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lillotte17 · 3 years

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Tomorrow

Got hooked watching Word of Honor and Zhou Zishu's Sad Face Journeys in episodes 33-34 came for my life, so I wrote a little scene set after the whole Heroes Conference Thing. ...And then Wen KeXing showed up and just...*gestures vaguely* I don't know what happened here. XD

Zhou Zishu sits quietly beside the bed, watching Wen KeXing's sleeping face with an ache in his chest that has nothing to do with his failing body, and everything to do with the fact that he is about to die.

When his shidi had made a miraculous reappearance at the Heroes Conference, his first reaction was gut-wrenching surprise. It felt as though the ground had suddenly dissolved beneath his feet. His heart leaping so high in his throat that he forgot how to breathe. Dizzy with the overwhelming rush of joy and confusion. Uncertain whether to laugh or cry.

But once the shock had subsided, the anger had been hot on its heels. And he wanted to be mad about it. Wanted to take Wen KeXing by the shoulders and shake him so hard that his teeth rattled around in his skull. Wanted to scream and sob and rail against the now inevitably fast-burning candle of his fate. At the unfairness of losing his life just as he had found something worth living for again. Someoneworth living for. For a few moments, the fury had burned so brightly in him he thought it might be enough to kill him then and there. That the fire between his lungs would simply burst his chest open and engulf everything around them in a sea of red.

But when they had caught each other’s gaze, he had seen the apology roiling in Wen KeXing’s dark eyes, raw and miserable, even without a word being said. The apology, and the fear. That same fear Zishu had seen flicker across his face every time he had tried to coax him into confessing that he was from Ghost Valley. The same fear he had seen in him the night Wen KeXing had snuck out of the Four Seasons Manor to intercept Ye BaiYi and tried to prevent him from reveling his identity. And yet again, when Han Ying had died, and he had nearly killed himself in a blind panic trying to fix it somehow. The fear whispered that death was preferable to his hatred. That his blade would be kinder than his revulsion. That Wen KeXing would sacrifice anything to avoid being abandoned once again.

Zhou Zishu was helpless in the face of it; as he always seems to be. The look that passed between them had been fast and fleeting, there and gone again with barely a blink, but it was enough to douse the flames of his anger with a tide of chilling and fathomless grief. The rest of the Heroes Conference passed before him in a daze. Vengeance, and justice, and pride. Wen KeXing blazing in the brightest and truest version of himself for all to see. Dazzling and mesmerizing and impossible to look away from. He does not know if he has ever loved him more, even as he felt his heart slowly sinking down into the pit of his stomach. The numbness of acceptance settling into his bones.

There will be no escape from death, this time.

He had been quiet on the way back to Jing BeiYuan’s Manor. Quiet enough to worry both Wen KeXing and ChengLing, who always seems to see more than he understands. He had listened to their reasons and excuses, and he had done his best to reassure them afterwards, but his own words sound hollow in his ears. The best he could do was to get Lao Wen hopelessly drunk, and pray that it made him less intuitive. The suffusion of elation and hope in the air had nearly been enough to choke him, though. He did not want to rob them of it, but he found he could take part in it either, no matter how much he wanted to. He could not bring himself to celebrate a future he can no longer share with them.

Zhou Zishu understands Wen KeXing. He understands that he is just as abysmal at properly conveying affection as he is himself, if not more so. The man only knows how to protect people he cares for by either sending them away from him or drowning them both in blood. It is how he had managed to survive all those years surrounded by madness and chaos and death. Zishu had done much the same, while he was working in the capital. Hiding all of their softer places far away from where the light could reach them. Playful banter has always passed easily between them, but tenderness is heavier, and vulnerabilities almost impossible to speak aloud. They are both trying to do better, struggling to pull their own humanity back into their hands where it can be shared freely, but Wen KeXing’s hurts are older and deeper. His path back to the world of the living inevitably more winding and complex. He still has not mastered the art of articulating his fears and concerns.

Zhou Zishu’s health was tenuous even before he had been kidnapped and tortured. As much as he hated to admit it, he had been in no fit state to fight an angry mob. Wen KeXing hid the truth from him because he knew that he would chafe at being told to stay out of harm’s way; that they would have argued about it until he was either allowed to participate in the scheme or he was spitting blood and passing out on the floor. Zishu cannot even say that this assessment of his character was a bad one, but it still stung to be kept in the dark, and the hurt was lingering. And yet, however deep the barb of this secret may have landed, however misplaced the caution may or may not have been, he knows without a shred of doubt that Wen KeXing’s deception was born of love, and he can hardly hold that against him.

Especially not now.

Wen KeXing turns his head slightly, mumbling something that sounds suspiciously like an extremely slurred version of his name. His expression is smooth and peaceful, his hair a dark fan across the bed behind him. The rosy glow of happiness and alcohol still pinking the apples of his cheeks.

Zishu smiles despite himself. It is much easier to find traces of the little boy his master had planned to take for his second disciple when he looks like this; safe and sleeping and completely at ease for the first time in who knows how long. He wishes he could recall those few precious days they had spent together as children with more clarity, but the memory of it is like a silk brocade left to sit too long in the sunshine, its delicate patterns fading as the colors wash away in a flood of light. Zhou Zishu had been too young to fully comprehend the weight of death when his master had returned from his trip to collect the Wen family without his shidi or his parents in tow. That his master had been sad about it was enough to impact him, but in the grand scheme of things, the wounds to his own heart had been minimal.

What would have happened if they had kept looking for Zhen Yan, he wonders. If he and Wen KeXing had grown up together as best friends and martial brothers and soulmates? Would their master have found a way to soothe Zhen Yan’s rage before it consumed him? Would Zhou Zishu have made the same mistakes with the Window of Heaven if Wen KeXing had been at his side? Perhaps they could have saved each other before things had reached the place they were now. Or perhaps Wen KeXing would have died under Zhou Zishu’s leadership with the rest of their sect, and his failures would have tasted that much more bitter.

He sighs quietly. There is no sense dwelling on things he cannot change. He had been a child, and just as powerless to save Wen KeXing from his fate as the boy himself had been. Feeling guilty about it was meaningless at this point. It was enough to have him here and now. Enough that they had had any time together at all. Enough that Wen KeXing had fallen off of that cliff and somehow still managed to walk back to him.

It has to be enough, because it is all they have. All they can have. Even if he wants more.

“Ah Xu?”

The voice is thick with sleep, but marginally less inebriated than before.

“Mn,” Zhou Zishu hums in acknowledgement, his gaze shifting slightly to watch Wen KeXing blink himself back into wakefulness.

“You didn’t go to bed?” he asks, bleary and swaying slightly as he attempts to sit up.

“There is someone in my bed.” Zishu points out archly.

Wen KeXing looks murderous for a few seconds until he realizes that the person in question is, in fact, himself. When the clouds break, his expression immediately shifts to one of insufferable satisfaction. He leans precariously off the side of the bed, robes and hair both hopelessly askew.

“I am always willing to share everything I have with Ah Xu,” he declares with feigned sweetness.

“How kind of Philanthropist Wen to make a present of what he stole from me,” Zhou Zishu snorts, “Your generosity knows no bounds.”

“Ah Xu!” Wen KeXing objects. “How is it stealing when you gave it to me freely? You think I would come to your bedroom with the intention of sleeping?”

“I’m sure I don’t know anything about your intentions.” The reply is given with a smirk, but his eyes dart away from him. “You asked me to drink with you, but the jar you brought was empty. Besides, I am thinking about giving it up. I have been told that it is bad for my health.”

“Aiya, first Ah Xu accuses me of being a thief, and now he tells me such scandalous falsehoods!” Wen KeXing shakes his head, attempting to seem wounded despite the grin on his face. “I already accepted your punishment earlier, there is no reason to be cruel.”

“Who is a liar here?” Zhou Zishu inquires laughingly, gesturing back and forth between them. “Which one of us is the most scandalous?”

“It’s me, it’s me,” Wen KeXing acknowledges, his head bobbing up and down in agreement, “But Ah Xu, you cannot expect me to ever believe that you would willingly give up drinking good wine with me? And as for not understanding my intentions, well…I believe that even less.”

“Was your intention to make sure I could not get any sleep?”

Wen KeXing only smiles at him widely.

“…I regret asking such a question,” Zhou Zishu chuckles, reaching out to lightly slap the side of Wen KeXing’s face in both fondness and chastisement. “Ask a shameless man a question and you are sure to get a shameless reply.”

Wen KeXing grabs hold of his hand before he can pull it away, leaning into it with a sigh.

“What is so shameless about it at this point?” he wonders, something soft and shining igniting within his gaze. “Living together. Dying together. Watching as our hair turns gray with old age. We’ve already promised to share these things, haven’t we? Why give me your bed when we could share that, too?”

Zhou Zishu takes a long look at him. At the dark hair spilling across his shoulder in disarray. The front of his robes just rumpled enough to expose the elegant line of his throat as well as part of his collar bones. The flush of his cheeks and the promise burning in his eyes.

He cannot deny that he wants it. Even knowing it might make things more painful later on. He wants to be selfish. He wants to be greedy while he still can. While he can still hear Lao Wen calling for him and feel his skin beneath his hands. His sense of taste and smell have gone already, but can still see him, and that could be enough. More than enough.

But will it be enough for Wen KeXing?

This is the last thing they have to give each other. The last pieces of themselves they have been holding back. Mostly because there simply had not been time for it amidst the chaos swirling around them. It always seemed as though either their lives were in danger or one of them was injured. Up until now, even Zishu had been optimistic enough to assume they would have time for it later, though. Time to use physical intimacy as an almost second meeting. To learn how they need each other in the quiet and the dark. To learn the ways they can be gentle, and the ways they can be fierce. To burn each other up in desperation and desire.

It seems too heartless to have it be a farewell instead.

Zhou Zishu lets out a long breath.

“…Not when you are drunk,” he says quietly.

Wen KeXing blinks at him in astonishment, eyes blown wide and round as saucers, clearly expecting a flat-out rejection.

A moment later, the blankets have been hastily flung aside, and he is staggering off of the bed has fast as he can. Which, as it turns out, is not very fast at all. Zhou Zishu easily catches him with one arm, lightly pushing him back into a seated position.

“Lao Wen, where do you think you are going?” he laughs.

“I need to sober up,” Wen KeXing explains, looking so serious about it that Zhou Zishu cannot help but reach out and pinch his cheek. Lao Wen slaps his hand away, his expression mulish.

“Don’t pout,” Zishu scolds, still chuckling, “It is too late to be staggering around someone else’s house. With my luck, you would drown yourself in the fish pond, and then BeiYuan and Wu Xi would be terribly put out.”

“But Ah Xu, if you won’t let me leave, and you won’t share the bed, just what do you want me to do?” Lao Wen complains. “Even if you don’t want to have sex, you should at least lay down and rest properly. I want you to get well as soon as possible.”

Zhou Zishu’s mouth stiffens slightly.

“I know.”

Wen KeXing’s brow furrows in concern. He reaches out a hand, long fingers hovering just above his heart, when Zhou Zishu catches them tightly in his own. He is not certain if Lao Wen could glean the truth about his condition from his pulse while still tipsy, but he is not about to run that risk tonight.

“Are the nails bothering you again?” Wen KeXing asks, doleful this time.

“No.”

It is not a lie.

“Then come to bed,” Lao Wen cajoles, using their joined hands to tug him closer, “I promise not to molest you unless you ask me to.”

Zhou Zishu makes a sound of grumbling disbelief, but still allows himself to be pulled down next to Wen KeXing. The bed is big enough for two, but only just. Lao Wen retrieves the formerly discarded blankets from whatever corner he had toss them and bundles them up together like two caterpillars in a single cocoon. His face is close beside him on the pillow, warm breath fanning the side of his neck. An arm drapes loosely about Zishu’s waist, and he turns his head slightly, intending to shoot a warning glare in the other man’s direction.

This is a mistake.

Wen KeXing’s eyes are dark and intense in the moonlight, half closed with either sleep or desire, it is hard to say. His lips part slightly as Zhou Zishu turns to him, and the hand draped around his waist clutches faintly at his robes as if on instinct. Both of them seem to have forgotten how to breathe.

“…Ah Xu, you can kiss me, if you like,” Lao Wen whispers finally, so soft it almost seems like a dream.

“What makes you think I want to kiss you?” he means it to sound teasing, but it comes out in almost a sigh.

“Because I want to kiss you,” Lao Wen replies matter-of-factly.

“I never thought of you as a pillar of self-restraint,” Zhou Zishu huffs.

“I promised to be a gentleman.”

Zishu closes his eyes and lets out a deep, soul-rattling sigh. He is almost glad he cannot smell the oils Wen KeXing uses in his hair or the trace of alcohol on his lips. The proximity is staggering enough all on its own.

“…It would not stop with a kiss,” he admits aloud to both of them.

He does not open his eyes again, but he can feel Wen KeXing’s body tremble slightly as he laughs, and that is almost as bad.

“Ah Xu, I would hardly complain,” he replies, testing his luck by shifting close enough so that their foreheads are lightly touching. “But you want to rest, and I want you rested, so it is no great loss, either way. You will still be here with me tomorrow, after all. There is no need to rush these things. Sometimes, a slow spring is sweeter.”

“Yes,” Zhou Zishu manages to reply around the lump lodged in his throat, “I will still be here tomorrow.”

#Word of Honor #Wenzhou #wen kexing #zhou zishu #fic #this was supposed to be all angsty #but they are SO EFFING FUNNY #it's so fun writing their banter #askdjghasdfgk #i am sorry #i have no idea what emotions this actually conveys at this point #i just work here

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angelanimedesaray · 3 years

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Wings in the Dark Chapter 7: Subversion

AN: I’m gonna admit, I was half asleep writing the first half of this cause the fatigue hit me HARD once I got home.

Also, I forgot to put this up a few chapters ago, but this story IS on AO3. The link is on the AOT Vampire Masterlist, but also right HERE.

I felt like I was missing something, but no matter how many times I looked at it, I couldn’t think of what it was...If it occurs to me, I’ll probably just find a way to work it into the next chapter, lol

Also if you want a good soundtrack for this series, honestly, all you gotta do is listen to the Forgotten Odes album by Eternal Eclipse, I always pull it up when I’m writing these XD

Characters: Levi, Fem!Vampire!Reader, Erwin

Pairing: (Eventual) Levi x Fem!Vampire!Reader

Warnings: Language, Blood, Death, Dead Bodies, ummm...idk, Vampire Legends? Is that a Warning?

Word Count: 5391

<----Previous Chapter Masterlist Next Chapter---->

*Levi’s POV*

"I've been trying to catch her sneaking out for weeks, now, Erwin, but it's like she knows when I'm awake and watching for her. I can never catch her when she's leaving, it's always when she comes back."

Levi paced slightly in front of Erwin’s desk out of agitation as he stressed why, after all this time, he still hadn't managed to follow her into the Underground and see what she was doing.

"Do you at least know when she usually sneaks out? The time, or the days?" Erwin asked calmly.

"It's always when everyone's asleep...and it is fairly regular. Every week, I think, though the exact day varies."

"If you can't follow her, then you'll need to get ahead of her. Get down there before her. You know the window of time when she'll be down there, and you know the Underground."

"But I have no idea what she's doing down there. It could be anything--and the Underground isn't a small place where I can wander around and /hope/ I run into her."

"Then narrow down your search based off your theories. We considered she might have family down there, so you would be looking at residences, or asking around about a woman of her description. And your theory of the worst she could be up to--"

"Murder or treason. I know the places you'd go for that--more so than normal, anyway," Levi murmured, mind already conjuring the worst areas in the underground, the places where the Underground's worst elements like to stalk the streets, the areas of the highest risk, the worst gangs, the shadiest deals.

The residence search could take months--no one was going to want to talk to a soldier, a surfacer, even someone who had once been a part of the Underground. Not to mention, they had no idea what Y/N Frazier looked like, or what name she was going under while she was hiding in the Underground--if she was, in fact, hiding in the Underground.

Besides, shouldn't he rule out the worst, first?

"I know where to start," Levi said decisively. "It's still going to take some time, though, because she's still aware I'm watching her, and she's good at shaking tales and evasion. Not to mention part of it is going to be based on luck--that I manage to go to the right place at the right time without knowing where she'll be."

"You're good at what you do, Levi. You'll find a way."

So began the unpleasant ritual of Levi going down into the Underground every night of every other week, all in the name of hopefully, eventually, managing to find L/N. All it would take was one glimpse, one time seeing her, and he could follow her, learning from the mistakes of last time to make sure that he didn’t lose her this time.

And he could finally find out what was happening below ground--what had been happening for years since she’d suddenly appeared on the surface.

While Levi had made a name for himself Underground, enough so that it became general knowledge not to test him, he hadn't gone around looking for the kind of trouble that would have brought him to the places he found himself in, now. He’d always been aware of these dark holes in the Underground, and on a few unpleasant occasions had to make a trip to one of them. The worst elements of the Underground were found in these holes--she shadiest deals, the scum of the earth, the darkest corners with the most blood and carnage seeped into and tainting the earth around them.

Levi’s every step in these places was careful and quiet, his guard always up, his hood always drawn to hide his face.

Even with the name he'd made down here, he was cautious to use it as a warning sign to keep danger at bay. Not only did he want to avoid sticking out and alerting L/N to his presence if she was down here, but there were always going to be the idiots who wanted to challenge someone who'd made a notorious name for themselves like he had. There might be more than normal who wanted to test him if they knew who he was, people who thought that he was a prime target because his name still stood, but his time above ground might have made him soft.

A terrible, foolish notion, really, since his time above ground and part of the Scouts had only made him more dangerous.

He'd been coming down here regularly since his talk with Erwin, scouting the area and looking for any signs of L/N, whatever they may be. Not many people down here were the talking type, and those who were couldn't give him anything about any surfacer woman prowling the streets. The only thing they could tell him was to not wander these more dangerous parts of the Underground alone because people who did tended to turn up dead or go missing.

That wasn't news to him. He was already well aware of the dangers of these parts of the Underground that had spawned chilling legends even for the people who saw the darkness of the Underground daily. He knew what he was doing was dangerous, which made L/N's presence here all the more questionable if he did manage to see her.

Levi glared fiercely at a man who'd been giving him the target sizing look after glimpsed his clean surfacer clothes. The man slunk back into the shadows and Levi's skin prickled, his senses on high alert for any kind of ambush someone might be tempted to spring on the man leaning against the wall at a four way intersection. He was keeping his head down to keep his face well shielded, but his eyes were constantly flickering around to take in his surroundings, to watch every figure that passed or came down one of the alleys, tense and ready for a fight every time someone came close to him.

This search was slow work, but with no hint to L/N’s motivations for being down here besides the scent of blood on her cloak, it was the best option he had.

A familiar, dark robed figure flashed by the opposite end of the alley on his right, and Levi straightened, disbelief flashing through him. Surely that hadn’t been…

Before he lost her in his disbelief, Levi moved quickly through the alley to at least get her within his sights, being mindful not to get too close, even though he needed to at least be able to confirm that it was her.

Sticking to the shadows, Levi peered around the corner of the alley, just enough so he could see the cloaked figure and watch them as they continued down the path at a fairly leisurely pace, as if they were strolling along the lakeside instead of through one of the most dangerous parts of the Underground.

He was fairly certain that was her cloak. It was the right color, and a quick glance down revealed that yes, it was long enough to drag along the ground like hers did, but at the moment it was gathered and tucked into the waist to keep it from dragging through the filth, keeping it just above the ankles instead.

And those boots were dark brown, leather, suspiciously similar to the Scout’s uniform--even though he couldn’t see the rest from this angle, he was willing to bet they went up to the knee. The height was right, the posture seemed militaristic--it was a hard thing to shake, especially when still in active duty and so soon after graduating from the cadets, to boot. Levi held his breath, watching intently and hoping for something a bit more defining that could give him one more bit of evidence to convince him it was her, besides this gut feeling of his.

She took a turn, and while she kept her head down, hood hiding her face, he saw a flash of hair, and glimpsed the civilian clothes underneath--

Civilian clothes he knew were hers because of the day he’d gone through her stuff and saw what she had. She didn’t have much, so it was easy to tell this was one of the four pairs she owned.

Not wanting to lose her like he had that first night, Levi hurried forward, keeping his steps as quiet as possible. He had to give her more space then he was used to giving someone that he tailed--he hadn’t forgotten how during the expedition, she seemed to have immensely attuned senses, with how quickly and easily she could pick up on what no one else could see. He still didn’t want to lose her because he fell too far behind, but he had to be careful--something kept tipping her off to his presence, and while he didn’t know what, he had to control everything he could and make it harder for her to notice his presence. Distance was his friend, right now.

It was hard, trying to trail someone while having to put so much distance between them that she frequently turned out of sight, but he kept it up, heart pounding in anticipation as his mental map of the area tried to come up with where she was heading. Right now, it just felt like she was aimlessly wandering, like there was no real direction to where she was going. What the hell was she doing?

After several minutes of following her around like this, Levi started to grow impatient, wondering if she was aware he was following her and was just walking random places until he got bored and left. If anything, it was more likely to make him confront her.

Except he needed to see what she was really doing down here, and if she was aware he was following her, that wasn’t going to happen.

Another shadowy figure entered their line, in front of Levi but behind L/N. It was a man, staying far enough back that he clearly wasn’t walking with her--another tail. Someone with more sinister intentions, too, Levi would guess, by the way he seemed to be stalking her. With how far back Levi was, he hadn’t been noticed by this new party, but he was close enough that Levi was certain L/N had noticed them.

Except...she wasn’t trying to shake them. She should have been able to do it with ease after she had lost Levi so easily that first night, but she didn’t do anything differently. Her pace remained the same, unhurried and with no real direction, even as the intruder got gradually closer.

What the hell?

Was he wrong? Was it someone she knew that she was meeting up with? No, that looked like something else, Levi knew exactly what this was, he’d seen it enough times to recognize when someone was about to get jumped.

On the other hand...this was perfect for him. Horrible as the initial thought might have been, if he tailed her tail, it put plenty of distance between himself and L/N, and as long as her tail didn’t lose her, even with her completely out of sight he wouldn’t lose track of her. And if something went wrong, well, he was right here.

Levi shifted his cloak aside at the waist, turning slightly and waiting a few moments before he fired the cables into the nearest building, using it to get onto the roofs and nothing more. The rest could be on foot, no more use of the gear. ODM had a very distinct sound any soldier who had been around them as long as L/N had would recognize instantly, so he didn’t dare use it any more times until he’d found what he was looking for. He didn’t know how keen those remarkable senses of hers were, if it was her hearing or her sight or hell, even her nose like Miche, that had allowed her to spot those Titans. Because he didn’t know how, he couldn’t risk it.

Now with the advantage of a higher vantage point, Levi followed L/N’s tail from quite a distance, able to see him further and more comfortably from so high up, his footsteps still light and silent even though he was alone on these rooftops.

Being up here reminded him of several things he hadn’t fully realized when he’d lived down here, or that he’d learned to ignore or had forgotten in his time above ground. How there was no wind down here, which was disconcerting after so long above ground with fresh air and cool breezes. How dark it really was, even with the orange glow of firelight from homes, impacting his visibility and making it hard to pick out details from a distance. And the stench--he’d been blocking it out, something he’d trained himself to do down here when he wasn’t in his own space that he could keep clean, but now that he was higher up and not in the thick of the shit, the air wasn’t quite as thick with it.

Slightly. Just barely.

The man he was following sped up and took a sudden turn into a narrow alley, causing Levi to speed up his step as well, keeping an eye on the opposite end of the alley in case he exited the alley before Levi could reach it. Crouched low so that he wouldn’t be spotted if someone happened to look up, Levi reached the edge of the building before the alley, his hand placed lightly on the dirt-covered edge as he peered over with care, trying to lean far enough he could see but where he couldn’t be seen, or at least would hardly be seen. L/N’s tail hadn’t left the alley, so they should be--

Before the alley became visible, Levi realized there were no sounds coming from the alley--no sounds of a fight, no drip of blood, no talking, nothing. If her tail had caught up to her, there should have been /something/ coming from the alley below.

A few seconds more, and he had visual confirmation that the alley was empty, even though he hadn’t seen anyone leave it from either end.

Levi kept himself calm, not allowing himself to even worry about losing sight of them--he didn’t have the time for that. Clearly he’d been far enough behind that he’d missed something that had happened. Maybe they had cut through the building opposite the one he was standing on. There were no sounds coming from there, either--it was silent as the grave in this part of the city, unsettlingly enough. But it let him know they weren’t simply hiding in one of the buildings beneath him.

He knew this area--he knew the Underground, had grown up here, walked these streets or at least mapped out in his mind the best and worst places for all kinds of situations. He could figure out what had happened. Whether she got the drop on her tail or her tail had successfully jumped her, if they weren’t here they would have gone somewhere discreet, somewhere private that was also nearby. Not a residence, and anything that was dilapidated beyond even entry wouldn’t work. What was the best spot for that criteria that was also nearby, close enough it could be quickly ducked into without anyone noticing?

Levi jumped over the edge of the building and dropped back down into the mud, knees bent to absorb the impact before he quickly shifted, navigating the streets quickly and with a purpose as he closed in on the building that came to mind. He was still careful to be quiet and stealthy lest he spook L/N and lose his chance, but he was now running out of time--the longer they were out of sight, the greater the chance he would fail to see what was happening. And he’d come so close, he couldn’t let the opportunity slip past him again.

Her being in trouble didn’t even cross his mind--he knew she could have shaken that tail if she wanted to, and she had beaten him in a sparring match. Even if that tail jumped her, he doubted she would be the one in trouble.

*Reader’s POV*

The one thing you hated the most about coming to the Underground to hunt was the smell. With how sensitive your senses were, it was absolutely horrid for you. It had taken all of your focus and much of your time when you’d first come down here to learn how to block that foul smell out, though usually it involved handicapping your sense of smell altogether--except for with blood. Blood always pierced through any mental block you’d constructed for yourself.

Still, you were down one sense when you came down here to hunt, refusing to breathe through your nose so you wouldn’t become nauseous, sickened by the stench in the air.

The only time that changed down here was when you fed--when the scent of blood filled your every breath with your teeth latched into your most recent kill, warm at first but growing gradually colder as you drained the life from them, a hand over their mouth to muffle any sound or screams until they could make them no more.

Of course you had known about the shady individual tailing you--you had wandered aimlessly in one of the worst parts of the Underground specifically so you could draw someone out, could lure in one of the many victimizers that lurked in these dark corners and turn the tables on them, making their chosen path of victimizing and terror a fatal one. As soon as he entered the dark, isolated alley that you had turned into, you had grabbed him and dashed away with that inhuman speed of yours, pulling him into the nearest abandoned, unowned building where you immediately sank your teeth into him to satiate the hunger that had started to claw at you once again.

Hidden in the darkest corner of the abandoned building, the man had stopped moving beneath you, body turning cold, though from experience you knew he still had more blood to give. You were going to take it all, so it would last you just a little while longer before you had to delve back into the Underground’s cesspool for a fresh kill to satiate the hunger again after it returned.

By now, this was normal for you. You had been doing it for decades, and had long worked out your feelings over the moral implications of it all. This was just your way of life, how you survived. And it would continue to be for years and years to come.

One thing about scents down here--there was no wind to carry them away or towards you. So when you picked up on someone’s scent, it usually meant they were close...very close. Especially since you went out of your way to block scents down here unless you were in the middle of a feed, like right now.

As such, you stiffened when you caught the beginning traces of a familiar scent, one that was usually carried towards you on a breeze and let you know you were being watched. Tea leaves, cleanliness or cleaning products, hints of mint that might have just been a figment of your own imagination because it was something you associated with a clean smell.

Levi. And if you were catching his scent strongly enough for it to pierce through the blood you were feeding off, then he was dangerously close.

Immediately, you tried to gulp down every last drop you could, wanting to still finish so you wouldn’t have to come back down here so soon, even though your instincts were yelling at you to get out of here before he found you. As a result of your suddenly rushed attempts to finish your meal, you made a bit more of a mess than you usually did. Blood smeared across your face and dribbled down onto your shirt, some unfortunately falling to the ground below as your teeth tore into the man’s neck in an attempt to get this last bit to gush out.

You could hear him, he was just outside the building, you couldn’t wait any longer, you’d already waited too long.

How much had he seen? How long had he been onto you? How had he found you?

You could worry about that when you were safely back at the Scout’s headquarters and in the process of cleaning up any evidence you’d ever been to the Underground, right now, you had to leave.

Now you didn’t even have time to try and hide the body.

Teeth unlatching from the man’s neck, hood pulled low over your head to hide all of your features, you finally bolted, heading for the opposite side as you heard the door open, worried that you still had been too late, that he might have seen your hasty exit, or at least a flash of your cloak disappearing around the corner of the open doorway.

There was no chance to take it back now. The best you could do was damage control and dig in your heels. He might have seen your cloak, maybe, but as far as you knew, he had no way of knowing it was you. No definitive way, anyway. He hadn’t seen your face, hadn’t seen any defining features. As far as you were aware, he’d only seen your cloak. You still had a chance. Especially if you cleaned your clothes fast enough and thoroughly enough there wasn’t a trace of blood or the Underground on them.

Heart pounding as you attempted to keep yourself calm so you could act rationally and not tip your hand and give yourself away by panicking, you raced back to the surface to start disposing of evidence in the safety of your quarters.

*Levi’s POV*

Levi tried to be quick when he opened the door, intending to catch L/N in the middle of whatever was happening in here and then act accordingly. As far as he was aware, he’d acted fast enough and quietly enough he should have gotten the drop on her, even with that apparent sixth sense of hers that had allowed her to avoid him thus far. The door swung open, and he saw a blur of motion--a blur he tried to write off as simply his eyes still adjusting to the scene at first--and the flash of a dark cloak disappearing around the corner.

Levi’s eyes widened at the realization that blur or at least the cloak was L/N fleeing from the scene, a ‘Tch!’ escaping him as he dashed across the abandoned building to try and make it out the other side before she could disappear again, hand on the edge of the doorway as he slid out into the alley on the other side.

Nothing.

He rushed to the mouth, hoping that maybe she had just turned out of sight, that he wasn’t about to lose her again like he had the first time he’d followed her.

Again, nothing. Not even the sound of retreating footsteps. She was just...gone, like the first time.

“Shit!”

Swearing loudly to himself, with the sound surprisingly disconcerting when it was thrown out into the silent streets, Levi turned back to the abandoned building, the only thing he had now that L/N had fled.

She had fled, which meant that this time she might have left something behind for him to find in her haste to leave. People got sloppy when they were in a rush, and he was going to take full advantage of it.

Giving one last frustrated look down the deserted street, Levi doubled back to the abandoned building she had been inside, standing in the middle of the room as his eyes did a quick roam over his surroundings, looking for anything out of place, anything out of the ordinary.

Over in a dark corner, there was a mass, some kind of shape that looked distorted and unlike any kind of furniture or item found in an abandoned building like this. It wasn't moving, but Levi still approached with caution, the dark shape slowly taking form as Levi approached, gradually becoming clearer as Levi silently came closer.

It was a body. The tail he'd been following, from the looks of it, though Levi still didn't have a cause of death. The body was distorted and lying unnaturally, head bent at an odd angle--not broken, just left in an odd position--and it was lying face down, as if it had been dropped in a rush.

He had interrupted something. The question now was what had he interrupted. His gaze had already darkened with the realization she'd left a body behind, but whether this had been intentional or self-defense remained to be seen. The motive, her intentions, were largely going to affect how he reacted.

Levi turned the body over with his foot and froze, staring at the man’s throat. It was ripped out, like an animal had sunk its teeth all the way in but had been startled into tearing away before it was ready, bringing half the man’s throat with it. Yet, despite the gruesome sight, there were only a few drops of blood on the ground beneath the body, a couple light smears around the wound itself. When Levi crouched down to touch the body, it was ice cold against his fingers. Algor mortis shouldn’t have even started yet, the man had hardly been dead for a few moments, but there was next to no blood despite his manner of death, the body lacked all warmth--the warmth shouldn’t have drained from him for at least a half hour.

There should have been blood all over this place--should have still been some blood in him draining to the parts of his body lying on the ground. And yet…

A memory was making its way unbidden to the front of his mind, whispering sinister, impossible, dark thoughts into his mind as Levi stared at the dead man's throat. A memory of a legend Kenny once tried to scare him with, one he had dismissed as nonsense and scoffed at the impossible tale.

A tale about an immortal creature that plagued the Underground as long as there had been an Underground, choosing the miserable place because of its darkness and isolation from the sun, and its plethora of people that no one would even care if someone went missing every now and then. An undead demon with glowing red eyes, the last thing a man saw before it feasted on his blood and drained the life out of him, leaving his empty body lying in the street with his throat ripped open.

Kenny had told it to him once to scare him, to keep him from getting too cocky and thinking he was untouchable. And Levi had called him out on it, called it the bullshit he'd been so sure that it was. There was no such thing as demons or bloodsucking monsters. There were real monsters in the world, but not of this dark, fantastical variety.

And Kenny had taught him the lesson that had led him here. And made him a bit more wary of the darker corners of the world.

"Maybe not demons...or maybe there are. There's Titans above ground, right? Why wouldn't we have our own brand of monster down here?"

Kenny scratched his chin. "Whether you believe in the demon part or not, there's always a little truth to every legend. At the least, there's probably a killer somewhere down here with a signature like that who caused the stories."

Levi looked dubiously at Kenny. "Yeah? How do I know they're not just legends about your murders."

"Because, Runt. I slit throats, I don't rip 'em out."

Levi felt his blood run cold, chilling him to the core.

What he’d witnessed...she had not been a target, she had never been someone’s prey; she had been the hunter luring in an unsuspecting victim.

How long had she been doing this? A couple years at least, going off how long she'd been sneaking out to the Underground, but it probably went on before that, before she joined the military, before she even showed up on the surface. When he'd caught the smell of blood on her cloak he hadn't expected this to be the source.

“I...conduct blood rituals to achieve perfection.”

That deadpan delivery at the table in the mess hall--had she been secretly mocking them? Or, more accurately, secretly mocking him, the one trying to figure out what she was hiding?

Was she...even human?

It was insane, but so was the thought of the empty grave before he’d opened that coffin. It was madness, but it fit, it made things that had seemed alien suddenly belong in this greater picture. Where else would all this blood have gone, especially with how quickly she had to leave because of his interruption? How else would she have these senses that told her when Levi was near--that allowed her to know when she was being followed when it should have been impossible, that allowed her to see him in detail in the shadows from a distance yet still draw a perfect portrait, and had made her aware of the Titans before anyone else? That strength and ease in all of her physical requirements as a soldier had to have come from somewhere, like Levi’s, but this hadn’t been what he was thinking.

And then there was the undead thing, the immortal thing, from the story he’d heard as a child.

No, no that was pushing it too far. That she might not be human was a hard enough pill to swallow, even when he had his own superhuman abilities and lived in a world of Titans. He was not a superstitious person, and this was a hard thought to even entertain, let alone to take seriously. Even when he was staring at a corpse that strongly suggested the truth of the tale.

Even if it would explain how Y/N Frazier crawled out of her grave when it was supposed to be humanly impossible. Even though it smoothed away the question of how Y/N Frazier and Y/N L/N were connected by suggesting they were the same person.

No matter what the full truth was, he was at a point where he had to confront her either way, for everyone’s safety. He might be the only one who could match her, physically, and even then he’d have to be extra careful about his approach, because she could still overpower him if he wasn’t careful. At the very least, she was a murderer, a serial killer who hadn’t stopped even after joining the Scouts and was still regularly killing, and somewhere he used to live, no less. He had hated living down here, but part of him still took that personally.

At the worst, though, she was a monster of shadowy legend. One that preyed on humankind, like the Titans. A true enemy of mankind that it seemed almost no one was aware of. Now he knew, and he had to do something about it.

But first, the confrontation. And he better make sure he had her cornered and that he was ready for a fight. It was likely she would lash out, and he needed to be prepared for a fight for survival. He needed to be ready to handle the situation as soon as he had the truth, because whether she was a murderer or monster only affected how the fight would go and the severity of the stakes. If she was a legitimate monster as well as a murderer did not affect the fact that a fight was inevitable--it just decided how deadly it would actually be.

And he needed a contingency in case the worst happened, so the truth wouldn’t die with him.

The Scouts needed to know what lurked within their ranks. Erwin needed to know. It was all a front--something deadly was masquerading as one of them, and it needed to be stopped before it could do irreversible damage.

Next Chapter---->

Levi Tags: @clary-quinn @humanitys-hottestsoldier@whalerus @sunny-flo @thirstyforsometea

Wings in the Dark Tags: @regalillegal @animeluver23 @theshylittleelfgirl @queenthorin1 @dilucs-thighs @sociallyanxiousmouse

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pressedinthepages · 3 years

Text

Wash

Fandom: The Witcher

Pairing: Jaskier/Reader

Rating: E

Masterlist

a/n: Reader Request: [Hi! What about Jaskier saving the female reader but getting hurt in the process. So she takes care of him after. One day she's helping him to take a bath and Jaskiers body is reacting a bit too excited. But she doesn't mind and decides to extend her help a little bit …] ok so here’s the tea, i totally forgot about the jaskier saving the day part...so i wrote this instead XD

also thanks to @sometimesiwrite for being 10/10.

(There is a link on my page where you can be added to my taglist :D)

Warnings: language, smut, fluff, blood

Jaskier stumbles into a tavern and finds a friendly face.

Your chin rests in your hands as your eyelids grow heavier with each passing moment. It’s late, and there hasn’t been a guest in your tavern since the snow started falling when the sun set. Everyone headed home, leaving you here to watch the hours tick by.

Now, the moon hangs high in the sky and the snow falls steadily outside, blanketing the world in silent tranquility. That is, until the heavy door to the tavern bursts open with a flurry of snow and icy air, and quickly shut once more. But there was not only a light dusting of snow on the floor now.

A young man, seemingly deposited straight from the pages of a maiden’s storybook, leans against the door. His cloak hangs askew on his shoulders and he is clutching an expensive-looking doublet in long, pale fingers. He looks up at you and you can’t help the gasp that escapes your lips. His cheeks and nose are pink with chill, making his eyes look like they are glowing in the dim light of your tavern.

Oh, and those eyes. Bluer than the clearest sea, and you can see that they hold depths beneath them that could turn even the most experienced sailor dizzy.

“Ah, well met,” the man breathes, his chest heaving as he catches his breath in the warm room. He stands to his full height now, several inches taller than you, and slides his cloak off of his frame. You gasp when his chemise is revealed, the shoulder torn and stained with blood the color of rich wine.

You rush to his side, taking the cloak and his doublet from him and tossing them onto a nearby hook for travelers. Quickly throwing the lock down for the door, you usher him towards the rear of the tavern where your living quarters rest. “By the Gods, are you alright…?”

“Jaskier, my name is Jaskier, dear,” he smiles, but you can see the twinge of pain now that you are a bit closer. “And while I have been better, I have certainly been in nastier scraps. Nothing to be worried about.”

You give him your name in return before you turn to stoke the fire that had been warming water for your own bath that night. “Well forgive me, Jaskier, but I think that it may be a good idea for me to worry enough for the both of us.”

He genuinely laughs at that, leaning carefully against the wall. Fuck, his voice drips like honey from a pot. Your cheeks warm a bit as you lift the pot, pouring the warm water into your tub on the floor. “We need to get you cleaned up so I can take a look at that.”

Jaskier quirks a brow, mischief painting his features in broad strokes. “What, the local tavern owner is the healer too?”

You shake your head good-naturedly, gesturing to him to join you. “The closest healer is in the next town over, but I have seen my fair share of injuries.”

“Then I should count myself lucky that it was your tavern I found myself in.” Jaskier moves quickly, reaching up to pull at the already loose strings to his shirt. He undoes them and it falls open and off of him, cascading to the ground in a pool of creamy fabric streaked with crimson.

His chest is broader than it originally seemed, and, Melitele help you, covered in dark hair. You can see the strength that his body carries covered by a gentle layer of softness, almost certainly from a good diet of wine and good company.

And then he flinches as his fingers drift to the laces of his trousers, his shoulder twitching in pain. “C-could you?” He looks up sheepishly, and your hands reach out before you can think twice about it.

Your hands shake as the laces fall open and you look up and away to try and preserve at least some of his modesty, but you can feel how warm and solid his legs are as you push the pants down to the ground.

“Thank you, sweet girl,” Jaskier says, holding his hand out to help you up. You lead him towards the warm bath you’ve prepared and help him settle in before pulling up a stool behind him.

The moan that he lets out, though, when he reclines back in the bath, would make a priestess blush. The heat from the water flushes his chest and his head thunks against the rim of the tub and his blue, blue eyes blink open at you.

You swallow in an attempt to quell the redness creeping across your cheeks, but it's no good. The best you can hope for is that your professionalism won't let you down.

"We should get that wound clean and bandaged before you lose blood into the hot water," you say, having dealt with your fair share of injuries from tavern brawls and travelers. Even a witcher once came through with a bloody brow... took some convincing to let you clean him up, but he eventually conceded. He was nice, you thought as you got your med kit from behind the bar. Nicer than you'd've expected when he first came in, scowling and bloody and asking for vodka. You hum to yourself as you look for the right bottle.

“Do you sing?” Jaskier asks, seemingly unperturbed by his injury. You turn back to him with the bottle of clear alcohol in hand, your skirt swirling around on the floor. “Not typically, no,” you reply, sitting back down on the stool and uncorking the bottle. Your free hand finds his uninjured shoulder and rubs soothing circles over the tan skin. “This will sting.”

He inhales sharply and grits out a moan as the everclear wicks into his open wound, “Vayopatis that smarts!!”

“I’m sorry. A bit of tough love, I’m afraid. Hold still.” Your words are firm but your touch is gentle and caring as you continue.

“So,” you ask lightly as you dip a clean cloth into the water, lifting it to the wound, “just how did you find yourself with this?”

“Ah, nothing far out of sorts,” Jaskier replies, his voice thin and pained. “Heard someone speaking poorly of a dear friend of mine, so I gave them a piece of my mind. As I turned to walk away, they threw a knife at me! A KNIFE! Coward.”

“Seems you got lucky, looks like it just grazed the skin.” The wound has stopped bleeding now, and Jaskier seems to be melting a bit under your hands. “You still with me?”

“Oh, very much so,” Jaskiers voice is thick and strained, and his neck has flushed a pretty pink.

“Would you like me to help, ah...wash?” Your voice trembles a bit as you reach down next to you for the soap.

Jaskier smiles, his shoulders relaxing and his knees poking up above the water as he gets comfortable. “I’ll never say no to a bath from a lovely lady.”

You roll your eyes and laugh a little, the tension easing away like suds in the water. You add some soap to the cloth and drag it across his back, over the lines of muscle and down his spine. You are careful around the tender skin of his injured shoulder, but he seems content to lay and let you wash him.

The air turns thick in the room with the warmth of the water and you can feel sweat bead at the nape of your neck. You unlace the neck of your shirt and let it fall open, the soft skin of your breasts just peeking out into the night. You stand and bring the stool around to sit at Jaskiers side facing him, and you don’t miss when his eyes linger on your exposed bosom.

You hold out your hand expectantly and Jaskier’s gaze falls to your fingers. He stares for a moment, his mind drawing a blank as the air around him feels tighter and tighter. You clear your throat and wiggle your fingers, and Jaskier finally gets the hint. He slides his hand into yours and you hold up his arm, running the soapy cloth down from his shoulder to his wrist. The grime of travel is washed away with every stroke, and Jaskier swallows thickly with each passing moment, warmth blossoming low in his belly.

You can’t claim to be unaffected either, for you can feel his gaze burning into your skin like a brand. But not in an unwelcome, perverse way. No, Jaskier’s eyes watching your every move feel curious, searching for an answer to a yet unasked question.

Once both arms are clean you lean in, pressing the cloth to the broad expanse of his chest. You drag it lazily over the crook of his collarbone and down through the soft smattering of hair on his skin. His breath hitches and his cheeks turn pink when you brush over his nipple, and you bite the inside of your cheek in an effort to stifle your own moan at the noise.

Your hand drifts lower over his stomach and you can feel it rise and fall with each of his breaths. You are just about to dip below the line of the water when Jaskier’s hand suddenly darts out and catches your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. You instantly retreat, cheeks growing warm with the ideas of what exactly you were about to do.

“Ah, darling, wait,” Jaskier breathes, keeping your hand tight in his. “I just-I didn’t want you to get the wrong idea...y-you’ve been so wonderful and I-uh, my body is ah, well. Very appreciative...”

You blink as your heart does flips in your chest and you only barely resist the urge to glance down to the water between his legs. “Well, if you wanted...I coul-I could help?”

And then, Jaskier’s face does something truly remarkable. It turns from the soft, apologetic young man to something darker, more primal. His eyes dilate and he grins toothily, and he tips his chin up, exposing the graceful line of his neck. “If you’re certain, darling, be my guest.”

His grip on your hand loosens, though he keeps you well within his grasp. Your hand goes back to his stomach and your fingers drift lower and lower, teasing at the edge of the water before plunging in. Jaskier’s eyes flutter closed and his breath catches when you find his arousal between his legs, hard and straining just past where the eye could see.

You carefully wrap your hand around the base, feeling the coarse hairs tickle your fingers. His cock throbs at your touch and you move your hand slowly, tugging gently up and back down. “Gods, woman,” Jaskier rasps, his fingers flexing where they now grip the rim of the tub, “h-how are your hands s-so soft?”

“Softer somewhere else,” you whisper, smirking with a wink when his eyes shoot open and grip yours with fervor. Your hand moves faster, just a bit, but enough to have his hips rocking up to meet you.

“Fuck,” Jaskier’s chest rises high and falls far with every gulping breath that is pulled from him. You lean in and press your lips to his skin, hot and wet and by the Gods so are you. Warmth pools low in your belly as you watch Jaskier fall apart under your hand, and for a fleeting moment, you think about what it may be like to have this in your bed.

“C’mon, Jaskier,” you murmur against his skin, twisting your wrist and squeezing lightly around him, “let me take care of you.”

Jaskier nods and swallows thickly, his hips thrusting harder and harder, chasing a quickly approaching high. Water sloshes out onto the floor and he gasps for air as he grows closer and closer under your watchful eye. “P-please, holy hells, I ju-”

“Go on, Jaskier,” you murmur into the hollow of his throat, “give me your pleasure.”

And then, seemingly quite surprisingly to him, he does.

A ragged gasp tears from his throat as he throws his head back, stuttering up into your hand. Warmth coats your fingers and you slow, still intent on wringing every last drop from him. Jaskier in the throes of climax is a glorious sight, his cheeks pink and muscles tensed, teeth bared with every breath he pulls. His stomach tenses and you move your hand away, not wanting to push too far. You press your lips to his neck one last time before standing, crossing over to the drying cloth that hangs on the back of your door.

“J-just give me a moment, darling,” Jaskier breathes, slowly blinking his eyes open. “I’ll gladly return the favor.”

You bring your washing jug over to the bath and set it on the stool along with the cloth. “Don’t worry about me, Jaskier,” you murmur as you help him to stand in the bath, “I just wanted to make you feel good.”

You find the washing cloth and dip it into the jug, wiping Jaskier down from the now-soiled bathwater. Now that he’s standing and you feel a bit more comfortable, you are able to truly appreciate just how pretty his cock is. Long and just thick enough, with dark hair around the base between his legs. And, Gods be good, half-hard against his thigh. You look up at him through your lashes and find him reaching for you, fitting his finger under your chin and bringing you to close the gap.

“And now,” he whispers darkly, danger dripping with honey, “I’d like to make you feel good.”

#jaskier x reader #smut #fluff

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missblackstar · 3 years

Text

inuokko week, day two

it's actually 25th here, so it's inuokko week, day three, sorry, i had a rough day yesterday, taking my first hit of vaccine for covid-19, and i felt like my head was being split open ;-; i couldn't really concentrate and write anything. so here, have a delayed ficlet for day two and in few hours, late evening probably, i will post sth for actual day three, hehe.

i was supposed to stick to tier 1, but i love soulmate au, so i couldn't resist lol. hope you'll like it. it's mainly hurt/comfort, i would say...

warnings: mentions of blood, injuries and child abuse, beware!

inuokko week 2021 | tier 2, day 2 | soulmate au

"to think we would bruise so easily"

and I think about it all the time,

lights went out, you were fine,

you kinda struggle not to shine,

he's four and there's a small cut on his right wrist, he could swear wasn't here before.

it's barely visible and his mother just shrugs, says it won't even scar, probably.

she's right. but the cut doesn't hurt.

he's seven and in the span of last three years, there were a lot of fingers-shaped bruises, suddenly appearing on his wrists, or ribs. as if out of nowhere.

slashes on his forearms, near his neck, blood dripping on the new carpet; those ones scarring more easily.

he's eight and he already knows what it means.

he knows what it mean to get an angry red mark and don't feel anything.

(no pain, or the shock of it, nothing.)

but still be able to press on it; see the skin there reddening, in the middle of the night, tissue raw and blotchy.

a soulmate. he has a soulmate. someone made only for him. with whom he will share everything. as he is sharing now.

all those marks and bruises.

a constellation of purples and yellows. of faded scars and untold stories.

(he just wished he could share the pain too.)

he's nine and his mother screams, dropping the plate she's holding, look of absolute horror and incredulity on her face.

he looks in the mirror.

his brows furrowing, this is a new one. an entirely new shape, new texture to the skin, placed right under his left eye; it's something he didn't see before, something he's not accustomed to.

(later he learns it's what cigarette burn would look like.)

(his heart breaking and bleeding and burning, all the same.)

(it's kind of funny.)

(as his soulmate would never know that.)

(it's not a thing you can see, after all.)

he's ten; a whole month have passed, with no blemish coming into view.

that makes him wonder.

if his soulmate is already cold and dead, buried somewhere, and he didn't even stood a chance to meet them and save them, or if they're finally safe.

(he wish for the latter.)

he's eleven when he gets a scar of his own.

the gash on his left knee bloody and itchy. bordering on painful. as he tripped on his way home, running after his friends, laughter bubbling inside his chest.

now it's tears gathering at his eyelashes, even if he thinks of himself as old enough, to not let them spill.

(maybe those are tears of joy really.)

(as he thinks, it's finally the time.)

(for his soulmate to have something of his imprinted on their body.)

(if they're even still out there.)

he's fifteen and amethyst eyes are boring right into his. the light in them stunning, taking his breath away.

one of his friends knocks their sholuder against his, snapping him out of trance.

(he still can't remove that one thought from his mind, though.)

(this is the most beautiful color i've ever seen.)

he's still fifteen when he sees the boy again. it's quick, in passing.

so he doesn't have time to yell, to stop him, grab his attention and asks.

even if he needs to ask, because he has time to see, and he saw plenty enough.

(he would never forgot those scars.)

"i've heard inumaki's mostly mute"

"really?"

"yeah, that has something to do with his biological mother"

"meaning?"

"she was abusing him. abusing him badly. they finally did something about him, when he was nine. they found him a new family, stripped her off custody. he moved here last year. i've seen him using sign language though"

he stands there, unmoving. listening.

soon, there's a sob threatening to leave his mouth, throat contracting. he looks at the inside of his right wrist and reminiscences.

a cut there, when inumaki was only three.

(he dosen't think about all the bruises and marks.)

(appearing only to fade.)

(before he can even remember them.)

(he doesn't want to.)

he's sixteen and he finally meets his soulmate.

(more like get his courage to finally approach the boy, looking so soft and sweet, with an oversized sweater and strands of (almost)white hair falling into purple eyes, from where the boy's perched on the bench, book in hand.)

(the sun setting around them. orange, red.)

there's an undescribed amount of emotions he feels; joy and love and strange sadness, the pity and gratitude.

relief. (that his soulmate is alive and here.)

his fingers are itching for him to touch. to map all the scars he can see, all the imperfections attached to fair skin.

(inumaki's really a sight to behold.)

(the boy's skin a perfect replica of his own. of what they will always share.)

but for now, he settles for a smile. genuine, albeit shy.

"hi, i'm yuuta"

'i'm toge', his companion signs, the book suddenly forgotten; it doesn't escape his eyes, when the other boy takes his full visage in, amethyst eyes brimming with disbelief. and something else shining there.

(is it relief also or happiness, or something in between?)

(the feeling you gain when it all seems to click, just like that.)

(like you just found what you needed the most.)

(that you've been forever searching for.)

his smile widens, warmth spreading inside, heart fluttering. he takes a shuddering breath, in and out, brings his hand up and signs back.

'it's really nice to meet you'

i still love you, though,

i still love you always, |x|

it's much longer than the last one, huh. the ending is quite open, so you can see what happen next as you wish, but in my mind they will only grown from there, fiding their place, right next to each other.

in this story, every person have their soulmate, and everything that appears on your soulmate's skin will appear on yours, and viceversa. i didn't give much thoughts to drawings and tattoos, if it would include them too, but i guess it could, just didn't write any scene impling it. though the things will appear on your skin, at the same time, there are "inflicted" on your soulmate's, there is no pain, or any other feeling of discomfort to it.

i'm sorry that i made toge suffer, that just seemed to do well with the idea and overall story. toge, i love you.

my grammar is awful xD

#inuokko #inuokkoweek #day 2 #soulmate au #i'm late #sorry #mind the warnings #no curses au

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spadesinglasses · 3 years

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Korean BLs (Series)

Under the see more is a compilation of all of my thoughts for the korean bls that came out in 2020 and in the start of 2021 so namely, the BLs that will be mentioned here are; Where Your Eyes Linger, Mr. Heart, To My Star, Color Rush, and Wish You : Your Melody From My Heart.

As a TLDR this is how I would rank these five.

To My Star

Wish You : Your Melody From My Heart

Where Your Eyes Linger

Mr. Heart

Color Rush

Let’s do this in order.

Wish You : Your Melody From My Heart

I ADORE THIS BL SO MUCH.

It was such a light series. The conflict was not heavy and it was resolved very quickly. I think it would’ve been more dramatic if the series was longer, but since its very short, they fortunately decided to resolve it as soon as possible, and because of that no time was wasted between the leads. And the actually got a happy ending.

Kang In Soo and Yoon Sang Yi are both precious ;A;.

Sang Yi’s thirst was so strong and palpable it was a miracle that In Soo didn’t realize it, specially when homeboy was staring hard hard at his hard body lololol.

I get lowkey annoyed whenever I see reviews about this series and then putting a mark on the story as like 6 out of 10 or something, because most of the time the thing they are criticizing it for, and the reason why its so low is because of the length. They really went flexible who?

Personally yes the story or conflict was easy and light, but if you’re going to critic it base on how long the entire series it, it was pretty smart to do so. The conflict was not just the father blocking his son’s debut, It was ongoing from start to finish, from even the series started.

WE SEE in the first episode at how much In Soo struggled on the streets busking, getting his music out there one way or another. The Problem was not created at the time his father did what he did, it goes way before it.

The issue wasn’t also farfetched. We all know in real life that parents can be fucking assholes. So also claiming the story was out of the blue or nowhere is fucking dumb.

LET’S TALK ABOUT THE MUSIC. Honestly I’m no wise dude regarding music. I listen to a song and I base whether I like it or not, on how the song or music makes me feel. And honestly, the music in the series were beautiful I truly love it.

The supporting characters are also dope! I forgot the person who basically pushed Sang Yi to In Soo, but in this house we stan her so much!

Where Your Eyes Linger

I was hesitant on starting this one. I don’t like violence specially around homosexuality. It just stirs so much bad emotion in me. So when I saw that scene of Han Tae Joo’s father beating Kang Gook, i cannot make myself see more of the show.

But I gave in and watched it. It was adorable and actually heavy. I think its the heaviest out of these five examples and I’ll tell you why. (because I just know you’re wondering why this is heavier than Color Rush.)

The story revolved around multiple tropes or relationship marks. First is the servant and master trope, then it went to unrequited love to a friend, then to a master, and then after that it went to jealousy with a new love interest, and then it ended with them not realizing their own feelings until it’s already too late.

Now before I watched this series, I’ve already heard about the opinion of this series being a fanfic plot brought to life, and honestly yes.

the Servant Master trope and then falling in love with one another is a very popular trope in fanfics, and the way the dealt with it is very reminiscent to how a fanfic writer would usually go about it.

Other than that, the story actually help quite strongly despite the tropes they used.

Kang Gook’s fears and uncertainties were actually reasonable. I wished we got more of their backstories, but its logical to see Kang Gook struggle that much with how he feels for Tae Joo.

Han Tae Joo’s realization after Kang Gook started spending time with the girl was similar to the feeling of “only realizing what they have after they already lost them” feeling and it was such a heart breaking moment. It was a bit annoying to see him struggle that much to put a name in the feeling he was feeling as if homosexuality was just created right before his eyes, but he eventually got there i guess.

Tae Joo’s father was annoying. What he did was a typical parent move, hence annoying.

The ending was satisfying, but also questionable.

I found Kang Gook’s sudden ... change in how he dress and move completely out of the blue. I don’t know if it was just to signify that he was finally not working for Tae Joo’s father and now he’s not restricted to some hyper masculine facade or if it’s a way of the director show what being gay and accepting homosexuality looks like. But whatevs, I’m not gonna dissect that one because I’m sure it’s gonna be a blood bath when I do it.

Mr. Heart

This show was confusing at first then it made sense. Let me explain.

The series started with the two already chummy.

Go Sang Ha is already open about what he feels for Jin Won. While Jin Won was the typical ass with repressed feelings. Their main conflict was the constant miscommunication between the two.

They show love in two different ways. Act of service, and gifts and money. It’s one of the reasons why the two didn’t get together in the first place in my opinion. They both have issues that both are running away from.

Aside from that there was also the minor conflict with Sang Ha and his debt. The debt people were of two extremes, being very chummy with Sang Ha or downright horrible, e.g. the scene where he beats Sang Ha up.

There is not much to say about this series. It’s very straight forward, and Jin Won actually straight up called out Sang Ha for running away during the time they actually do need to communicate to one another.

ALTHOUGH I SHOULD SAY JIN WON PUNCHING SANG HA WAS UNNECESSARY AND OUT OF PLACE. That was stupid of him to do and I was very annoyed at him during that time. If you want to put Sang Ha out of his spiral, you could’ve just shout, or shake him. But no, you punched him, IN THE GODDAMN FACE.

That was stupid honestly.

To My Star

I LOOOOOVE THIS ONE.

The start of the series was confusing because I literally kid you not, i was confused who the guy with the motor helmet on is. Like I genuinely thought he was a different person and not Kang Seo Joon.

The characters are phenomenal. They portray and embrace the opposite attracts trope but also found a compromise, or stable footing for each differing personality to meet the other.

It was lovely to see mr hot, and mr. cold be in the kitchen. Seo Joon’s personality was so bubbly and light that I was surprised to what really happened in that restaurant. (Altho to be fair he did keep it a secret mostly because of his issue and not just because he doesn’t want his friend to have bad press lol I really thought it was because someone was being homophobic while they were on a date lolol)

I RELATE SOOOO HARD TO JI WOO. I myself loves not disrupting my peace bubble. I would literally do everything I can as to not have any form of conflict with another person. It’s very problematic and destructive to my own being in the long term, but for short term comfort, I would take it lol.

So to see Ji Woo express what he was thinking while he was rejecting Seo Joon’s advances, made me cry so much. Because I see myself doing that. I see myself saying no to someone because I’m so scared. Add to the fact that homosexuality is still judged in public spaces, I WANNA LOVE A GUY THAT I CAN HOLD HANDS OUTSIDE WITHOUT FEAR.

SO I do get it, I do get Ji Woo and it was so heart breaking to see him suffer because people are fucking assholes.

Seo Joon’s lines about loving people who have high walls because they look so strong and sturdy is a mood because that is so relatable. I wanna be surround by people who looks sturdy, and will be there for me. Seo Joon hiding this side of him with bubbliness and bursts of joy was so sad.

I tweeted this on twitter but let me repeat it here.

I LOVE THE FACT THAT SEO JOON WAS STILL THE ONE WHO CAME BACK TO JI WOO.

People might disagree with me and say that it’s better to see Ji Woo be the one who takes the initiative this time to get Seo Joon back, because it shows character development BUT HONEY.

Big changes like that are not a thing in real life! PEOPLE CAN’T JUST CHANGE THEMSELVES INSTANTLY LIKE THAT. Yes they can do stuff out of a sudden burst of emotions but its not a common thing.

So to see Seo Joon come back, and see Ji Woo so heart broken was so fucking good I love it so much.

Seo Joon pushed for the last time, and you can just see Ji Woo just tired of fighting inside him. He probably has a monologue inside him shouting, “please come back, please come back” when Seo Joon left. And to see him just deflate when Seo Joon did came back was soooo satisfying.

THIS IS NOT AN EXCUSE TO NOT KNOW WHAT A NO IS. You’re not Seo Joon and you situation is not like theirs, so shut up.

lol.

OH DON’T GET ME STARTED WITH THE ANTAGONISTS OF THIS SERIES. Let’s talk about the actor from Seo Joon’s side. The bitch ass really took Seo Joon’s decision and ran away with it like nobody’s business. He really deluded himself and justified in his head all that shit. AND THE AUDACITY to ask Seo Joon to take the fall more was fucking hilarious. He deserves the hate bitch ass shit.

NOW FOR THE FUCKER THAT IS JI WOO’S FRIEND. BITCH KNOWS JI WOO FOR SUCH A LONG TIME NOW, and he has the audacity to pull that shit up in front of him?

Like bruh you know your friend, do you really think he’s the type of guy to do something like that? HILARIOUS.

I think his friend secretly likes him, so when he saw Seo Joon getting chummy around Ji Woo, and seeing Ji Woo show sides because of him, he got extremely jealous.

SO YOU KNOW WHAT ITS A GOOD THING THE REPORT WOMAN ALSO LEFT HIM BECAUSE FUCKING THAT DUDE.

The US reporter woman was funny tho. xD She really went to arms and defended Seo Joon and Ji Woo to him. The bit with the other employee was funny too. He deserves all the misfortune in his life lmao. That’s what you get from outing a gay guy.

WOOPS THIS GOT TOO LONG. I JUST LOVE IT SO MUCH.

Color Rush

OKAY.

So Color Rush has the most interesting premise of all of them. That I have to admit.

Other than that the series was lacking.

There are two main plots happening, one is the killings of the mono or probe? I forgot, and the plot of whatever is happening between Choi Yeon Woo and Go Yoo Han.

The series was too short for these two plots. The plot behind the killing was completely disregarded. While the relationship between Yeon Woo and Yoo Han were emphasized.

The ending also confused me. Everyone just forgot that Yeon Woo and Yoo Han ran away? and that Yoo Yan’s family basically threatened to claim Yeon Woo kidnapped his probe? REALLY?

Specially with all of them being in high positions of power? That’s dumb. I really think that they were wrong as to what plot they should emphasize. If the series focused on Yeon Woo and his aunt Yoo Yi Rang solving the case of the killed probes while Yoo Han secretly helps them out with his connections, it would’ve been a much more interesting series.

The ending of Yeon Woo and Yoo Han would also be more acceptable because now they all know that someone else was behind the killings and its not just the monos going crazy.

Aside from the cute very seldom scenes between the two, and how awkward some of them are. The series really lacked for me.

If you like Color Rush good for you.

This might be unnecessary to add but, something about the actor of Yoo Han makes me uncomfortable. His recent or at least post series statements really unnerves me. If you have no problem with it, cool.

That is all! I think there’s a new incoming korean BL from the same director or at least same universe/line as Where your eyes linger, mr heart, and To my star, called You Make Me Dance? That will be something to anticipate about :D.

FINAL REMARKS

Despite being new to the game of BL, korean BLs were really so good. The plots are not as problematic, or toxic as the other bls from other countries were and honestly I’m very impressed.

They seem to have a much more knowledgeable grasp of what a BL should be by avoiding toxic behaviors and just annoying ass plots. Not naming any names but ya know.

Any who, these five were a nice thing to watch.

I ENTHUSIASTICALLY ADVOCATE AND SUGGEST FOR Y’ALL TO WATCH TO MY STAR AND WISH YOU YOUR MELODY FROM MY HEART IF Y’ALL WANT TO BE HAPPY.

#where your eyes linger #to my star #wish you your melody from my heart #mr. heart #color rush #korean bl #kbls #glass thoughts

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samsexualdeancurious · 3 years

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Pretty Baby (There's Nothing That I Wouldn't Do) (NSFW)

Pairing: Sam x Dean x Jess

Words: 1,954

Summary: Dean and Jess picked out a Halloween costume for Sam and they might like it a little too much.

Warnings: Feminization (Sam dresses up like Britney Spears lol), Bottom!Sam, Top!Dean, F/M/M threesome, oral sex (woman recieving)

This is the first fic in an AU @samsbighonkintiddies and I have been working on. I actually wrote this way back in like. May. And then forgot to post it here xD (at least. I think I forgot to post it? I can't find it on my blog, so I'm assuming I didn't. Sorry if I did, lol)

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October 31, 2006

Sam’s stocking-covered heel rests on Dean’s shoulder, his other impossibly-long leg splayed to the side. His blush has deepened, pink creeping from his cheeks to his chest as Dean’s huge hand strokes down the outside of his leg. Jess stretches out beside Sam on the bed and pulls his leg over hers, opening him up even more to Dean’s hungry gaze.

“Jess,” Sam gasps when her slender fingers dance up the inside of his thigh.

She grins and presses a kiss to the curve of his shoulder. “Yes?”

“Don’t tease.”

“It’s not teasing if we plan to follow through,” Dean smirks and his brother huffs.

“Please.”

“Oh, I like that.” Jess teases at the top of the stocking, her touch sending shivers through his body. “What do you want, sweetheart?”

This hadn’t been the plan. They were supposed to go out. There’s a Halloween party down the street at Brady’s place, and they were going to hit up another party at a bar later in the night. All those plans went out the window, though, the minute Dean and Jess laid eyes on Sam in his costume.

They’d picked it out for him, of course. A little plaid skirt, white button-up, and grey sweater, à la Brittney Spears “...Baby One More Time” - Jess’s idea, surprisingly. A pair of black stockings and heels complete the look. Sam had stammered and blushed so pretty but caved easily when Jess turned those big blue eyes on him.

“Just try it on,” she said. “For us?”

Sam huffed, grumbled under his breath, and took the clothes into the bathroom to change. When he emerged about ten minutes later, fully dressed from the tied up shirt to the heels, Dean’s pretty sure his brain broke with how quickly the blood rushed to his dick.

“Oh, shit.”

Sam’s cheeks are burning, adorable spots of color high on his cheeks as Dean takes in the sight of him. His baby brother has grown up a lot in the last few years, shedding almost every bit of lingering baby fat in return for lean muscles that look absolutely sinful wrapped up in the soft fabrics of the outfit. He’s pouting a little, though, and Dean can’t unsee the snarky teenager in that expression. Some things never change, including the slight whine in Sam’s voice when he says, “There's no way I'm walking to Brady’s or going anywhere near a bar in these heels.”

Jess exits the closet at that moment, dressed in a sexy witch costume that Dean had rolled his eyes at in store but is definitely changing his mind about now, and lets out a low whistle when her eyes land on Sam. “Oh, baby,” she says in that tone Dean is quickly learning guarantees all sorts of good things. “That shouldn't be a problem. I don't think you're going any further than our bed.”

That’s where Sam is now, sprawled on his back in the center of their mattress. His heels and sweater are gone, his skirt draped between his legs to maintain what little modesty Sam has left. His shirt is wide open, baring his chest to Jess’s questing hands, and his stockings have been left on at Dean’s insistence. They’re just simple, black stockings but Dean’s already thinking of all the possible outfits they might be able to get Sam to wear in the future. Maybe white next time, with lace.

“C’mon, Sam,” Jess purrs. “Tell us what you want.”

Sam squirms, caught between Dean’s hand on his ankles and Jess’s on his thigh and chest. “I want Dean to fuck me.”

Dean can’t suppress a groan at that. “Happily.”

Jess smirks up at Dean, something mischievous in her eyes. “Wanna show Dean the surprise I planned for him?”

Sam’s breath hitches and Dean’s eyes jump between their faces, confused until Sam’s hands creep down to the hem of his skirt.

“Go on,” Jess encourages. “Show him.”

At first Dean’s not sure what he’s seeing, as Sam nervously lifts his skirt, but then things click into place and he has to drop a hand down to press the heel of it against his dick through his jeans. The panties are black, like Sam’s stockings, with little ruffles along the edges and a tiny matching bow at the top, right above Sam’s hard cock.

“Sam,” Dean moans, sliding his hand down to touch the ruffles at the top of his brother’s thigh. “Fuck, you’re gonna be the death of me.”

Jess grins, her hand mirroring Dean’s on the other side. “You like?”

“Fucking gorgeous.” Dean presses a kiss to the inside of Sam’s ankle. “God, Sam, you should see yourself. Never seen anything like you before.”

Sam’s still blushing but he doesn’t seem as nervous as before. “Yeah?”

“Oh, yeah.” Allowing Sam’s leg to slide from his shoulder to the crook of his arm, Dean leans forward to capture his brother’s lips in a kiss. “Gonna give you what you want.”

“‘Bout time.”

Jess laughs and Dean rolls his eyes, reaching over to grab the lube from the bedside table. Not even nerves can kill that little brother sass, apparently.

“Definitely leaving these on,” Dean says as he pulls the panties to the side and presses two lube-slicked fingers against his brother’s hole. “I wanna see you ruin them.”

Jess sits up and reaches down to take over holding the panties out of the way. “I second that.”

Sam just groans, head thrown back against the pillow as Dean begins working him open. His abs flex as he rolls his hips down against his brother’s hand. They haven’t been at it long but Sam already looks debauched. His lips are kiss-swollen and shiny in the lamplight, parted to let out breathy little sounds, each of which goes right to Dean’s cock.

“Should put that mouth to good use,” Dean suggests, two fingers knuckle-deep in his brother’s hole. He meets Jess’s gaze and she grins.

“I like the way you think, Winchester.”

She lifts her own skirt to reveal red panties in a similar style to Sam’s. These are quickly shimmied down her long legs - how did Dean land two partners with absolutely fantastic legs? He’s not sure but he’ll never complain - and tossed aside. Sam is already reaching for her, his hands huge against her thighs as he guides her to straddle his face. Jess tosses her curls over her shoulder with a sigh as she settles into place exactly where he wants her. Dean takes in that sight with a groan, admiring the curves of her body when her back arches with pleasure and her head tips back. He’s going to have to get her to wear that costume again for sure.

“You gonna fuck your brother any time tonight?” Jess asks, one hand flailing a little before Sam catches it with his own and holds her steady.

Dean curls his fingers just to hear Sam’s muffled sounds of pleasure, which are echoed by Jess. He grins. “Get to it.”

It’s Dean’s turn to strip now. His costume isn’t anything special, especially since he left his cowboy hat and boots in the living room, but he did put his belt on already and he regrets that when he has to take the extra time to get that off before he can shed his jeans.

“De-ean,” Sam whines from beneath Jess and Dean looks up from kicking his jeans off to see his brother spread his legs even wider. His panties are still twisted to the side, ruffles caught between his ass cheeks where Dean can see the shine of lube waiting for him.

“Fuck.” Dean scrambles up the bed to kneel between Sam’s legs again. “I gotcha.”

“He’s getting impatient,” Jess says with a breathy laugh, her hips rolling as Sam gets to work again. “Oh, fuck, right there.”

Dean quickly slicks his cock and lines up. Sam’s tight, even after all Dean’s work opening him up, and his fingers flex against Jess’s thigh when the head of Dean’s cock pops inside.

“Fucking perfect,” Dean praises. He pets Sam’s inner thighs, soothing his trembling muscles as Dean works his way deeper. “Feel so good.”

Jess cries out then and falls forward. Dean instinctively throws his arms up to catch her and she clings to him, fingernails digging into his bicep as her body spasms through an orgasm. Sam holds her in place until she’s whining and pulling away. They ease her to lay down above Sam’s head, curled on her side to catch her breath as she watches them through hooded eyes.

Free of Jess’s weight, Sam reaches up to grab at Dean’s shoulders and yank him down into a kiss. He tastes like her but the low growl of “Fuck me” he lets out against Dean’s lips is all Sam.

Dean’s never been able to say no to Sam and he’s not about to start now. He drives in the rest of the way in one smooth push, echoing Sam’s sound of pleasure with one of his own.

“C’mon,” Sam hisses in his ear. “Give it to me, big brother.”

Dean does just that. He would normally start slow, give Sam time to get used to the intrusion, but not tonight. Not with stocking-clad knees tight around his hips and the brush of silky panty ruffles against the side of his dick. Sam’s arms are looped around Dean’s neck, holding him close so he can pant words of encouragement in the elder Winchester’s ear. Dean’s arms creep their way under Sam’s lower back and hold on like Sam will vanish if he loosens up. Sam’s narrow waist fits perfectly into Dean’s embrace. Moments like these, it feels as if they were made to fit together. Maybe they were.

Pleasure coils at the base of Dean’s spine and he drives in deeper, like doing so will somehow connect them together even more. Like he can crawl inside Sam’s skin if he just tries hard enough. He can’t, he knows he can’t, but what he can do is change the angle of his hips just so and punch a wail of pleasure from his brother’s throat.

“Yeah,” Dean grunts, hips working. “Yeah, let it go. Wanna feel it.”

Sam buries his face in Dean’s neck with a cry and his whole body clenches, releases, clenches again as he falls over that edge. Dean doesn’t slow down, even when Sam goes limp in his arms. The sounds Sam’s making shift to something a little whiny, probably oversensitive, but he doesn’t tell Dean to stop and so Dean doesn’t, not until he’s reached his own peak and spilled deep in his brother’s body.

Silence falls over the room, broken only by their breathing as they calm down. When Dean lifts his head, he finds that Jess has rolled onto her back and her hand is working between her thighs.

“Let me,” he offers, reaching out, and she moves her hand to let him replace it with his own. She’s absolutely soaked, wetter than the front of Sam’s panties where the brothers are pressed together, and it doesn’t take much to have her cumming on his fingers. “We put on a good show, huh?”

“Always do,” she replies with a grin and a lazy stretch. “I should probably let Brady know we’re probably not gonna make it to his party.”

Dean takes a glance at Sam’s fucked-out expression and laughs. “Yeah. I’d say the chances of us showing up are pretty low.”

Jess rolls onto her side again and presses a kiss to Sam’s temple. “Still hate Halloween?”

Sam huffs out a laugh, still a bit breathless. “I dunno. If we keep celebrating like this, I might come around to it.”

—

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Team Forever: @mrswhozeewhatsis @manawhaat @books-and-icecream @laughing-at-the-darkness @tumbler-tidbits @emoryhemsworth @imsuperawkward @onethirstyunicorn

#my writing #sam x dean x jess #samdeanjess #spn fanfic #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fanfic #supernatural fic

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btswishes · 4 years

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What we were and what we are

One Shot/ Random

A/N: Take it as an emotional dump. I will put a keep readying line since I don’t think anyone would want to read this. XD Have fun anyways if you wish to stay friend. Who knows maybe it could be a Yoongi x Reader , friends to lovers story, idk.

Word count: 2,535

Playlist recommended for this : Jin-Epiphany Big Bang- Loser Big Bang- Blue at the end you can try BTS- We Are Bulletproof The Eternal

Warnings: dark, anxiety, talk of trauma , be yourself please

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The sky was covered with soft cotton candy like clouds, tinted in the colors of the ending day. Oranges, reds, blues, yellows, you name it it was there. The wind was warm and but a whispering tender sensation over your exposed skin. The grass pillowing your body under the roughly placed cover, as your head moved up and down by Yoongi’s breath. Laying onto him felt like a antidepressant pill to you.Time had stopped. He was leaning onto his left arm as you both were looking up at the sky. His free hand from time to time brushing over your hair.

“Your mom is calling.” he said taking a glance at your lit up phone screen

“Leave it.” you didn’t even use all the breath in your lungs with this sentence.

“Shouldn’t you pick up tho? I mean she is your mom.” Yoongi’s eyes now focused onto you

“Nah man, she is probably mad at me for something. My mom or not, good or shitty relationship, no matter how much parents say ‘i understand you’ or ‘i was your age once too’ .It never works, telling them anything ends up being a pain in the ass later. Asking for help when you fuck up is the same.” you tried following a lonely cloud with the corner of your eye

“I guess them not accepting that something is wrong with their kids is a defense mechanism.”

“That fucks us up tho. Just because they want to lie to themselves to feel better, leaves their kids untreated and undiagnosed ,messing them up. Years of being bullied and not knowing why, can’t study even if they try, can’t be themselves. Such an easy solution, yet such a hard choice to make to take the first step.” you sighed as you spoke out, a bit of disappointment mixed in with your breath.

“Ha ha ha.” Yoongi laughed under his nose before laying back down

“The fuck did I say?” you cut him off, thinking the giggle was a bit displaced in this talk

“And when you take the first step? What then? The so called professionals lie to us too, give us chemistry and tell us all will be ok as they turn us into addicts to fake serotonin. Psychologists? The word comes from Greek meaning the study of the soul, yet those assholes look at us as bags of meat that you can stuff with pills. Yet we would do anything to get that drop of calmness, that feeling of being a bit happy for being alive right now. And when the effect passes? You want more and more, pill after pill, pharmacy after pharmacy. What difference is there between us people with anxiety and disorders and drug addicts? The medical degree probably.”

You smirked after his last words “ Not all doctors are bad, but you can feel how genuine they are, the rest are health merchants. I don’t think there was a difference in the first place. Drugs, alcohol, smoking fuck it, even sex, man. It’s all to fill that void with dopamine, serotonin and all the bio crap.”

“Isn’t that chemistry tho?”

“We learned it in biology class so it’s bio to me. Do I look like a professor to you?” you rolled over and flicked his nose earning a ‘yah!’ “Hey.”

“Wasup?” Yoongi pulled his hand from under his head and spread his arms wide like a star in the vast sky.

“You know that thing where people ask you, if you saw your younger self in front of you right now and they were having the same feelings as you. What would you do?”

“I don’t know honestly, probably give the little guy a hug and some money ,or buy him something to eat. Someone out there for sure has it shittier than me, but I guess one of my mistakes was to undervalue my own emotions and mental state. Fuck, i got myself in such a hole. When people say ‘after you hit the bottom there is no where more to go but up’ , honestly that is straight up crap and bullshit. Some of us keep clawing and digging fearing that there is more to come. “

“Ah.” a memory popped up in your head on it’s own “That shit hole. Yeah, either you lose yourself laying there with bloody fingernails and hands, or you start crawling back up like a bug. You know, the blood is gonna stain the walls so next time you fall you will remember and catch yourself...if you make it that far.” lifting your hand, you covered a bit of the sky with it, noticing the colors around it “What about the times we reach out but no one grabs on?”

“Fuck! Y/N! We were supposed to have a nice walk in the park not a whole ass depressing talk session!” Yoongi hissed out, unlike his words his voice wasn’t angry

“Oh come on, you know that somehow we always end up talking about this shit.We are both broken pieces, but I think that isn’t bad at all.” you felt his breath stop under you for a split second “I feel like that is why we fit so well together.”

“Oh for real?” he asked a bit surprised by your words “I always thought it was because we were both hella toxic.” you swung your hand and hit him in the stomach “OOF!” he folded in half, sending you sitting up “I forgot how aggressive you were too.” Yoongi’s voice was coming from between his teeth.

“I am serious! I feel like we went through our hard times and learned to manage, that is why we can talk about all these things like this.”

“Makes sense, we were each other’s shoulder. You start falling, I pull on you and the other way around.”

You noticed the contagious smirk on his face that mirrored onto you almost instantly “We fall together, we crawl back up together. Damn we sound inspirational.”

“I told you! We should make one of those vlog channels where people wake up at 5 am looking like damn models, meditate and finish all their work before 11am.” throwing your body back you fell onto the cover, but Yoongi didn’t join you. He staid sitting, letting you focus on his back as he continued “You know we are losers, right?”

“The biggest losers out there.”

He looked towards the sky letting the wind play with his hair, when suddenly you both burst out laughing. Your voices were so loud the birds flew away. “Yeah, we are.”

“Honestly tho Yoongs. Why did we care so much what people thought of us? I mean sometimes I still do but-”

“Same, same.”

“Don’t cut me off stupid!” you kicked him a bit “As I was saying!” you emphasized on ‘saying’ ,when he pinched your leg in retaliation a couple of times “Body types, dudes, girls, genderfluid or no gender at all. Being cute or stylish, pretty or ugly, was a mad waste of time. The nerd is gonna probably become rich, the ugly people will end up becoming better lookin that those basic Karens. I swear, even with all that bulling and people wanting be to be the top. With or without them the Earth keeps spinning .”

“Did you just discriminate flat earth people!?” he gasped cartoonish “Y/N, i didn’t know you were this type of person.”

“Yah! You really out here trying to cancel your best friend, Min Yoongi!”

“You don’t need me to do that, you already do it yourself with the stuff you say.”

“Says you, loser.” your words made him lean onto his elbow next to you, eyes focused on your face as the colors of the sky began fading over your bodies and skin

“I like that word, loser.” he said “It sounds rude, but at the same time no one calls you that if you aren’t different. Different means unique, special. Who tf would want to be the same as others?”

“That was us too stupid, back then.” Yoongi pocked your cheek a couple of times gently

“Yeah, but it’s not back then anymore Y/N. It’s now. We grew up. With our jaw and fist clenched we fought and made it here. They shot at us, they threw rocks and called us cowards, weirdos. But we made it through the darkness. After all that we are and will forever be bulletproof.” the sudden rustle of the grass under you two signaled him getting up and spinning, hands to the side. His head leaned back and he looked so happy. Yoongi’s eyes were closed, he could fall and not even notice, but he wasn’t afraid no more. Whatever happens will happen.

“You make us sound hella dope man. I love it.”

“Anxiety, social issues, any kind of mental problems and disorders. They level us up, as long as we try. At the end of the day you lose something to win something.”

“The end of the chapter is the beginning of the next.” you began to notice he was starting to lose balance from all that spinning around “Hey stupid, you will fall and hurt yourself like th-” you couldn’t even finish the sentence when his legs tangled up and he fell onto you “You ok?!That was such a stupid move! Open your eyes next time!”

“Why?” he became serious, his eyes looking into yours. Yoongi crooked his head to the side,as his fingers caressed your cheek “If I was looking I would have been too afraid to fall. At the end of it all i ended up failing and found a little angel. See? Win win to me. You can’t always see where you are going, but you gotta believe that good things are on the other side.”

“You are bleeding, that is what is on this side.”

“I am WHAT!” his forehead was a bit scratched “Damn it! My handsome face!”

“Oh come on! Wait till I glow up like that! I will get the best looking SO out there.” the child in you was pouting at Yoongi

“You know damn well we are too messed up for a relationship with others. We try and try, get used and then we either lose interest, or fall completely out of love for months. By the way...” his fingers found your cheek again, but this time it wasn’t a gentle poke but a sharp pinch. Your hands flew in the direction of his arm to try and make him let go of you. “Who told you you don’t look good?”

“Ow ow Yoongi! Let me go!!!”

“Not until you tell me who said all that crap to you!?” prying yourself from his grip you continued rubbing the now red and warm spot

“People i liked or others in general. You know how shit goes.”

“You for real need to get your eyes checked! People stare at you when you walk by cus you look TOO good.” his words were like a low growl of a jealous pet

“Nah man, they are either judging me or they want to fight me. There is no middle ground here.”

“You really!” with all the power in his hand he flicked your forehead

“Stop inflicting me wounds!”

“Then stop talking shit about yourself! I swear your bodydismorphia needs to join Jimin when he has talk sessions about his day with Hoseok.Plus, people do stare at you when you walk in town in the attracted way. On our way here at least 5 people turned back and continued looking.”

“Ew creepy!” you said “Why do you count them!”

“You little!!!Come here!” your neck found itself in a chokehold in a matter of seconds

“HYUNG!”Jungkook’s voice echoed through the park reaching your direction “Y/N AND YOONGI ARE BEING THE DEPRESSED AND FLIRTY AGAIN!”

“This kid I swear I will kill him some time soon!” you hissed at Jungkook

“You two really can’t drop this habit.” the slow and calm footsteps pulled your attention and soon subsided your anger

“Joon, you know how we are.” you added, leaning back onto you elbows

“I know, we are all like that.” Joon looked at you two sitting on the ground

“Y/N is right, broken pieces do find each other.” Yoongi added, but Joon sighed and rubbed the back of his head. He squatted down eye level

“Broken pieces find each other because they fit together and make a beautiful new bottle that they can fill up with happy memories. Our sad and hard pasts make us titanium that can’t be broken. Even if one of us cracks, we are all going to help him become stronger.” he reached his hand out, standing up “ You are not alone Y/N, we are going to be forever titanium. You have us and we have you now. We are not lonely or misérables with you.”

“WE ARE BULLETPROOF GUYS!” Jungkook yelled out again

“Yeah...we are.” with a smile shining brighter than ever ,you grabbed Joon’s hand.He pulled you up as you were holding onto Yoongi. When the chain starts no one can cut the bond. We pull each other up...is what you realized.

“Oh and.”

“Yes Joons?”

“Can you two date already or at least go out on a date. It hurts looking at yall like this.”

“What!?” the blanket in your hand turned into weapon as you began hitting him with it in a moment of panic. His words hit a nerve.Yoongi wasn’t the one to rush or to run. With his hands in his pockets he followed you down the hill. His footsteps stopped for a moment to look at the now dark sky.

We may not be able to see the stars during the day, but at night they are too many to even count. Nothing is truly hidden forever, even who you are meant to be. It’s ok not to know now or later. When we are young we dont really know. We try to fit in a mold that was created, but we can’t, we just can’t no matter how much we try.

We end up being labeled by the things we are different. Some come from a darker past, others don’t. Yet everyone is important, the way they feel, their emotions and inner state. If I could, I would grab your hand and show you a bit of the future. Think of this, your future self, the one that did it all finally and continues to dream big, is looking at you through memories. They grab your hand and push you forward towards the good. The tunnel may be dark, cold, lonesome and scary but it always leads to something. Just don’t give up.

Regret, unsuccessful love, residual feelings for someone who used you. They are all a stepping stone, don’t look at them. Now you know what not to do, EXP( experience points) come in many forms honey. Be who you want to be, life is yours. Be the main character in your story, not anyone else’s. Even if you fall sometimes, show everyone how amazing you are by standing up. Baby steps turn into miles, whispers become yelling, crawling becomes flying. Breaking the mold becomes you.

#bts scenario #bts scenarios #bts text #bts texts #bts text scenario #bts text scenarios #bangtan scenario #bangtan scenarios #bangtan text scenarios #bangtan text scenario #bts x you #bts x reader #bangtan boys scenarios #bangtan boys fanfic #bangtan boys scenario #bts and you #bts with you #be yourself

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hatsampixie · 4 years

Text

Spy vs Spy: Curse of the Were-Pyre, part 1

Warning, this story contains violence and blood!

"Okay, A.B, tonight's the 're-live-da-prom' party at the HQ, I know I sound like someone's mom for sayin' this, but you better be on your best behavior." Said Frank, the one living in the apartment room next door to Agent Black. (The Black Spy) "Don't worry Frank, I'll make sure he gets to the HQ, okay? I didn't have combat training for nothin'." Agent Gray said, with a reassuring look. As they were about to leave, Frank spoke up again "Oh, I forgot.. Small warning: As you’re going to the HQ, don't be late, and most importantly, don't walk home alone, there's a lot of sinister characters at this time of night.." Agent Black nodded as he and Agent Gray began to walk towards the tall gray building in the distance that would be the S.P.Y Headquarters. (Secretly Protecting You, yeah, they're still working on the acronym.) "See ya, Frank!"

"Okay, A.B, hopefully there's more girls there, 'cause I heard they weren't going this year. But again, I still really hope I'm not the only girl." Gray said as the elevator they were in slowly made it's way to the 12th floor, Black sighed. "To be fair, I hope you're not the only girl either, 'cuz you're my partner, and-" Before Black could finish, Gray elbowed him slightly, a cue for him to shut up. "..Let's just go inside and have a good time." A ding was heard, and the elevator door opened as they were now on the 12th floor, they opened and went through the door to the HQ..

The entire HQ was decorated with multi-colored lights, balloons, and even a DJ booth, which was flooding the room with the sound of 8-bit midi music. You don't get to see that every day in the HQ, especially since the color theme was mostly monochrome. "Oh my goodness.. This is awsoome!" Black said, his eyes widening with delight. A person wearing an over-saturated shirt turned towards the two agents and grinned, it was Agent Bruce, who had finally got the chance to dress in actual colors. "Oh man, Black! This party is off the hook! so many people have turned up! Yeeeaaah!" He said in his excitement, busting some moves as he did so, (including some Michael Jackson and PSY dance moves XD) Another person suddenly popped up, once again, dressed in bright colors, this time in the form of a wide-brimmed hat and overcoat, it was a little too much for Black and Gray to see. "Yee-haa! Hey guys, how's it goin?" the fellow said, "Looks like there's LOADS of people that have turned up!" He kind of spoke with a sarcastic streak, but he had a point. Looking around, Black and Gray couldn't see any other people besides themselves, Agent Bruce, the brightly-colored spy weirdo, and the guy at the disco booth; there were only 5 people here. "Oh, this isn't good. ..Why didn't they turn up?" Black thought to himself, even Gray was shocked. "Oh geez, I'm the only girl.." Now Agent Bruce had his eyes on Agent Gray, and walked up next to her, he tried to wrap an arm around her, but Gray shoved him away. "Yep, this is what I've been waiting for; I paid everyone off just to be here all by myself, isn't that right Harold?" Bruce asked, turning to the guy working the disco booth, who simply responded with a not amused look, and he spoke in a monotone voice: "No, no one turned up because it's an idiotic dance."

Black and Gray suddenly flinched as the brightly-dressed weirdo just breezed right on past them, jumping around like a ballerina. "Bruce is a party god! YEAAAAHAHABLAAHAHAHA!" he screamed. Black and Gray stared blankly for a moment, "Okay, this is really really weird.." Gray turned to him and nodded silently in agreement, "Alright, alright, you know what? I don't like this party, okay? I'm leaving by myself." Meanwhile, Bruce had dragged Gray over to a nearby photo booth, and wanted to take a picture with her, much to her chagrin. "Black, you know what Frank said: don't walk home alone!" The dark wide-brimmed hat wearing fellow rolled his eyes, "Well, you know what? I don't care 'bout what he said, it's a really cool party, but I'll see you when I get home, okay?" he said, and walked out of the HQ and into the elevator, he pushed a button and it slowly began it's descent to the bottom floor.

The full moon illuminated the dark streets of Monochropolous, most of the buildings had their lights off, while some were on, and a cold breeze was blowing softly through the air, sending some leaves rolling about like tumbleweeds, the darkness and the autumn breeze gave this place a creepy atmosphere at night. "Oh my goodness, that party was so dead.. I'm glad that I'm walkin' home alone.. Even though Mr-know-it-all told me not to, I'm doin' it my way.." Black mumbled under his breath as he followed the sidewalk that he thought would be the best path home, as he walked along he paused and looked at a Mountain Dew vending machine. "..I really wish that that vending machine was fixed, if only I could just put in a coin, and get myself a nice cold can of-" Black jumped and turned as he saw someone out of the corner of his eye, upon getting a good look at the man, he saw that the fellow was wearing an all-orange suit with small numbers over the chest area, his eyes widened upon realizing he was face-to-face with an escaped criminal.

"Who are you, pal?" The man asked, raising an eyebrow, the trained spy stood his ground, unfazed. "..T-that's none of your concern!" he shouted. The man advanced towards him and growled, "Give me all your money." Black reached in his pockets for a weapon, he felt around, nothing accept a small towel, a map, and his wallet. With horror he realized he made the worst mistake any Spy can make: Going alone without a weapon for self defence.

Well, if he had no weapon to fight with, he might as well use his combat training. "Oooh, sorry, don't have any money!" he lied, The criminal smirked. "I know that you're wrong, sir. The thing is.. I've got a knife, and I can stab you!" he reached in his pocket, and pulled out what looked like a shaving razor kit, but then a long, razor sharp serrated knife popped out of nowhere; this villain had a switch-blade. "I wouldn't do that if I were you, I'm saving my money so that I can get Mountain Dews on break hours, plus: You should know that I'm a black belt in karate." Black also replied with a smirk, trying to keep his cool. "Oh, very funny. My intention was to rob this vending machine, but I STILL want cash, so give it to me!" "Not a chance, bub!" Black then lashed out and kicked the villain right in the crotch, the criminal's eyes widened as he collapsed in a whimpering heap. Black reached in his wallet and tossed only 3 dollars at the man, "There, that can get you a Happy Meal at Old Mcdonalds. Now, scram, punk!" The crippled fellow slowly got up, whimpering in terror, and ran off down the street, and hid behind someone's car. "That's what I thought." The spy said, brushing himself off.

But as he was about to continue down the street, Black paused and looked all around him, he saw that the apartment building was nowhere in sight, "Great.. Just great!" He grumbled, reaching in his pocket to pull out a map that he had, then he heard a strange sound: A sharp hiss behind him, Black froze for a moment, then slowly turned to it's source. At first he saw nothing in the alleyway, just darkness.. But then two small red pinpricks that would be eyes pierced through the empty blackness. In an instant he knew that this wasn't the criminal from before, now it was his turn to ask. "Who are you?" After a moment, a dark inhuman voice echoed out. "..Like you said, 'none of your concern'." Black felt a lump form in his throat, "Yeah, well.. As I said, I have been trained in hand-to-hand combat, and I've got a weapon!" The voice chuckled at this, "Oh, do you now? Well.. that's not what I remember.. And, I can smell you're blood, and fear.." At that moment, he saw two small sharp things come into view, glinting in the moonlight. They looked like.. And that's when Black put it all together: This thing can smell blood, it has red eyes, and sharp teeth. Oh crap, it was a.. "W-what are you gonna do to me?" Black asked as sweat began to drip down his forehead. "I'm just going to take a little bite, if you don't mind.." As the spy slowly backed away, he saw the figure of a person slowly come into view, with the red eyes and fangs included. But then before you could say "Holy shnitzel!" The singularity leapt at Black at such speed that it was just a blur, he felt himself getting grabbed by the head and one of his shoulders, and then he let out an ear-splitting scream of agony as he felt those fangs sink between his neck and shoulder-blade, after just 5 seconds he felt the fangs remove themselves from his flesh, "Thank you so much.. Bye bye!" The creepy voice echoed into his ear, a second later, he saw a large bat-like figure open it's wings and fly out of sight.

Immediately, Black placed a hand on his neck to slow down the bleeding, bags had begun to form under his eyes from weakness and blood loss, at the same time he thought he felt his canines grow an inch longer. He reached into his right pocket and pulled out a small emergency towel and pressed it against the wound, grinding his teeth in pain. "Aw no.. *cough!* I can't believe I got bit by a.. ow.. by a v-vampire.. " Black lowered his head and whimpered softly, as he felt tears stream down his cheeks and drip from his pointy nose and onto the cement ground.

Then he heard a thud, the sound of someone, or something, landing on the ground behind him. Slowly he turned to it's source, wiping the tears from his cheeks, "G-gray?" The sound he heard next wasn't the voice of a human, but the growl of an angry animal. A second later, Two small yellow pinpricks pierced through the empty blackness, Another shadowed figure came into view, at first it was advancing towards him on two legs, but then it slowly dropped on all fours as drool dripped from it's sharp fangs. Glancing up at the full moon in the night sky, there was only one possibility: A werewolf, why'd it have to be a werewolf?

Black knew that he couldn't fight off this monster in his weakened state, he couldn't even call for help; he didn't have a phone. "..W-wait, I've gotten bit by a *cough!* a vampire.. If I got b-bit by a werewolf t-*cough!* t-then something bad'll happen! Please, don't!" He whimpered, almost as if doing the opposite of what he said, the beast snarled and lunged at Black, biting him right in the arm, easily drawing more blood. Once again, a scream of agony escaped his lips. Due to shock and loss of blood, he saw his vision get blurry and black, and he fell to the ground, and passed out.

His eyes shot open as he felt pain shoot throughout his body, but at the same time, he felt his energy come flooding back to him, he could only manage to get on his knees, due to him still being weakened, he hugged himself in pain as he felt himself transform. His teeth, not just his canines, grew longer and more sharp, resembling the teeth of a monstrous carnivore. His ears (which weren't visible before) grew longer and curved and turned a bit furry, they now resembled the pointed ears of a wolf. His black overcoat became torn as he grew a foot taller, he felt his tail bone grow longer, until a furry tail burst from his pants. (Embarrassed, Black blushed a bit at this.) And to top this all off, he felt the bones in his fingers and hands spread out and grow longer, until they became the giant veined wings of a bat, his white pupils narrowed to cat-like slits.

His neck also stopped bleeding and his injured arm healed.

Eventually, the pain passed through him and went away, as his blurry vision swam into focus, Black looked left and right, exploring his surroundings which were now becoming high-def. "Oh.. W-what happened..?" He asked, his voice now deeper. He looked down at his hands, and saw that they were huge, monstrous bat wings! When he saw this, he immediately woke up. "AAAAAGGGHHH! What happened to me?!" Slowly, he felt his memories come flooding back to him. "Aw man.. I'm a Vamp-Wolf! Well, actually that one sounds stupid.. oh, I got it! I'm a Were-Pyre, NOOO!" The newly transformed Black paused for a moment before a villainous grin crossed his face, long fangs glinting in the moonlight. "Oh.. But I feel so powerful.. Yes.. I want.. I need to get revenge.. REVENGE!!" He roared, Black opened his huge bat wings, and with just 4 flaps, he took to the sky. Looking down, he saw the Werewolf and Vampire from before perched on top of one of the buildings, looking up in horror at this flying monster before them, the expressions on their faces said all too clearly: "What have we done?"

The criminal from before walked out from behind the car, looking around, he saw that that Black Spy was nowhere in sight, he breathed a sigh of relief. Then he looked at the 3 dollars in his hands and glared, "3 dollars, that's not even enough to buy me a stupid-" Then he heard the loud flapping of wings, and the thud of something landing just 6 feet away from him. The criminal gulped, for he was too scared to even look behind him. "Oh, burg-larr!" A deep growling sing-songy voice echoed out, The criminal whimpered and slowly looked behind him, his eyes widened in fear, and then he screamed as he saw the figure of a winged beast lunge for him screeching, with it's mouth wide open, hinged like a snake.

Black slowly licked the remaining blood off his lips, the criminal had now become a midnight snack. The monster-turned spy glanced up at the buildings from where he saw the Werewolf and Vampire that had turned him, they were nowhere in sight, they were gone. Black opened his wings once again and flew to the top of one of the buildings, and looked up at the full moon, a bloodstained grin spreading across his face. He threw his head back, opened his large bat wings, and unleashed a loud inhuman howl that echoed throughout Monochropolous.

"AAAAAA-OOOOOOOO!!!!"

#spy vs spy #black spy #vampire #werewolf #were-pire #were-pyre #hybrid #supernatural #fanfiction #story #part 1 #curse of the were-pyre

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this-is-my-canon · 4 years

Note

From your prompt list, how about KakaIru and “You come here often?” “Well, I work here. So I think I’d have to say ‘yes’.”?

Takes place in a bookstore, modern AU. Hope you like it! This is my first time writing KakaIru. I received a few more prompts for them to follow after this one, too, so if I don’t have my footing yet here, sorry yours gets to be the guinea pig while I work on this ship. XD

Iruka loves the smell of old books. Some of his coworkers don’t understand his fascination with musty old pages, and he understands their perspective. They’ve been handled by a multitude of people over the years, exposed to nasty germs and perhaps other questionable fluids, but something about them is so nostalgic that Iruka can’t use reason when it comes to them. He is so swept up in emotion when he picks up the book with tattered yellow pages and a weak spine, which smells so remarkably close to the book his parents used to read to him together just before they passed, that he doesn’t notice the customer hovering over his shoulder until he places the book delicately back on its shelf.

“Oh!” Iruka jumps back from the line of books, clearing the way for the customer. “I’m sorry.”

The customer is a man appearing to be in his mid-twenties, with spikes of silver hair and a scar bisecting his left eye. He’s slouched and stoic as he looks Iruka up and down with a lazy sweep of his gaze. Iruka gulps as he takes in his unexpected beauty caused by the juxtaposition of his ease and the threatening vibe he gives off.

“Was I...in your way?” Iruka asks, rubbing at the bridge of his nose where his scar seems to throb self-consciously as he takes in the other man's scar.

“Well,” the stranger drawls as he steps forward, peeling a book from the shelf where Iruka just stood, “as it happens, you were.”

“Oh.”

Iruka bites back the sharp retort he feels coming, the desire to chastise this customer’s blunt rudeness. As the customer thumbs through the pages of the novel of his choosing, Iruka gnaws the inside of his cheek and runs the entire spiel of his chastising through his mind. He’s been scolded once before for losing his temper with some disrespectful customers and he’s on his last warning now. He won’t risk losing this job over a customer being cold and short with him.

The stranger peers over the pages of his book, meeting Iruka’s eyes with a glare. “Do you mind?”

“Do I-“ Iruka sinks his teeth into his bottom lip, drawing blood as he clenches his fists at his sides.

This customer has the audacity to dismiss him. This is not something Iruka will stand for. The customer returns his eyes to his novel, mentally dismissing Iruka before his physical presence is even removed. This only increases Iruka’s fury.

“Listen here!” he grounds out, pointing a rigid finger at the stranger. “You do not get to dismiss people from these aisles. Everyone here is entitled to-“

“Take up all the space in this section? Hover over people while they’re trying to read? Monopolize shelves?”

Iruka growls. “You, Sir, do not belong in this bookstore.”

There. He said it. He doesn’t care if he loses his job for this one. Academy Books is a friendly bookstore. It’s a place where everyone should feel welcome to take their time and peruse if they choose.

The stranger closes the book and peers at Iruka. “You come here often?”

Iruka furrows his brows, flustered into a loss of words at the unexpected question. He thinks his reason for enforcing the ways of this bookstore are perfectly clear.

“Well,” he says, scratching the back of his neck, his face heating under the scrutiny of the customer’s intense gaze, “I work here. So I think I’d have to say ‘yes’.”

“Ah.” The stranger smiles with a flash of teeth, and his smile is sexy, the curve of his lower lip bringing Iruka’s attention to the beauty mark below it. “I noticed the way you were giving that book such adoration,” the stranger continues, sliding his free hand into his pocket. “Why did you put it back?”

“Well, because - it’s not mine,” Iruka says. “Like I said, I work here.”

As he takes time to further process the question though, he realizes there’s no reason he can’t take the book. The content is good, if a little raunchy in this section for his taste, but the nostalgia alone is almost worth the purchase.

“That’s too bad,” the stranger says.

His disappointment seems to run deeper than sympathy for Iruka’s willingness to let this book go. He seems disappointed in Iruka as a person, which is ridiculous when this man doesn’t even know him. But as Iruka takes in the downcast eyes and the deepening of this man’s slouch, he can’t help feeling a little ashamed. And then defensive, because why should he?

“If I want to buy a book,” Iruka says haughtily, “I’ll buy it when I’m ready.”

“I’m buying this one,” the stranger says, clutching the book in his hand to his chest. “What if I buy that one, too?”

Iruka blinks. “You want to buy my book?”

“Oh, it’s your book now? But Iruka-Sensei, you said you’re not ready to buy it.”

Iruka furrows his brows, flabbergasted. This oddly amused stranger shouldn’t know his name. And, “Sensei?” What?

The customer points to Iruka’s chest. Iruka follows the line of his finger to look down at his green nametag from Konoha High, the one he apparently forgot to remove again after leaving his tutoring shift to come here for this second job.

Iruka shakes his head. “I’m not a teacher.”

The customer raises his brow, a flicker of interest. “Well,” he drawls, moving in a languid stretch to replace the book he carries on the bookshelf, “I’m not here to buy books, either.”

“No?” Iruka raises a brow. “Then why are you here?”

He’s suspicious now, because he knows a book lover when he sees one. Even if this man is pretending to browse and has ulterior motives for being here, Iruka saw the way his eyes lit while skimming through the pages. He wasn’t bluffing about buying the book, either. Maybe Iruka’s, but not that first one. Not the one he was reading.

The stranger cracks another gorgeous smile. “Let’s just say I’m not a cop.”

His eyes crease as his smile becomes cheeky, almost cute, and he steps away. Iruka chokes as he realizes this guy might be for real. The bookstore may be in jeopardy of some sort of shootout or illicit activity while he’s on shift and he does not want to have to explain this.

“I told you before,” Iruka says, rounding a corner and seizing the stranger by the collar before he can move any further, “and I’ll say it again. You do not belong in this bookstore, Sir. And you shouldn’t drag whatever you have going on into here. This is a family place. Please, leave.”

The stranger turns, his eyes darting past Iruka before all joviality leaves his features. “Get down, Sensei. Please.”

His lip quirks with a smile before he’s lunging past Iruka and shoving him by the shoulder toward the ground. Iruka clutches course carpet fibers and growls, ready to spew a tirade at the inconsiderate, manhandling jackass refusing to leave the bookstore. But before Iruka can stand upright, glass shatters, the sound as sharp as the shards falling to the floor and the sidewalk outside. He slides books aside on the nearest shelf, clearing a passage for his view as he looks toward the disruption from his safe vantage point.

At the door, a pair of men in black leather laugh and step over the broken glass, one dragging a wooden bat behind him, the other propping his on his shoulder as if he’s ready to step up to the plate. Iruka’s obstinate customer has his back pressed against a bookshelf, hidden from the vandals’ view, but clear to Iruka’s. His jaw moves as he presses a small device close to his lips, and Iruka closes his eyes, breathing a sigh of relief at knowing this is being reported. The jerk wasn’t misleading Iruka about being a cop. When Iruka opens his eyes again, he curses under his breath. A young boy is curled up in the corner, just steps away from the criminals, and there’s no telling what they intend to do with the innocent people here.

When Iruka returns his gaze to the cop, the cop is staring straight back at him. He raises his brows and a pistol he’s pulled seemingly out of nowhere, and nudges his head in the direction of the child. Iruka grits his teeth as he returns his gaze to the boy who now has silent tears rolling down his chubby cheeks. If he didn’t have the cop’s permission, he would do this anyway. He can’t stand by and let people hurt a child.

When the smoke clears and the men are shoved into the back of a police car, bloody and beaten, Iruka is glad to be holding the child safely against his side. He feels the way the boy’s shoulders tremble, recognizes his loss of color for shock, but isn’t prepared to give him more than a solid embrace just yet.

Iruka may be in shock, too, after what he’s just witnessed.

“Perps are heading to the station, Kakashi,” says the unformed cop who arrived at the scene within minutes of Iruka plummeting to the child’s side on the floor. “You want anything? Donut? Dog food?”

Kakashi’s dead-eyed stare and the cop’s shit-eating grin say these offers aren’t genuine. There’s camaraderie here, and curiously, Iruka catches himself wishing to be a part of it.

“Sensei,” Kakashi says, his voice deep and low, muffled into his shirt with his chin tucked against his chest as he turns away from his partner. “Good work.”

“Thank you,” Iruka breathes before catching that damn nickname again and narrowing his eyes at Kakashi. “It’s not-“

He huffs. This seems to please the officer, who looks up from the files he’s been flipping through to shoot Iruka a squinty-eyed smile.

Kakashi’s eyes regain all seriousness as he says, “You may have saved that boy’s life today. Not just anyone would throw themselves into the line of fire for a stranger like that. You didn’t even hesitate.”

“No,” Iruka says with conviction, smiling down at the boy who finally looks up to meet his eyes. “I didn’t.”

“What are you doing tonight, Iruka-Sensei?” Kakashi’s eyes are locked on Iruka when he looks up from the boy. “Would you like to come out for a drink?”

Iruka gnaws his bottom lip. Heat rushes to his face as the boy shifts against his side, just as attentive to the cop’s brazen invitation as Iruka. He wants to go out with the cop. There’s no doubt about it. But he doesn’t know what to say.

“Unless,” Kakashi drawls, his confidence wavering as he reads Iruka’s hesitation, “you have a third job. Security guard? Exotic dancer?”

“What,” Iruka exclaims as his cheeks flame and he claps his hands over the boy’s ears, “is wrong with you? No other job.”

Kakashi shrugs, unabashed. “So?”

“So, what?”

“There’s a nice little tavern near the precinct. What time do you want to meet?”

Iruka knows the place, a little dirty maybe, but dark and quiet - good for getting to know a person. Iruka eases his hands from the boy’s ears, feeling his tension abate at the conversation’s more civil turn. Kakashi is a little difficult to deal with, but Iruka feels drawn to him. He wants to know more about what led a cop into his bookstore. He wants to know more about Kakashi.

“Eight o’clock,” he says as butterflies dance in his stomach. “Don’t be late.”

Kakashi’s eyes crease as he smiles. “Of course, Sensei.”

#Naruto pairing prompts #Kakashi/Iruka #Naruto #fanfiction #kalira9

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the-chanteloup · 4 years

Text

InuYasha RP Bio

Omg. I’m alive! Things have been so hectic, I forgot I had a Tumblr! Silly me. Well, I’ve returned, and with that return, I give you my finalized InuYasha RP bio!

So, I created this character about 18 years ago when InuYasha first aired on Adult Swim. I debuted her on Yahoo!Chat, and when that died, she sort of went into hibernation. With the series coming out, and this sudden surge of InuYasha, I really wanted to finalize her, and get her out into the world. :3

Name (last, first): Setsuna ( Of the Karyukai, The Flower and Willow World )

Nickname(s): Hanyou, Runt, Pup, Geisha

Age: 55 (Youthful appearance, commonly mistaken for 20-25)

Species: Half-Dog Demon, Half-Human (Hanyou)

Gender: Female

Birthday: Around the Winter Solstice

Life Story:

Left on the doorstep of an orphanage in the village of Sawara, in a shabby reed basket during a harsh winter was not the ideal beginning, but, all great legends must start somewhere. Luckily, warm hearts were in good spirits this cold night, and the overseers of this particular orphanage just couldn’t leave a bright eyed, bundle of joy out in the elements. Brought in out of the cold, and raised alongside human children, the pup never really knew she was different, other than having two black fluffy ears atop her head. As she grew, she was given a general education along with the other children, nothing fancy since they were considered the lower class, but enough to get her by should she ever take to selling turnips.

Unfortunately, all fairy tales have to end, and when her 16th year rolled around, she was tossed out into the world to fend for herself.

Being a small Hanyou had its benefits job wise, roaming gangs of thieves were always willing to have her tag along for heists, at a quarter of the profit for most of the dangerous work. But fate is a fickle mistress, and while perusing through a shop during a heist one night, she was detained by an older man named Ino Tadataka, with nun chucks. How embarrassing. She didn’t need superb Demon hearing to know her comrades had bailed, leaving her the scapegoat. However, before she could decide which hand she was okay with having chopped off, the old man offered her a deal. She would assist him in mapping some of the harder to reach places in the area, and in return he would house her, feed her and teach her to read.

Since climbing trees for an old man was a much better option than losing a limb, she hastily agreed, and spent many years assisting “Old Man Ino”, as she called him, in completing his map of Japan.

In the Spring of her last month with Ino, he referred her to an old friend in a village called Kanazawa in the Western Lands for another job. With no other real work leads, other than going back to stealing, she took the lead. When she arrived at the mapped destination Ino had given her, it turned out to be an exotic tea house. She swore on all the Gods above and below that she would knock the taste out of that old pervert’s mouth for this. As she stood outside making her proclamation to bash an old man’s head in, she was interrupted by the tea house’s 'mother', Kikuya. Seeing a rare opportunity to be the only tea house in the district with a Hanyou entertaining, Kikuya took her in instantly.

Amazingly, after several rough years of learning, she was finally “promoted” to the highest rank, Geisha.

Fast forward a few short years, just a few months from fully paying off her debt, she is one of the more popular girls advertised at the tea house. Fully skilled in playing the kokyū, flirting with men in a proper way, starting and losing games of Janken or Daruma Otoshi gracefully, and pouring hot tea in hazardous ways, courtesy of her quick Hanyou reflexes, she has acquired several frequent guests.

A Samurai named Yorimoto quickly became her favorite “customer”, and though they saw each other as nothing more than siblings, she developed a connection to the Human. He was never short on adventurous stories about fighting, and war, which she soaked up like a sponge, enjoying the romantic way he told of their honor code. Being half-Demon, she was naturally drawn to weapons and all their convenient ways of killing things, and eventually convinced Yorimoto to teach her how to use the Naginata. Unfortunately, it was highly un-Geisha like to swing around a “blade on a stick”, as her mother called it, so, under the guise of certain services, they met and trained. Several months passed, and her Samurai was called away to battle, but before he left, Yorimoto gifted her a Naginata all her own, for emergencies, of course.

Even though she was content to stay at her tea house and practice her Naginata in peace until the day when she could afford to open her own business, she also wouldn’t mind a little bit of adventure sneaking in and stirring things up.

Appearance:

Setsuna stands an intimidating five feet tall at her black ear tips, which has earned her the nickname “Runt”. Thanks to her Demon genetics, despite her small stature, she is sturdily built, muscular and has a curvy frame. She is a milky skinned Hanyou with loosely curled raven black hair that trails down to her rear, and cobalt blue, cat like eyes rimmed in coal eyeliner. Her ears are slightly fluffy, and sport two small silver hoops in each, a gift from her Geisha mother, Kikuya. Her claws are a soft pearl color; however, they are kept at a shorter length due to her kokyū playing and aesthetics for the tea house, but they still remain filed to a point and sharp.

Her only truly intimidating feature is a deep, guttural growl that could easily be mistaken for a much larger demon. Setsuna’s normal attire is that of a typical Geisha, minus the white makeup. Elaborate silk kimonos and obis, along with jeweled hair trinkets and pins. Her hair is never tied up, allowing her ears to remain out in the open. When she is training with the Naginata, she dons a black hakama, with a royal blue sash around her waist. Setsuna is almost always barefoot as she likes the feel of Earth on her skin.

Like all Hanyou, she reverts to a mortal Human form on the night of the new moon. She becomes weaker, as she loses all of her Demon abilities. Her hair fades to a dusty blonde color, and her eyes dull to a pale gray.

Personality:

Setsuna is usually the center of the party. Having trained with her Geisha mother, she can strike up conversations easily with almost anyone. She has a laid-back demeanor, seeming to just roll with the punches. A smile of some sort is usually found on her face, giving her an easy to approach look. She has an old wisdom about her, and is always available to offer advice or find an answer to a question. She tends to have a soft spot for animals and children, but she prefers both go home with someone else. Her one true weakness is a field of wild flowers, or flowers of any kind. Though she hates to admit it, she’s a sucker for romance and intimate physical touches.

Unfortunately, with a decent amount of Demon blood in her veins, Setsuna is not the quiet, demure creature one would expect when they see her in full Geisha attire. Having been raised by thieves, her mouth is dirtier than a sewer grate, and her mind has been likened to that of a lecherous old man’s. Even with traditionally excitable genetics, she is calm, collected, and calculating, preferring her enemies to either make fools of themselves or to wander right into her trap. Though she has never been in a true battle, the canine in her usually wishes a mother fucker would so she could let her Naginata bathe in blood. Of course, that doesn’t mean she goes looking for a fight, but should one happen to peek around a corner….

Good Habit(s):

She is very understanding, and a good listener. No problem is too dramatic, or small for her ears. She offers honest advice (This could be good or bad) She is fiercely loyal to those who have earned it. Her colorful background and lifestyle have given her a wealth of wisdom and knowledge, both useful and not.

Bad Habit(s):

Hot headed, she finds a boiling point rather quickly over certain things. Decently excitable, the World is a big adventure to a young Hanyou. Territorial, what’s hers is hers. Cursing bad enough to make perverts blush.

Like(s):

Walking in the forest, feeling the sun on her skin and the Earth on her bare feet. Having her hair done/played with. Food. Training with her Naginata. Playing the kokyū. Listening to stories, mostly battle and war stories. Thunderstorms at night. Wildflower fields.

Special Powers/Abilities:

Aside from the typical Hanyou speed, flexibility and agility, she has a natural ability to hide and camouflage herself due to her small stature. She’s also decently formidable in a fist fight. Intimidating low, guttural growl usually used for intimidation. Rapid healing.

Ambition/Life-long Dream:

Even though she longs for the thrill of battle, a more reasonable ambition would be to finally pay off her debts to Kikuya, and to open her own tea house that specializes in ‘unique’ Geishas like herself.

Love Interest:

Unknown.

Occupation/Job:

Geisha, entertainer, Hanyou

Notes:

Now, I know y'all who follow the series are looking at me like, "Uh...THAT NAME IS FAMILIAR" And, yeah, I know, trust me. I had a moment when the official announcement was made, but when I created Setsuna, I actually used the name from the manga Angel Sanctuary ( showing my age here ), and this character was never meant to follow any sort of canon story line, ever, she was always strictly AU. With all that being said, please don't come for me. xD I am smol and anxiety ridden. I really just wanted to have her bio published, because I love this little shit of a Hanyou. She was one of my very first creations and holds a pretty special place in my cold black heart. A few more notes: I'm totally up for RP! Feel free to send me a note or whatever. I'm pretty laid-back, and open to most scenarios.

I usually ship Setsuna with Sesshomaru, because it's adorable, but, I’m open to any ship.

She has no art. Like I said, this has been a long time coming, so I haven't had any art of her commissioned, but maybe in the near future I will. ( -eyeballs the extremely talented @destinyfall) But, I can give you details and photo references if you decide you would like to RP.

#roleplay #rp #literate rp #inuyasha #demon #original character

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illegiblewords · 5 years

Photo

Explanation of design approach and some personality info under the cut.

Essentially, the way I’ve been approaching this I wanted to make each world feel like a self-contained and cohesive team. Nivienne is actually from Lamia and so isn’t designed to mesh with the others, but I use her a lot and have a design strategy for her so she’s included. For team Famfrit as a whole, I wanted to make sure that each personality and design would feel distinct and that the main color for each character would stand out. Most are also pretty obvious lol--black mage is black, red made is red, white mage is white. Areas I went different are gold dragoon (or aurum dragoon if we’re being fancy), purple scholar, green bard, orange ninja, blue warrior.

CENRIC ASHER

My main and a hyur midlander black mage. With him I wanted to push against the concept that hyurs are inherently vanilla or “boring”. Imo there is nothing wrong with designs that look like they could occur in nature, but with him I wanted to do an edgy personal spin in the classic Final Fantasy black mage look where the character is a dark silhouette with glowing eyes, a high collar, and a broad hat. Sometimes he wears other things too but the overall concept ties to that particular look. In personality Cenric is a pretty angsty guy due to having been a con artist who got a lot of people killed with medical fraud. He lies a lot out of fear of the reaction he’d get if his background was known. Possibly a little nuts, thinks he is the son of Nald’Thal and bound to spread death and destruction wherever he goes--striking enemies and allies alike, regardless of his own wishes. Probably actually just has Duskwight heritage. Has pretty hardcore imposter syndrome about being Warrior of Light, but in partial response to having been destitute and outcast for a long time he tries to play into the persona of a powerful, luxurious, mysterious black mage brimming with forbidden knowledge. In reality he is intimidated by most children, can’t whistle, and is a bit of a smartass when he’s not panicking his way through conversations.

J’MOR TIA

My red mage alt, I wanted to do a few experiments with him! One was that Red Mages usually read very sophisticated and swashbuckle-y to me, and I wanted to play more into the rapier as an almost roguish weapon. Very physical. He’s somebody who you initially would not assume is a magic user but who is just as versed and capable on that front as the ivory tower casters haha. I also wanted to make him a combination of ethnically black (contrasting Cenric who is ethnically Arab but weird) and a male miqo’te because I have never seen that combination before. I wanted him to feel very charming and like he has kind of rugged good looks. Just a bit too scruffy for pretty boy. Personality he is probably the most shonen hero of my alts lol. He has stuff he struggles with (he and his sister both wanted to be adventurers but she opted out after taking things way too far in a fight and getting scared of her own power) but doesn’t get stuck in his head nearly as much as some other characters do.

CESAIRE DELAROUX

I futzed with this guy for a while—main inspiration comes from a particular kind of horse called the Akhal-teke.

Also because I have seen some really cool and pretty elezen that specifically worked to play up gold as a color scheme, and in this case I wanted to evoke a kind of warm, soft golden light. Originally I was going to make him a contrast to Cenric and make him much paler, but I wound up going that route more with Asklona instead with drawing loose inspiration from certain forms of albinism. I went more gold to make sure Cesaire would stand out visually from Asklona. Another reason for this route is because I want to make a character who looks very light and pure, but in practice has hardcore bloodlust. XD Wanted one case for playing into that possible WoL element haha. I also thought it might be neat to make a character who could serve as a kind of foil to Zenos in many ways and might credibly say yes when invited to be besties. Cesaire is still a mostly heroic guy but I figure he’s a bit like Dexter if that makes sense.

KIYO SHIROGANE

An auri white mage from Hingashi! To me it felt a little odd that the Ruby Princess of Sui-no-Sato has more of a magenta color scheme than red. I wanted to tie Kiyo to Kugane specifically in part because I think the parallels between geomancy and white magic (land, sea, sky) are super cool imo, there are a fair number or Raen au ra in Kugane with less lore exploration, and I wanted to make a character whose past trailed behind her in a clear and interesting way while she travels. So for Kiyo I kind of took inspiration from the idea of a red pearl (pearls often being white as per the horns and scales but then she has vivid red hair) and from the idea of blood tied to injury and medicine. Plus ya know, white magic. I also took light inspiration from candles conceptually. I totally forgot that Shirogane is the housing district also lol so now she has backstory lore that her family had been heavily involved in establishing the area. Kiyo comes from a large and noble family with a ton of political and economic influence, being herself somewhat sheltered and naïve. She is very sincere, playful, outgoing, and does her best to be kind. Very animated!

OSK YASKARET

For Osk, I was essentially going (ʘ_ʘ;;) because I knew that I hadn’t used ANY brown hair so far and it was making so uncomfortable lol. So I thought about what combination would be appropriate, distinct, and striking enough to fit within the cast while also being distinct. Gray and brown feel like chinchilla colors to me and I think are nice in a way that wouldn’t be out of place with rabbits/viera. I wanted dark eyes since again, I hadn’t yet for this group... so dark purple wound up being her main color. Since I was going scholar, I also wanted to keep the sense of intellect and feeling like a healer without being mistakable for astrologian or white mage. I still want to build into her look, but another aspect I wanted to incorporate--saw a lot of people arguing about the inherent sensuality of Viera, so I figured for her I wanted to make her look elegant and sophisticated but more conservative in glamours. I didn’t want her to instantly read like she hopped out of the woods either. Figure she’d have had time to adapt since.

I’m still very much debating backstory and personality or her but am leaning toward her being the offspring of a viera who left the woods while pregnant. I like the idea of Osk wanting to connect with her heritage but feeling somewhat adrift. I also want to incorporate Nym lore because omg I want more Nym in-general. Personality I do think Osk is probably a little bit of a smug bunny but things remain super tenuous.

ASKLONA WANNEYNWYN

Asklona I literally wanted to make a super soft feeling, hyper feminine lady roegadyn because most interpretations I’ve seen have been either harder feminine or tomboyish. Still fun imo, but given the grief some fans heap on femroes I really wanted to show that this kind of look is doable. I usually try to incorporate the black noses on Hellsguard designs (tiger roooooes) while with Seawolves I tend to push either fully into something natural or fully into something unnatural. So ex. the most desaturated option or else just run with blues and greens. Asklona is specifically a bard because it is pretty and fancy imo and I haven’t seen a lot of roegadyn bards in-general. Asklona I mentioned before is modeled off of certain kinds of albinism, but by that I want to make the disclaimer that pink eyes don’t generally occur in people (pale blue or violet is more likely) and that normally there are some eyesight problems that come with the condition as well as ease of getting sunburn. I don’t necessary play into that with Asklona/am going artistic license because I mean final fantasy we can lift swords bigger than we are. I know these things get overlooked a lot though so it seemed worth specifying. My choice to go this route was because I wanted to make myself use more pastels lol and I figured this would be a fun spot to contrast Cenric. I think in backstory Asklona’s father lost his mind to a siren, and Asklona pursuing adventuring as a bard is partly to take revenge and partly in the hopes that she can call her father back with song. Her involvement becomes more complicated over time but I think that’s the general direction. I picked green for her color scheme because it’s a color that feels like it evokes both the woods of Gridania and the sea itself... and because pink is a shade of red and with green being complementary, I figured it would make the pinks stand out a lot. Asklona is tied to Limsa Lominsa and besides looking for outfits that will flatter her body type I am trying to evoke the ocean in her designs. Pirates, sailors, the works. Personality I am still figuring out a bit but I think Asklona is definitely a shameless flirt, can read as insensitive and self-centered at times as she indulges in what makes her happy. She plays herself off as much more shallow than she is and in-general focuses on pursuing pleasure as a way of avoiding heavier issues.

KOKONO KONO

The scrappy daughter of a Doman fox auspice and a Thavnairian lalafell, Kokono saw her mother waste away with homesickness after fleeing the Garlean occupation. She has two brothers, one who returned to Doma while the other remains in Thavnair witht her father. Kokono hates the idea of loving a place so much you would die over it and decided to travel Hydaelyn, causing mischief while indulging a deep-rooted curiosity and love for discovering new places. Has severe commitment issues. Can be prone to swearing and being insensitive because the shocked reactions amuse her a lot, but her heart is ultimately in the right place. I designed her literally to make a lalafell fox because with the dark nose option + werewolf ears it is SO EASY to make tiny canines and I don’t understand why more people don’t do this. Like I could make an elegant white fox lalafell or a yorkshire terrier lalafell or any number of things. We can have itty bitty dogs! And like Kiyo I wanted some background to be evident in her clothes too. I designed her before I picked her backstory and mainly went for rule-of-cute/what would most evoke the red coat of a fox.

SVATOMIR AZORYA

Last of team Famfrit, he’s a Warrior Hrothgar. Very conceptually rough, I’m interested in playing him much more reserved and traditionally masculine in a lot of ways. I think a character in that vein will help balance out against the other Warriors of Light I made for that world. Design goal here was to make him look as wolf-like as possible haha. I think we have plenty of cat people already with Miqo’te.

NIVIENNE LECLAIR

From Lamia, I’ve talked a bit about her before so copypasting that in.

Basically, when I decided to try doing the whole WoL/Emet-Selch fic writing misadventure it was just a personal challenge for funsies. I’d seen other people do some really interesting and impressive stuff using unnamed lady WoLs. Hadn’t really tried something like that myself so I decided to go full improv with it.

Except my instincts tend toward specificity lol, so I scattered details according to what would make for fun scenarios or cute details. I wanted the lady to be a certain level of tall so I went with elezen. I needed to describe a readily portable weapon that would mesh with that sweet, sweet Amaurotine lore, so I made her a summoner. So on and so forth. Very seat-of-the-pants.

Particularly since the fic I have coming up is gonna be bigger, I’m thinking name is okay now lol.

Cenric as my black mage main is a dark, broody guy who doesn’t quite realize he’s nicer and sillier that he gives himself credit. So I decided Nivienne should be much more socially adept (read: not a lameass poser), very mischievous, confident… but lowkey has some heavy shit going on. Girl can be ruthlessly manipulative. Other WoLs of mine have different personalities.

As I was going through fic stuff, I decided I wanted to visually tie to and contrast with Emet-Selch since shipping. He’s got gold eyes and accents on his regalia? She’ll go silver, but her skin will have a more golden tone. He’s got dark hair with a white streak? She’ll have light gray hair, tie into the ruff of his coat. So on and so forth.

Name-wise, I actually fucked up initially by going too on-the-nose. Nivienne is another (more elezen-French) name for Nimue. Given how that story goes I figured it would be fitting here.

As a couple of other notes--color scheme being gray was experimenting to try for a different-but-distinct summoner aesthetic. I wanted to play up horns/third eye concepts (not strictly in the Garlean sense) and create a vibe that wouldn’t feel like white mage, or red mage, or black mage, etc. I also saw people arguing that female casters all end up looking like magical girls, so I wanted to really make sure that she had a different look from that while still being very feminine.

#final fantasy xiv #final fantasy xiv screenshots #final fantasy 14 #ffxiv #ff14

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mimiplaysgames · 5 years

Text

A Rush of Blood to the Head (5/6)

Pairing: Terra/Aqua Rating: T Word Count: 8,600

Read on AO3.

A/N: It’s been a long, long time and I’m relieved to be able to give this one to you. It was hard one, for sure. I indulged in just a teeny-weeny bit of Xemqua into it, even though that was never part of the original outline. Nomura just left me really thirsty for it though. XD

I’m Blind to It

“Aqua?”

She recognized the voice before she realized who it was - it sounded like an instinct, which told her to stand down and be safe, to sink into the bed sheets and shut her eyes, forget about the world.

It took a few seconds to register there were window curtains hovering above her. And they were hers, in perfect condition like a memory in a picture book and all she had to do was wake up and make breakfast like any other normal day.

Today was not normal though, with the heaviness in her muscles weighing her down and a pain - tremendous, searing pain - on her chest, right near her heart, which makes it hard to reply to him.

That soft voice. Deep blue eyes which were sunken and tired from many nights of poor sleep, loving and relieved but anxious. Disheveled hair that somehow looked perfect on him anyway.

“Terra,” she said out loud.

Next to her, crouched over on a lounge chair, he shuddered, heaving a dry sob before sitting up to steady himself. “You remember me,” like he’d been expecting, against hope, something different.

Of course she remembered him. Terra, her real, pure-blooded Terra with the right-colored eyes. She didn’t care how painful it was, how much it felt like her heart tore her flesh to shreds, she rolled over onto her hands and managed to crawl to the edge of the bed. To bridge the gap between them. The roar in her ears as her chest screamed was proof enough that this wasn’t a dream.

“Y- you don’t have to do that-” Here he was, with his hands in the air like he didn’t want to be blamed for how awful she felt but that was ridiculous - her pain was a temporary consequence. The breadth of his chest, the warmth of his neck, the smell of his hair - all of it was a worthy cost.

He didn’t hug her back exactly. Not the way she did it, gripped around his shoulders, trembling because she finally came home when she felt his arms around her.

No, he was more limp, a gentle brush of his palms on her upper back like he wasn’t sure how to welcome his best friend back.

How could she blame him, after what had happened…?

“Terra,” she whispered urgently. They needed to talk.

“It’s okay,” he answered, wanting none of the conversation she tried to start. And she saw something she never expected: a lie behind his smile.

To keep her from saying anything further, he searched his pockets and pulled out a brilliantly blue Wayfinder.

“I looked after it for you,” he shrugged, handing it over.

If she expected the feeling that all was right with the world would come the moment the Wayfinder found its home in her palm, she was wrong. What she realized instead was that despite all the heart she put into its creation, that this was hers, she hadn’t earned the right to have it back.

Surely he’d tell her that she was being too hard on herself, so she mentioned nothing.

Still, they needed to clear the air.

“Terra,” she tried again, and she knew (out of habit, even though they spent years apart and who knew if he was the same person) that he listened. Not knowing where to begin, she might as well head straight to the point. “I remember… what you said to me in Twilight Town.”

She must be a hypocrite, considering that she couldn’t even get herself to spell out what he said in Twilight Town, that he loved her -

- and what was she supposed to say or do with the truth after throwing it back into his face?

Would it come across as insincere if she decided now was the time to return his feelings?

The nervous twitch in his gaze and how terribly he was doing at hiding the purse of his lips at the mere mention of what he said in Twilight Town told her that yes, this was the worst time to apologize for her actions.

Part of her was desperate enough to say it, no matter how cheap it sounded in her mind: I love you, too.

And she nearly blurted it out when he kept his hands to his lap and said out loud, “I was desperate.”

Like he was the one apologizing. The face of embarrassment that seeped out of his eyes was so painstakingly obvious.

No you don’t understand, I love you too.

“I shouldn’t have said that, I’m sorry.” He stood up and shuffled his feet to lean against the backrest, the lounge chair a reliable barrier in between them.

But, I mean it. I swear I do.

“Um…” He cleared his throat, not giving her an opening to say anything, and she cursed herself for ruining it again. “Ven’s here.”

This jolted her. There was suddenly a light to break up such a disappointingly empty room.

“Ven?” Her voice shook.

Terra called out his name, his eyes scattering the floor while a hand raised to his chin, and whatever sinking, sickly feeling that sputtered in her stomach now thrashed in her bloodstream as she watched her open doorway.

There he appeared, hair like the sun, a smile brighter than the first day of spring.

“Aqua!”

She expected several things to come out of Ventus’ mouth, eyes judging with disappointment:

Ah well, didn’t take too long to wake me up just… what, THIRTEEN YEARS? Snoozed on the job? Forgot about me?

Everything’s changed, and I don’t know what to do.

… We had to fight you, and it sucked.

He gave her a hug instead, throwing himself onto the bed with such a force that Terra objected with a warning (“shoes on the bed, Ven”) but she lost herself in the crook of his neck, and couldn’t find the words to explain how sorry she was that it took her so long, and that waking him up was the biggest reason why she survived so long. Maybe that was too dark of a story to tell.

Either way, a hug and the feeling she was wanted was more than enough.

“Be careful with her,” Terra said, and made a face like he regretted saying it. Whether it was because he wanted to pretend he was distant, she didn’t know.

It hurt to hug, yes, but it was wanted. She extended her hand, gracing the bed with her fingers in an invitation so she didn’t seem too pleading in case Terra was uncomfortable. Make it a better pain , she nearly wanted to say. Hug me, please.

But Terra slithered away to the doorframe as Ventus yapped about how frightening she was under Xehanort’s influence, that she was mean, but it was cool, but it was creepy too, but he knew that everything was going to be alright. Terra crossed his arms and nodded to himself as if reassuring his mind that this was the right choice, rubbing his toes against the carpet and softly saying that he had “people to take care of.”

Ironic, since he had her to take care of too, but Aqua remembered that she was capable of looking out for herself and needing him was just a gut reaction to keep him close - something he clearly didn’t want to do.

… Didn’t he cradle her the moment before she fell asleep? Where was that Terra?

“What happened?” she asked when he left them.

Ventus grinded his teeth.

“We pulled Xehanort’s heart out of you…” was the gentle opening to what was going to be a harrowing story. “And Terra tried to crush it.”

“… He touched it?” It was enough of a crazy idea that she withdrew to a whisper, and no matter how taboo it was, it made sense to her nonetheless.

“Yeah, and he almost squeezed the life out of it.” He imitated the gesture, pressuring a fist until his fingers turned red. He let go, humbling himself. “It was disgusting… Remember how the Master used to talk about how we make connections through our hearts when we meet new people? I mean, I’d never wish anything good on Xehanort but… I nearly vomited. It was like suffocating because something smelled really bad except… there was no stench?

"Anyway… Terra couldn’t do it. He couldn’t pull it off, and let it go.”

Whatever lump that lodged itself in her throat fought a hard battle to stay there; part-guilty for putting Terra in such a position, part-proud that he stopped himself from such an extreme. One hundred percent devastated because she couldn’t imagine how furious and bereaved he must have been.

“Where did it go?”

“It floated up to,” Ventus waved his arm into the air, “Kingdom Hearts?”

If they went with what the Master taught them, then yes, Xehanort’s heart wandered to Kingdom Hearts, where all hearts go. But this was a man who cheated death, who wouldn’t have wanted his life’s goal fulfilled in such post-mortem.

“And Terra?”

“He’s grumpy all the time.” Ventus was solemn at first, before gearing himself up for excitement.

“The younger Xehanort was there and when he woke up, Terra just screamed and ran up to him and bam !” He threw his arm back and forth like a bludgeon to tell the rest of the story. “But he got away… The best part was seeing him so scared of Terra, you should have seen his face.” He gave her a stupefied stare and an exaggerated pout, shivering until he was pleased with himself.

Then he nodded toward the lounge chair by her bed, deep creases sunk into the seat from overuse. “He stayed in that chair all day and night. He even used your shower so he wouldn’t have to leave you. I babysat when he had to cook.”

She didn’t miss the sudden softness of his voice when he said that, like he’d been a useless witness to something he couldn’t take care of.

This was the first chance to really look at her room - if there was any indication that time passed by since the incident, there wasn’t much to find here: just a scuffle of clothing and plates, all Terra.

Her corset, in particular, lay neatly folded on her bedside table by an empty plate of abandoned rice.

“Sorry about that,” Ventus said. “We wanted you to be comfortable.”

She cupped his cheek with her hand to say that everything was fine, and seeing her skin on his surprised her - all the scales gone, finally human. But her sleeves, her shirt, her sashes, all ripped to shreds and dyed in a dark, musty ink and she could barely wait to rip off and burn. She had a sewing machine, and could easily make herself a new uniform.

Her legs, though, didn’t give her any confidence. Before there was that blue-purple skin which had nearly taken her over - her thighs now had these thick, disturbing veins that crept from under her stockings reaching out to her shorts, mostly numb and unresponsive.

Aqua had gotten so used to being unable to walk that she forgot this was news to a distraught Ventus. He meant well when he coddled her, and she took no offense when he asked her if she was alright four times in a row. But she went silent when he asked why .

And as young brotherly-figures go, his first thought was to tell Terra right away - he bolted out of her room before she could protest - no, please don’t tell Terra, he’s had enough of me . There was no other objection worth saying without lying to him, so instead she lied to herself.

She was fine. She could walk, even if it meant she had to lean on her table, her dresser, drag her feet just to get to her vanity table. She was fine, even when she collapsed onto her floor; she was plenty strong enough to pick herself up using her chair. She was fine, just look: her reflection in her mirror, where her eyes and hair were back to their natural blue color, just like her mother’s. Sure she was a bit paler, a bit thinner, but that could be fixed with a little bit of food.

She had the experience to know that mirrors didn’t lie, so she was perfectly alright.

The first time she woke up didn’t hurt. Hovering above her was a white ceiling, in a white room in a world that was always night, in a Castle That Never Was. This place wasn’t hers, just a strange twist of the imagination and all she had to do was come back to reality.

Next to her, relaxed and leaning back on lounge chair, he sat with a hand to his cheek. Her open eyes intrigued him, and he leaned forward, as if inspecting.

His voice was deep, eyes an invasive orange and long white hair that fell off his shoulders and it looked perfect on him, with a face she wished she could remember differently.

He slipped his hand out of his black glove, and stroked her forehead as she failed to register where she was and why he looked so familiar.

“The dream is over,” Xemnas had said to her then. And still, she did not understand.

She stood up without a problem. Right across from her was a mirror, a tall voyeur that watched her sleep, and she saw herself, bright golden eyes smirking at how far she had come and looked down on her at where she found herself.

Aqua shot a lightning bolt, shattering the glass into dust and pieces that she refused to clean up afterward.

She had the experience to know that mirrors didn’t lie, and she wanted it to remember as she stepped over its glass every day that she won.

Walking came and went as it pleased.

It came during hours when she felt confident, when Ventus treated her like nothing completely world-destroying had happened to either of them, like she was the same. It left her to be alone when she was frustrated, when he babysat her and fussed over her health.

With Terra gone all the time, the hours stacked on how much time she spent crawling.

He was hyper-focused on a long-neglected list of calls that have built up over the years since Eraqus’ death. Terra, the young hero running around world after world to save others who asked for help and she lost the courage to ask him to stay with her. Not that she would ever stop others from receiving his help, nor did she want to take away the space he obviously needed. When they crossed paths, he’d give her a slight nod and a false smile, and then hurried off. She missed his voice most of all.

If anyone had asked her what the most unnerving thing was, though, was the feeling that someone had lived in the castle while they were gone.

“You’re being paranoid,” Ventus said when she asked him if anyone had stayed in her room.

He was unfolding a yard of soft, willowy fabric that she was going add seams to for her new sleeves. She built enough strength to at least run her sewing machine.

“Then why did someone leave things here?” she asked, making sure he understood how serious the question was.

“What are you talking about?”

“There are dresses in the closet that aren’t mine.”

He cocked an eyebrow and wandered over to open her closet doors. He went through each dress to be absolutely sure she wasn’t crazy, and eventually pulled out a white dress with a blue ribbon sash.

“That one,” she picked. “It isn’t mine.”

“Are you nuts? You wore this to the Master’s party.”

“What party?”

“When you guys passed your preliminaries?” She gave him a blank stare and he finally got concerned. “You bought this dress months ahead of time for the perfect occasion and declared it was your favorite… None of that ringing a bell?”

A whole night and events before, just gone.

“I’m not crazy,” she whispered, turning back to her project and aligning the needle to the folds of fabric.

“I didn’t say you were.”

At this, she couldn’t focus anymore, rubbing her face because it was so damn scary to just not remember her life.

“I’ll never dance again,” she said, refusing to shed tears over it.

“What’s that now?” Most of the time, he was her dancing partner, and he’d never tolerate that.

“Please, I would only be able to roll around.”

“Then I’ll roll with you. We’ll call it a new move.”

A Ventus from another lifetime probably would have tried to brush it off, believing in some magical possibility that she’d get better in no time. This Ventus really grew up, and she didn’t know what she would do without him.

Terra cleared his throat, waiting by her open door - neither of them noticed he was there or for how long.

His hair was so drenched that his shirt was wet. This new Terra really showered too much.

“I’m going to make dinner,” he said, though he refused to look at her so much he might as well have said it to her door frame.

That didn’t matter, because Terra was here, and it was ridiculous how happy it made her and how much she needed their friendship to return to normal.

“I’m looking forward to it,” she said, a smile brightening her cheeks.

He glanced and caught sight of it, his eyes so wide and fixated that it looked like it hurt him. It was certainly the oddest rejection she had ever felt when he didn’t return it, and he mumbled “okay” as he left to the kitchen.

Ventus snarled behind her and rolled his eyes. “I’ll lecture him later.”

He and Aqua dominated the conversation during dinner as Terra pretended to inspect his food. At least the boy liked to focus on the happier side of life - Ventus was simply the fresh air they needed to dispel the stuffiness.

Terra answered her questions with brief responses, and at most they spoke for fifteen minutes during dinner: mostly about what he’d been doing, how she was coping. She felt how the seconds ticked, seeing how closed up he became because he sucked at hiding it, and he always broke their one chance at a get-together with an announcement (and a false smile) that he had a big day tomorrow.

Aqua had no idea he was actually preparing something for her until she woke up one morning with two wooden, waxed crutches waiting right by her bedside. He left no note, but she didn’t need one: Terra had roughly carved and sandpapered her name onto each of them, and he made sure the shoulder rest was padded enough so her armpits wouldn’t hate her from too much use. He cared. She couldn’t ask for more.

Master Eraqus taught them that their connections and bonds to other hearts could be expressed through material things, and that was all they were good for - anything else was greedy.

The crutches gave her the gift of freedom, new friends made with the hands and sweat of someone she loved. It gave her enough to really survey the ruins of the castle, and she noted that Terra was home more often than she thought - he just avoided her.

Eventually, blocked hallways opened up and led into the trails behind the academy. Paintings that were toppled over found their way home, like he needed everything to go back as it was. Walls diseased with mold eventually were demolished, rebuilt, and repainted and floors that needed retiling were fixed. Terra worked hard, and that was all he did.

She put herself to work in Eraqus’ beloved gardens, all mudded with overgrown weeds that fought for the right to stay. Sitting on her knees, she ripped them out, the parasites. If ripping a heart out was this easy, she wouldn’t have been in this mess. Dirt was shuffled to breathe, seeds were planted to nuzzle, water was given to spark.

For someone who could not walk properly, this took days, and when the sun started to come down, she would watch Terra through the upper windows of the Master’s office, carrying stacks of books and dusting. He locked himself in that most of his time, everyday, like it was his personal safe haven.

She wished it was safe enough for her to go in there with him, too.

“You’re transforming because your heart is broken. You will find that with time, the exact… reflection… of that darkness will begin to manifest.”

Vexen’s results were conclusive, and strict: if she was ever going to walk again, she had no choice but to swallow her pride and accept what was coming to her. And she was stubborn (annoyingly so), bolting out of the lab as soon as she found out, pretending not to feel embarrassed when stumbled through his doorway.

At least she did not wince when she fell on the way out, holding her head high as always.

But it was hard having to act like she was strong at all hours of the day. When she was truly herself, a girl named Aqua doing her best at keeping Xehanort’s influence suppressed, she honestly needed someone to care when she lost all feeling in her legs and slid down a wall, her hands throbbing. Crawling on her arms was humiliating and undignified, so she sat, alone in a white castle that was as empty as the inhabitants claimed to be.

It was there that Xemnas found her, and she didn’t need to ask him to carry her to a nearby couch, where she could at least sulk in comfort.

If she craned her neck as far back as it could against the backrest, she could see that the very top of the tallest towers had skylights, where one star begged for her attention through the rain clouds.

“He said the harder I refuse Xehanort’s influence, the more I lose the ability to walk,” she spat.

With enough time, she learned that there were certain glints that came to Xemnas’ fiery cold eyes. He was still such a hard case to read, and in this moment, she couldn’t tell if he was pleased or… somber.

Xemnas took a seat next to her after thoughtful consideration, his hands leaning over his knees. “Of course, you will continue to fight.”

His rich voice betrayed him - he was not only stating the obvious with her, but he nearly commanded her as well. This was comforting.

“What’s going to happen to me?” she asked, even though Vexen told her already and the younger Xehanort loved to remind her.

“You would be cast into a remarkable place of oblivion,” he said with a small smile, and she wondered what image came to his mind. “Come to send us deliverance from all the powers that bind you to this state in the first place.”

She scoffed, sharp enough to call out the ridiculousness of his words. “You make me sound like a savior.”

“Hm,” he shook his head. “Something more elegant than that.”

There was nothing about the ache in her hands and how scaly her skin was turning that made her feel sophisticated or beautiful. What a strange man he was not to mind what she was becoming.

“An angel,” she quipped. It was a foolish and pathetic wish, but at least she was honest.

Xemnas’ smiles were never fully pleasant and warm - they spoke of leverage, like he had secret aspirations and whims. “With black wings.”

She pursed her lips. He was absolutely horrible at being endearing, but the image of her gaining freedom in the skies with a pair of black wings was welcome. Maybe she can force Xehanort to grow them for her and she wouldn’t need legs anymore. And then no one, not even him, would dare try to control her again.

It was sickening - she loved and hated how powerful she felt when she was less herself. When she was too tired to care about anyone around her, she felt how much more of a kick her magic received, how strong the pace of her legs were, how confident she was staring down at the things that scared her most (like Terra); it was empowering to let go.

Then the fear settled on the mornings she would wake up and realize that she barely recognized herself, and all over again she struggled to stay standing, and her arms would hurt, and she became meeker as she wondered if she was going crazy. And the cycle started again.

“I don’t want to do this anymore,” she started in a whisper, expecting him to tell her to give in, let Xehanort take over so she could rest. But he didn’t. “There wasn’t a point to any of it… having a Keyblade, fighting darkness or fighting for the light and losing one battle but winning another - it goes in circles and it never stops.”

Aqua knew she sounded a lot like Xehanort, but this was straight from her heart, and Xemnas nodded in agreement.

“I don’t want to be a Keyblade wielder,” she continued, “and I don’t care to be a seeker of darkness. I want nothing to do with either of them, I just want to live my life peacefully as…”

She paused, her voice getting caught in her throat as she searched for the right word.

Xemnas gave her the gift of the softest smile she had ever seen on his face (a smile for a cost, that gift was never for free), and his was twisted too much to look like Terra’s even though they were so close. But of course he was different. He was a somebody that understood.

“A Nobody,” he answered for her.

“A nobody,” she agreed.

Aqua, truly herself, rolled over onto her hands, black leather gloves squeaking against white, and she crawled over to his lap, resting her head against his thigh, breathing in his cologne - strong, like himself, smelling of patchouli. If he was made of nothing, at least he was warm.

She saw the smirk he undoubtedly wore in her mind, his head resting against his hand looking down on her like he was celebrating a conquest. She let him think he won a game; why bother denying that they both needed a connection to balance out the numbness. One of these days, Kingdom Hearts was going to swallow them both, and she didn’t want to be alone when that happened.

He slipped a glove off, and his fingers ran through her hair, brushing against her scalp. It was soothing, and she figured some part of it was for him, too.

Her knees begged her for mercy but she knew them better, and she took it one step at a time. The crutches were strapped to her back just in case, and her fingers braced against the wall to keep her up. Aqua never recalled a time where her own body felt this heavy, but this, this was good progress.

What tugged her along was the smell of mixed spices. By this time, Terra would have already taken his second shower of the day, and Ventus would be nagging at him to hurry up. How amazed would her boys be once they see her walking through the kitchen door.

She leaned too hard against the doorway for her taste, but damn it all, she was proud of herself too for keeping straight.

“You’re walking,” Ventus exclaimed when he saw her. He was already sitting at the table, his plate and fork prepared.

Terra forgot he was holding a ladle, so freshly showered that his hair was still soaking. He scrambled to pull out her chair for her, anticipating her movements until she sat down.

“Thank you,” she said, relying on the table as a guide so she could bend her knees and sit down without collapsing.

“Mhmm,” he muttered as he scurried back to the stove without looking her in the eye.

Dinner went as always, with Ventus conducting the conversations and working (so hard) on keeping everyone’s spirits up. With how much she had improved, she was really feeling these warmer vibes, and conversations about their memories, even about the Master, didn’t hurt this evening. Healing demanded to take its own pace, but it was the best of friends she could ask for.

They had even caught Terra smirking to himself as he listened to their stories.

“Now that everything’s better,” she said to him, as if walking was still too difficult a word to utter, “maybe we could take a camping trip, like we used to have.”

The look on Ventus’ face said he already started planning what they would do. “I really miss fishing. You would make the best dinner out of that.”

“Yeah! That’s not too hard on the body,” she agreed.

It was a good feeling to look forward to a new day again.

Terra’s smile faltered before picking itself back up again. “Are you sure you’re okay to do that?” he asked her but he really addressed his stew.

“I think so.” She stared hard at his features. His skin was really red from scrubbing, and his eyes scattered so frequently to the point that he was surely talking himself into how to behave. “I think it’s worth it. We deserve to have our lives back to the way they were.”

He drew a sharp inhale and she thought that she hurt him somehow. But he finally, finally looked at her, his eyes searching for a reason to say something. He didn’t have the strength to keep going, shifting between swirling his food and taking glances her way.

“We’ll see.” He stood up and carried his unfinished bowl. “I have to check how many worlds I still need to visit.”

“That’s not annoying,” Ventus said with a tone that clearly told the opposite.

Terra ignored him and scraped his leftovers.

“You can’t keep doing this,” Ventus snapped. “She’s trying to-”

“That’s enough, Ven,” Terra interrupted. That softness in his voice still existed, but it was so much more quiet, exactly the way he would speak when he signaled a warning.

And exactly the way he spoke on that horrid day in Radiant Garden all those years ago. Terra summoned that mythical wall of his to keep the both of them at a distance, and he walked away, his footsteps heavy.

“It’s fine,” she said and it broke the silence.

“No it isn’t.” Ventus stabbed at his food, one hand rubbing a headache off his forehead. “He’s such a knucklehead.”

“Not really…”

“Pssh, he’s worse than you.”

That was mostly untrue, and they both knew it. The smiles they threw at each other were weak but at least they weren’t feeling them alone.

But pleasantries didn’t last, and the isolation Ventus’ smirk cast away would sink back into her bones again as she thought of watching Terra’s shoulders from behind, distancing further and further away from her.

She thought of that late afternoon in San Fransokyo when she asked Xemnas to join her atop a roof where they watched Sora struggle to save civilian collateral. He had said something to the effect that it would all be over soon and she finally decided that she couldn’t go down that route, so she watched his tall, relaxed shoulders for several moments as a silent good-bye before she struck him from behind.

There were a lot of sacrifices she had made in the name of friendship, and now she lost them both.

On her way back to her bedroom, her knees finally gave in. She used her crutches to pick herself up, not letting Ventus provide any help - loss of pride wasn’t something she was willing to deal with right now.

Aqua found herself taking inventory as she sat on her bed, carefully inspecting the furniture and decorations around her, what she did and did not remember.

It was quiet but it was noisy, the wind howling as it rattled the glass on her window and she didn’t want to see how vacant and dark it was outside so she leaned back to close the curtains. It didn’t muffle the sound.

“Come on,” she commanded as she massaged and rubbed her thighs, shaking them to wake the muscles up. Going from a rough grip to a gentle rub, moving from her pelvis all the way down to the knee, flexing her feet so that her calves responded.

There was no tension in her tendons or anywhere that she could feel. She just needed her heart to remember that this body was hers.

She repeated the phrase in between sobs, and after the third time leaned forward to rest her hand on her bedside table. Aqua shifted her weight to her feet, Aqua shook vehemently, and Aqua, the girl with a Keyblade who became a Master and no one was going to steal that memory away from her, stood up.

She was leaning on her fingers against the surface of the table, but still, success.

A knock on her door. It was well past midnight by this point, and Ventus should be putting himself to bed instead of worrying about her.

“Come in, Ven.”

It was Terra, and her heart nearly burst out of her throat. He had a well-lit lantern close to his chest, which couldn’t shine in comparison to how bright her room was but against the darkness of the hallway, it was brilliant.

“Um…” Every word he thought of to say, he rejected, and he rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand. He looked utterly defeated, his heart terribly broken and she didn’t know what to do with the pieces. Terra was always the bravest, and with how terrified he was standing right in front of her, she realized she had been watching him try to glue his heart back together by himself.

“I noticed your light was still on,” was what he settled with.

“Yeah,” she said, breathlessly, and as much as she wanted to keep it comfortable for him, she couldn’t help but smile from ear to ear.

“You um, having trouble sleeping?”

“Ah, not always.”

“I heard you crying,” he said softly.

If she wasn’t standing too straight before, Aqua made sure to look like she was now.

“Come on,” he said, gesturing his head down the hallway. “I’ll take your blankets.”

This was certainly familiar - they used to sneak out of the castle some nights to find a spot under the stars. In stormy days, they camped indoors in whatever room they fancied.

Aqua shook her head, the thought of being a burden rising in her mind. “You don’t have to do that-”

“Please,” he stressed, like he didn’t want to hear it.

With that, she agreed, her heart taking somersaults and she swallowed too many times to suppress her smiles. He gave her the lantern to hold for herself in the dark, and he brushed past her to bundle up sheets and pillows - he was even close enough for her to smell his shampoo. She remembered exactly what it was made of: sandalwood and sunflower. Though very pleasant, she wished she could breathe his natural skin.

The lantern created a halo around the two of them as she followed him through the quiet hallways; only a light this bright would be given to her by him. Terra took his time walking, holding her blankets in both of his arms as he allowed her to keep up with him.

She never asked where he was taking her to, basking in the glory of trusting him to lead her well, just like the old days. At least she recognized the doors he opened for her.

“Oh, Terra, it looks great,” she said with a sigh as they stepped into their old Master’s office.

The desk was neat and orderly - too neat for Terra but it was clear that he wasn’t doing this for himself. All of the books were arranged in their shelves. The wardrobe was repainted and rewaxed, its scruffs filled in. The couch by the warm fire was clean and welcoming, decorations repaired and placed back, exactly where they belong.

Terra fixed time in this room, as if the Master had never left, save for the new memorial - the Master’s Defender, hanging sophisticatedly above the fire as if watching over them.

“You did such a good job,” she reiterated, tears almost to her cheeks.

A stack of Terra’s blankets waited for them already (he had really planned to bring her along, she really needed a hug from him now). He threw them into piles to makeshift a mattress on the rug, letting her take the couch for herself. The trees outside rustled violently against the wind, overpowering the cackle of the fire and filling the space between them.

Aqua was finally welcomed into Terra’s safe haven, and it made sense why he chose this room.

It was a room only the Master occupied and there was no way that would change. A framed photo of Eraqus, with a bright smile behind his bushy mustache, watched them from atop a desk right next to her, so they wouldn’t be able to do anything inappropriate, much less talk about romantic and otherwise mixed, hurt, complicated, heavy feelings.

Terra cleared his throat, lifting his blankets up to his lap. “You comfortable?”

“Yeah,” she whispered. He looked far more comfy to snuggle with than the couch she sat on, honestly.

He reached for something dark - a white leather-bound journal, actually, wrapped in a black tarp. “I thought this might help you… you know, remember things.”

A reasonable gesture, except -

“What is this?”

Terra blinked several times as if to stop what he was thinking. “We used to write in it.” He cleared his throat again. “We kept it hidden from Ven, actually.”

The first page donned two dark red fingerprints, smeared a little, with two children’s scrawls; one done in her handwriting, the other Terra’s. They both read ’ Best Friends Forever .’

Here was proof she wrote this, but nothing came to mind.

Something on her face gave that away, because Terra volunteered. “We used to make blood pacts.”

“Why did we stop?”

“They hurt too much.” If anyone could chuckle without smiling, it was Terra.

The next page was a mix-match of scrawls, some words scratched out and replaced, like the authors were in disagreement.

“What’s this?” she asked more to herself, and read out loud:

“ If I ever doubt her again, I will rub mud into my armpits…”

Terra groaned. “I lost a bet and you made me write that.”

Aqua couldn’t help herself except to melt into laughter, and each time she tried to stop, she failed. The greatest blessing was that it was contagious, and he actually cracked a small pull of his lips, his hand rubbing the back of his neck as he watched her struggle to contain herself.

“Which bet did I win?” she managed to ask in between breaths.

“I… don’t really remember.”

“Fair enough.” It was a dead end. Hopefully the other entries would not be fossilized like this one.

She randomly flipped through more pages, coming across a photo of the three of them, wearing formal clothes at a party. There she was, wearing a beautiful white dress with lace, and a blue ribbon sash. It dawned on her - she gave up a memory to wake Ventus up, and it must have had something to do with this journal.

It was excessive though, how these memories were tied to each other like a web and everything related to this journal was now infected. When Vexen said that she would be losing memories connected to whatever she gave up, he wasn’t kidding.

Instead of wallowing in the self-pity that ensued as she thought about it, she decided to go back and see what else their childhood selves came up with.

“What the-?”

Terra actually scoffed, heartily even, his smile showing the faintest of teeth, and it was a beautiful sound.

“A lot of those pages are going to be recipes. We made some up.” It was the way he said it that told her there was much more hiding.

“Terra, these are disgusting ,” she said and her cheeks hurt, reading the lists carefully. These recipes lacked imagination and for that, they must have suffered for trying them. “Most of them are in your handwriting.”

“I like to think I was creative.”

“Or insane.”

He cleared his throat and his face stiffened, calming his smile down, and she hated herself for ruining it. She didn’t mean to - honestly, she was the crazy one between the two of them.

“I hope you’re finding it helpful.” He nodded to the journal.

“… You mean, be more normal.”

“No-”

“I know,” she reassured him. How she hated the feeling of her smile falling. “Thank you, Terra. I’m glad you gave this to me.”

He took too long of a silent moment. “It will be okay,” he said, and maybe it was partly to himself. “Like you said, things will eventually go back to the way they were.”

That wasn’t what she meant. It was impossible, and she was sure he knew it. But kids could dream, right? They found themselves staring up at the Master Defender, watching under the faint glow of the fire beneath it, and the movement of the flames made it look like it lived.

“Is it… off?” she asked. “Dormant?”

He shrugged with one shoulder. “From time to time, but it will help us when we need it. You know, you could take it if you want to.”

“Terra-” she scoffed.

“You’ve been with it for a long time-”

“I can’t even walk properly. How am I supposed to fight?”

“Well, when you get better,” he said, not realizing that she shifted uncomfortably at the suggestion.

Getting better was a guarantee, but what was not was being able to do anything else he assumed: training, traveling the worlds, being a proper Keyblade Master. As much as she wanted this night to be pleasant – to be this close to him again was a gift she shouldn’t take for granted – she reminded herself that telling him was just going to be a few minutes of tension. Hopefully, that would all be what it took before things got better between them.

“I don’t have my Keyblade anymore,” she said flatly, since there was no point in hiding it from him.

He stared first. “What?”

“I-”

“You never told me.”

She had enough of seeing him so upset, and wished she never said anything. “I don’t know where it is. I gave it up… to save you.”

His eyes flickered as hard as the fireplace in front of them, and he didn’t have the will to relax his jaw.

“I’ll find it,” he finally said after a silence that squirmed in between them.

“Terra-”

“I’ll find it,” he snapped and he wanted the final say in this. Any hope she had of laughing with him tonight quickly burned away.

He was softer than that, though, and realized what he had done.

“I’ll find it,” he repeated once again, in a soft whisper like he made a reassuring promise to her.

Promises were normally innocent and full of faith - how unnerving it was to see them lose these qualities, to see him give one to her exhausted, like he had nothing else to lose. The last thing she could do now was take this away from him, too.

“As long as you stay safe,” she whispered, the pain hitting her chest of letting him go like this.

This, she could see, he appreciated. The first genuine smile he gave her. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

In this safe space, she pulled the sheets to her chin and watched him sleep, losing the tension in his forehead as he dreamed of a fantasy that kept him safe from the shadows that flickered in the room and danced all over his body. If this was the closest she would ever get to him, she decided she would be okay with that.

Still, she made wishes under her breath.

It was nearly time for Terra to come home and the butterflies in her stomach lurched at not only the thought, but at the nasty smell that came out of her oven. It was simply putrid .

And this made her giggle. Fish were foul when they weren’t seasoned with anything, and the more she anticipated Terra’s arrival, the longer she was able to stand and walk and bake all by herself. Her crutches rested right next to the stovetop, just in case. It was cloudy outside, which kept the summer temperature cool.

The cupcakes were done, fish heads sticking out of the domes with empty eye-sockets - there wasn’t a need to be watched by them. Besides, the recipe specifically called for it.

She had a stack of clean, gutted fish lying on a tray on the counter, where she had also gathered lemon peels, garlic, and basil for a delicious home-cooked meal that she would cook later at a more appropriate time.

When she heard footsteps coming closer, she took a moment to calm herself.

“Aqua, it reeks,” Terra said as he stormed into the kitchen, his hair soaking and smelling so wonderfully shampooed that she realized she would need to wash the fish oils off of her hair soon.

“It does,” she said matter-of-factly.

He blinked several times as he wandered from the grotesque desserts to the open secret journal where his ten-year-old’s scrawls were visibly readable.

“What did you do?”

“I made fish cupcakes - your favorite.”

He rubbed his face. “They look disgusting.”

“You were a pretty gross kid,” she giggled, and relied on the counter to give herself balance. “Just some flour, eggs… that’s it. No sugar, even.”

He leaned on the counter with his elbows, to meet her face to face. “So what do we do with them?”

“We eat them. I added salt to make it easier.”

He lurched back. “You’re not serious.”

“I am.” It sounded sadder than she wanted it to. “I don’t remember us playing with any of this and I thought… why not relive it?”

He studied his palm against the marble of the counter, his fingers splayed out and he took his time to think of his response. When he looked her in the eye, Aqua felt safe enough to smile.

“If you really wanted to know, you could’ve just asked,” he said. “They were nasty.”

“We have to chew and swallow,” she commanded. This was more normal, turning something like this into a competitive game.

He bit his lip and scoffed, pulling a cupcake from its tray. “Good luck.”

She took her cupcake and they stood in silence, waiting to see who would be the first to do it (Aqua, he followed immediately after she started moving). The fish was out of its element, in a crumbly, dry cake that fell apart the moment it hit moisture. It was acidic at best, that odor invading her sinuses and Terra leaned over his knees gagging, all the while keeping his mouth shut and forcing himself to chew. She was more refined, in perfect posture while she used both hands as a barrier to her mouth and let the tears fall proudly.

Terra groaned out loud, gasping for air when he was finished, sticking his tongue out to show his triumph. “I won.”

“Mm-mm.” She jerked her head and chewed the last bits, saying a prayer before that large swallow and the worst was over. She relaxed her jaw as proof. “I swallowed, too.”

“I finished first.”

“That wasn’t part of the game-”

“Bullshit.”

“We only said ’ chew and swallow ,’ not to ’ do it first ’.”

“You’re such a sore loser.”

“What of it?”

He moaned, whining about what was going to happen next as he searched his pockets to free whatever was poking him so he could at least sit comfortably. Out of them were a bag of munny, vials of healing potions, a small hunting knife, and his Wayfinder -

Badly damaged, with cracks in one of the wings and its metal border bent outward in a sharp angle.

“What happened to it?” She cursed herself for asking about a sensitive subject, when they were having so much fun.

Terra stared at it. “Xehanort didn’t take good care of it,” he said flatly, and this was the first time either of them had uttered that name since she woke up.

If anything they were too tired, letting a moment of silence follow that name, because there was nothing either of them could say that would have mended what had happened. They were in agreement anyway: he was a monster, a thief, a demon. He ruined their lives. He used them and left them for dead.

Why bother even venturing into that territory?

She placed her palm over his Wayfinder, its orange glow noticeably less vibrant. And she waited - to see if he would insist on taking it back. She dragged it along the counter, and all he did was rest his chin on his palm, carefully eyeing it as it crawled away from him.

Any moment, he would snatch it back, and she stalked for the opportunity to wrestle it for herself.

But he didn’t, a little smile shyly creeping out of his mouth.

“I’m going to fix it,” she said as she brought it to her chest. “And you can’t stop me.”

“I wasn’t going to.” There, there was a softness she hadn’t seen in years from him and for a second she forgot what day of the year it was.

“Good.” She returned his smile, and the sun shone brighter through the windows. Aqua pulled out two more cupcakes. “Onward then. First one to swallow it wins this time.”

Terra and Aqua were always good sports, whether the game was to win boasting rights or it was designed to make each other miserable. The fish tasted just as badly, but it was actually harder to swallow it this second go-round, their taste buds punishing them for doing it again. They found themselves encouraging each other not to give up.

The castle finally heard its first share of laughter in years, and she felt like she won no matter the results.

#terraqua #terra #aqua #aquanort #xemnas #kh fanfic #kingdom hearts fanfiction #ventus #ahhhhh it's finally here #i've been so busy #with moving #with a new job #with TWO zines #i still have to talk about those too haha #my fic

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