thought it best that she remain out of sight and out of mind.” 

Erik’s eyes grew wide. “W-wait, w-wait… a watch and report back War Dog or a Hatut Zeraze-era War Dog?” 

There was a distinction, one only a precious few in the country knew. For most, the War Dogs were merely spies, a Wakandan-style CIA force that watched, patiently integrating themselves into their host country’s world to report back critical information to protect Wakanda. However, past kings used a specialized force of them for other purposes, ones the average Wakandan knew nothing of, purposes that actually kept Wakanda safe and protected all these years. 

T’Challa sighed and rubbed his eyes. “The latter until my coronation. She was handpicked during training by my father, and worked her way up to leading missions across the continent and beyond.” 

Erik scoffed. “Missions… I know what missions mean. Assassinations, torture.”

T’Challa tilted his head. “None that we would ever admit to.  She is stationed in Niganda 90% of the time unless my father needed her for another assignment. When I became king, I disbanded that portion of the War Dogs and she has been our lead War Dog in Niganda ever since.” 

The stinging heat of anger and fear prickled his brain. The Naja he remembered was soft, not in a bad way either. You wanted to lean into her and soak up her warmth. It was comforting and soothing. However, he knew first hand the things she would have had to do to be part of that specialized force. And he would not wish the damage all that had done to his own soul on anyone else, least of all her. 

“’N you didn’t think to tell a nigga she was comin’?” 

“I thought 15 years was enough time for you both to move past everything that transpired. Clearly I was wrong.” 

“She still hates me?” 

T’Challa scoffed. “Is there a word stronger than hate? Because that may be more accurate.” He paused. “Do you still feel guilty?” 

Erik merely nodded, his finger fidgeting with his father’s ring, which he had worn around his neck since he was a small boy. 

“15 years and one look at her and all that shit just comes right back,” he let out a low whistle. “She looks damn good. Different though. Not just physically. She’s colder than I remembered.”  

“You miss her?” 

He nodded. “Yea, being back here this year. She’s gone but every fuckin’ place in this damn country reminds me of her. I fucked up.”

“You still love her?” 

Erik shrugged. “A lack of love was never the issue. Doesn’t matter if 50 years go by… it’d still be her. Only her. Who knows, maybe I can make this shit right. Can’t be a coincidence that Bast brought us both back?” 

“May I be honest with you, cousin?” 

“Me saying no ain’t ever stopped you.” 

“When Naja first joined the War Dogs, her father made a personal plea to my father and I  to reject her application. When I asked him why, he said that though they were crafted by the same hand, his daughters could not be more different. Nakia, he said, was an assassin’s blade. Beautiful, striking, and when wielded with the right hand, deadly. While Naja was no weapon at all. She was a delicate sculpture, something to gaze upon, he said. She could be a weapon, like anything. But one blow would be all you get and the cost would destroy her and she would never be the same again.” 

“This fuckin’ Wakandan proverb shit,” Erik mumbled. “Like what the fuck does that even mean?” 

“It means… You broke her, N’Jadaka. And that isn’t a judgment or condemnation,” he added at the pain that flashed across his face. “I understood then and now what ailed you when you did what you did. But you broke her. And to cope with that pain, like you, she picked up all those broken pieces and fashioned herself into a weapon that is more deadly than even Nakia ever was. Someone who is unbreakable. She is the most lethal weapon I’ve ever seen with stunning effectiveness and precision. She is pragmatic, she is cold, she is cunning, and merciless. And for her, love for anything other than this country and its throne is weakness. She is not the Naja you left here 15 years ago. She may look like the woman you love but she is an entirely different person, N’Jadaka. Be wise and remember that.”

“What are you saying?” 

“I am saying that as much as I would love to see the two of you reconcile, this Naja will sooner kill you before she will let you close enough to break her ever again. Goodnight, cousin.” T’Challa grabbed his glass and stood up, walking to the door, leaving Erik to contemplate the consequences of his actions. 

Tag List: @miyuhpapayuh @pipsqueak-98 @injerafiend @themakingsofdion

A/N: Ok I've never written Erik before so I'm really excited. I also feel like this OC is very unlike my others so I'm excited about.

Drop a comment and let me know what you thought or if you want to be tagged!

[athenamikaelson]

War of Scars Pt. 3

Word Count- 2.6k

Warnings- Swearing, mentions of injury

Four days have passed since I last argued with Keiko. I know she has come by the med cabin a few times daily, but Alastair has turned her back around each time. I hear him tell her the same thing each time,

“Give her some time to cool off and regain her strength. Then you can come to bother her again.”

At first, Keiko had tried to get by him, but after the 4th time, she just wordlessly leaves once he tells her to go. A small part of me feels bad for turning away from her. Then I remember all the lies she told me and that small ounce of sadness contorts back to anger. 

A small silver lining these past few days though has been my nurse, or guardian angel as he calls himself, Alastair. Even though he’s the same age as me and has the personality of a rabid ferret, he has been very attentive to me and my healing process. Always checking up on me in the morning and even coming in to keep me company throughout the rest of the day. Most of the time it’s him talking to me about the latest gossip at camp or which cabins to stay clear of. Most of the time I stare at the window by my bed while he does this, barely listening to what he says. He doesn’t seem to notice, or if he has he doesn’t seem to care, since he still finds a way to talk my ear off with everything and nothing at the same time. 

Right now Alastair is trying to ease my bandaged arm into the grey sweatshirt, one of his friends lent him. As Alastair said he would never be caught dead in such a dreary color as grey. 

“I don’t know why we can’t just stay here for a little longer,” I look up to Alastair whose eyebrows are scrunched together in concentration as he eases the rest of the sweatshirt over my shoulders, “We can just stay here and I’ll even let you tell me all about the boy in Cabin 5 who pranked Aphrodite’s cabin or whatever.”

Alastair rolls his blue eyes dusts invisible dirt off my shoulders and brushes my hair away from my face.

“Nope. No can do. Chiron needs to speak with you, and besides you’re all healed so you’ll be moving into the Hermes cabin and out of here.”

I look over to the bed I’ve been sleeping in for the past few weeks and a sense of sadness fills me at the thought. 

“Do I have to move into another cabin? Can’t I stay here for another night?”

Alastair sends me a small smile and moves his hand to the small of my back as he guides me to the front door of the med cabin. I halt at the realization that I haven’t been outside of this cabin since the Chimera attack. I start to blink heavily as my vision starts to blur and my breathing gets faster. 

“Woah, woah just breathe bro! You can’t seriously like this cabin that much,” Alastair rubs his hand up and down my right shoulder soothingly as he tries to joke with me.

“Don’t worry about it ok? We can take as long as you need, and if you’re worried about everyone staring at you, don’t, ok. Most people will be staring at me because I have that effect on people,” He sends me a smirk, “and those who are staring at you just are curious about the girl who survived Zeus’ lightning. After a few days though someone new will enter camp and they’ll be in the spotlight.”

I nod my head slowly as I stand there for a moment and take a deep breath. I open my eyes and send a small nod at Alastair telling him I’m ok. I’m totally not, but he doesn’t need to worry about me anymore. Alastair grasps the handle of the door and lets me walk outside first. 

The bright light is the first thing that enters my vision, momentarily stopping me. I bring my hands up to rub my eyes and continue my steps onto the wooden porch. I glance around to see woods surrounding the med cabin and groups of kids of all ages wearing orange t-shirts running around. None of them seem to notice me though as they all seem to be in their worlds, conversing with one another. 

“Chiron said he would be at the archery field so it shouldn’t be that far of a walk from here.” 

Alastair says as he passes me, and hops down the steps as if he is high on life, or high on something else. This wouldn’t surprise me since no one can be as happy-go-lucky as this kid has been since the moment I met him. 

Alastair and I make our way down a path that a few other kids who appear to be a bit younger than us are also walking on. A bright green forest surrounds us as birds chirp in the air and a light breeze flows through my hair. Alastair walks beside me with a pep in his step and a tune coming from his lips. Every person that’s passed us so far has expressed their excitement to see him which he reciprocates. But, as soon as the other people notice me their attention turns to the light bruises on my face and my covered arm. That excitement quickly dissipates as they walk away, whispering to each other. 

After more whispers and passing glances with the orange-shirted strangers Alastair and I make it to a clearing that opens up to a field filled with kids and archery equipment. As I stare at the field filled with kids the building anxiety I’ve felt begins to burst at the seams. 

“Ah, Y/N it’s nice to see you walking around.”

A deep voice comes from behind Alastair and I. I turn around and my mouth drops open as I stare at the man-horse thing in front of us. 

“You didn’t tell her what I was did you.” 

The man-horse thing smiles down at me after he questions Alastair. I keep staring at him with my mouth open though.

“Oops, I did not,” Alastair turns to me and hisses my name at me as he puts his hand under my chin and pushes up to close my mouth, “Close your mouth girl, damn.”

“It’s quite alright Alastair. I have had much more intense reactions from new campers,” Horse-Man says to him as he glances back at me, “It’s nice to meet you Y/N. Welcome to Camp Half-Blood. I hope Alastair has been suitable company for you in your time of healing.”

I hear a gasp of surprise and hurt come from Alastair as he starts going on about how he is insulted Chiron would think anything bad of his company. I’m not too focused on Alastair though as I try to make sense of the Man-horse in front of me. No. Not Man-horse, Chiron. His name is Chiron. 

“I’m Chiron, the activities director here at camp, I am also a centaur which you’ve noticed. I’ve asked Alastair to bring you here so I can give you a personal tour of Camp myself,” Chiron turns to Alastair, “Thank you Alastair for your help. You are free to go.”

I quickly glance at Alastair when I realize the closest thing I have to a friend here at camp is leaving me. Wait, no. Not a friend. He was only with me to help me heal. Now that I’m healed he’ll go back to helping other broken and bruised kids. 

I turn back around, not facing him, and watch some of the kids run around.

“Hey don’t get all moody on me again, Brat.”

Alastair flicks me behind my ear to get my attention. 

“I’ll come to check on you when you’re all settled into the Hermes cabin. My friend lives there too so I’ll make sure he gives you the best attention.”

I look into Alastair's eyes waiting to see some sort of pity or annoyance at the idea of visiting me, but I see nothing but a smile in his eyes. 

“Ya, Ok,” I send him a small nod. 

__________________

“And this is the mess hall, campers come here for arts and crafts and other weekly activities put on by the cabins.” 

I glance at the tall building in front of me that has kids coming and going. Chiron has shown me most of the camp by now, explaining each building and function. We’ve passed many campers, almost all of who’ve given me the same mix of pity and wariness that I’d seen from the campers earlier today with Alastair. 

Chiron leads me down a narrow path towards to cabins as a question enters my mind about something Alastair had said.

“Alastair mentioned something about me surviving Zeus’ lightning bolt,” I strain my neck to glance up at Chiron who’s stopped walking, “What did he mean by that?” 

I watch as a flurry of emotions passes through Chiron’s face as he looks at me. 

“We don’t if what happened to you was Zeus’ doing. It is just a rumor that some of the campers have been talking about. You shouldn’t worry too much about it.” 

A frown makes its way onto my face at Chiron’s dismissive tone as he keeps walking, clearly done with the question. 

“There are 12 cabins in Camp Half-Blood. Three of which no one resides in. As you have not been claimed by your Godly parent, you’ll be staying in Cabin Eleven, Hermes’ cabin.”

I lightly jog to catch up with Chiron, trying not to agitate the stitches on my back. 

“What do you mean, claimed?”

Chiron glances down at me with a solemn look. 

“Claiming is when your godly mother or father claims you as their own. This can be done by completing a quest or by simply participating in a game of Capture the Flag.”

I nod at what he says and continue my walk. 

“You’re not going to ask anything else about claiming?”

I shrug at Chiron’s question and shake my head.

“Why should I care?”

This question gains Chiron’s attention. 

“Most campers question when they’re going to get claimed by their godly parent.”

I stare at Chiron for a moment as a sense of agitation and anger forms in the bottom of my gut. 

“Why would I care about being claimed by a God that never even cared to let me know they existed? One who let me get attacked by some creature, and one who let me be raised by people I thought were my family, but were really just strangers!”

Chiron stares at me with raised eyebrows.

“Y/N, you shouldn’t talk like that. The gods don’t like to be talked badly about.” 

That anger has now been built into something big at hearing Chiron’s words. 

“I don’t give a flying fuck. If my parent has a problem with the way I talk about them, then they can get off their ass and tell me themselves.”

I spit out at Chiron as I start stomping away from him. After a moment Chiron walks up to me. 

“You don’t know where you’re going, do you?”

I huff out in annoyance and throw my hands up, “No!”

I tense up at the feeling of a hand on my shoulder, the same shoulder that is now heavily scarred. Chiron must notice my apprehension as he takes his hand away. 

“I know all of this can be a lot, especially after everything you went through. It’s got to be a lot to deal with and you’re anger is understandable. Just try to channel that energy into something production.”

I roll my eyes at his words, “Ya, like what?”

“Whatever interest you have, any hobbies. Something that makes you feel like the old you again.”

I let Chiron’s words hang in the air as we approach a big wooden cabin, with many rowdy kids coming through the huge oak doors. 

Chiron leads me up the steps and opens the main door for me to walk through. I was expecting to see something impressive and god-like to go with Greek mythology but all I’m met with is a normal summer camp cabin filled with bunkbeds and kids of all ages. 

“Attention campers,” Chiron yells from beside me gaining the cabin's attention and eliciting a groan to escape my lips, “This is Y/N Thomas, she’s had a hard past few weeks here at camp and I want all of you to show her kindness.” 

I watch as many of the campers give me weary or questionable looks, whilst others look as if my presence is a mere annoyance but after a moment they all turn around and go back to their previous conversations. 

“We’re low on beds at the moment so we have a sleeping bag set up with your things in the corner of the room,” Chiron goes to take his leave but he turns to face me once more, “And Y/N, if you have any more questions please feel free to come to find me. And remember what I said about finding an outlet.”

I stand silently as I watch Chiron exit the cabin, leaving me standing in the entryway by myself. 

“Is it comfortable?” 

A deep voice comes from behind me and my eyebrows scrunch at the odd question. I turn around to make eye contact with a pair of deep brown eyes. The owner of the brown eyes is a boy who appears to be a little older than me. Brown curly hair hangs over his forehead, in a way that many couldn’t pull off without looking like they’d need a haircut, but somehow he makes it work. The boy has long eyelashes and full pink lips. The last thing that catches my attention is the scar that starts from the bottom of his right eye and stops right above his lips. Lips that have now started to curve into a small smirk. Fuck. Im staring. 

“What did you just ask me?”

The boy’s smirk turns into a small smile as he gestures to my hoodie.

“I asked if it is comfortable, you’re sweatshirt,” The boy stops and shrugs his shoulders, “Well technically my sweatshirt.”

I glance down at the grey sweatshirt that covers my torso and a wave of embarrassment flows through me. 

“You’re Alastair’s friend?” 

I ask him even though I already know the answer. 

“Ya, Alastair’s a buddy of mine. He asked to borrow a sweatshirt for one of his patients.”

I stare at the boy for a moment before reaching for the bottom of the sweatshirt and go to lift it realizing this kid probably wants his clothes back and doesn’t want a stranger wearing it. Dread fills me though stopping my movement as I realize that I’m just wearing a tank top underneath this and my bandage would be on show if I were to take the sweatshirt off. 

“Hey, don’t worry about giving it back,” The boy takes the bottom of the sweatshirt out of my hands and lets it drop back into place, “You keep it as long as you need.” 

I stare at the boy and take a fast step away from him.

“Don’t touch me! I don’t even know who you are.”

The boy stares at me for a moment with an inquisitive look as his eyes shift over my face and then he takes a small step backwards. 

“Okay… No touching, got it. My bad,” He stares at me again and smiles, “Luke, my name is Luke Castellan. Counselor of Cabin Eleven. And it is nice to meet you, Y/N Thomas. Welcome to Camp Half-Blood.”

Taglist-

@wannabewolf @ashisabitgay @luvvfromme @potatochip-111

[lynn-tged-posting]

tged webtoon ep 158 spoilers and thoughts but mostly it's just me laughing my ass off and also speculating on what happens, im still working on the novel but ill finish it soon trust <- has like ten billion different things she wants to do at the same time

.

.

.

.

.

.

ARCOS AND MARBELLA IN THIS PANEL WAS ME FOR MOST IF NOT ALL OF THIS CHAPTER HELPPP LMFAOAOOO

javier you absolute fiend you ,,, you've learned so much,,, /aff

i figured that javier would tell them at least a semi-truth, or something like that to tide over the count/countess,,, their expressions here made me so worried for a moment,,,

LIKE THESE UUAGHGHHGHGHHHH that kind of anticipation is terrifying tbh like "has our son been dead this whole time, have we been living w someone else??" and the imminent grief looming over that thought i think got translated really well here the blank irises and the shadowed face im so ,,,, ueueueueueue

AND THEN TO GET HIT WITH THIS

HELP MEEEE HAHAHAHA BRAZEN JAVIER ROBOFACED JAVIER ITS REAL HES REAL LMFAOAOOOOO

OF ALL THE THINGS JAVIER COULD HAVE DONE TO GET OUT OF THIS SITUATION HE DECIDED TO EMULATE LLOYD I GIGGLED SO BAD I STARTED COUGHING

AND THE FULL COMMITMENT TOO TO THE BIT AND MAKING IT SEEM LIKE HE'S MORE FOULMOUTHED THAN HE LETS ON . AND SINCE JAVIER IS NORMALLY SO DEADPAN IT JUST. WORKS I GUESS HAHAHAHAHA THIS IS CRAZY

insane genuinely fucking insane i couldn't stop laughing HAHAHAHAA like this is completely absurd but the fact that it's coming from javier, someone who the count and countess completely trust at the moment, someone who's been by lloyd's side this whole time,,, PELASE HAHAHFHADHFDHSHAHA

the count and countess reacting too got me giggling a storm HAHA

also also early webtoon lloyd makes an appearance again i think it's really fun that the artist gives him the hairstyle from back then, before they changed his hairstyle heehee

oh his undershirt is also missing that X that's usually there in the current tged style too i didnt notice that at first but another little callback!!!

AND THEN JAVIER FINISHING OFF THE BIT WITH. SEPPUKU??? WHAT THE HELL ALDKFJLSDKJF ?!?!?!

I DONT EVEN KNOW WHAT TO SAY TO THIS LIKE HE DIDNT HAVE TO but i guess it did kind of knock the count/countess out of their stupor bc by seeing something so insane from javier they think javier rlly regrets giving lloyd BRAIN DAMAGE LAKJDFSHDF FUCKING BRAIN DAMAGE

i did see some ppl say that its kind of odd that they thank javier for this and thats fair yeah i dont think id be ok w finding out "oh one of my loved ones gave another one of my loved ones MEMORY LOSS"

but i think it could be that they're relieved to find out (or are inclined to believe) that their lloyd is "still alive" - he's just changed, not dead (except he is dead, so javier succeeded in fooling them without telling very severe lies)

honestly with how their expressions were they were probably expecting the worst, esp w all the evidence stacked against lloyd. can u imagine that despair, realizing that the person you've finally come to love is not the person you thought they were?? that the person you thought you had a second chance with, wasn't that person at all? i bet all those regrets were washing over the count and countess all at once,,, and then the relief that comes when it's revealed (when they're lead to believe) that no, it's the same person. this second chance was with the same lloyd, not someone else. that's still their son. oooooh imagine the relief, the realization that you don't have to mourn, you don't have to grieve for a death that happened under your nose

i think that's why they reacted this way, instead of worrying over javier wacking lloyd upside the head; like, what matters now is that lloyd frontera is alive (to them) and that both lloyd and javier have grown and changed themselves and the estate for the better. that the child and the knight they raised have a bright future and isn't that what any parent wants?

tho ofc they dont realize that their assumption is not the truth, but well they dont need to know that,,, for everyones sakes,,, nice play javier

when lloyd shows up and we saw this panel i thought we were gonna have a nice moment between the two of them where lloyd thanks javier for covering for him and hiding the truth but then-

THESE TWO FUCKING IDIOTS HAHAHAHAHAHA /AFF

I LOVE THEM SO MUCH THEYRE SO DEVIOUS HAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHA

and then lloyds conversation with the count/countess after PLEASE

yknow this is kind of like that bargaining strategy where you propose something completely absurd and crazy so that the other party says no, but then you offer your real request that is objectively tasking but the other party thinks of it as lesser than the former request so they'll grant it . whatever the heck that strat is called thats what this feels like HAHAHAHA

AND ARCOS TRYING TO LOOK OUT FOR LLOYD AND

AHFGSDLJKFSDGHH THRTHOWS UP

lloyd says "all i need is for you to stay healthy" and god that fucking. hurts ouw ouuuhhh owiee oww BUDDY U CAN HAVE BOTH U CAN PROTECT UR FAMILY WHILE ALSO RELYING ON THEM!!! LLOYD!!! LLLOOOYYYDDD

and yet of course this is smth that suho!lloyd would say ,,, he wasnt able to help his parents w their struggles back then but now he can and now it's all he wants to do ,,, i cant even explain how emo this exchange makes me i can't quite put it into words even after a whole day of sitting on this,,, especially after the events of 157 like lloyd im worried abt u!! he doesnt even realize he doesnt even realize the overwork the possible spiral that can come from trying to preserve this aghhh AAGGHHH

sorry for losing it anyways moving on, the title effects linking yippie!!! it was super fun seeing all the teams and all the people he's brought together,,, truly this was our greatest estate development /j

ALSO JAVIER BEING BY HIMSELF ON A TEAM LMFAOOOO "the team that does everything" HAHAHAHAHA

AND THEN AND THEN the last reveal of this episode THE KINGDOM OF HEAVEN HELLO!@?!?!??!@?!?@?!@! OH MY GOD

raphael looks a litte different here i could've sworn he was a turtle /j

BUT YEAH HOLY SHIT WOW i mean it makes sense, if theres a hell theres probably a heaven, and there was that line that javier said where he was like "alicia liking lloyd is more ridiculous than suho actually being an archangel" MAN I SHOULDA SEEN THIS COMING LMAO but im still excited to see where this goes

like the jewel of truth construction being ILLEGAL? what r they gonna do??? like,,, take the parts away?!?! how will lloyd avoid their like, divine punishment or whatever?? is it considered a crime to start mythical construction??? i wonder what their ruling will be

also the exiled student guy (forgot his name) and lupellan what r they up to will this interfere w them?? or with lloyd? a lot of stuff lined up oh GOD lmao

anyways thats all for right now, as always i yap more on my twitter if youd like to see more shenanigans from me, see yall next week!! !!!!

[cairavende]

Worm Arc 19 thoughts:

Hopefully this is the only time I have more than a month wait between arc recaps. I was distracted.

Not a long arc really, but god damn did a lot happen.

My daughter is no longer eaten . . . ate . . . aten . . .

My daughter is no longer inside of a creature. That's good. Even though I was obviously 100% fine at the end of arc 18. I'm just more fine now.

Big props to Weld for just going swimming in a giant flesh pool and pulling people (and dogs!) out. He's an ok guy.

Based on the weird "dreams" Skitter was having while inside Echidna I am running on the assumption that the clones are pulled from alternate reality versions of the consumed person where said person had died. Well, not the clones themselves really, but the powers of the clones (and possibly their personalities/memories). Not sure it will end up mattering, with Echidna being dead.

But basically I think the dreams were partially visions of alternate realities.

I've been on the "alternate realities are gonna play a big role and are tied to powers and everything" boat for awhile now, but this arc finally brought that all to the forefront of everything. Just with Scapegoat and Scrub's power, clone Eidolon's powers, the door, and such. So that's cool!

Speaking of Scapegoat, I love his ridiculous little power. I saw it coming the second I saw the name and I was enjoying every second of it.

"She’s fucking blind!?" has gotta be one of the best moments in Worm so far.

Skitter finally realizes that Tattletale has been very clearly taking actions to portray her as the leader to everyone else. Cause bad ass lesbian super villain trio is everything.

Skitter hard carried the second Echidna fight. Everyone would probably be fucked if she wasn't there.

Starting off with taking out the teleporter Grue clone. My girl knows rule number 1. First, GEEK THE MAGE!

And of course she was using her bugs to monitor the entire battlefield, but then she starts giving information and direction to everyone. Kept track of clones, preventing any (hopefully) from escaping). And taking out a fair share of them herself!

Fucking just full on use swarm speech to speak to everyone across the battlefield at once! FUCK YES SHE IS BADASS!

I'm sure Shatterbird won't show up again and isn't going to be an issue at all!

And she's the one that sets up the trap to cut Echidna in half and contain clone Eidolon so Miss Militia can take him out! Clockblocker gets partial credit for helping I guess. But still, Skitter saved all their asses 10 times over.

Also Clockblocker is obsessed with my daughter. Kid has it baaaaaaaad.

I love that in the first few chapters there is some teasing of Cauldron's secrets being spilled a little bit, then Legend completely reveals that Cauldron exists but lies about details, and then suddenly clone Eidolon just dumps everything out there!

Faultline and crew - "We…worked on finding info on Cauldron for a year…and…he just…he shouted it out."

And through all of this Tattletale just out here like "I'm gonna tear a hole in reality!" God I love this reckless chaos child.

Gully deserves to punch a few Cauldron people. As a treat.

Lisa "I took one look at you and instantly knew I would take over the fucking city just to see you smile" Wilbourn over here! GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!!!!!!!!!

SERIOUSLY IT'S SO GAY!

"OH NO LOOK AT THAT POOR TRAUMATIZED CUTE GIRL, I CAN FIX HER!" IS THE MOST LESBIAN THING

Real quote: "Maybe- maybe when the interuniversal trade takes off. Can you imagine? With me and you as the top dogs? The whole world will pay attention to us." HOW CAN SHE BE THIS LESBIAN?

CHATTERBUG CHATTERBUG CHATTERBUG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (SMUGBUG SMUGBUG SMUGBUG if you prefer)

THEY CAN RULE THE WORLD TOGETHER AND I WILL FORGIVE ALL WRONGS DONE TO REACH THAT POINT CAUSE GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!!!!!!!!!!!! (Also obviously Rachel will be there too.)

(I'm sure Taylor crumpling the papers from Dinah in her fists at the end of the arc isn't ominous at all.)

Blasto Interlude thoughts:

Sucks to be Blasto I guess

Accord is terrible as always, glad to see more of him. Love his minions.

Colin can't do anything right. Seriously dude you cut Bonesaw in half and still lost! You have magic cut through anything and turn it to dust tech and you couldn't kill her! God.

Dragon is hard carrying this SH9 hunting team.

She got Manton! That's crazy! Good job robot daughter!

I 100% do not expect Siberian to stay gone. I mean outright Bonesaw is gonna be cloning people and she can probably get some of his DNA. But even without that, it was just too convenient, happening off screen like that. I dunno. It's not safe.

Also Blasto, I'm really sorry about what happened to you but also you tried to make a half Simmy clone! God damn that was the dumbest thing you could ever have done. You are so lucky it didn't work (probably), cause if it did it would have been because she planned it. God damn.

Time for the Slaughterhouse 99 or whatever. Gonna really suck for people.

Parahumans Online Interlude thoughts:

Timeskip!!! Shortish timeskip but still! It's been so day to day for so long so suddenly jumping ahead was surprising.

Greg from act 1 is back! And also kinda a dick. And probably has a Thinker 1 power. Tattletale light basically. Fits with what Taylor said about him in act 1 too.

GstringGirl is probably Sveta, that feels right.

Glad to see the Case 53s making their own team, that's a good start.

WagTheDog wanting to work for Bitch is super cute! I'm glad it seems like that is going to work out.

Loved seeing some of the stuff of people talking about Skitter. I've been wanting to see what the general public has been saying about her cause from an outside perspective the stuff she has done seems 10 times crazier than it is, and it is already crazy.

Emma Interlude thoughts:

Fuck this bitch

Sure she went through a really hard situation and she has terrible parents and it is easy to see how she got to where she is, but that doesn't excuse her actions. I still don't like her at all.

I don't know how much more I need to say, except that Alan shouldn't have left his traumatized daughter home alone with the instructions "If you feel like doing something bad please call the therapist who's number I put on the fridge" christ dude. You are worse every time you show up.

Like learning that Alan knows everything about Sophia as well? Just makes him even worse! Probably upgraded from a 3 fire asshole to a 4 fire asshole by now.

[jonathanbyersphd]

Snippet Sunday or smth idk have a WIP

From Landslide aka Fine Line Jonathan's POV

Jonathan’s staring at his ceiling again, he’s supposed to be counting sheep. He promised Nancy he’d try to count sheep. She’s worried about him not sleeping and he’s worried about her worrying. What a match. He shuts his eyes trying to imagine a sheep, but it appears distorted; a sheep’s body with the head of a Demogorgon. He flings his eyes back open just as he hears some rustling outside. Maybe he's imagining things or maybe the Demogorgon is back to actually kill him this time. He rolls over trying to convince himself it's just a deer even though it's the dead of winter. He swears he hears a twig snap. Maybe he’s just hearing things, maybe the gate didn’t fully close and this is it. He breathes deep, trying to calm himself down but something clacks against the glass.  Seventeen years of life and only a handful of decent photos to show for it. He wonders what they’ll say at his funeral. ‘Here lies Jonathan D. Byers, he lived and died in a one horse town and never did anything important with his life’  “Shit” his assailant exclaims from the other side of his window.  Except, his would-be murderer sounds an awful lot like his girlfriend. But that’s silly, Nancy’s home… in bed...asleep…like a normal person. He sits up, clicks on his nightstand lamp and the sounds from outside still. Ok so, maybe he's just afraid of the dark now and doesn't want to admit it. He sighs just as there's another rap on the window. Maybe there’s a perfectly normal non-nyctophobia explanation for all of this.  Cautiously, he slips out of bed to investigate. Maybe he’s just imagining Nancy being there as some weird psychological comfort thing before he dies. Not that he really wants to die, he really wants to finish Bright Lights, Big City. The window rattles and a part of him wishes he still had the nail bat. Holding his breath, he gingerly pushes aside his makeshift curtains.  Revealing Nancy on the other side of the frosted glass looking startled. He opens his window trying not to shiver too hard when the cold comes in.  “What are you doing?” he hisses, his breath turning to puffs in the frigid air. “Sleepover” Nancy shrugs, before dropping something and attempting to vault herself through.  But even on her tiptoes the ledge is just a little too tall. Awkwardly, Jonathan helps pull her through the window before quickly shutting the window again. By the time he turns back around, she’s laying her winter coat on his chair and untying her boots. His mind starts racing, he doesn’t want her to leave but sleeping over seems like a really dumb idea. But then Nancy pulls off her jeans and any intelligent thoughts he had fly away.   “Do you have a shirt I can borrow?” she asks nonchalantly, like she’s looking for an extra pencil.  “Drawer” he mumbles, barely remembering the word.  Briefly, confusion crosses her face but it's gone before he can think twice about it. He takes a seat on the edge of his bed as she rummages through his dresser. She pulls out his white thermal and starts lifting up her top. He averts his gaze focusing on his evil dead poster instead.  “It's ok to look, you know” Nancy teases.   “Um, yeah right ok” he responds, shaky. He turns his head back, but she's already fully changed. His shirt is practically a nightgown on her and she's so cute he can't stand it. She's almost bouncing as she closes the miniscule distance between them. Boldly, she straddles his lap and wraps her arms around his neck. Jonathan breathes hard, maybe he really is going to die.

[crowdemoninkinkyboots]

Can I ask your top 10 fav fics ever (from any fandom, if you don't mind)?

Also, just curious, is there a story behind your name "crowdemoninkinkyboots "?

before i give my fav fics, my username is in reference to sebastian because he’s a crow demon with kinky boots uvu

okay these are in no particular order but here’s my top 10 fics:

Shapeshifter by Honeythief

black butler, sebaciel

y’all this fic broke me. whoever suggested it owes me emotional compensation. but it also hurt so good. it’s in first person which may turn off some people but i promise it’s worth the read

Sanglier by vanroku

twisted wonderland, rookpel with a hint of jackpel

it’s painfully hard finding dead dove/whump content with my fav pomefiore boys, but this is absolutely perfect

Timeless Eternity by GammaRays

demon slayer, kibutan

y’all this fic is dark. but it’s so good. it kinda sparked my thing for captor/captive tropes, and tbh it’s probably my fav kny fic

actually i lied the next two are fics i commissioned i still absolutely adore (they’re also omegaverse lmao)

Knock Knock Little Bunny by mattysones

demon slayer, kibutan

i was so excited for this fic and it was worth the wait. omegaverse + whump is such a tasty combination for me and matty wrote it perfectly. best money i’ve spent.

Torridity by mcpoggy

demon slayer, kanaoi

mcpoggy is usually a giyutan writer and i’m probably going to add one of her other fics here but i absolutely adored how this fic came out. it’s so vanilla compared to the other fics listed but i love it. i need more omegaverse yuri in my life

When I Kissed The Teacher by mcpoggy

demon slayer, giyutan

this is like THE giyutan fic, and also my first bookmark on ao3. it’s also vanilla compared to most other fics on this list but giyutan does have an age gap. it’s super long but i’d alway recommend mcpoggy’s giyutan fics uvu

heads rolling for the one i adore by nyabatos

genshin impact, zhongven

ok i’m INCREDIBLY biased because the author is my best friend but she’s such an incredible writer. it’s also such an interesting au where venti sacrifices his freedom to zhongli to save mondstadt and the aftermath of that deal

The Fall of Mondstadt series by Probabri

genshin impact, kaeluc

whoops my bias is showing again bc i’m also friends with the author but this story awakened kinks in me i didn’t know i had oops

Spear Fishing by reallybadcontent

genshin impact, beidou/fem!reader

ahem. so. i’m not typically into reader pov fics but beidou is. beidou. and i’m a weak lesbian. and ngl i also imagined my oc instead. so. next fic

Dream A Little Dream of Me by BadBadz

black butler, sebaciel

ok i’m being biased again, since this was based off of a tumblr post i made, but i was so happy it inspired someone and it turned out great. of course my fav sebaciel fics have angst in them…it’s like i like hurting myself…

pls lmk if y’all have ever read any of these fics/ur thoughts! i’m sure u all noticed a trend lol