#and i wish they'd keep their mouths shut sometimes

[localmacguffin]

Not to be USamerican on main, but it is really frustrating seeing people scream "Vote Blue no matter what! People will die, but it'll be less" to the people who are literally being genocided by the current Democratic leadership. If you have to say it, say it with your whole chest: you think their people are acceptable casualties.

What's also absolutely infuriating is this soapboxing about ~pure ideologism preventing actual structural change~ when people say they don't want to vote. Do you think we don't know our options are dogshit? Do you think we don't know that other countries have structurally better democracies? This is especially frustrating coming from non-USamericans who act like every single American is too stupid to understand our own political system. It's not like several of us have been victims of federal policy, regardless of whether or not they wear red or blue. It's also not like several of those choosing not to vote in the way people demand are making strategic political decisions elsewhere.

I completely understand being frustrated that the world has to bow to the whims of the U.S. Empire. But a lot of you are just sanctimonious pricks about it.

[catboyieejeno]

nct dream reaction ₊˚ପ⊹

➸ the dreamies as boyfriends.

alt title: the dreamies are boyfriend coded—that's all.

content: gn! reader, fluff, slightly suggestive, mentions of food

masterlist

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ mark lee

mark is very easily flustered in general, so what is he supposed to do when the prettiest person ever is just simply existing in his presence? just remembering you're in the room and stealing a glance your way awakens the most teenage-boyish feelings within him, tips of his ears red and nerves bubbling as if he isn't already in a relationship with you

he's endeared by the most minute gestures and quirks of yours, the ones that go unnoticed by others. like your little huff when you're frustrated or the way you scrunch your nose when you're not satisfied or contemplating something

they way you randomly squeeze his hand when you guys are walking will drive him up the wall. this man will audibly gasp or squeak, clutch his chest, and squeeze his eyes shut to recover from the way his heart is suddenly and fiercely pounding in his chest

he's constantly geeking out over you, though he doesn't gush to the dreamies too often. they'd just make fun of him and tbh he doesn't wanna hear it, but on occasion he'll talk to jaehyun or johnny since they're close and more than willing to lend an ear

can only go so long without a kiss from you. i give him maximum two hours (sometimes sooner) before he's looking into your eyes in that way that tells you he's going to kiss you

his hands would come up to hold your face and his lips would mold into a soft, doughy smile before pressing into yours. it's delicate and lingering, and he breathes you in every time, hands only leaving your face to wrap tightly around you and hold you close to his chest

would do the typical 'wipe the corner of your mouth with his thumb' when you're eating together or pick an eyelash from your cheek, holding it up and insisting you make a wish and blow it away so it comes true

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ huang renjun

we know renjun has no filter, but i don't see him being too frequently outspoken about his feelings with/towards you; he's slightly reserved in this regard because giving cheesy compliments feels slightly foreign and awkward and he doesn't thinks it's something he's good at

initially, that is.

that reservation lasts up until the moment the most unplanned, instinctual, and heartfelt "gosh, i could look at you forever," leaves his lips.

he didn't plan to make you flustered; in fact, he didn't even plan on saying it out loud. he was just obliviously voicing his thoughts, but once he saw the flush of red that spread across your cheeks, eyes dreamy and wide with surprise, renjun questions how he ever went a day without being the reason for this look on your face.

huang renjun pays so much attention to detail when it comes to you, whether it's about your favorite food/restaurant or your coffee order or the different scents/products you like. you'll literally never have to repeat yourself with him, he's always listening very closely and noticing all the small things about you that no one has ever picked up on

he's so gentle and considerate, an 'actions speak louder than words' kind of guy. constant acts of service, making sure you keep up with meals, helping with chores, naming and watering your plants, etc.

and, undoubtedly, he's definitely the best out of the dreamies at taking care of you when you're sick.

now... he will wear a mask and wont kiss you until you're 100% better

or at least until he's sure you're not contagious

but you can bet this boy is making you fresh tea and soup daily, checking your temperature every thirty minutes, rubbing menthol on your chest and running you a bath + sticking a towel in the dryer so it's warm when he wraps it around you and gets you ready for bed

will not leave your side until you make a complete recovery

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ lee jeno

his natural resting state is his face tucked into your neck or shoulder

before he's even opened his eyes on an early morning, his face is nuzzling into yours, lips nibbling at your neck, plush and wet and leaving the lightest of kisses on your warm skin. he's completely enveloped by your scent, lulled to sleep for a bit longer by the sounds of your even breaths

if you're standing in a queue or at a party, he'll rest his cheekbone onto your shoulder, both arms wrapping around your waist. occasionally he'll leave a kiss on the nearest accessible spot of exposed skin, but since he's the shyest member (according to the dreamies), he might not do much more in regards to PDA

hand holding is a must though, especially when it's cold and your linked hands are tucked into his jacket pocket. so cheesy but you gotta let it slide bc it's lee jeno

loves to help you pick your outfits/shop with you... loves it.

has absolutely all the patience in the world, and will watch you with stars in his eyes as you style yourself, nervously offering his opinion every so often

will ask you to get up from your seat so that he can take it and pull you onto his lap instead. 7/10 times he'll get hard but can you blame him...

speaking of laps, please let him nap on yours :( jeno will pout and beg for a chance to sleep on your thighs or tummy, insisting that the quality of his sleep is drastically improved when he's on you. also, it's implied that he wants you to massage his scalp and play with his hair... will be out within five minutes if you do

and if he were to stir awake and the lights in the room were too bright, he'd tiredly drag your hand over to rest on his cheek and shade his eyes so he can keep sleeping

would absolutely love if you showed an interest in any of his hobbies

for example, he'd be so giddy if you let him teach you how to play a video game, holding your hand over the mouse and keyboard and pressing your fingers down on the buttons as he mutters instructions into your shoulder

or if you wanted to ride bikes with him or go to the gym with him, he'd be so attentive and watchful over you, making sure you have a good time doing the things that he likes

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ lee donghyuck

the partner privilege is real with this one

like, he'll be actively feeding you a bite of his food and another member would ask to try it, and he would immediately complain (even though he eventually gives in anyway) just because ugh! it's not the same as letting you have some, you know?

and on the topic of food, when you try his, he will be feeding it to you. no, he will not let you do it yourself so don't even try it—lee donghyuck lives and breathes for the way you roll your eyes in feigned annoyance before accepting the spoonful he so meticulously prepared for you, cheeks stuffed because it was probably too much. he'd even coo at you, going on about how cute you look and asking how you like the taste

will feel betrayed if you watch an episode of a show you're meant to be watching together without him. and while he's on tour or stuck at the dorms, he will facetime you so you can watch it together

he's genuinely so enamored and obsessed with you, in a way that might not even be entirely normal or sane. loves laying on your chest so that he can hear your heart and yes, he will shamelessly ask you to scratch his back, humming contently after each drag of your nails on his skin

cannot seem to get enough affection, ever

also cannot seem to get close enough to you. if it was possible, he'd merge into you to be closer but since it isn't, he'll just have to settle for cuddle sessions where he's wrapped around you like a koala, leg swung across you and pinning you in place.

he's a little dependent when he's with you, so he has a bit of a hard time when he's on tour. hyuck needs to talk to you and hear your voice and he will do anything and everything necessary to make that happen, whether it's staying up ridiculously late, or getting up before the sun to match your schedule. when he's away, he misses you so, so bad that it literally and physically hurts

and he's so soft on these phone calls, constantly reminding you that he misses you and your voice and your touch

he'll endlessly tell you that he loves you, all teasing and jokes aside—he can go back to doing all that when he gets home. for now, he's rambling about all the things he did that day that you would have liked and promising that he will bring you there one day

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ na jaemin

the honeymoon phase never truly ends when you're dating na jaemin. he is the biggest flirt, and i do not say that lightly

compliments and teases you like it's second nature because it is. he's constantly trying to swoon you and is not at all shy about skin-ship, clinging to you when he feels like he needs a bit of extra loving.

i think people underestimate how romantic jaemin is because he tends to be a bit subtle about it, and contrary to popular belief, i think he'd only really pull that side of him out in private, only for you to see. he's not particularly against PDA, just prefers to soak you in when the two of you are alone and together

slow kisses that hide how eager and enamored he really is, fingertips softly grazing all the way up your arms until they disappear into the back of your hair. it's insane how every kiss feels like the first with him, just as exciting, giddy, and warm.

if he has to get up before you for practice or schedules, he'll leave a kiss on your forehead before literally tucking you in, promising to be "back home and in your arms before you know it!"

when i say na jaemin would do anything to make you happy... that is not at all an exaggeration

movie night? you can pick the film and snacks. a couple's trip or vacation? he'll have you make a list of everything you wanna do and follow it through to the very last detail. an argument or disagreement? you're always in the right. if he so much as senses it's escalating, he'll quickly apologize. whatever it is you're fighting about, it's not worth upsetting you over. genuinely has so much love for you, he doesn't ever want to see you unhappy.

learns the recipes to your favorite foods so that he can make them for you whenever you want/crave them

if you were comfortable with it, he'd shower with you every single day, it's literally his favorite thing

and it's not even sexual half the time bro :( i mean... unless you wanted it to be

it's his fingers slowly scrubbing the shampoo into your scalp, hands massaging your upper back and shoulders, applying your facial cleanser and drawing shapes into the foam on your cheeks and forehead...

will 100% hog the hot water, though

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ zhong chenle

uses humor to flirt with you

even when he's mad at you he's still cracking jokes lmfao

kind of mean when he's playing around, but he knows to never take it too far. he doesn't actually want to hurt your feelings, he only wants to convince you that he's not as infatuated with you as he actually is.... although sometimes he slips up lol

like, he'll be gawking at you with so much love in his eyes, then suddenly crack a joke or poke fun at you. it might be quite confusing for an outsider, especially since after he's done laughing at you, he'd lean in and peck your cheek as a wordless truce. you're used to it by now though, and it's honestly kinda sweet because you know by now that pestering is his own way of showing you that he loves you

will pretend to ignore you so that you're forced to ask him for attention because he likes feeling needed/wanted by you

chenle is the personification of the phrase 'dating your best friend'. there's no one who makes you laugh quite as hard as him, or who knows you as well as he does. and, even at times where he isn't the most directly affectionate, he's still following you from room to room as you go about your day, dramatically dragging his feet bc where are you going without him :(

if you praise him for any reason at all, you've immediately turned him into putty and rendered him incapacitated—his cold front has been breached, and no amount of shrugging or 'tsk'-ing from him can hide the grin on his face or the way his eyes have softened and molded into hearts

your approval means everything to him, and he'd never tell you, but he'd constantly worry if he was enough for you or if you deserved better

when he is in an affectionate mood, you can expect lazy kisses just about anywhere. he gets in these moods when he's sleepy, far too tired to keep up his cold act, choosing instead to nestle himself in your warmth and soak in everything that is you.

instead of playing with his ring to go to sleep, you find that he frequently falls asleep, quietly snoring, with the material of your shirt clutched in his hand

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ park jisung

is touch-starved and it shows!

but the idea of outwardly asking you for affection terrifies him, so every time you perform any kind of skin ship, he desperately tries to express how much he likes it by smiling at you or leaning into your touch in hopes that you catch on to the fact that he loves it and he loves you and he wants more

eventually, as he grows more comfortable in the relationship, daring to initiate some touching of his own... as soon as he reaches this point, you realize there's no stopping him

he'd pick up the cutest little habits like spontaneously kissing you mid sentence because he just can't help himself or wait until you're done speaking bc he just needs to kiss you now or he'll die

that, or he'd catch himself playing with your fingers as he listens to the sound of your voice or while the two are laying down and you're telling him about literally anything

his thumb will be brushing ever so gently over your wrist, knuckles, and fingers as he hums to ensure you that he's still listening, his deep voice making his chest rumble under your cheek

but his favorite habit he's developed by far would be having you curled up on his lap, and it's not even in a sexual way or whatever

genuinely, he's never felt more at home

jisung busies himself caressing your soft skin or playing with your hair as you both mindlessly talk about random topics

and all of a sudden he's hyperaware of the situation and his heart swells up with love + a brush creeps up on his cheeks because hahaha wdym you're sitting on his lap rn??!?!?!

and if you glance up at him, fully expect him to get more flushed and hide in your shoulder

constantly buys you your favorite snack but eats most of them before you get around to trying them :( but like you can't even be mad

overall very soft and baby and just about anything you do makes him fall in love with you again

⋆ ★

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

Ayo can we get a hot ass "keep my wife's name out your goddamn mouth" Kathy x John

Kathy does routine physical exams obviously and in the showers Price overhears some locker room talking about his wife, how they'd like those hands to go further, like how she bosses them around etc.

Cue him rounding the corner to give them a solid punch and "Don't you dare utter my wife's name again"

Up to you if she rewards him ☺️

yes you fucking can!!!!

That's My Wife!

pairing: F!OC: Kathleen "Brass" Moore x John Price words: 1.5K~ cw: jealousy, protectiveness, arguments, violence, injuries (mentioned), misogyny, sexually-charged comments, "locker room talk", smutless smut.

The worst time of the year for the army medical staff at Tidworth is September. Oh, how the nurses and doctors hate the month of September during which, for two weeks straight, they see nothing but soldier after soldier for health checks and physical exams to confirm that they’re fit for service.

It’s, unfortunately, repetitive, mind-numbing and time-consuming. It’s also, unfortunately, a whole hands on deck situation. So, everyone who’s not actively doing something else, gets called in to help process the soldiers.

That’s how Kathleen ends up, every year, in the clinic, helping physicians assess the soldiers. Her jobs tend to be easy. More of the same that she tends to already do: measuring heights and weights, calculating their BMI and body fat percentages, using the stethoscope to listen to their heartbeat and breathing, manning the blood pressure gauge…

And, of course, the most interesting stuff. Conducting stress tests and having to strap all sorts of machines and sensors to the soldiers and monitor how they perform as they run on a treadmill, as well as doing physical checks on old injuries, scars…

In short, she spends a long time in front of shirtless men… and even longer touching their chests, arms, backs, and sometimes their legs, to check for injuries, which often ends with her crouching or kneeling at their feet.

And, of course, the stupid soldiers can’t keep their mouths shut. More often than not they make a few remarks about taking her out later, about coming to see her more often, of being lucky they get her for their checks…

It’s a nightmare. Kathleen hates it. In fact, she wishes she wasn’t tasked with that every year… But the choice is her or risking one of the pretty new interns having to do it, girls who haven’t yet developed the thick skin she has, and would likely giggle and get flustered at the lads behaviour… instead of calling them out on it or just downright ignoring them.

September, as it turns out, is also a nightmare for John. But he only figured that out today.

After his Bravo team finished training for the morning, John allowed them to hit the showers and he stayed behind to finish some work and talk with Soap.

As they enter the locker room, the rest of Bravo team is already in the communal showers, talking loudly amidst themselves and laughing, their voices echoing amidst the spraying of the showers over them.

John pops open his locker and starts shedding his workout kit, tossing it into his bag on the shelf. Soap isn’t far from him, a few lockers up, in the adjacent wall, his locker door having his name ‘MACTAVISH’ inside the clear plastic name tag holder, with a post-it naming him ‘F.N.G’ scotch taped below it.

John doesn’t need to pay much attention to know they’re talking about women, especially, the nurses from the nearby Tidworth base. All of them had gone through their check-ups in the last couple of days and, as is typical, they couldn’t keep their traps shut about the pretty women with soft hands doting all over them.

“Oh, mine bent over and pushed those tits of hers right up to my knee.” One of them said.

“Lucky bastard. I got a bloke.” Another replied.

Oh, how many times John had told them to be quiet and keep those sorts of talks to themselves when they were at the barracks, and not in public… But did those knobheads listen? No, never.

John grabbed his towel and 2-in-1 shampoo and bodywash and headed into the showers, taking up one of the vacant spots and drawing the curtain after hanging the curtain just outside his stall.

“I swear she was giving me the look… Definitely wants a piece of me.”

“No bird would want a piece of yer ugly mug.”

The lads continued talking as he let the water run over his body and began quickly lathering himself up with his 2-in-1, washing his hair and face aggressively before running his head under the falling shower water.

“I’m not devout, but this new batch’a nurses they got this year makes me a believer.”

“That’s right, brother.”

One-by-one they started vacating their stalls, still chatting loudly about their check-ups and the young women that treated them, lounging about the locker room and making each other laugh.

“But that arse of hers… I just know she’d bounce so well on my cock-”

“Oh that’s nothing. You didn’t see her last year before they changed the colour of the scrubs… That blue colour just… mmmmm…”

John finishes his shower not long after, wrapping his grey towel around his hip and tying it up to stay still. Then, he collects his 2-in-1 bottle from its perch atop the metal piping of the shower and starts making his way back.

That’s when he hears it:

“It’s no wonder the Captain’s peacockin’ himself around like that… I mean have you seen the size of her tits?”

John’s blood runs cold. They wouldn’t fucking dare. They wouldn’t talk about Kathleen. 

No. 

Not they. 

Him.

Sergeant Ellis Evans. 

One he’s always had problems reining in.

“Captain’s lucky is all I’ll say… Body like hers… Hell, even I’d forgive that bloody attitude of hers.”

The others laughed as Evans continued.

“I mean, I’m sure Kathleen’s mouth’s good for more than just talking… Gotta be good on her knees.. They call her ‘Brass’ for a reason, right? Bet she leaves ‘em with a nice polish and shine once she’s done.” 

That did it.

John rounded the corner into the locker room and, abruptly, the room fell into silence, breaths hitching and the temperature dropping into an uncomfortable ice.

But John didn’t stop walking at the doorway… In fact, he beelined right for Evans.

“Captain, I-” Evans immediately tried backtracking. “We were just joking, we were just-”

“Keep my wife’s name out your bloody mouth.” John grits at him through clenched teeth before he throws a right cross to Evans’ face.

-

It’s just past 7P.M. when Kathleen comes in through the front door. John has made dinner for them and little Charlotte is already asleep in her crib by the time she does.

She sets her bag down in the entrance, takes off her shoes, and pads over to the kitchen in search of John.

“Hi…” She greets him softly as she approaches the table, causing him to swivel on his chair to greet her, wrapping his arms around her waist. 

She presses a kiss to his mouth, which he returns. “Hi, Da’lin’.” He murmurs to her once they separate.

“Is she down?” She asks in a soft tone as she looks at him.

“Mhm… Full belly and empty diaper.” He tells her, which makes her smile softly, seeming relieved.

Kathleen feels exhausted, as usual, still not used to the work-life balance that comes from having a 4-month-old baby who doesn’t like to sleep + and a physically demanding job that runs on a 12-hour-shift schedule. 

John swivels back to his previous position, nursing a glass of whiskey with his left hand, the right one resting on the table, the knuckles covered by a blue gel ice pack.

“So that’s what happened...” Kathleen muses as she glances at his iced hand, before backing away to grab herself a plate of food from the cupboard.

“What is?” John murmurs as he glances at her, watching her serve herself of some frozen lasagna and salad.

“One of your lads ended up in my emergency room after some ‘roughhousing gone wrong in the locker room’... I was musing about what he did all afternoon.” She quips as she pads over to the table again again.

“Hm.” John mutters quietly, seemingly a mix of embarassed and annoyed at that fact.

“So what did he do?” She asks as she takes a seat on his lap, perched on his lap, as she pops a cherry tomato in her mouth.

“Talked about you.” John murmurs, wrapping his free arm around her waist. “Only I get to say debauching things about My Wife.” He grumbles as he looks up into her eyes.

Kathleen rolls her eyes at him and shakes her head, but she can’t help the smirk that takes over her rudy lips as he calls her ‘his wife’. “My, Mr. Price, defending my honour, huh?” She jokes as she pops a bit of lettuce in her mouth.

“Defending my honour… and yours by proxy. Just an unforeseen consequence of it.” He tells her, trying to act nonchalant about the fact he broke a man’s nose, eyesocket and three of his ribs, for demeaning his wife.

“Right… Of course… How stupid of me…” Kathleen teases as she leans toward him, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, which makes his blue eyes close, a smile taking over his features. 

“As opposed to… what exactly? There isn’t much up there other than thoughts of my cock, da’lin’.” John remarks, causing her to roll her eyes, annoyed, and flick his head away from her by pushing his cheek, annoyed.

“I can very well just stop thinking about it all together… And I’m sure you wouldn’t want that when I was just about to reward you for defending me…” Kathleen teases as she pops another cherry tomato in her mouth, eyes locked on John and the way his pupils dilated, his cock already stirring awake in his joggers against her ass in her green scrubs.

[tokkias]

tell me you loved me from the start ship: natsu dragneel x lucy heartfilia summary: There's nothing that can get between a friendship as strong as Natsu and Lucy's—or at least, that's what they'd like to think. Sometimes feelings are a little too complicated for it to be smooth sailing when you're feeling them towards your best friend. Lucy finds that one out the hard way. ao3

Lucy had always been good at keeping secrets. Many a friend or guildmate had confided in her before, and as such, she had gained plenty of dirt that she was sure the guild’s gossips would kill for, by virtue of being able to keep her mouth shut. She was, for the most part, an open book. There were a few things she felt the need to keep close to her chest, which would have been difficult to achieve in the first place considering just how nosy her best friend was.

Given their frequent close proximity, Lucy couldn’t keep a secret from Natsu, even if she wanted to. He knew everything about her, and she, in turn, knew everything about him. She trusted him, so there was no reason to keep secrets. They both spoke candidly to each other about their lives and their feelings, each seeing no reason to keep things from the other.

For the most part, anyway.

It was just one, teensy, tiny little secret, something she was sure would go away at first. She had expected it to pass quickly; what she had not expected was for her little, baby crush on him to spiral out of control into a full-blown yearning for her partner that consumed her entire being to the point where he was always on her mind at any given time.

Part of her felt guilty for keeping it from him, though the other reasoned that she was sure Natsu felt similarly on some things. Romance was never the type of thing they spoke about; he didn’t ask and she didn’t tell, but that was before her thoughts of romance involved him.

A brief period of contemplation had passed in which she thought about letting him know, but the realistic part of her brain reminded her of the irreparable damage that could be done to their relationship. She liked what they had too much to throw it away over anything. Instead, she resigned herself to the fact that Natsu would never know.

It wasn’t the most well-kept secret: Levy knew about it, as did Erza, Mira, and Wendy; even Gray had been in on it too, but Natsu still remained none the wiser. It was nice being able to confide in others when she couldn’t with Natsu, but it felt wrong to keep secrets from him.

It had been about a year or so since her feelings had become too big to contain, and she had let it slip to Levy, and somehow it had become an open secret to everyone but Natsu. Perhaps it was out of pity, for fear of watching their sweet angel Lucy be rejected by a dense and romance-averse Natsu, but whatever the reason, everyone was sure to keep tight-lipped around him.

That’s what made it all the worse when it was Lucy who accidentally managed to let part of the secret slip.

Lucy rested her chin in the heel of her hands, her elbows balanced on the table below her where she sat in defeat, her gaze not even focused on Levy before her as she expressed her woes.

"I just wish he’d look at me, you know?" She sighed, resisting the urge to flop down onto the table in defeat. "I want him to say I’m pretty, or something, but it’s like he doesn’t even see me as a woman."

"Who doesn’t see you as a woman?" Came the voice of the man in question as he slid into the seat next to her, and Lucy immediately froze.

"Oooooooooohhh~ Lucy’s got boy problems," Happy chimed in with his sing-song teasing.

The two of them had been out on a solo job for a few days and hadn’t been expected back until tomorrow. Had she known there was a possibility that they would come to the guild hall today, Lucy would have kept her stupid mouth shut. Now, all she could do was gape like a goddamned moron as she sat paralysed in fear that she had just let it slip.

"Soooooo~ Who’s the lucky fella?" Happy sang, clearly trying to worm his way into information that could be used against her down the line.

"Yeah, I wanna know too," Natsu added, his tone and gaze much more serious than Happy’s.

Lucy looked over to Levy in a plea for help, but it seemed as though she had slunk away in the moments since Natsu’s arrival, leaving her to deal with this one on her own.

"How was the job? Did you do any cool stuff? Eat any good food?" She asked in a desperate hope of diverting the conversation.

"The job was fine, I kicked some ass and Happy ate so much fish afterwards that he passed out," Natsu replied in quick succession, seeing right through her. "Who is this guy you’ve got a crush on?"

"Crush? Who said anything about a crush?" She sputtered, trying to maintain her composure.

It wasn’t technically a lie. What she had going on was far beyond a crush.

"You did, just now," he said bluntly. "You said you wish he’d call you pretty. You only say that mushy stuff about guys you wanna date."

Lucy paused for a moment, surprised by how adamant he was about this. She’d assumed that getting him to talk about his job, all the cool things he did, all the bad guys he’d fought, and all the food he’d eaten along the way would be enough to divert his attention, but he was stuck on the one thing she did not want to talk about with him.

"Come on, I promise I won’t tell anyone," he whined through her silence.

That’s ironic , she thought to herself.

"No," was all she managed to get out without incriminating herself.

"Why not?"

"Because I don’t want to."

"What if I say please?"

"The answer is still no."

"Pretty please?"

The two of them continued to run in circles, neither willing to be the first to break, but knowing just how stubborn Natsu could be, Lucy was beginning ware down, only, not in the way he might have hoped.

"I’m not going to tell you, Natsu, so just drop it, okay?" She finally said, unwilling to let this go on any longer than it needed to.

"Why not?" He repeated.

"Can we not do this?" Lucy sighed. "Please?"

"Why?"

He sounded like a broken record at this point, and figuring that she was not going to win their little game, Lucy simply didn’t reply. Natsu, on the other hand, was not satisfied with this response.

"Tell me," he said.

Lucy stood her ground.

"Tell me, tell me, tell me, tell me, tell me, tell me, tell me, tell me," he began to repeat, over and over again, until the words began to blur together and Lucy simply could not take it anymore.

Grabbing her bag and throwing it over her shoulder, Lucy stood up to take her leave.

"I’m going home," she declared. "Go bother someone else."

She half-expected him to follow behind and continue his nagging, but it seemed her foul mood had done enough to have her off the hook for now.

By the time her rent was due once more and it was time for them to take on a new job, Lucy had hoped that Natsu had dropped the subject. She had hoped that in the time between when she last saw him and now, he had found a new subject to fixate on. That was decidedly not the case.

Suddenly, she regretted agreeing to walk the scenic route.

"Have you changed your mind yet?"

"No, Natsu, I have not changed my mind," Lucy sighed, arms folded across her chest as they walked. "I’m not going to tell you."

"Come oooonnnnnn," Natsu drawled. "If you tell me, I’ll be your best friend."

Lucy quirked an eyebrow.

"I already am your best friend."

"Nuh-uh," he refuted. "Happy’s my best friend."

"Aye!" Happy butted in, much to Lucy’s chagrin.

"But if you tell us who you like, I’ll let you be my new best friend."

"Hey!" Happy added, clearly not pleased to have the position of Natsu’s best friend being used as a bargaining chip.

Lucy looked over at him to ensure he saw just how unimpressed she looked with his deal.

"You’re not very good at this whole bribery thing, are you?"

Deflating at her reply, Natsu’s shoulders slumped forward and he stuck his lips out in a pout, apparently having thought that worming his way into Lucy’s secret would be much easier than it actually was.

"Please?" He tried rather pathetically this time.

"Still no."

"Will you tell me?" Happy chimed in.

"Absolutely not."

"What if I promise not to tell Natsu?"

"Wh- Hey! That’s no fair!" Natsu cried out.

"That’s a lie, and you know it," Lucy said.

Happy responded with a sheepish look that told her that she was right on the money. That damn cat would backstab her for the promise of fish any day.

"What if I annoy you into telling us?" Natsu suggested, and Lucy grimaced at the idea.

Being annoying was certainly high on the list of things that those two were good at, and anyone not as strong as her may have caved right at that moment, but Lucy remained strong.

"Tell us! Tell us! Tell us!" Happy began to chant, with the background vocals of Natsu’s "pleaaaassssssseeeeeee," ringing in the back.

Pressing her hands over her ears in some attempt to block the noise out, Lucy had never regretted not taking the train more than now.

The thud of Natsu’s pack hitting the floor was louder than usual as he let out his frustration on the poor thing. Though he had been all smiles just before, Happy was quick to notice the way his mood had soured into an almost sombre state the moment Lucy was no longer around, and he thought he had an inkling as to why.

"Are you sad because Lucy won’t tell you who she likes?"

"No," Natsu shrugged, brows furrowed as if he were deep in the dregs of thought—something Happy rarely saw on his face. "Maybe, I guess."

Natsu let out a hefty sigh, though the expression on his face remained inscrutable, even to Happy.

"I just-" He stopped, his brain unable to keep up with the words he was saying. "You know."

He didn’t have to elaborate. He did know.

Though Natsu was never really one to talk about his feelings too much, he’d confided in Happy on many occasions about his little Lucy problem. Though some liked to think of him as dumb, dense, and unaware, Happy knew better than that. He knew that Natsu had his complicated feelings and emotions just like anyone else; he just kept them closer to his chest and played things off like they didn’t affect him at all. In quiet moments like this, however, Happy caught a glimpse into what was really going on in that brain of his.

"Why are you doing this if it’s just going to hurt your feelings knowing that she likes someone else?" Happy asked, trying his best to be empathetic to his situation.

Natsu was quiet for a moment as he mulled the question over in his mind. Happy knew there wasn’t really an answer—not a rational one, anyway. Anything beyond admitting that this was just some unusual form of self-inflicted pain would be nothing short of a blatant lie.

"‘Cause I need to make sure they’re good enough for her," is what he settled on.

It sounded reasonable enough. If Happy didn’t know better, he might have almost believed him.

Almost.

"I can’t let Lucy date some loser who doesn’t call her pretty," Natsu huffed. "What kinda best friend would I be if I did that?"

Happy didn’t reply, instead letting him try to justify himself, though perhaps more to convince himself than Happy. He didn’t feel the need to probe further—he’d simply deny any accusations he made because Natsu was stubborn like that. If he wanted to figure out his Lucy troubles, he’d simply have to do it in his own time.

When Natsu hadn’t brought it up again the next time they were together, Lucy had thought she was safe. Little did she know, he had simply lulled her into a false sense of security that remained throughout lunch and all the way back to her apartment.

That was until the moment her apartment door clicked shut, and as if treating her secret as a reward for him to receive for not bringing it up all day, Natsu asked, "are you going to tell me who you like now?"

Lucy crossed her arms and let out a huff. He sounded like a damn high schooler, pestering her over some stupid crush, unable or unwilling to let it go. She didn’t even know why he cared so much, but she was certain that she cared more about keeping her secret than he did about knowing it, so instead of responding, she just shot him back a deeply unimpressed look.

Her lack of response did not deter Natsu, who, in the time between first bugging her about it and now, had come up with a new strategy.

"Is it Gray?" He asked, narrowing his eyes. "‘Cause he’s not good enough for you. You could do better than him."

"It’s not Gray," she dryly replied.

"Laxus?" He probed.

"No."

"Elfman? Gajeel?"

"No."

"Is it Bixlow?"

Realising he wasn’t going to stop any time soon, Lucy just gave him a blank stare, but he remained undeterred. He continued to list people until she was certain that he had named every single man in the guild, no matter how appropriate.

"Are you done?" She asked, fingertips pressing into her temples, thoroughly over whatever little game Natsu was playing.

The only solace she got from this situation was Happy’s silence. He had been quiet from the moment Natsu started nagging her—almost suspiciously so. Any other time, the cat might have jumped at the chance to annoy her until smoke was pouring out of her ears, but he hadn’t said a word. Supposing she shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth, Lucy was willing to take whatever small victories she could get in the wake of Natsu’s inability to just leave her alone.

"Was it any of those guys?" He asked.

"No."

"So he’s not part of the guild?"

Lucy stayed silent at his question. If Natsu was going to run around in circles, she would let him, but she wasn’t about to lie to his face. She was simply ready to wait until he would tire himself out and get bored of her lacklustre answers, but it seemed he didn’t have plans to stop any time soon.

"Is he from another guild? Sabretooth? Is it Sting? Rouge?"

With a groan, Lucy flopped down onto her bed, which Natsu seemed to take as a no.

"It’s not Jellal, is it?"

"No, I’m not interested in being shanked by Erza," she replied in earnest.

"Yeah, that’s probably for the best," he mused.

After a moment of quiet contemplation, Natsu spoke up again.

"Was it that guy from the library?"

"Why?" Lucy finally responded, thoroughly sick of this game.

"Why what?"

"Why do you want to know?" She asked, irritation seeping into her voice.

"‘Cause I’m your friend, and friends tell each other stuff like this," he justified.

Lucy scoffed at his almost humorous answer.

Yes, of course they were friends—they were best friends, but this, whatever it was, was not something they did. They didn’t talk about crushes or romance because Natsu never showed any interest in it until now.

But even if she wanted to, she couldn’t, because telling Natsu that every time she read a romance novel, she imagined the love interest as him, would completely and irrevocably ruin their relationship. Lucy liked what they had too much to change that, no matter how much her heart ached knowing that what she wanted with him was always just a little far out of her grasp.

"I’m not to tell you, okay?" She huffed.

"Why not?" Natsu hit back, seemingly growing frustrated at this trivial impasse that they had found themselves at.

"Because I don’t want to."

"But I’m your friend."

"I know you’re my friend, but I don’t-" Lucy paused to let her mind catch up with her mouth before she said something she might regret.

She didn’t want to argue with Natsu. She knew that he didn’t want to argue with her either, but it just seemed like this was something that they wouldn’t be able to compromise on.

"Look," she sighed. "I’m not going to tell you, so you can either make peace with that or you can leave."

Her remark was met with an almost astonished silence. Perhaps he hadn’t expected her to put her foot down like that. Maybe he had just assumed that she would eventually cave to his pleas. Whatever it was that was going through his head, Lucy couldn’t exactly see it on his face, so they simply sat in silence as she awaited his reply.

It didn’t come the way she had hoped.

Instead, he turned on his heel and headed for the door.

"Come on, Happy."

All Lucy could do was stare and gape as he left without another word, Happy shooting her an apologetic look before following his friend out the door.

She knew she had given him an ultimatum, but she didn’t think that was the option he was going to choose. It all felt so childish to her, leaving over a silly little crush. That had always been her fear, but she had never thought it would happen before she got the nerve to tell him.

It had her heart aching in her chest and tears pricking in the corner of her eyes, and all she could do was let her pillow soak up her sorrows.

The silence on the way home from Lucy’s apartment was uncomfortable. Happy could practically hear the way that Natsu seethed and sulked as they walked the ever-familiar path back to the cottage in the woods. Happy never really minded the silence between them, but this time was different. This time, Natsu was hurting, and Happy didn’t have the words to make it better.

"I don’t get it," Natsu said, finally breaking the silence. "Why won’t she tell me? Is it someone we don’t know? I named everyone."

Perhaps the worst part of this was watching this all fly over Natsu’s head.

There’d always been an inkling in the back of Happy’s mind about the way Lucy felt. He’d always wondered if Lucy saw Natsu as a little bit more than a friend, but over time he had simply put that down to Lucy being weird. Now, though, after Natsu’s interrogation and Lucy’s little scene, the pieces were beginning to fall into place.

Happy knew better than anyone that Natsu was not dumb. A little dense, maybe, sure, but never stupid, so the fact that he couldn’t see what was happening right in front of him had Happy scratching his head.

"Well, you didn’t name everyone," he curtly replied.

Natsu was quiet again for a moment, contemplative, before he spoke up again.

"You think it’s Alzack?" He asked, evident confusion tainting his voice, so genuine that Happy wanted to throttle him right then and there. "‘Cause I don’t think Lucy would stoop that low."

"I don’t think it’s Alzack," Happy shot back, trying to keep a straight face.

For as much prank potential as there was in spilling Lucy’s blatantly obvious secret, it also had the potential of her never speaking to either of them again out of sheer anger and mortification. So in the name of maintaining their friendship, Happy kept his mouth shut.

"Who do you think it is?" Natsu said, glancing in Happy’s direction.

Happy looked at him for a moment before responding. There was genuine intrigue in his friends’ eyes, perhaps a hint of desperation. Happy had to break their eye contact and look forward to the path before them before guilt started to eat him whole.

"I don’t know," he lied, earning a defeated sigh from Natsu beside him.

It certainly didn’t feel good lying to his best friend like that, but even Happy knew it wasn’t his place to meddle in their relationship. At best, it was disingenuous; at worst, he was wrong and getting his hopes up for nothing. He simply had to have faith that Natsu would put things together himself. If he was going to continue to sulk the way he was, Happy could only hope that he figured things out quickly.

When Natsu had stormed out of her apartment without a word, Lucy had hoped that he simply needed some time to himself. He could be a temperamental sort of guy, but sometimes all he needed was a little bit of time to blow off some steam before he was back to his usual self.

Unfortunately, this time, it seemed he needed a little more than that.

It had been a week.

A whole week since she had seen Natsu, much less spoken to him. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that he had been deliberately avoiding her, and that fact was beginning to piss her off.

The last thing Lucy had wanted was for her feelings for Natsu to cause a rift in their relationship, but it seemed as though she had no choice in the matter. Either she told him and things would grow weird between them, or she kept her secret and he would continue to resent her.

Damned if she did, damned if she didn’t.

In the week since he had walked out on her, Lucy had done a lot of thinking between all the tears.

Would it really be that bad if he knew? Surely their friendship was strong enough to withstand the fallout from it. Though, the longer Natsu avoided her over it, the more uncertain she became.

But maybe he deserved to know. Maybe it wasn’t right to keep a secret so heavily involving him. Maybe he would understand, and if they just talked about it, they would come to an understanding and maintain the easy friendship they had.

Maybe she should have thought more about what exactly it was that she wanted to say to him before she had come all the way out to his little cottage in the woods.

She hadn’t really thought about why she was coming out here or what she wanted to say. There was an equal chance that she was going to chew him out or that she was going to burst into tears the moment she saw him. She was so angry at him for letting this get in the way of their friendship, but more than that, she missed him. She missed hearing his laughter from across the guild hall, she missed taking jobs with him. She missed his teasing, his warmth, his comfort. She missed the way he’d crawl into her sheets at night and pretend to be asleep, so she couldn’t kick him out, not knowing that these days she’d never make him leave. Just thinking about it was enough to make the tears almost breach, but as she bit down on her lip, she maintained her composure and rapped her fist against the front door.

Every semblance of composure left her once the door opened and she caught a glimpse of Natsu on the other side, looking at her like a deer in headlights, as if her mere presence had struck the fear of god into his heart.

In that moment, she was overwhelmed with so many emotions—relief, joy, sadness, absolute seething fury.

It seemed that last one was the one that took over when Lucy finally opened her mouth.

"What the hell is wrong with you!"

Part of her was expecting Natsu to slam the door in her face, but all he could do was stand there and gape as she yelled at him.

"You are so stupid! You storm out on me, and then you not only don’t speak to me, but you don’t even show your face at the guild? You dumb, stupid idiot!"

Her expression didn’t match her harsh words as her lip began to quiver, all the emotions of the past week coming crashing down on her as she spoke.

"You idiot, you don’t know—hic—you don’t even know how lonely I’ve been…"

With that, the dam burst, and she was in full tears, sobbing and wailing. She tried to step towards him but stumbled slightly, with Natsu catching her before she could fall. Feeling his touch once more only served to make her cry harder as she recalled how much she had missed it in their time apart.

With no words to make her feel better, Natsu simply wrapped his arms around her, holding her close as she cried.

"Please don’t cry…" He mumbled, resting his forehead on the crown of her head.

"I don’t understand!" Lucy wailed. "Why does- Why does who I like matter so much that you’re willing to hurt me over it?"

Natsu’s jaw clenched, and she could feel his grip on her tighten, as though her words had caused him physical pain.

"I don’t- That’s not what I-" He barely managed to stutter out, clearly struggling to find the words. "Lucy…"

Though her grief-stricken wails had subsided, Lucy continued to sob, gasping for breath between them as Natsu struggled for an answer. When the words didn’t seem to come to him, there was only one thing he could think to say.

"I’m sorry…"

Lucy could hear the remorse dripping from every syllable. Natsu rarely apologised, even rarer did he mean it. This time, he did.

He wasn’t apologising because he was made to; he wasn’t apologising because he felt he had to. He was genuinely remorseful for making her feel this way.

"I still don’t understand," Lucy murmured. "Why? I mean- I don’t- It’s so stupid…" She paused to suck in a breath and gather her thoughts. "You completely avoid me because I won’t tell you who I like? Why do you care so much?"

"I- I just-"

Natsu sputtered out the words, clearly unable to form a coherent answer to the question, almost as if he didn’t know himself.

Lucy looked up at him with glassy, pleading eyes. For the first time since she had shown up, she got a good look at him, too blinded by anger and tears to have caught a glimpse prior. He looked so terribly lost and guilty, his brain seemingly barely able to comprehend the speed in which this had all happened. She couldn’t quite find it in herself to blame him.

She had shown up out of the blue, chewed him out before bursting into tears in his arms. It certainly was not her finest moment, but keeping up appearances was the last thing on her mind. Natsu was her friend—her best friend. Not having him by her side was like some cruel, twisted torture, a reminder of days long past that she had hoped she would never have to relive. She never wanted to not be with him if she could at all help it, and if weeping in his arms was the best way to get that across, then so be it.

"I don’t want you to like some… stupid guy who’s gonna hurt you because he doesn’t think you’re pretty," he said, cobbling his words together with uncertainty as he spoke.

"You’re already hurting me!" Lucy blurted out, not taking a moment to think about what she was saying.

She hardly even registered what she had said until he was looking down at her in some gut-wrenching combination of horror and confusion. It was like her words hadn’t quite set in, but he got the gist of where she was coming from. It was like he knew how she felt but wasn’t sure how to feel about it himself, and the idea of that made her swallow thickly to push down the bile that threatened to rise.

He looked at her slack-jawed before he managed to sputter out, "me?"

With no backing out of this one, Lucy decided the only way she was getting out was through.

"Yes, you, stupid! Are you blind?"

Her insulting words didn’t seem to hit him as he simply stood, lost in his own thoughts for a moment before he finally spoke up again.

"Why didn’t you tell me?"

"Because… I like the way things are between us," she breathed. "I don’t want to change that because I like you. It would just… make things weird, and I don’t want to lose what we have."

Natsu furrowed his brows slightly.

"Why would it be weird?" He asked, his voice low and soft, but she wasn’t certain he meant it to be. "I don’t think that’s weird."

"It is! It’s always weird when someone likes someone else, but they don’t feel the same, and it’s just-"

"Who said I didn’t like you?" Natsu interrupted.

"I-"

Lucy stuttered around an answer, not truly knowing what to say. No one had said that. She’d simply assumed that there was no possible way that her feelings would be reciprocated because it was Natsu. Natsu, who had never shown romantic interest in anyone, let alone her. It was just an informed assumption based on years of friendship that she thought was just that—friendship. She had never considered the idea that he might feel the same way, and now it felt like everything she knew about him had been flipped on its head.

"I just didn’t think that you-"

Her breath hitched in the middle of her sentence as her mind began to race with the possibility of being loved back.

"Why’d you never ask me?"

Because I didn’t want you to reject me. Because I couldn’t handle seeing your face as you tried to let me down easy. Because I knew that if I did, things would never be the same between us again.

There were so many answers to his question running through her head that she just couldn’t seem to figure out which one she wanted to hear.

"Because I wasn’t sure I was ready for the answer."

Natsu was quiet for a moment in response, and Lucy felt her heart sink to her stomach. He still hadn’t given her a real answer. For all she knew, she was simply getting her hopes up only to watch her friendship with Natsu come crumbling down.

In a small, dwindling moment of courage, Lucy squeaked out a soft, "do you?"

"Yeah," he breathed. "I do."

His words were a little shaky, but he said them with such conviction that Lucy couldn't do anything but believe them.

"And for the record, I think you're really pretty."

Those were the words that she had been waiting for him to say for all too long. She had dreamed of hearing it from him for longer than she could recall.

Suddenly, everything started to fall into place.

"Is that… Is that why you’ve been avoiding me all week?" She asked. "Because you were jealous?"

Well, it sounds bad when you put it that way…" He murmured.

"It sounds bad no matter what way you put it!" Lucy exclaimed.

So much of the pain and despair she had been feeling could have been foregone if he had just told her how he felt. She had never felt such joy and such frustration at the very same time, because, god, he felt the same way about her, but he had put her through such heartache over a little secret that it made her want to scream.

"I don’t know if I should be mad or if I should kiss you senseless."

She knew she couldn’t be mad, even if she tried. He was protecting his heart the same way she was protecting hers—she could never hold that against him. She’d be a hypocrite to pretend she was any better.

"Can you do the second one?" Natsu asked, drawing her back into the moment and away from her thoughts—and who was she to deny him?

With no reply, Lucy placed her hands on his shoulders and pressed her lips against his, sending them stumbling back into his home. He caught her by the hips, hands gripping tight, and Lucy hoped that he wouldn’t be letting go any time soon.

[callsign-bunnie]

Green. Gonna bump it up a notch? Continuation of Simon and Ghost being two very separate entities. Soap has to hide it from the rest of the Task Force that now the other entity really really wants another taste of Soap. Could happen at any time - on base, after a mission... (after a botched mission and Soap is hurt... not bad just a wee bit bloody)

Thank you very much! *backflips and disappears*

Oh hell yeah! This one is a continuation of this! And it's for Horror Night!

--

Soap had caught onto the whole Simon or Ghost thing easy. It was fairly easy to differentiate them. Simon had been the one he'd ran missions on, even if he still called him Ghost.

Ghost was the one who craved Soap. He was also the one who would occasionally come out and do horrific things when any one of the other three were in danger.

But only Soap knew about him. Simon had basically demanded he keep his mouth shut about it. And then... started to ignore him.

It really wasn't fair. Soap knew Simon also felt some sort of way towards him but he would ignore him. Treat him like he didn't even think of him as a friend. To Simon, Soap may as well be on a different unit.

Soap had considered trying to trigger Ghost out again, but he worried about the implications of that. It'd been hard enough to explain to Price while Ghost's clothes were ripped and Soap had bite marks everywhere.

Price likely did not believe him.

Having to do it again would not make their case any more believable.

But, Soap wanted it again. So badly. He needed it again. He would catch Simon staring at him, sometimes, and then he'd blink and red eyes would flick over his body before Simon would shake his head and rip his sight away.

Soap was frustrated. He slammed Simon into a wall, clearly surprising him, since Soap was 5'10 and Simon was 6'4. It would have probably been an odd sight. "You're being an asshole. I know you fucking want me, like Ghost wants me."

Simon sighed. "Johnny-"

"Fuck off. Don't call me that if you're gonna keep being an asshole." Soap glared at him and then backed up, storming off. He was sick of Simon.

-

Soap put his hands up, carefully. This mission had been a shitshow from the start. It was just him and Simon, Price thought it would help them learn to "work together again", and things had just started going wrong and didn't stop.

Now, they were both surrounded by several gunmen, who had their guns pointed directly at them.

Soap closed his eyes. They'd all been ordered to shoot to kill. So... he wasn't getting out of this without at least a bullet wound. He considered asking for his life, but... no, that wouldn't really work.

Soap glanced to Simon, who looked pissed. "Well, it was... fun." He tried to joke, hoping to lighten the situation a little.

Simon glared at him. But then... Soap saw his eyes flicker. Simon turned back to the gunmen, who seemed to be waiting. Soap wished they'd just get it over with, already. He was sick of waiting.

Simon glanced at him. They made the order, finally, and Soap jerked back as he was shot, but only once. He fell backwards, holding his shoulder where the bullet had hit.

Fuck.

Soap heard screaming come from the gunmen and more gunfire, but Soap knew enough to know he didn't exactly want to see what was going on. He dragged himself to his feet and went to try to leave, before stopping when all of the sound just. Stopped.

"Where are you, going, Johnny?"

Soap winced. "Well, I was trying not to get shot, more, so... away."

“I wouldn’t let you get hurt.” Ghost’s voice could reach him, easily, despite the distance.

Soap turned to him. “I know that, Simon-” He paused at the growling, trying not to show that he’d done that on purpose. He hesitated. He wanted to rile him up. “I knew you had it handled, Simon. I just... didn’t want to get shot again. It’s not fun.”

Ghost narrowed his eyes at him. “I don’t know what game you’re playing, Johnny... But I don’t think you want to lose it.”

“I’m not playing any games, Simon.” Soap shrugged, knowing he was in fact playing a game. 

“You know fully fucking well that I am not Simon.” Ghost stalked over to him, already changing. “He wouldn’t have been able to shred them to pieces like that.”

“Then who are you?” Soap played stupid. He looked up at Ghost, trying to keep himself from blushing dark red at the sight of him. Already, he found himself wanting nothing more than for Ghost to fuck him, rough and hard. 

“Johnny.” Ghost warned and stopped in front of him. He looked down at him, intense. 

Soap hesitated. He gave in, almost immediately. “I’m sorry...” He winced and looked away.

“Better.” Ghost touched his face and made him look at him. “You’ve been so neglected... I suppose I can’t fault you for being upset about it... But, I’m here now.”

Soap relaxed into his touch, loving the feeling of his cold fingers on his warm face. Ghost’s hand moved down to his shoulder, touching the wound, and making Soap wince. “I wish I had made them suffer more.” Ghost shook his head, tsking.

Soap flushed and looked up at him, frowning. Was Ghost concerned about him? He went to ask, but didn’t get the chance. Ghost was suddenly behind him, reaching around his front and shredding Soap’s shirt off of him. Soap gasped in surprise. “Wha-”

Claws dragged down his skin and Soap shivered, backing up into Ghost. Ghost put his hand on Soap’s throat and gently pushed his head back, leaning down and kissing him.

Soap melted, as usual, as the world went hazy. He looked up at Ghost, smiling a little. Ghost pat his face before suddenly his claws were digging into Soap’s bullet wound. Soap’s knees went weak with pleasure and he cried out, trying to stay upright.

Blood dripped down his shoulder and Ghost pulled the bullet out, flicking it to the side. Ghost leaned down, having to crane his body in an almost impossible way, but of course it wasn’t for him. Soap looked away, not wanting to watch it, even with whatever Ghost does to him.

Ghost licked over the wound and Soap moaned again, leaning his head back. When he was done, Soap flushed, realizing the bullet wound was gone. There wasn’t even a scar. “You... You could have done that last time??? I’m walking around with a permanent bite scar and you could have just... gotten rid of it?”

“I wanted it to stay.” Ghost shrugged. “You’re mine.”

Soap flushed. Okay, he liked the idea of that, but... still. It’d been a pain in the ass to explain that to Price. He went to argue with Ghost, before Ghost was kissing him deeply again, thrusting his tongue practically down Soap’s throat.

The haze thickened and Soap moaned. Ghost grabbed his waist and pulled away. Soap’s mind felt fuzzy and everything felt nice. 

Ghost smiled. “Finish undressing, Johnny.”

Soap went to turn around to face him, but Ghost stopped him. Soap frowned but did as told, pulling his clothes off. “What are-” He was stopped by Ghost shoving him down to his knees.

Ghost moved around for a bit before he was behind Soap again, pushing him down a little. “Look at my handiwork...” He purred into Soap’s ear, turning Soap’s head so he had to stare at the torn and mangled dead bodies. 

Soap cringed. He had been trying to avoid looking at them. “That was all for you... Because they hurt you... And I’m going to do that to anyone else who hurts you...” Ghost’s hand reached around and wrapped around Soap’s cock, stroking it to hardness.

Soap moaned and leaned his head back. He whined when Ghost’s hand let him go and then Ghost was shoving him down and pulling his hips up. Soap braced himself as fast as he could before Ghost was three fingers in him and Soap’s body exploded with pleasure.

Fuck, he didn’t know what Ghost’s saliva fully did but it was fucking destroying Soap. Soap moaned and arched his back, grasping at the dirt. Ghost chuckled and fucked him with his fingers. The pleasure was intense and Soap moaned loudly, pushing back on Ghost’s fingers.

Ghost leaned down and wrapped his arm around Soap’s shoulder, biting the back of it. Soap cried out and threw his head back, almost hitting Ghost’s. Ghost shoved his fingers deep in him and Soap moaned his name, loudly.

That seemed to set Ghost off because he was immediately pulling his fingers out and shoving his cock in. Soap trembled from the pleasure it caused, hitting at the dirt and screaming. 

“God, I want to take you apart, sometimes. I want to fucking ruin your body with nothing but my cock and listen to you scream and beg me for more.” Ghost growled into Soap’s ear.

Soap gasped at his words, moving his arm so he could hit his head against it. Ghost didn’t show him any mercy, just started to fuck into Soap, ignoring his thrashing and screaming with pleasure.

Soap felt like he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think from pleasure. All that was in his brain was Ghost and Ghost’s cock, slamming into him. He hit at the ground to alleviate some of it, but it barely helped.

He screamed as he came without warning, but Ghost didn’t stop. He kept going until he was painting Soap’s insides white, slamming his hand on the ground beside Soap’s head. 

Soap panted as he came down and the thoughts finally came back. He whimpered as Ghost pulled out and then panted, relaxing. “You succeeded...”

“I know.” Ghost chuckled, sounding amused. He ran his nails down his back, chuckling at the way Soap groaned and writhed from it. “Hmm... how are you going to explain your torn shirt to Price?”

“Asshole.”

[shootingstarpilot]

Thank you all SO MUCH for the lovely prompts!

Lucky us, AO3 has returned (join me in raising a toast to that most excellent team of volunteers), so most of your prompts will be saved for a rainy day or to hammer away at writer's block the next time such a weapon is necessary--

But.

One of those prompts lodged itself in my brain. So you get this. Thanks very much, @153-centimeters-of-sass, you evil, evil bastard <3

The prompt in question:

Needle or Stitch gets stuck in a time loop, reliving a Bad Day over and over.

(PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS IN THE TAGS.)

Shockingly enough, the Sith temple itself had been surprisingly easy to navigate.

No traps. No ghosts. No vision-induced fainting spells.

Obi-Wan ducks into the (comparative) warmth of the command tent. None of the men have shucked their coats-- it's still Abregado, still well below freezing-- but at least the risk of frostbite is reduced.

Slightly.

They'd recovered the bled kyber crystal easily enough. No pedestal, no case, no honor for it-- they'd found it simply discarded in the corner of a hallway, cracked and bleeding and screaming so loudly that Obi-Wan had known immediately that this is what had called to the Jedi loudly enough that a whole battalion had been sent to investigate.

Gods. Even now, shields raised as high as he can manage, he can feel the tidal wave of its pain battering at him. He spares a thought to be grateful that none of the men are Force-sensitive. To be exposed to something like that-- with no shielding--

Its power is immense, and it is in agony.

That sort of pain doesn't tend to care if it spreads or not.

This is what they are here to discuss now-- how best to contain it, until it can be safely remanded to the Temple for an attempted healing. They may need to break it fully-- kill it, dull it, put it out of its misery, but that is a cruel death and one that no Jedi would wish on a kyber.

Obi-Wan peels off his goggles, nods at Cody, opens his mouth--

And pivots immediately when he senses the bloody smear approaching.

Like a trail of blood left behind after a dragged body, in the Force-- only an echo of life, a memory of it, but somehow still moving-- he lunges at the entrance, tears open the flap-- not knowing what he expects, who he expects--

But he knows he was not expecting Needle.

Needle, who's in his blacks and nothing else-- the blood trickling from his nose freezing to his face in the same instant, bare hands scraped raw from the wind, the skin on his face dry and cracked, and for a moment Obi-Wan can do nothing but stare, because-- he'd seen Needle, just yesterday, whole and firework-bright, what had happened--?

"Sir?" Needle says blearily. He blinks, and Obi-Wan realizes with a slow sort of horror that the tears have nearly frozen his eyes shut. "You need to kill it, sir."

"Kill it--?"

"It's hurting, sir. It's hurting, and it keeps dragging me with it."

The second morning, Needle thinks it's just a nightmare.

He's never had a nightmare before. Any dream at all, really. He guesses it was something during the reconditioning. Something broke. Crossed wires, maybe. He's never mourned it, though, not really, because-- the way Stitch and Helix react, sometimes, the silent tears, the not-so-silent whispered confessions, of warped memories that seem almost foolish in waking--

Needle does what he can. And what he can do is be awake when they wake up shaking, so he can sit with them and remind them of what's real.

He learns their patterns, and stays awake, and doesn't envy them much at all.

He'll take what respite he can get.

And in the morning-- in the morning, when he blinks at the ceiling and promptly vomits over the side of the bed--

He thinks, at first, that his luck has run out at last.

Hands squeeze his shoulders, and he looks up, gasping for breath, ragged inhales, because Helix was--

Here.

In front of him.

Hale and whole.

Alive.

"Nightmare?"

Needle stares at him.

How--?

A gentle shake.

"Needle."

"I-- guess so."

It must have been. It must have been, then, because Helix is here, cupping the back of his neck, gentle and warm and grounding, and not on the ground with gray matter splattered out behind him--

Little fucking gods. Is this what they meet every night?

No wonder he has to keep cleaning the bucket.

"Can you eat?" Helix-- HelixHelixHelix-- asks. "We're heading out in half an hour."

He nods.

He can't stop staring.

A warm bowl of oatmeal is pushed into his hands..

"Eat," Helix orders. "You need it."

Needle picks up the spoon.

Something roils in the pit of his stomach.

"Helix?"

Helix pauses, looks back at him--

"Are you-- feeling okay?"

His expression softens.

"I'm fine, sweetheart," he says, and wow, Needle must look really bad--

He nods, wordless, and spoons some oatmeal into his mouth.

It tastes like ash.

He absentmindedly plucks a fly from the top of the bowl.

Funny. He remembers that, too-- from the dream.

Odd.

Later, he yanks Helix down, out of the way of the blaster bolt that had punched through his helmet in what Needle is coming to suspect might not have been entirely a nightmare--

Right before the ice cracks under him.

Helix doesn't even have a chance to scream.

Later.

In the medtent.

Stitch, tucked under his arm.

Dry throat. Burning eyes.

(Helix is--)

"It was only a nightmare," he says, to the empty room. As if the words themselves can do something-- can be something-- can be, in the end, only a nightmare indeed-- as if by saying it, he can go to sleep and wake up and Helix will be--

(Helix is--)

He presses his cheek to the top of Stitch's head.

All hollowed out.

(Helix is--)

"It was only a nightmare."

He wakes up.

There's a fly in his oatmeal.

It was only a nightmare.

Helix vanishes under a rockfall.

(Needle is not a stupid man.)

He wakes up.

There's a fly in his oatmeal.

He signs up with a different squad.

A pale-faced Obi-Wan comes to deliver the news himself.

He wakes up.

There's a fly in his oatmeal.

He sneaks laxatives into Helix's breakfast to keep him off the field.

The cliff gives way under Stitch's feet, and Needle is too slow to grab him.

He has time to scream.

He doesn't.

Needle watches him fall, small and silent, and thinks he can hear the impact.

He wakes up.

There's a fly in his oatmeal.

This time, he gets dragged under with Helix, and has to watch his brother bleed out.

Half-conscious. Smiling at him.

"N'dle."

He wakes up.

There's a fly in his oatmeal.

He walks into the 'fresher and shoots himself in the head.

He wakes up.

There's a fly in his oatmeal.

It's him and Stitch who get trapped, this time.

Stitch does not smile at him.

Stitch is deeply, deeply afraid.

Stitch is gurgling around the blood in his throat, around the branch that's lodged itself in his chest-- Stitch is reaching for him and Needle reaches back only to realize that Stitch wasn't reaching for him at all, he was reaching for his blaster--

Blood-stained lips move--

"Please--"

Needle cradles the back of his head.

"It won't stick," he promises. "It won't."

A choking noise--

"Please--"

Needle obliges.

In the second after, he realizes that was his last shot.

He slumps backwards, against the rock, and waits for the hypothermia to get him.

After a moment, he picks up the corpse's hand, cradling it.

It takes some time for his vision to go dark.

He wakes up.

There's a fly in his oatmeal.

He blinks at it.

"You hurt Stitch," he says, very quietly. "You made him afraid."

He picks up the fly.

Very deliberately, he plucks its wings off before grinding it under his boot.

"Tell me who you are."

(He doesn't know how much more of himself he can afford to lose.)

(He doesn't know if there's anything left.)

The next four times, he doesn't bother to get out of bed before reaching for his blaster.

He wakes up.

There's a fly in his oatmeal.

There are so many ways to die in war.

He wakes up.

There's a fly in his oatmeal.

He thinks he will witness every single one.

He wakes up.

There's a fly in his oatmeal.

He is getting really fucking sick of oatmeal.

He wakes up.

There's a fly in his oatmeal.

This will not save them.

He wakes up.

There's a fly in his oatmeal.

He sets his blaster to the side.

He wakes up.

There's a fly in his oatmeal.

He goes hunting.

(Ghost had found something in the Temple.)

(They'd brought it back.)

(They'd had a meeting, in the morning, before Needle usually preferred to wake up.)

He wakes up.

There's a fly in his oatmeal.

He finds the case they'd put it in.

It's bleeding.

And he's a medic.

He sinks to his knees. Picks it up--

The call goes out.

He wakes up.

There's a fly in his oatmeal.

"How do I fix this?"

He wakes up.

There's a fly in his oatmeal.

"How do I fix you?"

He wakes up.

There's a fly in his oatmeal.

"Oh. You don't want fixing, do you?"

He wakes up.

He wakes up.

He wakes up.

He starts laughing, one morning.

He can't change his damn alarm, because it won't stick.

And he keeps missing the meeting.

And then they have to go to war.

And then they die.

Again.

He waits until Helix leaves the room to reach for his blaster.

Even knowing they won't remember-- he won't remember--

He still doesn't want them to see.

It takes a whole week for his body to finally get the message.

He's in his blacks and bare feet, when he wakes up, and it's still dark outside.

It's still dark outside.

A faint flicker of something that's still Needle deep inside him--

RUN--

He does.

(He picks up his blaster, first. Just in case.)

He finds the General.

The General looks at him like he's dying.

The General looks at him like he's already dead.

The General--

Nods.

Turns.

Movement around the box.

Movement around him.

"Did he kill it?" he asks.

He doesn't think he's heard anything but his own breathing for days and days and days.

He's lost count.

Someone says yes.

"Okay," he says, and raises his blaster.

Part 2 will be coming out tomorrow!

[jelzorz]

125.

Ezran is twelve so it's pretty reasonable that he doesn't get it. He's never been in love, or in a break up, or in a make up, and he'd watched Callum fall apart and try to put himself back together in the two years Rayla'd been gone but she's back now, and he thought...

Well he thought Callum would be happy to see her, at least. He thought Callum would be relieved that she's okay, and pleased that she'd come home, and maybe a little mad that she left the way she did, but not like this. Ezran's got his own issues to air out with her, but on the whole he's glad she's here. Callum, though?

Ez bites back a huff. They're fighting again, and it's getting old. They fight about the fire, about sleeping arrangements, about who takes first watch, about which direction they should go. It's driving him crazy because peace is becoming unbearably hard to maintain, and he's a king and even council meetings are easier than this.

Soren, apparently, thinks it's funny.

"It's nice to see him get mad sometimes," he says, which Ez doesn't get at all. "I think he needs it."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Soren hums thoughtfully, which is weird because Soren's never been particularly good at reading the room. Ez watches him poke at his dinner while Callum and Rayla are all but yelling at each other by the river before he spears a bit of fish and gestures vaguely at them with his fork. "They've just got some—what do you call it? Big Feelings?—that they need to sort through."

Ez wrinkles his nose. "We all have Big Feelings about it. Why can't they just talk?"

"Because it's not just Big Feelings for them," Soren answers. "It's other stuff too. Other... physical stuff."

Ez stares. Then he flushes. "You mean—"

"Things are different now," Soren says. "They're older. They have things they want, and things they missed out on because they weren't together these past couple of years. It's all just been pent up with nowhere to go, and now that Rayla's back..." Soren shrugs and turns back to his plate. "Wish they'd just go somewhere private and get it over with."

"Soren."

"What? You asked why they keep fighting."

Ez snaps his mouth shut, unsure if he's disgusted or mortified. Opeli's already given him that talk, thank you, and it wasn't any less uncomfortable then. He'd always known sex was a thing that people did, but the thought of his brother and Rayla being people that did it too—

He shudders and sets his plate down, his appetite well and truly gone.

Soren snorts. "Yeah, it's a weird thought, right? Try not to think too hard about it. They'll work it out."

"I didn't need that image though."

Soren barks out a laugh. "Listen," he says kindly. "As gross as it is, and as annoying as they are, it's nice to see Callum getting mad and flustered and ridiculous about something, don't you think? It's a good thing that he's letting himself have Big Feelings again. Better than watching him lock himself up in his study for days and pretending he's fine, anyway."

Ez glances at them, still arguing on the river bank, standing too close to each other but too far away, their faces flushed, their eyes darting to each other's lips. He still doesn't get it. Not really. But he sighs and supposes Soren's right.

[mwolf0epsilon]

The Umbaran Pathogen - Day 3: Separated from loved ones

Summary: Moments like these made him wish he wasn't such a goddamn freak.

Warning: N/A

Prev / Next

[In which the events on Umbara are worsened by an unknown pathogen taking hold of both the 501st and 212th. These series of drabbles will follow a non-linear timeline based on the AI-less Whumptober prompt list for 2023.]

THIS STORY IS ALSO ON AO3

---

To say there was an air of trepidation as they approached the shadowy planet of Umbara, was a complete overstatement. The atmosphere within the Negotiator was more than a little tense, to the point where an eerie silence seemed to permeate the air of the large Venator-Class Star Destroyer.

It was stiffing. Oppressive. But most of all, irritating.

Not that Peel was one to give in to irritation all that easily. Especially not since the fiasco that had been the mission to Bray. He'd had to learn to be more patient and cautious after that ordeal. And not without good reason...

Running his tongue over his unusually sharp canines, the vampiric trooper had to keep himself from sighing out loud as he noted the aftertaste of battery acid that stubbornly clung to his teeth enamel. Reminding him of things he really wished he could forget. Of his new nature as... This... Whatever this was.

Sure, Canivete had reassured him that his newly acquired habits and instincts weren't anything need fearing, since he'd figured out a pretty easy way to keep himself from succumbing to the urges that had been haunting him after he'd been "cured" of Lord Ravna's influence. But that didn't mean he had to like the way that the vile monster's taint had altered him.

Especially not when he had to preemptively feed himself as much charge as possible before every mission. It was doubtful he'd have a chance during their deployment on hostile planets, so he was often forced to stalk off and hide away in shame, as he sunk his teeth into every piece of machinery that Canivete had pilfered for him in silent solidarity. She was amazing like that. Never shying away from helping even the strangest of cases... Which he supposes came down to the fact she had a batcher who'd ended up in a much worse situation than Peel had.

That said, Canivete was a bit of a mother hen and tended to fuss a little too much when she thought he was neglecting his own needs. It wasn't like he wanted to stay awake late into the night, or that he didn't want to eat a nice tasty meal among their brethren... It's just that, sometimes, all the noise could be a little overwhelming.

Umbara would be overwhelming too... He just knew it. Especially after they'd gone through the rushed briefing. The lack of information they were working with put him and the rest of the vode ill at ease, which was what was causing so much tension all over the ship. What was making it so hard for him to shake off the pre-barricade-busting jitters.

Not even draining the mouse droid he'd managed to corner settled his frantically beating heart. He hoped the poor thing didn't hold it against him. The engineers would be able to easily fix it, but you never knew a droid's temperament until you crossed it.

"Peel." Startling at the sound of his own name, he turned around to see who'd called him. At the end of the hall he'd been pacing in, stood Cani in her medical fatigues. Her hair was down, which meant she'd just recently woken up and hadn't had the time to put it up yet in the way she liked.

Which itself meant she'd been looking for him since she'd woken up.

"Canivete." He greeted, flashing her a quick smile before subconsciously clamping his mouth shut so that his fangs didn't show too much. Even if she wasn't bothered by these bizarre attributes of his, he didn't particularly like showing his teeth to other vode. It made him feel weird. "Do you need something?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I do." She made her way over to him and ran a hand over her face, trying to shake off the lingering sleepiness from her eyes. "The Negotiator will be breaching the planetary barricade soon. According to the Commander, a couple of squads of pilots from the 212th and 501st each, will be keeping the Umbarans busy while the Generals and the rest of the men engage planet-side via LAATs."

"What are we working with down there? I know we don't have much in the way of intel..." He couldn't wait to get down on solid ground and get some of the nervous energy out of his system. The sooner they landed, the faster they could take Umbara and then go back to Coruscant.

"... That's what I wanted to talk about..." Canivete frowned, her gaze lowering guiltily onto the floor. "You're not going."

"What?" He stared at her, eyes going wide and jaw dropping slightly.

"I've noticed your vitals have been a little erratic as of late..." She explained "And I know you've been downplaying it too. You've been sleeping less and draining more energy than usual. Down there there's no way of telling if we'll be able to meet your requirements, and I don't want to risk a freakout in the middle of the field. Especially not if you start zeroing in on the General or his saber..."

"I... You had me written out of the mission?!" He didn't know what to say. He felt betrayed. "What the hell Canivete?!"

"I'm trying to protect you!" The medic snapped at him.

"I don't need protecting!" He barked back, furious that she'd go behind his back like this. "I'm not a ticking time bomb! I've been preparing for this! Been feeding regularly so I wouldn't have to worry down there!"

"We have no idea how long this might take! You can't possible tell me you think this will be a quick run... Not with how little we have on the enemy or their goddamn tech!"

Snarling, Peel turned away and began to pace again. On one hand, Canivete was right. This was definitely not striking him as an easy campaign and he didn't even know if all the preemptive feeding would maintain him for long. He'd been getting hungrier and hungrier recently. Something deep in him feeling like something big was coming... He wasn't sure what, but he had his suspicions.

And so did his worrywart sister.

If he ended up running on empty down on Umbara... He might become desperate enough to eat his brothers's blasters as a last resort. Or worse... Try to eat their Jedi. And if neither of those things happened? What would become of him? Would he collapse? Would he die? Neither of them knew for sure...

The point was that, by technicality, he was a liability and Canivete was right to request he stay on ship. It was the safer option.

But he didn't want to sit around while his brothers, sisters and siblings fought a bloody battle. He didn't want to be separated from them and be left wondering if any of them would come back safely. Something deep in his core told him they might not.

Not that he had a choice in the matter. Canivete had made sure of it.

"I'm sorry Peel. I really am... But as a medic I have to do what's right by my patients." Cani looked genuinely sorrowful. "And as a sister, I have to do what's right by my siblings... Even if I have to go behind their back to do it..."

"If you die down there, I'll never forgive you." He spat out coldly, uncaring if he hurt her feelings. "I won't say your name in my remembrances, you hear me?"

"...That's fair." He hated that she looked resigned to that. He wanted her to argue with him. Not accept whatever he told her in a fit of bitter anger. "Keep the ship safe Peel. I'll do my best to make sure everyone comes back in one piece..."

With that all said, the medic turned around and left. His words weighed heavier in his heart because she didn't look back. Peel was watching his vode, his loved ones, marching towards uncertainty and potential death. And he couldn't do anything about it. He felt helpless.

Moments like these made him wish he wasn't such a goddamn freak.

[baahsu]

"i think im going off on a tangent now" op PLEASE go off on a tangent!! i already had the idea of reiju joining in on her brothers fun in the back of my mind and now these recent conversations have hurled it to the front

just. sanji somehow meeting up with his siblings again, jaw dropping as he sees just how *whipped* 124ji are for reiju (he has to act like he isnt as well lol) although he doesn't realize the extent of The Whippening until reiju gets him alone and quite literally hands him their individual leashes. she'd talk him through what each brother responded to better; praise, degradation, punishments, rewards... sanji going from confused horror to eager intrigue all too quickly

im so sorry for flooding your askbox but this is such a fun concept. sanji getting his revenge sweet with his big sisters help <3<3

yonji would be the best first option with him arguably being the most behaved, (but being 'well behaved' for 124ji is a loose term. the bar is in hell, yonjis just slightly above it lmao) he's all excited to please after crossing the emotional barrier between them and allowing himself to get lost in this newfound pleasure. i think sanji would agree on him being a good start too, considering how noticeably eager yonji is to see reiju coach someone else into reeling him in- and the fact that its *sanji* is better for the both of them!! *cough*sanji DEFINITELY doesnt have a kink for yonji calling him 'sanji-nii' or any iteration of the term nope definitely not*cough* ichiji and niji would watch on with hungry eyes, *knowing* what yonjis packing from previous experience. he can be wild, sometimes

next would probably be ichiji. he's compliant and mostly willing- its just very hard to get a good reaction out of him. he'd try to act sooo tough at the start, desperately trying to keep his face blank, but then his heartrate would spike and his body would get all shaky as reiju guided sanjis hands on where to touch him and how to do it, where to be gentle enough to make him melt, and where to press and bite into to make him scream. the fact that niji and yonji were off to the side, not-so-subtly whispering about how hot he looked was also *not* helping. (he secretly loves the attention >:])

aand niji. whoo boy, the brat himself, niji. theres a reason reiju started training him before the other two, and that's because hes an absolute *brat*. a bottom brat? oh, *absolutely*. but still a brat. he'd try sooo hard to get someone to touch him by being all whiny, pouty, and mouthy- they'll shut him up *somehow* if he just keeps talking, right? reiju would probably have to whisper in sanjis ear about 'leaving him out to dry until he comes crawling over, begging to be touched *nicely*'. and lo and behold, after being forced to watch reiju and sanji torture yonji and ichiji in the best ways possible, he *broke*, doing exactly what reiju said he would. but, when niji finally broke and asked? oh you KNOW that boy is getting wrecked. reiju and sanjis notable ignorance and/or mockery of him turning into sudden back-handed compliments about him being such a good boy, so polite to ask for help. yonji and ichiji watching from the sidelines, definitely wishing they could make niji squirm like that, too.

even better if at the end of it, when sanji thinks its all over, reiju decides to reward 124ji by letting them go at him however they'd like (with her supervision, of course :])

WOW THIS IS LONG IM SO SORRY ANYWAYS UHH MOMMY DOMMY REIJU FOR THE WIN SHE CAN FIX THIS FAMILY WITH THE POWER OF PUSSY ALONE 💃💃💃

Anon. ANON!!!!!!!! This is amazing??????? I'm- let me take a second to breath here, this is just so good so perfect so accurate and everything I've ever needed??? They each fit perfectly in their roles and the end was such a treat, I'M FOAMING AT THE MOUTH you captured their personalities so well I want to scream

Yonji's definitely eager, but they can't underestimate him, he's bigger than all of them and it'll only take a second if he decides to stop complying and have things the way he wants them. So while reiju gives him more leeway she also needs to keep a closer eye on him

Ichiji's so stoic and calm and cool qnd collected, it takes a lot for him to express anything and even longer for him to finally let go. Reiju needs to go slow with him, like she's dealing with a scared animal, and coax him into realizing he's in good hands and he can let go of his role as the responsible older brother for a while

Niji is a brat, he doesn't listen, refuses to admit he's enjoying it, but his body betrays him and from then it becomes so easy to tease him and make him putty in reiju's hands. If he's being particularly difficult she just ignores him in favor of the others and she can't help her smirk when she sees how dejected he looks all pouty but still refusing to beg for it until she asks him if he'll be a good boy now

Sanji watches all of it with an open mouth, he's always known the power reiju had but this totally exceeded his expectations. He doesn't know if he can control the three like she can, but he tries and it's going well until a mischievous glint crosses reiju's eyes and she gives 124ji the green light to ravish him instead

I also like to think reiju likes to pair 124ji up and watch, see how they interact with each other so she can have a better grasp on how to handle them and on what they like, and if she gets off on it too then that's just a bonus

[the-heaminator]

Chapter 15 of the murder fic

They didn't let Francis return home that night, they had too many things to discuss, and he was a little too, how should I put this, rabid, liable to bite if he wasn't beaten enough?

He was certainly not in a good place by any stretch of the imagination, which to be fair was what they wanted, but he hadn't got close enough to the brink of insanity to be considered safe in their odd little way, and certainly seemed simply too disturbingly human and fallible for them to simply let him go, and they did actually have things to discuss.

He was frogmarched through the woods, to stop him running away, though with his unstable he seemed as he walked, stumbling and tripping over roots and whatnot, even if he did try in earnest, he wouldn't have gotten very far, and he seemed too downright scared to even try, he was almost limp in Ivan's grip while Arthur led the way through the dark and gloom back into town, they all looked a little scruffy, Francis looked utterly dishevelled, there was mud on his clothes and face, his eyes were darting around like a caged beast, but with the two others flanking him now, less attention came his way, the other two started to rather pleasantly discuss utterly horrifying things, rapid pace and quick-fire, and if one wasn't listening too hard, which no one would be at this time, it was mostly tipsy students on the streets at this time, celebrating the end of term before many of them had to go home for the holidays, pity the students who either elected not to go home or had no place to go.

Just out of town, they told, rather drilled it into Francis, that he needed to collect himself, stop crying, look like he simply fell down or something of the sort, his eyes were red and puffy, hair a matted scraggly mess, but he had stopped crying, somehow, Francis did not know how he managed it, fear probably, he felt cold, too cold, yes it was near midwinter, but this felt different, not the nibbling on his skin that came with the wind, or the clear-headedness that such a stiff breeze causes, he felt full of wool, like a marionette conducted by strings somewhere above him that he could not see and have no control over, full of wet wool, heavy and cold, he wanted nothing more than to just curl up and die

He could barely register his limbs as his own, stumbling where the two led him, once again dimly wondering whether they would just kill him, this was discarded after he thought about it for a while, that would be too merciful of them, it seemed unlike them, and apparently, they had use for him yet, they wouldn't kill him, maybe they would torture him too, to keep his mouth shut maybe, he couldn't think straight and wasn't entirely sure he wanted to, somewhat he wished he would just die at their hands.

He was led to their house, he did know that they lived together, all the faculty did and so did most of the students, things spread like wildfire, rumour is halfway across town before the truth had a chance to get its boots on, but sometimes rumour is more reminiscent of truth than you might think, just without all the details; they were almost married in all but name, but even as he knew, it seemed odd to see their shared residence.

Maybe today's theme was just odd.

An understatement most definitely, but it wasn't wrong either.

The house looked old, not run down but certainly not in the best condition, a tad creaky, they must've gotten it cheap and fixed it up slightly, considering that it was in a rather sketchy part of town, not the place you would expect two professors to live, definitely not ones of such coveted subjects, and Francis mildly wondered whether they'd brought the house together financially, was that how houses work, joined ownership was it called? Shared ownership?

Ivan opened the door, unlocking the door with some difficulty, he had to barge into it just a little to loosen it enough to open.

Francis really was in too deep, like a spider after mating, he had already gotten in too deep, but now he most definitely knew it, the doorway yawned over him in all its creaky glory, and he was swallowed within, he had to tread carefully lest he ends up in the mouth of the others.

*

The last day of term was normally a joyous occasion, people could go home, of course there was always the crushing fear of exams and failure, but if drowned in enough alcohol and ignored for long enough, it seemed to go away, or if it was replaced with other more pressing problems, and Julchen had all three on her roster, too much alcohol in her system, the loud noise of the bar somewhat distracted her from her academic worries, though these, of course, were less of contributors than the continued disappearance of Ludwig, it had been a couple of weeks now, and she had filed a report with the police, they seemed to not be particularly interested, and there was only so much she and Feliciano could do.

He had been a help, and a wonder, though again she still had no idea why he was doing it, she knew Ludwig had mentioned him in passing, but never often enough or with enough fondness or any emotion really behind it to really constitute a type of attachment or bond, but now she couldn't look a gift horse in the mouth, she was too tired to do that. He had gone off to flirt with someone or the other after he had a few drinks, he had invited her out after a particularly stressful night of poring over given information, suspicions, schoolwork and what not, it ended in her banishing Feliciano, not for any mistake of his own, she had started to sob quietly and did not want anyone to see her in that state after he tried to comfort her.

She felt bad that after all that, the next day he brought her out for celebratory drinks, there really didn't seem like there was anything to celebrate, he looked a mess that day too, but now he seemed absolutely fine, that man had a way of changing his moods with such speed and precision that it was a little scary, but now that she was pleasantly buzzed, she felt a little nicer about everything, she wasn't drunk per se but certainly wasn't all that sober, she didn't want to talk much and was content just sitting there.

It was kind of nice, loud and chaotic as it was, it felt oddly comforting, she normally didn't like bars and pubs and the like, she was usually only there for business purposes anyways, but coming here right now was probably the best ting for her sorry state, she needed no more time with her thoughts for a good while, she wanted them to shut up so very much, and the bar lent itself well to this.

She didn't expect anyone to sit next to her, and she expected less to actually recognise them.

"Tolys? Feliks?"

"The very same."

"Yep, that is I!"

Feliks span on the creaky barstool he was perched upon, clearly quite a bit drunk, and Tolys, his ever-suffering..friend?..at this moment Julchen couldn't remember if they were dating or not, the last time they talked they seemed to be, but that felt like it was so so very long ago, they'd drifted a bit after second year, and more every subsequent year, but they did talk sometimes, and right now, she didn't know why exactly, she wanted as many people as she could have around her.

What was I saying?

Ah yes, Tolys cuffed him round the head a little and kissed him on the nose, he was also clearly quite tipsy if he was doing such displays of affection in public, and they probably were still dating if this was anything to go by.

"So what's up with you?"

She remembered after a while that Feliks was doing art history and Tolys was doing medicine, they really seemed the opposite of each other sometimes, but then again they were also oddly similar, she was rarely this fond of people, it must've been the alcohol, there was no better way to explain it, and after a rather prolonged pause in which she hastily sought through her wretched mind for a good answer, she gave up and just said "Nothing much."

Feliks looked around, a bit like an owl, he had always been an odd kid, but the three were almost stuck at the hip until they got to high school, and even then they stayed close for far longer than most people can say early friendships lasted, they drifted yes, but not enough to become strangers to one another again, and when tipsy this shined clearer and he said "Where's Luddy?"

Julchen froze for a second, she felt terrible that she had forgotten about him, too wrapped up in her own silly little pleasures for once, and weighed her options she could lie, but she didn't have the energy for that, but if she just blurted it out it would completely ruin the entire atmosphere, so she moved her hand in an odd motion and said, almost defeated.

"Dunno, I dunno where he is anymore."

She took a big gulp of her drink to placate herself and her thoughts, the two looked at her oddly, and she noted their eyes two pairs of varying different shades of green, one like the forest and one like an emerald, the forest ones tilted with concern and Tolys spoke "What do you mean by that Julchen?" he sounded genuinely confused for a moment before seemingly coming to his senses as he sipped his drink causing him to give out a hacking cough "Wait, wait, shit is he missing!"

He certainly caught on much faster than she thought he would, but then again, he was almost like an older brother to Ludwig when they were younger, he would certainly, or at least was quite likely to still have a protective streak over him, and all Julchen could do was look into her drink and force herself not to cry, the night had been going so well, too well for the likes of her, clearly she seemed like she didn't deserve joy while Tolys panicked for a moment, roped Feliks in, who was not exactly the most lucid right about now, so that angle was dropped for now.

She was interrogated, though with good intentions by Tolys, and all the details she told him you already know, so I shall not bore you with them, he looked utterly distraught, he wasn't ready for that, no wonder Julchen seemed off.

She was about to get another drink when she was stopped by Feliciano, who had seemed to melt out from the crowd from absolutely nowhere, Tolys stood up, albeit shakily and threatened him, thinking he was some sleazeball who wanted to do unmentionable things to her, he was aware of her part way profession, so the threat was very real.

She was done right now, with pretty much everything and anything, and grabbed both of them, Tolys grabbed Feliks who really did seem to be on a different planet and stalked outside, she had good tolerance and hadn't had all that much to drink, at least compared to Tolys and Feliks, she wasn't sure whether Feliciano was sober or not, but he seemed attentive enough to at least corroborate her story if nothing else, and thus began the explanation.

But I shall not bore you with that, not yet at least, how about we move the scene a tad somewhere else? It's getting a bit boring here and there are quicker things to go onto, and I do sincerely apologize for jumping about so much, I don't usually do this.

*

Francis had been ordered to clean up a bit, something about him smelling like a barn, he couldn't remember, but he did end up in their shower not long after he had gotten into their house, home? The difference was arbitrary at best but it was a welcome distraction to his mind, it still felt like wet cotton, but now there were lice all infested within it, crawling and sticking to the cloth of his mind, itching incessantly, half-baked thoughts roaming free, not living long enough to ever come to a conclusion, but leaving dozens more in its wake, jumbled and bustling yet sodden and heavy.

Oddness was the energy of today, perhaps the feeling of oxymoron, was there an adjective for that? Oxymoronic? Francis supposed that his mind was playing tricks on him, trying to rationalize, he had asked them for help, he knew it would come at a price, and it wasn't all that bad, but these trivial thoughts were a comforting, really distracting blanket, albeit a thin one, over the tumult of nonsense that was his mind, like a scratchy but well-worn blanket during an illness, and his mind supplied what illness specifically, something horrific and incurable, spreading without want or reason, spreading to the mind, like rabies!

Though well that could easily be treated with antibiotics if he was under a threshold, he could be safe, rather he could've been safe, he had gone above that threshold, rabies, insanity, odd comparisons, but they all did have thresholds, as did pain, people have thresholds for a lot of things, sanity is a threshold isn't it, what was sanity, what is the difference between sanity and insanity, effectively an in at the beginning of the word changing the whole meaning, insanity was relative too, everything was relative everything was a spectrum, why didn't anything make sense, why was he here, he needed to leave, he needed to L E A V E.

His mind went blank as he swallowed, he had not a clue why, and wasn't sure whether he liked it or not, but right now he was just too tired to care, far too tired, he just needed to get washed up and leave, or do whatever the two told him to do, safest option right now, both for his shreds of sanity and his physical well being, he saw what Arthur could do, and if his fuzzy deductions were correct, the one on the far side, not Matthew the other one, the one with his head lolling, was Ivan's doing, he had no idea what was going on over there but that was somehow scarier than the blood and gore of the other two.

As he was...ah... going through it, as they say, Arthur and Ivan were in as close to marital bliss as two unmarried men could get to, believe me, it is close enough for you to really not know the difference, the only difference was that they were not in holy matrimony in the eyes of the lord, but at this point, it was scarcely possible to get into his good favours anymore, so they frankly could not care less.

The height difference was always fun, Ivan was tall but felt somewhat smaller than his height would suggest, he held himself in a way that made him look perpetually embarrassed of his height, and had an energy about him that was inviting, the type grandmothers would coddle over even at his age, and even with him towering over them, it was a natural ability, he had always been like this, and this was one of the better defences, when students said he looked like he ate children, it was meant entirely in jest, he was generally well loved by his students, and Arthur, both of which mattered equally to him, though technically his students were a large body and Arthur was only one, but hush with the semantics would you.

Arthur was about a good foot shorter than Ivan but seemed larger when in a room, if only because his presence was just somehow larger, like a swan almost, they seem larger than they are, and feel untouchable, beautiful with the opportunity to be deadly, but directly compared to Ivan, he looked tiny, and when with him Arthur felt not the need to pretend to be large, he liked being enveloped within Ivan's heart and body, he knew it was a foolish move, he was meant to be somewhat above most people, or at least he liked to think of himself as such, but the human heart was notoriously fallible, no matter what one did, and truly Arthur thought himself lucky.

He could have ended up with a whole lot worse of a man than Ivan, and currently as Arthur was stubbornly trying to force the lid of a tupperware container open without breaking the brittle box, the last of their meat, it just seemed fitting to give Francis a taste of what would be to come wasn't it, Ivan's cooking was always wonderful, and after a while in the freezer it had gotten a bit chewy, that was what usually happened at least, but something was better than nothing.

He failed and had to get Ivan to do it, though not without struggle, Arthur could open the box, but it would just break in the process, you would naturally think that Ivan was the one that relied more on brute strength, but it was more often Arthur, mainly because he had less of it to give, Ivan had constantly always been too strong for his own good and learnt to reign it in at an early age.

This means he could open the box without it breaking, something Arthur could scarcely be able to do, Arthur grumbled a bit, but as Ivan was standing right behind him he couldn't help but kiss the top of his grumpy little head, he loved this man more than he thought possible, honestly they would be terrible for anyone else other than each other, that was some of the beauty in them, it would quite literally be murder for anyone else.

He had never gotten used to how direct Arthur could be at times, he was generally more used to the reserved Arthur, or the sleepy cuddly type which he loved the most, the fiery passion that came over him sometimes was always unexpected, but most of the time it was very much welcome, Ivan was still wearing his suit, it was grimy but hell it was the last day of the semester, who cared, and Arthur pulled him around with it, now he was the one with his back against the counter, eyes wide and cheeks aflame.

He looked adorable, and Arthur really couldn't help himself, today had been a good day, and there were only very few instances where he could kiss Ivan without needing to tiptoe and Ivan having to bend down quite a bit, Arthur pressed him over the counter, probably hurt his back but hell it's home, they can do as they please, Arthur crashed his lips onto Ivan's, ok he did have to tiptoe still, but not much, Ivan's eyes, if possible, went wider, but he really wasn't complaining, he pulled Arthur in towards him, an easy task, and they continued until Arthur ran out of breath.

Ivan looked like a kicked puppy because Arthur had to disconnect, to breathe if nothing else, but tried and succeeded to placate Ivan with a lick on the lips, a little unsanitary but whatever, kissing was proven to be one of the worst methods of pathogen transportation, and for a moment they just stayed there, enjoying each others touch, before Ivan had to get up, and cracked his back doing so with an audible and somewhat painful sounding pop, and they finished heating the stew on the hob like nothing had ever happened, it took a while.

Frozen stews and curries were an absolute pain to melt properly, there was always something that stayed frozen or something that felt like the surface of the sun, but it would have to do, Francis would need his first taste, just to know that he could never go back.

Where was he anyways?

He hadn't left the shower but it had been a good 30 minutes he'd been in there, eh he probably needed the time, to clear his mind or something, Arthur knocked the door just in case, to tell him to be out soon.

Oddly domestic this was, at least Arthur and Ivan felt so, Francis was not in a position to have any say anymore, Francis came out not long after, he wasn't all that much taller than Arthur, so his clothes fit.

He never thought he would turn up in their house, bathing in their bathroom, and wearing one of his fellow Professors clothes, it was...odd, the whole situation was odd but right now he was in no state to complain, he could barely form a full sentence, he wanted to sleep.

Ivan and Arthur needed to clean themselves up too, neither took more that 5 minutes, and Francis was always in the sight of one of them, he didnt do anything, he just sat in the sofa, looking a different species of exhausted, it wasn't the exhaustion that came after an adrenaline high, it was similar, that played a part, but there was also the bone-deep tiredness that came with fearful acceptance, he had already gone through the gates of hell, there was no going back, but he hadn't been dehumanised the point that he could enjoy it, not yet at least.

They switched, the room remained in silence save for the quiet bubbling of the stew, Ivan was now out, sitting in his home clothes, he just looked innocent even when he was anything but it, he always did, it felt a little better anyhow, Arthur was just so overbearing like this, he was normally a bit scary but not to the point where just him looking at you did anything, he had heard that students of his did experience this, but he had never before and thought it to be silly, turns out it was not.

In the same way, Ivan was well loved, and often considered to be one of the nicest professors, but now it just seemed off-putting, it was probably a good guise but it worked even as Francis knew exactly what was happening, that cold dark little cabin, hidden away in the forest, no one would find them, he would have to do that too, he would be part of this whether he liked it or not, and no one would belive him if he did blab, and he would likely die from it, as his mind has supplied plenty of times before there was no way out other then obedience, and he was frankly slowly growing to accept it, a frightening thought most certainly, but it would keep him alive.

Yes, they would.

Probably.

His thoughts had just started to collect after what was a good half-week of them being everywhere, unfinished and jittery, scattered again, and his pulse quickened again at these thoughts, he was so tired but with adrenaline flowing through his veins again, his adrenal glands, poor things, working overtime to fulfil the wishes of the hypothalamus, he was still scared, like when a bear was made to dance, still a wild animal, just beaten into submission, people were slightly different, you could use words to break their minds too, ad he was sure Arthur would use this against him, but he was just too tired, even adrenaline can only do so much to one who hasn't slept in a good half week and hasn't eaten in about the same time, whose cried himself silly and experienced pretty much all of the negative emotions humans can feel in a very short period of time.

Arthur was out now too, he looked smaller when not wearing his suit and tie, he looked oddly human too, he went to go check on the stew, to move it about, make sure the meat was defrosting, with this Francis's eyelids drooped and closed, quite against his will, he was sitting as far away from the two as he could on their sofa, Arthur had climbed onto the sofa next to Ivan, partially on him.

They weren't as young as they used to be, and the stress of everything, marking and teaching were stressful things, and even as they both loved their jobs, it did become overwhelming rather easily, and they had two comforts, their toys as well as each other, Ivan fell asleep rather quickly, tired from the day that had just happened.

The house was pleasantly quiet, the stew was on very low heat s it was unlikely to burn or stick to the pot, human tasted nice, and like pork it was tough, and needed to be heated nicely as pork did, they could afford to waste some time here, at least for a little.

Though of course, this couldn't last all that long, the stew was done, Ivan was awoken with some difficulty, he slept like the dead when given the chance, and kept trying to hug Arthur and just go to sleep for the night, a fair move, but something they had to wait just a little longer to do, Ivan was drowsy as Arthur ladled out the stew, he looked younger with his hair all mussed up in home clothes with glasses on crooked.

Francis woke up to the bustling, he was anxious enough in his sleep, he didn't go all that deep into sleep either, hovering about the surface of sleep, and far easier to wake up.

They looked human. Monsters can be human though, don't let your eyes fool you.

The table was set and the stew was served, Ivan had the largest helping as usual, Arthur was oddly hungry too, they gave Francis only a bit to begin with, there was more in the pot, but he seemed hungry so it was likely he would eat more, even though he would probably just vomit it all out later if the anxiety got too strong, some food needed to get into him or it would be bad for all people involved, and it was good to give him a taste.

By the way Francis was eyeing it he did seem to have at least a good inkling about what was in the stew, but with the intent gaze of the other two, one questioning, one commanding, he took a bite, and then another, and another, his hunger got the best of him, and it tasted like pork, but milder, stringy but pleasantly so, and whatever spices were put into it had perfectly leached into it, he could almost forget that this was probably the flesh from some unfortunate student from god knows how long ago, they must only do this irregularly otherwise it would be suspicious, and the meat did have the texture of something frozen for quite a long time.

Ivan asked for more, and bread, which was given to him, and Francis didn't know what to do, he was starving and the food had only made it stronger, but he didn't want to dirty his soul by asking for more. Bit late for that Francis, bit late but alright.

He gave in, too hungry and tired to care, he knew he should've had a more violent reaction, but he was out of relations to give right now, and he ate in silence, the other two discussed things not of importance to mention here, but were somewhat distracting for Francis' mind, he could barely understand any of it, it didn't sound like words but they probably were, he was just too out of it to notice, or care, just the buzzing of syllables in his ears allowed him to ignore his mind, at least for the time being.

They stayed on the table for the best part of an hour, before Arthur called out to Francis, it took a while for him to realise they were calling out his name, his auditory processing had seemingly stopped working for a while, a completely normal occurrence during a panic attack, but he wasn't panicking, at least he probably wasn't, not to his knowledge, and when he looked at Arthur with completely blank eyes, his eyes were normally so pretty, even Ivan would say so, but now they looked broken, just scared even as Francis didn't realise, Arthur felt a list of things that normally aren't ones to coincide, especially not in him.

Pity, anger, guilt, and a couple others Arthur couldn't name swirled about, he wasn't meant to be like this, this wasn't well planned out, this wasn't even planned out, it had really just been a pipe dream for the longest time to get him to join, and now that he did, neither could understand why he was being so difficult, what was the problem in sacrificing your humanity for pleasure, it just made sense to them, but he looked just broken, and not the type that could be easily harnessed either, shattered rather than broken, with broken you could glue it back together with words and coaxes to slowly change it, with shattered that was far more difficult, some pieces would be lost, but it could still be salvaged, yes, but not right now, he needed sleep.

They would discuss this amongst themselves, if Francis wanted to get involved he could, but he didn't seem to be in the best place right now "Francis, would you like to sleep?"

He took a while to process before he shook his head and slowly said, lowly and a little cracked, nothing like the smooth suave voice they were used to hearing from him "N-no, not when I am the topic of discussion. What is it that you would like to say?"

The two looked at each other, emerald meeting amethyst, and the latter said "As you have been...indicted as it was, you have to get your own toy, we will help you of course, but none of us would be willing to share, and besides, it is necessary to know how to catch one."

It kind of sounded like catching a fish if the way Ivan was explaining it was to be believed, he wanted none of it, he wanted to go home, sleep for the entire winter break, maybe this was all just a bad dream or something, he didn't want to ruin some innocent life, it was unlikely that he would eat the body, it tasted nice apparently, but he was probably not to eat it, and that was certainly a lot of meat to have stored away.

"Do you have anybody in mind?"

He had not, and he said as such "No..?"

Ivan clucked his tongue "Have you information on any of them, ones with bad family histories, quiet or ignorable ones, disliked ones, knowing you that is very likely."

Francis could scarcely access his own thoughts to a functional level, let alone access his mental records about others, and he just stared at Ivan blankly, who grimaced, an odd expression on such a soft face and he said to Arthur, not even trying to hide it "I don't think he is with us yet."

Francis had a small spark of recognition in his eyes, but it faded quickly and said "C-can we discuss this later." he made an odd sound, kind of like a groan, went pale, got up, and puked into the toilet, all the food he had just eaten gone down the toilet, they had expected it, but it was a bit insulting for it to happen, especially to Ivan, but he forced himself to at least try to sympathise with his plight, they waited for him, he slumped over the toilet bowl and started to cry again.

Ugly tears of fear and whatnot streamed down his face, he curled up into himself, how had he just eaten that so eagerly, what was he even now, he was subhuman now, he barely registered being lifted up on one side by Arthur and the other by Ivan until they carried him into the bright living room and set him down on the sofa, put a blanket on him, and left the room, making sure everything was locked to stop him escaping.

They were confusing, scary, comforting and everything in between all at once and none at the same time, he couldn't dwell on this too long as he fell back into an uncomfortable, fitful, but deep sleep, the other two did the same, they were tired as well, and Ivan's back was not going to take anymore any time soon if he kept abusing it like so, the sound he made when he laid flat on his side of the bed was almost erotic, he slept quickly, and with Arthur buried in his chest, being held close with his arms, it was good, life was good sometimes, though as usual, Arthur squirmed a bit to be comfortable before falling into a deathlike sleep, they would have to catch up on a whole hell of a lot of marking during the break on days when they would be able to, at least they would be able to distress by way of their toys, and teaching Francis how to use and abuse them.

But for now they slept, some wept in an apartment not too far away, mourning a lost brother, no one mourned Alfred and Matthew, they were to stay for the break anyways, and they rarely called.

No one there to mourn or miss them, I'd say that's a bit worse, they wouldn't be missed until they were long, long beyond saving, probably gone, at least Ludwig had people to mourn, even if they were all a bit drunk right now, I shall go on about them in a bit, just you wait, for now I bid you adieu, though I hope not for long.

[yaskefer]

sons and seams and symphonies

read on ao3

This is my contribution to the Jaskier Mini Bang 2022 (@jaskierminibang) my first fandom event ever! Super excited to share this fic with you, along with the basolutely stunning decoupage art @nadik1 did for it that you can check out here.

summary: When Renfri escapes Stregobor’s men, she leaves behind a brother. Stregobor compensates. When Geralt enters the tower at Blaviken, he senses the presence of another being other than the mage and his illusions. The two things are connected.

--

Renfri had messed up her stitches again. They were uneven and did not look like flowers at all, and her fingers were sore from the dozen times she’d pricked them. She stuck her index finger in her mouth, sucking on it and scowling. She’d much rather be with Jaskier right now, playing knights and brigands, maybe. Or try to train Daisy with as many wrong commands as possible to annoy the stablemaster. 

She blew out a noisy breath, setting down the ruined embroidery work, and stood up. Technically, she didn’t need to be doing needlework right now. But she needed to show Jaskier that she could do it. If he could make recognisable buttercups in straight rows across a long piece of ribbon, she could at least stitch one recognisable flower. 

She reached back to touch said ribbon, currently tied around her hair, keeping it out of her eyes. It was a simple ponytail, something both Jaskier and their stepmother disliked. Jaskier wasn’t allowed to keep his hair long, so he always wanted to play with Renfri’s, who’d rather have it cut short halfway to her ear, but wasn’t allowed to. 

Sometimes she wished she could swap places with Jaskier. She knew Jaskier would agree too. 

The door to her room flew open, and Jaskier strode in. He paused when he saw her abandoned needlework, before leaning over to take a better look at it, brows furrowed. 

"Judging by the colours, you were trying to draw flowers. But judging by the shape, maybe you were having a go at Lady Aridea's hair," he proclaimed finally. 

Renfri let out a snort, and Jaskier snatched up the piece. He took up the needle and started undoing the stitches. Fixing them, properly. 

Renfri cast a worried look at the door, "What if someone sees you?" she hissed at him, moving to shut the door before anyone could look in. Jaskier already got punished enough for not being 'manly' enough, whatever the fuck that meant. If someone saw him sewing, they'd both be in for it. 

"Hush, it'll be fine. If someone comes in I'll just tell them I was making fun of you." He bit down on his lips, fingers moving effortlessly through the threads, doing and undoing them so fast that trying to keep track proved impossible. "It's not too bad," he said, "It's just…" he looked up at her, badly hiding a grin as he coughed very deliberately. 

"Aren't you supposed to be learning accounts or something," Renfri shot back, annoyed. 

Jaskier waved his hand dismissively, "I have to leave something good for you, don't I? Can't take all the spotlight." 

Renfri aimed a swat at his head, which he deftly dodged. She could see some silly retort on his lips, but didn't let him speak it before throwing a pillow at him, which struck him right in the middle of his face. 

Jaskier spluttered, Renfri laughed, and for a moment, she didn't have to worry about the black sun, or the creepy old mage, or the hate always colouring Lady Aridea's eyes. 

---

Jaskier stared blankly at the wall in front of him, counting his breaths slowly. In for the count of three, hold for three, and out for three. It wasn’t really helping, but he could feel himself going numb. 

These were the things he knew; the mage– Stregobor– was talking to his father and stepmother. Renfri was gone, and Renfri hated Stregobor. 

Stregobor was here, and Renfri was gone. 

She hadn’t said anything to him. He woke up that day to see her gone, which wasn’t unusual in itself, except she’d never come back to her room the night before. He’d gone to her room to show her his new piece, a handkerchief with the tiniest birds stitched along the sides, and she hadn’t been there. She hadn’t been there in the morning either. 

And then there had been a lot of chaos, with Stregobor at the head of it. 

When the door to the room opened, Jaskier didn’t look up, but he knew who it was. There was something about the man that seemed to suck all joy and life out of the room whenever he entered. Something about him that made you suffocate. 

“Well, Julian,” he said, and finally, Jaskier looked up. Stregobor had the nastiest grin on his face, “Looks like you’re coming with me.”

Jaskier froze, staring at Stregobor, as icy cold fingers gripped his heart and squeezed. “No,” he said automatically. 

Stregobor frowned, “Come now, Julian, don’t be difficult. You know what your sister did. Creyden doesn’t need a prince like you.” 

“No one needs a sorcerer like you either.” Jaskier thrust up his chin. He’d leave, he’d leave that day, no one cared anyway. He’d leave and find Renfri. And they’d run away together. He didn’t know what Stregobor had done to her, but he’d find her and, knowing Renfri, make Stregobor pay. 

He never wanted to be a prince anyway, so confirmation that even his father didn’t want him didn’t quite phase him. 

“You’ve got quite a mouth on you, don’t you?” Stregobor said idly, taking a step closer to him. Jaskier willed himself to stay still. “Just like your sister. It won’t serve you well.” 

Jaskier stiffened, “Ren did nothing wrong.”

“You would say that, wouldn’t you?”

Jaskier lurched to his feet and snarled at him, “Fuck you! Fuck you to hell and back.” 

Stregobor just gave him a half smile, his quirked lips a cruel slash against an even crueller face. 

---

It was a beautiful day, and the sun felt good on her face, warm and bright, colours visible even through her closed lids. Renfri could hear a stream running nearby, crouched down on the ground, barefoot with her toes curling against the soft, cool soil. Her hands were buried in it as well, her britches rolled halfway up her calves. 

The britches had been made with Jaskier in mind, but it didn’t really matter. They often exchanged clothes, often enough that they practically had the same wardrobe. 

It was late afternoon, almost evening, now. The sun hanging low, the sky just starting to turn into a beautiful shade of orange, lighting up her hair a brilliant crimson. She was waiting for Jaskier, they were supposed to hunt for frogs in the stream after his fencing lessons were done. 

When she finally heard footsteps behind her, as familiar to her as her own heartbeat, she rose and turned with a smile. 

The smile slipped off her face like water through cupped hands when she noted his red-rimmed eyes and the dark red mark on his cheek. It would definitely bruise later. 

Jaskier gave her a watery smile, coming closer as he started rolling up his sleeves to go catch frogs. Like nothing had happened to derail their plans. 

Oh no, so not happening. She grabbed him by the wrist, yanking him to a stop before he could step into the water. He hadn’t even rolled up his britches yet, Lady Aridea would be apocalyptic if they went back with muddied clothes. 

She raised a hand to Jaskier’s cheek, her fingers leaving a muddy smear across pale skin. She gritted her teeth as his smile turned more genuine. 

“I’m going to kill him,” she said, seething. How could their father allow it? How could he just… let others hurt his children? Did they not matter? Were they not his firstborn? And she could get it, she could, his disregard for her. She was a girl, a woman, more a bargaining chip than anything. But Jaskier? Why did no one care about him?

“I’d love to watch,” Jaskier grinned, showing teeth, this time. He grabbed her hand and tugged it down, “Let's go catch some frogs to put in Aridea’s bed now.”

---

The room he’d been given was cold. Goosebumps erupted across Jaskier’s skin, and his teeth would have chattered if it weren’t for the gag Stregobor had stuffed in his mouth; dry, rough, and foul-tasting. He shivered and shuddered, the lightest of movements making the too-tight ropes chaff against his already bruised wrist and ankles. 

The ceiling was high enough to be intimidating, to make him feel small, cowed, almost. He couldn’t even lift his hands up to wipe the angry tears from his face. 

Stregobor hadn’t done anything to him, not really. Just tied him up, gagged him when he started screaming profanities at the man, and put him in this cell. Stonewalled, windowless, and cold as fuck. He’d even stripped his shoes, socks, and doublet from him, leaving him only in his chemise and britches. 

It would have been a cell, he supposed, if it weren’t for the perfectly ordinary wooden door instead of metal bars. 

It didn’t really matter, though. Not the cold, not the gag, not the rope burns around his wrist and ankles, not the fact that he’d been essentially disowned, not the fact that he would never go home again. 

What mattered was that he would never see Renfri again. He didn’t think he would. Stregobor had taken them far away from Creyden, the portal causing an instant change of temperature and making Jaskier lurch and retch until he couldn’t throw up anymore. Far far away from home. 

He didn’t even know if Renfri was alive. He knew she’d run away, and she knew the woods, like Jaskier, like the back of her hand. But they were only 14, and one could only do so much with trained men after them.

He shuddered, more tears leaking out of his eyes. He didn’t want to cry, he didn’t, didn’t want to give Stregobor the satisfaction of seeing him cry if he were to burst into the room. But if he didn’t grieve for Renfri, no one would. If he didn’t cry for her, no one would. 

He couldn’t just… let go of her like this. 

So he cried, and shuddered, and sobbed until the tears ran dry. And then he cried some more.

---

“See?” Jaskier said, grinning at her, “It’s pretty. And deadly. Like you.” 

Renfri laughed, her fingers running delicately over the ornate hilt of the dagger, “You’re just complimenting yourself, you know?” 

Jaskier snorted, “I’m not deadly though. I can’t even fence properly. You’re the one who manages to copy Sir Frederick just from looking at us practice.”

Renfri shrugged, pleased at the praise but unwilling to admit it. And anyway, Jaskier was a lot better at her in the things she was supposed to be good at, so that made them even. 

She couldn’t stop running her fingers over the knife, the hilt starting to warm with her constant touch. There was a beautiful, bright red ruby embedded in it, the colour of blood. Her favourite colour. She didn’t ask where Jaskier had gotten it. She just knew he had gotten it for her, and she knew he must have paid some sort of price for it, or he wouldn’t have given it to her as such a reverent gift. It was a beautiful thing, nearly as beautiful as her mother’s ornate brooch.

It wasn’t very long, the hilt and the blade making up roughly the length of her forearm. It was double-bladed, sharp, clean, and gleaming. One side of it was silver, the other steel. 

She could feel a lump in her throat, tears starting to gather in her eyes. 

Jaskier noticed, because of course he did, and beamed at her, “C’mon then, are you going to show me how to skin rabbits with it now?” 

Renfri laughed wetly and shoved him backward. 

She loved Jaskier so much that sometimes it hurt. She loved him to the point of destruction, and she knew without a doubt that there was very little she wouldn’t do for him. The thought didn’t scare her, as it perhaps should have. He deserved it, he deserved someone who would be willing to go to the ends of the world for him. 

Why would it scare her? 

She was already a monster, why not be a monster for a worthy cause? 

The ribbon he’d embroidered for her was warm around her wrist, a constant reminder of his love for her as well, and now this. 

She’d have to get a sheath made for it, and maybe a belt she can attach it to, or some sort of pockets in her skirts or britches she could put it in. She’d watch the knights and soldiers training more carefully, better, not just the idiot teaching Jaskier fencing. She had a dagger now, she’d best learn how to use it as well.

Worthy causes. 

---

There was a girl. There were the woods. And there was a girl running through the woods. 

Renfri’s breaths dragged out of her in painful, panting sobs as she ran, and ran, and ran. Her legs ached and cramped horribly, her fingers white-knuckled around the dagger Jaskier had given her, a stitch in her side that made breathing harder with every pounding step she took. 

By Lilith’s name, she will fucking kill Stregobor, she will murder him, she’ll murder him with the same knife Jaskier had given her, she’ll shove it up that fucker’s arse, she’ll–

Renfri tripped over another tree root, her third in however many minutes she’d been running for. She landed on her hands and knees, her dagger flying from her hands and landing a few feet away. Her knees and palms scraped against the forest floor, stinging harshly. 

She let out a choked sob, bent almost in double, before taking in a deep breath and straightening up. She crawled over to where her dagger had fallen, wiped her hands on her skirt and picked it back up. 

Then she climbed to her feet, took another few deep breaths, and looked around to see if anyone was still pursuing her. She couldn’t hear anything other than the usual forest sounds, but she knew that didn’t mean much. 

Her body shook with tremors, and her knees threatened to buckle even as she stood still. The slippers covering her feet were impractical and made her soles hurt. Her dress was thin, it itched in places where the embroidery was done badly along with the frills that had been added in awful places, and there was a long rip running right up to the middle of her thighs. 

She turned her head up, letting the sunlight filtering through the tree canopy fall on her face.

Then she resumed running. 

---

“We should run away together,” Jaskier said quietly.

They were sitting in Renfri’s bed, pressed against each other. The large window was open, letting in the cool night air and making the little wind chime hanging in her room tinkle pleasantly. A single large blanket was wrapped around both of them, lush and soft and warm. Jaskier was warm as well, and Renfri was happy. 

“That’s a nice dream,” Renfri whispered, closing her eyes and letting the cool air rustle through her open hair. She hated braids, the maids always did them up too tight and they pulled at her head and gave her headaches. Taking out the clips and hair ties always led to several yanked-out hairs as well, and her hair was long enough that sometimes it made her head feel heavy. 

Jaskier had a hand on her head, and was scratching gently at her irritated and sore scalp. She sighed, and melted a little against him. She could remember their mother doing this for her, very vaguely, more feeling than real memory. But she could remember it. 

“I’m serious,” Jaskier said, a small laugh huffing out of him before he turned serious. “It’s not like there’s anything for us here, no one’s gonna miss us.” 

“You’re the heir to the throne, why’d you want to run away?” Although she already knew the answer. It wasn’t the first time they were having this conversation. Their life was a bleak one, with rules and confines and helplessness. Running away fantasies were a staple. 

“I–” Jaskier turned suddenly, jolting Renfri so she had to straighten up and face Jaskier as well. She missed the calm of his hand on her head, but she paid attention, “This isn’t just a fantasy anymore, Ren. We both know that I’m the heir only in name, we both know Father’s just waiting for Aridea’s son to come of age before he names him heir. And that’s the best case scenario, the one where I remain the second in line and you the third. Worst case would be an accident, to get rid of me, to avoid the scandal of changing the heir. And you? God knows who he’ll just… marry you off to.” 

Ice slid down her spine as she stared at Jaskier’s face. He looked scared, more so than she’d seen him before. And he was right, wasn’t he? They were rapidly growing older, nearer to the age when they’d become true threats. When they’d need to be dealt with. 

Renfri had already had her first blood, which meant that any moment her father and stepmother might start looking for good marriage alliances for her. To sell her off to the highest bidder. 

She couldn't imagine staying away from Jaskier. She couldn’t imagine marrying someone. She couldn’t… she didn’t want to imagine it. 

To her mortification, her eyes started stinging with tears, Jaskier’s eyes widening at the sight. 

“Ren, I wasn’t trying to– fuck–” 

“I know,” she interrupted him, “I know. I just… you’re right. We should. We should run away. But how? You know we’re guarded all the time, right? Most of the time. It’s not like old times anymore, when we were still young enough to get ‘lost’ in the woods and die.” 

Which was the only reason they hadn’t been monitored so closely before. The reason they could traverse the woods and play in the mud and try and catch frogs. Because everyone always kept hoping they would fall into a ditch somewhere and die. 

But now they were too old to leave alone. 

“We’ll find some way, okay? You and I,” Jaskier whispered, leaning his head against Renfri’s forehead, his breath warm on her face. 

A wolf howled in the distance, low and mournful. 

---

The woman’s screams rang through his ears, making Jaskier wince and writhe on the stone table he had been tied to. His head hurt, pounding in tandem with her shrieks, and he was sure his ears would start bleeding any second. 

The screams abruptly cut off, replaced with a low, pained, keening noise, watery and heart-wrenching. Jaskier went limp on the table, furious and terrified. He stared up at the ceiling, a scowl etched on his face as his fingers clenched and unclenched. 

Footsteps sounded, and he refused to turn his head to look up as Stregobor’s passive voice spoke, “Well, she isn’t dead yet. So that’s some progress. Your blood does some really strange things, Julian. It’s fascinating.” 

Jaskier didn’t speak. Couldn’t speak, what with the bit that the mage had forced into his mouth in response to Jaskier’s threat of biting his tongue off and depriving him of his favourite test subject. 

A cold hand rested on his head, and he bucked hard, trying to dislodge the hand. It didn’t budge, only stroking lightly at his sweat-soaked hair. 

“You don’t have to work yourself up into such a frenzy, Julian. Why do you care so much about some nameless woman? She won’t be missed. You haven’t even seen her.” He sighed, and removed his hand.

Jaskier squeezed his eyes shut as he felt tears pricking at them. He would have struggled more, but it wouldn't have made a difference. Stregobor always restrained him too well, quite aware that if Jaskier got free then his magic would be useless against him. One could even say he overcompensated, especially against a skinny, malnourished teenager who was probably anaemic with the amount of blood Stregobor drew every day. 

It had vindicated Jaskier at first, just how overcautious the bastard was, but now it only meant heavy chains, too little food, and more pain. 

“Now,” Stregobor said, his voice grating and self-assured, “Stay still so I can take some more of your blood. I’m sure you can spare a few more vials before we are done for today.” 

Jaskier tensed up, bracing himself for more pain. It still never really prepared him for the icy sting of a dagger cutting into the crook of his arm, the smooth, cold press of the vial pressing against the place as blood trickled into it. There was a row of several such neat cuts all across his arm. It wouldn't be long before Stregobor started on the next one. 

When he had taken three vials of blood– not that Jaskier could be sure, lost in the haze of pain and fury as he was– Stregobor gave him a sickly smile, “I’ve been studying some things, Julian, and I think I might have made a breakthrough.” 

He must have seen something on Jaskier’s face, because his smile widened, “Don’t you worry yourself about any of it, you just have to lay there, and try not to die.” 

---

The Court of Creyden didn't have a full-time court mage. 

They did have a consultant, someone who came when called and was paid on a case-to-case basis. The mage was always well dressed in expensive, revealing clothes, expertly applied dark make up, her hair open and falling below her waist. 

Her clothes were even finer than Lady Aridea's, and looking at her was the only times when Renfri ever felt like dressing up. Because she didn't look like she hurt with every movement, she didn't look meek or stuffy. The mage's movements were fluid, graceful, dangerous. Something Renfri hadn't thought possible to do in as elaborate a dress as the ones she wore. 

Renfri liked her. But they weren't really allowed to interact with her. 

The only mage she and Jaskier had contact with was Stregobor. The mage who had delivered them both during the eclipse. 

He was the worst person she knew. Looking at him made her want to take the dagger Jaskier had given her and jam it into his eyes. It wasn’t like he could do anything to stop her. 

It had been a recurring topic, the twins' immunity to magic. Renfri thought she had seen something very, very similar to fear reflecting in Stregobor's eyes. It was subtle, it was quiet, there and gone in a flash. But it was there, and not just once, often. 

Whenever she moved too fast, whenever she flashed her dagger, whenever she smiled at him with too much teeth. 

It was all too clear in the way he had them stripped down to the barest slip of clothes whenever he came to see them. As if afraid of whatever they could be hiding beneath their clothes. 

What a pathetic man, she thought, so very dependent on his magic that he can't contend with two little kids. No one else in the castle was afraid of them. They had contempt for them, yes, plenty of the palace inhabitants had contempt for her and Jaskier, but not fear. 

In a way, Stregobor was the weakest man she knew. And she loathed him. 

He poked, and he prodded, and spoke like he knew something she didn't. He never saw both Jaskier and Renfri at once. Always only taking one of them with them to the room. 

Sometimes he would make them drink fowl little things from shiny little vials, and most of those times they would spend the rest of the day throwing their guts up, while he looked on with a furrowed brow and took notes. Like they were some specimen, some particularly exotic species he was trying to study. 

She knew they were, at least for him. Nothing more than anomalies, interesting little creations that shouldn't exist, but did. Freaks of nature. But at least she knew she wasn’t alone. That there were other girls born like her. But there hadn’t been any boys, none except Jaskier. 

Which made him quite interesting to Stregobor, and she hated the way he looked at her brother. With hungry eyes, like he couldn’t wait to get his hands on him, like he would love to cut him open and see everything inside. 

She grit her teeth, she’d cut off his hands first. She would. 

---

Renfri was lost. 

She didn’t quite recognise the woods around her, but she didn’t feel like she’d been running for that long either. She’d seen some roads, she’d seen some travellers, but the people varied. 

Some, undoubtedly, did belong to Creyden, their accents unmistakable. But there were several others as well, dark skinned and light skinned and men, and women, children, and players, merchants, and farmers, and on one occasion, a really pretty bard in a feathered hat who played the harp. 

Their accents were from all over the world, and Renfri only recognised very few of them. Their clothes ranged a variety of different styles, and Renfri saw such exquisite yet practical hairstyles on some people they made her almost regret her decision to hack off her hair up to her ears. 

Not like she’d had any choice, after her hair had gotten snagged into some tangled up branches and given her a spectacular cut on the brow. She could never handle her hair before, and she certainly couldn’t now. 

It had become exceedingly clear that she couldn’t handle anything at all, really. Her dress hung in tatters around her, filthy and smelling and barely leaving anything up to the imagination. She didn’t think she’d eaten anything in days, but her memory was getting a little hazy, and the ground shook beneath her whenever she walked for longer than a few minutes at a time.

She’d thrown up horribly the last time she’d eaten. Some berries, brightly coloured and distinctly edible from what she knew. They mustn’t have been poison at least, considering she was alive and breathing. Her mouth felt like something had died in there, and her feet were covered in horrible blisters, some broken and bleeding, every step agony. 

The sun had dipped low around the horizon, the sky a pretty blend of crimsons and inky purples, and she was starting to shiver. Her gaze was fixed on a little camp made by a lonely traveller. He had a mule, from what she could see, and a nice, cosy little fire going. 

It was a well travelled road from what she’d seen. No need to have protection with yourself, no need to be overly cautious. Nothing much dangerous passed through these roads. 

The man had food. 

She could smell it, even several feet away. Something warm, and salty, maybe. Maybe some bread, or maybe he would even have dried fruits. He looked like the kind of person who carried dried fruits with himself. 

He was setting up his bedroll now. Another luxury Renfri missed, with several days of pointy, dirty ground and ticks and bugs crawling all over her. Her back ached constantly and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d not felt tired. She couldn’t remember what it felt like to not be tired. 

She swallowed around her dry throat, and tightened her fingers around the knife. 

Needs must. 

---

Every single day was worse than the last, and somewhere along the way, Jaskier had lost track.

Days and nights tend to blend together when you’re in pain and locked up in a dark and damp windowless room. 

He knew they’d moved a few times, being shoved through a portal conscious for some, and waking up in a different room with a completely different temperature during others. Of course, the temperature thing could just be a trick Stregobor was playing on him, but he didn’t think the mage would waste his time on mind games like that. 

Physical experimentation was much more fun, after all. Jaskier thought like a human, and Stregobor had no shortage of those. 

He had absolutely no idea where he was, and no one else did either. Other than Stregobor, that is. He doubted the other victims Stregobor brought in had any more idea of where they were than Jaskier. He could be rotting away in the bowels of his own father’s castle and no one would be any wiser. 

He’d grown weak enough that even the ever paranoid mage didn’t bother chaining him hand and foot, usually only leaving him with a short chain around his leg. He couldn’t really move around the place. 

Jaskier lay shaking and shuddering on the floor, every single limb cramping and aching, both cold and hot. He couldn't feel his fingers. They’d burned at first, like he’d dipped them in liquid fire, but after a while the pain had given way to blissful numbness. He’d managed to drag himself a little away from the puddle of vomit, but that had sapped any remaining bits of energy from him. 

Stregobor did this often. It wasn’t anything new, he’d done this when they’d been at Creyden’s court as well. But then he’d been a little restrained, by virtue of both him and Renfri being a prince and princess, curse notwithstanding. 

Now? Now Stregobor had free reign to try out his more experimental potions. Some left him just unconscious. He didn’t know how long, but he’d just wake up feeling exhausted, missing time he had no way of measuring. Some would do nothing. Absolutely nothing. Some would have him throwing up for hours. Some had bruises sprouting all over his body, turning his limbs black and blue. 

On a memorable occasion, one had taken away his sight for… for a really long while. Stregobor had hemmed and hawed and sounded awfully curious, prodding and poking at his face, his mouth and his eyes, drawing enough blood to leave him dizzy and nauseous.

He’d talked about maybe taking an eye out and studying it, but then discarded the idea because magic didn’t work on Jaskier– which involved healing magic as well– and he didn’t want to permanently maim the boy. Not yet, at least. 

He’d shuddered and sobbed that day. 

He’d also begged for the first time that day. 

Jaskier hated thinking about it, the sheer helplessness of not being able to see, of not knowing whether it was permanent or not. It had been worse than being strapped down and force fed potions, worse than listening to people scream as Stregobor forced magic and concoctions into them, experimenting with his blood, worse than the potion currently running through him like hellfire. 

The tears had taken hours to stop when he’d woken up to see. See. It hadn’t been permanent.  

Stregobor hadn’t been surprised. Which meant he’d known his sight would return. Jaskier didn’t know why he’d expected the mage to tell him that. He was a cruel man with absolutely no regard for Jaskier beyond his value as a test subject, as a peculiarity and abomination. But he’d been unable to help the bitter feeling of betrayal run through him either. 

Jaskier lurched up, bile rising in his throat again, burning and vile, making tears stream down his face. He wished Renfri were here. Most of the time, he was glad that she wasn’t. He couldn’t bear to see her suffer the way he was, couldn’t bear to think of everything Stregobor could have been doing to her if they had caught her. 

Better dead than this. Better dead than suffering with no end in sight, better dead than treated worse than animal, better dead than having your humanity stripped away. And for what?

To satisfy the curiosity of one human? A human more monster than anything Jaskier had encountered before. 

He didn’t move when the door to his cell creaked open, he didn’t move when he heard Stregobor’s footsteps, and he didn’t move when the mage dumped a thin, unconscious man near him. 

The man’s face was covered in grime, making it hard to make out any finer features, and set in a peaceful expression that signified a forced magical sleep Jaskier had seen on several of Stregobor’s victims before. The rags he wore were filthy as well, ripped and mended in several places. 

Typical, really. Jaskier wasn’t even surprised anymore. Stregobor always chose his victims well, the people no one would think to look for. It was so horribly cliche that on some of the worse days Jaskier could almost laugh about it.  

Currently, the pain made it impossible to do much more than hack out coughs that splattered the floor in front of him with blood in tiny droplets, stark crimson against the grey stone floor. 

“I have made some advances with regards to you,” Stregobor said mildly. Jaskier ignored him, knowing he would continue regardless of his answer.

Jaskier glared at him as he crouched down delicately, vanishing the mess at his feet with a wave of his hand. He held up two clear glass vials filled with blood. 

“Now,” Stregobor said, going in his ‘lecture’ mode, where he would explain the torture he was about to inflict in very fine detail. Only when it suited him, of course. Like it did now. “This is your blood, just a little… modified. I am fairly certain it will not kill you. I have a theory, you see.” 

Jaskier squeezed his eyes shut, curling up tighter, trying to block out the mage’s self assured voice, grating on his nerves like nails on board. 

“Of course, you’re resistant to magic, and a lot of magical potions as well. Nearly all magical potions, although they affect you a lot more than direct magic does. They’ve never once had the desired effect on you, and your body seems to reject them in increasingly— gruesome, perhaps, certainly messy ways.” 

Jaskier peeled his eyes open to see a brief expression of disgust pass over Stregobor’s face, before it settled back into gleeful curiosity. Eager. 

“Now, I was thinking, perhaps… Your body is unlikely to reject your own blood, especially if I pour it directly into your veins. Magically altered, the slightest bit. That might give me something more conclusive, won’t it?”

Despite the burning pain consuming Jaskier, his stomach turned to ice, cold fear washing over him as he weakly tried to get away. It wouldn’t matter, of course. He couldn’t get away, his body just refused to accept it. 

Stregobor paid no attention to his useless scrambling, “This man right here,” he jerked his head towards the still unconscious person lying a few feet away, limbs askew, “Is also going to receive a vial of the same enchantment, although of his own blood. A comparison, you see? I think I might finally yield some concrete results with regards to you as a naturally mutated human.”

More tears leaked down Jaskier’s face as he tried to snarl at Stregobor in anger, shaking and shuddering. Stregobor looked at him with something akin to pity, mouth twisting a little before settling in a condescending smile, “I know it hurts, Julian. But you have to realise, it’s for your own good, and for humanity’s good. Who knows where we would be now if all the Black Sun princesses had been allowed to run free? And you, Julian, you are my most prized possession, the key to unlocking this mystery, the key to answering so many questions and perhaps even saving the world. Isn’t it better to just resign yourself to it rather than fight every way? I could make it hurt less.”

Jaskier spat out a thick mouthful of blood right onto Stregobor’s pristine robes. 

---

The sword is an extension of her arm, and moves as swiftly and easily as her dagger does. 

Renfri almost likes it more than the dagger. Almost. But not quite. Nothing will ever exceed her love for her dagger, no weapon so sharp, so dear, as her love for her brother. No fire as cold and eternal as the fire of vengeance that burns within her, whispering into her ears every single day that Stregobor lives. 

The first time she had heard of Jaskier’s death, she had… stopped. 

Everything had stopped. The world had gone very, very still around her, and not even the wind blew. 

She did not know what she had expected. For Jaskier to come after her? For nothing to happen? For Creyden to move on like nothing had happened? For them to mourn the ‘death’ of Princess Renfri and then continue their merry way, perhaps happier than before, about having one cursed child out of the way? 

They probably did do that. They just decided to get rid of the second cursed child as well. They killed Jaskier. 

There was no ‘tragic’ accident that took the life of Prince Julian and Princess Renfri, no unfortunate event. It had been all carefully calculated by Stregobor, a convenient and pleasing turn of events. 

And then the wind blew again, stoking a fire that refused to die now. 

Renfri was going to kill Stregobor with the same dagger Jaskier gifted her, and she was going to make it hurt. 

So she trained, and trained and trained and trained. Practising by copying, practising with Jaskier, never quite came close to the real thing. This was the real thing. This was the thing that Stregobor created, and this was the thing that would kill him. 

And so she became the sword and the dagger and the Shrike. The Butcherbird on a bloody path, eyes set on a single, beaconing prey she would rent apart. 

--

there's going to be a chapter two that i'll post in two weeks time, if you're interested you can either subscribe on ao3, or ask to be on the taglist.

[yung-goos]

Rambles 0.5

i've been meaning to write. idk about what. but theres a growing need to just write. to let everything out. this will become a word salad at some point. whatever.

emotions. -

yea idk. all over the fucking place. i'm sad, lonely, confused, irritated, tired, uncomfortable, bored, hopeful, optimistic, pessimistic, inspired... theres just no keeping up with it. my mind in a constant war between what to focus on and what not to. shut down completely some months ago.. idk how long its been. distanced myself from friends, family I live with. i've been getting better, albeit slowly, but I'm not too disappointed by that. haven't really explained how i'm feeling to my friends, but they didn't seem too discouraged by my distance. i'm sure they'd understand. what i'm mainly stressed out about is having to deal with the fallout of it all with my dad. he's been taking my distance personally, which i'm torn on if i can blame him or not. now that i feel a bit better, it kind of is now. like, he scoffed when i tried to explain that i'm going through a bit of a depressive episode and get distant when it happens. sometimes i really feel like he doesn't believe me when i talk about how i feel. along with his know-it-all, assumptious attitude about everything, i'm starting to believe thats what makes talking to him so hard. like i think what i'm most scared for is not so much the actual 'talk' but the outcome. i do not know if i can handle if he misunderstands, downplays, confuses me, deflects, or even just gets a bit aggressive, as he has shown to do before... idk... cant help but think this is all on me, for not explaining things to him sooner and giving him a chance to understand fully. like the more time goes on where i - or, even we, at this point - ignore this big elephant in the room, the more i feel like we'll never get the chance to hash it out. we were content on trying to communicate after the first time we argued, and now i'm just stunned and feel like i can't... such a simple problem that could be worked through if i wasn't made to be so spineless. coming to the terms that my social anxiety runs so much deeper than i originally thought is fucking me up. can't even go out with friends without distressing myself over some innocuous interaction. i'm so so tired... i miss being around someone, people, that effortlessly broke down my walls and made me feel complete. i just want to be understood.

love. -

fuck love. not really. im filled with adoration. ambition. commitment. lust. desire. but naw. fuck love. kinda. not really though. it's weird, it's like, all the weird people that i've dealt with over the course of moving and being here has left such a bad taste in my mouth. like even thinking about having to sift through a bunch of people to find the ones who won't make me feel like i'm not even worth it... it makes me itch. despite all that, i'm eager to meet new people. eager to accept people for who they are. eager to work through any issues in whichever capacity with others that i care for and love. i wish people would stay around long enough to bear those fruits of labour with me. slowly accepting the fact that not everyone will. i guess that shouldn't be the initial expectation when meeting people. it would do me wonders if i could fucking understand that, but god it is so hard when people misunderstand and jump to conclusions on your entire character based off of few interactions, or don't even bother to try at all. but shit... looking back, i can't say i'm entirely innocent of not doing either myself. gotta keep reminding myself that we're all flawed and going through this bullshit called life will bring the ugly out of all of us. but yea, despite all this, the love has been felt as of late. spending time around my brother and (surprisingly) my mom, as well as being around my good friend and her friends a bunch this summer has cheered me up noticably... slowlllyyyyy wanting to get back out there fr, but i'd really like to put some things into motion before i do, which brings me to....

life. -

ughhhhhhh. aaaAAAUUGHHHH. i just have this big ole back log of shit i've been putting off for so long. and its like, i know what i should be doing, how to do it, and more than capable of getting it done, but for so long just been paralyzed to do anything (unless absolutely necessary). i had a pretty good conversation with a friend of one of my good friends about this awhile ago. they called it decision paralysis, and i think that's an amazing way to explain what i'm feeling. it's like my brain does not know what to focus on at any given point and just freezes up in response. on top of that, the lack of energy and drive (esp. recently) makes trying to get things done even worse. what's funny though, is that this is the least of what i'm worried about. cuz i know the slightest pivot with a splash of consistency in routine would propel my life forward tenfold. like what i really want is within arms reach, i just want to get over some of these deeply seeded issues before really trying to go for it. need to, even. like if i could go outside without tearing myself apart over some spontaneous, maybe even awkward conversation, i think i'd be unstoppable. maybe. but anyways, despite how everything sounds life is... bearable. oddly pleasant, even. haven't gotten into all the new stuff i've bought, games i've played, things that have brought me joy over these months despite everything, but i think i'll get into that on other posts.

bleh.... i think thats everything. for now at least. now that its all out, i think its time i start carpe'ing some diem or something for once.

[saintmeghanmarkle]

Isolation backfire. by u/UnderArmAussie

Isolation backfire. I don't believe his story about the fight with William. I don't believe he was innocent in the altercation. It's well documented that he has an explosive temper. And I'm not biased on that, William has one too. I believe JH lost the argument, though.If he needs security, it's because he couldn't keep his mouth shut. He's his own worst enemy. I'm not sure she needs it at all. Sarcasm ahead... but who'd pay the ransom? The world would be saying it's all good guys, "Please keep her"!I have a father who cannot express emotion. To have my father leave notes on my bed, reaching out to me with thoughtful aplomb, would have left me so utterly grateful. Not Harry, though. Sometime down the line, I believe his own children will wish he managed half of what Charles did. He's an ugly man. No backbone, save the one others have been paid to provide him with. As with she, he seems to believe in his own importance simply for existing. Neither offer this world anything positive. It's all about what they can beg, borrow, steal, and grift.Her family wants to sue her for her lies. His family doesn't want his presence because he can't be trusted. A listers aren't returning their calls. They've been dropped by their business contacts. His friends have moved on. Her friends are whoever she can use this week. Next week, it'll be someone else. The Beckhams have millions. They've never been media whòres. Imagine believing so much in your own self-importance that you think they'd take time out of their day to leak something about you.They have no skill, no talent, and no worthwhile input. Just pie in the sky, ill thought through ideas they expect others to finance and graft for. For all the awards they accept, I cannot think of one thing they've achieved on their own merit. They believe being famous (or infamous) is enough. That doors will open, and money will come flooding in.She believed he would help her open those doors, and he believed she was helping him leave a concept he despised. But he opened few doors and she had an agenda. They both used the other, and both came up short.And even now, when it's abundantly clear that the interest in them is a wholly negative, slow motion train wreck, they still keep going. Good god, take the money you've made thus far, buy a remote ranch or move to Africa, and live a peaceful life. There is no comeback. Not in a positive way. No matter how many puff pieces get put out, or how many vulnerable (but rich) elderly people you exploit.Narcissists gradually isolate their victims to divide and conquer. To manipulate those around them so they have control. The irony here is that they've markled themselves. While others have grown closer, the only two people isolated are them. How it must feel to have missed the target and become a pariah. To know doing business with you is untenable. It doesn't matter how many fake awards you buy. You're untouchable.And it couldn't have happened to a nicer couple /s. post link: https://ift.tt/sqTcMk3 author: UnderArmAussie submitted: August 05, 2023 at 02:26PM via SaintMeghanMarkle on Reddit

[aurumacadicus]

Tony/Whoever You Want

Title: Black Usually Hides The Blood Better

Been thinking about WinterIronWidowShield lately 👀

Black Usually Hides The Blood Better

Tony caught him coming in from a mission. He stared at him from over the back of the couch, horrified.

“Tony, sweetheart," Bucky began.

Tony leapt up from the couch he was lounging on, turning to face him immediately. He held his book up threateningly, scowling. "Why did you call me that?!"

"...Because I love you," Bucky tried again.

"'Sweetheart' is what Steve uses," Tony cut in, waving his book threateningly. "Or 'honey,' sometimes. Natasha calls me 'котик' or 'сахарок.' You call me 'doll' or--" He paused, and then the book was slipping from his lax fingers, face going bone-white in shock. "Bucky, you're bleeding!"

"It's not my blood," Bucky began hurriedly.

Tony's mouth opened, but nothing came out.

Bucky stared at him, breaking out into a cold sweat. He'd thought he could sneak in while Tony was distracted by Natasha or Steve, but apparently neither of them were home. Normally Tony was never left alone, for his own safety--having three of the most dangerous people in the country sweet on him made him an excellent ransom prospect. They must have been secure in the knowledge that Tony was safe.

Bucky wished they'd texted him about the change in plans. "Normally you can't see all the blood," he finally said, feeling meek as a lamb.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN I NORMALLY CAN'T SEE ALL THE BLOOD," Tony bellowed.

"You know how I feel about Hydra," Bucky tried.

"I cannot believe," Tony began, seething.

Luckily, the door opened, and Natasha walked in. She looked just as shocked as Bucky. There was a large, dark stain on the side of her black satin blouse, but otherwise, she looked perfectly put together, but for a few wisps of hair flying free from her bun.

"Is that not your blood either," Tony asked, anger apparently forgotten in face of fear, voice shaking.

Natasha worked her jaw, considering, before she finally answered, "No, it's not."

"What the fuck," Tony began, backing away from them.

"Doll," Bucky started, taking a step toward him.

"Are you saying you always come home with blood on you? And I just haven't noticed?" Tony asked, voice cracking at the end.

Natasha held her hands out to him placatingly. "Not always," she said, in a way that was supposed to be soothing.

The way Tony looked like he was about to throw up made it clear that he didn't think it was soothing at all. "What the fuck are you guys doing?!"

Bucky was considering whether saying 'nothing' would get him punched in the mouth when the door opened again and Steve came in.

"...Seriously?" Natasha asked, unimpressed.

"Huh?" Steve replied, raising his eyebrows. He appeared oblivious to the blood soaking his too-tight white t-shirt.

Tony pointed at him and made a distressed squeaking noise.

“Oh! It’s not mine,” Steve said cheerfully.

“I keep telling you to wear black when you go out for jobs,” Natasha scolded him.

“It wasn’t a job,” Steve answered, scowling back at her. “And Tony keeps stealing my black sweaters.”

“YOU MEAN YOU GO KILL PEOPLE IN SWEATERS?!” Tony screeched.

“I like to be cozy,” Steve reasoned, and then, “And they’re not people. They’re Hydra.”

Tony let out a noise of disdain and stomped past them to the elevator. “No!” he barked when they went to follow him. “I need to go panic quietly by myself! Clean up your fucking mess!”

They looked down at the ground. Bucky’s saturated pants had left a puddle, and blood was still dripping from one of Natasha’s knives, and there were footprints where Steve had tracked through the castoff.

“Doll,” Bucky began, looking back up at him.

“UGH! I KNEW I SHOULDN’T HAVE DATED FORMER ASSASSINS!” Tony exclaimed before the elevator doors shut.

Steve stared at the door in offense. “I’m not an assassin! Former or otherwise!”

“So what the fuck happened,” Natasha asked, unbuttoning her blouse so she could peel it off and get it in some cold water to soak.

“I told you, Hydra,” Steve replied, shrugging. “It’s not my fault they threatened to kidnap Tony and turn him into their new Winter Soldier.”

“Nice,” Bucky said, holding his hand up for a high-five.

Natasha rolled her eyes. “Children, we have to figure out a way to make this up to Tony.”

“Why wasn’t one of you here to protect him, anyway,” Bucky asked, immediately on the offensive.

“I left him with Steve,” Natasha shrugged.

“I wasn’t even gone that long. I was just going to get him one of those danishes he likes because he felt sad and Hydra accosted me,” Steve huffed. “I didn’t make it to the bakery before it closed though.”

“Fucking Hydra,” Bucky and Natasha muttered, because Tony was much more amenable after a pastry.

[ibuki-loves-you]

SDR2 boys with an S/O who is like Mikan

Warnings: Mikan's personality/actions

Mod Ibuki: Back at it again with the Mikan series! I had absolutely no idea what to put for Nekomaru and Imposter Twogami, so please let me know if you want them I'll try to add them. Thanks for the overwhelming support, means so much! More to come, enjoy!

Hajime:

Instant protectivity

No fucking joke

As soon as you met, he was by your side 24/7 making sure no one bothered you

If anyone ever made fun of you, mean Hajime commence

"What did you just say? Do you know how rude that is? Back off, and don't come back. Don't let me hear you say that again."

If you ever took a fall in front of him, suggestive or not he'd pull you to him as soon as possible

"Shh, shh, it's okay. It's okay, don't worry. It was an accident, don't worry."

He found that petting your hair calms you down very quickly so he does that very often

If you ever offered to take your clothes off for him, he'd be opposed the minute the words came out of your mouth

"No, no no no. No, S/O. I don't need to have sex just because I'm in a mood. That's taking advantage of you, and I'd never do that. I love you, alright? Please don't offer that to me unless you yourself want it."

The one time you thought he was angry with you, he got very upset

"S/O, baby, no. I'm not angry with you, the others were just annoying me a bit. If anything, I'm a lot happier now that I'm with you." "R-Really?" "Yeah! I get so happy around you. I love you." "I-I love you t-too, hehe!"

Overall, Hajime is very protective and loves you very very much

He won't let anything happen to you

Nagito:

Nagito adored you the minute you met

Although he felt as if it was selfish, he wanted to be around you at all times

He just wanted to protect you

If anyone ever made fun of you, he'd scare them

No joke, Nagito can be very intimidating when he wants to be

"Hey, S/O! Get on all fours and bark like a dog!" "O-Okay..." "S/O, please don't. You don't have to do anything. As for you, you really must be pathetic. I'm gonna assume you're talentless. How worthless."

If you ever offered to take off your clothes for Nagito, he'd cry on the spot

"M-My hope, y-you don't have to do that just to make me happy! I-I don't want that! I'd much rather have a conversation than sex, especially because it's only to p-please me. P-Please don't offer yourself to me unless you w-want to do it with trash like myself..."

Nagito's self deprication would go through the roof if you thought he was mad at you

"W-What!? God I really am the worst, aren't I? I made you think I was angry with you! A-Angel! I promise, I am not mad at you! I-I don't think I have the ability to be mad at you! P-Please, don't ever think that. Never."

If you fell in front of him, he'd be very fast to pick you up, albeit with a red face

He never wants you to feel exposed or embarrassed

"Love, it was an accident. Please don't cry, it's okay."

Nagito would go to hell and back for you I swear

Kazuichi:

When Kaz first saw you, he was immediately attracted to you

Of course, when he got to know you he was concerned

Why were you so shy?

He stayed by you a lot to make sure you were alright

If someone started making fun of you, he'd immediately start screaming

"Hey!!! What's wrong with you!?! Leave them alone or else!!"

Sometimes it works sometimes it gets him laughed at

But it's the effort that counts

If you ever offered to take your clothes off for him, he'd get really confused

Like we're you asking for sex?

But then it clicked that you were trying to make him happy

"S/O, no. Never. Don't ever offer to do that for me because you think I want it. I don't! If you're gonna offer that, offer it because you want it!"

If you thought Kaz was mad at you, poor boy would be very confused again

"M-Mad? S/O I could never! Babe, I'm not mad. I can promise you that. Never ever! Never in a million years! How could I get mad at such a cute face?"

If you ever took a fall in front of him, he'd try to catch you but probably fail

Whether you fell in a suggestive position or not, he'll scream and squeeze you into his chest after the fall

"I got you, S/O! Don't worry!"

Kaz will protect and attack anyone who dares hurt you

Fuyuhiko:

Fuyuhiko got annoyed at first

He was very conflicted

Peko pointed out that he most likely had feelings for you

Ah, so that's why he felt those protective urges

If anyone ever made fun of you, Atua only knows if they made it out alive

"The fuck you just say!? You better take it back, bitch/bastard!! I'll fuckin' kill you!"

He definitely sent Peko on them after

If you ever took a fall in front of him, most of the time he'd catch you because he has fast reflexes

But if he didn't then he'd help you up as soon as you hit the floor

"S/O! You alright? How the hell did you manage that? C'mon, baby it's okay..."

If you ever thought he was mad at you, he'd blow up at himself

"I'm a fucking dumbass! God dammit! S/O, n-no, I'm sorry I didn't mean to scare you. Shit. I'm mad at myself, baby. I-I never want you to think I'm mad at you, because I'm not. That bitch Hiyoko pissed me off again, not you. I-I'm sorry I made you think that."

You offered to take your clothes off for him one time and one time only

He shut it down quick

"No, S/O. Don't offer that. Please don't, just don't. That's your body, and it's beautiful. It shouldn't be shown so easily. I love you so fuckin' much, and that's because of you, not your body. That won't please me, you yourself will."

Let him protect you, Fuyuhiko will never let anyone hurt you, ever

Gundham:

You were an interesting mortal

You managed to attract the dark lord to you with a mere look?

Impossible!

Gundham was around you very often

And if he wasn't one or more of his devas were

They loved you

People usually don't make fun of you

The way he carries himself keeps people away from you

If anyone ever tried to make fun of you (which is rare, Gundham is very intimidating even when he doesn't try), he would flip the fuck out

"Pardon!?! How dare you say such a thing to a wonderful person as themselves!? Must I harm you!? Fiend!!"

If you ever took a fall in front of him, he would try to catch you but would be too late

"H-Huh!? I-I'm sorry, my love. D-Don't fret, it is alright. It was an accident, d-don't cry..."

His personality gets so soft around you it's amazing

If you ever offered to take your clothes off for him, he'd freak out

"M-My love!? No, my dear. Your body is not what I wish when I'm in a foul mood. I wish for you and your comfort. Your body is far to beautiful to be shown to the eyes of others so willingly. Pick carefully who sees such a blessing sight."

If you ever thought Gundham was mad at you, he'd instantly try to soothe you

"Dearest, I may have a devilish temper, but never would it be caused by you. You are precious, far too much so for me to be angry at. I love you with all my heart, my dear. Please don't forget that."

Bless this boy <3

Izuru:

Izuru found you interesting

The minute he realized he wasn't bored by you, he was around you like a lost puppy

Your safety was his number one priority

If anyone ever tried to make fun of you, keyword tried, they'd have to be pretty bold

Izuru is fucking scary

"S/O~Can I have a little private show? It'd make me very happy~" "Repeat yourself." "..." "Go on. What's wrong?" "..." "That's what I thought. I ever catch you near them again and I will be sure to end your worthless existence."

Okay, you would never fall in front of him

He knows when it's gonna happen, so he literally always catches you

And when he does he knows you're embarrassed, so he pulls you to his chest and plays with your hair

"No need to be embarrassed, S/O. It's normal to fall. It is alright."

If you ever thought he was mad at you, he'd be a little upset actually

"I can assure you, I am not angry. I am actually a little upset right now. Weird..." "I-I'm s-sorry! I-I can't do anything r-right!" "I have never felt this before, so thank you. You can do no wrong, love. I promise. I barely get angry, let alone at you...I love you." "R-Really?" "Of course." "I-I love you m-more! Hehe!" "Impossible."

If you ever offered to take your clothes off for him he'd immediately deny you

"If we are going to do something so intimate I want it to be because both of us want to. Not because one wants to please the other. I don't need pleasing, having you in my presence is enough to make me feel, uhm, bubbly? I believe happiness. So, happy. Come here, I believe affection is needed here. I would like to hold you."

[eirikaanemo]

Can You Keep A Secret?

Warnings: imprisonment, mentions of starvation and sickness

Note: I haven't actually played Dvalin's quest but I tried to keep it as close to canon as possible. Feel free to leave a comment or message me if you see something wrong.

Venti x GN!Reader

1.9k Words

Your soulmate is secretly Barbatos... now what?

Everyone has a soulmate. And everyone is born knowing your soulmate's biggest secret. For most people it’s really unhelpful, but for some people it helps them find their soulmate. You’re in the latter group, because yours gives you a name.

You've known your whole life that your soulmate is secretly Barbatos. It's… interesting, to say the least. Of course you'd never dare to tell anyone. Thankfully, asking someone what their soulmate’s secret is isn’t very common. It’s considered to be very rude, so no one asks you what your secret is. They'd think you're crazy!

Barbatos hasn't been around for centuries and you're a mortal. This is the sort of thing you would read about in trashy romance novels! But even though it’s crazy and kind of overwhelming, you know it's true. You don't know if he'd ever accept you or want to be with you, in fact, you’re pretty sure he won’t, but you want to try.

Once that’s settled, you just have to find him. If he's anywhere, it's probably the city of Mondstadt. That’s where he seems to have shown up the most in the past, after all. So you move to Mondstadt. It’s a nice place and the people are friendly. Finding a job with the Knights of Favonius was fairly easy and it paid pretty well.

Unfortunately, the 'Storm-terror' problem starts shortly after you move. He throws the whole city into chaos the first time, and then proceeds to keep doing it regularly. The fear is all encompassing, but that's fine, you try to convince yourself. It will all be worth it when you find him. ‘If you find him’, your traitorous mind whispers.

It's been months, a year even, and you're starting to lose hope. How were you expecting to find Barbatos anyway? Shout from the rooftops for him to reveal himself and whisk you away? He hasn't been around for a long time and you knew that. And to be honest, at this point you've given up.

Going home is the logical thing to do, it’s where your family is after all. But you stay because you made yourself a home here. You have friends: Jean, Lisa, and Kaeya. You have come to love the city: music, freedom, and camaraderie. Well, you love the city except for the 'Storm-terror' attacks. Those aren't very lovable.

What concerns you the most though is that 'Storm-terror' is a dragon. And dragons trend to be important (like, archon important). But no one seems to remember this one. So you research. You visit the cathedral and speak with some nuns. You dedicate some time to listening to bard’s tales, asking them if they know any songs about dragons. One does, and it's surprisingly informational. You spend time at the library, pouring through book after book. And after all this investigation, you've come to the conclusion that 'Storm-terror' is actually Dvalin of the Four Winds. Not that anyone actually believes you

It didn't stop you from telling people your theory though, and being more respectful in how you refer to him, despite all the damage he's caused. Eventually they do start considering it and the city starts catching on. If you keep doing this, you may be able to change the city's perspective of and reaction to Dvalin.

The abyss mage catches on to this, and he just can't let that happen. It could compromise the whole plan. So one day he has Dvalin abduct you and locks you up. And true to your luck, this happens out of the blue while you’re taking a walk that you’d finally convinced Jean to go on with you. Which, of course, reverses all your progress and makes the situation even worse than it was before. Incidentally, this also does the exact opposite of what you’d been trying to do by stressing out poor Jean more.

The abyss mage doesn’t care about anything other than making sure you’re not able to go back to Mondstadt. The mage does not care about human necessities. Who cares if you die? Not him. He hates humans. It's kind of part of his job description.

Your prison is where Dvalin retreats to when not attacking. And the mage has to go report to someone else sometimes, giving you opportunities to speak with Dvalin. He never responds to you, but you can tell he eventually starts listening. You start by rambling about various subjects; then talking about how you know he's Dvalin, and that you're sorry he was being treated like he was, once you know he is listening. Because while you don’t know the whole situation, you know that he feels hurt by how humans have treated him.

After several days of talking to him, he slowly starts warming up to you. It’s a strange sort of bond that grows stronger as time goes on. He starts responding and the two of you actually have conversations instead of just you talking. Eventually you even mention how you know your soulmate is actually Barbatos and that you've kind of given up finding him.

He gives a thoughtful hum, lets you vent out your feelings, tries to think of an appropriate response, then allows you to drop the subject once you’ve worn yourself out emotionally. It’s becoming obvious that your health, physical, mental, and emotional, is degrading faster as time goes on.

One day Dvalin and the mage both disappear for longer than usual. After the mage makes sure you won’t be able to escape, of course. It’s not like you would’ve been able to leave anyway. At that point you’re not able to do much at all.

Little did you know that only Dvalin would be returning. They ended up facing the traveler and their companions in battle, and Dvalin was freed from the mage’s influence. The first thing Dvalin does is take them to help "the one decent human, that he actually cares about". You're in bad shape at this point, starving, sick, and weak. But you’re aware enough to hear Jean call your name and feel someone gather you in their arms before blacking out.

When you wake up you're at the cathedral and are feeling much better. Certainly you are not fully recovered, that will take weeks. That one bard who was able to play you a song about Dvalin is always there. You vaguely remember him being there when you were found. He doesn’t really interact with you much, he’s just kind of there, but he does play peaceful music that helps you fall asleep when you’re struggling to rest.

Then the day comes for you to go home. They’ve done all they can for you and you’re past the worst of it. But you’re well enough to be out and about. “Now you take care of yourself,” Barbara lectures you. “Don’t push yourself, get plenty of rest, drink lots of water, and eat three square meals a day, got it?”

“Got it,” you confirm. “Thank you for taking care of me, I really appreciate your help.” She smiles, wishes you well, and returns to the cathedral. You take a moment to breathe and just appreciate being back home, free of your prison and the small cathedral room they’d kept you in while treating you.

Taking a deep breathe you start on your way home. “Hey!” You hear someone exclaim behind you. “Could you hold on a second?” Turning around, you see the bard quickly excusing himself from a street performance before running to catch up to you. Once he’s caught up, he gives you a smile.

“Hi! I’m Venti the bard! Would you be willing to speak with me about something? It’s kind of private so we would need to go to windrise or something, but you’ll want to hear this, I promise.” He says. “Alright,” you agree, “but I can’t make it all the way to windrise. Would my home do? I live alone so we’ll have privacy.” He nods, “that’ll work great!”

The walk home is quiet but comfortable. The bard’s content to hum a tune as he follows you through the streets. Soon you’re home, unlocking the door to let you and your guest in. You lead him over to the couch where you both sit down. “So,” you say, “what did you want to talk about?”

“Well, I was talking with Dvalin a day or so after we freed both of you and he said you mentioned you came to Mondstadt searching for your soulmate. And that you said your soulmate’s biggest secret, the one that you know, is that they’re Barbatos,” he explains. You feel a pang of betrayal at Dvalin’s actions and some guilt for sharing your soulmate’s secret in the first place.

It probably showed on your face because he quickly spoke up again. “He didn’t just tell me for no reason though. You see, I am Barbatos. I’m your soulmate.” Your head, which had been drooping with the weight of your emotions suddenly shot up as you fumbled for a response.

Apparently that showed too because he continued, “And I’m sorry I made it so hard for you to find me. I’m sorry I almost made you give up on me. Most of my waking time is spent incognito so I can watch over everyone while not being put in a position of authority. I didn’t anticipate meeting you ”

There’s a moment or two of silence as you gather your thoughts. “It’s okay,” you assure him. “I understand why you did what you did and I’ll never hold it against you. How were you supposed to know I was even born yet, not to mention that I’ve been in the area searching for you.”

You take another moment or two to gather your wits. “I will also understand if you don’t want to do anything about this,” you state. “I don’t want you to feel forced into having a relationship with me if you don’t want to. The last thing I’d want to do is be responsible for making you miserable. And that’s not to mention how you’re an archon and I’m just a mortal.”

Your talking speeds up as you start rambling, losing control of the conversation as you feel more and more nervous. Once you realize you’re rambling you shut your mouth with a click. “Sorry about that,” you mutter. “I do that sometimes when I’m nervous.”

When you chance a glance at him, he honestly looks a little offended but mostly just really sad. “Is- is that really what you think I think about this?” He asks softly. “Because it’s not. I absolutely want this. I absolutely want you. I’ve been looking forward to this moment for millenia and I wouldn’t give this up for the world.”

He reaches over and slowly, hesitantly, so as to give you time to escape if you want, gathers you into his arms. You realize that he’s the one who picked you up to bring you home. Your ear rests against his chest as lean against him, and his heart skips a beat as you gently grab one of his hands and kiss it. “I’m glad,” you breathe. “I’m glad too,” he voices softly.

You yawn, feeling the exhaustion from your journey home and the rest of the day hit you. He pulls you close and whispers in your ear, “Sleep well, my cecilia, I’ll be here when the sun comes up and when you wake up.” You fall asleep to the sound of his heartbeat.