#and the overwhelming guilt and fear and hopelessness that came with it

[lcveblind]

HEADCANON. I think it’s safe to say that Ava has some mixed feelings over her kid. 

While the kid himself didn’t do anything wrong, the whole situation that led up to his birth (her ex ditching her despite sickly-sweet promises of staying together forever) and the current stress of working several jobs to keep them afloat is... taxing, to say the least. I don’t doubt Ava had some selfish thoughts regarding abandoning the kid herself, either. Especially considering her own mother did the same with her and her father.

Speaking of her kid, I? Don’t think she lets him live with her. If anything, she probably hires someone else to take care of him—-both due to her job as an escort and as someone who just. Doesn’t know how to be a mother.

[darkpetal16]

HC request! I've been talking with Mafiafell Wingdings on Character ai and had sort of therapy with him, where he "opened up" about his first murder and other stuff... So what about "first kill reaction" headcanon in Mafiafell? Other AU's too, if you want to

Undercut due to trigger warnings: domestic abuse, child abuse, murder, depression

To preface: All monsters feel physically ill the first time they obtain EXP. It’s an overwhelming, violating sensation that cuts through them like wind in a blizzard. It will always take time to adjust—to no longer feel sick—but how they feel over time with EXP changes on character.

Mafiafell Wingding (Don)’s first murder was their father. Their mother had died during Papyrus’ birth, and things were already difficult with his father. Their father’s temperament had worsened over the years, and being left a single dad had done nothing to soften it.

When their father’s anger got the best of him, there wasn’t anything they could do. He was a corrupted Judge, and one touch of his magic was enough to poison them and leave them sick for days.

It was, to Don, a hopeless situation. He could only think about growing up fast enough to get out of the house without being chased or followed. He felt helpless against everything that occurred.

And then that fear turned to anger.

Don wasn’t sure what truly triggered it. Was it the years of mounting resentment? The pain of several broken ribs? The shame and guilt clawing at him when he saw Sans’ newly formed fracture?

It was it seeing their father direct his anger toward an infant Papyrus?

Perhaps all of the above.

All he could say for certain was that it only took one moment for everything to change from dreadful terror to blind rage.

Their father’s back was turned. Don saw Papyrus under the water. Father’s hands were pushing the infant further under.

He knew what was about to happen.

He acted without thought.

It took one blow from behind to severe the head.

Don could never forget the look of surprise on their father’s face as his head hit the ground.

Or the way he smiled as he dusted.

-

Mafiafell Sans (Hit) was, ironically, around the same age for his first kill. Ever since their father passed away, Hit’s magic had been steadily increasing in power. It was a precursor to the Judge ability being inherited by him.

Part of that growth included unexpected outbursts of magic. Nothing dangerous so far: all outbursts had only resulted in furniture being cracked, or a little sting if someone was touching him at the time.

He didn’t know—

None of them knew—

. . .

How could they have known?

It was a quiet evening. He was on his way home after working at a hotdog stand all day, dead tired.

He had an outburst.

But that time his Judge ability hit a Royal Guard, one with several LVLs above him.

The more EXP someone has, the more powerful the ability works against them. A wild, uncontrolled, point-blank blast of the ability was enough to dust the guard.

This was, unfortunately, done in front of witnesses.

. . .

Don had to serve as a Royal Scientist, and Hit took on the Judge role at the age of thirteen.

Some days, Hit thinks imprisonment would have been kinder.

-

Mafiafell Papyrus (Boss) had a straightforward first kill.

A monster from the city was harassing one of the teenagers at Snowdin. The parents came to the Gasters for help, and Boss stepped forward to take care of it.

He didn’t set out to kill the monster. He meant to intimidate. But when he saw the look in heir eyes. . . He knew he couldn’t let that monster walk away.

It was a choice. It’s never one he makes lightly, but he will always stand by his decisions.

Was it wrong?

Maybe.

But it was his choice, and he does not regret it.

MASTERLIST

[caffeineinducedbeing]

who lives, who dies, who tells your story: chapter 7

--GUYS I FINISHED IT!! AFTER TWO YEARS!! what a journey wow, thank you for being so patient with me as I worked through what I wanted for this story, I'll likely add on a chapter or two because it doesn't quite feel complete yet, but until then, i hope you like this!! i put blood, sweat, tears, and 2 hours into this chapter.

---

Will awakens like a man who is drowning. Air and life surges into him, his mouth agape and gasping for it, his body feeling all but dead to the world.

He is not given the luxury of forgetting. The minute he gains awareness, it feels as if he had never lost consciousness at all. And oh, how his body aches, how the fog from the after-effects of the drug that Alaric had injected in him pollutes his brain, how his very soul radiates with suffering and pain as if it is all it has ever known. Nausea clings to the back of his throat, a migraine quick to assault him like a hangover he has never known before.

And his eyes weren't even open yet, his consciousness was only half received.

When they do open, they twitch in surprise. The room he's in isn't dark, and dusty, and horrific like the room he was so used to seeing.

This room he's in is bright, the walls painted a neutral tan color, and the windows covered with white curtains. The bed he's in is soft, and as he realizes that, it only seems to feel softer. His aching bones seemed to sink into the soft satin. This bedding was heaven compared to the shackles he had known in the last weeks.

His mind is flooded with memories, horrible, awful, painful memories, coming in flashes, but stopping short.

Alaric's death, his suicide... and then.... and then what else?

His memory was blacked out after that.

And then nothing.

Alaric's death... and

And now he's here in this tan room, with this soft bed, and these satin sheets. How can he be comfortable after that? How can he allow himself the luxury to be content and warm when he ruined a young man's life?

Will's heart pounds in his chest as the guilt came in relentlessly pounding waves, tidal waves sweeping over a raft, Will was suffocating, his breaths shallow and quick, sucking in like he would never breathe again.

You don't deserve that either, you destroyed them.

The weight of his actions, the flashes of painful memories, it was too much for him. With trembling hands he reaches for the satin sheets, feeling the softness beneath his fingers. But instead of finding comfort in it as he did earlier, he feels only disgust at his own contentment.

In a fit of panic and useless self-loathing Will tears the sheets from the bed, flinging them across the room without thinking twice. His breaths come in ragged gasps as he struggles to contain his overwhelming emotions; his fear, his anguish, his grief, his guilt, oh! his guilt! It hurts! They consume him, he tries to fight but he's too weak, he's too tired, too hopeless. They win, and he sweeps his arm over the bedside table, sending trinkets and medicine bottles crashing to the floor.

Every object he touches feels like a reminder of his failure because he's alive. He's alive and feeling things and sleeping in this comfortable room, and that man, no that boy is dead. Alaric is dead.

He's failed so many times in his life, failings that hurt people failings that hurt him, mistakes that killed people. And yet this is so different, so different that he feels that he's at the breaking point. How can he ever go back to being a ranger after this? He no longer trusts himself.

His vision blurs with frustration and pain, and he continues to lash out at the various objects in the room, unable to quell the storm of waves inside of him. The curtains catch his eye, billowing in the gentle breeze from the outside. Without a second thought, he tears them from the window, ripping them to shreds in a mad frenzy.

As the fabric falls to the floor, the exhausted man collapses against the window sill, his breath coming in harsh, ragged, uneven gasps. He stares out at the rising sun, its warm light casting shadows on the tan walls in the room, and at that moment, everything stills. The beauty of the dawn demanded respect as it recited its morning sonnet over the Redmont hills. Who was he to deny it?

Everything was calm, Will's heart started to slow and return to its normal beat, and his mind found peace amid the chaos it had been imprisoned in for so long.

Footsteps approach from behind, and he barely notices them until they're right beside him. Will tenses, expecting reproach or pity. But when a large warm hand places itself gently on the ranger's shoulder, he looks up and meets Horace's understanding and warm gaze. Will's tears flow freely now, unchecked and unguarded, as he struggles to find the words to express the turmoil he's feeling.

"It wasn't your fault ya know," Horace's voice is soft but steady, cutting through the haze in Will's head.

"You did everything you could." He finished.

Will shakes his head violently, wincing as he finally notices the headache that probably won't go away for a while. "Obviously not enough," he whispers hoarsely, his voice raw with pain and emotion, "I destroyed that family Horace. Single-handedly, I destroyed them."

Horace's grip tightens in an attempt at comfort, "You did what you could Will, some people... are just beyond the material help we can offer. That man was insane. Halt and I both believe that there is nothing anyone could have said or done, to ensure his sanity and salvation."

He was quiet, so Horace continued hesitantly, "Besides it's probably.... better off... this way."

Will looks up slowly at him, his eyes fixated on him in a way that almost made Horace uncomfortable.

"Better off this way?" He repeated, his voice emphasizing each word.

Horace made a helpless gesture, "C'mon Will, I mean the man was psychotic, and very obviously depressed. Yes, it's a tragedy what happened but--"

"But nothing Horace!" Will shoved his hand off his shoulder, "But absolutely nothing! You're saying that that man was better off dead than alive!?"

It was more a statement than a question, and Horace didn't feel compelled to answer.

"He nearly killed you Will, he plotted this for years, exacting how to get the best revenge on you, how to murder you in the most satisfying and effective ways possible. And who knows what else he's done over the last ten years! He was a criminal, Will! That much was obvious."

"He didn't deserve to die." Will's voice was dangerously low, and that, more than anything, drew Horace to caution.

He raised his hands in a surrendering gesture, "Look Will, I'm not undermining any sort of history you had with that guy, what I am doing is stating cold, hard facts. And the facts are, this man tried to murder you in cold blood, for revenge for you killing his mother ten years ago, who also happened to be a murderer! And yeah I know, nothing is ever this black and white, but nothing about this situation is normal, Will, so in this case, I think it pretty much is."

Will's gaze was fixated once again on the skyline.

"You did what you could for him, but ultimately, he chose what he chose. And you couldn't have done anything about it. I know you feel guilty about all this, but I promise you, brother, whatever it is you're going through, we're gonna work through it together. Alright? Please, Will."

Will's knuckles were white on the windowsill, his whole body trembling, and the tears streaking uncontrollably down his bruised cheeks. Horace's words echo in his mind, each one striking a nerve he didn't know he had. He wants to scream, to punch someone, to lash out at the unfairness of it all, but deep down he knew Horace was right.

Taking a deep breath, he steadied himself and forced his gaze upward to meet Horace's once more. Horace's eyes are filled with concern compassion, and pleading. That broke Will's heart. His best friend was pleading with him to see clearly. And despite the utter uproar in his mind, he found himself nodding slowly in agreement.

"Alright," His voice breaking, "Alright Horace we'll work through it together."

His friend's expression sags with relief, and he pulls Will into a side hug, holding him close as they watch the sunrise together.

And Will feels the slightest, faintest, prayerful glimmer of hope inside his chest.

Neither of them notices the grizzled ranger leading in the doorway, observing the events unfolding.

Halt's heart was heavy with grief for his former apprentice, he knew there were no easy answers to this, no easy path to healing. But they've been in situations like this before, and just like always, Will will come out the other end of this hellhole, likely stronger than before. And Halt will be standing by Will's side, like always, suffering alongside him because there's nothing he can do to alleviate it.

Will's pain was Halt's pain, Will's burdens were Halt's burdens. It's the way it's always been since Will was 15 and young and naive.

With a final glance at the two brothers, watching the sun rise over a new day, Halt turns and leaves the room, silently promising to himself that he'll do whatever it takes for Will to find peace again.

[sadcloudclub]

life happens for you, never to you

I have a nature of “running” away. Yes, I’ve ran away as a teen before, literally. But I’m referring to the “abandon your entire life and go elsewhere” thinking my problems would stay at my last residence. HA. I was so wrong.

I’m not sure I can talk on home or stability because those two things are foreign to me. Despite a very toxic household growing up, on my 13th birthday (wow, the Death card in Tarot just came to mind. Wow.) I pretty much lost everything except the clothes on my back. I’m talking family, sense of normalcy, my toys, house, clothes, etc. It shook me to the core and I was extremely confused. That event forever set my life into an insecure and unstable rollercoaster.

Here I am twice as many years later and finally coming to the conclusion that I need to break this pattern. The pattern of “loss”. I cycle more than a goddamn bike. It’s tiresome and I’m not getting ripped leg muscles from it, so it’s a lose-lose situation. The pattern typically goes: I am able to get a job, take care of my self and build on that. Maybe I get a new place to live, so I’m independent and feeling oh so good! Finances are good, I’m up to date on all payments, and I’m able to treat my self now and again. Of course during all these trials, I am working a job aka under someone else. But regardless I am doing well and feeling hopeful for my future.

Now y’all, bare with me as I’m still unraveling and dissecting this part of me. Trauma comes in layers, like a Tiramisu (just not as sweet). For a few months, sometimes up to a year, I will feel great and all seems wonderful. Somewhere in there, I get triggered. Looking back, maybe I feel overwhelmed with responsibility, maybe I’ve grown tired of answering to someone who doesn’t give a shit about me. Either way, I feel this life is unbearable and without warning I drop. Faint. Collapse. However you want to put it, I quit every thing, entirely, all at once. And yes, I quit my job, terminate my lease (not cheap, and I do not recommend). Pretty much, I abandon ship. (I don’t even like boats.)

This has been a cycle for over 14 years. I’ve moved over 11 times in the past 14 years. To different states across the country. I’ve worked a plethora of jobs from food industry to retail. This constant uprooting leaves me feeling unsafe, as if nothing will last for me. I’m still attempting to retire the idea of “what’s the point” that rings in my head now and again. It felt like no matter where I went, no matter what I did, nothing was mine. No house could be a home. No job could be a career. No friendships would be long term. I felt so alone and lost. Why have me on this planet to feel so hopeless?

This most recent time was like age 13 but on steroids. It’s different losing everything with people, but to lose it all by yourself- to go through that all by yourself. It’s devastating. My closest friend is a state away. My hometown is over 1,000 miles away. When I say “I’m out here” I really do mean that.

I was working what seemed like a promising job but it was getting too toxic. Long story short, they expedited my two weeks (out of retaliation if we’re being 100% honest). Right before then, literally a month before, my car was stolen and totaled. I was living in uninhabitable living conditions that apparently is not a concern to anyone except me. I felt very stuck. My entire world came crashing down on me again. Except this time, I didn’t have a relative I could stay with. I didn’t even have a car to go get groceries with. It was the most trying time and I didn’t want to live anymore (another cycle).

Everyone seemed to flee and no one could help me. There was also the guilt of my situation and me not knowing how to escape it. I had to let my walls down to get support because this felt greater than me. And though I received some help, it still was excruciating. I, too, had to set boundaries/cut off some people due to them projecting my fears back to me. I was already in a delicate headspace but having someone you’re looking to for support say “that won’t work out for you” is a no-go, homie.

During this time of struggle, I said I need to do something to prevent this. You know, when you look yourself in the mirror and say “I can’t keep living like this, I can’t.” (High Fashion x Roddy Ricch). I do not ever want to be in this position again. But in order to end a cycle, you have to recognize why it is repeating. What did I do? The only thing I could- sit with this shit.

I meditated heavily, twice a day for around an hour. I made my self a schedule. I drank tea and journaled about every thing. I talked to my self, out loud. I pulled tarot cards and prayed for guidance. Affirmations became a ritual every morning and as I feel asleep. Losing every thing I had caused me to lose my sense of self. Who am I when my entire identity is stripped away? I can’t look outside my self and expect to receive that answer, because the external is a reflection of my internal. On some “as above, so below; as within, so without” shit.

I realized a few things. One: I don’t want to spend another fucking second working for someone else. Two: I can have the absolute best of the best. I deserve all that good shit. And three: The only thing cock-blocking me from my success is me. No one else matters. With these realizations, I vowed to my self that I’m going to replenish all that I lost but in a more fulfilling way. It’s like clearing house to make room for the upgrades. Think 5 of Cups energy- not all is lost. Because even though my reality was annihilated, my soul desires were able to shine through. I can see now, looking back, that none of that shit- not the job, the car, the people I was surrounding my self with- were in alignment for my higher good. I do believe every soul I cross holds a lesson for me to learn.

It’s been a rigid, bumpy ass ride to where I’m currently at. Shit, might even have whiplash if I’m keeping it real. But I know that how I feel should always prevail over what an external force suggests. At the end of my life, no one will be dying with me. No one will be looking back at my life and regretting the opportunities I missed. I ain’t taking that to the grave, I will not shrink for anyone. I know I am fully capable of achieving every thing I dream of. So if you’ve been stuck/hopeless lately, and if you’ve been drowning in losses- remember that there’s a lesson in this. Breathe, breathe, breathe. A loss is a redirection, which you most likely will not see at the time. You matter and without you here, the whole earth could be thrown off it’s orbit. So hang the fuck in there because we need you.

[saphirered]

I Don’t Hate You (Vagrant pt3.)

The lady at the front desk gives you a dirty look as you come straggling in, leaving a wet trail behind you, boots sopping with an equally disgruntled expression on your face. You toss her a coin, if only to be done with it all and go back up the stairs. There you see, Fjord is no longer sitting in the hallway and probably either has gotten himself a room of his own or Molly’s taken mercy upon the half-orc and let him sleep peacefully and undisturbed in their shared room. A sense of dread still lingers as you approach your door and you take a sip from the opened bottle in your hand, hoping to find some courage to push you over the edge and just get it over with. You can see the hint of orange light bleeding through the small gap. 

When the door opens Caleb looks up from his book, or well, your book. You look like an absolute mess and he knows you know you do. It’s an unspoken agreement to not comment on this fact made in that brief moment of eye contact, for both of your sakes. 

“Do not question my terrible life’s choices, Widogast.” You grumble as you let yourself fall backwards on your bed. You don’t even have the energy to magic away the remainders of the rain that kept you company from your soaked person. Well, that or the fact that the droplets rolling down your skin hid the tears from the panic attack and brief existential crisis you had on that rooftop before you came down. 

Caleb puts down the book, gets up from the bed and slowly and carefully inches over to your side of the room. He hesitantly sits down on the edge. You have half the mind to kick him off just because but can’t find the energy to do so. Despite your distaste for magic users like him, being alone after your mental breakdown you just experienced, really sucks. Caleb pats your knee awkwardly in an attempt to comfort but not wanting to cross any boundaries. It’s pathetic, he knows because one can hardly fix a stab wound by slapping on a bandaid. His own past experiences have left him a tad bit at a loss when it comes to comforting a person in pain, especially one so stubborn and crass as you have been towards him. 

Still, Caleb has figured out your hatred isn’t directed at him personally. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out it’s people with abilities like him that have played a part in your past causing you pain and suffering and the wound is still very fresh, hence your trauma being reflected onto him, despite his complete lack of involvement in your before the moment you met. It may not have helped that your hostility towards him hasn’t exactly encouraged him to try and build a proper relationship with you. He hardly even knows you yet still he feels as if he knows your tells, the things you go through and why you act like you do. He may not know the details of your life but he feels safe to say he knows you better than any of the others. 

It’s not his lack of knowledge and insight into your life beyond what’s surface and what he can read off you that holds him back. It’s the fear of what he might find within you that will tear open wounds of his own he’s worked so hard to cover up. It’s the fear you might be one step ahead of him in a similar story and there is no hope for people like you and him after all. It’s the fear those you run from are the same people he has tried so hard to escape. It’s the fear of you, that you might be each others’ salvation, or undoing because he knows what he has the capability to become, what you could become. 

But here you lie, upon your bed curled up, traces of tears long since fallen, possibly even ran out, tightness in your throat, indents of your nails in your palms from clenching too much, frustration and anger in your eyes is still overwhelmed by pain and hopelessness and a wish the void would just come and claim you, where you no longer fear the consequences of running and will be able to obliterate those who caused you so much hurt, or die trying in the process. Caleb is reminded of himself in that cell of his own, for years, a broken mind piecing itself together from the shambles it was left in, barely a shell of what it used to be. 

When he promised himself he would do anything and everything in his power to take down these tormentors and their accomplices so no one would ever have to suffer like he had, still is suffering, Caleb didn’t expect to find you. He still remembers himself begging, praying, screaming just to not be alone, to have someone tell him there is still hope and not all is lost. There’s still good in this wretched world and if the world turns bleak, it’s up to you to be that good despite everything. Those were the pretty words and empty promises of a dreamer but does that make them a lie? 

“Don’t patronise me. I’m not some fragile broken child in need of mothering.” Caleb retreats his hand, clasping them together in his lap as he studies your face. Your eyes are cold, your expression matching. A mask, he knows. A way to protect yourself. 

“Good. Because I have no intention of doing so. I want you to be blunt and truthful and I don’t want you to hold back. I want you to humour me and answer some questions.” You raise an eyebrow expecting there to be something behind Caleb’s request but his stare is unreadable, like a practiced mask of his own. 

“You want me to be blunt and give you a peace of my mind?” You humour. You’ll tell the asshole okay. You’ll bicker and fight and quarrel if that’s what he wants no problem. Maybe a battle of wits and words will get you back into your groove. 

Little do you know that is in fact not what Caleb is looking for. Not exactly. He isn’t looking for a fight. He’s looking for answers, how to help you despite your differences because no one deserves to go through this, especially not alone. So because of that, he will not humour you in turn with his usual reply to your attempts to push him. He doesn’t intend this to end in another futile empty argument. Not now. So he’ll drop the game and go straight for the jugular. 

“Why do you hate me?” You freeze at the abrupt and sudden question. Caleb knows you don’t really hate him personally but coddling you won’t work and some things you’ll have to realise by yourself first. Finding the strength to lean up on your elbows you tilt your head at him as a half smirk creeps upon your lips.

“Because you’re an egotistical self-serving bastard who cares for nothing but himself and the people useful to him, until they outlive their usefulness.” The words are meant to cut like knives and usually you’d get a rise out of Caleb by such a statement but when you don’t see any response to your words, nothing but those blue eyes staring into yours so… unbothered, it feels as if those knives are turned onto you instead. You’re not quick enough to get rid of that tiny hint of guilt slithering across your features. 

“Why do you hate me?” Caleb asks again, voice still calm like it’s the most unremarkable question ever. He could have asked you about the weather with that tone. 

“Because you’re an asshole.” 

“Why do you hate me?” 

“Seriously? I already gave you an answer. Was I not clear the first time?” That guilt in your stomach starts growing, festering. There’s something in your mind pushing through but you try to fight it off, not liking the thought of being faced with those emotions. You’ve worked too hard to push them away. 

“Just answer the question. Why do you hate me?” Caleb sees you struggle. Your first answers where in the blink of an eye, a defence mechanism slipping into place. That works, for a while, until it doesn’t, until you start questioning it and give yourself a moment to think.

“Because…” Because you’re a coward. Because you run from your problems. Because you leave other people to swipe up the mess for you. Because you’re a monster to blame for the pain of others. Because you’re to blame for your own pain. Because you couldn’t save them. Because. Because. Because. Those are not reasons you hate Caleb. You take in a sharp breath, clenching your jaw in anger, nose scrunching holding at bay the curses from passing your lips and the threat of all your emotions from spilling out like a breaking dam. 

“Why do you hate me?” The words now, do not sound void of emotion, but instead are filled with a warmth and pity. Damn him! Damn him to the hells and abyss! When you don’t answer he repeats it again. Caleb gives you amicable time to answer, leaving a long silence to give your mind the time and space to think for itself, analyse and process and you hate every second of it because you can’t stop it. The cracks in the walls you’ve tried to hard to build become more apparent by the second. He asks again. 

“I don’t bloody hate you!” You shout, pretty sure you may just have woken up the entire floor. The silence after the words leave your lips is deafening. 

“Then what do you hate about me that causes you to act the way you do?” Your hands clench back into fists, your nails pressing down again in the still tender skin from but minutes ago. You don’t want to say it. You really don’t but that pain raging through your body wants to get out and you feel the floodgates opening inch by inch despite your efforts to fight it. Then there’s that voice in the back of your mind; maybe speaking the unspoken will give you some peace. 

“I don’t hate you! I just hate what your remind me of. It’s like you’re here to personally torture me so please just leave me alone to suffer, get over it and move on.” You don’t want to remember the last time you pleaded for something, and had hoped to never plead for anything again yet here you are. 

“I am going to give you a choice and I’ll only offer it once, so listen very carefully.” You’ve never seen Caleb look so intense, so genuine, and so determined. You can’t do anything but listen so you nod, signalling him to continue and that you’re paying attention to his every word and not to twist them for your own amusement for once. Whatever previous relation, or rather lack thereof you’ve had is gone now. There’s only you two, in a place of vulnerability and without judgement. 

“You’ve got two options. One; you tell me to piss off, like you usually do. I’ll go back to bed, back to sleep and leave you alone. We will never speak of this again, never mention this and go our separate ways. We will remain cordial when interacting and won’t let our own grievances get in the way of the others.” You take in the words, nodding to confirm you understand. 

“Or two; you and I are going to talk. You are going to tell me what you wish, and can tell me provided it’s the truth and I will listen. If you wish to tell me your life story I will listen. If you wish to tell me all your troubles I will listen. If you wish to share your pain, I will listen. And know that I will help you if you’ll allow me to. Because if you keep doing this on your own, let the guilt and grief and pain swallow you whole, I know exactly where it will lead. Do not allow it to be your undoing, or turn you into a person beyond your recognition.” Midway through his offer your eyes have closed and your brow furrows. You bit your lip and that combined with the movement of your eyes behind your eyelids are the only indication to Caleb you’re still listening to him. 

Caleb gives you time. He doesn’t expect an answer right away. That’s not how this works but he does study you, attempting to get an inkling of what’s going through your mind. He feels warmth wrap around his wrist, glancing down to notice your fingers have wrapped around it and hold on tightly. You’re holding onto a lifeline and he knows it. 

“Why?” Your, words a pained choke, you don’t dare open your eyes, don’t trust the look in Caleb’s eyes to tear down what last defences you had up and turning you into even more of a broken mess. 

“Because despite what people might have you believe, there is still good in this world.” You’re unable to stifle a sob, feeling a tear slide down your cheek. 

“I’ve not known much kindness in my life but I feel confident in saying this is the kindest thing anyone has ever offered me. It’s why my pervious actions and words towards you make me feel like an absolute ass even more. I hope you find it in yourself to forgive me.” You release Caleb’s wrist, feeling grounded once more despite the buzzing in your head and twiddle with your fingers awaiting a response, the tense air slowly lifting as you sit in peace and silence. 

You nod, wiping at the corners of your eyes before you open them, a bit more red and puffy than they were before you entered the room. You finally look at the wizard and take in a deep breath before nodding again. If it were anyone else, any other moment you might have said no. You’d even have laughed at whoever tried this emotional shit on you. But it’s time. You’re not getting any better nor can you repress everything forever. It’s time to face some of these troubles head on. Luckily you won’t have to do it on your own. It will take time and effort and it’s going to hurt like hell but it has to be done. You have to move on and learn how to live. You owe it to yourself, if not the people you’ve left behind. 

“Now this doesn’t mean we’re going to be best friends from now on. You’re still an asshole and so am I so don’t think I’ll let you off easy for your comments and the trouble you cause.” The corner of Caleb’s lips turns up slightly as he speaks and you mimic his expression.

“I don’t think anyone else could handle it, so I’m sorry to disappoint but you’re definitely stuck with me, Widogast.” You muster a smile, exhausted. It’s mutually understood the conversation as per your agreement won’t happen right here, right now but instead when you’re both ready. For now, at least you won’t pretend to hate each other anymore and start over. 

“Hey, Caleb?” You ask.

“Yes?” He answers but before he knows it your arms wrap around him and pull him into your embrace. Caleb’s form goes rigid shocked by not only the gesture but by the physical touch itself. After a good few moments he finds himself ease just a little, enough to return the embrace lightly.

“Thank you.” You whisper.

[yourmidnightlover]

three, four squeezes

Summary- spencer finds watches you take what he thought was your last breath. turns out they weren't, but you're now in a coma. 

TW: coma, fem!reader, spencer pining, angst/fluff ig?, blood, gunshot

WC- 5,681

masterlist

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guilt.

regret.

pain.

fear.

spencer couldn't stop fiddling between as he rode with you in the back of the ambulance.

the guilt he felt as he realized that everything was his doing, his fault. if he wouldn't have froze and if he would've told you how he felt neither of you would be in this position.

the regret he had of never telling you how he felt. he never got to hold you as more than best friends and kiss you like he's wanted to so, so, so many times.

the pain of seeing you in so much pain. and the fear that worsened when you accepted the fact that you would die in his arms

the fear that the last time he held you was when you confessed your darkest secret to him. you never got to hear him tell you how much he truly loved you.

he took your much smaller hand in both of his and pressed it close to his chest, right on top of his heart as if he was trying to tell you what his heart had tried to make him.

he froze.

he shouldn't have froze.

he should've held you and told you how much he loved you. how much he wanted you. how much he's always wanted you.

he should've kissed you and never let you out of his sight. because maybe, just maybe, if he hadn't let you go then you would have never gotten hurt.

he was the reason you were dying.

he was lost in thought when the holter monitor held a steady, long beep. you had flatlined.

-

you felt the warmth radiating over your skin as you shifted in your position to sit up. you took in your surroundings.

you were in an endless pasture, filled with tall grass that would reach your knees if you had stood up. the sky was perfect, clear, baby blue color that you haven't seen in a while. you were laying on a red blanket with a picnic basket by your side.

the smell of fresh flowers and fresh grass filled your nose. the calming scent bringing you the peace that radiated around you as you observed further into this place.

you had on a flowy, pastel purple sun dress and a pair of white flats on. you turned your head to the side, only to notice you weren't alone.

"spencer!" you cheered excitedly as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him into your touch. "you're here," you breathed out.

"i am here," you felt the vibrations of his chuckle. "but you shouldn't be here."

you pulled back and looked at him confused. "wh-why not?"

"because," he pushed a strand of hair out of your face as he gazed into your eyes. "you need to go back, sweetheart."

a rush of memories flooded your brain.

you confessed your past, your regret, your love.

he didn't love you back.

you were shot.

"i... i don't want to go back," you admitted with furrowed brows. "i want to stay here. with you."

he looked at you with what seemed to be pity. he scooted closer to you and wrapped his arm around you to pull you closer to his body.

"you can be with me back there. you know that," he said as he rested his chin on the top of your head.

"no, i won't. not-" you took a deep breath, "not like this."

"but this isn't even real. i'm just a figment of your imagination. you're disassociating with your body, and i'm your safe place," he said nonchalantly, as if hearing that didn't break your heart even more.

"but i want to be with you, spence. i've ruined everything out there. you don't want me," you spilled, letting a tear slip past your eye and down your cheek.

"i will always want you, y/n. always," he assured you as he pressed a kiss to your hairline.

"how do you know?" you looked up at him with pleading eyes.

"because i'm a genius. remember, sweetheart?" he chuckled.

"promise me?" you said as you turned around and held his hand, squeezing it in anticipation.

"i promise. go back, y/n. you need to go back." he repeated.

"not yet. just a little longer with you, please. just a little longer with you," you pleaded.

-

spencer had to let go of your hand so the doctors could get the defibrillator. he began shaking before he told himself to be strong. he had to be strong for you.

"please don't leave me..." he prayed for the first time in a while to a god he wasn't even sure he believed in. "don't die on me."

one of the paramedics ripped your shirt open so they could begin to start the chest compressions. spencer hated seeing you so helpless, lifeless, hopeless.

"charge to 260!" one of the doctors yelled before yelling clear and connecting it to your skin.

nothing.

"charge to 350!" she pressed it to your chest and abdomen one more time.

suddenly the monitor began beeping steadily again. you were alive. not okay, but you were breathing.

you had a heartbeat again.

you weren't leaving him yet.

"oh thank god!" he exclaimed as he watched the paramedics leave your side, allowing him to fill their void. he took hold of your hand once again and pressed his lips to it as he watched the paramedic on the other side of you monitoring everything going on with your status.

"thank you, y/n. thank you so much," he placed another kiss on your knuckles as he used his to wipe his tears away.

when you had made it to the hospital he decided to finally call morgan and garcia. he would let them know what happened, minus the whole love confession part, and ask them to alert the rest of the team.

morgan replied in asking if she was okay, and asked for the details later when he got there. garcia was just rushing to get out of her apartment and to the hospital to check on her 'little cherry blossom.'

garcia got there first no doubt breaking a few speed limits in the process, but he didn't mind because now he wouldn't be alone with his own mind. she engulfed spencer in her arms and let him sob it out as she did the same. she didn't ask what happened, she knew he would tell her when he was ready.

morgan took a bit longer, surprisingly. although, in his defense, he did live on the other side of town. upon arrival, he just placed a firm hand on spencer's shoulder and sat beside him in a seat, silently providing his own comfort.

jj was next to arrive. she was already in tears when garcia had called her to make her aware of the news. she gave spencer a tight hug before sitting beside garcia.

when emily got there she raced to jj to ask if they had any information yet, they didn't. she checked on spencer, making sure he wasn't losing his mind completely. she finally settled down and sat beside jj, placing a comforting hand on top of hers.

rossi and hotch arrived at the same time, they were both working late, finishing a few extra case files. they went around comforting the rest of the team, and made sure to pay extra attention to spencer.

everyone knew how close the two of you were. you were like bonnie and clyde, but rather you both solved crime instead of ensuing it. and they knew how much it pained him to see her in pain. even on cases when she would get wounded, spencer would pay the utmost care and attention to you.

spencer didn't say a word. he didn't say what happened. nobody asked. they sat in silence, with almost constant tears from the fear of losing you, waiting for answers to how you were doing.

after a few more hours, jj decided to ask the doctor yet again on any updates on your condition. she quietly got up after letting go of emily's hand and walked over to the front desk.

"ma'am," jj asked the receptionist, "is there any update on y/n y/l/n and her surgery. it's been a few hours now and we're getting wo-"

"y/n y/l/n?" a doctor came into the waiting room holding a clipboard, waiting for someone to claim her company.

spencer jumped up from his seat when he heard her name. everyone had refrained from using in fear of striking something in spencer. they didn't want to upset him more than he already was, so they just kept their mouths shut.

"yes?" he excitedly asked, feeling the sweat in his hands and the exhaustion overwhelming his body.

"she's out of surgery now. she's in a stable condition, but there's some bad news," the doctor grimaced as the others waited expectantly for the rest of the news. "she had a prolonged period of time without oxygen to her brain, she's now in a coma. we aren't sure when she'll wake up," the doctor finally spewed out. "you can go visit her now. maybe one at a time so she can decipher who's who. she can hear what you say, so make it positive and encouraging," he concluded.

spencer looked back at the team, waiting for them to signal that he could go visit her before following the doctor to your room.

spencer walked inside and saw you lying there, lifeless while barely alive. and it was all his fault. you told him it wasn't his fault. in what you thought were your last moments, you wanted him to be at ease. while you were bleeding out from his stupidity, you still claimed your love that he never told you he returned.

and for that he would never forgive himself.

oh, what he would give to hear your laugh again. to see your smile, feel your touch, smell your hair once more. he wanted you back.

so he did the only thing he could do. he sat by your side and grabbed your hand for the millionth time and held it to his cheek, trying to feel your warmth.

"hi, y/n," he started off, deciding to give this whole 'encouragement' thing a try. "there are a lot of studies on whether or not someone can hear whilst their in a coma, but i'm going to try it anyway," he tool a deep breath.

"you're the strongest woman i know, and i meant it when i told you that earlier tonight. i know that you can get through this. i want you to know that i'll be here for you every step of the way. i promise. i-i'll take off every day until you wake up. i have to take a sabbatical anyway, so i can just ask them if i can take it early. if i can't then i'll make garcia come here every single day and i'll call her so you can hear my voice," the tears filled his eyes once again.

"i-i need you here with me, y/n. please," he begged for what felt like the millionth time that night.

"spence," jj called from the doorway. "would you mind if we all talked to her for a minute? then you can come back? i need to get back to my boys now that i know she's going to be okay," she said with a bit of guilt at the thought of her being able to go home.

home to her husband and children.

y/n has always wanted children. she'd be such an amazing wife, and an even better mother. spencer wanted the chance to witness her being a mother first hand, and maybe even being the mother to his own children.

he wanted to give her everything she's ever wanted. he wanted to stay with her until he was forced to have to leave.

truth be told, the day you walked into the bau, you changed his life forever and he didn't even know it. he thought it was just going to be another temporary fill in, until you performed so well at your job that the bau just had to hire you permanently.

you're so amazing at everything you do. everything you've ever done. you always push yourself to be and do your best, something spencer has grown to love and admire you for.

so he just hopes you have a reason to fight. a reason to fight for your life, to fight for him. he hopes that you have hope.

"yea, of course," he pressed his lips to your knuckles one more time before leaving the room, hugging jj on the way out.

garcia was right outside the door, waiting for spencer to come out so she could give him a hug. she wrapped her arms around his torso as his went around her shoulders.

"she's strong, spencer. she'll get through this," garcia tried to comfort him.

"you should've heard her. she-she sounded like she was ready to give up hen she was lying there, bleeding out on the ground," spencer pulled back to look at garcia. "i can't lose her. n-not now."

"you won't lose her," she placed a comforting hand on his shoulder before he nodded to her and walked back into the waiting room, being met by emily's own embrace.

"i'm not gonna tell you how strong she is, because i think we all know that by now. but you can talk to me, reid. that's what you have to know. you can talk to any of us," she consoled before pulling back, her hands still gripping his shoulders tightly.

"sh-she told me she was in love with me," he said out loud for the first time.

"what?" emily's eyes widened at the realization before she pulled his hand to go into an empty room. "explain, please?"

"she told me she was in love with me," he repeated. "and i froze," he sighed.

"you froze? what do you mean? i thought you loved her too?" she pondered, a confused look clouding her face.

"how'd you know that? and yea, i do love her. i love her so much it hurts," he looked down at his feet. "i didn't say it back because i couldn't believe it was happening. i-i mean have you seen her? she's the definition of perfect and she said she loves me."

"oh, spencer," she said before giving him another hug, allowing him to break down in her arms.

"she walked out after that," he grimaced. "when i started walking back to my place that's when i heard the gunshot and called the ambulance. then i noticed it was her and i broke. it's my fault she was out there. if i would've told her how i felt she would've been in my arms and safe. instead, she's in a coma because i was too confused to say anything," he vented.

"it's not your fault, reid. you have to know that," she said before pulling back. "it's the guy who shot her's fault. not yours. you didn't pull the trigger."

"i might as well have. she doesn't know how i'm in love with her," spencer whined, feeling more hopeless than he did when he was kidnapped and drugged.

because at least then, he knew the team would be coming for him.

but he didn't know if you ever wanted to come back.

when you were lying there, dying, it was like you were saying goodbye as he held you in his lap. his hands, pants, and even shirt were covered in your blood.

he hadn't even noticed. he didn't care to notice. you were the only thing on his mind. everyone else knew he wouldn't leave without knowing your condition, so they didn't bother telling him to go clean up. emily noticed him eyeing his own appearance.

"go change. i'll call you if we have any updates. relax, please. she's not going to leave you," emily said before shooing him away to clean up.

spencer went to his place to change quickly and take a shower after morgan gave him his hoodie to wear on the drive there. meanwhile, emily walked out into the waiting room and took notice of morgan in his own worry.

"she'll fight. we know she will," emily confirmed as she walked to sit beside him.

"i know she will, but i'm also worried about the kid," morgan moved his head out of his hands as he looked at emily. "he told me how he was in love with her. and i'm willing to bet this has something to do with that. he's been through so much, he doesn't deserve to lose another person in his life."

"i know, you're right. he doesn't deserve this, nobody does, but he especially doesn't deserve this," emily said as she put her hand over his back, rubbing it soothingly.

"i'm gonna see if i can have my turn talking to y/n," he stood up and walked to your room, taking notice of jj still inside and penelope waiting patiently.

he wrapped his arms around garcia and let her cry as jj finished up inside before exiting and saying her goodbyes to everyone, allowing penelope to have her turn to talk with you.

showering helped spencer more than he thought it would. being covered in your blood was more frightening than he thought, so seeing his own skin on his hands was much easier for him.

he drove himself back to the hospital, wanting to avoid more prying eyes of cab drivers taking notice of his obvious grief and panic.

when he walked inside, hotch was inside your room with rossi, despite the 'one-person-at-a-time' rule. he knocked on the outside of the doorframe, alerting the two of his presence.

"kid. hey," rossi came up to greet him, giving him a quick hug before hotch did the same.

"reid, we know how close you two are, so just know that she's probably fighting to get back to you, the rest of us too, but especially you," hotch declared with a pity grin.

"i hope you're right," he glanced back in the room to look at you. "i really hope you're right."

spencer walked back into your room after the two older men left. he scooted the chair closer to your bed and held your hand. he crossed his arms on top of your bed, your hand still in his, and laid his head down on his arms.

he waited.

and waited.

and waited.

there was no progress.

he wanted you to come back to him. he wanted to feel your touch again and hear your laugh. he wanted to tell you how he felt. he just wanted you.

he was able to work at home on the few cases they received, and took his paperwork to your hospital room when he wasn't able to finish it as quickly as normal.

as the weeks went by, his hope began to dwindle, but his determination only grew. he was determined to be able to tell you how much he loved you while you were awake, so he refrained from spilling his guts while you were still unconscious.

he would read you books. your favorite books. the books you would ask him to read to you when you were feeling sad and wanted to hear his voice to calm you down.

he played your favorite songs. the songs you and him listened to on the way to work or to museums he would beg you to go to with him.

he even played chess with you. granted, he was more so playing himself acting as you. he would try to play whatever moves he felt you would play against him.

he cried with you. he cried for you to come back to him. he cried that you never stop fighting. he cried that he would get at least one more time to talk to you.

but one day the doctors noticed that you were able to breath on your own. they were able to take the tube out of your mouth and throat and nose. that was his hope. your strength was his hope.

he sped to the hospital that day, wanting to see you as soon as he could. it had been three weeks since the shooting, and he desperately needed the sight of your chest moving up and down voluntarily, a sign of your own breath breathing life into your body.

emily just nodded her head at him to go when he stormed into her office, she had received the same call seconds earlier.

when he came into your room, he as already in tears at the new progress. he brushed your hair out of your face and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

"keep fighting, y/n/n. you're so close to coming back to me, to us, to the team. please keep going," he begged as he sat down by your side. "i got the call about you being able to breath on your own, and i ran into emily's office. she didn't even need to say anything, she knew it was you," he smiled momentarily.

"i can't wait to be able to hug you again, and feel your warmth again. i uhm, i never told you this, but we've kissed," he smiled at the memory. "it was that night you were drunk and told me about your parents. you had kissed me after i told you how beautiful and amazing you were, and how wrong your parents were. i kissed you back, too," he gently bit his lip at the confession. "i-i didn't tell you because... i shouldn't have kissed you back. god, i've always wanted to kiss you, but not when you were drunk and vulnerable. i felt like i took advantage of you, and i hated that i did that to you. so, i never told you," he frowned at the hidden secret.

"but please, please, please come back to me. please let me kiss you for real this time. let me tell you how i feel, and hold you forever and ever. please just don't leave me. i won't be able to take that, y/n. i know how selfish that is, but i can't live without you. these past few weeks without hearing your voice has been hell," he frowned.

he had called your phone every day since the shooting just to hear your voice on the voicemail. those 29 words have been one of the things he's loved listening to when he woke up. he'd never admit it, but you'd realize it once you checked your phone.

another thing he loved doing was look through his videos of you. in one particular video, maybe even his favorite, you had taken his phone and began recording him on it.

you knew he hated his own appearance, although you'd never understand why, so you secretly took his phone and began recording him.

"hey spence! can you come here?" you called as you were in the living room, waiting for him to bring you your chicken tandoori.

"yup! i'm coming!" he came racing out with the two boxes of takeout, giving you one as he sat on the couch. he didn't even notice the phone with how you placed it in your hands.

"thanks handsome," you teased, although you meant every word you said. his face automatically blushed at the compliment, but he rolled his eyes nonetheless.

"oh, shut it," he said before stuffing a piece of chicken in his mouth. you giggled at his reaction, his favorite sound in the world.

"never. i don't know why you think you aren't attractive. you're so beautiful, spence, i'm surprised you don't already have a special someone," you nudged him with your elbow, the phone now being rested against your thigh to get a perfect view of him. you could see the smile he tried to hide by biting his lip gently.

"but i guess that does mean i get to spend more time with you, so i won't object," you laughed out before finally taking a bite of the food.

spencer noticed the phone on your thigh after you took a bite, his eyes widening at what he realized you were doing.

"y/n! why were you recording me?!" he exclaimed, trying to grab the phone and succeeding. he turned the camera on to you as you began laughing loudly at his reaction. "what do you have to say for yourself, ma'am?" he questioned.

your smile was brighter than ever, your face red from all the laughing. you were wearing one of spencer's sweaters, your favorite one. you had taken a couple because 'they're cozier' than yours. you put your hands up in surrender.

"i guess you caught me, hot stuff," you laughed before he placed the phone down and began his tickle attack on you. "ahhh! spencerrrr! please!" you laughed out. "i surrender!" tears of laughter were streaming down your face.

"fine. i think you've paid your penance," he joked before grabbing the phone and turning the camera on only you once again, you blushing from the action. "y'know you're really beautiful, right?" you smiled widely at his confession, sensing the sincerity in his voice.

"thank you, spencer. so are you, truly beautiful," you smiled even wider before he finally turned the camera off.

he remembers that day like it was yesterday. he'd like to claim it was because of his eidetic memory, but it was also because of you.

you had gotten the weekend off and decided to spend it together, once again. you had stayed the night with him all weekend, you insisted on sleeping on the couch to which he objected, forcing you to take the bed with him.

you had woken up cuddled in each others arms, facing each other like you had been hugging the whole night. spencer felt the most content he had ever felt in that moment, never wanting to let you go or wake you, so he waited for you to wake up.

that was the best weekend he's had in a while. you two acted as if you were in a relationship, domestic. it was delightful.

there was another picture the two of you had taken after a rather successful case.

all the missing children were found safe, a rare occurrence, so you had gone out to a bar to celebrate. it was mostly emily, morgan, and garcia's doing, so you had all eventually agreed once you figured out they wouldn't back down.

you had known how spencer was at bars, he was sometimes rather uncomfortable with all of the people. it made him anxious and a bit intimidated. so after you had all met up at the bar and you noticed how nervous he was, you intertwined your arms and took his hand in yours.

"my mom used to do this thing when i was anxious or nervous to calm me down," you whispered, wrapping your other arm around his one as you squeezed his hand three times. "it's supposed to be our way of assuring the other. a way of saying i'm here," you explained before he squeezed four times in return, your brows furrowed. "what does that mean?"

"i-it could mean i'm glad you're here," he grinned as he noticed the smile that erupted on your face from his kind words.

and you didn't let go all night.

"please come back to me, i know you can. you're so strong, please just come back to me," spencer wailed. he felt your hand squeezing his as he held it, making his encouragement the entire reason you came back to him.

-

"spence, you're making a mess," you giggled, wiping the corner of his lip free of the chocolate you two were eating, still in that heavenly place.

"i'm sorry! it just tastes really good," he smiled back as he watched you lick the chocolate from your thumb.

"mm, you're right. it does taste really good," you nodded your head. "so i'm taking all of them!" you grabbed the box full of chocolate and began running. looking back to see spencer chasing after you, you bursted into a fit of laughter.

the tall grass tickled your legs slightly, the breeze lifting your dress a tiny bit as you continued to jog ahead of him, teasing him with your laughter. he finally caught up with you, taking you down with him as you both giggled.

“you got me, dork,” you laughed, pushing his shoulder lightly. 

“of course i do! did you expect anything less?” he said arrogantly, you rolled your eyes. 

“never from you, doctor,” you teased as he pulled you in closer to him, you nuzzled your face into his neck as he admired the view around him. suddenly he stood up, the chocolate box in hand, and began running. 

“you little tease!” you shouted before getting up to chase him as he did you previously. “spencer reid, you’re so gonna get it!” you laughed out

"don’t leave me," he turned around to face you and called out, suddenly you felt a pang in your stomach where you had been stabbed.

you made eye contact with him, a look of shock and horror on your face as you tried to figure out what was wrong before you collapsed to the ground.

"sp-spencer? what's happening?" you asked as he pulled you into his lap.

"it's been two weeks y/n, i-i miss you." he began. "i know you're right here with me, but i miss your voice. and your laugh-"

"spencer i'm right here. i was just laughing with you," you tried to interrupt his monologue.

"and i miss the way your hair would crowd my face as we slept and how it would make me wake up. i miss hugging you and-"

"spencer please, i'm here," you cried, squeezing his hand as hard as you could to signify your presence.

"please come back to me, i know you can. you're so strong, please just come back to me."

-

"y/n! can you hear me?!" he exclaimed, you squeezed his hand once more, a little tighter than the last time. "oh my god! oh thank you so much, y/n," he cried as he kissed your knuckles once more, your fingers twitching in the process.

"doctor. we need the doctor!" he said as he pressed the nurse's button. "she's squeezing my hand. her fingers started twitching!" he said excitedly as the nurse entered, exiting to get the doctor.

you squeezed his hands three times, him returning with four times. you understood what he meant. his eyes were trained on your face and he saw as your lips twitched upwards in a smile.

the doctor came in to perform a few tests and forced him to release your hand. he asked you to squeeze his hand once more, you followed suit. the doctor noticed your nose twitching and neck beginning to turn.

"she's gaining control over her body again. this was predicted once we found out she could breath on her own, we just didn't think it'd happen this quickly. a recovery this soon after removing the tube is almost unprecedented," he said in awe of your strength.

"she's the strongest person i know. it's no surprise that she's recovering this fast," spencer said as he took hold of your hand again.

"indeed. she should regain full control over herself within a few hours or by overnight at this point. go easy on her, she's still recovering from being shot. i also need to observe the bullet hole on her stomach, but you could stay for that if you'd like." spencer nodded as the doctor raised the hospital gown.

there was deep bruising around the bullet hole and a scab over top. your stomach looked smaller than it had the last time he'd seen it, a result from you having to be fed through a tube. you were unbelievably pale, no surprise there either because of the lack of sunlight.

"it's healing nicely, the scab looks healthy and the bruising is getting better. she's a fighter, this one," he smiled at spencer.

"you have absolutely no idea," he said, not breaking his eyes from your beautiful face.

the doctor left swiftly after charting her vitals and giving her a shot of her vitamins. spencer sat back down in the chair and held your hand once again, waiting for you to fully wake up so you could once again be in each others' arms.

later that day, at around 11:50, your entire body began shifting. spencer sat up straight away, trying to held you in any way possible.

"that's it, y/n! come on, you can do it, y/n/n," he cheered you on, smiling so hard he felt his eyes prick with tears. you turned onto your side, towards spencer, and your eyes had began to twitch open.

"sp-spencer?" you questioned once your eyes were fully open.

"yea, yes. it's me. i'm here. i'm right here," he wrapped his arms around you, adjusting his grip after you grimaced from his tight hold. "i'm never leaving. i'm never letting you leave again," he ranted out, placing a hand on the back of your head as you wrapped the arm that didn't have an iv around his body, pushing your head to nuzzle into his neck.

"i'm so sorry. i never should've left you there," you cried into his arms.

"it's okay, y/n. it's not your fault at all," he soothed as his hand started stroking your hair gently. "i'm so glad you came back to me. thank you so much," he sighed as he gently placed a kiss on your head."

"you really think i would go that easily? i thought you knew me better than that, dumbo," you laughed out.

"i'm glad to see you still have that sense of humor in you," spencer scoffed, followed by a bright smile.

"oh that's not going anwhere, spencer. and neither am i."

@averyhotchner  @greenprisca  @muffin-cup​

[artnigth]

Migraines Part 2

i made it!! Part 3 tomorrow BABY!! (probably) 

MIGRAINES PART 2: Raz was walking all the way back to the Questionable Area, more specifically his family’s camp in the campgrounds. It had been a long day, he agreed to cover Gisu’s afternoon shift since she apparently had an “appointment” or something. Norma and Lizzie kept pestering him to see if Gisu actually had a date of sorts, but he knew as much as they did on that topic so that fun little conversation went nowhere. He was finally able to go home and take a nap, he was ten after all (and very tired). “RAZPUTIN!” A scream coming from above breaking his line of thought. Raising his gaze, Raz saw just as Ford Cruller flew to the spot in front of him. The senior Psyconaut might have been very old, but after Raz had fixed his mind it seemed that the senior was back in his prime. “Your brother needs help.”- the tone of Cruller's voice was concerned but not surprised, neither was Raz. “What are you talking about?” “Your brother is lost in the forest and- “QUEEPIE GOT LOST IN THE FORGETFUL FOREST?!” “Your other brother Razputin. Dion, was it? He got lost in the forest and is having a Psychic overload.”- Ford’s tone was calm but a little tired. “Dion? Having a Psychic overload? No offense agent Cruller but Dion isn’t a Psychic. But I do believe he could have gotten lost in the forgetful forest. Let’s go tell my family to go and search for him.” Both of the Psychonauts ran all the way to the Aquato camp, encountering Agustus at the entrance. “Dad! Dion got lost on the Forgetful Forest, we need to go look for him!”- Raz was tired, his tone was halfhearted and kind of over the whole situation. Agustus’ eyes were wide, he stepped back a little at the sight of Ford Cruller. Ford stayed back for Agustus’ sake, he was clearly not over what had happened and Ford couldn’t blame him at all. “How did Dion get lost in the woods?”- Agustus decided to ignore Ford’s presence focusing on his middle son and the dilemma that had been put into focus. “So that’s where that boy is… His friend came here a couple of hours ago and both her, Frazie and your mother have been looking for him since.”- Agustus sounded tense, but neither of the Psychonauts minded. “Friend? Dion has friends?”- Raz was a little surprised but not too much. “Yeah, that was Frazie’s reaction as well. Let me call them, I’m pretty sure they’re gonna be happy to finally find out where he is.” . “HE WHAT?!”- Donatella did NOT sound happy about finding out where her oldest son had been all this time, scaring her children and husband even if just a little. Frazie, Donatella, Raz, Agustus, and Ford were now standing at the entrance of the Forgetful Forest, with Dion’s “friend” not being there yet. “UNBELIEVABLE. I THOUGHT WE HAD TAUGHT THAT BOY BETTER THAN TO GO INTO THE WOODS ALONE! IF YOU FOUND HIM WHY DIDN’T YOU DRAG HIM BACK, FORD?!”- Donatella kept rambling for a while her temper getting worse with each word. “That’s what I’m trying to explain, Dion seems to be having some sort of Psychic overload. His abilities being so overwhelming to his mind that he can’t control what he does. I had similar experiences when I was a young Psychic, everything was to much to deal with.”- Ford was still standing at a distance from the family, his voice calm but still concerned. “FRAZIE!! DID YOU FIND HIM?!”- a voice was heard from high into the sky. A figure suddenly falling from the sky on a skateboard and landing between Ford and the Aquatos. It was Gisu on top of her skateboard, who stepped off to be at the same level as everyone else. “Gisu?! Aren’t you supposed to be at an appointment??”- Razputin sounded ofended and blindsided. “Appoinment? I never said that.”- Gisu was clearly confused on that topic. “Adam said you had an appointment and that he needed someone to cover your shift, were you here all the time?” “Yeah… I just told Adam I was leaving early, I never said anything about an appointment.” “But… But… You know what, nevermind.”- Raz sounded defeated, Norma and Lizzie were right, and he hated to admit it. And a possible date with his brother out of all people, ugh. “So… did you found Dion, it’s been hours…” “Agent Ford did, Dion’s apparently having a psychic overload in the forest. So we are going to start a search party into the forest.”- Frazie’s tone was her typical sarcastic annoyance but concern was still heard as a shadow in her voice. “Ok, I’ll go high to try and spot him from above.”- Gisu sounded a little desperate to find Dion clearly concerned. But she was still her determined and confident self. She stepped on her skateboard and suddenly she was gone, flying into the sky. The rest of the Aquatos, and Ford separated into the forest to look for Dion. Raz and Ford went north, meanwhile, Donatella and Agustus went east, Frazie stayed back to look after the kids and just in case Dion found a way back to the camp. . . . . .

Gisu was hovering above the Forgetful Forest scanning the area below as well as she could. She was looking for that dorky acrobat that she had gotten to know for the past two months, wondering how could he had managed to hide this type of issue long enough to have such a breakdown. Throwing agent Ford from the middle of the woods all the way to the campgrounds wasn’t a small action, levitating someone that far was impressive for someone who has repressed their powers for as long as Dion has. Her thoughts were interrupted when she got close to losing her balance and falling. A force trying to push her away from an exact spot in the forest, a small clear in the forest where there was a boulder. Trees were being pushed so hard away from that spot that some were being uprooted from the ground. Carefully Gisu did her best to go as close as she could in her skateboard, eventually she had to descend to the ground since she couldn’t move forward anymore. Gisu moved forward slowly, every step felt like if she was pushing a boulder that was getting heavier and heavier with each step. By the time Gisu had gotten to the boundaries of the clear, she had to hold on to a tree or else she would have been thrown away. Looking at the boulder she could see a familiar figure sitting in front of it, with his knees covering his face and his hair being an unrecognizable mess. There was Dion, shaking and sobbing in front of that boulder. Gisu was stunned. What happened to him?! Is he okay?! “Dion?!”- Gisu’s voice echoed through clear, her tone concerned. “GO AWAY!”- Dion’s voice roared into Gisu’s ears, almost deafening the girl. “You need to calm down, you’re destroying the forest!” “GISU YOU NEED TO LEAVE, I DON’T WANT TO HURT YOU!”- misery emanated from the boy, in all of his seventeen years of life nothing like this had happened to him. He was terrified of himself and very much lost in his own despair. Gisu stabbed the ground with her skateboard, propelling herself forward and using said skateboard as a cane in order to get the closest she could to him.  Using her own telepathy she tried her best to counter the force of Dion’s own psychic energy. The closer she got, the stronger Dion’s energy became, it was crazy and she didn’t know how to handle it. “GISU LEAVE!” She kept walking onward taking no mind of Dion’s words, just a few more steps and she would reach him, but it felt as if he were miles away. “GISU, STOP!” Her strength wavered, all of his force suddenly focused on her alone. His mind was tormented by screams, guilt invaded his body. HE had thrown Ford Cruller into the sky. HE levitated an old man and threw him to oblivion. HE had killed Ford Cruller, all because of… because… “DION PLEASE LET ME HELP! I’VE SEEN THIS HAPPEN A MILLION TIMES BEFORE. YOU JUST NEED TO CALM DOWN AND BREATH!”- Her cries resonated through the clear, her skateboard started to crack under pressure, she needed to act as fast as she could. She increased the energy she was putting into protecting herself and she kept moving forward. Dion felt hopeless, he needed to get Gisu away or he would hurt her like he hurt Ford. “GISU, PLEASE I DON’T WANT TO HURT YOU TOO!” The whispers in his mind were long gone, replaced by screams of fury, guilt and fear. This time he knew all those voices were just him. HE was tormenting himself for what he had done, screaming into his mind until he broke and finally exploded. HE thought it was fair, he deserved to end like this. Not just for what he did to Ford but for how he treated Raz, how he annoyed Gisu with his stupid questions about psychics, how he treated the people around him, how he was bound to explode and no one, not even himself, could stop it from happening. But at least he would make sure to not take anyone down with him. Suddenly a soft sensation was felt on his shoulders, like a thin blanket. Dion looked up from his knees and there she was. Gisu holding on to her skateboard, her knuckles white from the effort. Her hair waving as if a storm was hitting her directly on her face. A soft smirk planted on her face. Her scarf missing from her shoulders and gently placed on his. Tears began to run down from his eyes, all the way to his chin. The pressure stopped, the screams wavered turning back into whispers and the world finally stopped spinning. Gisu took his hands and gently lifted them both to stand. Her hands were rough and cold from all of her mechanical projects with Otto, but for Dion they felt like a safe place, something he hadn’t felt from anyone ever since he was a child. “Let’s go back to the campgrounds your family is looking for you and it's getting dark.”- her voice was soft, a hint of relief on her tone. Dion nodded. They started walking out of the clear and reentering the forest. They had a long way back and Gisu knew it was better to hold her breath since the Aquato family were definitely going to have a rough night. END OF PART 2.

PART 1:

[bigbadredpanda]

Hi, I have another question if you don't mind! Lots of people say while he was dead wwx didn't age mentally, so he's much younger than lwj or jc in the present. This always confuses me, because when he comes back he looks much more mature and calm compared to how he was before, so if time didn't pass for him, if he was the same as before, how could that be? ----

Hi, pleasure to see you again! This question is a very interesting one, I don’t have a straightforward answer to explain Wei Wuxian’s character development while he was gone, just a mix of several conjectures:

- Wei Wuxian was dimly aware of the passing of time while he was dead

As you’ve mentioned, to the question how did Wei Wuxian spend his time during these thirteen years, MXTX said in her own words that “he was in a muddled state, not quite fully conscious but not unable to feel either, it is like being trapped in an unending nightmare”.

Although it’s unclear just what kind of recollection he has from this time, we also have some insight from Wei Wuxian’s thoughts just after his rebirth as he wakes up by being kicked by Mo Ziyuan for playing dead (ch.2):

魏无羡半死不活地思索：
本人作古多年，真的不是装。

More dead than alive, Wei Wuxian mused, “I’ve been dead for several years, I genuinely wasn’t faking.”

他怎么就被划分成“十恶不赦的厉鬼邪神”了？

虽说他名声是比较差，死状又非常惨烈，但一不作祟，二不复仇，他敢发誓上天入地绝对找不到一个比他更安良本分的孤魂野鬼！

How could he be classified as a “ferocious ghost of the most irredeemable kind”?

Although his reputation was substandard and his death happened in particularly miserable circumstances, he did not haunt the living or seek revenge. He could assert that one could search heaven and earth and not find a more peaceful and well-behaved wandering soul in the wild.

The concept of afterlife is not well-defined in the lore of this story but there is evidence that Wei Wuxian does know that time has elapsed since his death and retained some sort of awareness.

- Wei Wuxian is highly adaptable

When he is the only one concerned, Wei Wuxian is not fazed by much, not even by death itself. When faced with the prospect of losing his right hand due to Wang Lingjiao’s cruelty, he is able to discard his fear and focus on a new objective (ch.57):

恐惧过后，魏无羡咬了咬牙，一狠心，心道：“……也罢！要是能换家里的安宁……一只手就一只手，他妈的大不了老子今后练左手剑！！！”

After the fear passed, Wei Wuxian gritted his teeth and hardened his heart, he thought to himself, “... Fine! If that can be traded for peace at home... A hand is just a hand, if it comes to that, I’ll fucking learn to use a sword with my left hand!”

That’s an aside but in this part of the text, Wei Wuxian does not use the regular first-person pronoun 我, he employs 老子, a cocky way to refer to oneself that is used when one is furious. It comes off in Chinese as a bit of a boast, as a manifestation of his indomitable spirit. In comparison, in my first example (“I’ve been dead for several years”), Wei Wuxian uses another first-person pronoun, 本人, a humble way to refer to oneself. This kind of little details is unfortunately easily lost in translation ^^’

Even in the worst situations when there is no hope left, he is able to bounce back and carry on just like after he was thrown in Burial Mounds.

- Wei Wuxian came to terms with the events of his past life before meeting his end

There is a vital part of the timeline that is not explored at all, the three months between the Nightless City massacre and the siege of Burial Mounds that ultimately resulted in Wei Wuxian’s demise. We have this blank between two key events in his life and not much to shed light on his physical and mental states during these last days. He lost his shijie, annihilated thousands of cultivators and passed the point of no return. He found himself back at Burial Mounds with only the last surviving few of the Wen remnants. He must have known that he was cornered and that there was no way out. I don’t think that he just gave up and resigned himself to his own fate though, that’s not in his temperament. I imagine that he must have tried to do as best he could about the things that were still in his control. Perhaps setting up some last defenses. Making contingency plans for the Wen remnants. We do know that he destroyed one half of the Yinhufu so that this ominous artefact would not bring tragedy again.

Three months is a relatively lengthy period, I don’t think Wei Wuxian could have left unaddressed all the pain, the grief and the guilt he surely felt. The philosophy of his character hinges on his ability to let go and move forward (ch.24):

江厌离说，他天生就是一张笑脸，一副笑相。无论什么难过都不会放在心上。无论身处什么境地都能开开心心。听起来像是有些没心没肺，但这样很好。

Jiang Yanli said that he was born to smile, it was his natural expression. No matter what hardships he met, he would not take it to heart. No matter the circumstances he found himself in, he would be able to find happiness. This sounded a bit simple-minded but it was a good way to live.

So I believe that despite it all, despite the overwhelming despair and hopelessness, he still managed to come to terms with all that happened and faced his end calmly with no regrets.

[vex-bittys]

In Your Dreams: A Horrortale Story

Raffle prize for @purplesangel. When your life is a living nightmare, is it any surprise that your dreams are just as bad? Thankfully a dream-walking human has arrived to help, but will she still want to help Axe when she finds out what he’s done to stay alive?

WARNING: character death mention, language, blood mention, some disturbing imagery including cannibalism (no details)

READ ON AO3

----------

Life in the Underground was an endless nightmare for Axe. During his waking hours, he checked his traps and hunted in the forest, often returning home empty-handed only to see the disappointment and desperation in his brother’s sockets. Supply trains became frantic riots as too many monsters competed for their share of too little food, and the sharp pain of hunger lingered even after the skeleton brothers’ meager meals.

Madness seeped in through the hole in his skull, distorting reality. He clawed at his skull, trying to release the pressure of the frenetic energy that consumed him. He could feel the darkness lurking, waiting for him to make a misstep, some seemingly trivial mistake; that’s when it would strike, shredding his thoughts and shattering his focus. There was no escaping it, and Axe knew that one day it would swallow him up.

Sleep provided no reprieve. In his dreams, Axe continued to suffer. He watched his brother fade away to nothing from starvation. He felt the gnawing emptiness of his own unsatisfied hunger. Feasts appeared before his single working eyelight only to transform into grains of sand that slipped through his fingers when he reached for it. He ran through the shadowed forest outside of Snowdin, fleeing an unknown terror in the night while thorny tendrils of a deeper darkness caught him, slowing his progress, dragging him down, and allowing his madness to suffocate him.

Days dragged on into months, and months melted together into years. Waking life remained bleak with monsters still struggling (and at times failing) to survive. Food sources dwindled, and the gathering of other resources fell by the wayside as every creature in the Underground focused on filling their stomachs as best they could. Everything stagnated in its state of destitution and decay… everything except Axe’s dreams.

Axe’s nightmares repeated themselves night after night until slowly, they began to change. It started with the appearance of a new character- a human that Axe didn’t recognize, though he thought it might be a female. At first the human only observed the horrors that lurked in the sleeping world of Axe’s mind. Gradually, though, she began to interact.

It all started during one of Axe’s nightmares about his brother. Crooks would turn a pleading gaze to his brother, mouthing a soundless plea for food. Axe would fall to his knees, sobbing and pounding his fists into the ground. Crooks slowly collapsed, and the gradual dissolution of his body sent his dust drifting towards his brother, filling Axe’s mouth and nasal cavity until he choked himself awake… usually. This time things turned out differently.

“I’M SO HUNGRY, BROTHER,” Crooks’ voice came from the air around them and not his mouth, the teeth there long since broken or knocked askew from gnawing away at non-edible items simply to assuage the need to chew.

The human appeared, but instead of observing the unfolding scene, this time she glanced around until her eyes fell upon Axe.

-

Since the very first time you’d stumbled across this heart-breaking nightmare scenario, you’d worked hard to return to it. Dream-walking involved focus, practice, and a bit of luck, and in this venture, the fates were on your side. You’d walked this collection of now-familiar nightmare images many times, slowly working out which participant it belonged to and why the skeleton with the broken skull kept replaying these torturous situations in his sleep.

Now, you were ready to interact and hopefully restore some peace to the sleeping world of the monster in front of you. You extended a tentative hand towards him, unsure if he would welcome your touch as a form of physical comfort. He just stared at your outstretched hand as if it would bring some new and unfathomable horror to his disturbingly familiar nightmare. You let your hand drop. Words would have to suffice then.

“It’s not real,” you told the stocky skeleton firmly.

His sockets narrowed suspiciously. “what do ya mean, ‘not real’?”

“This-” you gestured to the vague, nondescript surroundings and very crisp, well-defined figure of the tall, starving skeleton behind you, never breaking eye contact “- is not real.”

The skeleton with the broken skull laughed, a harsh and humorless sound that grated against your ear drums. You sighed, frustrated but determined. It rarely improved a situation to reveal yourself while dream-walking; most dreamers forgot their nightly travels when they returned to the waking world anyway. Those who didn’t merely discarded your presence, along with any advice you might give, as part of a nonexistent scenario that could not influence their waking lives and should thus be ignored.

Normally, you resigned yourself to this and walked through dreams as a silent observer, but this skeleton’s torment tore at your heart and brought forth a tenacity within you to help him in the only way you could: by walking through his nightmares and defeating them, one by one, until nothing remained but peaceful slumber.

The skeleton with the broken skull scoffed. “you don’t know nothin’,” he growled obstinately.

“I know that your most frequent nightmares involve food, madness, and losing this other skeleton-”

“my bro,” the skeptical skeleton clarified.

“Losing your brother,” you amended with an edge to your voice, “to starvation.”

“it’s not like you’re some expert investigator piecin’ together the clues, pal. we’re all starvin’ and dustin’ down here,” he said, dismissing your observations. You frowned. Was there some truth to these nightmares? Often dreams represented thoughts and fears in a metaphoric manner, but maybe this skeleton didn’t have room in his troubled mind for subtlety.

Regardless, you would do what you could for him in the only place that you could reach him.

“I don’t know what your life is like in the waking world,” you conceded softly, “but this? Everything around us now? It isn’t real.” You continued in a rush before the skeleton could interrupt you again. “You’re asleep, and your mind is processing your fears… and your reality… into nightmares.”

The skeleton inhaled, obviously ready to argue again, but you stopped him by making a sweeping gesture towards his brother. Had this nightmare been reality, the taller skeleton would be dust by now. Instead, the image was frozen in place thanks to the stocky skeleton’s change of focus. “Look,” you ordered boldly.

-

Axe begrudgingly allowed his single eyelight to stray from you to his brother. While it was true that nothing had changed in the scene since he had turned his attention to his unexpected visitor, the moment he looked back, the scenario resumed. Flakes of dust drifted loose from his brother’s body, floating away on an unfelt breeze to disappear as they dispersed until nothing remained except the unbearable weight of guilt and his brother’s ghost of a voice whispering “Why?” over and over again in his head.

Why didn’t you save me?

“It’s not real,” you whispered solemnly behind him, but honestly, that didn’t matter. Watching his brother die of starvation that he should have prevented sent jagged pains through his SOUL whether it existed solely inside of his mind or not. Your next words, however, carried a much greater impact: “I can teach you how to change it.”

-

The most frustrating part of dream-walking was the inability to change the contents of people’s dreams or nightmares yourself. While you could view the unfolding events, you possessed no real power over them. Only the dreamer could affect their dreams. Thankfully, unlike dream-walking, lucid dreaming is a skill that can be taught.

As with every teaching experience, some students learn more quickly than others. Axe, as he eventually introduced himself to you, was not one of those students. The most difficult aspect of lucid dreaming for him happened to be the very first step to lucid dreaming at all: accepting that what he experienced while he slept was a dream instead of a warped reality that lived inside of his cracked skull and broken mind.

“These images all come from your thoughts,” you explained again. “You can control them, but first you have to accept that you can control them.” 

You knew that the dreams involving his brother were far too emotionally charged to make good fodder for lucid dreaming practice, and you preferred to steer clear of the choking darkness since you had no idea what effects such a powerful and overwhelming negative force could potentially have on you, even as an observer within someone else’s troubled subconscious. This only left the dreams of an untouchable feast to practice on… and practice was not going well.

As with your many previous attempts to gently guide the stocky skeleton towards seizing control of his nightmares, the lesson had quickly devolved into a squabble. You insisted that Axe could learn to control his subconscious surroundings; Axe stubbornly insisted that he could not. You would point out that this was his dream, and his mind; he would attempt to discredit your existence as just another piece of the complicated web of nightmares that plagued him: a human offering him false hope in a bleak and hopeless world.

It did bother you a little bit that Axe considered you- a (mostly) patient and helpful human- to be nightmare fuel. Only monsters lived in the Underground since the long-forgotten war, so why would Axe’s guilt-riddled dreamscapes include humans?

You decided to save the questions for another time.

“Try again,” you told Axe, who only answered with a weary, frustrated sigh.

-

Irritation swirled through Axe’s excessive magic, though it was aimed more at himself than at you. Every night you tried to help him take control of his dreaming mind, and every night, despite your calm instructions, he failed. You made it sound so easy, so why couldn’t he just grab a stupid spider donut off of the stupid table and shove the stupid thing into his big, stupid mouth?

“Try again,” you told him patiently as he brushed the gritty sand from his finger joints. He uttered a weary, frustrated sigh.

“i am trying,” he grumbled, biting back a deluge of unhelpful comments and curses. He touched another piece of food, a french fry, still steaming though it had been sitting on a pile of its doppelgangers since the nightmare began. The entire fry stack crumbled to sand before he’d even lifted one free; Axe’s patience dissolved along with it.

“if this was as easy as you claim,” he shouted, letting his anger overflow into sharp words, “then i’d be able to pick up these plates and smash them on the floor like i want to!” Without any conscious thought, Axe lifted one of the plates in question and hurled it at the ground. It shattered, leaving silence in its wake as Axe and the dream-walking human stared down at the shards on the ground in awe.

Axe gave an entire stack of plates an experimental shove, sending them cascading over the edge of the table and onto the ground where they created an inharmonious symphony of destruction. You applauded the spontaneous mess and squealed with glee, and Axe swept you up into a quick celebratory hug, spinning you around once before setting you back on your feet. As soon as he set you down, he grabbed a donut and crammed it into his mouth. Chewing, his sockets narrowed in utter bliss, he picked up a second donut and offered it to you. 

Nothing tasted as sweet as victory… except for maybe a spider donut.

-

You didn’t want to dampen the skeleton’s joy by telling him that you wouldn’t be able to taste a donut in his dreams, so you took a bite, your head still spinning from his sudden show of physical affection. With a promise to see him the following night, you stepped out of his nightmares. You felt content that you’d taken the first big step on a journey to giving Axe the power to sleep peacefully without constant, horrific nightmares plaguing him.

The next lesson would be more difficult; you intended to guide Axe through banishing nightmares of his brother’s death. Out of consideration for Axe’s privacy, you had never asked him why he had such specific nightmares about his brother, but nightmares involving a sibling death as vivid as Axe’s hinted at some very dark and complex situations existing in the skeletons’ waking world. Those hints aside, Axe had outright stated that things were terrible in the Underground where he lived. Maybe working through his dream would give him some insight into fixing his real-life situation, at least the one he faced with his brother.

You hoped so. During the nights you’d spent helping Axe learn how to lucid dream, you had come to consider him a friend. You hated the thought of him suffering. You especially hated that you could only reach him during his nightmares. You wished you could do more, but how? Those were thoughts for your own waking world.

Tonight you wanted to focus on Axe’s progress, and once he’d gotten some practice at lucid dreaming, you’d work on changing the heart-breaking nightmare of his brother.

-

Sweat beaded on Axe’s skull as he waited for you to appear. He could feel himself slipping towards darker dreamscapes, and he fought to stay in the safe in-between place like you’d shown him. He told himself that the tremors in his bones were caused by his unstable magic and not by fear. What if his previous successes were a fluke? What if he failed when it mattered the most? 

Thoughts of failure sent him spiraling into the guilty nightmare of his starving brother. After all, his failures in reality led to this, and the dire consequences that he saw unfolding in his subconscious lurked only a step behind him in the waking world. Soon his real life would become this very same nightmare, and he would be left as powerless to stop it there as he felt to stop it here.

Thankfully, you appeared within seconds to chase away the grim meanderings of his mind and help him focus on the task at hand- Crooks.

Axe’s brother loomed in front of him, eyes pleading, begging for something that Axe could not give him. He watched the image of his brother twist and reshape itself, growing alarmingly large, the bones stretching from an influx of magic that still somehow managed to provide almost no nutrition. He whispered his brother’s name, frozen in place and unable to remember what he was supposed to do to stop the scene unfolding in front of him.

A small hand slipped into his; he had forgotten about you as his familiar fears swamped him. You looked up at him with a calm expression and nodded, encouraging him.

“You can do this.” Your words bolstered his courage. He dragged his panic back under control and turned to face Papyrus… or what had become of Papyrus under his inadequate care: the monster now known as Crooks. 

“You know what you need to do,” you whispered.

Axe stepped towards his brother, focusing on Crooks as he had seen him last: tucked into his bed, the blanket no longer quite long enough to cover his lanky frame, wishing Axe a good night and sweet dreams and promising to see him in the morning. Keeping that image locked in his mind, Axe let his lone eyelight travel over his brother’s altered frame. Sure enough, not a single mote of dust rose from the other skeleton. Crooks simply stood there, watching him through sunken sockets.

Though he’d brought his brother’s recurring death to a halt, the words that swirled and echoed around him continued, too faint at first to make out individual words or phrases. His brother’s voice whispered accusations like poisoned arrows that pierced his SOUL. A chorus of questions, all beginning with “Why…?” slowed, sharpened, and gained clarity. Crooks spoke, though his mouth never moved and the words seemed to thrum within his very bones, tangible beyond mere sound.

Normally Crooks’ omnipresent voice asked him why he would allow his brother to starve, but this time the question differed, though it still sent chills to the very marrow of Axe’s bones.

“WHY DID YOU MAKE ME EAT-”

Axe quickly hushed his brother, stealing a glance at you to gauge your reaction. You simply made an encouraging gesture as if to say “Go on, you’re doing great.” He wondered if you’d feel the same way if you knew what Crooks’ next words would have been.

“i couldn’t let ya starve,” Axe spoke softly, tilting his head to maintain eye contact with his much taller brother. “i’d do anything to keep you alive.”

“EVEN-”

Axe nodded, nearly choking on guilt. “yeah. even that.”

“BUT I TOLD YOU I DIDN’T EVER WANT-”

Remorse softened Axe’s expression, and his gravelly voice hitched. “i couldn’t let ya dust. i had no choice. i’m so sorry.”

-

Without warning, Crooks slumped, but he wasn’t collapsing into dust. Instead, he crushed his brother against his ribcage in a tight hug. You sensed a loosening of the guilt and remorse that gripped this particular nightmare so tightly. Things weren’t resolved yet. Nightmares could rarely be banished in a single lucid dreaming session, but you’d given Axe the tools he needed to seize control of his sleeping world. 

Only one challenge awaited you now: fighting the suffocating darkness of the final nightmare. You made plans to tackle that monumental task once Axe felt satisfied that he could manage this current nightmare on his own. Working through the tangle of emotions that his brother’s death awakened would take quite a bit longer than satisfying himself that he could eat his fill of dream donuts, but you were willing to go the distance to help Axe.

You actually wanted to do this, no matter how much the slithering darkness terrified you. Axe just meant that much to you.

-

“I think we’re ready for the final nightmare,” you declared after a dream session in which Axe showed off by summoning various items for his brother to eat.

In the lucid dreams about Crooks, his dream-brother mostly stood or sat nearby providing companionship and support as Axe practiced controlling his consciousness. Axe enjoyed the time with his brother, despite the knowledge that this version of Crooks existed only inside of his mind. It gave him a tentative sensation of hope that perhaps someday he could experience this type of peace with his brother in the waking world, free of the constant mad scramble for survival.

Your words shattered fragile, fleeting calm. Sweat beaded on Axe’s skull. The final nightmare contained his deep, dark fears, his madness, his guilt. Tendrils that reeked of his unspeakable crimes dragged him down into the cesspool that used to be his SOUL. He didn’t want you to see that part of him. He didn’t want you to know what he was truly capable of.

You’d never come back, and he’d be left alone with the echoing, blossoming psychosis that suffocated him. It would be worse now though. You’d shined a light into his life, and now he risked that glimmer of goodness being torn away… torn away because of what he’d done.

The punishment would fit the crime of his continuing survival.

-

You stepped into Axe’s dream world, excited and nervous at the prospect of facing the unknown horrors of this last nightmare that plagued him. The endless grey limbo that surrounded you came as quite a surprise when you expected inky vines of darkness encased in the thorns of Axe’s painful emotions and memories. Axe refused to meet your eyes when you approached him. Something was off about the whole situation.

“Is everything ok?” Maybe Axe wasn’t ready to face the darkness of the upcoming nightmare. You didn’t mind; you weren’t going to push him towards something that he didn’t want to do. You weren’t exactly eager to face it either, and besides, you thought you might enjoy just spending some time with Axe.

When he raised his head to meet your eyes, you couldn’t suppress a gasp of fright. Goosebumps erupted along your arms, and you shivered.

Axe’s single red eyelight… it glowed with an eerie flickering light, seeming to swell until the socket could barely contain the vortex of its power. Axe tilted his head at an unnatural angle and laughed at your reaction. You forced yourself to stand your ground despite your fear. This was not the monster you knew. Axe now embodied the darkness of his own inner turmoil, and it froze the blood in your veins.

“nothing is ok!” Axe’s snarl dissolved into sinister chuckles that made his broad shoulders shake. He lifted a hand, phalanges curved like claws to scrape at the hole in his skull. You lunged forward to pull his hand away before he caused more damage to himself, and he shoved you roughly away.

-

The hurt and confusion in your eyes filled Axe with dark satisfaction. You needed to know just what kind of monster he was. You needed to fear him, to run away and never come back. Instead, you offered him your compassion yet again.

“Let me help you.” Tears filled your eyes. His madness must be breaking your sweet, loving heart, but he drove home his depravity because if he let himself care, you’d find out the truth eventually anyway. Losing you would hurt more if he actually had you first.

This time when you reached out for him, he dodged, letting your momentum carry you to your hands and knees on the floor. He loomed over you, oozing menace like a thick fog.

“help me?” Axe’s scornful laughter echoed around the empty landscape. “and why,” he asked cruelly, “would you help a murderer?”

“Murderer?” You repeated the word as a question, as if you weren’t completely sure you knew what it meant. Your eyes widened in shock as tendrils of darkness climbed Axe’s arm, sliding over his bones like living tattoos until they pooled in his hand, taking on the shape of a huge meat cleaver.

“how do you think i’ve survived so long, little human? i hunt, and i kill.” He grinned, his mouth stretching into a disturbing parody of joy. “humans mostly. honestly, did you think the blood on my hoodie was mine?”

-

You admittedly hadn’t thought much about the blood stains on the hoodie. Maybe they were his. Maybe they were ketchup. Maybe in his dreams he wore the stains of his brother’s imagined death. Dreams and nightmares created their own reality with its own details pulled more from a dreamer’s mindset than accurate memories. It shocked you to think that Axe truly wore a hoodie that had once been soaked with fresh blood.

Human blood.

You trembled. Axe began to circle you like a hungry wolf, casually swinging his gigantic cleaver.

“Do you regret it?” you finally asked in a tiny voice.

-

Those four words penetrated the armor of madness that Axe was using to push you away, and they struck him like a well-timed attack. He reeled, reaching for some lie to keep you from seeing the truth and pitying him.

He found nothing.

The meat cleaver fell from his shaking hand. Axe sank to his haunches, covering his face with his hands, trying to hide from you and your perceptiveness. He wanted to scare you away before you could judge him and abandon him, but you shot your question straight to his SOUL, refusing to believe the worst of him.

“every fucking minute of my life.”

This time, when you tentatively reached for him, undaunted by his previous rejection, he leaned into your touch. He hated himself for his weakness, but every second that you stayed, even if you left eventually, was a second he would cherish until time wore away even the memory of his dust.

With his first admission, however poorly he’d delivered it, out of the way, Axe couldn’t stop himself from confessing even more of his transgressions and regrets. “i lied and told my brother it was meat from an animal in the forest. he didn’t want to eat humans, but i tricked him. i couldn’t let him starve” The words poured out of him; he feared that as soon as things went quiet, you would realize what an irredeemable abomination he was and flee. “i shouldn’t have done it, but i didn’t know what else to do. we were so hungry… and it messed up our magic. there’s no way to hide what we did. no way to undo it.” 

-

Axe’s words stumbled to a halt, and you sat for a moment in the heavy silence of the grey dreamscape, contemplating them. You hated what he had done, but you also understood that his only other option would be watching his brother starve to death. The circumstances didn’t allow for any winners, and Axe suffered with the knowledge of the things he’d done. 

“You were trying to survive.” Your voice nearly cracked on the final word. You could not fathom the desperation that drove Axe to his decision.

You remembered all of the heart-breaking stories that Axe told you about the Underground: the human who’d stolen the SOULs that the monsters had gathered and fled, taking the monsters’ hope with them, the death of their monarchs at the human’s hands, the Royal Guard Captain’s ascension to a throne that she didn’t possess the skills to manage, and the unbearable suffering of monsters starving to death or falling down because of an unshakable despair.

You raised your eyes to meet Axe’s eyelight, expecting to see softness there once more, but instead his horrified expression stared back at you. You didn’t need to puzzle out the cause because a moment later, barbed shadow vines lashed you, wrapping around your legs and dragging you towards a puddle of oozing darkness near your feet. You struggled against the thorny tendrils, and they tightened, driving each wickedly sharp thorn-tip into your flesh.

Pain seared your legs, real physical pain… in someone else’s dream. Panic washed over you, and you fought harder to escape, causing the barbs to rip deeper into you.

You screamed.

-

Shaking off his shock at the sound of your scream, Axe lunged forward. He wrapped both of his arms tightly around you and wrenched you away from the grasping vines. A writhing mass of them rose up behind him, swarming over him like living things. Staggering a few steps forward, Axe set you on an empty bit of space, but the vines quickly pulled him off of his feet and into a kneeling position. More tendrils rose to wrap around him, and the inky darkness of the puddle rose up to meet them, slithering up his body and swallowing him up in the darkness.

“i can’t protect you here… i can’t keep you safe from me, from my mind.” Axe choked out the words through the darkness consuming him. He couldn’t let you come back. He wouldn’t allow you to be in danger because of him.

This had to be good-bye.

He focused his mind.

“don’t come back.”

-

You jolted awake, that one last glimpse of Axe’s red eyelight, brimming with pain and regret burning in your mind. He had kicked you out of his dreams and told you not to come back. You couldn’t dream-walk in a mind that wasn’t open to your presence. Your throat constricted, and you felt tears sting your eyes. What if you never saw Axe again?

When you tossed back your blankets, you half expected to see scratches on your legs where Axe’s negative thoughts and emotions had touched you, but your skin was unbroken. You’d never experienced a nightmare so vivid and intense, but you breathed a sigh of relief that it couldn’t reach you in the waking world. If only Axe would let you come back, you could tell him that despite your panicked reactions, his dreams had no power to harm you.

Instead, he would continue to face the torment of his past mistakes all alone… for now.

Because while you had been helping Axe deal with his nightmares, you hadn’t neglected the appalling circumstances of his reality. If you could make your waking project work, you would be able to truly save the skeleton that you cared for so deeply.

I won’t let you push me away, you vowed.

-

Axe settled himself on the bench of his sentry station, taking a break from prowling the forest for potential meals. The barren snowscape left him all alone with his thoughts, and he hated it. In one bout of unhinged boredom, he’d created a sign for the outpost: “Head dogs, 5G.” It made as much sense as anything else in the Underground. Besides, there was no such thing as a hot dog in this frigid wasteland.

The narrow lines of dead tree trunks shifted if he stared at them too long, and the wind that howled through them carried voices whose words he could not quite arrange into coherency. The windblown whispers rose in volume until the roaring of innumerable voices filled his skull. The blazing white of the snow surrounding him only added to the sensory overload. He couldn’t hear, couldn’t see. 

“shut up, shut up!” Axe chanted, clawing at the hole in his skull. Reality warped, the passage of time quickened and slowed, and nothing made sense anymore…

… and you were standing in front of him.

Axe recoiled in disbelief. How could this be happening? He hadn’t fallen asleep… or had he? Maybe you were a cruel hallucination conjured by his loneliness. He refused to accept the vision of you even when you reached out in that oh-so-familiar way to calm the scrabbling of his phalanges against the jagged edges of the hole in his skull.

Axe’s hand shot out as quickly as a striking snake and grabbed your wrist. He yanked you forward until you were partially bent over the sill of the sentry station. He raised his massive knife high above his head; his eyes held no recognition, no clarity, no sanity.

You held completely still, unflinching. The meat cleaver hovered threateningly above you, but it did not fall. You and Axe were frozen in the moment, but despite the madness that absolutely radiated from him, you trusted him not to hurt you.

“you’re not real,” Axe accused you in a gravelly whisper. You weren’t even sure if he meant to speak aloud at all.

“Are you going to kill me?” Your voice didn’t waver, and you kept your eyes locked with his single eyelight, calm yet firm.

Axe lowered the knife. Real or imagined, starving or not, he would never hurt you. You knew him too well. He released your wrist, hoping he hadn’t hurt you by grabbing you like that. He wanted to ask how you’d gotten here, but other matters demanded a higher priority.

“you aren’t safe here,” the skeleton scolded gruffly. “didn’t you listen? monsters here kill and eat humans!”

“Good thing I found you first then.” You tried to diffuse the tension with bravado, but you had to admit that your choice to come to the Underground was a risky one. Axe’s eyelight travelled over your body, searching for injuries while surreptitiously taking in the sight of you. His obvious concern for your safety filled you with warmth and determination.

“there’s nothing good about this,” Axe growled though he had to admit that seeing you again definitely felt like a good thing to him. That little bit of goodness could be snuffed out in a hurry though if another monster saw you and attacked. “i’ve got to get you out of here.”

Axe lumbered out of his sentry station, glancing furtively around the barren landscape, though it wasn’t entirely clear whether he expected to spot an enemy or an escape route. The skeleton stopped right next to you, attempting to block you from prying eyes. You found his protective stance rather charming, but you weren’t here to be charmed. You were on a mission.

You slipped your backpack from your shoulders, swinging it around into Axe’s line of sight and opening it. Seven clear canisters sat inside, each with a brightly-colored heart shape inside of it. Axe’s mouth dropped open in shock.

“are those…?” Axe sounded almost reverent, and with good reason.

“Human SOULs? Yes. I gathered these from willing donors who wanted to help set the monsters free.” It had taken dedication and time, but you’d meticulously interviewed potential donors until you tracked down all seven SOUL types that you needed. Now, only the path to the Barrier stood in your way.

Without warning, Axe swept you into a crushing hug, then proceeded to spin you around. Your feet actually left the ground, and you laughed softly at the thrill of it.

“you’ve got to meet my brother, then we’ll smuggle you into the Capitol.” For once you heard excitement and hope in Axe’s voice. His eyelight gleamed with resolution as he reached for your hand. You placed your hand in his without hesitation. Axe’s declaration that he knew a shortcut still rang in your ears as the world spun beneath you and everything went dark.

Disoriented, you tried to take in the scene around you. You’d been outside, standing in a forest choked with dead trees and carpeted in snow, but suddenly you found yourself in a house. The loud colors of the bowling alley style carpeting had long since faded, and the couch had obviously seen better days. Everything in the house was touched with the same look of elegant decay: faded colors, worn fabrics, the yellowing of book pages, and the subtle musk of disuse. 

A fine film of the dust of time spoke volumes about the life of two monsters who devoted so much of their lives to simply surviving that they were forced to neglect the basic upkeep of their home. The house looked so long abandoned that the presence of life within it seemed almost surreal. You couldn’t find words to break the silence that permeated the house, soundless echoes of what it had once been.

Movement caught your eye; a lanky figure detached itself from the shadows and stepped in the dust-mote-filled light. Your eyes travelled up and up, an impossible height despite the figure’s hunched posture, until you found facial features that you recognized from Axe’s dream. The vivid colors of Axe’s subconscious bore the same washed-out appearance here that characterized their home, but you knew this must be Papyrus, now known as Crooks due to the effects of his recent tragic diet.

Crooks wrung his hands shyly, awaiting your reaction to his somewhat terrifying appearance. His teeth were crooked and broken, caked with something red that you tried not to think about too much. His nervous actions tugged at your heart, and you offered him a gentle smile which he responded to with a smile of his own.

“I’D OFFER YOU SOME OF MY SIGNATURE SPAGHETTI AND EYEBALLS, BUT WE’RE ALL OUT OF PASTA.” His apologetic tone did little to distract you from the fact that the skeleton brothers were short of pasta but not eyeballs. 

“That’s alright. Really.” You didn’t hold out much hope that Crooks had misspoken considering Axe’s earlier admission. The sooner you got these monsters out of their Underground prison, the sooner they could return to normal healthy eating habits.

“my friend here wants to help us get to the Surface. they’ve got plenty of pasta up there. we just need to talk to ol’ Queen Undyne first,” Axe interjected, using a light tone to dispel the awkwardness of his brother’s offer. 

Crooks perked up at the mention of Undyne. “UNDYNE WILL BE SO RELIEVED. I DON’T THINK SHE LIKES BEING QUEEN VERY MUCH…” You clutched your backpack and its precious cargo of SOULs, unzipping it slightly to show the mingled glow of seven vibrant colors. Crooks peered at them with a mixture of curiosity and delight.

Axe shifted uncomfortably. “yeah, relieved,” he mumbled, refusing to meet your eyes. You didn’t have much time to wonder about the skeletons’ very different reactions to Undyne because Axe extended a hand to you and Crooks. As soon as your fingertips brushed his smooth, warm bones, everything went dark again.

In the few seconds it took your eyes to communicate the view of a once-opulent throne room to your poor confused brain, a glowing blue spear appeared and slammed into the ground so close to you that you felt the force of the impact thrumming up the shaft of the weapon. If Axe hadn’t yanked you backwards, you would’ve been impaled. Where had it even come from?

“UNDYNE WAIT! THIS HUMAN IS A FRIEND!” You followed the direction of Crooks’ voice to see an armor-clad monster with a wild mane of crimson hair. She held another glowing blue spear, and her single yellow eye focused on you with murderous malice. You staggered backwards from the force of her glare. 

“No human is a friend to monsters,” Queen Undyne roared, launching a volley of her spears at you. You resigned yourself to your doom, regretting that your rescue attempt had been such a short-lived failure.

A wall of bones erupted from the tiles of the floor, blocking the attack. Crooks and Axe both stood next to you, arms outstretched to summon the defensive maneuver. More spears struck the bones, causing them to shudder, but they remained standing. You turned wide, panicked eyes to Axe, searching for some explanation or reassurance.

“can you hold her off?” Axe asked Crooks, who nodded somberly. The stocky skeleton grabbed your arm and dragged you down a hallway of soaring pillars coated thickly in cobwebs and floor to ceiling windows of cloudy, cracked glass. Away from the immediate danger, you began to tremble. Tears welled up in your eyes.

Axe pulled you close, wrapping you in the safety of his arms and gently rubbing your back. He made soft shushing sounds, and you realized that your tears had turned into terrified sobs. Your body shook, and you hiccuped, trying to catch your breath. Axe held you until the overwhelming wave of emotion subsided.

“i’m so sorry. i thought maybe we could talk some sense into Undyne. she and my brother used to be really close, but the last human who came through here… well, that human killed a lot of monsters and stole the SOULs that we had collected towards breaking the barrier. they left us with nothing but despair and dust, and Undyne blamed herself for not stopping them. it… affected her.” Once again, Axe looked guilty.

“How can we convince her that I’m trying to help?” You gripped your backpack with determined hands. You didn’t gather these SOULs for nothing, and you didn’t plan to leave the starving monsters in the Underground without at least making an effort to save them.

“you aren’t going to convince her of anything.” You opened your mouth to protest, but Axe laid a phalange against your lips to silence you. “i want you to get out of here. it’s not safe, and i would never forgive myself if something happened to you.”

“What about breaking the Barrier?”

Loud crashes sounded from the Throne Room. Axe shot a quick glance over his shoulder before pushing you further down the hallway. “i need to go help my brother. if we can convince Undyne to trust you, i’ll meet you at the Barrier to break it and free the monsters.”

“What if you can’t?” More sounds of destruction threatened to drown out your whispered words, but Axe was close enough to hear you over the cacophony. Sorrow filled his single eyelight.

“i won’t put you in danger.”

“That doesn’t answer my question!” Actually, it did answer your question, and the implications left you frantic with worry for him. You wanted to explain how you felt about him, why his plan tore your heart to pieces, that you couldn’t just leave him behind, but the sounds of battle were approaching quickly. 

Crooks slid backwards into the pillar-lined hallway, kicking up dirt. He held bone attacks in his gloved hands, and he used them to deflect wave after wave of spear attacks. The barrage of attacks drove him backwards again, closer to you and his brother. Axe stepped between you and the sound of Undyne’s war cries.

Turning, he cupped your cheek in one large, bony hand. His eyelight drank you in as if to memorize every feature of your tear-streaked face. He leaned forward and kissed your forehead. “go,” he murmured, pressing his forehead to yours.

Then he was gone, teleporting to the entrance of the hallway to join Crooks with bone attacks flying. 

If you stayed, it would only distract him. He wanted you to go, to be safe. It took every bit of willpower in your body to walk away, to step through the Barrier without him, knowing that he never would’ve fought Undyne if it wasn’t for your meddling.

You waited.

And waited.

The seconds stretched out, each one lasting a thousand excruciating years.

You waited.

-

Axe curled up on the couch, full to bursting from a delicious dinner prepared by his brother. Yawning, he rested his skull in your lap, and you gently stroked his scapulae, smiling as he began to doze. He no longer feared nightmares. In fact, he rarely dreamed at all anymore. After all, what would be the point in dreaming?

Life on the Surface far surpassed anything that his subconscious could fabricate, and he already lived that dream every single day, with you.

INDEX

[succulentsunrise]

Hm how about prompt 26 with Grey x Gauche please Sun 🥺💕? Thank you so much~!

26 from this prompt list! Thank you 🥰 hope you like it!! It references some events that happened in the manga, so if you haven't read up to chapter 266, beware of spoilers!

(also yes, if the title sounds familiar, it is a reference to that 😉)

Pairing: Grey x Gauche Note: SFW, fluff with small bits of hurt. ———————————————————

Truth Untold

Act 1 -

I feel like I can do anything with him, Grey thought as Gauche was carrying her on his back. To anyone else it would have looked like Gauche was carrying his double. Grey was still maintaining her disguise as him. Her heart was still racing from the battle’s success. She was in a kind of a high - even her twisted ankle didn’t feel that bad at that very moment. She and Gauche had defeated a member of the Eye of the Midnight Sun together! If her squadmate had been the type to get excited, Grey would have probably high-fived him in no time. Gauche wasn’t like that, however. He was serious and stern.

Gauche was dependable.

Soon after that, the two of them walked into a trap. It was almost laughable, if they weren’t in lethal danger! They had simply walked towards Charmy, who had been sleeping...and now they were captured. Grey panicked easily - she knew this too well. The vines that had wrapped around both of them were not even that tight, but she didn’t know what to do to slip out of them. They were sucking their magic away. She struggled uselessly against them, the previous high giving way to pure fear.

Then, that calm voice whispered to Grey.

When her mind retreated to jumble and fear, Gauche’s voice brought to her what she needed: direction. Her body obeyed before her mind even figured out what Gauche’s plan was. She trusted his plan fully. She trusted him. It wasn’t for naught - her magic and his cunning freed them from the trap. Grey landed to the ground with a small pained noise, as her twisted ankle complained about the rough landing.

Gauche’s calm voice addressed her. Grey turned to look at him, but he wasn’t looking at her. His gaze was to the side, one hand scratching the back of his neck. She hadn’t seen him do that very often. He didn’t compliment people often - perhaps that’s why. She had only seen that kind of sincerity in his eyes when he spoke of his little sister. Even if he only complimented her magic, Gauche was encouraging her. It made Grey feel rather fuzzy inside, enough to make her cheeks turn a little warm. She hadn’t expected that from Gauche of all people. She was about to smile, but something else caught her attention - smoke was coming out of her. Her disguise, her magic, was coming undone! In an instant that same old panic overwhelmed her - she wasn’t ready for Gauche to see her! What if he recognized her! She hadn’t prepared for that: it wasn’t a scenario she had practised and played out in her head yet! As the handsome features she had worn turned into her own round face, Grey hid behind her hands. She could feel her cheeks redden with embarrassment, and the knowledge made it worse. A nervous noise left her before she could stop it, only increasing her embarrassment. If only she could control this reaction!

Gauche’s and Charmy’s voices reached Grey’s ears, but she could barely concentrate on them. She peeked from between her fingers, noticing that Gauche wasn’t even looking. That eased her beating heart a little - but not much. Charmy’s clear voice came closer, trying to calm her down. It was sweet, but all Grey wanted to do was to disappear. To be someone else. If she only had mana.

At least Gauche wasn’t looking. That was a relief! - and yet - somehow - disappointing?

No, it was definitely a relief.

Act 2 -

I wonder what he thinks of me, Grey thought. The three of them were gathered around a table: Grey, Gauche and Gordon. The others were on missions or visiting the town. They had originally just eaten together, but thanks to Gordon, they were now pondering whether to play something together. Gauche had tried to withdraw as always, but they had managed to convince him to stay for one game. Grey was glad he had decided to stay. She liked to think part of it was because of her, but that was what had made her wonder in the first place - Gauche saw her as weird, right? Well, it was no good thinking about it right now. If she got embarrassed, she’d just enforce that view! How Grey wished that she could control that in any way, but that was not how it worked. She got so easily anxious...

Gordon brought cards and they began playing. It was easy enough of a game to get into. It distracted Grey from her thoughts. The objective was to get all the cards to oneself by keeping a lookout for a specific type of a card, and when it would appear, by slapping the accumulating card pile. Whoever managed to slap the pile first would get them all. Gauche was very good at it - he had excellent reflexes and a competitive playstyle. Gordon was much slower, taking his time to enjoy the game. Grey felt a little too anxious to make such quick movements. She wasn’t always sure it was the right card, and as she hesitated, Gauche managed to slap it. It went so poorly for her, that she lost all her cards. She only had one round to save herself and that was only if she managed to get a slap out. While being out of the game would be in some way a relief, Grey had to admit she was having fun. She liked watching how confidently Gauche played and how his eyes followed the way the two of them placed the cards into the pile on their turns. She didn’t want the game to be over yet. So Grey steeled herself, readying herself to best Gauche: she would get the next slap! She watched like a hawk for the next card. A round passed, another one - her hand was twitching from anticipation. She had noticed Gauche’s gaze on her. He had noticed her concentration, but there was something else as well. No, Grey shook her head, she had to keep her attention on the cards! As she thought that, Gordon placed a card on the pile. The card. Quick as lightning, Grey extended her hand, noticing that Gauche was doing the same. Their hands struck the card almost at the same time, slapping on top of each other. She could feel his strong hand on hers, more gentle than she expected - and perhaps because of that, Grey anxiously jumped up from her chair and withdrew her hand. Realizing what she had done brought red warmth to her cheeks. She quickly hid her face with her hands, not wanting the others to see that she had gotten embarrassed. She was ashamed of it. She barely managed to get words out, mumbling something about getting scared.

Grey heard Gauche let out a ‘tsk’ noise, and the chair moved. She peeked from behind her fingers to see Gauche standing up. His face was turned away from her, but she could feel the negative aura around him. He was clearly done with the game. She had done this, hadn’t she? The guilt tied her stomach in knots. She watched as Gauche began walking upstairs, looking at his own hand briefly. The one she had touched. Grey sat down to the floor and hugged her knees. Her feelings for Gauche were clear: she wanted to be close to him and she wanted him to like her. Yet, everytime, she managed to ruin it somehow. Maybe there was nothing there. Maybe even with all her knowledge gathered from observing people, maybe she was wrong this time. Maybe Gauche just tried to support her, and she was making it more than it was.

The thought gnawed at Grey’s heart.

Act 3 -

I want him to see me, Grey thought as she sat by the white bed. She felt very tired and hopeless. Gauche had gotten seriously injured in the last fight. She had healed him - according to the court healer, Owen, completely. She didn’t know what to think about that. She didn’t want to think about it. So many terrible things had happened. Even their Captain was gone - no, taken - and a lot of the members were dealing with in their own ways. Grey sighed, her gaze on Gauche. He was bound to wake up any moment now. She hoped it was true. She wanted at least someone to stay by her side. She felt a small twinge of anxiousness at the prospect of Gauche remembering what she had said to him when she had healed the wound - look at me, she had said - and moved her gaze away from him. It was true, though. He had been by her side and supported her. It was easier to do things when someone confirmed what her anxiety doubted. Gauche was the calm harbour in the sea of emotions. Even if he couldn’t erase the embarrassment or anxiety itself, he helped alleviate it. He helped deal with it.

The rustle of sheets caught Grey’s attention. Gauche had woken up. He was sitting upright, looking around him. He seemed ready to go. Grey looked at him quietly, her heart catching onto her throat. He swung his legs to the side and rose up. As he turned to leave, Grey took a light hold of his hand, nervousness beating in her chest. She watched as his gaze turned to her, surprised perhaps, angry - the storm was raging inside him this time.

“Stay,” Grey asked, looking up to him from her chair.

Gauche looked at the delicate hold of his hand. Silence fell as he simply stood there.

Two heartbeats drummed as one.

Slowly, Gauche sat down back at the bed, never breaking the gentle hold of his hand. They looked at each other. Grey could see they were both uncertain. They were both waiting, expecting - wondering. Determination built up inside of her. Yes, she wanted him to see her. Grey stood up, her gaze strangely steady. She could hear her heartbeat in her ears. It thrummed wildly.

Gauche's hold was a little stronger, as if gently pulling Grey towards him. She took a step and gently leaned forward, one hand raising to his jaw. The surprise on his face made her stomach twist and hands sweat, but then his gaze dropped lower - to her lips. Grey closed her eyes and kissed him. It was a clumsy, light meeting of lips, bringing great warmth to her face. She flushed completely red. She would have likely withdrawn, if Gauche's hand wouldn't have moved behind her neck and pulled her closer - the next kiss being as clumsy as the first one, but even better. Grey didn't want to move away from him anymore.

They had found happiness in each other's arms.

[free-pancakes]

Dreams and Nightmares

Summary: Canon-Divergence fic

Hange barely survives the final fight against Eren, and is saved by inheriting the Beast Titan from Zeke Yeager in the end. However, the Scouts soon find that this would come with a heavy price--particularly at Levi's expense.

Chapter 2/? Chapter 1 crossposted to ao3 here: link

Notes: Didn't expect this quick of a turn around for the next chapter, but i couldnt sleep last night, so i finished it! hope you all like it <3

CHAPTER 2

Night fell, moonlight peeking through the open window and a dim lantern lit up the small room. Jean walked holding two cups and a pot of freshly brewed tea. He stared at Hange sitting up in bed, who was pretending to read the book in her hands. However, this didn't fool him--clearly something else was on her mind. Jean had never seen Hange like this and it distracted him, so much so that he accidentally missed the cup and poured some of the piping hot tea onto his hand.

He inhaled sharply, shaking out his hand from the burn, his eyes bulging in pain. For whatever reason, a distant memory of Sasha came to mind, laughing at him when he spilled hot coffee onto his hand once before—he whipped his head back to face Hange, hoping she’d react the same way. But to his disappointment, she continued to stare down, her brows still furrowed in a tired frown.

He walked over to her, replacing the book with a cup of tea and sat on the bed next to her. They sat for awhile, sipping tea without a word.

The silence made Jean uneasy—it was not the Hange he knew. And earlier... well that was something he never expected to do. Hange had always been a shoulder to cry on, for so many years. To him or any of the 104th…Hange was someone who never broke, at least in their eyes. And the events of this morning simply shook him and Armin to their core.

All of them had been worried sick, starting when Hange oddly burned up with a fever immediately after the battle, remaining unconscious ever since. And now that she finally woke up, she immediately returned with a genuine fear of Levi? He didn’t know what was wrong, and he wanted nothing but to help Hange. But he could think of nothing else but let her cry. He couldn’t think of a way to cheer her up like she used to do for him and everyone else.

It took her hours to calm down since she woke up that morning.

“Jean.”

He turned to Hange, happy to hear her voice finally, although weak and raspy after being out for a whole week.

“Can you... tell me what happened? The last thing I remembered was... falling...”

Jean calmly told her everything, and most importantly, explained that Levi saved her by having her inherit the Beast Titan from Zeke. Luckily from the events of the battle, the titan curse was no longer in effect in that now, all the remaining titan shifters would be able live a full life. However, they would would live the rest of their lives still having the ability to use the power of their titan, and they would each be the final wielder.

“I see...”

Hange felt dizzy, her head reeling with thoughts and hypotheses. Jean’s story seemed to fall in line with what she had been thinking over the past couple hours, though.

And that made her heart drop.

The dream she had while she was out, was not dream at all, but real memories from Zeke Yaeger. It all lined up--this had to be what had happened right before she found Levi half-dead in the grass that horrible day.

“It seems… that Zeke’s memories have entangled themselves into my own.”

Jean’s jaw dropped slightly, and locked eyes with Hange. She quickly looked away with shame. Jean took her hand—“Hange-san, it’s not your fault.”

“But it is, Jean!” she yelled, angry. Her memories of the battle bled in and out of her head, patchy flashes of Levi carrying her, risking his life when she was pretty much a goner. And now here she was, thanking him with a literal slap at the wrist, nothing but deep and utter hurt in his eyes as she cowered in fear of him. It was her fault that she wasn’t strong enough to separate Zeke’s memories from her own.

“Every time I’ve tried to think of Levi as I’ve sat here, his expression is replaced by one filled with hatred, and all I feel is the pain Zeke endured. I felt... blood dripping from my wounds, and... Levi holding up a blade to my face, his eyes cold and unrecognizable...”

Jean stared at Hange, wide-eyed. The thought of Levi hurting Hange was absolutely preposterous to him.

“You all had woken me up in the middle of a memory—I was, Zeke. I think. Levi didn’t recognize me, and dug his blade deep into the wounds I already had, and... I had this urge to hurt him. And I... I—“

Hange buried her face into her hands, guilt eating her alive—she had wanted to kill him in that moment. Obviously, this had to be what Zeke was feeling before he sent the wagon into a fiery explosion, but it felt so real. It was too real, and she almost felt like she couldn’t separate Zeke’s emotions from her own. She felt like those feelings were becoming one and the same. She couldn’t remember if she even tried to fight it in the dream. If she couldn’t fight for Levi in a dream, how could she trust herself not to hurt him now?

She explained all of this to Jean, and soon felt herself fall into panic, hyperventilating, overwhelmed at all of this. It was all beginning to feel like one, horrible nightmare. Once Jean helped her calm down, he begged her to rest. She wanted to keep gnawing at her memories, trying to separate them from Zeke’s, but exhaustion quickly fell over her. Sleep tugged at her eyelids, and before she drifted off, she quietly asked Jean not to tell Levi about anything she had said. She didn’t want Levi to feel any more upset than how she made him feel this morning.

Jean breathed out, his heart wrecked seeing the person he looked up to the most crumbling before his eyes. The only comfort he had now was seeing her face relaxed as she drifted off to sleep, her chest rising and falling evenly. All he knew was that he had to talk to Armin about this, maybe even Annie and Reiner—he thought titan shifters would be the best people to ask for help in this case, it’s not like he had any advice for something like this. But not telling Levi? That man knew when he was lying from a mile away.

Jean quietly closed the door behind him. He sighed, and turned, almost yelping out in surprised. Levi stood right in front of him, and he almost smacked right into him.

“Oh Levi, umm, Hange-san is asleep.” He stared at the reddened skin glowing under Levi’s eyes. Had he been... crying? Jean hesitated, but figured it’d be safe for Levi to go in now. He knew he wouldn’t wake Hange anyway. He stepped aside, pushing the door open for him.

“Thanks, Jean,” Levi said softly, without turning around.

“O-of course, Captain,” Jean responded before hurrying off to find Armin, avoiding any opportunity for Levi to ask him if Hange told him anything about what happened.

Levi stepped in, staring at Hange lying in the bed just as she had all week, watching her chest rise and fall rhythmically. He wanted to be happy, but all he could feel was anger as he replayed Armin’s voice in his head for the hundredth time.

“Captain, there may be a chance... well, it’s quite common to have realistic dreams when you inherit a titan--essentially reliving memories of previous shifters. And considering you didn’t have the best relationship with the previous Beast Titan...”

Levi grit his teeth—he thought he had defeated Zeke once and for all, that once he fulfilled his promise to Erwin, he could finally move on. He never imagined that it could get any worse, but it just did.

Even in death, Zeke was trying to steal the last good thing that tethered him to this earth. How could he fight someone who was no longer living? He crouched down at the foot of Hange’s bed, and buried his head in his knees. What did it matter to be considered “humanity’s strongest” if he couldn’t save any of his friends in the end?

He felt darkness swirl around him like a storm cloud. He’d say he was utterly hopeless, but he had one thing to keep him going—Hange was alive.

If she couldn’t handle him being with her while she was awake… then so be it. It was painful to think about, but he loved her enough to do just that, if it meant she could live the rest of her life happily, even without him immediately by her side. But he could only hope that this would be the absolute, last resort.

Levi stood up, his eyes softening as his gaze fell upon Hange. He walked up next to her and reached out his hand. Before he could touch her, he hesitated, flashes of the fear in her eyes permeating his mind. His hand shook, but he was soon able to steady at it as he focused on listening to Hange’s even breaths. Levi carefully placed his hand on her head, combing her soft, brown hair in between his fingers. He leaned down and planted a gentle kiss on her forehead before leaving the room, stealing one last glance at Hange before closing the door.

Armin thought it’d be best he’d stay away from Hange for at least a week, let her rest and sort out what it meant for her to hold the power of the Beast Titan. Levi was hesitant, but he trusted Armin.

He could do it. Only for Hange.

Just a week, he thought. And then he could see her again. He balled his hands into fists once more, and let the tears fall as he stood outside the room.

[yodawgiherd]

Cabin at Nighttime

>>>Read on AO3<<<

Aaand there is the second part of modern cottagecore, more M-rated, so beware if that is not your cup of tea.

For Mikasa, it was like watching movie scenes unfolding in front of her eyes. It could happen anytime around the cabin, during any activity, if there was a pattern to it then she failed to see it. Yet while the images bled to reality, Mikasa always knew that is real and what isn’t - the underlying feeling of sadness and abandoned duty that followed these visions made them easy to identify. When she walked to the edge of the small forest, she saw dream Eren chopping wood, his hair in that unfamiliar undercut. She saw him carrying a huge fish, a proud smile pulling at his lips. She also witnessed a lot of intimate moments, hugs, and gentle kisses scattered all around the cabin, and if it wasn’t her as one of the actors Mikasa would feel like intruding. It was so precious, what the two of them had, but there was that sadness every time, the feel that it was just a utopia, a daydream. The dread wasn’t caused only by the mission they ran from to be together, but a new faint feeling tingled its way into Mikasa’s bones.

It was a few scenes. In one, Eren was coughing into a handkerchief, and when he pulled it away from his mouth it was tainted red. In the next, Mikasa was watching him struggle with a log, tears in her eyes before she quickly crossed the distance to help him. All these visions were drenched in that sad feeling, in the helplessness, it made her own eyes water. Not from the pain this time, but from the tragedy of it all.

“He was dying.”, she said out of nowhere, making Eren look up from the small fire he was cultivating.

He knew right away of who Mikasa spoke.

“Why? Was he sick?”

“Yes…” a tingle, “Or no, it was more like… a curse?”

“Curse?”

“Yes, a curse that was killing him, and he didn’t have much time left.”

“Was there no cure?”

Mikasa shook her head, suddenly overwhelmed by a wave of hopelessness. Eren must have felt it because he abandoned the fire in favor of sitting next to her, wrapping her shivering form in a hug. Closing her eyes she pressed her body close to his.

“Poor guy,”, Eren stated, “Ran away to be with the love of his life and still got cursed to die young. Dude can’t catch a break.”

“Eren..”, she frowned at him but he kissed it away with an easy smile.

Mikasa had to remind herself that Eren didn’t feel the presence like she did. Sure, he was the understanding and supportive boyfriend who did everything in his power to make her feel better, but he didn’t have these nightmares, these visions. His mind wasn’t weighted down by the impending doom, creeping around the corners of the cabin.

So why stay, one could ask. Why stay in the place where Mikasa saw ghosts around the corners? The answer was simple – it was a gut feeling. Mikasa felt right here, almost as if she came home after years and years of being abroad. Yes, there was sadness and guilt but there was also joy and happiness and it all mixed in an addictive way. Most importantly, she knew that it was correct to be here, the universe demanded it.

To be completely honest, Eren had a tiny fear that he might be bored at the cabin, his brain hardwired to all the action living in a city brought. It turned out to be completely wrong because he was anything but. Instead of twiddling his thumbs, he was now fuzzing over Mikasa ever since her small collapse, making sure that she has everything she could ask for. As a doctor, he knew that these visions might be a symptom of a mental illness, but she wasn’t showing anything else apart from them. Mikasa wasn’t delusional, she didn’t confuse reality and her dreams, she could answer his questions clearly and correctly. For now, he kept it as an open topic, making a mental note to ask Hitch about it once they get back to the city. He could call her, but the situation wasn’t urgent and he would very much prefer to hear her opinion over a few drinks.

The place was something else, and if Mikasa didn’t like it so much he would probably call it a shack instead. At least it had running water, a fact that Eren was very grateful for. With technology and the hustle of the city far beyond them, they spent their time doing downright childish and primitive things. They swam, splashing around in the cold ocean water like careless kids. They hiked, taking in the natural beauty of the countryside. With Mikasa not having another one of her episodes, Eren even left her alone for a bit and tried fishing, only to discover that he is terrible at it. Staring at the bait, unmoving in the water, he couldn’t suppress a groan. Damn water creatures, they must be plotting against him. His evening got marginally better once he returned, seeing Mikasa preparing the outside table for dinner.

“What did you catch?”, she asked with a smile, obviously seeing that Eren wasn’t carrying any fish.

“My love for you.”, he replied before producing a small flower he picked, offering it as a gift.

Mikasa accepted it, putting it into her hair, and the hour spent being taunted by fishes just didn’t matter anymore. It was the 21st century, so they weren’t dependent on Eren’s ability, or rather inability, to fish - the food they brought would do. Cooking it over the small fire, they ate in relative silence, taking in the embrace of nature they found themselves in. After that, Eren produced a few more sweet treats from his bag and to Mikasa’s delight prepared hot chocolate and marshmallows. The shadows grew long and the evening steadily progressed into the night while they huddled on the bench, bundled in a blanket and with Mikasa once again shamelessly abusing the heat Eren’s body produced.

“Did you have any more visions?”, he asked cautiously, rubbing her shoulder.

“A few, but they were very faint.”, she snuggled closer into his embrace, “But I have this strange feeling while I’m here.”

“What’s that?”

“I think… I feel like Mikasa was pregnant.”

“Well damn, the brats were faster than us?”, Eren snickered, “Guess they didn’t have careers to focus on.”

“They did.”, Mikasa disagreed, “They had a whole mission of saving the world. They abandoned it to be together.”

“Romantic.”, with a gentle hand, Eren dragged his fingers through Mikasa’s hair, loving the silkiness of the natural black and the few artificially red strands, “Yet sad at the same time.”

“Very sad.”

“It does bring an interesting question.”, Eren continued,  “Would you abandon your career to be with me?”

Mikasa thought about it, deeply and carefully. She loved fighting, loved the freedom she had in the ring, loved working on herself and her body. Overcoming obstacles and winning against impossible odds made her feel strong, invincible. But despite all these facts, despite her loving MMA so much, she knew the answer.

“I would. Both fighting and modeling, for you I’d do it.”

“I think I would too, even if it would be tearing me up inside. If I couldn’t help people anymore, couldn’t set them free from their injuries…”, he took a deep breath, his chest expanding where Mikasa leaned on it, “Still, you are way too important for me. I would drop it all to be with you because living without Mikasa in my life is not worth it.”

Mikasa fell asleep out here, bundled up with Eren, but she woke when he carried her inside and put her to bed. Why? Because that old thing creaked terribly.

“Sorry…”, he murmured, making her snicker.

“Hardly your fault.”

“I’d prefer if you slept peacefully.”

“Is it because of the visions? I told you not to worry, only the first one was painful.”

She got up, stretched a bit, and went to change into her sleeping clothes. Eren mirrored her actions, and for a moment the only sounds in the cabin were the rustles of fabric.

“Would you look at that.”, he remarked once they were both changed, “There is only one bed.”

“Guess we will have to share.”, she plopped down on it, making the bed creak again, “I hope that you will not try to take advantage of the situation, good sir.”

“I wouldn’t dare ma’am.”

To her surprise, Eren did just that, lying down and pulling the covers over himself at a respectful distance from her.

“I wish you a good night, lady Mikasa.”

Eren’s back to her, Mikasa looked with a raised eyebrow as he did exactly nothing. When the silence stretched, she poked him in the shoulder.

“Hey Eren, you know that it was a joke right. I would very much prefer if you did something very inappropriate to me.”

He turned, the moon reflecting in his eyes.

“Are you sure?”

“What, are you scared that sex might bring back more of the memories?”

“I don’t rightly know.”, he confessed, “You had a headache from touching a bench, I have no idea what your triggers are.”

“Babe, stop worrying for a second,”, Mikasa grabbed a handful of his hair, tugging his face to hers, “And kiss me, you fool.”

He did so, and then it was the familiar dance. Clothing was torn and thrown away from their bodies, careless where it would land, littering the interior. Only once they were bare to each other did Mikasa roll on her back with Eren falling on top, their mouths not leaving one another for a second. She opened herself up to him, letting him have all the control when he pinned her hands above her head, their fingers entwining together on the aged sheets. There was no resistance from her when their groins touched, when Eren pressed his hardness against her heat, forcing her body to arch so beautifully. Their lips mashed together, hard and bruising, and soon the lack of air made them pant. Mikasa breathed with tiny soft moans that somehow tugged at his heart at the same time as his groin. His love and adoration for her were absolute, both physical and spiritual. That was until he felt something very cold rub against his legs. Despite his primal hunger for her, Eren tore himself away from Mikasa’s lips.

“Geez, your feet are freezing.”

Her response was a giggle and even more insistent cold rub.

“Then warm me up.”

Seeing her smile and hearing her laugh was intoxicating, making Mikasa happy was very high on Eren’s priority list. Angling his head he licked a long stripe, all the way from her collarbone to her pierced earlobe.

“All right.”

And then he was kissing her again because he loved her more than anything, even with her freezing feet. There was no one else he could even imagine doing this with because no one was like Mikasa. He knew her body, he knew it so well, yet Eren traced his touch all over it, letting his hands go down from the restricting hold on her wrists. She was pinned beneath his weight but Mikasa did not mind it at all. And exploring he went, down her face that put the sun to shame to the small yet perky breasts that were now heaving with her breathing. Groping the area shamelessly Eren indulged himself, playing with Mikasa’s chest until her breaths grew even more desperate. Her nipples were coming to life underneath his touch reacting wonderfully when he thumbed the nubs. Soon he had them fully erect, just as his cock was. The pinch he planted on the left one made Mikasa groan into the kiss, a sound that was so sexy that Eren forced her to do it again by pinching the other one. Down the plane of perfectly defined abs that belonged on a statue and not a living person, and down still. Smugly ghosting over the apex of her legs, Eren’s hands anchored on her thighs instead, caressing those beautiful muscular limbs. Mikasa could feel him smirk into the kiss, he knew that he was ignoring the place where she wanted him the most. Patient, compliant for now, she would let him keep the lead. He never let her down before.

Reversing his descent, Eren slid his hands upwards over the toned legs, taking in a handful of her ass. It fascinated him and it would never stop doing so, because Eren was a weak man and the thing that he was groping was the most perfect ass that there was, fueling his primal desires to no end. A thing to worship, caress and care for every single day.

And still they kissed, breathless and growing more and more aggressive. Her tongue traced his upper lip, prodding inside and sliding alongside his wet muscle. Then it was Eren attacking, pulling her bottom lip between his teeth. Raw and dangerous yet sweet at the same time, it was like kissing and being kissed by a wild animal sometimes. Mikasa was practically panting when Eren left her mouth to bite her neck, pressing his face into that silky skin he loved so much. The pale was now marked by him, imprints of teeth and reddening marks he sucked into it, definitive proof of his conquest.

Above him, Mikasa let out a breathy laugh at all that. Sure, the bites hurt but they were immediately soothed by Eren’s tongue and lips, leaving only a pleasurable tingle behind. He could be rough but he was always there to kiss the hurt away, to let her know how loved Mikasa was. Eren could hurt her but it was a beautiful pain.

A new sting originating from her chest let Mikasa know that he was now at her breasts, ravaging them. He nipped at the underside, knowing she’s ticklish there, mixing her breathing with airy giggles. The dark nipples were already hard from his previous actions, and they felt great in his mouth when Eren pulled them in, sucking Mikasa’s breasts. And then the bite came a clamp of his teeth against the super-sensitive bud that had her crying out and arching from the bed. A pinch and roll on the other and Mikasa was shaking beneath him, her mouth open in cries and pleas.

Down he went, kissing everywhere he could, making every inch of her flawless skin as his. Her stomach, her beautifully muscled stomach, her sharp hips, the lines that guided him to the place where the fire originated in. His lips were here and there, scrape of teeth against the hipbone and gone before Mikasa took full notice, everywhere and nowhere at the same time. To say that it was driving her crazy would be an understatement. Eren had the gall to call her a tease?

She was almost begging, she almost reached down to push him there when Eren’s mouth arrived at the apex of her muscular thighs, taking a handful of her cheeks and spreading them open for him. Mikasa assisted him more than willingly, biting her bottom lip to keep the excited noises in. Eren went down on her so many times but it was something she always looked forward to, the amazing pleasure he could provide with his mouth was an experience to be enjoyed a hundred, thousand times over. It would do her no good to squeal like a schoolgirl because Eren would surely tease her for it later, but it was hard to keep it inside. Brushing the midnight bangs from her eyes Mikasa looked down, wanting to see him because Eren pleasuring her was an incredible sight. Many times she was tempted to snap a picture, a quick photo of his mouth between her legs, but didn’t do it yet. Maybe one day.

It was oddly satisfying, watching Eren between her spread thighs. The tiny part of her recalled those hurtful memories, the “I’ve always hated you Mikasa”, that pain that belonged to someone else. It was her Eren’s perfect copy who said that but look at him now. Fully devoted to her, to Mikasa’s pleasure, ignoring himself just so he can make her feel better. Hate was miles apart from what Eren felt for her, judging from his actions.

“Something funny?”, he asked, hot breath blowing over her womanhood.

Mikasa must have been smiling, she realized, smiling because she got to have this, not hate and suffering.

“No, I’m simply appreciating how nice you are to me, how attentive.”

He grinned up at her, keeping eye contact while he stuck out his tongue, licking her sex in a single wide stroke, all the way from the bottom to the top.

“This? I’m doing this solely for myself.”, his next words were a sultry whisper spoken so close to her sex that it looked like he was talking to her pussy, not to Mikasa, “I adore how you taste.”

Maybe to prove his point, maybe because he did enjoy it Eren dipped his head down to lick at her again. It wasn’t a service, it was an exchange, because Eren was in turn blessed by the sight of Mikasa’s bare stomach, tense abdominal muscles contracting with every whine and breath falling from the raven’s lips. His actions were slow and languid, licking her outsides but not dipping in yet, getting her properly worked up first. There was no rush, was there.

The two fingers that appeared by Mikasa’s lips were not a surprise and she took them eagerly into her mouth, sucking them. Once properly wet, he pulled them out and repositioned his hand between her slightly trembling thighs. Pulling his head back, Eren pushed them in and they both disappeared into her with a wet sound, making Mikasa moan out loud. A beautiful sound, that.

Eren's fingers dutifully re-explored every inch of Mikasa's sopping wet sex, made so by both her juices and his mouth, gliding from one area to the next with ease that comes from years of practice. And as always it drove Mikasa insane, her hips shifting because that smug bastard wasn’t doing what she wanted. Knowing her ticks so well, Eren ignored Mikasa’s clit that was begging for his attention beneath its hood, not touching her there in the slightest. Why? Because he loved seeing her desperate.

“Please…”, it finally came from her trembling lips, music to his ears, “Please, Eren…”

“Please what?”

“Please… do it”, her chest contracted, “… do it properly.”

It would be shameful to admit that Mikasa’s pussy was throbbing at this point, her clit so poor and unattended, but it was the truth. Eren had a thing for driving her arousal high, much higher than necessary, before doing it right. She was begging now, in that small voice that he could never say no to, and he didn’t want to in the first place. But when he moved down to obey and his cheek touched her inner thigh, Mikasa groaned.

“You have a stubble.”, she accused him, “Scratchy stubble at that.”

“It would appear so…”, to tease, Eren rubbed his face against her sensitive skin making Mikasa yelp and frown at him.

“Shave. Tomorrow.”

“I…”

“No buts.”, Mikasa reached down, grabbing his hair and angling Eren’s face back down, reminding him of his mission between Mikasa’s thighs.

“Now go on, please.”

Right. Spreading her open with his fingers, Eren dipped his tongue in, the tip of the wet muscle sliding inside her. She was scorching hot, faintly pulsing around his tongue and Eren knew that he can make these contractions much, much stronger. Delvin deeper he licked everywhere where he could reach, wiggling his tongue inside of her. At the same time his fingers attacked her clit, rubbing the tiny circles she liked, and Mikasa was finally being given the proper oral treatment. The insistent swirling of his tongue combined with the expert touches on her slowly stiffening nub as Eren was teasing it from under its hood. Letting her head fall on the bedding, she let her lover know just how much she appreciates him by moaning because that’s what he always wanted to hear. The sounds that Mikasa could make in her turned-on voice were better than any music.

He switched it up, sucked on her clit while fingering her, two digits moving in and out at a murderous tempo. The tip of his tongue stroked the bud languidly, teasing it from beneath the hood, and then his lips were wrapped around it again and he sucked. Hard. Mikasa lost control of both her voice and her hips and they were moving on their own, riding, fucking Eren’s face. Her thighs moved too, wrapping around his head and caging him in with no chance of escape.

Trapped, imprisoned by her muscular thighs, Eren had no other way out than to keep pleasuring her, but he would be lying if he said that he didn’t love when Mikasa got demanding. Surrendering to her, he crammed a third finger inside her tight pussy to join the two already there, feeling the stretch as she accommodated him. Mikasa was so incredibly hot like this, sweaty and moaning while her body shook and her beautiful face contorted in the intense pleasure he was giving her. This was heaven, this sight was paradise, and Eren was so incredibly blessed to be allowed to do this to her, to this goddess that was in his bed. He needed her to cum on his face, he needed to taste her and he needed it now.

Putting all of his experience and skill to action, Eren fingered her hard while abusing her clit with his mouth. And when he curled the fingers and pressed into that one special spot, when he let his teeth graze over her clit, Mikasa lost it. She came hard, mind-shattering orgasm ripping through her body as she drenched Eren’s face and he lapped at the sweetness, tip toying with her throbbing clit. Those strong legs squeezed him too and her hips lifted from the bed, beautiful muscles forced to contract by the waves of pleasure flying through her entire being. She was delicious and Eren made sure to lick everywhere where he could, even sucking her cum from his fingers. Yes, he adored the taste, but while he was so diligently pleasuring her through the orgasm, drawing it out and making it even better, Mikasa had another vision.

Normally, her sight went white while cumming, but now there was something else imprinted over the otherworldly nothingness. Eren’s face was hovering over her, but it was the one with short hair and not her version. His face was sweaty and a bit embarrassed when he spoke.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t hold myself back.”, not-Eren said in an ethereal voice. “I finished so fast…”

“Don’t worry.”, a phantom hand reached out to caress his cheek, “I don’t mind, it felt nice.”

“Not good enough,”, the other Eren disagreed, “I promise that I’ll make it up to you. I’ll get better with practice.”

Mikasa felt herself blushing, not only in one reality but in the other too, while the other Eren dipped his head down to kiss her. And that’s when the vision broke. Eren must have noticed it, must have heard her speak to his other self because his head shot up from between her legs.

“Hey? What’s wrong?”, he asked, eyes widening in alarm, “Did I do something wrong?”

“No, I..”, she held unto him, tightening her legs around his form and preventing Eren from fully pulling back, keeping him in, “Another memory, that’s it.”

“I thought that this was a bad idea. Am I going to get blueballed by myself? That would be somewhat next-level play.”

Mikasa chuckled.

“It wasn’t a bad memory, just unexpected.”, she reached out to smooth her fingers over the bedding, “Let’s say that we aren’t the only ones who went to town in a very similar cabin.”

“You did say that Dreamkasa was pregnant, so it’s only logical.”

She frowned at him for using that stupid nickname, but Eren’s cheeky grin didn’t budge as he climbed up her body until they were face to face again. His was wet, she noticed, as Eren never did mind having her essence all over himself. Mikasa would never admit it out loud but it was pretty hot.

“It was super sweet, they were inexperienced and oh so careful with each other.”

“I’d call myself a lot of things, but inexperienced is not one of them. Not with you around.”

“It felt good, I’m sure of that.”

“Better than me?”

“Oh Eren,”, she giggled, hands coming up to circle his wide shoulders, “Are you getting jealous of yourself?”

“Just..”, he moved low, his hot breath ghosting over her neck as he punctured the word with a bite, beginning a slow journey upwards.

“Answer”

Lick

”The”

Nip

”Damn”

Bite

”Question. ”

Kiss

”Mi”

Suck

”Ka”

Lick

”Sa”

Bite

And now he was at the top of her ears, teeth clicking against the piercings lodged into the goth’s vulnerable cartilage. He knew that the neck and ears were Mikasa’s weak points, and he abused the knowledge, fanning the fires of her just-orgasmed body.

“You! Of course that I prefer you.”, getting some self-control back, Mikasa pulled at his long hair to get Eren to face her, “I spent so long training you, what kind of teacher would I be if you sucked at sex.”

“Teacher? For a woman who almost died of shame after showing me her boobs for the first time, you have certainly grown. Miss possessive.”

“Of you? Always.”, she pecked him on the nose, “You’re mine.”

His hand went low, groping her naked ass.

“And you mine.”, he replied in a heated whisper, “All of you, even this ass. Did you know that it’s a perfect fit for the golden ratio?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Your ass is a Fibonacci perfection.”

For the sake of her mental health, Mikasa decided to ghost over that comment as Eren could be somewhat strange with his compliments. She knew he meant well, and that was good enough.

“Okay, it’s yours. Why don’t you stop stalling and make me feel good, hm?”, her voice was sultry now, eyes half-lidded, “Show me how much you have learned…”

A challenge.

“Didn’t you just come?”

“So?”, single fine raven eyebrow raised, “Can’t you do it again?”

“You’re insatiable.”

“Aah, but I believe that you will sate me,”, her divine hand went low, squeezing his cock between those strong and dexterous fingers, “Right?”

He breathed hard against her naked skin, thoughts clouding. How could Mikasa make him so desperate with a single touch, that was a question Eren could never answer. Maybe trying to take advantage of his weakened state, Mikasa hooked a leg over his waist and pulled, attempting to roll them over. When Eren resisted she stopped, not wanting to force herself on top. There was a time and place for measuring strength, and this old and creaky bed wasn’t it.

To get an explanation for his actions, Mikasa tugged at his hair, getting Eren to look at the question written on her face.

“There is no way I’m letting you be on top.”, he answered the unspoken query.

“What? Why?”

“Miki, if you don’t remember, let me refresh your memory.”, his touch was back, one hand tracing the outlines of her abs while the other squeezed her thigh, “You literally broke a bedframe by riding me, and it was a much firmer than this squeaky one that’s here.”

“But I…”

“I’m not sure about you, but I don’t want to spend the night on the floor.”

Mikasa sighed, ceasing her efforts to roll him over.

“Fine.”

“Don’t you worry…”, Eren drawled out the words, kissing her neck again, “I’ll take good care of you.”

And he was inside her, pushing in with one sharp thrust that made her eyes roll back and mouth drop open. He abused that fact straight away, dropping his tongue between her lips and letting her taste herself. She was everywhere, in every crook of his mouth, every part of his face, every inch of his tongue, reminding Mikasa of how strongly he made her cum. Back and forth he fucked into her with determination, sliding in easily as her sex was drenched. Her black nails were at his back, carving into the skin, marking him with bloody wings over the tattooed ones. The sounds were wet, her moans thick, but Mikasa was Mikasa and she was a beast, impossible to tame and difficult to please.

“More…”, she half-moaned into the messy kiss. “Harder…”

With a groan and a primal need ignited in his lower belly, Eren pushed up into a kneeling position. If Mikasa wanted more, if she wanted to be fucked harder, then who was he to question his queen? Picking her legs up he put them on his shoulder, both on the left, creating a rather tight passage to squeeze through. Holding her ankles together with one of his hands, Eren anchored himself with the other and resumed the moves from earlier, picking up the pace.

Mikasa’s vision was beginning to swim. Her sounds were rising, her chest was heaving more and more, the way she panted for air was making Eren harder than diamonds. She wasn’t idle either, her hands moved, playing with her own breasts while he watched. It was arousing as hell to see, the way her slender fingers rolled the erect nipples between them, when she pinched and moaned out loud. Now it was Eren who wanted, no, needed more, overtaken by a desire to give Mikasa everything she deserves.

He needed to be closer to her heat, closer to that divine being that Mikasa was, so he pushed forward to do so. One of her legs back on the bedding, Eren kept a firm hold on the other as he spread her as wide as she could go. Mikasa groaned at the burn his move produced in her muscles, her legs being forced into a very wide angle, but it was a slight ache and easily forgotten in the heat of passion. Mikasa’s ankle was now practically resting above her own shoulder as she was half-doubled over, this position possible only because of how flexible she was. She was completely open to him, wanting nothing more than to be fucked senseless, and Eren did his best to deliver - truly rutting into her, his hips slapping into her ass again and again and again and…

She was going to have welts on her butt tomorrow.

Mikasa was moaning in sync with his thrusts, her Ah-Ah-Ah so much sweeter and better than whatever Eren’s foul mouth could produce. She was loud, no shame in how she let her pleasure vibrate out from her throat and that was music to Eren’s ears. After all, there was no need to keep silent as the animals were the only ones who could hear them. If they did mind the sounds of their lovemaking, they didn’t say so.

Intertwining their fingers, Eren marveled at how small Mikasa’s hand looked in his, how delicate. But when she squeezed and the strength reminded him that she is no helpless flower, very far from it.

It was wet and loud and powerful when he moved in and out of her, his cock soaked by them, by whatever they were doing together. The bed creaked beneath every time he thrusted, but they didn’t care. It felt like heaven to move inside Mikasa because she was so hot and so incredibly tight that Eren could never wish for more. Years, eternity, he could spend it all right at this moment when he is fucking her raw and throbbing pussy, repeating the moves over and over, disappearing and appearing out of her pulsing sex. He could spend eternity, but his physical form disagreed. It was getting too much to handle because it was so perfect, and Eren was not the only one on edge. He could feel it inside, how she pulsed more rapidly, how impossibly tighter she grew, so much that even pulling himself out to push in again was an exertion, a workout for his abdominals.

Eren didn’t understand her dreams, her visions, he didn’t understand why they happened. He didn’t have the faintest idea why he would ever, in any reality or timeline, want to hurt Mikasa. She gave him two things in her existence - undying love and devotion, and Eren could never reject these gifts. But then her muscled sheath squeezed all around his member, deep inside her, and he was reminded of one more gift that loving Mikasa brought.

The best and most intense sex one could ever ask for.

He needed help, anything to push her over first because the wave was approaching and Eren knew he can’t win. Dropping his hand low he located her clit and pressed against it, the effects almost immediate as that nub was more than sensitive at this point. Mikasa’s eyes shot open, a loud groan falling from her mouth when Eren rubbed her weak place at an almost feverish pace. The bed’s creaking was very loud too, the wooden headboard banging against the wall, almost as if the old furniture was protesting against being so shamelessly soiled. He could feel Mikasa’s wetness leaking, trickling down his shaft and down over his balls that kept slapping against her ass, and he knew that she’s right there on the edge.

If he wanted to edge her, if this was one of the nights where he tied her up and tortured her, now would be the time to stop. But tonight was not such a night, so Eren kept moving, stimulating all her weak points, and that was good enough. Her body arched beneath him into that perfect bridge, while she made that adorable face only orgasming Mikasa Ackerman can do when the second climax overtook her. One day, one day he will snap a picture of it in the perfect moment and that will be his gift to mankind.

Her moaning got louder as she came, most likely stirring a few animals from their sleep outside, but Eren loved it. He adored how loud Mikasa could get when she let herself go, when she stopped caring who heard and let her pleasure truly show. Normally she was the silent type, and it was quite a shame because her voice was beautiful and Mikasa could carry a tune perfectly. It took a long time before she was comfortable enough to sing for Eren, but when she did it was an amazing experience. The few times when they visited a karaoke bar were still lodged in his brain.

Now, Eren was making her sing quite a different tune, and it was an achievement for him knowing how good she was feeling, so good that her insecurities melted away and she was loud. But that was not all, as making Mikasa cum first was better for a multitude of reasons – it made him feel great mentally, it made her happy, but also for the selfish reason of being inside her while it happened. There is no way to describe how amazing it felt when she climaxed around him, as her body contracted and released, rapidly repeating that pattern, how her walls collapsed around his shaft and massaged, milking him. In short, it was like the most expensive sex toy in the world made specifically for his cock. Unable and not willing to resist Eren came inside her, filling her with several spurts. Way too much to fit, some of it dribbled out and down on the poor bed, making Eren smirk. They would have to change the sheets and maybe burn the ones that were here now. Filthy didn’t even begin to describe it.

For now though, he pulled out and collapsed on his back next to his sweaty lover, listening to her agitated breathing. The haze covered them both like a blanket, the pure euphoria that occurs after climaxing, nothing but unbridled happiness. Mikasa closed her eyes for a second and Eren wondered if there aren’t more visions going on in her brain, but he wouldn’t pry. If she wanted to share them with him, she would, but they were hers. With a rustle of sheets she turned towards the window, staring out into the darkness and stillness of a forest night, pondering something. At first, Eren wanted to speak up but then the moonlight shimmered over her porcelain skin and his eyes were drawn to the wings on her back. There was no better symbol for her - she was an angel, incredibly free, and when Eren was with her he felt like he could fly.

Mikasa felt his lips at her back, pressing gentle kisses against the skin before he picked up her wrist and did the same there, nuzzling it.

“What are you doing?”, she asked, not even bothering with looking away from the dark forest.

“Admiring your tattoos.”

“Again?”

“I’ll never stop doing it.”, another kiss to her wrist, “They are beautiful, just as you are.”

She giggled and rolled over to rest on his chest, shifting their position. Now they were cooling down from it all, Eren’s hand wrapped around her and gently caressed her hip.

“Hey Miki?”

“Hmmm?”, she hummed from his chest, not stopping the movement of her little finger that traced patterns into the skin.

“What if we bought this.”

“What, the bed?”

“No…”, he snickered, “The cabin. It would be nice to have a getaway from the city and the location is amazing.”

“I thought you didn’t like it.”

“Eh, I’m warming up to it.”, he squeezed her slightly, “Plus with you here, the cabin can be ugly as sin, you are the only beauty I need in the whole world.”

Mikasa snickered and kissed the underside of his jaw for that.

“Way too cheesy.”

Ha, like that would make him stop.

“Well, I am a firm believer in Mikasa supremacy. You could say that it’s my religion.”

Groaning, Mikasa hid her face in Eren’s neck to mask the crazy smile on her lips. Must have been her jittered hormones after the intense sex, the endorphin high always such a wild ride. Because yes, it was cheesy as hell but it felt great to see how much he adores her, about as much as she loved him back.

“Can you stop simping for me and tell me more about the sudden cabin-buyout plan?”

“I’ll never stop simping for you Miki, but I will tone it down if it will make my queen happy.”, squeezing her again, Eren continued with the original train of thought,  “We can rebuild it you know, upgrade it so it’s up to the living standard of the twenty-first century. It’s the location that’s amazing, this close to both mountains and the ocean and not that far away from the city.”

Mikasa pondered Eren’s proposal for a moment, but she knew the answer already.

“Sounds good. We could have gatherings here too, invite friends to take a breather with us.”

“While I’d prefer being here only with you, I guess that we can tone it down a bit if guests were over.”

When she didn’t understand what he was implying, Eren grinned down at her.

“You are quite loud during sex, and the walls are thin…”

The slap she planted on his chest was a loud one, but it did nothing to stop his laughter. Bickering back and forth over nothings, Mikasa didn’t even remember how they ended up kissing but here it was. Soon there was the familiar hardness poking her stomach and with her own embers smoldering, Mikasa was more than up for it.

She rolled on top, proving that if she wanted to Eren had no chance of stopping her. Staring up into her twinkling grey eyes, his smile turned into a small frown on the prospect of spending the rest of the night on the cabin floor. Eren loved Mikasa to death, but she was very bad at controlling her strength in the heat of their passionate lovemaking, and when that combined with how unnaturally strong she was furniture was bound to get destroyed. Or him, for that matter, if the pain in his neck and the scratches Eren could feel on his back were any proof.

“Miki please don’t, I beg…”

“Shh, I promise that I’ll be gentle. Somewhat.”

She leaned back, pulling Eren with her.

“Sit up,” she demanded.

Her desired position was with Eren sitting and her in his lap, bodies all entangled together. Mikasa loved the closeness it brought, like this she could feel every breath, every twitch from her lover. Bracing herself up on her knees, she reached blindly behind herself and found Eren’s length, easily identifiable by how he hissed when her fingertips brushed over it. Yet that hiss was nothing compared to the sound he made once she began angling him, because she let the tip pass over her pounded pussy and then he was close to the other opening, the realization making his eyes wide.

“You want to…?”

“Shut up.”

Mikasa could never do this if he wasn’t so wet, but Eren was drenched and she wasn’t much better, some of the wetness found its way down when she squirted before. Still, it made her grit her teeth when she began sinking, feeling her ass stretched to its limits by his invading girth. Anal was always more difficult, and now when there was no lube or plugs in beforehand it was hard to accommodate what Eren gave her. This was something else yet she kept impaling herself, unyielding. Huffs of breath through her nose, whole body clenching, she worked herself down on his shaft, penetrating her tight muscle ring inch by inch.

The muscles in his neck bulged and Mikasa knew that he’s fighting himself not to thrust up into her, into that tight heat that was sliding down in such a slow, torturous tempo. It didn’t help that he could feel some of his cum leak out of her other opening, now unattended, pushed out by how her inner muscles were forced to work again. Why did this filthiness turn him on so much, that was a question Eren didn’t want to answer.

Instead, he focused on her, on how she felt around him, sinking lower and lower, taking it like a champ. It was Mikasa’s show, Eren was more or less an observer right now, letting her do what she wanted. Yet he had to praise her because there was nothing else like this in the entire world, no one else could be this amazing.

“F-Fuck Miki… You feel too good.”

“S-Shut up…”, she repeated, having trouble speaking too, being stretched so much in that other place.

To stop herself from speaking and to shut Eren up too she mashed their faces together into a messy and wild kiss. And then finally, after several more up-and-down slides, she was fully sitting on his lap, his cock lodged deep inside her ass. It made her pant, the physical exertion, her abdominals fluttering. Watching those muscles move erratically, bathed in sweat as they were, that was a fucking beauty on its own. Eren didn’t even dare to move now, lest he disturbs the short rest Mikasa was taking, her head on his shoulder and the hot breath washing over his back. That was until she nudged his face with her nose, getting his attention.

“Help me…”, she moaned weakly.

“O-Okay... Okay…”, thinking was hard with her all around him, but Eren managed, “Let’s do this together.”

Mikasa nodded and braced herself on her knees while Eren grabbed her hips, lifting her. Together they moved, with Eren helping her along the ride. It was slow, way slower than how she rode him normally, but anal was always different. Mikasa circled her hips, rocked them back and forth, stretching herself more around his girth. Breathe in, breathe out, the unpleasant sting was fading and being replaced by pleasure as her butt got used to having Eren’s cock inside of it. Slow yet picking up speed, it was under Mikasa’s dictatorship with Eren playing the role of a helpful lackey. Willingly.

Her knees scrambled on the bedding and she was pushing herself up by the hands on Eren’s shoulders. Mikasa deemed herself ready for the next stage of her plan, which was finding a better purchase on the bed. Her feet finally found their place and she was squatting now, right on Eren’s lap. And then it was time to truly ride him.

Up and down she bounced, propelled by her powerful thighs, her ass sliding all over his cock, squelching it in its tight embrace. The repeated penetration finally convinced her muscles to give way, albeit just a tiny bit. It was igniting a primal need in her, the way he rubbed her insides, the tiredness burning away. Maybe it was because of her athletic body but Mikasa caught a second wind, spiraling down into a nearly animalistic state. The need for more was back, stronger than ever, so slapping her ass down onto Eren’s poor hips, she grinded into him hard.

“Come on, come on…”, it was coming through her gritted teeth, her gray eyes scorching Eren with the intensity.

“You keep saying how much you love my ass, right?.”, Mikasa practically growled the order, made wild by the overflowing feeling, “Show me.”

Normally, such words would never leave her lips but they were both far beyond normal. She was wild but Eren was no better, teeth clenched to match her. Bracing his feet against the bed he did as she asked, thrusting up to meet her descent half-way. He moved up, Mikasa moved down, their hips slapping into each other in the middle with a smack. Her ass sat down on him hard, crotch loudly protesting against being crushed like this. To help, to assist his feral goddess, Eren slipped his hand down to that squelching wet place. Spreading her open he toyed with her clit, and the multiple stimulations made Mikasa practically howl like a beast. She was an animal right now, an animal in heat reduced to its primal instincts, and Eren was fortunate, or unfortunate, enough to be her chosen mate.

Close, so close, the electricity was everywhere inside her, tickling her brain. Eren attacked with his mouth too, his teeth sinking into her neck before coming up to claim her lips. The kiss was bruising, the way she bounced on his lap too, and several things were nearing their breaking point. Mikasa, because Eren’s fingers at her clit were a godsend. Eren, because Mikasa kept grinding her ass down on him with fervor, her butt clenching so hard around his length that it hurt, reminding him how incredibly strong his lover was. And also the bed, because the old thing was not constructed to withstand this amount of wild pounding. It was a race, race on who would break first, and fortunately for all that was Mikasa.

With a last slam of her hips that pinned him and shook the bed so much that it nearly fell apart, Mikasa’s head tipped back, a wild scream tearing out of her throat as she squeezed him so hard that Eren swore out loud. It was the wild contraction of her muscles that pushed him over the edge to follow her, his cock spurting inside her with his second release, filling her ass with a smaller load. Done, finished and over, Mikasa slipped out of his hands and fell to her side, pulling herself away from his body. They laid there, side by side, catching their breath. The whole world seemed to take a breather, the animals outside wondering what kind of terrible duel took place in the usually peaceful cabin.

“God damn, Miki,”, Eren finally managed, “If I knew that a cabin would drive you this wild I would take you here ages ago.”

She chuckled, but a gust of wind from the opened window made her shiver. The sweat was cooling down and it was rather cold outside. Instinct at this point, she rolled back towards Eren’s heat, laying her hand on his chest, tangling their legs together and leeching shamelessly.

Mikasa was tired, tired from her performance and the long day, tired in the best possible way. She stilled completely and didn’t move, their bodies mashed together in one sweaty and dirty mess. Breathing hard, she could feel Eren’s chest contract beneath her, betraying that he too needed a small break from their intensive lovemaking. Yet resting while there is the mixture of your climaxes running down your thighs is hardly hygienic, so Eren stroked Mikasa’s back to get her attention, fingers tapping the bumps of her spine.

“C’mon, let’s abuse the running water and get cleaned up. This bed needs all its sheets changed or burned and I’m pretty sure that you shouldn’t be sleeping with a double creampie between your legs.”

She took a shuddering breath.

“Eren, I hate you and your dirty mouth so much.”

“Nonsense. Remember how hard you came when I ate you out?”

Done, Mikasa hid her face in Eren’s shoulder, ignoring how his body shook with the laughter.

The shower was surprisingly big, for a rundown shack like this, and it wouldn’t be Eren if he didn’t take advantage of the fact. Mikasa gasped a bit when his finger slid into her still-sensitive sex, looking at him over her shoulder.

“I told you to wash my back, not finger me.”

“I have to my sure that every part of you is clean.”, he leaned closer, “Before I make you filthy again.”

Closing her eyes, Mikasa decided not to fight her fate and let herself enjoy it. The feeling of Eren’s finger was soon joined by another one, and now there were two explorers inside her, poking and probing at the walls. Curling his hand Eren’s palm pressed against Mikasa’s clit, rubbing it slightly and getting her worked up properly. Her lover was right when he called her insatiable because Mikasa’s libido could be nigh bottomless. She blamed Eren – he knew her too well, knew her body better than his own at this point and all of her weak points were etched into his memory. He knew how to touch, how to stroke, where to press and rub and in what intervals. Mikasa’s body was a terrifying weapon, powerful and deadly in the ring, but Eren could turn it into a putty mush in his hands, all her lean muscles melting underneath his touch.

Okay, she could go again. She wanted it too because his fingers managed to re-ignite the fire between her thighs, stroking it higher and higher with every press against her clit. Reaching between her legs Mikasa tugged his hand out, turning to face Eren.

“Pick me up.”, she ordered him, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“Do I have to?”, he faked a pained expression, “You are so heavy.”

But Mikasa didn’t want jokes now.

“Eren, don’t.”

It was the tone in which she spoke those two words, her icy commander voice that would make him fall to his knees in the middle of a crowded street if ordered him to. It was the one that allowed no argument nor question, only blind obedience.

“Yes, my lady.”

With a grunt Eren picked her up, letting Mikasa wrap her strong legs around his waist. He was grateful for the assistance, as Mikasa’s body was heavy, but if there was one thing Eren could do after all that gym-going, it was holding up his girlfriend. The water beating down on their bodies, her eyes locked to his as she manipulated her hips blindly until his tip was resting against her folds.

“Ready?”

A single nod being the answer, Eren eased his hold on her and let gravity assist them. Of course that Mikasa had to do something, wouldn’t be her if she didn’t. Bracing on Eren’s shoulders, she let herself go slow, super slow, torturing him with the tempo. In hopes of appeasing her, he dropped his head to her exposed breasts, tonguing the red marks he left behind earlier. Mikasa’s tits would be littered with bitemarks come morning, and she was silently very grateful that there were no swimwear photoshoots on her agenda anytime soon. Sure, the makeup artists could cover the marks Eren left on her and Mikasa’s neck often had to be worked on but having them tap their brushes against her chest was something else entirely.

This time around it was no wild pounding, they were both way too exhausted for that. It was slow lovemaking with Eren pulling her up and letting the gravity push her down on his cock, over and over, until the familiar heat awoke and slid into her whole body. Mikasa came with a gasp that she hid in Eren’s shoulder and he was quick to follow, the last bits of his essence squeezed and milked out of him by her inner muscles. And then it was time to truly get cleaned and rest, although Mikasa had a faint feeling that she might not be able to walk tomorrow.

And yes, the morning proved that she was right in that assessment, but Eren was no better. With how hard Mikasa rode him, he had bruises and welts all over his hips, and his neck looked like someone was trying to choke the life out of him. Well, Mikasa did, because her thighs moved on their own while she was cumming and squeezed the poor man between them hard, but Eren was used to it at this point. With both of them out of commission, the next day was spent doing nothing and lying around, giving their bodies time to heal. Still, it was totally worth it.

Two days later, everything was falling into place. Mikasa’s visions were less and less frequent until they stopped completely, letting her know that there was nothing more the cabin could show her right now. All she could do was wait, her visions would come when the time was right.

With the closeness of the mountains they went skiing too, Mikasa acing it as she did anything that is a physical sport. Eren had his issues, not nearly as perfect as she was, but after a few hours of training and guidance from her, he could hold his own on the treacherous devices strapped to his feet. Exhausted from the skiing, they practically collapsed as soon as they were back in the cabin in dire need of rest.

Eren was fast asleep when Mikasa woke, slipping from his embrace and out of the creaky bed. Making a cup of coffee for herself, she opened the door and watched as the sun slowly climbed from the horizon and up. It was so beautiful here, so peaceful, and she knew exactly what to do. Mikasa was meant to be here, this was the place where she would get her last dream, the last piece of the puzzle, the final chapter of the story. Here, she would know what happened to her other self, how she ended up. And taking a sip of the hot beverage, a tight smile spread over the raven’s lips.

Mikasa was looking forward to that.

A rustle of sheets behind her indicated that Eren was stirring about. It was like an instinct at this point – when he couldn’t feel Mikasa next to him his sleep was usually mediocre at best as if his mind is constantly checking if she’s there with him, safe and sound. Mikasa didn’t turn, keeping her eyes on the rising sun even when she heard his bare feet tapping against the wooden floor behind her. Soon she was enveloped in a warm hug from behind.

“Hi.”, he whispered into her ear, kissing her cheek after.

“Morning. There’s coffee if you want some.”

“Hmmm, later…”, he yawned behind her, “I’ll keep hugging you for a bit longer.”

With a smile Mikasa put her hand on his, intertwining their fingers. And feeling it, feeling the fingers splayed on her stomach reminded her of something, a faint feel of memory hitting her again. They stood like this, exactly like this, with Mikasa gazing out and Eren behind her, but there was one significant difference. There was a baby bump on her midriff, beneath their intertwined hands.

Mikasa took a sharp breath through the nose once she realized that, looking down. There was no baby, of course, her and Eren’s hands were nestled against her firm abdominals. But in her mind’s eye, she could see it, and to her surprise Mikasa liked that image. The implant in Mikasa’s arm burned for a second, reminding her of its presence and function.

Her mood was completely shattered when Eren rubbed his cheek against hers, his stubble scratching her and reminding Mikasa of the night before.

“Eren, the shaving?”, she reminded him gently yet didn’t pull away, enduring the feeling.

“Hmmm.”

“I could shave you, you know.”

“That would be nice.”, he pressed a quick kiss to the side of her neck, “Thank you.”

“Could cut your hair too…”

“As long as you don’t give me an undercut.”

“Why’s that?”

“Miki I love you but I don’t want to be reminded of Levi every time I look in the mirror.”, he shuddered behind her, “When he sees us kissing my life flashes in front of my eyes.”

“You have to overcome the fear of my brother.”

“It’s not fear, it’s respect.”

“Oh? And why do you respect him that much then?”

“Because he is so similar to you! It’s like a shorter and much grumpier male version of you who doesn’t love me at all. And that is scary, because I know how much stronger than me you are, and I’d go as far as saying that your brother dislikes me.”

“Just stronger?”

“Well, way more beautiful too, but that doesn’t count with Levi.”

“You have it all figured out, huh.”

“For sure. You are stronger than me and Armin is smarter, so if we ever get into a real conflict I’ll argue with you and fight Armin.”

She laughed at that, marking Eren’s mission of making his angel happy as complete. With that he buried his face in Mikasa’s neck completely, filling his nose with the pleasant smell of her natural scent. She was giggling, the heavenly sound in his ears, and that was simply the best way to start a morning.

“All right then.”, she reached out to pat his cheek, scratching it gently, retaliation for the agony his beard caused her, “Just don’t shit your pants when Levi walks me down the aisle.”

His voice was muffled against her skin.

“You want him at our wedding? Ugh…”

“Eren, he is my brother. Behave.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Giving up on morning Yeager, Mikasa took hold of her coffee with both hands and took another long sip. Maybe roused by the sound Eren raised his head.

“Let me have a taste?”

“Sure, here…”, she almost handed him the cup before realizing what he meant, “Oh..”

With a grin Eren took a hold of her chin, angling her head so he could kiss her. It felt nice, especially when his tongue swept against the seam of her lips and she let him in, touching it with her own. And when he pulled back and smacked his lips, Mikasa smiled because of the raw happiness she felt.

“How is it?”

“Good, I feel like I need a cup myself.”

“Do you?”

“Maybe, let me have another taste to be sure.”

So Mikasa kissed him again and they stood there tangled together while the sun steadily climbed over the horizon. And everything felt right.

[dspd]

ypu can thank @sokka-with-his-hair-down for the following word vomit with a lil jinzula content

just saw a jinzula reference and now I'm thinking about Azula being released from Fire Nation's version of a psych ward and going to get rehabilitated with Iroh in Ba Sing Se and Jin just being a cutie and helping the heck outta her until Azula is like...oh no I have feelings for a pleb what do I dooooo????

-----

okay so like...after the comet Azula's held in luxury as doctors try to help her. Zuko visits every day, staying as long as a young ruler can, only leaving on the bad days when she's starts to lose control, her guards handlers hurrying away when items go flying or her face twists in rage, screaming familiar insults fed by fear and the ghost of Ozai's upbringing. Eventually she regains some balance, Zuko's unwavering support and the calming repetition of her now hobby, tea making, the rocks that she clings to when she feels herself slipping. She quickly learns the palace holds too many triggers as she's allowed to venture beyond her suite, two guards following too close behind as she wanders the halls. She feels lost, more like an intruder in this remodeled building that somehow stills rakes her over and leaves her soul bleeding.

She walks past the pond Zuko and Mother loved and tears up when she sees the turtle ducks have returned. It's a tiny feeling but she can't control herself and turns away.

She wanders down a servant's corridor and remembers the one time she sat on Zuko, snapping sparks into his face and mocking him, repeating words Ozai had said to her, a raw, primal delightful power coursing through her, then a nugget of guilt growing when he begins to cry only to be crushed under defensiveness when Mother gathers him up, wiping his tears away...and ignores her again. She trembles and walks past quickly with a stiff legged gait, unwilling to run away yet unable to stay.

She tries not to think about whether the guards saw the tremor or whether she could look back and see contempt in their eyes.

She reaches the main doors to the Royal Hall and gasps when she remembers Mother's disappearance, Zuko's absence as he healed, then his banishment, all while Ozai tryna that gaze on her and built her up again, giving her more and more responsibility. She isn't sure if it's the remembered pride or the following memories of hiding in her bed and fear of failure that starts it but all of a sudden she's can't breathe and she's gasping, hanging onto the wall, trying to push it back, pull it inside and lock it away again and Zuko's pulling the door open, drawn by the shouting in that stupid, idiotic way of his instead of letting the guards handle it and he's pulling her in to a soft embrace that burns.

She's shuddering and sobbing and she knows it's bad because she can feel the rough fabric of Zuko's royal robes against her fingers as she clutches him, face pressed into his chest as she tries to cram her stupid, idiotic weakness into a tiny corner in the back of her head like Ozai taught her befits a royal. It doesn't work and she's overcome with the new crashing wave of frustration over her lack of control.

It's only when she feels the cool spread of that stupid bitch Katara's healing along her shoulders and neck that she manages to claw back into a semblance of who she needs to be. Those stupid hands with their stupid water bending pull her into the darkness of deep water, the overwhelming feelings floating on the surface she's sinking away from.

She's not deep enough, not numb enough, to miss the repulsive feeling when she finally looks at the guards and sees nothing but pity in the guards eyes.

So when Zuko, in that stupid, weak way of his, gently suggests she move away she's nauseatingly glad and shamefully hurt, little internal dragons that swoop and chase each other, nipping away until she's not sure of anything. She can hear him talking but it's a distant thing. She's too busy fighting the little voice in her head saying she's being abandoned again.

She wants to say it sounds like Father so she can dismiss it like she's been practicing, but it sounds too much like Mother.

Mother never lied so it must be true.

The move happens so fast that it feels like she blinks and she's standing at the entrance of Iroh's new home in the stupid city of lemming, Ba Sing Se. It’s cooler, She's kind of afraid in a new way. Mostly, she's tired.

So, so tired of being like this.

She's angry with herself next when Iroh gives her a critical glance and a tentative smile before taking her hands and welcoming her. She can't stop feeling things and even his words about starting over and reassures her that he's here for her and that he's sorry, that he feels like he abandoned her and he wants her to know that he never chose Zuko over her and he loves her very much...

That little voice changes into Zuko and Father and Ty Lee and Mai whispers to her and twists the meaning and she knows it's wrong but she's so tired of fighting it.

So she sighs and tries to smile and accepts his tea and hand holding and changes the subject.

When she finds out she'll be helping at his tea shop, she doesn't have the energy to be outraged that she, the stupid heir apparent of the Fire Nation, will be taking orders and delivering stupid, poorly brewed tea.

It's full and aggravating but she practices holding all that in. The nightmares slow, Zuko's letters reassure her, and she learns how to handle minor annoyances. She's mature enough to acknowledge she never learned how to handle them correctly the first time, something that makes her grin to herself in a moment of wry happiness. It's a bittersweet feeling and she's tired of feeling but still...it's new and exhilarating and she feels a bubble of hope in her chest.

In Ba Sing Se, she's nobody. It's oddly freeing to be Mr. Mushi's niece and her new name is nice in an unfamiliar way. She won't admit it but she likes the way the repeat customers act with her. They aren't afraid to joke with her or share a concern. A couple younger ones flirt with her and, as she peeks out from the bangs she's growing out, she's pleased it's friendly and without the teeth she came to expect from Father's generals who disagreed with her expanding military duties.

°°°

Early on, after moving in with Iroh, Azula was still prickly and unbalanced and bored out of her mind at the dull, repetitive lifestyle.

There's a quiet girl that comes in sometimes. She's soft-spoken, with a kind smile, but full of life at the same time. Azula remembers the first time she came in, greeting Iroh with a wide smile and talking to him like she's his niece, not Azula. Azula dismisses her with a sniff, turning to help another table but when Iroh sits down and shares a it with the girl, Azula can't help but sidle closer, ears straining to overhear. The girl - Jin, she later learns - had been a customer before when Iroh and Zuko had come to Ba Sing Se as refugees. No one can be so interested in her failure of an uncle so she grabs a broom and sweeps closer. When Jin asks after someone named Lee, Azula loses interest.

The girl is just another stupid commoner, obsessed with boys or whatever. Nothing interesting.

By Agni, she's so bored.

A few days later the girl returns, carrying a box filled with the local excuse of food and Azula buries her sneer of displeasure when Iroh pulls his apron off in a hurry, sliding into the booth, bald spot almost outshining like the girl's eyes.

Azula realizes she's been staring into the stupid girl's eyes and looks away. Her scowl grows as a stupid grandpa comes in with muddy shoes, ruining the floor she just finished cleaning. She stares at the tracks, hopelessness trapping her in place. The stupid grandpa doesn't even notice as he finds a seat and the hopelessness sours into bitterness.

Of course.

She's a failure, too.

A prickle between her shoulder blades warns he and she looks up. Right into Failure Iroh's stupid commoner girlfriend's gaze. They lock eyes and Azula struggles to hold it. Even if she can't be what Father raised her to be, she won't lose to this stupid smiley girl.

She can't stand it, that peculiar sensation of being watched, so she looks away. Failure Azula. Just like Iroh and Zuko and Mother. She glances back, bracing herself for the inevitable stupid judgemental look but the girl is smiling shyly at her and walking up, introducing herself and so friendly and stupidly nice. Azula's anger is simmering but she's confused and why would this girl be so nice to a stranger????

So, like her failures for family members, Azula flees.

It's not exactly an auspicious start, and Azula knows she's spiralling when she spends twenty minutes interrogating Iroh that night. What did her tell the stupid commoner? Did he ask her to approach? What does she want?

Iroh's calm at first but as Azula's voice rises and she pulls at her hair to feel something other than panic and keeps asking again and again his stupid face changes. She realizes with a start that he's seeing her for real. The rotten core of her that she's managed to hide away from even Zuko. The part of her that drove Mother away. It's written all over his stupid face.

Azula can't sit still anymore. She jumps up and is out the window in moments, shimmying down the wall and disappearing. She runs quietly, keeping to shadowy streets and inky black alleys. She's lost by the time the frenetic energy seeps out of her body, a stitch in her side forcing her to pause at a fountain for a stretch and drink.

Azula stretches out on the lip of the fountain, staring up at the stars. She used to hate the night sky. It's a visible, inevitable reminder of the Fire Nation's weakness. Her weakness. Every day, as the sun sinks below the horizon, Azula feels the fizzle of her bending wane, that hot space below and to the left of her heart cooling from hot, blue flames to red-orange fingers. It's barely more than embers in the Earth Kingdom as the days grow cooler and Azula's not sure how to feel about it.

There's a step across the courtyard and Azula's slipping down into the shadows again as two stupid lemmings approach. One is holding a torch while the other swings empty buckets. Azula frowns. Somehow the cheerfulness isn't as grading as usual. Their voices are soft in the quiet.

Azula closes her eyes and wonders if she'll ever feel half as content and comfortable as the air these two exude. There's the sound of splashes on the other side of the fountain.

One of the girls sighs. "I wish we could look at the lanterns tonight."

Only years of training lock Azula in place. It's Iroh's stupid commoner girlfriend.

The other girl laughs. "You know they're only lot for festivals, Jin."

"Except that one time," Iroh's stu- Jin replies, "I still can't believe Lee lit them."

Azula can almost smell the stupid happiness from the memory.

"Yeah, yeah. You have wierd luck with dates, I get it. Hurry up.and grab the other bucket! We still have to come back for more."

Based on the sounds, Azula can picture them struggling back the way they came.

Something makes her pause at the edge of the courtyard before leaving. She hesitates. But then she can hear the duo approaching again and she makes up her mind.

She pretends she doesn't stay long enough to hear the gasps of surprise before she hightails it out of there.

The feeling of elation that fills her chest and slides down her arms reminds her of the day she stood on the deck of a war balloon for the first time.

---

so...yeah...I wasn't planning any of this so idk where it goes but in the end Azula eventually has it bad and idk maybe Mai and Ty Lee come to visit, tentatively open to trying to be friends for real this time and, after seeing Azula's interest, Ty Lee wheedles Jin's story out of Iroh near the end of their visit. Mai's holding her face with an I can't believe this is happening expression, Iroh is concentrating too hard on his tea pot, and Azula's face is red as Ty Lee chokes out that of course Azula and Zuko would have the same taste in women.

And maybe the next day, when Jin slips her hand into Azula's while they wave goodbye, Azula looks at Jin who catches the look and smiles that smile she hated so much at first and Azula has the revelation of her life

[juliettalfacharlie]

Day 4, alt: Visiting a Grave

CW graphic death, gun violence, suicide, acceptance of death, and drugs.

The previous two years, she'd shaken with emotion. First with anger, then grief. Anniversaries weren't necessarily special dates; they weren't anything she looked forward to or dreaded, but it was still jarring to realize how much time had passed. She'd experienced a minute of disbelief when she first recognized it'd been a year since her wife was with her.

It was customary in the Earth Kingdom to show respect only towards elders. When parents lost their children, no vigils were held, for it wasn't acceptable to honour those your junior.

It was a practice that thankfully hadn't taken roots in Republic City. Kya wouldn't have cared, regardless. She was hurting, damnit, and that wasn't lessoned because Lin was three years younger than she.

Now, 1,095 days past her lover's death, Kya was finally in a place of peace. Not with Lin's killer, or the circumstances surrounding it. She didn't believe she'd ever accept that.

The two had been walking out to their car after an evening dinner, and Lin sensed an altercation a block away. Kya sat in the Satomobile while Lin cautiously neared, concerned over a potential mugging or assault. It hadn't felt like anything serious, especially compared to what both women had already seen.

Lin used her seismic sense when she'd crossed half the distance, seeing two figures. One was pressed against the wall, the target, while the other stood in front of them, the instigator.

She treaded as quietly as possible, peeking around the corner to assess the situation.

There were two men, both tall and muscular. The assailant held something Lin originally believed to be a small baton, but as it caught light from the streetlamps, Lin saw it was a handgun. They weren't exceedingly common, due to being new inventions that were quite costly, but the amount of nonbenders in Republic City meant they were more concentrated here compared to other nations.

Lin desperately wished for her old spool of cables, but she'd retired them fifteen years prior, and they'd been gifted to the top metalbending prospect at the time of her departure.

The weapon was pointed at the victim, so any surprise attack risked him firing. She instead went for a civil approach, calling from behind the corner, "Step away and put your weapon down." she instructed, hearing his loud gasp.

"Who's there? Don't come close or I'll shoot!" the attacker yelled. His voice was strained, likely from fear.

"You haven't done anything yet, kid. Just set the gun on the floor, and we can talk about it." she replied, using a tone of placating authority. She displayed power without intimidation; the other man was acting on pure emotions, he needed to feel like he had an ally.

"I don't want to talk. That's not going to do shit to bring back my brother." he said, and Lin heard a head hit the concrete wall.

"Killing someone else won't either. It's also not going to make you feel the pain any less. The only thing it'll accomplish is ending your own life as well." she told him, voice softening just slightly. One constant in life would always be violence, and there would always be people hurt by it. Lin stepped around the corner, hands up in submission.

The gunman yelped, swinging the weapon towards her. "Hey, I know you! You're a cop!" he said, and Lin had a full view of his face. He was young; not boyishly so, but somewhere in his early 20's.

"I'm not an officer anymore, but the experience I have means I know exactly how this can end up. I don't want to see that happen to you; there's so much left to experience." she told him, calm under his pressure.

His hands trembled just so, eyes full of pain. "There would have been if it weren't for him!" he yelled, turning his head to the other man.

His face was bloody but he looked otherwise unharmed. "It's not my fault the idiot overdosed, I just gave him the shit." he argued, and the young man clenched more firmly around the gun.

Lin intervened quickly, taking attention off of the loudmouthed dealer, "I know what it's like to lose a sibling. My younger sister. My mom took her side, so it felt like I was entirely alone, but I found joy in my job. In my hobbies and friends. It made that pain feel much more manageable, and I couldn't be happier right now." she explained, eyes not straying from his face.

"I don't have any of that. I just had him." he said, shaking his head.

"For a long time I didn't either. I held onto my anger for decades, and it prevented me from fully enjoying myself. I don't want that to happen to someone else," she told him, "It wasn't until I was 52, actually, until I let that go. I didn't get closure, and the people who hurt me never apologized, but I saw how much harm it had done to me. Shortly after, I started talking to the woman I came to marry. She's the best person I know; beautiful, kind, insightful, she brought out the best parts in me, and I found myself wanting to be happy for her.

"If it's too difficult to feel joy with yourself, would you pity an old woman and feel it for me? I promise you, this hopelessness isn't permanent." Lin said, watching as the man slowly relaxed his grip and lowered the weapon.

"How about you start by telling me about him, hm?" she encouraged. He kept the weapon up, pointed at her knee, but his shoulders had dropped.

"His name was Mingyu. I was eight when he was born, and I was so excited. We didn't have a lot of money, and mom and dad were always working, so I had to look after him instead of going to school.

"I taught him what I had learned, and he was so smart. I got a job to make sure he could go to school when he turned 6. He was so good at kuai ball.

"We lost our dad this year, and Yu took it so hard. I was too busy with my job to see it, but he at school he started- why didn't I just-" the man finally lowered the gun, eyes welling up.

"Kids make mistakes. It's not your fault that Mingyu slipped." Lin told him, taking a cautious step forward.

The man didn't respond, so she continued to close the distance.

Lin straightened, feeling the distinct thud of metal-soled boots. The police had been called before she showed up.

"Hey, give me the gun and we can keep talking." She urged, and he looked up at her, startled by her change in tone.

"RCPD, hands where I can see them!" an officer behind her bellowed. Lin felt a pit open in her stomach, watching the emotions flash across the man's face.

In a moment the gun was back up, four feet away and aimed right between her eyes. "You lied to me!" he shouted, and pulled the trigger.

Kya had heard the shot, and immediately she knew what had happened. She felt a tug in her soul, similar to the feeling when her mother passed, and she sat in the passengers seat for hours, unable to move.

The man who murdered Lin was only 22. His name was Han. He ended up receiving life in prison for killing the former police chief, compared to the 30 he would have gotten if he killed the drug dealer, but he instead hanged himself in his holding cell. He was survived solely by his mother, and Kya deeply pitied her, but it was because of her son that she was now a widow.

It was unbelievable to imagine Lin losing her life there, in the alleyway fifteen years retired from the police force, instead of the dozen times she'd been severely injured, or the hundreds where she'd faced worse danger. Kya forgot, sometimes, in the beginning. She'd return to the empty house and think Lin must be in the backyard, or wake up in a cold bed expecting the smell of Lin's favoured morning tea, tieguanyin, to have permeated upstairs.

Kya had been so achingly raw with pain. She'd felt nothing like it before, where the jagged edges of her grief made her lash out instead, but for months she hated Lin for having left her. Spirits damn her noble nature.

After five months the wounds finally soothed, but she'd been terribly surprised to feel its return when she visited Lin's grave a year past her demise.

She then felt guilt over her reaction; Lin had told her countless times how Kya had "saved" her. Shown her love, and helped her realize to be cared for wasn't negative. Kya wished so desperately just to speak to her once more. To thank her for all that she gave, and ensure Lin knew how deeply she'd been loved.

The second anniversary was when she felt sorrow, but in the past year she'd received news that wasn't altogether bad. It made the third occurrence pass with far less grief.

Kya had been experiencing chest pains and severe shortness of breath. From her own diagnosis, she surmised her heart was giving out, but a healer in the city confirmed it with ease. There wasn't too much surprise given her age, approaching 84, her lifestyle, not always the healthiest, and the compounding emotional experiences she'd weathered.  While she'd never looked forward to death, she found that she was ready for it whenever the time came.

It was almost freeing, sitting in front of Lin's grave without the cloud of overwhelming emotion. She didn't visit her final resting place except for this anniversary, as she'd been buried in the Beifong family's tomb all the way in the Earth Kingdom. Lin had been rigid on tradition that way, even if Toph insisted against it and Su planned to start her own in Zaofu. Kya had only wanted to honour her wishes; being with her mortal body didn't give her a particular sense of closeness. She sensed Lin at random moments regardless of her location, which had been one hint she hadn't yet chosen reincarnation. Her spirit had remained hidden despite thorough searching in the Spirit World, but Kya knew she was only waiting for Kya's time.

And with it nearing, for the first time she faced the gilded headstone with a glimmer of hope.

[miracu-ace]

Feel you here beside me

Happy holidays @chloe-bourgeois-is-big-gay! As your secret santa, I’ve written you a Lukanette story featuring the soulmate AU, where soulmates can feel any intense emotions that their soulmate’s feel. This went through several re-writes so I apologize for cutting it so close to the deadline, but here it is!

@mlsecretsanta

For Marinette, there were many times growing up that she doubted whether or not she had a soulmate. She couldn’t recall ever being overcome by a strong emotion that wasn’t directly linked back to how she herself was feeling. But according to her parents, everyone had one some were just more obvious than others. 

The first time she actually noticed a difference, Marinette was working late on a school project. She had been spending hours staring at a blank screen in the hopes that inspiration would strike and she could complete her written report before it was due the next day. But nothing would come to her. All she could think about was the overwhelming stress of turning in another assignment late and disappointing both her teacher and her parents. The stress alone had her spinning in her computer chair.

On the verge of giving up, Marinette covered her face in her hands. She could attempt to go to sleep now and maybe get up early enough to actually be able to focus in the morning or she could push through in the hopes something would come to her. Granted she had a bad habit of sleeping in and at this rate, it seemed like she would even if she completed the assignment.

Gradually she felt a soothing wave wash over her. And her shoulders relaxed. And her thoughts were no longer racing. And she didn’t feel so hopeless. And then just calm.

It was as if someone were draping a warm, soothing blanket over her shoulders. As if she was feeling someone else’s emotions, someone like her soulmate!

A gentle sigh escaped her lips and Marinette sent a silent thank you to her soulmate. Whatever they were doing they were managing to overcome her emotions with their own. The thought alone helped Marinette relax, finally knowing that she wasn’t so alone like she had feared. There was someone out there that could match her stress and overpower it with a sense of calmness.

For a moment Marinette lost herself in thought again. Guilt. Her soulmate would be around her age of course, but would they already have grey hair? Aside from Marinette, who else could handle her daily stressors? Between running late to school, staying up late working on homework assignments, and everything else, how could someone else handle all this random stress? 

Her dad had even mentioned how before meeting her mother, he would stress bake whenever he felt any intense emotion from her.

Marinette almost laughed when the wave of calmness came back. Subtle at first, but still effective. As if her soulmate were trying to soothe her fears once more.

“Ok, I’ll take the hint,” Marinette whispered to herself. “Thank you.”

A small smile formed on her lips as she began typing out her report.

“Someday you will have to tell me your secret to staying so calm.”

~~-~~

The day that Marinette became Ladybug, she started to worry in the back of her mind about her soulmate. It was one thing to have the weight of Paris on her shoulders, but now she was giving that stress to someone else without any of the necessary context.

Through all of her interaction with Stoneheart as Ladybug, Marinette couldn’t feel her soulmate’s soothing calm over her own feelings. Which in turn only enhanced her fear and self-doubt. Even with Tikki and Chat Noir, she felt alone again.

All until Alya was trapped by cars as Stoneheart went on another rampage. The desire to help Alya overcame her worries and she accepted the ladybug miraculous. Just as the magic of the suit was washing over her, she could feel the wave of calm again. Mixed in there was a hint of relief that Marinette was overcoming her own doubts and a sense of pride for her.

~~-~~

So much worry. Luka wasn’t sure why, but his soulmate was stressed beyond belief at the sudden introduction of akumas. Her emotions before now were nothing in comparison. More than anything, he hoped she was safe.

Normally in times like these, Luka would strum his guitar and play a soothing melody. One that would break through his soulmate’s stress and help her calm down, but now he couldn’t seem to break through to her. 

Not until Ladybug seemed to show up again. As soon as he had seen her on TV zipping into action, Luka imagined his soulmate found some relief in the superhero. She was still doubtful, but Luka took it as an opportunity to play his guitar and focus on sending soothing thoughts to her.

Confidence answered him back and Luka smiled to himself. Whatever had happened to his soulmate during Stoneheart, they were safe now and seemed to be more confident in themselves now.

“I’ll have to thank Ladybug for this someday.” Luka thought to himself as the ladybugs washed over Paris.

~~-~~

The day Luka became Viperion, he began to understand what made a person lose themselves in self-doubt. The weight of a miraculous was a heavy burden, but Luka also found it to be a source of power. While his soulmate handled her emotions better after Stoneheart, there were still times when he could feel her concern grow during a particularly powerful akuma. As Viperion, he could take a more active role to help his soulmate.

Every time Ladybug came to his requesting assistance in her and Chat Noir’s battle with the akumas, Luka was quick to accept her offer.

~~-~~

“Ladybug!” Viperion called, his freehand laying over his Miraculous. “Are you alright?”

Winded, Ladybug took a deep breath and gave herself a moment to collect her thoughts.

“I’m fine. Just taking a breather before I rejoin Chat Noir in the fight.” Ladybug called back, turning her face to look at Viperion.

Even from a distance, Viperion could see the crease in her brows, made all the more evident by her mask.

Doubt. Fear.

Suddenly, Viperion’s mind was clouded with his soulmate’s emotions.

Without thinking about it, Viperion moved his hand away from his miraculous and pulled his lyre from his side. He began to strum his fingers along the strings. While he usually enjoyed the comfort of feeling his soulmate’s emotions, as if they were always next to him, he couldn’t afford to lose focus with so much on the line.

When he played music like this, Viperion liked to imagine that his music conveyed the words he wanted to share with his soulmate even if they couldn’t hear him play.

Ladybug was surprised as she watched Viperion play his lyre. As Marinette, she had heard him play his guitar before, but not like this. Through the instrument, it was as if Viperion were having an intimate conversation with someone.

At the same time, Ladybug could gradually feel her soulmate’s feelings wash over her. Their feelings calmed her nerves and Ladybug could feel her confidence growing once more. Reinvigorated, Ladybug wound up her yoyo before propelling herself back into the fight with Chat Noir.

A sigh escaped Viperion’s lips as he felt his soulmate calming down. He slipped his lyre back on his side and held his free hand back over his miraculous, prepared to call second chance if needed.

~~-~~

“Thank you for your help today, Luka.” Ladybug smiled, “You did a great job.”

“Of course,” Luka replied, placing the snake miraculous in her outstretched hand.

With the snake miraculous back in her hands, Ladybug prepared to send off her yoyo before hesitating for just a moment.

“I was curious”, Ladybug started until Luka interrupted her.

“About why I was playing the lyre?” Luka couldn’t help but laugh, “It’s an old habit I picked up. Usually, when my soulmate would get stressed out in the past and I could feel her emotions spiraling out of control, I figured out that I could play my guitar and help her calm down. I’ve always been pretty calm so I always worried my soulmate would feel alone, but at least this way I know they can feel me silently supporting them.”

A shy smile made its way onto Luka’s face and Ladybug couldn’t help but blush in return. She felt a swelling in her chest and she wondered silently to herself if her soulmate was standing in front of her now. It would make sense after all. Who else could handle emotions like that than Luka who was always so calm and relaxed? What were the odds?

Ladybug wanted to ask more questions, but the beeping in her ears reminded her that she was limited on time.

“Your soulmate sounds like a very lucky person.” Ladybug smiled, “I hope you get the chance to meet them soon if you haven’t already.”

With those words, Ladybug sent her yoyo high into the rooftops above before giving a sharp tug and flying into the sky after it.

Luka watched as she disappeared, feeling a likewise similar warmth in his chest and wondering idly if it was his own feeling or his soulmates. Or maybe both.

[ymiwritesstuff]

Regained Hope

This was requested by @sweatyknightwombatherring and because it includes significant spoilers for Steel Ball Run, I won’t be showing the ask itself. I really hope you enjoy this, I did make a couple changes to hopefully improve the quality, hope you don’t mind. Please enjoy.

Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure Part 7: Steel Ball Run

Gyro Zeppeli x Fem!Reader

Summary: A grim turn of events leaves you filled with sorrow that quickly turns into confusion and hope as you make a discovery that changes everything.

Notes: Angst, SPOILERS FOR PART 7!!

Every sound around you went unheard, the only thing audible to you being your own, rapid, panicked heartbeat as the water slowly returned to its previous state. Your hands were slowly losing their strength as you dragged his limp body to a safer place, away from the slowly rising water. The President had turned his attention to Johnny, who noticed your desperate attempt to save Gyro’s life.

“Please please, please... C’mon...” Groans left your lips as you tried to hold onto him and at the same time quickly move him to the shore, the fresh wound on his side bleeding and making your heart hurt that much more. You were exhausted, but you had to save him, you weren’t going to let it end like this. After everything you had gone through, after everything he had done for you, you weren’t going to lose him, not like this. The heartache dug its claws into your most vulnerable places, trying to make you lose hope, and give up on trying to save him, however you endured it and held onto him with an iron-like grip, pulled him as hard as you could, and ignored the overwhelming, draining exhaustion.

With one final pull, you somehow made it on dry land before the water was able to consume you. But the struggle was far from over. Your heart still racing, you quickly kneeled down beside him, your eyes immediately examining his bleeding wound caused by Valentine. “Gyro? Gyro can you hear me?!” Your trembling hands made their way on the injury, applying pressure on it to hopefully easing the plentiful bleeding. Gyro’s emerald eyes were closed, his entire being unresponsive to your cries. Your eyes landed on your hands that had quickly become covered by the crimson liquid, the sight only increasing your panic and fear.

Loud sounds quickly caught your attention. Turning towards the noise, your eyes quickly landed on Johnny, engaged in a battle with the President. A wave of dismay washed over you, your eyes quickly glancing at Gyro, whose state hadn’t improved at all. Your heartbeat echoed in your ears, panic took over your entire being, and for a single moment, you felt like everything around you crumbled into dust. A feeling of utter hopelessness hit you like a boulder and all you could do was to plead and somehow try to save him.

“Please... Please Gyro! You have to get up!” You choked out, your bloody hands still desperately holding onto him. He had to survive, he absolutely had to. Your eyes glanced at his face that remained still, the sight only bringing you more dismay. Slowly, you lowered your ear to his chest, hoping to hear an alive heartbeat, but at the same time, secretly knowing that the silent prayer in your mind was anything but possible.

Silence. Complete, utterly painful silence was all that remained in the place that once held a beating heart. “N-no...” The voice that came out was quiet, weak, completely defeated as tears slowly prickled in your (E/C) eyes. Your head remained on his chest, your mind internally screaming and demanding him to somehow open those gorgeous emerald eyes once more. However the more time passed, the less faith you had. “No.. No no no! Gyro please! Get up!” You lifted your head to look at him once again, your hands subconsciously leaving his wound and your sobs traveling from the base of your throat all the way to your mouth, through which they painfully left.

Upon receiving no response, just a blank, lifeless expression on the face that usually held the most amazing smile you had ever seen, you collapsed and allowed your upper body to fall on top of him, desiring to have him close even in this agonizing moment. “P-please...” Deep down you knew. No matter what you did, how much you cried, and how many tears you shed, he wouldn’t come back.

You couldn’t do anything. You couldn’t save him. If only you had been stronger. The crushing feeling of sorrow and agony filled you with an endless amount of guilt, and you couldn’t help but blame yourself. The heavy tears that fell from your eyes like a rainfall landed on his soulless corpse that you still held onto. All the previous determination you had was now gone, replaced by a plaguing misery.

How had it come to this? Just a few moments ago, everything was fine and now, everything was gone. You gripped the material of his shirt, unwilling to let him go despite knowing that he was already gone. Denial mixed with sadness and created a feeling that weighed on your heart and only worsened your condition. It was hopeless.

However, suddenly, a strange feeling of someone’s presence surrounded you. The sudden change caused you to lift your gaze up and notice something, unfamiliar materializing next to you. A gasp slipped your lips once you came to the realization. It was impossible. “Y-you... You’re my sta-” Your quiet sentence was cut short as a glow started emitting from the Italian’s body, more specifically, the spot your pain-filled tears had landed on. Your eyes widened and a spark of hope ignited within you. You threw a glance at your fighting spirit you had never encountered before and noticed it glowing similarly.

Something had awakened your stand for the first time ever. You had never seen it appear next to you, leaving you to assume that you simply didn’t have one. However, despite your eyes being filled with tears and slightly blurring your vision, they didn’t lie. Because what you saw, was indeed the manifestation of your spirit, and it was doing something.

The glowing quickly moved to Gyro’s wound and to your amazement, it disappeared. The once bleeding wound was now gone, seemingly healed by your stand, which only increased your confusion, but also fueled your hope. You weren’t sure what it was that your soul was doing, nor did you want to jump to conclusions, but once your eyes caught looked at Gyro and noticed something, everything changed.

For a moment, you didn’t believe what you had just seen. But once his chest rose again and he took another breath, your eyes widened in shock and you immediately rushed to his side, your stand quickly disappearing. “Gyro! A-are you- Can you hear me?” Your hands land on his face, the warmth returning to his cheeks. For a moment, nothing happens and you wonder if any of what just occurred was real, however, all that doubt gets thrown out of the window when he frowns his brows and lets out a groan, a sign of life you never thought you’d hear.

“W-what the...?” He says, his voice raspy and quiet as if he had just woken from a nap. Your eyes widen and once more, you can feel tears forming, this time, however, out of joy. His emerald eyes that shine as they had always done lock onto yours and that is more than enough to make you throw yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his neck in a tight embrace you longed for.

“G-Gyro! Y-you... You’re alive!!” A sob escapes your lips as you bury your head in his neck, unwilling to let go. Gyro’s eyes frown in confusion until he remembers what happened. He glances at you once you pull away, tears still dripping from your eyes. “You saved me, didn’t you? How in the hell did you...?” His voice trails off as he is unable to come to a conclusion that could possibly explain why he was still breathing. He vividly remembers being wounded by the President before his whole world went dark. Gyro thought for sure he was dead, yet here he was, you by his side.

Gyro doesn’t receive a proper answer to his question, instead you crash your lips into his, unable to resist the desperate urge to kiss him after everything. He doesn’t protest and instead wrapped his arms around you. It took you a good few moments to realize that he was actually there, holding you and this was not a product of your mind that formed out of desperation.

You suddenly remember that the battle with Valentine wasn’t over yet and quickly pull away. Gyro raises his brow but quickly follows your gaze that lands on Johnny and Valentine. “That bastard just won’t die, will he?” He says and stands up, which makes you do so as well. “We have to help,” you say, pushing the joy of seeing Gyro alive and well aside for a brief moment. He glances at you and gives you that smile you loved.

“It’s time for round two.”