#but i came out VICTORIOUS with the help of near boiling water

[theygender]

Catch me in the kitchen at midnight fighting for my life trying to open a jar of goddamn pickles bc my femme already went to sleep so I can't ask her to open it for me

[lokifromvalhalla]

I'm here for you

╔═══*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗ Ivar The Boneless x Reader Genre: Comfort / Angst Words: ± 1 800

Everyone can feel the weight of the last events on their shoulders. Mainly Ivar, but he won't be able to handle it if (y/n)'s also angry at him.

╚═══*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝

“I’m not coming with you.”

“Well, and I’m not leaving without you.”

Ivar had shot me that look that showed I had no choice as much as the pride in my chest made me want to bury my feet in the ground in a way no one would be able to get me off there, but I know Ivar would still find a way. That bastard.

It’s not really that I didn’t want to avenge Ragnar’s death, but knowing how Kattegat would still need my presence had me reluctant to leave. Then, perhaps, my presence wasn’t actually needed, after all, since the gods seemed to favor my presence in the trip, despite my distaste for it, so all I can do now is to thank the gods for guiding and protecting me. Not only a couple of lives were lost in the battles against Aelle’s and Ecbert’s warriors, no matter our victory. Not all of the deaths were caused by the enemies, too. For the gods, Sigurd.

A heavy feeling still settles itself over my chest whenever I think about what happened. We were all laughing and partying at one moment, then gasping and falling silent at the other. The event is somewhat difficult to digest, somehow, given how being by Bjorn’s side while he blood eagle-d Aelle didn’t even make the ground swirl under my feet—something that used to happen quite often—, and I had never been that close to Sigurd, after all. He never allowed me to. Whatever it is, the gods shall reveal everything at some point, I hope.

Perhaps I’m not mentally as strong as I thought I am; I came here against my will at first, still feeling not only angry at being here but also the rage boil under my skin at the thought of how they killed Ragnar, giving him a death that he surely didn’t deserve, then faced stupid Christians who cursed me even while having my axe in their chest, dealt with Ubbe’s bad humour after I established support towards Ivar’s strategies, and Sigurd’s death was probably the final trigger. May Freyr help me.

Last time I saw Ivar, he had gone over to Floki, if I’m not wrong, and the other three siblings seem as enthusiastic to talk with me as I am about them, so I just walk past them without a word on my way up the creek to the woods nearby, seeking a while alone with myself and my bow.

These lands are different, warmer, but we haven’t faced any difficulties regarding feeding so far, so it’s not really a problem. No fish swim around the creek nor does any other animal wander nearby—at least none of decent size—, turning darker spots on the trees into my arrows’ aim. Four of the arrows must be shot in total, though. Not exactly due to how I don’t want the arrows to go in waste—I can simply retrieve some of them—, but because my mind keeps wandering around in the intervals between each shot.

I have no idea how long I stay in the woods, sitting there on a log that has fallen near the creek, I just know that sometimes it feels like too long has gone by at the same time nothing did whilst I kept replaying the past events in my mind. It was all too fast.

A twig cracking immediately makes me point a new arrow towards whoever is approaching, and even if I look directly at his face, it takes me a moment to finally notice it’s Ivar there, raising an eyebrow at me, something between surprised and daring. My bow and arrow are dropped to the grass with a soft thud, and I let out a breath I didn’t know to be holding, observing the water go down the creek while Ivar crawls closer until taking place some feet away from me, eventually pulling his legs to sit in front of him.

Ivar does take a few breaths that make it sound like he’s going to say something, only for the words to never leave his lips, instead leaving us in a silence that’s only interrupted by the soft sound of water and birds chirping, occasionally also by the sound of the wind going through the leaves of the trees whenever the breeze picks up.

“Are you...” Ivar clears his throat. “Are you angry at me?” He looks down at first, taking a couple of glances at me.

“Angry?” My eyebrows knit together, and my lips are tugged into a frown automatically; I roll my eyes at myself. “Why— No, Ivar, no! Come here.” I push my bow and arrows further away with my foot whilst pulling my legs apart, patting the space on the grass between my feet. His eyes narrow for a moment, and he looks me up and down. What’s taking him so long? A sigh escapes my lips as I let my elbow rest on my knee, raising an eyebrow at him until he finally moves closer, and I can’t help but to notice how it seems like his movements are heavier than usual. Not only that, but the dark circles under his eyes are also puffy and red. “Have you been sleeping?”

Ivar pulls his legs forward in order to sit properly, scooting back until his back hits the log, and looks back at me with his eyebrows furrowed in that semi-permanent scowl he seems to be carrying lately.

“Trying to,” he sighs heavily. He rests his head on my thigh as I cup his face to clean the dirt that stuck to his cheeks due to the tears that once stained them, trying not to let any emotion slip—which might actually work this time given Ivar’s tired mind state, not the alert one that catches on every minimum difference on my mood—and eventually let him return to a more comfortable position in which his cheek presses against my thigh instead.

My fingers run through his strands, which are greasy, though thankfully not tied into knots, not giving me a lot of trouble to take a few strands of hair in hand to start braiding them. It’s messy, of course. My hands shake with the tiredness already tugging onto my muscles from so long of holding onto the bow and its string, not to mention how I’m also sleepy, in a way. Something weighs my eyelids, but I know I’ll just keep tossing around if I lie down to try to get some rest.

I inhale, about to tell him something when Ivar speaks up instead, leaning back a little into my hands when nails scratch his scalp lightly. “They don’t believe me.”

A silent sigh escapes my nose, but I never let my emotions reach Ivar, no, only giving us a long break before I hum, nodding a little. “They’re still taking in what happened, Ivar. Give them a while, and to yourself as well.” I let my hand fall to the side of his neck for a moment, leaning in to press a kiss to his temple, where I let my lips linger for a moment, appreciating the closeness. It didn’t even feel like it had actually been so long since I last spent time with him, lost among the thirst for revenge and taking care of fresh wounds, not to mention I preferred not to get more involved in the brothers’ discussions, given how Ubbe and Sigurd had already not shown so much sympathy towards me in the beginning.

“Will you hold me?” Ivar’s words are almost lost between the sound of the water and the wind, but I still catch on, feeling the vibrations of his throat under my fingers. “I miss you, I need you.” His voice trembles a little, nearly cracks, and I move back a little, struggling, but enough to see how glossy his eyes seem as he looks into the distance.

“Yes, of course,” I hum, giving him another kiss, this time on the side of his face. “You know how I do everything for you.”

I let Ivar rest there for a moment, given how calm he seems in most likely so long, but soon I gather my things, which Ivar actually takes so my arms are free in order to carry him back, with my arms hooked under his legs and his arms wrapped around my neck. His breath tickles my neck a little, and for a moment I wonder whether he’s awake or not given the slow breathing movements of his chest against my back, only finding my answer through the way he still holds onto my bow and arrows firmly.

People are off to their tasks, of course—Bjorn plans on leaving whilst Hvitserk and Ubbe still sulk around, but some of the others prepare to leave with Bjorn, hence the rest probably already sorts out the outturns of the last hunt or guard the place—, so those aren’t many who see Ivar and I returning, getting into the tent so we can finally find peace.

Ivar sighs when I finally let him down on the furs, simply collapsing against them whereas I put my things away, also getting rid of my boots. I light some fire, given how the sunset approaches an end, then join him, finally; pain tugs on my muscles, mainly down my back, as I lie back down against the nice surface, letting myself get used to it for a moment then glance to the side to see Ivar already looking at me.

“Why don’t you at least get rid of the vest?” I raise an eyebrow. “Must help you get more comfortable.” The whiny groan I earn myself in response almost makes me chuckle before I am pressing a kiss to Ivar’s cheek, bringing myself to sit up in order to help him get rid of it.

“Thank you,” Ivar sighs.

“It’s nothing.” I lean in, pressing my lips to his; for the gods, I swear it’s everything I have been needing these last few days, and maybe it’s the same for him. Ivar’s hand cups the side of my neck with a gentle touch that almost tickles at first before growing firm, pulling me closer.

Ivar’s mouth twitches a little as if he were to say something after we pull away, but he just closes his eyes, choosing to remain silent, after all. “Come on,” he says softly, rolling onto his side.

I press a kiss to Ivar’s bare shoulder, letting my lips trail down to the crook of his neck, where I close my eyes for a moment and finally press myself closer, wrapping my arm around him, and whatever magic is in it, feeling Ivar against me, his back moving with his shallow and patterned breathing against my chest, does bring the calmness I needed to finally rest not only my body, but also my mind.

[shorkbrian]

How about some barbarian bakugo noncon?

Prelude - One time I came home from a walk and smelled this scent so freaking thick that I could taste it, and I almost threw up cause it smelled like skinning a deer but like, ten times worse?? and I was like lol that’s kinda weird and it turns out the neighbor had caught a skunk in a catch-and-release trap (which we gave him cause we didn’t want him catching a skunk in a trap that’d kill it) and apparently decided to kill it right then and there, and just let it by the edge of his property, right by my car. That was fun. 

Anyways, Katsuki makes a big deal about reader looking different in this. You can take that any way you’d like. Personally, I was feeling insecure about my freckles (I have so many that my skin almost looks even-toned because they almost all touch rip) and my hair color/odd face so I wrote him liking that reader looked different. It’s not super deep lol

Pairing - Bakugou Katsuki X Reader X slight Izuku Midoriya

Warnings - NSFW, dubcon, noncon, voyerisum, exhibistionism, blood mention lol. Idk groping?

Music - https://open.spotify.com/track/4FeWr4OsidcJClBjUEBHWI?si=OPHwLWXrTsiNQ42SlMKLEg

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There is a point where you stop screaming.

A point when you realize that no one is coming to save you, that you’re wasting your breath, that it’s fruitless. Does nothing more than raw your throat and grate against your own ears.

It’s no use. The Barbarian King seems unaffected, perhaps even spurred on by your ear-splitting screams. There’s no reason to scream anymore - it’d be impossible to scream forever.

——

Village in flames, corpses littering the streets. You’d heard about the stench of death from books, from traveling warriors who stop in your village for a night, regaling the people with tales of heroics and strength. It smelled quite different from what you had imagined though.

Metallic, yes, but tangy, thick enough for you to taste the iron seeping into the ground. Raw, like the scent of the butcher’s shop, heavy and suffocating - you hadn’t been able to breathe.

Everything had happened so fast, too fast. People were dead, people were dying, people were killing and being killed. You had been running, trying to escape the stifling aroma of your village being drained, the barbarians running amok through the streets leeching out it’s lifeblood.

Then you had been falling, tripped up by a loose limb on the ground, a body still warm and rattling with it’s last breaths. Shocked by the vivid image of the gore underneath you, a man reaching for his severed arm, you hadn’t been able to catch yourself as you fell, a cry leaving your lips.

Darkness.

And then light as you slowly blinked to awareness, slumped on the ground. A line of prisoners, prizes from the raid. You were one of them, hands bound to your neck, ankles tied to the people on either side of you. Two men had come by after a while, a green haired man in dress similar to your own - perhaps a captured man from the village?

The other man was bare chested, as many of the barbarians were, gold and red paint swirled across his skin in intricate, sharp patterns. He looked fearsome, and he barked at the green haired man accompanying him who scribbled furiously onto paper at each utterance of the fearsome blonde man.

They seemed to be going down the lengthy line of prisoners, assigning them? Selecting them for something? You didn’t know, couldn’t find it in yourself to care. You were numb, sealed off from the horrific event you had just experienced, safe within your cocoon of forced apathy.

And then the two men were in front of you, the blonde man silent as he stared you down, the green haired man with his pen poised, though he studied you also.

But they quickly moved on, the barbarian barking something at his companion, before striding to the next prisoner.

You had been untied from your fellow captives, led through the barbarian camp. Red tents, warm fires and laughter filled the space, bare-chested warriors of both genders celebrating their recent victory.

The large red tent you had been led to was warm, a fire crackling in the deep pit in the center, silky furs softening the harshness of the ground. There was a table in front of the fire, a large basin filled with water nearby, close to the fire. A desk in the corner, near the tent flap, and a folding screen hiding the back of the tent from view.

Promptly tied to the leg of a table, you were left alone, the woman who had dragged you here leaving before you could ask what was happening.

Shortly, green hair popped through the tent flap, quickly followed by the rest of the man from earlier, the one dressed like your people.

“Izuku Midoriya!” He had introduced himself, giving a little flourish as he bowed, before being pushed aside as the fearsome blonde from before entered the tent.

Still tied to the leg of the table, numb to the world, you merely stared at the ground when the two men approached.

“What’s your name?” The green haired man - Izuku - asked.

He was met with a blank stare.

The blonde man growled at your lack of answer, spitting something in his native tongue, words you didn’t understand. Izuku seemed to shrink, before turning to address you again.

“Please tell us your name. Kacchan is not the most patient man.”

The fearsome man beside him bared his teeth towards you, and you shrank back. He did not seem the type of person who tolerated being left waiting.

“(Y/N)….” You whispered, eyes falling to the ground.

“(Y/N), ah! Such an interesting name, the first part means-“ Izuku was cut off from his ramble with a shove from the blond man - Kacchan - who crouched down in front of you, rolling your name around his tongue.

Turning, he spoke to Izuku in the same jumbled language, who listened, then addressed you as Kacchan turned back to study you again.

“Kacchan would like to know uhm, uuh.....” Izuku trailed off, uncertain eyes flickering between you and the blonde.

Kacchan scoffed, listening to Izuku’s hesitancy with disdain, saying something directed at the younger man, yet Kacchan’s eyes were fixed on you the entire time. It was intimidating.

“He uh, wants to know ifyou’reavirgin.”

Oh god.

Even though the man’s words were rushed, you understood, limbs beginning to shake. You were going to be violated.

A finger poking your calf made you jump, the blonde man leering at you, head cocked to the side, eyebrow raised as if to say “Well?”

You shook your head - lovers had existed in your life, not many, but you still cherished each one deeply, thought back on the experiences you shared fondly.

When relayed this information, the blonde man seemed to grin even wider, rising to his feet. “This will be easier then, no need to go slow.”

With a gasp, you lifted your gaze, wide eyes taking in the man hovering above you. His words were completely forgotten as you took in the shock of understanding his words. He spoke your tongue? Wasn’t he using an interpreter? Why-?

The confusion must be apparent on your face, because Kacchan scoffed, turning to stride to the table, taking a seat facing the fire.

“It pays to play dumb.”

“Loose lipped locals give information more freely when they assume that Kacchan can’t understand them.” Izuku beamed, crouching down in the Barbarian’s previous place to begin untying the rope binding your hands and feet to the table leg.

“Stand up for me please.”

You did as Izuku asked, shakily rising to your feet with a helping hand from Izuku on your arm. He began leading you towards the basin nearby, Kacchan watching the two of you with sharp eyes.

“Do you need help with the fastenings?” Giving Izuku a confused look, your eyes fell to the basin, to the fire, to Kacchan seated at the table. Were they going…. Were they going to boil you alive? Eat you?

Trembling even harder now, it was only Izuku’s surprisingly strong grip on your arm that kept you upright, knees giving out beneath you.

“Help her out, she’s damn near useless.” Kacchan’s strong voice cut through the air, the air that seemed too thick, the air that was choking you, throat closing up.

What does one even do in this situation? Do you beg for your life? Scream for help? Who would come? Accept your inevitable fate?

There was no time to make a decision, however, because Izuku’s nimble fingers were pulling at the fastening of your dress, quickly unlacing it.

You were numb again, fingers leaden, legs heavy, mind fuzzy and listless. Izuku peeled down the top of your dress, and you barely thought to cover yourself - you’d be dead in minutes anyways, what did it matter?

Still, your hands rose to your breasts, shielding them from view involuntarily. Kacchan snorted from his sweat, but said nothing.

When you were completely bare, an arm over your chest, a hand over your sex, Izuku ushered you towards the basin, prompting you to step into it.

This was it, you were going to die.

One last shot of fear raced up your spine, and you turned to the green haired man by your side, his hand falling away from the small of your back. “Please, please don’t kill me, I don’t know what I did but please spare my life. Please, I’m sorry.”  Tears were burning your vision, throat choked up with thickness.

Kacchan burst into laughter. “I’m not gonna kill you, the fuck?! Goddamn, your people call us barbarians yet you’re afraid of a bath, fucking hypocrites.” There was a mirthful glint in his eyes when you looked at him, the man leaning back in his chair, arms resting behind his head as he relaxed.

Izuku chuckled also, putting his hand on your lower back again, gently pushing you towards the basin. “You’ll be okay, it’s just some warm water. It’s close to the fire because we don’t want you to catch a chill. You know, the human body actually operates best when it’s within the temperatures of-“

“Deku, shut your trap before I come kick your ass, just get the girl into the water, you dumb fuck.”

The water was warm, and it felt pleasant against your skin, just on the right side of too warm, hot enough to have you relaxing your shoulders as you sank down lower, the liquid covering you up to your neck.

Izuku-Deku? Held your hair out of the way, quickly using a scoop to wet down the strands before rubbing some kind of herbal scrub through your scalp, cleaning out the dirt and debris that had gathered during the raid. You were certain you were absolutely filthy, covered in mud and small scraps, half of your side crusted with dried blood and muck from falling in the bloody street.

For a moment, you felt embarrassed at your earlier panic, silly and like a stupid child, thinking that they were going to boil and eat you. It was clear now what their intent had been, but riddled with fear your thoughts had been clouded and slow.

Fear was still present, rolling through your brain in waves, goosebumps rising from your flesh as you tried to hypothesize what was going to happen to you. From their earlier questioning, you had a faint idea, but you couldn’t bear to think about that outcome, didn’t know if you could tolerate it.

Instead, you let the warm water soothe your body, washing away the grime and dust. Izuku’s hands were gentle in your hair, as he massaged your scalp, as he rinsed out the soap. You tried to ignore how his breath hitched whenever you shifted - you couldn’t keep all of your body covered, no matter how you positioned yourself.

His hands disappeared from your hair, instead prompting your to sit up straight so he could scrub at your body with a cloth smelling of the herbal soap.

It felt weird, and goosebumps arose on your skin as strange hands touched your body. You closed your eyes and endured, for there was nothing else that could be done.

Running would be a bad idea - a naked woman sprinting through the barbarian camp would surely be caught and violated, or brought back to this tent for some twisted punishment. And you could only run if you managed to get past the two men, who ere watching you like hawks, and much, much stronger than you.

Izuku’s hands paused briefly at your chest, eyes flickering over to the blonde man, who nodded in permission. Then Izuku’s hand were running the cloth across your breasts, washing them in gentle circular motions, taking care to not scrub too hard or push too deep.

You bit your tongue as you waited for it to be over.

And it was soon, at least that part. Then the green haired man was instructing you up on your knees, facing him. Telling you to grab onto his shoulder (the man was also kneeling) and spread your legs apart.

Trembling limbs obeyed, face flushing bright red as you followed his commands, eyes squeezing shut so you wouldn’t have to look at his own flushed face.

He ran the cloth down your back, over your ass, then slipped it between your legs to wash your sex with easy swipes of the cloth. The man’s breathing picked up subtly, and you could tell, leaning up against him as you were. His hands wandered, the cloth moving slower and slower upon your cunt, almost stroking at your folds, his fingers pressing through the cloth.

“Oi, Deku! Keep your shitty hands to yourself, you’re supposed to be washing her up, not feeling her up, shitbrain.” Kacchan barked, slamming his fist down against the table to get Izuku’s attention.

Both you and the man in front of you jumped, Izuku immediately blushing the deepest red you’d ever seen, flashing the blonde an apologetic look and you a nervous smile, before he seemed to gather himself, continuing to dutifully cleanse your nether regions.

It was awkward for the both of you, feeling his hands run over your private areas, over your sex, through your ass cheeks. But then he was down, rinsing you off with scoops of warm water before fetching a large towel, ushering you out of the basin, holding out the towel to wrap around your body when you stepped out.

Then you were ushered closer to the fire, sat upon a small stool as you huddled close to the warmth, clutching the towel tightly around you. The air was quite warmer than outside, but was still cold to your wet skin.

Izuku began running his fingers through your hair, parting knots, patting sections dry with a corner of the towel. By the time he was finished, you felt warm again, face rosy from the heat of the fire.

The heat felt pleasant, like the feeling of a full belly after a long day.

You were tired, exhausted from the emotional weight you had endured. Village burned, tripping over corpses and disembodied limbs, taken captive, forced away from your fellow villagers.  Stripped down and fondled - at this point, you just wanted to sleep.

To sleep and sleep, wake up and have this all be a bad dream. Some twisted nightmare your mind conjured up while in the warmth and safety of your own home.

A large hand upon your shoulder roused you from your half-asleep state, lulled by the warmth of the fire and the quietness of the tent. You jumped, turning to find Kacchan towering over you and Izuku both.

Kacchan crouched, his hand sliding from your shoulder to your hair, then onto your cheek. “You look so fuckin’ weird.”

Izuku sputtered. “Oh my god, what he means to say, is that we’ve never seen anyone like you before. You’re… quite unique, and very um, attractive.”

You leaned away from the hand on your cheek, and Kacchan let you, red eyes blinking slowly as they scanned your features.  He was an odd man, as was Izuku. There was an obvious dynamic of power, Izuku submitting to Kacchan willingly.

“Alright, you’re dry enough, get up.” You blinked at Kacchan, processing his words, before he huffed out a breath, rising to his own feet. “C’mon, let’s go, are you stupid? Get the fuck up.”

You scrambled to your feet, towel still wrapped tightly around your body, preserving your modesty.

Kacchan’s hand shot out, gripping the back of your neck, pulling you along with him as he strode towards the back of the tent, towards the sectioned screen acting as a wall.

“Deku, make your ass useful and dump out the bathwater, will ya?”

You weren’t able to see Izuku move due to the hand forcing your head forward, but you could hear his footsteps as he hurried to do what Kacchan instructed.

Rounding the screen, it was clear to see that this was where the Barbarian King slept, a pile of cozy-looking furs strewn in a pile on the ground.

You were promptly shoved towards them, stumbling down to your knees as you lost your balance. The furs provided cushion though, soft and inviting.

But you were scared again.

It was happening, it was going to happen, you were going to raped by the King.

Turning back towards the man, you began to plead, hands securing the towel around your shoulders like a safety blanket. “Sir, please, don’t do this, why me? You can have anyone, not me, please not me.”

He ignored you in favor of beginning to strip, unfastening his cloak, removing his weapons. You decided to try and appeal using a more personal approach.

“Kacchan-“

Suddenly the man was in your face, his own visage twisted into a growl.

“Don’t you ever fucking call me that. Stupid ass Deku made that shit up when we were kids, I’m not some brat anymore. I’m Katsuki-“ He backed away from you, leaving you trembling. “-Barbarian King.”

The man resumed removing his clothes, dropping his belt to the ground, grumbling as he began to undo his pants. “Should beat his fuckin’ ass for calling me that, so goddamn disrespectful. Fuck him, stupid little ass wipe twerp-“

You tuned him out, frozen. What could you do? Another impasse where your options were none.

A strong hand gripped your shoulder, or more accurately, your towel, tugging it forcefully away from you.

“No!” You cried, trying to pull it back, to cover yourself, but the man was stronger, ripping it away before you could utter another word.

“No! Stop, please!” You tried again, finally taking in Kacc-Katsuki before you. He was naked now, aside from the paint decorating his skin. His cock was quickly hardening, plumping up with each step he took towards you as you scrambled backwards.

“Katsuk-Katsuki, I’m begging you, please don’t do this. I’ll do anything! Please just have someone else!” You sobbed, back finally meeting the wall of the tent.

Katsuki smirked, crouching down just out of your reach. “You’ll do anything? You’ll let my horde use you as a toy then?”

Dread flowed through your already fear-filled body, and you gulped thickly, eyes closing.

“No?”

Shaking your head, you started to cry silently, tears slipping down your cheeks.

“You’re already doing fucking anything.” Katsuki growled, hand shooting out to grab your ankle, dragging you down and towards him.

A high-pitched cry left you as he pulled you under him, until he was hovering over you, grinning. “Cry all you want, ain’t gonna change a damn thing. In fact-“ He surged down, until his forehead touched your own, red eyes blazing “-It just turns me on more.”

The man pulled away, a hand falling heavily around your throat, giving a compulsory squeeze before hie started moving his hand downwards, fingers skimming across your flesh.

Immediately, your own hands caught his own, trying to still their journey as they neared your breasts. Katsuki paused, a sound akin to a growl falling from his throat as his eyes flickered away from your body and up to your own eyes.

There was a threat there, a warning. Let him touch, or else. Trembling, you removed your hands, instead grabbing at the furs you rested upon. Katsuki made a gruff sound of approval, before resuming his exploration of your body.

“You’re like nothing I’vs ever seen before, know that? Like some fuckin’ alien or something, but damn, you’re gorgeous. Didn’t even know someone could look like this.” He mused, entranced as he watched his hands splay over your body, pinching at your skin, caressing your breasts, slipping over your stomach and down between your legs.

“Oh god, pleaseee-“ You sobbed out, cringing as a finger trailed down your slit.

Katsuki stilled, quirking a brow as he smiled meanly. “Please what? You wanna cum?”

“Please stop…” You whispered, eyes clenching shut again as he found your clit, giving it a few quick rubs.

The man scoffed, before quickly teasing one of his fingers into your tight hole. “Tough shit, I’ve never had whatever the fuck you are, I ain’t stopping”

His finger burned, dry and too large, and you struggled to keep from clenching down upon it in discomfort, trying to force out the intrusion. This would go easier if you relaxed, if you let him have his way. You knew that, rationally, but it was hard to make you body obey.

Katsuki prepped you quickly, fingering you open until he deemed you ready, withdrawing his fingers and crudely wiping them off upon your thigh. You twitched away at the wetness, at your own slick being cleaned off  on your skin, but Katsuki ignored you.

“Why do you look like this anyway? What the fuck happened?” Katsuki asked coarsely, shuffling off of your thighs, moving to lounge by your side, studying you.

The man seemed to be taking a break, more interested in your looks than fucking you, but you were glad for the reprieve, trying to wipe tears from your face as you struggled to think of a response.

“I-I don’t know?” You finally spoke, genuinely at a loss for how to explain your appearance.

Katsuki studied you with sharp eyes, a hand reaching down to his cock, beginning to absent-mildly pump himself while he looked you over.

“I’ve traveled through every shitty little village in the north, met with the damn piss-baby tribes of the east, I’ve ransacked the towns of spoiled nobles, and I’ve never seen anyone who looks like you.”

You sat up, subtly shuffling away from the Barbarian King while you shrugged, at a loss.

Your appearance wasn’t anything superiorly unusual, but apparently it piqued Katsuki’s interest. Yes, your skin was perhaps a bit different, but it’s not like you were inhuman.

Katuski seemed to get tired of talking though, settling further back into the furs, getting himself comfortable as he jerked himself off. You refused to look between his legs.

“Alright, whatever. Get up here.”

Pausing, you looked at him incredulously. Did he mean on his lap? His chest? You didn’t want to be anywhere near him - wouldn’t he find more pleasure with someone who was willing?

“Are you fucking deaf? C’mon, up.” He growled, patting his thigh, urging you over.

A gulp before you started moving, limbs heavy and hesitant, unwilling as you slowly crawled forward, towards the intimidating, impatient blonde.

You straddled his thighs unsteadily, swinging your leg over, trying to avoid touching his cock.

Unfortunately, despite your best efforts, you caught sight of it, the red tip, the precum making his length shine, the wrinkly, darker skin of his balls, his blond pubes.

You cringed, distaste evident upon your face, and you heard Katsuki chuckle darkly before his hands grabbed your hips, dragging you forward.

“What, don’t fucking like what you see? Am I not to your taste? I’ve fucked whorebag princesses less fussy than you. Get over yourself.” He spat, before taking a hand off your hip, reaching underneath you to line himself up as his other hand kept you lifted.

You trembled in his hold, twitching and swaying to the side, but this was unavoidable.

A gasp left your lips as he entered you, tip slipping through your folds, teasing into your wet hole, stretching you out.

Katsuki let out a groan, slowly dropping you down until he could remove his hand from his cock, returning it to your hip, guiding you to push further down. You felt disgusting, his cock sliding against your velvety insides, dirtying your walls with leaking precum.

When your sit bones rested against his upper thighs, his cock resting fully inside you, it felt impossible to breathe, your chest rising to draw in air but failing, the distress you felt upon being speared open seemingly too much for your body to handle.

“Fucking hell, you’re so tight. You got a dirty little cunt, don’t you? Feels fucking amazing.” Katsuki groaned, moving his hips minutely, relishing the grip your inside had on his cock, how warm you were around him.

“Ride me, will you? I’m getting bored down here.” He snapped after a moment, delivering a harsh slap to your rear to emphasize his words, spurring you into tentative action.

Problem is, you didn’t want to.

Your palms rested against his heated chest, eyes raising to the ceiling as your cheeks burned. This was embarrassing, you couldn’t do this. You couldn’t be an active participant in your violation. What would that make you?

“Oi, princess - I don’t got all night.“ Katsuki growled, landing a significantly more-jarring hit to rear, hard enough to make you squeak and jump, hips twitching at the sensation of his cock moving around your pussy at the movement.

Afraid of more forceful repercussions, you started to move, slowly sliding up, then down, creeping along, hoping it’d be enough to satisfy the man.

It wasn’t.

Katsuki grumbled something under his breath, before tightening his hold on your hips, planting his feet in the furs, then plunging into you with force. The sudden movement jostled you, and you fell forward with a cry, head bouncing onto Katsuki’s chest by your hands, the man groaning as he found a satisfactory rhythm.

“There we go, that’s fuckin’ nice.”

You cried into his chest, hands clutched into fists as you were bounced up and down, the led slap of skin too loud and jarring in the tent. The paint on Katsuki’s body was beginning to smear, sweat dampening his skin and letting the paint drip onto the ground, transfer to your own skin.

It was starting to feel good, make your stomach tighten, limbs tremble with pleasure instead of fear, and you hated it.

Slick sounds reached your ears, out of rhythm with Katsuki’s quick prods. It was wet, pulsing, as if someone-

Gasping breaths reached your ears, not from the man grunting beneath you.

Another round of cold fear dampened your arousal as you honed in on the sound, realizing it was coming from the other side of the screen.

Someone was on the other side of the screen, listening in to the Barbarian King taking you against your will.

A stuttered cry left you when Katsuki pushed too hard, hitting your sweet spot, making you clench and shudder, forgetting about the other person for a second.

But they were so loud, little gasps and moans, and the shlick, shlick, shlick, was getting faster and faster, it was impossible to ignore.

Should you try to tell Katsuki? Would he stop? Would he be mad? It was so disturbing, knowing someone was sitting on the other side of the screen,  jerking themselves off so obviously .

“Katsuki-Katsuki wait, oh-“ You started, quickly cut off by a series of battering thrusts against your sweet spot.

But you had to try again. “Wait, sto-o-op, wa-unh, unh, Katsuki pl-mmh!”

“Shut up, I don’t fucking care.” The man snapped, out of breath.

“But there’s-oh…. Katsuki there’s someo-“

“I don’t /fucking care/.” Katsuki reiterated, gritting his teeth. He shut you up with another perfectly placed push against your sweet spot, and a cruel spank against your already-stinging ass.

“Ow!” You yelped, clenching up.  It was clear now, that Katsuki was aware of the listener, he just didn’t mind. Maybe he got off on it, knowing someone was listening to him take apart his latest conquest.

Clenching up was the wrong response, because the Barbarian King swore, before his hips sped up, bouncing you so violently on his lap that you found it hard to breath, barely able to hang on for the ride.

“Oh…. (Y/N)….” The voice behind the screen moaned lowly, almost whispering.

It was Izuku.

You shivered, at the sound, feeling creeped out with the knowledge that the gentle, timid “interpreter” was listening. He must have returned at some point from dumping out the basin. You were feeling revolted by this entire situation, disgusted with Katsuki, Izuku, and most importantly with yourself.

Pleasure was building quickly in your stomach, zapping up into your chest, making you tingle and shake with the sensations assaulting your body.

“Sit back, fucking sit back-“ Katsuki panted, pushing at one of your shoulders to push you up, so he could see you as he fucked up into you, watch your body move, your face contorting in pleasure.

You felt like you couldn’t help it, your eyes closing, mouth falling open to let out girlish, high-pitched moans.

Your breasts were being jostled, jiggling up and down with the movement of your body, and it hurt. Hands moved to hold them, stopping their bouncing, but Katsuki appreciated the view apparently, because he groaned, pushing his head back while still trying to watch you.

“Fuck, that’s so hot. Keep touching yourself princess, keep moaning like a little slut. Let Deku know how fucking good I’m making you feel.”

Your body didn’t give you a choice, noises being pushed from your throat involuntarily as Katsuki pounded into you, red eyes trained on your frame, intense and unwavering.

An orgasm ripped through you, seemingly out of nowhere despite the steady buildup of it the past few minutes. You gasped, breathing catching in your throat, hips furiously grinding down against Katsuki’s as you rode it out, trying to stimulate your clit to intensify the feeling.

The noises leaving you were perverted; wet gasps, little squeaks and long moans as you fucked yourself onto Katsuki’s cock, previous hesitance forgotten in preference of chasing your pleasure.

Katsuki swore underneath you again, rabbiting his hips up into you in response, breathing raggedly as he neared his own release.

You were so lost in feeling the sensations in your own body, you didn’t register the stuttered groans on the other side of the screen, the speedy clicking of Izuku jerking himself through his own orgasm, the almost-silent spatter of his cum hitting the screen.

Katsuki swore once more, a vehement “Shit, shit!” before he pulled out quickly, orgasm apparently catching him by surprise, the first few warm strings of cum shooting into your warm cunt, adding to the wet mess of your own orgasm.

The rest was aimed onto the puffy lips of your slit, one of Katsuki’s hands leaving your hips to pump his cock as he gasped, hips twitching upward at the sudden temperature change from your burning heat to the air of the tent.

Then there was just the sound of three people breathing heavily, completely spent, sweaty and dirtied from sex.

Katsuki pulled you down onto his chest, chuckling breathlessly as he brought his clean hand to your head, ruffling your hair tiredly.

“Well, you’re a goddamn catch, pussy’s like a fuckin’ vice.” The crude comment made your cheeks color, but as exhausted as you were, you couldn’t find the energy to offer a rebuttal.

“I think you’re gonna stick around for a while.” Katsuki mused, and you felt your heart drop. “Yeah, you’re a keeper. Maybe if fuckface over there-“ The blond slapped at the screen “-can stop being a pervert, we could actually fuck without feeling creeped out.”  He growled, although the blonde didn’t sound irritated in the least.

A small “Sorry Kacchan” was whispered from the other side of the screen, and Katsuki laughed dryly.

“Tell you what bastard, maybe I’ll let you touch her a bit.” Katsuki said, a hand creeping down to knead at your ass. “Then you don’t have to act like a little freak. Who knows, maybe I’ll even let you fuck her if you do good translating those maps we found. Got it, you little shitnugget?”

“Mm, alright Kacchan.” Came the tired response.

You were barely awake, already drifting off on Katsuki’s warm chest, too preoccupied with the red and gold paint no doubt smearing against your cheek than with the conversation going on around you.

You could panic about that later.

[bunnykawa]

what are you doing, step bro? (sakusa x f. reader)

summary: To your parents, Sakusa was the greatest son. To you, he was the best big brother you could’ve ever asked for, but you could only find that out with a little force.

a/n: i literally just started college so i won't have much time to write but i have some stories in my drafts that'll be posted in awhile lol. should i open requests for haikyuu drabbles since they're short but still entertaining?? idek i feel like no one is reading this rn LOL but if anyone is reading this, lmk ;)

(edit: I HAD TO REPOST THIS CS IT WASNT SHOWING UP IN TAGS so sorry if you already liked this post)

warnings: 18+, incest, mentions of drugging,  mentions of somnophilia, mentions of parental neglect, noncon/dubcon/rape, sakusa is a dirty pervert i just don’t know how else to tag this, degradation, slight manipulation

"(Y/N), this is your new big brother, Kiyoomi," your mother said, holding tightly onto your small shoulders as you stood in front of her.

"You can refer to him as your nii-san from now on." Locking eyes with you was an older boy with long black wavy hair, two moles on the right side of his forehead, and a white face mask on the lower half of his face which blocked his nose and mouth. How odd, you thought. You could tell he was disinterested with how his eyes were blank as he stared at you.

That was the first time meeting your step brother, Sakusa Kiyoomi.

Being four years younger than Sakusa, you two never really got along. Of course you had to respect each other, but there was nothing to really talk about other than when his volleyball games were or unfulfilling small talks. Sometimes he would make snide remarks, asking if you even showered when your hair was only slightly messy or if a smart word ever came out of your mouth when you stumbled over your words. Sometimes he was just mean to you in general to the point where you would cry. You always tried to ignore it, though. That was when you were younger. You couldn’t help that you weren’t that smart and he was your nii-san after all. Your parents would brush it off.

You celebrated his victories together, only because you had to. I mean, you were the younger sister of one of the nation's top three aces in high school volleyball. There was no way your parents wouldn't celebrate. He was their pride and joy.

Smart, athletic, incredibly attractive — everything you felt like you could never live up to.

Your own biological mom so obviously and painfully liked him more than you.

Before you even entered high school, Sakusa was old enough to move out and go to college where he continued to play volleyball. When he visited during the holidays, you still wouldn't have decent conversations with him. He would still insult you. It even made you cringe when you had to call him nii-san. Why address him as your older brother when he didn't even act like it?

But you dealt with it because you had to.

Fresh out of Itachiyama Academy, you're focused on studying for entrance exams for colleges in your area rather than what would happen if you ever had to see Sakusa again. But, you were expecting to see him very soon.

Gentle knocks are heard from outside your door and before you can respond, your mom is already opening it.

"(Y/N), Omi is coming today and he's gonna be here for a week. I have to go to the grocery store to buy food and I'm gonna run other errands so it's gonna take awhile," she says, leaning her head into your room. You respond multiple times with "okay" so she can leave your room sooner.

Textbooks and notebooks are strewn across your bed with you on your stomach, trying to cram as much information in your head as possible.

"That means I might not be here in time for when he comes, so you have to open the door and greet him," she adds.

"What about dad?" you ask with a grimace. The most you would do is say hello and scurry back into your room.

She rolls her eyes at you. "He's working late again. You know that, (Y/N)." With a sigh, you agree and she finally leaves your room after bidding you a "goodbye."

You can't remember the last time you saw Sakusa, but it was probably almost half a year ago. Ever since he left for college, your parents were even more distant towards you. They probably felt like they didn't need to worry about you because you weren't doing anything important.

When Sakusa came over, he barely acknowledged you and you were okay with that because it meant he wouldn't be bothering you.

But that didn't mean his blank stare wouldn't catch your attention whenever you came out of your room to eat or use the restroom. The atmosphere felt...very odd around him. You couldn't necessarily come up with a reason why.

Suddenly, you hear knocking on the front door. It had to be at least an hour or two since your mom left and the thought of who was waiting at the door made your stomach churn.

"Nii-san is here," you mutter to yourself as you got up to open the door. Right as you open the door, Sakusa was staring down at you with the same blankness in his eyes from before with his usual face mask. His hair was shorter than you remember.

Mindlessly, his eyes seem to scan your body before returning to your face, making you feel self-conscious. You were only wearing black spandex shorts and a loose tank top. Subconsciously, you rub your arm and step back to make space.

"(Y/N)," Sakusa acknowledges you in a deadpan voice. It's no surprise to you.

"Hi, onii-san. How are you?" You try so hard to be polite, but Sakusa seemed to have a naturally dominant energy that overwhelmed your senses, even if he also seemed to have the personality of a jar of mayonnaise. You step aside so he can come in. He wore gray sweatpants and a black windbreaker that was zipped up all the way. As soon as he makes it inside, he removes his face mask, stuffs it in his pocket, and starts unzipping his jacket.

"I'm good," he hums, "Where's mom?" He places the backpack he was carrying on the couch and takes a seat as you close the door.

"She's out doing errands and dad is working. Do you want some tea?"

"Yes, please. Make sure you wash your hands before you do. Thank you," he said. You walk into the kitchen, muttering "germaphobe" under your breath at his extra request. Unbeknownst to you, he watched you from his place on the couch as you walked around the kitchen, pulling the tea kettle out of one of the bottom cabinets and looking for cups. His gaze followed the outline of your ass in those tiny shorts that hugged your bottom tightly.

"What college are you planning on going to, (Y/N)?"

"I'm not sure yet, but I'm applying to the college you're going to and three others," you replied from your spot near the counter.

Sakusa actually perks up at your answer. "Oh, cool. You'll love it there if you get in. Only if, though. You're not the brightest."

You couldn't help but let your face fall in a frown at his seemingly small comment. Quickly, you compose yourself and brush off his remark. You got the water boiling in the tea kettle and reached high for the teacups that were sitting on the top cabinets. Your stepdad definitely put them up there.

A presence looms close behind you, which makes your whole body automatically freeze and tense up. A veiny, bulky arm reaches up easily to grab the teacups while another one snakes around you to pull your tank top down as it was exposing your stomach. You're not sure if you're imagining it, but you definitely feel something stiff brushing up against your back.

"You need to be careful. Don't wanna hurt yourself, do you?" Sakusa commented, leaning forward so his mouth was right next to your ear. A blush found its way onto your cheeks from feeling him so close to you.

He usually hated being so close to people. What was so different today?

"R-right," you stuttered, "Thank you, nii-san."

Confrontation wasn't a strong trait of yours.

You guess that moment was when it started getting really weird between you two. You still had small talks from whenever he would actually see you come out of your room, but you wanted to avoid him as much as you could. However, that was hard when Sakusa insisted that you drank tea together every night and, of course, your parents insisted, too.

Your nii-san wants to spend more time with you, they would say excitedly. Better late than never!

Maybe if he was showing the slightest bit of interest in you, your parents would finally care about you. So, with much hesitation, you started drinking tea with your step brother every night. Sakusa even made the tea himself so his poor little sister wouldn't tire herself out with carrying that heavy teapot.

You're still not sure if you're imagining things, but the tea tasted different from how you made it. And you swear that the tea didn't make you so sleepy after drinking it until he started making it.

"Come here," Sakusa would say with a smirk, "Onii-san will take you to bed."

You would pass out before you even made it to bed, but every morning you woke up with sticky thighs, only blaming it on sweating while you were sleeping.

Until one day, you didn't drink all the tea that he made you. You still fell asleep, though. Your brain was hazy enough to make you lose consciousness as he helped you up from your seat in the kitchen.

Sakusa laid next to you on your bed. You were placed on your side so he could slide under the sheets right behind you to press his hardened length against your ass. This was his favorite part of the night. He spent a few minutes playing with your cunt to make it slick enough for him to let his cock break through your walls.

You barely stirred awake. Didn't even move an inch as he caressed every part of your body, from your soft nipples to the sensitive nub between your thighs.

He pushed the elastic of his sweatpants down to his thighs quickly. His cock hit your ass before settling between your folds. A satisfied moan leaves his lips when he feels your wetness coating the top part of his shaft as he rubbed it against you. He hooked his arm around one of your legs so that you were spread open enough for him to fuck you and rub your clit at the same time with his other hand.

He wanted that sweet nectar completely coating his dick. He remembers the way you tasted and how you came on his tongue the night before, despite being blacked out from the little pills he would dissolve in your drinks. You tasted so clean and smelled so fresh. It was impossible for your nii-san to control himself around you.

And when did your ass look so good? God...Sakusa couldn't believe he never noticed how cute and well-shaped you were. You weren't that little girl he met when you were both kids. You were pushing adulthood now. Still pathetic looking, still too shy, still small around him, but fuck, he definitely would have pushed you over the counter the first day he came over and fucked you until you were crying and gagging.

He continued rubbing circles onto your clit and letting his cock soak up your juices. Gently, he positions the tip at your entrances and pushes in slowly.

"There you go," he whispers in your ear, "I know it's a little big. Don't worry."

He manages to fill you up all the way, making him groan. Your walls were tight around him. He thrusts in and out of you carefully, salvaging the feeling of your slick interior.

But you didn't drink all the tea, which means that you could wake up earlier than he expected.

Sakusa didn't expect you to wake up now.

You stirred slightly as you regained consciousness. Although your eyelids were heavy, you tried to force them open only to be met with darkness.

"Mmm," you croaked, rubbing your eyes. The odd feeling of being filled up suddenly made you wake up more. "W-what's going on?"

"Fuck," Sakusa muttered from behind you. You felt a hard chest pressed against your back and...a hand on your pussy. No, something inside your pussy. And that voice was so familiar.

You quickly whip your head around when the realization dawns on you. What the fuck is happening? While your eyes adjust to the dark room, you see two familiar eyes staring straight back at you. He stopped grinding his hips against you for a moment as if time stopped.

"...Nii-san?" you hesitated. His breathing was heavy and he stayed silent.

"Nii-san, what are you doing?" you asked in a panicked voice. You quickly tried to get up from your position, only to be held down by Sakusa’s muscular arms. His hand wrapped itself over your lips to prevent you from screaming.

“Be a good girl and stay quiet, (Y/N),” he whispered. A muffled scream tries to escape your lips. He continued to fuck you slowly, leaving a burning feeling in your walls. The same sore feeling that you would sometimes wake up to within the past few days.

For a moment, you pry his fingers off of your mouth. "I don't understand...Why are you...?" You yelped in surprise, horror, and pleasure as he delivered a sharp thrust from behind you. The smack of his hips against your bare ass made you cringe and feel so disgusted with yourself. Nii-san is actually inside me.

"My poor little sister," he chucked darkly. He suddenly wraps his arm around your knee tighter and forces your legs wide open, your knee almost touching your chest. Instead of putting his hand over your mouth to shut you up, he kneads your breast. His hands were so large.

"You think you can walk around the house looking like a little slut in those tiny shorts?" He stretches you open with his hard cock with slow, yet hard, thrusts. It left your mouth agape, but no sounds left your throat except for small squeaks that you couldn't hold back. "You stupid bitch. Just as dumb as I could remember. Fuck, you don't know how much I wanted to bend you over and fill you up with my cum like the stupid, desperate slut you are."

He was satisfied as you were barely fighting him. All you did was desperately search for something to hold onto and bite your lip because you were so scared. His words were painful. "Look at you. A waste of fucking space, only good as a fuck hole. Didn't even realize she was getting drugged and getting fucked every night because she's so fucking stupid."

Weak. That was all your brain was telling you, mocking you, as Sakusa didn't stop moving against you and insulting you. This wasn't the first time. It just so happened that this time you were able to wake up.

"I-I..." you stuttered, "I'll...I'll tell mom and dad." The sheets were gripped tightly between your fingers. "I'll tell them- mmmm...what nii-san has been doing to me..."

"If you tell mom and dad, they wouldn't even care," Sakusa said in a patronizing tone. The way his hand was caressing you made you wanna cry.

“They would!”

"Mom and dad don't even treat you like a daughter, (Y/N). When was the last time they told you they loved you?" Even if his question was rhetorical, your mind went completely blank. You can't recall a moment where they ever told you they loved you.

"B-but, this isn't right! You're not supposed to be doing this," you argued. It was a surprise that your mind wasn't completely clouded by how big his cock was and how his thrusts felt almost hateful.

"You think they would choose your side? You'd be ruining your own life. Maybe you'd ruin mine. And it'd be. All. Your. Fault." With each syllable, his movements became sharper. "You don't wanna betray your nii-san by saying something, do you?"

"You love your nii-san, right?"

You do. You love him so much, even if you tried to avoid him and he never said a single good thing to you in your whole damn life.

Because you have to love him.

You stopped gripping on the sheets to the point where your knuckles were turning ghostly white to brush away the tears rolling down your cheeks. Your body shook, from both crying because of Sakusa's painful words and how hard he was fucking you. The pleasure building up in your core was overwhelming you, making that intense feeling of having to pee forced out of you.

Hearing your sniffles and small cries, Sakusa pulls you even tighter against him, but doesn't stop his relentless thrusting. It turned him on even more. He pushes your hand to brush away your tears for you, like good big brothers should.

"It's okay, (Y/N). We both know mom and dad don't love you."

A loud cry erupted from your chest. Maybe if your parents cared about you, they'd be running to your room to save you the second you started crying. But, no. Sakusa was basking in the fact that you were hurting on the inside. After years of negligent silence, you were finally letting it all out.

"But nii-san loves you," he said with a smile.

Although his words seemed to stun your entire being, you manage to choke out a "What?" Like it was the first time someone ever told you that they love you.

His torturous thrusts almost distracted you. Fuck, why did it feel so good to have your step brother fucking you on your side like this?

"I love you." He sweetly grabs your face so you can turn your head to look at him. There was a pounding in your ears coming straight from your chest. A warm feeling spreads throughout your stomach.

"You...you love me, nii-san?"

"Of course I do." He was actually smiling at you, "If I didn't, would I be inside you right now?"

His face didn't seem so blank anymore. Sakusa never ever smiled at you. Hell, he never really smiled in general. Someone actually loved you. Holy shit. And he was even pounding away at your insides like you were a fuck doll.

Is that why he's so mean? Was he just trying to hide his feelings for you this whole time? You could die laughing right now. His cock felt so damn good rearranging your guts against your will yet you were struggling to accept it.

Your cheeks naturally puffed up in happiness as you smiled so brightly at him. The flip switched in your brain so easily. Without another word, Sakusa kissed you passionately, because he knew you would let him continue to ravage your body. Your hips began to buck from the pressure building up in your lower half and you starting pushing your hips towards him, welcoming his length inside you. It felt like you needed more of him. More of his love.

Love me.

"Nii-san," you gasped against his lips. His movements never faltered, which you figured was from his amazing athletic ability and stamina.

"Be a good little sister and cum on my cock," he coaxed. He could tell you were so close to cumming from how tightly your precious cunt was hugging his length and how you were squirming against him. You were both slick with sweat. As you started squirming more violently against him, Sakusa tightened his grip on you.

“I’m gonna cum,” you whined desperately, “Nii-san, I’m gonna cum!” You grabbed his arms and pushed your fingernails into his skin, making him hiss from the sudden pain. With a firm grip over your mouth, he muffles your screams. Satisfaction settled in your stomach as you exploded all over his cock. Your sweet juices trailed down your thighs onto the bedsheets.

As much as Sakusa wanted to, he couldn’t fill up your insides and see your hole dripping with his cum just yet. He quickly pulls out of you and lets his seed shoot onto the bare skin of your ass. The shock of your orgasm left your thighs trembling, your skin wet, and your eyes drooping.

“You’re the best little sister.”

You would’ve replied, but you could barely form any words as you lost consciousness again. When you woke up the next morning, you were fully dressed and cleaned up, with no stickiness between your thighs like how you used to wake up.

Sakusa actually cleaned you up this time. You felt your heart melt and butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

Everything seemed to go back to normal between you two, with the same small talks and not really seeing each other often, but he always had a knowing smirk on his face whenever he saw you.

Whenever his eyes would trail up your body to meet yours, you could feel a warmth in your stomach spread all throughout your body which forced you to look away quickly. Whenever he insulted you, you would feel your thighs press together. Whenever you caught yourself admiring his features when he replaced his face mask for a new one, you smiled softly to yourself.

When it was time for him to leave, you couldn’t help but let a few tears shed. He was all set to go, with his backpack on and his mask covering his face.

“Hey, don’t cry, (Y/N),” he cooed, wiping your tears away, “You know I won’t be gone forever.”

You sniffled, “I know. I just hate being here alone.” Well, not necessarily alone. You just hated being ignored and neglected just because you weren’t your brother.

“If you manage to get into my college, you can move in with me. How does that sound?” You instantly perk up and dry your tears with your shirt.

"Really?!” you asked with excitement. You imagine all the things you could do with your nii-san without your parents in the picture. You could go out together, hold hands, share kisses, just about anything. He could even fuck you whenever he wants.

These thoughts about your own step brother would've made you feel sick before.

But that was before you knew Sakusa loved you. Now, you couldn't help but ask your mom when the next time your nii-san would be coming to visit. While you were waiting for his next visit, you studied hard.

College would be so much fun with your nii-san with you!

Part 2

[dodo-begone]

Fear for my Lover

Pairing: DSMP!Quackity x Reader

Word count: 2.9k

Warning: Blood, stitches, bruises, injuries, cursing, frontier first aid (sorry if i missed something)

Summary: Life had been busy lately. Very busy. The night was peaceful and you were more than happy to take advantage of the quiet. Even with Quackity there with you. Fate had other plans though and absolutely ruined what would've been an amazing night.

A/n: i,,, this was meant to be SHORT but also- haha i got 2-3 more parts planned brrrrrr. Also used a dialogue prompt thingy for this- you'll see them in there. They're highlighted.

You thought nothing of it when Quackity said that he was going out. Beforehand he told you that he might have to stay late to do some work. You weren’t sure if he had finished or not, but his departure only confirmed the thought that no, he had not finished business.

With a sigh, you walk over to the couch and flop onto it. The exhaustion from the many months of constant work was catching up. You missed how life was before. Even when you were stuck under Schlatt’s rule on Manberg. Yes, it was quite tedious and annoying, but you weren’t completely rebuilding a nation from the ground up along with its citizens.

The physical work of building was tiresome, but something relaxation and a few nights of rest could easily reverse the effects. Though the mental strain was a completely different story. All of the paperwork was tedious and could keep you up at night just because you need to get one more paper done before dawn. Or just knowing that you aren’t able to help everyone in the new L’manberg. So many had given up hope, were tired of the vicious cycle that they had been caught in. It may not have been going on long, but it still had its effect on everyone all the same.

So much work and so little recreational time. There was little time to care for oneself with so much work on their plate. Let alone spend time with your loved ones. Even if they lived in the same house as you. It felt alienating when you weren’t able to even have a small conversation with your significant other.

Your thoughts were deafeningly loud. Sometimes even covering each other when they brought up memories of anxieties of the past and future. That’s why it was rather surprising when the entire L’manberg cabinet ran through your front door in a frenzy. Jumping off of the couch, you try to survey the situation. What in Pime’s name could be going on?

Their hysterical cacophony of voices were all that reached your ears. You didn’t even need to hear their words when you saw Quackity’s limp body in Fundy’s arms.

Without a second thought, you push your way over to Fundy and Quackity, quickly searching him for injuries. Well, the injuries part was pretty obvious with all of the blood. But the extent of the injuries were another story. What could be going on? How bad was it? Oh Prime, why was there so much blood?

In the frenzy you must’ve said something because something happened. One moment you are near the entrance with your beloved in the arms of his co-worker and the next you’re tending to his wounds in your shared bed. Nobody else was in the room. It was just you and Quackity. Your Quackity. And a bowl of water and a small stack of wash clothes and towels.

Your hands quacked from both worry and the sobs you were desperately holding back. Something was stabbing the interior of your throat as it closed from the overwhelming emotions that filled your body.

What terrified you was that Quackity wasn’t completely unconscious. He definitely wasn’t completely there but he was still awake and babbling. More muttering because of how frail and faint his voice was, but it was still a bunch of nonsense. How you wished to know what he was saying, what he was thinking. Now wasn’t the time, but you feared that if you didn’t know now that he’d never tell you. Shit hit the fan and he came back like this. Either his pride or his desire to “protect” you would keep him from spilling the tea. This was your only chance.

All you were able to do was open your mouth before Quackity was making this harder. He was extremely weak from the blood loss and you were in a race against time to stop the river of blood that just seemed to flow freely from his wounds. You had been holding his bigger wounds tightly, trying to put as much pressure as you could to slow the blood loss or stop it completely. Each attempt to settle Quackity only leads to him resisting more, weakly fighting you to get up. Soon his behavior had gone on for too long, in your humble opinion, and he was still as stubborn as he was in the beginning.

With what little common sense you had left in your nearly hysterical state, you tried to reason with him. “Quackity,” you pleaded, still trying to gently push him back onto the bed so he was laying. “Please lay down, Duckie. It’s for your own good. Just let me bandage you up and I’ll leave you alone. Okay?”

From an outsider’s perspective, the attempt was silly. It really wouldn’t have gotten much of a reaction from your confused lover. And yet you still tried anyway, hoping that anything would help at this point. You were desperate.

His silence spoke volumes. In some stroke of luck, Quackity heard your words. That or he became too tired to fight and “speak”. Either way, you were taking what you could get. It was a victory and your goal was reached. Without much, if any fight at all, you managed to get Quackity back into bed and went back to patching up his wounds.

They were much worse than you hoped. Your wish that it was a smaller wound with a ton of blood oozing out was swiftly dashed when you started to clean up the blood from its source. Well, more accurately from anywhere and cleaning until you found the source. Although a bad idea, you had patched up his smaller, easy to access wounds. Though you couldn’t dodge the challenge that stood before you, glaring at you from Quackity’s face.

Petechiae, scratches, and bruises also decorated his face in a hideous manner. The centerpiece of it all was a large scar that traveled from his lip to his eye, all on the left side, was the most obvious wound. The others could heal on their own, but that cut, could you even call it a cut, was in dire need of assistance. It was probably already infected and trying to heal itself. But it was too big, too wide to heal naturally. Intervention was needed and it was needed stat!

Blankly you stare at his face, mind running a mile a minute trying to think of remedies and solutions. Sadly there weren’t many options available. Ponk was too far away to call for his medical expertise, not even considering how late it was. Would he even still be awake? Let alone awake enough to do stitches? You could wait till morning but who knows what condition Quackity would be in at dawn. Something had to be done and it had to be done now. Only one plausible solution remained and it definitely wasn’t pleasant.

Swiftly you leave Quackity, moving out of the room as quickly as you could. Quackity tried to reach out to you but just missed your sleeve. Though you didn’t notice or know. You had things to get done and to get them done you needed equipment. Desperately you search around the house, pulling out anything you’d need. More clean towels, a bowl of clean water since the one you had been using was more than dirtied and the towels absolutely soiled. Placing them half-hazardly on a flat surface, you scurried around to find the other necessary equipment. After having to catch your sewing tin and lighter from falling a few times, you grab everything you previously gathered and make your treacherous journey back to Quackity.

When you return, he’s once again sitting up in bed. Weakly, mind you, as he fell back onto the mattress at the sight of you. You wished to scold him for going against what you asked of him, but it didn’t matter now. With no time to waste, you dump your supplies onto the nightstand and fumble around, trying to get everything prepared.

As nimbly as your shaky hands could spare, you set up your thread and needle as if you were going to start sewing a gorgeous design into a quilt. You stared at the bowl of water you had, debating whether or not to use your sad little lighter to heat up that big ole bowl… it’s better if you didn’t. Other than being faster, how much better would it be for sanitizing the needle? It’d take ages to get the water boiling and even then it might not be enough. A flame straight out of a lighter? Seemed better. It got the job done quicker and would be warmer than the boiling water so it was going to kill more bacteria and germ than the boiling water. That’s what you hoped, at least. This is why you aren’t a medic.

Shakily, you ignite the lighter and hold the needle to the flame, slowly rotating it to equally distribute the heat. As tedious and anxiety inducing as it was, it would be worth it in the end. The stitch is only temporary until you can get Ponk to come over, hopefully by early tomorrow. Or later today? What time even was it- Snap out of it! This isn’t the time to be doing this!

You didn’t know how hot the needle had to be to be considered “sanitized” but you had waited long enough. At least that’s what it felt like. Plus the part of the needle you’re holding is getting pretty hot.

When you go in for the first suture, the hiss of pain before you even punctured the skin was a good indicator to you. Not that he was awake enough to still be actively feeling things, but to be able to vocally express his pain and that the needle was hot enough to probably kill most bacteria and germs if it hurt to touch. Hesitation is making you its bitch, holding you still and making you contemplate if what you’re doing is right. Of course what you’re doing is right. It has to be. It’s one of the best and only options you have.

Before you did anything else, you grabbed one of the towels and rolled it up. Gently you pried his mouth open and placed it in like a gag. He wasn’t going to be able to grip much and he’d be grinding his teeth together from pain. Previous experience with stitches and similar frontier medical procedures has taught you one thing; having a gag to bite on helps every part. The patient gets a way to release their pain and the “doctor” is less likely to be hurt by the patient since the patient will have something else to focus on hurting. It doesn’t work entirely but it’s better than hearing the unmuffled screams of agony and feels better to have something to grip onto as hard as you can.

After getting him situated, you position yourself again. With a deep breath, you start off the first suture. Quackity’s muffled scream was heartbreaking yet shocking. Even with you expecting it, it still spooked you a bit. But everything was okay. This was for the best. And then you continued on. Slowly you added stitch after stitch after stitch until you thought you did enough. Really it was a combination of “this is adequate” and “i’m too anxious to keep going because what if i mess up”. Without anesthetics, it was just horrific for both parties to go through with this endeavor. He was moving around so much, trying to twist and turn away from the pain being done to him. His movements were so often and large enough to make you nervous about going near his eyes. What if you poked it out? Or made him blind?

Looking back at the stitches and what they held together, it was obvious that his eyesight was going to be impaired from now on. His eyes were looking completely different from each other now. The regular on the right and the horrific product of whatever he did on his left. A white film covered his eyes like a snow blanket. He was now blind in that eye or going blind.

Realistically, he was going blind but you still held out for the unrealistic hope that he’d be almost entirely okay afterwards. You knew it was unrealistic, but you still hoped.

You Quackity didn’t deserve this.

Once you have cleaned up the mess you made, you start to pack everything up. Needle in the bowl to be cleaned, remaining threat back into the tin, bowls moved away from where they’d get bumped and dumped. Slowly and methodically you finish your tasks. The adrenaline of the night is slowly leaving your body and exhaustion is once again taking hold of you. Oh how you hated that. Absolutely despised the feeling.

After everything was to your liking, you go to check on Quackity again before you leave to give and get some silent rest for the two of you. It’s the least you could do for him after all of this.

He seemed comfortable after everything, peaceful in fact. It was such a calming sight and it eased your guilt of hurting him. Everything you did was for the greater good, you mentally remind yourself. It was to help prevent further infection and it was only temporary. Until you could get proper help for him.

Without much thought, you sit by the bed and lay your head upon it. So much blood got onto the blankets and the sheets. You’d need to clean that quickly. After Quackity gets help and is moved or can be moved, that is. Which would hopefully be tomorrow. Slowly you start to doze off. Or was it zoning out? Either or you were slowly calming down further. To the point where you almost fell asleep.

Jolting awake, you begrudgingly haul yourself off the floor and start your long and tiring journey to the living room. The couch was comfier than the floor, after all. No matter how much you wanted to sleep by Quackity.

Your dawdling is stopped by something on your sleeve. At first you think your sleeve got caught on something so you tug in hopes of being untangled from said object. Nothing happens so you just tug harder. But still nothing happens. Eventually your little tug of war becomes too annoying and has been prolonged enough. You whirl around to see what in Prime’s name you could be caught on.

Low and behold it was the man of the hour, surprisingly. Quackity had grabbed onto your sleeve and just held you there. Confused, you walk back to the bed and sit, holding his face and inspecting for any new signs of pain. Anything that would show that he was feeling something different, something worse. You hoped that he wasn’t feeling like that, but it was a naive hope. Wounds were not an unfamiliar concept to you and yet you’d always hope for such fantastical things to the point where it was odd.

In return for you holding his face, he went to gently hold yours. A soft smile makes an appearance upon your face after the action.

“How’re you feeling, Ducking,” you whisper. Silence once again makes its presence known and it’s very loud and obnoxious about it. “Sorry. I know you’re in a lot of pain. That was stupid of me to ask.”

Quackity chuckles at your slip up and you’re more than happy to join him. Slowly your chuckling drowned out by the silence that had obnoxiously told you how wrong you were to ask your beloved if he was in pain when it was more than obvious that he was, indeed, in pain. You take a deep breath and release a sigh.

“You need to sleep. It’ll help with the healing and hopefully with the pain until tomorrow. I plan on calling Ponk to do some actual doctor shit on you because Prime knows how amazing my skills are.” Once again you attempt to leave Quackity to sleep, but stopped by his grip on your sleeve.

“Please,” he rasped. God his voice was so hoarse after everything. You felt terrible as you were part of the cause and yet you couldn’t do anything nor bring yourself to feel too bad. It was all for the greater good, after all. For his health.

“Please what?”

“Please stay with me,” he begged, looking straight into your eyes with his only working one. The sight was pitiful. Such a prideful man who could do so much left in such a weakened state. You hated seeing him like this. Nobody liked seeing their loved ones in a position like that. And how could you deny him that request, especially with what he went through tonight. You still didn’t know what it was but the aftermath was horrific enough to give a small clue as to what happened.

“Of course,” you reply, smiling warmly and climbing into bed with him. The moment you’re under the blankets and sheets, he gently pulls you into a hug. For his or your sake, you’re unsure. You hope that it’s his though. “Anything for my Duckie.”

[caesthetix]

SAY A LITTLE PRAYER — Pt. 2 Devoted Worshipper

↪Eren Yeager mini-series

↪content; major character death, canon universe, heavy angst, established relationship, spoiler for season 4

You hummed softly as your feet dragged you towards the Commander's office. The hallway was quiet, yellow hue from the candles illuminated your pathway. Some of the rooms were occupied, you knew from the laughter that could be heard here and there. Soldiers cheering and sharing drinks without any weight on their shoulders.

And it made you feel a little bit melancholic as you thought about it.

When you dragged your friends to lounge around together, you wanted to feel the same warmth and comfort that was usually there when everyone huddled together. Even though you knew that it would never be the same anymore with one of you being taken on the battlefield, you still hoped that they would have each other to rely on.

Yet the atmosphere was tense. Sometimes overlapping the sorrow that coated their hearts. Maybe that was the coping mechanism, to forget about the pain, they all used anger, trying to point their finger to where it all went wrong, searching for the root of this havoc.

You knew that Sasha's death hit Connie harder than anyone. Yes, everyone had their individual bonds with the gluttonous woman, but there was something that differentiated his relationship with her. There were only two kinds of bonds that could emit such emotional turmoil; twins, and romantic love.

And they were like family, no, twins — and to lose a part of your soul would make anyone else gone mad.

Letting out a sigh, you tried to focus on your breathing. The door that led to Hange's office was within your eyesight already, you had your own job right now, your own mission. And that was to meet with your lover who, right now, people wouldn't dare to spend some time alone with him.

You remembered the day it all changed, where the most expressive person you ever knew suddenly closed his heart from the world. It was just a simple touch, lips grazing the back of her hand, and suddenly, the look on his face that day was the last fiery emotion which you ever saw coming from him.

He was distant, no, detached. It was as if he had his own world, as if he knew something that no one else could ever understand. You tried to ask him, to share whatever inside his mind, to share his burden. But every time you asked, he would just stare at you, with emerald eyes filled with one emotion that you could never understand.

It was not love, not some affection. There was no sadness indeed, no tears glistening in those beautiful orbs. He just looked at you with something that you could not fathom. Though, amidst all the cold shoulder that you got from him, you were still standing right by his side.

Like a devoted worshipper, following him to anywhere he goes, without even questioning where and why.

You were Eren's shield, some even said more faithful than Mikasa herself. There was no doubt in your eyes, whatever happened, no matter how many innocent souls were now in his hands, there wasn't a single time you ever asked the universe why he did all of that. Not even for a second, you didn't need a reason to believe him.

Everyone always questioned your feelings for said titan shifter since the beginning, when all of you were just wannabe soldiers in the training corps. There was no way you saw him as only a friend with how you always had this smile on your face when his name was mentioned.

Then one day when they saw his lips lingering on your forehead before they were all dispersed to defend Trost, they knew you would bind yourself to that man.

And they were right.

It was no secret already that you might be the most neutral in between all of them, but they knew who had you crawling to at the end of the day. Eren Yeager, no one else but him. He was your ultimate reason, the love of your life, the man who owned all of your heart; you didn't leave anything for yourself.

But you didn't even care about that, knowing your heart was placed on the right man.

"(Y/n)?"

You jolted when you saw the door opened, gaze trailed up to find your Commander staring at you with questioned eyes. Lost in your thoughts, you did not realise that you had been standing in front of Hange's office for perhaps a few minutes now.

"Commander Hange!" A perfect salute coming from you, making them chuckle at how enthusiastic you acted even in this darkest hour. You could see the bag under their eyes, brown locks dishevelled as some of the strands were all over the place. This fact alone made you frown. "You should get some rest, Hange."

Your voice changed completely, there was no smile etched on your face, and they knew how serious you were as you blurted out the words. "I mean it, as a friend."

They bit their lips, eyes closing shut as they tried to control the storm in their head. After a few seconds, they moved away slightly from the door to give you space, hands retracted to the side as they told you to come in, stopping whatever they were supposed to do right now.

Your lips curled into a small smile as you knew that Hange would take your advice. Even though it was just temporary, perhaps a little rest was better than nothing at all.

Nodding your head, you walked inside the office and stopped not too far from the door. Waiting for their instruction to where to sit, your gaze fleeting around the space that was more modern than their old office in the previous Headquarters.

It used to be so dim, only one light illuminating the whole room. You remembered how many times you stumbled over the items that were cluttering around the lab that they forgot to pick up. Now the lights were clearer, positioned on each side of the wall, resulting in all the corners shining with the yellow hue.

Of course, there was a massive bookshelf near the desk, not even one book was missing, everything was filled as you took it as a sign that the commander had been working on papers nonstop, not once loosening up to enjoy the victory over the attack on Marley.

"You could sit on the couch, or the chair, it's up to you, really."

Hange's voice sounded calmer now as they closed the door and walked back behind their desk before they plopped themselves on the big cushioned chair. You followed the gesture and sat across from them, deciding that it was better to be eye to eye if you were going to talk with them later on.

Their fingers running down their messy strands before pulling the hair tie to free it from the upcoming headache that already threatened to come. "Damn it, I am so tired."

That made you chuckle.

"I understand, Hange. And it's alright to feel tired, you are human after all." Not a normal human like the rest of the world, but the needs and stamina were still the same, whether you were an Eldian or people outside Paradis. The brunette smiled a little at your words and stood up to prepare a drink, grabbing two porcelain cups as they poured two teaspoons of dark powder on each cup.

"I take it you are okay with coffee, am I wrong?" They smirked a little as they turned to see you with a smile beamed on your face. "Awh, you are welcome, my dear~"

"Oh, Hange, you know how much I love that drink."

It didn't take long for them to prepare the drink. They had this big bottle that could hold hot water to stay boiled after a few hours. God, you thanked Niccolo for introducing that item to all of you. Speaking of the blonde man, you frowned a little as you wondered if he received the news about Sasha's death.

You wanted to go and deliver the information itself, but you knew with your condition right now that everyone would want you to rest until you get better. Connie, Niccolo, Sasha's family, you couldn't imagine the pain that they felt to lose someone that you loved so much with all of your heart.

And you couldn't help but think how much it would hurt if Eren was gone from this world.

"Here you go, (Y/n)," Hange spoke softly as they pushed the coffee cup in your line of vision. "Careful, it's still hot." They came at the right time, you didn't even realise the sweat on your forehead started to form due to the panic inside your head. You really did not want to think about that, it was too much.

You retrieved the coffee gently before settling it on your lap, palms feeling the warmth from the hot liquid as you rest one of your hands at the side of the cup. The air was cold, and for you, the porcelain worked wonders to make it to be touchable enough.

The two of you were engulfed by comfortable silence. Your nose crinkled softly when the scent of the coffee lingered in the room. Ah, coffee, that magical drink from Marley. You cursed a little at your ancestor when you first tasted the new beverage, saying how it's not fair that it took you a dozen years to know such a thing.

"You can drink it anytime you want now."

Eren smiled softly at your reaction and whispered that to you after a few seconds of watching your reaction. You didn't know what was inside his mind at that time, but his words were enough to make your heart flutter.

It was rare for him to show any interest or excitement, so you cherished all the fragments of his old self and carved it deep inside your mind. You loved the smell of coffee, because it reminded you of the world outside the wall, and it reminded you of a promise that once made.

Eren would lead you to your freedom, not with you as a follower, but with you to walk alongside him as he retrieved the rights that were taken away from all humans in Paradis.

Yes, Eren, the reminiscent was enough to snap you back. You were here for a reason, and that was to meet him, to spend time with him. No. You were there to dig some information from your lover's mind. It was for the sake of your friends, to make them feel better and feel more at peace rather than just standing in the dark.

After all, you didn't need to know his reason. You were satisfied enough to fight and walk alongside him.

Right?

"Now, what is it that you wanted to ask me?"

You jolted when you heard Hange throw the question as if you were just having a conversation about the weather, making the cup in front of your lips falter a little as you looked at them with shock. Catching you off guard like that was amusing to them. "What? You don't think I couldn't read you like an open book?"

Hange was harmless, at least to you. They said that not because they wanted to intimidate you, but more into wanting to prove to themselves how much they knew you. Everything was shown in their face, from the glint in their eyes to a snicker that slipped from their lips.

You let out a sigh before slipping down the cup of coffee back to your lap. They waited, understanding that you were slightly embarrassed with how much they could read you. Maybe you forgot, but they were the ones who asked Erwin to make you a part of their squad.

There was no one else that could tolerate Eren Yeager without him tolerating them enough. Eren actually listened to you, thoughtful of your decision and thinking about all of your scolds. Eren didn't listen to anyone, not even the Commander sometimes. If he didn't want to listen then he wouldn't.

But you were the only creature that, whatever you said, he would always take consideration of.

Starting from that benefit, Hange was now attached to you. They adored your strong will, how you would put your life over anyone (especially Eren) but yet still had a clear mind over it. You were fast, not as powerful as Mikasa, but you could think straight and strategize.

And they were hooked, they were proud to be the superior who knew you. Not even the Commander could understand the way you were thinking sometimes, but it was his loss anyway. Since he saw you as an asset for Eren instead of seeing you as a sole soldier who stood for herself.

"I need to speak with Eren." You were not done yet. "Alone."

The room was silent once again as they mulled over your words. They were sure it was not a request, but more as a demand. They chuckled internally to see you like this, intimidating, trying to get to your goal with a simple command.

"And what makes you think that I would let you?" They didn't want to prolong this, but they needed to know further why you wanted to see him. Truthfully, Hange was going to go to check on Eren before. But you came and told them to rest, funny how now you were the one who asked to talk to him.

They were afraid for you, that man was not the same as he was a few years ago. Everything changed after they reclaimed Shiganshina. And to let you talk with him without no one else guarding you, that tasted like a recipe for disaster.

"You would let me." Ha, cocky as ever when the time needed. "You know I could take down a lot of men and titan single-handedly, you know Eren would never lay a finger on me with the purpose to hurt me." Your voice was loud and clear, completely turning you into a soldier. "There is no downside to it. And if you think I would let him escape, you should know that I could do it anytime I want."

You had a point, that was what they knew. There was no malicious intent on your voice, just a need to talk to an old friend, to your lover. Even if you were sitting there in front of them with a serious facade, desperation was shown inside your eyes with how much you longed to have some alone time with the man.

They put down the cup of coffee on their table, sighing as they thought about what was the right thing. It was their call after all. You were someone who would do anything for Eren, but at the same time, you were a soldier, a good one that always followed the rules.

But to what extent would you stay to be a good soldier? If one day a condition caused the Survey Corps to be on the opposite side from Eren, where would you stand?

No, you were loyal — to either the Survey Corps or Eren. At least right now it was like that, and they just had to believe you in this.

"Alright." Your lips twitched at their answer, you must be so excited, and that made them softened a little. "You can just take down this soldier's side of yours, (Y/n). Just be a friend now, I hear your request loud and clear."

You nodded a little, still having your stoic, serious expression on your face. It wouldn't be long though, they were sure of that. One, two, three—

"Oh, Hange!" You wailed, setting the cup on the wooden table before you stood up and walked behind the desk, wanting to embrace them. "You don't know how much I miss him, I wanted to tackle him and just wrap my hands around him in the airship before."

The brunette chuckled when you finally fell to their chest, hugging them so tightly as you were clutching their uniform. "It's been months, Hange, thank you. Thank you so much."

"Oh, dear." They awkwardly patted your back, chuckling at your reaction. "I know, you are craving for him, I know." Everyone could see it, your love for Eren was something that couldn't be hidden from the world. Even Yelena and the others knew from one look at you.

You stayed there for a few seconds, calming yourself down from the enthusiasm that was bubbling up. You didn't want to scare off your lover with your sudden embrace or nonstop kisses. So you had to compose yourself by pouring some of the affection to someone that you trusted was enough.

"I mean it, thank you, Hange." You pulled away, though still had your hands on their arms as you squeezed it gently. The way you looked at them was so ethereal, comforting, and shone with what they believed as love. "Can I go now, then?"

"Yes, of course."

Hange gave you one last smile before pulling themselves away from you too. "I actually just pulled something that wouldn't be approved by Zackly. So, is half an hour enough for you?" They actually did not want to give you a time limit, but it would be bad if someone else found you in the cell with a criminal.

"Ah, of course." They let out a sigh of relief when they heard your answer. "I understand, Hange. As much as I love to spend time with Eren, I know that this meeting alone could jeopardize your position." Goodness, always so understanding, Eren sure is lucky.

"Alright, here." A dangling sound filled the room as they fetched the keys from their pocket. Your eyes widened at the sight of the silver metal, palms up as they dropped the key on your hands. "Make sure you didn't forget to lock—"

"Y-You'll let me go inside?" If you looked so delighted before, now you looked like you could burst as you tried to process the meaning behind the given keys.

One solid nod from the commander, and that's all it took for your tears to slip down your cheek.

You took a few steps back before giving them a salute, one that they answered back because of how much respect they had for you too. It had been years since they knew you, and it made them tear up a little with how much you had grown, yet still the same naive girl they saw that day in the training corps.

As you walked away to the door, they looked at you with fondness in their eyes. The brunette saw you as a close friend, like a sister they never had.

It was their call, they knew this was the best. For you to meet the love that you longed for, you deserved to feel such comfort in this hellish world. And to know that they could make you feel this happy, they felt like the best sibling in the world for giving such joy in your life.

Even when they heard a click from the door, a sign that you were on your way down the cell, their smiles never faltered. Shaking their head softly at the puppy love that showed as you bounced around with giddiness, they immersed themselves on the papers once again.

Little did they know that this decision would haunt them until they took their last breath.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ༶•┈┈⛧┈〄┈⛧┈┈•༶ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

"This is tiresome."

Hange yawned and stretched their limbs as they tossed down the last report that they had to finish. They really needed to take your advice and get more rest. Ah, you, now they just realised how much time had passed after the last time they saw you from before.

Their eyes fleeting to the clock on the wall, raising one of their eyebrows when they realised it was already forty-five minutes since you left.

I need to check on her, they thought. Even if they believed that you would not let anyone harm you in any way, they still needed to get you to rest. After all, you were still wounded, and they didn't want one of their best soldiers to tire herself more.

Stretching their limbs to the side, cracking their neck and hearing the pop here and there, now they were satisfied. Standing up to embark on their little journey, their eyes flickered to the empty cup of coffee that belonged to you. It was so clean, you even drank the harsh powder that lingered at the bottom.

You did really love coffee, they couldn't help but wanted to surprise you that they had a new type from Yelena tomorrow morning. Hange could imagine you screaming already and drinking a lot with them. A little piece of heaven indeed, talking with a friend without thinking of their burden, maybe it was enough for them right now.

Chuckling softly, the brunette locked the door to their office before strolling down the empty hallway, wanting to have a chat with you before closing the day.

It was late at night, the rest of the scouts were mostly asleep or drinking their hearts out, celebrating the first win of the Island of Paradis. Thinking about war made their shoulders slump, they were already tired and just wanted everything to end. But they just had to suck it up, holding onto the hope that it would end soon.

There was no one else in sight as they walked, the one who accompanied them was just the yellow flame and their own mind. Now they wondered what kind of talk that you had with your lover. Even if Eren was now just an emotionless human being, they thought that he would still be the same around you. Still as loving, even though more careful with the amount of affection that he gave.

Everyone who had eyes could see how devoted you were to the man, no matter how many times he was always preoccupied with himself, falling deep into his own spiraling mind, no more acknowledging your existence who was always by his side.

Armin and Jean would often call you up to join the rest of them to town or just to have fun. But you always stayed seated, resting your head on his shoulder as you try to give comfort to the man that you gave your heart to. Typical you, prioritizing his needs over your own.

The air changed all of a sudden as their feet finally reached the first rung that would lead them to the basement. It was so humid, and they really think you were such a saint by staying here for almost an hour without complaining.

Love really made people do something crazy, to the extent that their own comfort did not matter.

There was no sound of arguing that could be heard, which was good. It was so silent, and somehow they wanted to just turn back around. Inside their mind, they could see you curled up on the hard bed with Eren's arms draped around your figure.

Just by thinking of that, they couldn't hide the smile that emerged on their face at this point. What a youth, filled with love and comfort, something that not everyone could find inside a life of a soldier. Yet there you were, making the love that you had to be a reason to stay strong, to keep on living.

Hange made a decision, that if you were indeed safe and sound on your lover's embrace, then they would let you two be.

But when their feet stopped right in front of the cell, their light brown pupils dilated in horror.

The air was humid, suffocating, and their chest felt so constricted within these walls. They were not even inside, yet by just standing there right now, they couldn't help but want to puke.

Inside, they could see how Eren faced the mirror on the wall, his hands gripping tight to the silver sink that filled with water. There was nothing that could be emitted from his expression, not even a single emotion could be seen inside his emerald eyes that was always praised by you.

And as their gaze finally dared to look at the shadow in their peripheral vision, they could feel their heart stop.

In the back of the room, your body slumped on the dirty wall — idle, lifeless. Hange gasped, hands stumbled as they opened the cell and rushed to your side. Their fingers immediately went to your bruised neck to check on your pulse on instinct.

And nothing.

They found nothing.

Not even a beat.

"Eren, what did you do?" Their eyes never left your figure, gaze fleeting toward your orbs that were now empty. They choked, swallowing a huge lump before resting their ear on your torso, hoping that they could hear your heartbeat. But they were met with the same void. "Eren, what did you do?!"

Hange bit their lips, fetching the keys in your palm, they carefully hoisting your body as they managed to not cry, but they couldn't hold their sob as they realised they lost yet another good soldier, a good friend. If Eren could not give them an answer, they were the ones who were going to find it.

If only, God, if only they didn't let you meet up with Eren.

You would probably go back to your friends, easing their pain with your comforting words. You would wake up tomorrow morning and walk to their office, sharing a cup of coffee together before they gave you a briefing for what the scouts would do for the whole day.

But it was not possible, it was no longer possible. They should have known it.

No, they refused to give up now. Gritting their teeth, they still didn't want to believe that you were gone for real. They didn't care anymore if they were out of their mind, their free hand immediately closed and locked the cell harshly, needing to see the doctor, a paramedic that was around. Holding on to a hopeless dream that maybe you could be saved.

What could they say to your friends? That you died because of how they let you meet a deadly criminal, the same person that also had your heart on his palms? Hange was not sure that the man was the one who was responsible for your death, but there was no one else around.

And those bruises, red hue smearing your neck like a vice-grip.

They shook their head, not wanting to think about it for now as they tried to lift you up. They needed to get you upstairs, calling out the paramedic that was probably sleeping right now, needing them to save you.

When their feet made contact with the first stairs, they could hear a mutter from the cell which belonged to your lover. It was only a few words, and yet with how low his voice was, lingered with nothing but a glimpse of despair — it sent a shiver down their spine.

"I gave her freedom."

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[nestasgalpal]

Your precious High Lord [Nessian fic]

Masterlist | AO3

Sinopsis: So this is a fix-it fic where I give my version of the scene where Nesta calls Rhysand an asshole and Cassian defends him and tells Nesta that everyone hates her 🤡🤡 The idea is to just fix the scene, so everything else (aka Cassian telling her that and Nesta leaving the room etc) stil happens. I just want Nesta to verbalize why she doesn’t like Rhysand, since nobody seems to understand her reasons.

Tagging: @gwynriel @rhaenystargaryn @clolikescloquetas @amelievrstr  @t8astr8ng @wanderlustlastsforever @saltydreamcollector @lordlorcan​ @esrahiba @queenestarcheron @ko0mbayamylord @poisonous-bloom  @jemstan300 

I might fix the Amren confrontation scene too, so let me know if you want to be removed or added to the tag list ^^

Azriel was having lunch with them, giving Cassian the details for the mission he was going into. Nesta maintained her silence as she slid into her chair, picked up her fork, and dug into the fillet of beef and roasted asparagus.

Cassian cleared his throat and said to Azriel, “How long will you be gone?”

“I’m not sure.” The shadowsinger’s eyes bore into her before he added, “Vassa was right to suspect something deadly amiss. Things are dangerous enough over there that it would be wiser for me to keep my base here at the House and winnow back and forth.”

Curiosity bit deep, but Nesta said nothing. Vassa—she hadn’t seen the enchanted human queen since the war had ended. Since the young woman had tried to speak to her about how wonderful Nesta’s father had been, how he had been a true father to her, helped her and won her this temporary freedom, and on and on until Nesta’s bones were screaming to get away, her blood boiling to think that her father had found his courage for someone other than her and her sisters. That he’d been the father she had needed—but for someone else. He had let their mother die in his refusal to send his merchant fleet hunting for a cure for her, had fallen into poverty and let them starve, but had decided to fight for this stranger? This nobody queen peddling a sad tale of betrayal and loss?

That thing deep in Nesta stirred, but she ignored it, pushed it down as best she could without the distraction of music or sex or wine. She took a sip of her water, letting it cool her throat, her belly, and supposed that would have to be enough.

“What’d Rhys say about it?” Cassian asked around a mouthful of food. 

“Who do you think insisted I not risk a base over there?”

“Protective bastard.” A note of affection rang in Cassian’s words, though.

Silence fell again. Azriel nodded at her. “What happened to you?”

She knew what he meant: the black eye that was finally fading. Her hands and chin had healed, along with the bruising on her body, but the black eye had turned greenish. By tomorrow morning, it’d be gone entirely. “Nothing,” she said without looking at Cassian.

“She fell down the stairs,” Cassian said, not looking at her, either.

Azriel’s silence was pointed before he asked, “Did someone … push you?” 

“Asshole,” Cassian growled.

Nesta lifted her eyes from her plate enough to note the amusement in Azriel’s gaze, even though no smile graced his sensuous mouth. Cassian went on, “I told her earlier today: if she’d bother to train, she’d at least have bragging rights for the bruises.”

Azriel took a calm sip of his water. “Why aren’t you training, Nesta?”

“I don’t want to.”

“Why not?”

Cassian muttered, “Don’t waste your breath, Az.”

She glared at him. “I’m not training in that miserable village.”

Cassian glared right back. “You’ve been given an order . You know the consequences. If you don’t get off that fucking rock by the end of this week, what happens next is out of my hands.”

“So you’ll tattle to your precious High Lord?” she crooned. “Big, tough warrior needs oh-so-powerful Rhysand to fight his battles?”

“Don’t you fucking talk about Rhys with that tone” Cassian snarled.

“Or what?” Nesta snapped. “Rhys is an asshole. He is an arrogant, preening asshole.”

 Azriel sat back in his seat, eyes simmering with anger, but said nothing.

“That’s bullshit,” Cassian spat, the Siphons on the backs of his hands burning like ruby flames. “You know that is bullshit, Nesta."

“I hate him,” she seethed.

“Good. He hates you, too,” Cassian shot back. “Everyone fucking hates you. Is that what you want? Because congratulations, it’s happened.”

Azriel let out a long, long breath.

Cassian’s words pelted her, one after another. Hit her somewhere low and soft, and hit hard. Her fingers curled into claws, scraping along the table. Rage emerged, boiling in her veins. She tried to contain herself, but after months of drinking herself into oblivion, using alcohol to chain her feelings, her emotions, her nightmares, she was having trouble containing all the thoughts that were coming up her throat now that only water filled her cup. Nesta sensed her own anger rise to match Cassian’s.

“I’m done with you and your problems.” he finished.

The words rumbled between them. Nesta blinked. Azriel tensed, as if surprised.

Cassian aimed for the door, his pounding steps fading down the hall.

Nesta had never in her life tried to use her issues as an excuse. There was not one flaw in her character she didn’t know about. She was terrible to be around, and she was aware of it, but she had never expected people to try to understand where it all came from. On the contrary, she used it against every person that crossed her path, so they couldn’t get to see her aching heart. She wore her issues as an armour, so people never wanted to come closer and see why she was the way she was. Nesta had used her anger against almost every person she knew, but not once had she tried to use the cause of that rage, that infinite void in her chest, as an excuse.

But she was so sick of them, their patronizing, them projecting their own issues into her, that the seal that contained her darkest thoughts broke, and the words came out. Because if after everything she had given to them she still hadn’t made it up to Feyre, then there was absolutely nothing else for her to do. She had nothing left to give.

She wanted them to know what their victory cost her. If Cassian didn’t want to see on his own, she would make him.

“I gave my life for you. For all of you” Cassian halted in the archway of the door. Azriel’s eyes were fixed on her, even if her own stare had followed Cassian. “Even before the war, I tried to make it up to my sister for the four years she hunted for us.” Cassian’s body was almost lost in the shadows coming out of the hallway, but still close enough to the door that she could see his back, his wings, the tension in his muscles under his shirt.

“Your High Lord likes to pretend I’m nothing but a burden, but I’m only what you’ve made of me” When none of the illyrians interrupted her, Nesta felt seen for a moment.

Then, she realized the temperature in the room had dropped, her nails had left marks on the table, and Azriel’s shadows were ready to strike if needed.

Cassian was also still, ready to move.

They were not listening to her, they were waiting for her to attack. Like a wild animal. Like Rhysand in his studio, using his power on her to make her sit.

They expected nothing better from her than that. They expected her to unleash her wrath on them, and that’s what she was going to do. She didn’t care.

“To have any kind of contact with fae is a crime in the Mortal Lands. Did you know that?“

She wanted himto know she was talking about a time prior to their last day in the battlefield, because her sacrifice had not been only physical. No, she was talking about the things she did before, favours to help her sister’s cause. Their cause.

“I did everything you lot asked me to do. I sent the letters putting my neck on the line, and risking Elain’s future. I held the meeting at my house and let you come and go as you pleased.”

“Her future with Greysen would have made her miserable” Azriel’s icy tone surprised her. She merely blinked in his direction. His graceful face was covered in shadows of anger, too.

“That was the future she wanted. The one she chose”.

Azriel fought back “He came from a family of fae hunters”. Nesta wasn’t sure why he had gotten caught up on that detail, but she insisted. Now that she was a fae, she wanted to stay away from people like Greysen, but back then, his family and her money combined offered a safety she had desperately wanted.

“Which we both thought was a good thing. We thought Feyre had been killed by fae. We gave her a funeral” Cassian shuddered, his wings reacting to her words, tucking in a little more.

Nesta felt the cold of the room on her bones.

“I still let you into my house. Have you even considered how scared I was to let you in? Do you have any idea of the stories I grew up with about faeries and their tricks, their bloodthirst? I’ve met people who were taken by your kind… my kind, now, I guess. And I still helped you.” She didn’t tell them Rhysand was the one murdering her friend Clare and her family.

“Those stories are about faes like the ones in Hybern, of wild creatures near the Wall. Not Prythian’s folk” Cassian answered. His tone was dark and low, angry, insulted. But he was not screaming now.

“And how was I supposed to know?” She shouted. How was she supposed to know? His words almost made her doubt, thought. In the middle of her rage, his words almost made her doubt herself, like she might be overreacting, like she had gone crazy, maybe, paranoid. But she didn’t fall for it. She hadn’t been careful enough with them, their promises, their requests. “The only explanation I received when my sister came back after months with a new male in her arm -a male she had warned me about before her departure- was that the mortal realm was about to be destroyed by war, and she needed my help. So I helped her.”

It was not only anger or rage, but pure wrath what tinted her words. She could take the blame for all the things she did wrong -she would. She wanted to. But she was tired of them using her mistakes as an excuse to never acknowledge that fact that she had tried. Nesta had given them everything they had asked from her.

Azriel’s shadows were dangerously still. Nesta wasn’t sure if she had ever seen them like that. Cassian hadn’t moved either.

They were listening now.

”I know Feyre risked her life for us. So for her, I risked mine too. And Elain’s. The difference is that I actually died and became this,” she pointed at her own body, everyday stronger, gaining back the absurd beauty that belonged only to creatures from that side of the Wall. She hated it ”while Feyre found happiness. My sister chose to come back to this awful land full of monsters, I was dragged out of my bed and taken.”

“Nesta-” The shadowsinger didn’t move, but his tone had a cautious note to it. She knew her eyes were now quicksilver, flames dancing in them. She had seen herself in the mirror when that happened. She would be cautious too.

Nesta didn’t let Azriel finish. She wanted Cassian to hear the rest. Cassian, who had promised her a future and then vanished. Cassian, who would still defend his High Lord even when he physically threatened her. Nesta wanted him to hear her words until the end.

She wanted him to be as hurt as she was.

Something tucked in her stomach, warning her that both of them would regret it later if she went on, but her blood was boiling, so she did it anyway.

“Your High Lord of friend or brother or whatever he is to you, promised we would be guarded.”

Nesta let the words resonate. She didn’t need to remind any of them what had happened next. They knew. They had suffered from Hybern too that night.

She wanted them to remember. It wasn’t fair that they got to live their happy ever after, but she had to be consumed by it and left alone because she didn’t warm up the room with a smile like Elain did. It wasn’t fair that after everything she went through so they could live this perfect life, they still got to lock her up in a tower and make her the villain.

Nesta didn’t need to look into Cassian’s eyes to know he was remembering the same moment she went over and over in her nightmares every night. The moment she was dragged into the Cauldron. His body in the ground, covered in blood. His shredded wings. Her screams echoing in the hall.

“So the next time I call him an asshole -and I promise it will happen again- don’t you dare using that tone with me.”

There was a long silence. Silver fire remained in her eyes, but Cassian didn’t turn to meet her gaze. He only said “I won’t”, and stalked out.

Alone with Azriel, Nesta bared her teeth at him.

Azriel watched her with that cool quiet, keeping utterly still. Like he saw everything in her head. Her bruised heart.

She couldn’t bear it. So she stood, only two bites taken from her food, and left the room as well.

She returned to the library. The lights blazed as brightly as they had during the day, and a few lingering priestesses wandered the levels. She found her cart, filled again with books needing to be shelved.

No one spoke to her, and she spoke to no one as she began to work, with only the roaring silence in her head for company.

[angloie]

Rivals. Nothing more. (1/2)

> Percy is annoyed on how Annabeth always was. Her passion to win, to suceed, to be better than him. He hates that. It's totally not hot, or whatever.

> Warnings: swearing and kinda (?) suggestive undertones, my writing

> Genre: fluff, mutual pinning, Percy having a huge fat crush on Annabeth.

You can find the second part here!

Percy wasn't very fond of smartasses who talked back.

I mean, who wouldn't? They were truly insufferable; acting like they knew everything and spat out facts here and there, all high and mighty.

Annabeth fit that description perfectly.

She's such a stuck up nerd; always beating his spot just opened place higher than him. When they spar, Percy can't help but feel a overwhelming urge pushing him to win. Annabeth struck back with the same passion, every strike, slash, push, thrust, holds her need for victory.

And when Percy does win after a long match? It feels amazing. The refreshing mood when you get exactly what you want- for once beating enemy number one. Annabeth shakes hands with him after and it infuriates him all over again. Why can't she feel more embarassed? Devestated? Shame? She walks away from the training arena calmly like she won over him.

Oh, Annabeth does feel embarassed. Devestated, too. But the look in Percy's eyes when she acts all stoic- seated stop her high horse- is simply electrifying. No better feeling than antagonizing your rivals, right?

They first meet at twelve. Both still young and insufferable, being the natural rivals they were. After all, their godly parents were two of the biggest rivals between one another: Athena and Posiedon.

Then they’re thirteen. Rivals, yes, but they can get along better now. Much better, in fact. Annabeth just feels the tiniest bit of attraction. It's just platonic. That's what she likes to tell herself, really.

Fourteen and Percy and her still bickering and arguing like usual. They can respect each other's boundaries still, all while they make crude jokes about the other. People say that they might be best friends, but the two of them shoot their ideas out of their heads. Who would wan't to be friends with that loser, anyways?

The ripe age of fifteen. Same old Percy, and same old Annabeth. They grow stronger together, and even more stronger as they progress. It's such a heartwarming thing to watch. Annabeth becomes more aware of how Percy looks. His apearance. Once a couple inches shorter than her becomes level-height. And then Percy has the audacity to grow taller than her. 

He likes to tease Annabeth about it. Holding books above her head, or anything he can grab that's hers. It's more blood-boiling when you remember the fact that people in ancient Greece associated height with power. Percy? Have more power than her? Unaceptable.

Percy on the flip side becomes more aware of how his endearing his rival becomes. Annabeth puts him in awe sometimes, incredibly witty and smart. But the snobbish attitude from her makes him want to gag. Maybe not as much as it did in the past other years. Annabeth, (as much as he hates to admit it) is someone he can trust. After years of being partners in both battle and else, that was expected. Percy still can't trust Annabeth with his blue cookies though.

Sixteen, finally. A confusing year for Percy. It becomes a growing problem for Percy when his heart beats erratically when Annabeth is near. Her shampoo smells so heavenly from where he's sitting, which is at the end of her bed. Annabeth sits crossed legged from him, flicking the pages of a book. Percy just saw the lights on from her cabin and crawled through the window. That would make her annoyed, right? No other reason; just to annoy her. Totally not because he wants to see her again.

Annabeth doesn't have the slightest clue in her mind about why she let him in. Or why he opted to sit on her bed directly, instead of sitting on one of the very comfortable seats in the large room. Annabeth doesn't complain. The cabin is empty; her other guests singing along at the campfire or elsewhere. 

Percy gets up wordlessly as Annabeth continues to stare at her book. Words are flowing through, forming, but she can't seem to focus to comprehend the book.

She notices his arrival when the bed dips with his weight. Percy has a blob of water in mid-air, floating just above the palm of his hand.

“You better not get that on my bed,” Annabeth chides, “Or I'll make sure to kill you.”

“Really now?” Percy makes the water floating towards her, threatening to soak her face. It stops inches before her- stopping from wetting her clothes along with it. She doesn't flinch.

Annabeth gives a sticky sweet smile, but her eyes say otherwise. Something along the lines of 'You better be digging up your grave now'. Percy flinches back in surprise, hands braced in a defensive position. The water shifts and floats back to him... to only float around the room aimlessly.

It's times like this when he feels truly at peace. The air is tense, sure, but he feels calmer than ever before. It's liberating.

The water leaks a bit from the moving. Annabeth is amazed how it moves so effortlessly. It's Percy moving it, but that didn't matter. Sometimes Annabeth wished she had powers... Her smarts and wits were amazing, but she felt that she could achieve even more if she had them. It's a painful thought.

Percy sits back on her bed, staring at the white celling. Different coloured sticky notes and red strings are hooked together by flimsy thumb tacks. Talk about being a nerd.

Both lost in their thoughts and a good book, the water comes back around the room to splash on-

Just fucking peachy.

On Annabeth.

“Percy!” She screeches, hair damp with liquid and some finding it's way on her white shirt. Due to the thin fabric and cool water, he shirt becomes a little more. How do you put it? transparent. Translucent.

“Oh shit-” Percy jerks upwards, moving his hands around frantically. If he stares any longer, he might become more aware of the now visible uhm- undergarments. He also might notice that they are blue, his favourite colour, and how it looks so fucking good on her. 

Okay, he's noticed all of that in a matter of seconds.

“Quit staring!” Annabeth protests more, as Percy gets up to face the wall and cover his eyes. 

“I didn't mean to!” He says, still facing away from her. “I-it was a accident!” I swear!”

“Quit you're blubbering and get out!”

“Sorry!” Percy says again, and again. “I’m really sorry!” Until he finds his way to the large mahogany door and steps out.

“I- uh-" He tries to reasonate, tries to make up with her. But it's quickly shut off when Annabeth slams the door in his face. Leaving a very stuttering and blushing Percy.

Seventeen. It's a dreadful year for the two of them.

It becomes painfully clear why Percy had been a blushing, embarrassing mess around Annabeth. Clear on why he feels like he's on cloud nine when she pins him down in the sparing arena. And incredibly clear why Percy thinks about her eyes, her smile, her everything. Even the random facts he always thought was annoying and stupid leave marks on his brain. 

The oblivious son of Poseidon denies his feelings. Just some rivalry feelings! Some of which include him wanting to kiss Annabeth so bad sometimes, or even wanting to hold hands while walking along the sand. Maybe he does have the occasional dream of some less than appropriate things. Percy's rather embarassed about that.

It's when Grover, his reliable and trustworthy best friend finally makes him realize his true feelings. Ones hidden layers of sarcasm and sharp jokes.

“You think about her twenty four seven,” Grover starts, leaning back on the thick trunk of the oak tree. Percy had just came to him mid-spar to tell him how Annabeth was absolutely destroying him.

“And you also blab about her nonstop. I dunno dude, that sounds like a crush to me.” Grover sighs heavily. Percy blinks once. Then twice. And then three times.

“Do you get jealous when you see her with someone else?”

“Yeah! It's sickening! I feel all weird and stuff, so I-”

“You have a crush~” Grover teases.

“No? I think it's just-"

“Its a crush, Percy. You're so oblivious that it'll never progress more than that.”

“What’s that supposed to mean!?” Percy scowls at him. A bead of sweat trails down his forehead, caused from the hours of training.

“It means you have to confess.” Grover simply states, getting up. His hooves clomp down on the hard-packed earth as he trails away. “You gotta do it sooner or later, before someone else does it!”

That thought makes bile rise in his stomach. Annabeth? Go out with someone's else? Other than him? No way. Negatory.

But what if she declines? Annabeth is completely free to do that; but Percy would probably die of heartbreak. And if she started to date someone? Percy would explode.

It's settled, then.

He's going to confess.

-

- a/n:

(re-uploaded to fix some mistakes, lol)

[athenadione]

Can I request #19 with your choice of ship?

Ahhh, thank you for giving me the BEST prompt for my first shot at jayrae <3

Pairing: JayRae Words: 1,387 Rated: M for cursing and minor scenes of NSFW

‘you should stay and drink Earl Grey’

Jason is instantly awake when he hears rummaging in his apartment, though he doesn’t move. Adrenaline shoots up his spine and a million questions are immediately running through his mind. Who is inside, why, what are they doing in his kitchen, and how in the goddamn world did they get through every single one of his alarms?

First he thinks it’s a bat— or a bird. Baby birds and little wings have an annoying tendency of showing up at his safe houses without knocking first, and nearly getting shot at as a consequence. He can’t even count the number of times Replacement almost got a bullet to the chest. At least the brat is smart enough to give him a heads up before traipsing through his front door. 

But then he hears the soft padding of feet through the tile of his kitchen and everything from last night pours into his mind, filling his senses. Heavy panting and rough, broken pleas. Pale, smooth, legs trembling with effort from his ministrations. The taste of her, still lingering on his lips. 

So it is a bird. 

She had come to him in the dead of night, an ethereal goddess, and hadn’t said a word when she slithered into his bed— eyes silently pleading for a distraction from whatever darkness had seeped into the edges of her irises. 

He had understood her need— had come to her with his own a few times when the voices of the Pit were too loud to ignore. 

It had been an unspoken rule between the two of them that she could come to him for her needs whenever she wanted. She’d always slip back out just before dawn. The only indication that she had ever been in his bed was the scent she left behind; Lavender and vanilla. 

The near silent sounds of swinging cabinets opening and shutting tell him that this morning she stayed, and he doesn’t know what to do about the feeling that reverberates in his chest as a result. 

He sits up in his bed slowly, lifting a hand to rub at his eyes, and the sheets fall to bunch around his waist. Stretching sore leg muscles from the previous night, he yawns and shuffles around his room to throw on some sweatpants that had been tossed into a heap on the floor shortly after she came to him. 

This apartment has two bedrooms and a full kitchen— one of the reasons he chose this as one of his main safe houses. That plus the full landscape view of Crime Alley below makes for a short commute to work. 

After all the times he’s stumbled into his apartment after dark, he’s memorized how many steps it takes to get to the kitchen, and they’re near silent across the linoleum when it comes into view. 

The sight before him makes him pause mid-step, causing another unrecognizable pang through his chest.

Her back is turned to him and he notices his t-shirt she’s wearing practically drowns her, and his first thought is how such a powerful demoness can be so damn small. Then his eyes sweep the rest of her figure. One arm is stretched out, searching in one of his cupboards while the other is braced against the kitchen counter. Standing up on her tiptoes, his shirt raises a few scant inches, barely covering her ass. He vaguely notices the kettle pot she’s already found has begun to boil water over the heated stove. 

Then she lets go of a gentle hum in the back of her throat when she pulls her arm out of the cabinet, taking with her two mugs and two blended packets of Earl Grey. 

He watches as the movement to bring both mugs back down with her causes one sleeve of his shirt to slide down to reveal a pale, bare shoulder, and she makes an effort to close the cabinet while making as little noise as possible in an obvious attempt to avoid waking him. Once she completes her quest, the smile of victory that graces her lips shortly after causes an emotion he can’t interpret to swell in his throat.

He doesn’t know why this particular moment takes his breath away, because this isn’t anything that is considered out of the ordinary, but it does completely. 

The simple act of brewing tea for them both in his t-shirt is so domestic, so right, he can’t help but feel like she belongs here— not just in his kitchen or in his apartment, but with him. 

“God, you are so fucking cute.” 

The moment is lost when she promptly tenses every muscle in her body as soon as the words are out of his mouth, and the smirk that soon plays at his lips is natural because anytime he’s able to surprise her is a triumph all on its own. 

And his smirk grows when she turns to face him with deliberate movements, throwing him a pensive stare that would intimidate anyone else but him. The corners of her mouth tug downwards into a light frown as her eyes flick down at his own figure, hesitating over his bare chest. 

“You think this,” She gestures over her body with a flippant hand, then picks at a particular spot on his shirt that has a vague, discolored stain, “Is cute?”

His smile broadens even further and he takes a few steps closer to her. “Isn’t that what I just said, Princess?” 

The annoyance is near palpable on her face at the pet name, and she sets down the mugs and tea bags to cross her arms in front of her chest. “Kittens are cute.” 

“Mhmm.” He doesn’t mention that kittens and ravens are now and forever synonymous in his mind. 

“Babies are cute.” She continues. 

“Debatable.” He points out. 

She ignores him. “But the ‘early morning after an impromptu rendezvous’ look is not cute.” She crosses her legs at her ankles and tucks a stray hair that falls in front of her face behind her ear.

Jason easily crosses the kitchen to reach her, and he encircles his arms on either side of her body, effectively caging her in against the counter. Relishing in the way she instinctively arches against him, he lowers his face until it’s just a few inches from hers. 

“Sorry to break it to you Rae, but standing here in my kitchen, wearing nothing but my shirt and making us some Earl Grey is nothing short of adorable.” He tells her. “It’s also sexy as hell.” He adds. 

A scowl is her response, but to Jason it just looks like the cutest pout he’s ever seen, and the sudden urge to kiss her has him closing the remaining distance between them to capture her lips with his. She releases a muffled squeak of surprise that really does sound like the mewl of a kitten, but he’s wise enough to not point that out to her, and he places his hands at the swell of her hips to swiftly place her bottom on the counter so that he can deepen their kiss. 

She melts against him, wrapping her arms around his neck to pull him closer— allowing him entrance to her mouth when his tongue dances across her bottom lip teasingly. 

He kisses her slowly, smiling against her lips when she urges him to continue, but instead he pulls back to peer into her eyes.

“You stayed.” He states, noticing when her hands release him to fidget in the hem of his shirt. Carefully averting his gaze, she bites her lip. Not cute my ass. 

“I have the day off, and I thought that it would be nice to wake you up with a cup of tea?” She offers and her hands still as if she suddenly realized the forwardness of her actions. “I should go—”

“No.” Jason cuts her off, giving her a rare, genuine smile. 

“You should stay.” 

She pauses, looks at him impassively for a minute, until something between them shifts, and she gives him a rare, genuine smile in return. “Okay.” 

“Good…” He steps back when she pushes at his forearms so that she can finish brewing their tea, 

“...Cutie.” 

His echoing laugh fills the kitchen when he narrowly avoids the paper towel roll she throws at him a second later.

[madsthewordclown]

Fire Lily | Pt. 11

warnings: slight angst I guess?

a/n: this chapter is a bit shorter than the last two I believe. It’s mainly just Y/N having some bonding moments with the Gaang. I honestly feel like she’d vibe with all of them in different ways? Anyway, I’m excited. This is set during The Awakening.

Fire Lily Masterlist

Y/N almost wanting to cry with relief as she took off the Fire Nation armor. The ship had stopped in the port of a village and Toph and Sokka had invited her to come along to find dinner. Hakoda had said that the armor wouldn’t be necessary for the trip, so Y/N would get to put it away for the night.

Maybe she’d be able to find a shirt while they were in town. She had a small amount of money of her own—she had offered it to be used for the crew, but for whatever reason, Hakoda had declined. Y/N had a hard time figuring out Hakoda. If their roles were switched, she probably wouldn’t have trusted him. But he was treating her no differently than the others.

“Ready to go?” Katara asked, peeking her head in the doorway of the room they shared.

“Yeah.” Y/N eyed the hook swords that laid next to her cot. She made the difficult decision not to bring them. They were far enough into Fire Nation territory that her bending probably wouldn’t be questioned. Plus, they had Toph.

Y/N met Katara, Sokka, and Toph in the hallway outside of their shared room.

“Let’s see if Aang wants to go with us,” Katara suggested, her expression pained. Even though Aang was awake, Katara will still obviously worried about his condition. The kid seemed to have a tendency to overexert himself.

Y/N and the others followed Katara to one of the upper levels of the ship. Toph handed her a brown cloak on the way. “Better safe than sorry,” she explained.

Y/N tugged the cloak over her shoulders and secured the clasp. They finally came to a stop in front of a metal door similar to their own. Katara knocked softly before entering. Y/N and the others followed.

“Hey, Aang! We’re going into town to find some dinner if you want to come!” Toph smiled at Aang, who was leaning back on his own cot.

“I am pretty hungry.” Aang sat up, a hand on his stomach. He was obviously still a bit weak, and it made Y/N’s hands feel jittery.

Sokka stepped forward, holding out a piece of cloth to Aang.

“Here, put this on. It’ll cover your arrow.” The arrow was already mostly covered by Aang’s hair. Y/N didn’t think it looked right on him, although she had only seen him twice before the battle with Azula.

Aang looked affronted, flopping back down onto his mattress. “I’m not going out if I can’t wear my arrow proudly.” It made Y/N’s heart twinge. She couldn’t begin to understand what Aang was facing. It was enough to fight a war without having to let go of your own culture’s traditions.

“Aang, come on,” Sokka pushed. “Be practical.”

“Go ahead without us,” Katara said softly, putting a hand on Sokka’s shoulder before turning to Aang. “We’ll catch up.”

Y/N averted her eyes, feeling like an intrusion. Sokka nodded. Y/N was startled to feel Toph grab onto her hand to pull her from the room, the door shutting softly behind them.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m starving,” Sokka announced. Y/N hummed in agreement. They hadn’t been able to stop yesterday, so they were living on leftovers. Plus, they weren’t able to eat regular meals. As it turned out, the Fire Nation didn’t respect their schedule.

The three made their way up to the deck of the ship, the port they’d landed in visible. There weren’t many people out and about, from what Y/N could tell.

“Is this a true Fire Nation island? Or a colony?” Y/N asked aloud.

“I think it’s a colony.” Sokka threw the hood of his own cloak up over his head. “We’re too close to Earth Kingdom mainland. The important thing is there are no soldiers.”

“Well, we’re here,” Toph pointed out. “All of the villagers must think we’re soldiers.”

“Oh, yeah. I guess you’re right.” Sokka led the way down the gangplank and onto the wooden dock. “C’mon, let’s find the market.”

They continued to walk into the streets of the village. While there weren’t many people around, Y/N noticed a few faces peeking from windows. They looked to be Earth Kingdom citizens. Y/N noticed a woman and child in the Fire Nation’s signature red walking down the street calmly.

“Have you ever been to the colonies before?” While Y/N hadn’t technically lived in the colonies, she had lived right on the outskirts. Her father’s estate was still Earth Kingdom territory, although they were still subject to the occasional visits from Fire Nation soldiers. But the village they went to for food, and where Bihun went to school, was Fire Nation territory.

“No. They seem like a bit of a drag,” Toph admitted, kicking a stray pebble in front of her.

“This one must be pretty new,” Y/N mumbled, looking around at the darkened houses.

“What makes you say that?” Sokka questioned.

“When I was little, the village near my house was a lot like this. Earth Kingdom citizens were afraid to leave their homes. The Fire Nation people, not just the soldiers, constantly belittled us. There was a Fire Nation boy that picked on me at the market once when I was little.

“But it’s not like that anymore. It took a while, but it became a lot more like everyone was coexisting. My older brother went to school with Fire Nation kids. Most kids stuck to their cliques, and it wasn’t always peaceful, but… it was getting better. Or at least, it was before I left. This is more like an occupation.”

“Huh. That’s… interesting,” Sokka hummed.

“The soldiers definitely caused more trouble than anything. But people are just people. Eventually, they’ll figure out how to coexist as long as someone isn’t pitting them against each other.”

“That’s an interesting perspective,” Toph observed.

“I hope I can go back once the war is over.” It was the first time Y/N really had an idea for what came after. “I want to find my brother and see my family again.” The dream Y/N had the night before came back to her. Boiling rock. She could tell that Sokka wanted to ask what she meant about her brother and was grateful when he kept it to himself.

“Look!” Toph pointed suddenly. In front of them, a man was rolling a cart full of bags of rice across the road.

“Yes!” Sokka punched the air in victory. “Food!”

“Finally.” Y/N smiled, feeling her heart flutter as she set off running alongside Sokka and Toph to catch up to the man.

---

The Avatar was gone. It was probably the worst-case scenario. They had pulled out of port and were on their way when Katara went to bring Aang a tray of food. The wind had picked up, and the weather seemed to be going bad. The added wind going west was helping the ship move along at a very quick pace. Sokka said that they’d probably officially be in the Fire Nation within hours.

Y/N watched the stormy skies with a furrowed brow. Aang had taken his glider. The added factor of the turbulent weather made it that much worse. It was already dark from the setting sun, covered by the dark clouds. Y/N remembered how weak he still appeared and shuddered. He hadn’t eaten anything before he left, either.

Y/N pulled her cloak tighter around her body to shield herself from the wind. The ship lurched in the water, and suddenly Y/N regretted eating so much rice. She could tell that Toph felt the same as the girl held her stomach.

“He can’t have gone far,” Y/N reasoned, approaching Katara, who was obviously beside herself. “I’m sure he must have found land not too far from here.”

“We have to find him,” Katara stated simply, her eyes severe. Y/N put a hand on the other girl’s shoulder in an attempt to be comforting.

“And we will. We just have to wait for the storm to die down. I’m sure your dad and Sokka have a pretty good idea of where we are.”

Katara’s face darkened more at the mention of her father. Y/N sighed.

“I don’t mean to intrude, but… why are you mad at him?”

“It’s just…” Katara bit her lip, glancing towards the floor. “After our mom died, Sokka and I were so lost. And then Dad had to leave, and I understand why, I really do, but… we needed him.”

“I think it’s okay to be a bit mad.” Y/N looked out at the dark water. “It isn’t really his fault, I guess. He had to leave. But you’re allowed to feel that way.”

“But I shouldn’t be mad at him,” Katara argued. “I know he had to leave.”

“That doesn’t mean that it doesn’t hurt.” Y/N thought of her own father. He would have left, too, if he were asked to fight. “But he did leave for you. He probably hoped that you wouldn’t have to fight. My father never wanted my brother and I to have to fight.

“He tried to keep us away from it all for so long. I didn’t even go to school because he was worried about my bending being discovered. And he was doing what was best for us, and I see that now. But I never had friends, and despite everything he tried to help me, I’m still scared of what I am. And that hurts. But I still love him, and I forgive him for all of it, because now I understand that he just wanted my brother and I to be okay.”

Y/N had surprised herself with how much talking she had done. “I’m sorry,” Y/N backtracked. “That probably wasn’t super helpful.”

“No.” Katara smiled. “Thank you, for talking to me.”

Y/N looked up as the rain finally began to fall, pelting the hull of the ship as the vessel swayed on the sea.

“Come on,” Katara offered, lifting her hands and waterbending the droplets away from them. “Let’s go inside. We’ll find Aang as soon as it stops.”

---

“This is the only area he could have landed.” Sokka pointed at the spot on the map. Y/N lit another lantern as she, Katara, Toph, and Sokka sat in the captain’s room with Hakoda and Bato. “Any other spot is too far away.”

“That’s too big of an area,” Katara protested, the worry still evident on her face. Toph yawned. They had all been awoken as soon as the rain had stopped, which turned out to be right before the crack of dawn.

“The wind was blowing to the northwest,” Y/N piped up, eying the map as she lit another lantern. “And with his condition he probably couldn’t be far from the coastline. He probably landed somewhere in the center of that region, because we were about—” Y/N pointed to a spot on the map— “here when the storm started, and he would’ve had to slow down when the rain started. And with the possibility of lightning, he’d have to have been flying pretty low.”

The others stared at Y/N for a moment in shock. Y/N shrugged. “I spent a lot of time in the library.” Her mother had spent countless hours tutoring her, since she couldn’t go to school. Bihun was convinced Y/N learned more at home than he did at school.

“I’ve also done a lot of traveling recently,” Y/N added, feeling her cheeks warm slightly.

“Alright,” Hakoda coughed. “We’ll head in and drop you kids off there. You can find Aang and then lay low, and we’ll meet you again later for the invasion.”

“Thanks, Dad.” Sokka stood, pulling Hakoda and Katara into a hug. Y/N’s heart ached, suddenly feeling the strong absence of her own family. It had been so long since they’d all been under the same roof.

“Let’s go,” Katara said determinedly as Sokka and Hakoda let go.

Katara gave the ship fog cover just in case as they creeped closer to land. Y/N was in awe of the land in front of them. It was rocky, with jagged hills. Y/N thought she could see the orange glow of lava in the distance. They were definitely in the Fire Nation.

The ship moved as close to the land as possible, letting the gangplank fall down into the shallow water. Katara did the rest, parting a dry path across the sand.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay?” Y/N checked with Hakoda one more time. She knew it was valuable having a firebender on the ship.

“Go,” Hakoda insisted. “We can handle it. And we don’t want people to come around asking too many questions about Captain Yai.” Hakoda smiled. “Besides, my kids seem to like you.”

“Thank you,” Y/N said gratefully, reaching to shake Hakoda’s hand. Before she could react, Hakoda was pulling her into a brief hug.

“Take care of them, and we’ll see you in a few weeks,” he said.

“I will,” Y/N promised. She would do her best. She’d already failed once before at taking care of her friends, and she wasn’t eager to fail again.

“Coming, Captain?” Toph called from down in the sand where she was waiting with Sokka and Katara.

“Yeah,” Y/N shouted back, walking down the gangplank. When she hit the sand, she turned to and waved goodbye to the others on the ship. “Let’s find Aang.”

Fire Lily Masterlist

taglist: @kaylove12, @akariblue, @wolfiemichele, @aquatickanye, @sunflowerr-mami, @nadiblue

[thecleverdame]

Gods of Twilight - 22

Alpha!Werewolf!Sam x Human!Reader

Master List (posting schedule is there as well)

Summary: You marry Sam, The King of Lebanon, as part of an alliance between two lands. You soon discover that nothing is as it appears and that your husband is hiding a secret that may end your relationship before it can begin.

Warnings: smut, dub-con, canon-level violence, domestic discipline, spanking.  This chapter does contain some non-con elements.

Beta:  @ilikaicalie​

*This story is complete. All 27 chapters are available on Patreon. To get access to this and many other stories, subscribe for a pledge of 2.50 per month. CLICK HERE

-

You’re not sure where you are. You think you’re awake, blinking several times but there’s nothing except all-consuming darkness. 

“H-Hello?” you call out, throat on fire. You’ve never been this thirsty in all your life. There’s a haze of confusion, the heat of your own body, the sensation of blood boiling in your veins, but the air around you is frigid. 

Are you dead? Where is Sam?

Fear blooms in your chest as you pat along the floor, feeling for any sign of your surroundings. There’s cold stone under your palms. You feel further along, trying to find a wall only to realize there are bindings around your wrists. You panic, pulling both arms toward your body as a heavy chain rattles cold and heavy over your legs. 

“Help me!” You shout, curling into a ball, trembling in fear. “Is anyone there? I need help!”

A thousand thoughts collide at once. Have you been kidnapped? Are you dead? Where is your husband? All you want is Sam to appear and explain what’s happening. 

“Sam!” you call out. “I’m here!” 

For a long time, you sit there and cry, the panic coming in surges, bringing with it sweat and heat and desperation. You pull at your bonds, tugging and thrashing until you think you’ll break your arm. There’s a warm wet trickle sliding down your right arm and you know it’s blood, the cuff around your wrist has sliced through the skin and if you keep fighting the chains you’re afraid of doing irreparable damage. 

During the worst of it you writhe and scream, sure that you’re in the pits of hell, locked away, alone and chained for all eternity. At some point, you wear yourself out like an exhausted toddler after a fit and fall asleep on the ground in a cold sweat. 

When you wake the second time, you’re prepared for your surroundings. But you also feel different. There’s an ache in your stomach as if you’ve eaten something that doesn’t agree with you and surely you have a fever. 

Somewhere in the distance, there’s the dripping of water falling. Looking toward the sound you focus in and see a faint flickering in the distance, the only sign of life so far. The discomfort in your stomach spreads upward, bringing with it nausea and sense of...longing? No, that’s not it but it’s a strange need sparking to life. 

The sound of the water grows louder. The longer you stare into the distance the more you realize you can see a far off glow of a torch. Your wrists are sore from trying to escape but you suddenly feel strong. There’s no explaining it, but a determination sets in and you’re sure that you can free yourself. 

“Pull yourself together,” you whisper. You stand, slapping your cheeks to focus on the task at hand and then you push forward with every last vestige of strength within you. The metal holds and for a moment you think your wrist will snap, but instead, the cuffs crack. First, one, then the next, leaving you breathlessly victorious in the dark. 

Carefully you move in the dark, mindful of not tripping. But as you walk you discover that you can in fact see. It’s muted, but you can discern the outline of the stone that covers the floor and the doorway near the end of the room. 

There’s a long, winding hall in both directions with half-burnt torches lighting each direction. You look both ways, unsure of where to go, but fear guides you to move. Right seems like as good a choice as any.

After walking for what seems like a lifetime, you come upon another Y. One of the halls is lit, the other ominously dark, ready to swallow you up. Closing your eyes you send up a prayer and follow the flames. The tunnel curls away into infinite nothingness.You shudder, feeling your brain starting to go hazy, searching for a way out. Should you go back?  

Eventually, the tunnel opens up into a tall room and you’re met with the sight of an enormous statue. You recognize it as a larger version of the same statue in the Great Hall. This is King John, and to his right is a stone carving of Queen Mary. 

Sam’s parents. You’re in the catacombs of your own castle. 

What could this mean? The implications are endless, but at least you haven’t been kidnapped. You’re thankful for that. 

A few fears whirl to life in the back of your brain. What’s happened to your husband? However you ended up here, Sam would certainly never allow you to be chained up in the bowels of the castle. The longer you walk, the more certain you are that he’s fallen victim to some cruel fate. You pray he’s alive, tears swelling up and dripping down your cheeks. 

There’s a faint memory and then the realization that the last thing you recall is pregnancy. You were round as a house and excited to spend the afternoon walking in the countryside with Sam. 

You pat your flat stomach, sighing heavily in confusion. Nothing makes sense, up is down. The very universe seems to have turned on its head. A sudden, spine curling pain rips through your stomach, sending you to your knees as you moan in agony. Something is wrong. You’re dying, you’re sure of it. 

Taking a moment to recover, you manage to get back on your feet and keep moving. Scrambling up two sets of spiral stairs you find yourself in one of the lower passages of the castle. While you never spent time in the catacombs themselves, you explored these areas when you first came here. Spent dusk till dawn tiptoeing around and memorizing each nook and cranny. 

There’s a window ahead, but no light shining in. It must be night time. 

You walk on, careful to remain as quiet as possible. The circumstances in which you awoke are bizarre and you suspect that there are villains afoot. 

You can hear voices, a distant conversation between two guards discussing the bosom of a servant girl. It’s strange, you’re sure they’re far away, but you can still make out every word. Slipping down a narrow back passage you move stealthily around the outside wall of the castle, only to have it spit you out into the Great Hall. 

Peeking around the corner you check to ensure that no one is lurking. It must be the wee hours of the morning and the castle should be asleep. 

You’re met with a welcome sight. Dean. You’ve never been happier to see him, at least he’s a familiar face. 

“Dean!” you hiss, walking toward him. 

He turns, eyes bulging at the sight of you. It seems to take a moment for him to realize it’s you, hands falling from his hips, mouth gaping open. 

“What are you doing?” he rasps, taking a careful step in your direction. “You freed yourself?” His eyes dart to your bloody wrists and tattered nightdress. 

“Someone took me prisoner! Chained me up in the catacombs!” You sputter, fresh tears pooling in your eyes. “They left me to die down there. And my baby, do you know what happened to my baby?”

“Oh, no,” his face falls, eyes fluttering closed as his fists clench. 

“Where is Sam?” You inch closer. “Is he alright? I have to let him know I’m alive.”

“He knows,” Dean explains gently, holding out a hand like a trainer working with a wild horse.  “He put you down there himself...for protection.” 

“What?” You choke, your body going cold. Of course Dean would take joy in pitting you against your husband. “What are these lies?”

“You need to remain calm,” he whispers, swallowing hard. “Why don’t I send a guard to find Sam and we’ll call a maid to clean you up.”

You look down your skirts, covered in mud and grime. You can only speculate what the rest of you must look like. 

“Wait,” your mind is racing. “You said Sam put me down there? He chained me?”

“There is so much you don’t understand right now. He only did what he thought was best. Let me have someone find him, he can explain-”

“No,” you panic. 

Is it possible your husband has turned on you? What is it that you’re not remembering?

“Talk to him, he can explain-”

“Where is my son? Did I give birth?” you whisper, the swell of emotion aching in your chest. “Did he die?”

Dean blinks, eyes wrinkling as he nods.

“You have a daughter and she’s in perfect health.” 

A daughter. You were so sure the child was a boy and yet his words ring true somewhere deep inside. 

“Will you take me to her?” You move closer, reaching out to your brother-in-law. “I want to see her. She must need me.”

“She’s fine,” Dean counters. “You’ll see her soon, I’m sure.” 

“Please,” you implore. “Please, I know you hate me but you have to tell me what’s happening-”

You’re interrupted as pain shoots through you stomach. It’s similar to your monthly bleed but magnified a thousand times. As the spasm passes you break out in a sweat, glancing at the roaring fire. 

You stare at Dean thinking a thought so foreign, so treacherous, that you can scarcely believe it’s yours.  But you can’t deny that you find him...attractive. There’s a pull, a lust that creeps out of the recesses of your mind, popping up out of its hiding place. 

And you swear, although you know it cannot be, that you can smell him. Tipping your head from one side to the other you examine his face. He’s frozen, watching you have a life altering realization as you breathe in deep, taking his scent into your lungs. 

Your heart speeds up, chest rising and falling faster as you slide closer. 

“What is wrong with me?” Squeezing your eyes shut, you pull Sam’s face to the forefront of your brain. 

Sam. 

Sam. Your husband. The father of your child...and yet Dean is right here and he doesn’t seem to be bothered by the idea of you eyeing him like a choice cut of meat. 

“We shouldn’t be near one another.” He gulps but doesn’t move away. 

“I feel,” you swallow, a trickle of sweat rolling down your temple. “I think I have a fever.”

That has to be it, you’re sick. It’s the only explanation for these adulterous urges. 

“You’re in heat,” he breathes in through his nose, pupils widening. “Or close enough.”

“What?” you murmur, not really listening. “I am rather hot.” 

“You don’t-” he goes silent when you glide closer. 

You arch upward, eyes fluttering closed at the heat of his skin and the scent of him surrounding you, wrapping around and crawling inside where you’re vibrating with need. You reach up, sliding a hand over his chest and he grabs your wrist. 

“Stop.” 

“Why?” you ask.

“You’re married to my brother.” 

“I…” the thought gets lost somewhere in the lust induced haze. “I know I should stop but I want to be close to you.”

He’s looking down at you as his tongue darts out over his lower lip. His head dips down, your mouths a moment shy of connecting. 

“Take your hands off her.” 

Sam’s voice is a low growl. You pull back from Dean to find your husband standing in the middle of the room. Both of his hands balled into fists at his sides and his eyes narrowed, focused on the two of you. 

“Brother,” Dean swipes a hand over his face as he turns away. 

“Sam,” you heart swells, then shatters at the sight of him. He’s furious, and he should be. He just caught his wife in the arms of his brother. “I don’t know what’s the matter with me. I’m so sorry. I can’t think. I’m overcome with this...fever.”

Dean retreats further away from you and the pain rips through your abdomen. You cry out, falling to your knees, howling and clutching your stomach. 

“She’s in heat.” Dean says that word again and it dawns on you what he means. But it can’t be. You’re human. 

“Please make it stop,” the pain grows stronger, and you drop onto your side, lying on the floor and writhing desperately. “What’s happened to me?”

“Stay away.” Sam thrusts a finger toward Dean. “You’ve done enough damage.” 

“I did what needed to be done,” Dean spits back. 

“And you would have again if I hadn’t come upon you. You would have fucked her in the name of salvation.”

“Watch yourself!” Dean steps toward Sam but you draw their attention, letting out a blood curdling scream. 

“Am I dying?” you cry, looking up at your husband. 

“No,” he whispers, his face morphing from anger to something softer. Kneeling down he scoops you up in his arms. “I’ll take care of you.”

While it’s not quite the same as being near to Dean, Sam holding you, pressed up against his body, quells the cramping. You claw at his shoulder, bury your face in his chest. 

“I don't understand,” you whisper, tears sliding down your face. 

“I know.” Sam walks away from Dean. “Let me make you feel better, then I’ll explain everything.” 

[bi-the-way-i-love-bunnies]

(In which Draco can’t cook to save his life au along with a dash of Christmas spirit)

Drarry drabble ~ 10/19 ~ about 3.5k

“Pansy.” Smoke was starting to crowd the room. Said girl remained oblivious as she scrolled through her phone. 

“Pansy.” The flame on the stove got bigger than Draco would have liked. He debated on using an Aguamenti, but wait, didn’t that weird muggle cookbook warn something about  using water with an open flame? Regardless he wasn’t taking any chances. Pansy, the cow, only gave a small hmm and continued on with whatever she was doing. 

“PANSY!” Ok that was it, he put a protective bubble around the stove just in a nick of time. He looked at the pot that started to burn inside the blazing inferno. And it has been a housewarming gift from Mrs. Weasley too. Regardless, he allowed himself a small moment of relief for dealing with one of the many problems that happened in the kitchen today. Small mercies he supposed. And that’s when the fire alarm started beeping persistently. 

In a frenzy, he tried putting up a silencio charm, but it kept wavering and wearing off. His spells never did work well when he was worked up in a mood. The smoke was fogging up the kitchen more than ever now too, much to Draco’s dismay. Harry was not going to be happy about the lingering smell later. 

The timer on the counter started going off signaling that the roast in the oven was done. At the same time the small pot next to the bubble charm of heat started to over boil due to his neglect when dealing with everything else. 

“Oh for fuck’s sake Draco,” Pansy finally looked up from her phone. She quickly casted her own silencing spell and vanished the smoke in the air. Right...now that his main problems were dealt with he quickly got to attending the roast. He put on those ridiculous Chudley Cannon mitts gifted by Ron from last Christmas (why they never got to replacing these hideously bright orange mitts he’ll never know) and got to work. He was pleasantly surprised to see that the roast looked exactly like it was supposed to in the muggle cookbook, a large victory in his disastrous attempts at cooking. 

He lifted it out of the oven planning to get it onto the counter quickly when the large pan collided with the edge of the oven door. It all happened too quickly, but one moment everything was perfectly fine and the next the pan shifted way too far right and his perfectly cooked roast stumbled onto the floor!

“Shit!” Draco cursed and ran to the counter to grab a napkin when he slipped onto the floor, his arse landing in the sauce used to marinate the meat. 

“You know when I asked you to help me I didn't mean for you to just sit on your arse scrolling through that muggle device of yours,” Draco glared.

Pansy rolled her eyes but took pity on him as she waved her wand to clean up the mess on the floor minus the roast. 

“Should we try Scourgifying it?” 

Like that would help save dinner, he sighed. Not to mention it was unhygienic and Harry would throw a fit if he found out. 

“Just vanish it, it’s useless anyways.” She nodded and a second later the roast was gone.

“At least you’ll have the creme brulee. And the potatoes,” she spared a glance at the pot that was overboiling a minute prior before grimacing. “Ok, maybe not the potatoes but who needs dinner when you have dessert anyways.” 

“Watch it turn out just as well as everything else,” he remarked and got up from the floor to check what was left of his cooking attempts. 

He went to the fridge to check on the little ramekins. Earlier they looked fine, but knowing his luck he’d have to test it before serving. 

Pansy handed him a spoon as he dug in and took a bite. A moment later was all it took and he quickly rushed over to the sink and spat it out. 

“Pansy, did you use salt instead of the sugar earlier?” It was one of the only times Pansy decided to help in the kitchen. She reasoned earlier that if she was going to help, at least it would be on the dish that requires the least amount of effort. 

She shrugged and took a bite of Draco’s neglected creme brulee before making a face. “Well...they did both look the same. And they’re in matching containers, Draco, what did you expect!”

“I just wanted to make a good dinner this year,” he sighed in defeat. Each year their friend group always got together and drew straws to see who’s house they were going to for Christmas dinner. Everytime he and Potter hosted, the Gryffindor prat would always suggest going to that all night buffet around Ron and Hermione’s place. 

“Hey, it’s all you can eat, saves the hassle of cooking, and they give war veterans discounts.” 

Draco couldn’t really argue against that and so they all went last year. He had to admit that the food was pretty good, but there was something about a nice home cooked meal on Christmas night that you just couldn’t replicate. 

Draco learned long ago that Harry simply did not cook. Not that Draco was judging, since he couldn’t cook as well. He’d rather leave that to the house elves, thank you very much. However, the difference between the two was that Draco was willing to try on the occasions where they had free time. Also, he was rather curious about the recipes Pansy was always going on about. Harry just usually shook his head each time and suggested they order take out. And in the three years that they have been together, two since they moved into a rather spacious flat at the heart of muggle London, he just accepted his boyfriend’s answer without ever looking into it. He just couldn’t be arsed about doing all the prep work and washing up afterwards. 

This Christmas though, they got picked again, and he’ll be damned if Potter thought they could just go to that buffet place again. So the night beforehand when he told Harry he was making dinner this year, the git just laughed and wished him good luck. 

“You had house elves your whole life, Draco. And cooking isn’t as easy as it appears on the telly.” 

So Draco set to work that morning to prove Harry wrong, starting even before the git left for work. But hours later and now he was here with a nearly burnt flat, no food to show, and a really smelly kitchen. Oh yeah, and there was Pansy being no help at all. 

He supposed if he hurried, he could use magic to make the food instead of relying on the muggle way. But apparently magic took away the flavor, according to Potter and after the day he had, he just wanted to give up. Suddenly the buffet idea was starting to sound appealing again. But screw him, he just wanted a nice dinner this year and at least he tried! The same couldn’t be said about his arse of a boyfriend, no matter how much he loved him. 

He looked at the mess he made before grabbing his wand. No need for the flat to stay in this state before Harry got home. 

“Right. Help me start cleaning Pans.” Reluctantly, she did what she was told. 

The two set to work for an hour or two before the floo flared up and Harry entered their flat. 

“Hey,” he greeted Draco with a quick kiss before turning to Pansy and giving her a small peck on the cheek. 

“How was he today?” he asked her as he started to take off the outer layer of his auror robes. 

She rolled her eyes, “As great as you’d expect a Malfoy to be in the kitchen.” 

“Hey! I’ll have to remind you two that I was brilliant at potions. My skills are not that abominable.” 

Pansy gave him a look before moving on. “Don’t mind him being such a twat, Potter. He’s just sad that everything he made didn’t turn out to be on the same scale as Mrs. Weasley’s.” She took her coat off the coat rack before making her way towards the floo. 

“Ta dears. See you in two days,” she took a handful of floo powder before giving the couple one last glance. “And Draco darling. The day hasn’t been a total bust. It was just as entertaining as I thought it’d be.” She gave him a wink and then she was gone. 

“Tosser,” he muttered, a tad too fondly if the look Harry was giving him was to go by. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to order from a deli or something,” Harry wrapped his arms around Draco. “It could even be from that expensive place on Bulbadox Avenue that you like so much. I checked and they’ll be open.” 

Draco rolled his eyes before returning Harry’s hug and relaxing in his lover’s embrace. 

“We could save that as a backup plan or something, but I’m planning to make a better meal tomorrow.” Not that he’d think he’d do any better. 

Harry snorted. “We found out you’re shit at cooking, just like the majority of us knew. Why don’t we spend the next day doing something relaxing. We could go and visit the market place near Diagon Alley. When it’s dark all the lights would be really pretty, and Hannah says they have a spectacular light display this year.” 

“Alright,” he agreed, “We could go later after I get our flat ready for our guests.” 

Harry pulled back a bit and made a face. “Are you sure? No offense Draco, but judging from what Pansy said I really don’t think you should waste your breath.” 

“I’m quite sure, Potter.” And they left it at that. 

The next day’s attempts were as disastrous as the first one’s. However, Harry definitely knew a lot more than Pansy and tried containing the damage as best as he could. 

“Wait! Draco, put that on simmer.” 

“Hold on! Don’t peel like that! You don’t want to take off a chunk of skin.”

“Draco! Oh God, where is the baking soda!” 

And so the fire department came after their neighbors called. That was a fun exchange to watch as he saw Harry stumble through explanations on what happened, his face rivaling Ron’s hair. 

By the end of the afternoon they were both exhausted. But since it was Christmas Eve they decided to go to the marketplace just like they planned. Draco was glad they decided to go, as he found out that Hannah wasn’t exaggerating. The light display was truly spectacular this year. 

He walked with Potter hand in hand as they made their way around different booths. They ended up buying an assortment of jams, cheese, and bread seeing how that one bread booth had some quite delicious samples. 

They were making the last of their rounds around the giant fountain at the center of the square when he overheard a family talking about their plans to make a special Christmas dinner the next day. He felt the tiniest sense of disappointment as he remembered his failed attempts earlier. 

“Penny for your thoughts?” Harry asked as they passed by a ginormous Christmas tree lit up with streams of garland and fairy lights. If you looked closely you could see some actual fairies dancing around the branches. The sight put a smile on Draco’s face. 

“Just thinking about Christmas dinner. I really wanted to make something special this year.” 

“Oh,” he could hear the frown in Potter’s tone, “But I thought you’d rather not deal with the hassle. Not to mention all our friends are coming by and I know how much you hate it when the flat’s a mess. Specifically since we know how Ron gets when he starts with the firewhiskey.” Draco shrugged.

“I think I’m just being nostalgic about it,” he mused. “I know you don’t talk about your childhood all that much, but during Christmas time at the manor, mother and father would always gather all their Pureblood friends and all the elves would prepare the best meal to impress all the guests. There’s just something special about having a meal like that, despite some people insisting that buffet food is just fine.” 

Harry let out a small grin. “Yeah, sorry about that. Last year was the last time, promise.” 

The teasing tone was familiar between the two of them, yet it didn’t last long before Harry drifted deep in thought. 

“It’s not that I don’t like cooking, it’s just- well. I’m rather shit at talking about these things,” he untangled his hand from Draco’s and shoved it in his pockets. Draco let him, knowing his posture meant that he’s working his way to saying something important. 

“My aunt and uncle had meals like that too. They’d invite their friends and leave the children to play outside with Dudley while the adults talked. And Aunt Petunia...she always made sure I knew how to prepare for dinners like that. Sometimes I’d watch from the kitchen window and envy the kids playing in the yard.” 

It was much more than Harry told Draco beforehand that was for sure. They had their talks about the war and the effects it had on the both of them, but whenever they touched upon Harry’s childhood, he’d just explained that they were not the nice people who took them in as the public portrayed. He’d always left it at that saying that it was in the past. But now Harry was working up the courage to tell him specifics. It left a warm fuzzy feeling inside Draco’s chest and he extended an arm to touch Harry as a silent appreciation of trust. 

Slowly, Harry relaxed and intertwined their fingers again. 

“I choose not to cook mainly because I don’t have fond memories of doing it. My aunt would always have something to say, even though eventually I got pretty good at making food. She just did it out of habit, I think.” 

“Your family sounds like they were an arse.” They stopped walking and Draco turned to face Harry. “It’s alright if you’re not going to cook in the future. Just know that I love you and appreciate it that you’re choosing to share this with me.” 

He leaned in and the pair shared a nice slow kiss before parting and heading back. 

The next day, Harry was in charge of taking care of dinner, since Pansy flooed earlier asking for Draco’s help in some last minute shopping. 

“I swear Pans! Didn’t you learn anything from Christmas last year?” he huffed at the busy streets of Diagon Alley, “Melin, I’m not even sure if most of the shops are open!” 

So for the next few hours they went from shop to shop looking for Salazar knows what. Pansy was a very selective gift giver and everytime Draco made a suggestion she shot him down. 

“This is made with opals from Australia Pansy! I don’t understand how your friend would not like that!” 

“Hmm,” she browsed through the display cases in the shop, “I think she’d rather have a nice rock honestly. It doesn’t have to be Australian, but stones and crystals are rather in right now…” 

When it was time to go home he was feeling quite exacerbated with his friend. Pansy, in all their hours of shopping, only bought one object. 

“You still realize that I have a flat to set up right? And I’ll have to place a break proof charm on everything, knowing all the Gryffindors in our group.” Why couldn’t Harry be in Slytherin like the sorting hat wanted, honestly!  Pansy just gave him a small salute as they parted ways. Tosser. 

When he returned home, however, a delicious smell was coming from the kitchen. 

“Harry?” He made his way into the room and was greeted with the sight of his lover pulling out a roasting pan, fresh from the oven. His eyes widened as he looked over all the dishes on the countertop. The assortment of appetizers and side dishes made his mouth water. He honestly thought that Harry was going to order from the deli just like he planned, but this was by far a thousand times better. Suddenly he knew why Pansy dragged him out all afternoon. 

“I seriously can’t believe I didn’t see this sooner! Plotting with my best friend behind my back Potter? How Slytherin of you.” 

Harry laughed as he placed the roasting pan on the counter before taking away the aluminum foil on top revealing a nice baked ham. “Yeah, when I told her I wanted to surprise you she went for it straight away. She said she felt sorry for you the other day, and you should be glad she took pity upon you because now you have that dinner you wanted.” 

“That sounds like Pansy alright,” Draco rolled his eyes but let out a fond smile. He knew Harry revealed that he already had some culinary experience, but he hadn't anticipated this. Although now that he thought about it, if he had to go back to school and was told to recreate a calming draught potion, his muscle memory would guide him through it. It seemed like Harry hadn't lost his touch on cooking either. 

“Would you like a walk through the menu tonight?” Harry smiled as he set his oven mitts aside. 

Draco nodded as Harry pulled up the first appetizer. “So these are drunken peaches with bits of goat cheese and prosciutto tucked in phyllo pastry.”  

He presented another dish that looked like mini sandwiches with tiny toothpicks speared through. “Here’s some grilled peach caprese with mozzarella and basil topped with a basic balsamic.” 

He pulled up the salad bowl, “Fig salad with greens, goat cheese, and walnuts marinated with oil, vinegar, and honey.”

He moved on, “And here’s some roasted asparagus wrapped in prosciutto served with a hint of parmesan and drizzled with olive oil.” 

Draco couldn’t resist taking one and plopping it in his mouth. “You know that asparagus is my favorite.” 

Harry smiled fondly, “I know.”

He pulled up another plate, “That’s why I had to use it in another dish as well.” 

It was a smaller dish than the ones Harry showed him beforehand, yet it still looked amazing. “Smoked salmon with poached eggs, roasted asparagus, basil pesto, and dill topped with olive oil.” 

He pushed another plate forward. At the center was a type of bread surrounded with an assortment of crackers on the plate. “Baked brie and apricot preserves wrapped with puff pastry and a hint of honey.” 

Another dish, “Golden roasted potatoes with chopped garlic, rosemary, and other spices.” 

“Your classic mashed potatoes and gravy boat.” Harry winked, and Draco laughed. Harry really liked his potatoes, so it was no surprise that he’d prepare two types. 

“Then all we have left is the honey baked ham and dessert for later on.” He shrugged like he didn’t just make enough food to feed the whole Weasley clan. 

“Oh?” Draco prompted as he slid closer to his lover, “And what’s for dessert?” He gave him a heated look.

Harry easily accepted Draco’s embrace as he leaned in. 

“You could choose between a mini chocolate lava cake paired with a raspberry sorbet,” Harry teased the shell of his ear causing Draco to shiver before moving downwards, “or a vanilla chiffon cake with a fresh berry puree topped with a blueberry cream cheese frosting,” Harry muttered against his lips as he pulled Draco closer. Sweet Salazar, that shouldn’t have sounded better than the earlier dishes, but it did. 

Draco smirked, “And if I choose you?” 

Harry grinned, “That can be arranged.” 

Draco teasingly dragged his lips across Harry’s before connecting them sweet and slow. Things were just getting more heated when their floo flared. 

“Eww mate. I will never get used to that, ever,” Ron grimaced as Hermione came through behind him. Draco was really regretting their open floor plan right now, but accepted one last kiss from Harry before making their way over to greet their friends. 

“Honestly Ron. It’s been years,” she accepted a hug from her best friend. “Dinner smells lovely by the way.” 

“Yeah! Did Harry finally get to cooking or did you two find a new catering place or something,” the four of them moved into the kitchen. 

Draco raised an eyebrow. “You guys knew that Potter cooked?” 

“Well, there was that whole year we spent together in a tent,” Hermione replied, “Someone had to be the designated cooker, otherwise Ron would’ve gone insane.” 

“Hey!” Ron protested but didn’t disagree.

Harry rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I finally got to cooking. But you should’ve seen when Draco attempted it at first!” 

“A Malfoy cooking? What, has the world finally come to an end or something,” Ron joked and earned a small nudge from Draco. 

“It really wasn’t that bad,” he protested but in truth, he knew it was. 

Harry smirked at him. “Did I tell you how the fire department came the other day? The neighbors were seriously concerned about Draco burning the apartment complex down.” 

“Shut up Potter!” 

Harry grinned and couldn’t help but challenge him. “Make me,” he moved closer. 

Ron let out a groan, “Ok Mione. Time to move back to the living room yeah?” 

Harry let out a laugh as he watched Hermione lecture Ron about letting them have their moment. 

He and Draco remained in the kitchen as they started to set up a bit more, waiting for their other guests to arrive, just enjoying each other’s company. 

“Harry,” Draco prompted after a while. 

“Yes Draco?” He looked up from the napkins he was just setting down. 

Draco smiled before placing the silverware down to join him. “Thanks for cooking for me.” He gave him a chaste kiss. 

When he pulled back Harry couldn’t help his reply, “Always.” 

[real-jaune-isms]

RWBY Volume 8 Chapter 1 Review/Rundown

This volume is off to a STRONG start if I may say so myself. No big action scenes, nothing to get the blood boiling or freezing over yet, but this is just the first chapter and we have a lot of dreadful stakes and danger ahead of us. This is a setup premiere, and it promises us pain and stress like nothing before. And we’ve all been conditioned to the point that we actually look forward to that. What we got is plenty good, so why not dig in to this succulent appetizer?~

Right off the bat, we get something we knew we wanted but never quite realized how much we needed... A young black haired woman on her knees scrubbing a wood floor. Bandages on one of her fingers and right wrist, modest clothing, and so very little soul to be seen in her amber eyes. Ladies, gentlemen, and that technicolor rainbow in between, we are getting our first look at Cinder’s troubled Cinderella-style past. It’s just this one floor washing scene for now, but we see present day Cinder’s Grimm fingers scratching into the chair in front of her with the same rhythm so we can be pretty confident it’s really her. Hopefully we will get more as the volume progresses, especially with the opening showing her seem to be having trouble controlling her powers. Neo is flying an airship directly up to the giant whale, whom I will continue to nickname Monstro. Concerned by all the other Grimm flying around it, she nevertheless flies along its side and we find there are handily carved out landing pads for ships. Guess Salem modded this beast to be her mobile base. As Neo apprehensively follows Cinder up a staircase, we see these modifications include a throne which the Grimm queen is sitting in awaiting their arrival. This is Neo’s first time actually seeing the woman behind the dark curtain, and I don’t think she was expecting this. What she may have expected even less was that the prideful psychopath Cinder would actually bow down to this woman. Yet bow she does, and Salem greets her with smug condescension, asking if she’s lived up to the responsibility expected of her as Salem’s vessel for the maidens. Has she done as asked and brought a worthy gift for her goddess? Indeed she has, she’s brought her the Relic of Knowledge... and claims she acquired it all by herself, throwing all of Neo’s hard work out the window so she can have all the glory. [Neo will remember that...] But certain poisonous arachnids are unimpressed, as Tyrian emerges from the shadows to say that taking anything from Ironwood is less of a show of Cinder’s skill and more a sign of the General’s incompetence. With a dig pointed seemingly at both Cinder and Neo, he points out that James was not the first person to be outsmarted by Team RWBY and their friends. But unlike Volume 4, Cinder has her voice and claps back at Tyrian, reminding him that according to the Atlesian military radio chatter he too was outdone by Ironwood’s allies. So was Watts, for that matter, and which of them managed to get away unscathed again? Certainly not the good Doctor, and Tyrian agrees that he was a... necessary sacrifice. Speaking of, he sees Cinder brought a fresh face that could be kindling for the fires of their crusade. Salem finally acknowledges that yes, there is someone here she didn’t recruit herself, and she demands an explanation from Cinder. The Fall Maiden of course explains that Neo has powers that will be very useful to them, but refers to her only as an asset, not even a subordinate or teammate. [Neo will remember that...] 

And speaking of the “tools” Cinder has collected, in come Emerald and Mercury in fresh new outfits! I think they both look pretty good, and I especially like Merc’s new jacket with his winged boot emblem on the left side. Emerald looks quite fashionable and I like the necklace, but there’s still a lot of exposed skin for being in Atlas... Of course, some things never change and she excitedly rushes to Cinder’s side, only to be shut down with a single gruff word. Speaking of gruff, Hazel is here with a new look too. His hair’s been shortened/combed back and he has what I can really only describe as a tank top with the sleeves torn open all the way down to near the waist, that shows off the muscles and scars on his arms and up the sides of his torso. It’s a tough look, but again not very winter weather savvy, and I miss the wild man look he had before. Regardless of the new looks, Tyrian has the same old criticisms of Emerald’s loyalty to the ever so incompetent Cinder. He and Watts rained hell (and very cold snow) on Mantle and threw Atlas into chaos, while Cinder merely fixed her mistake from Haven instead of getting new Maiden powers here in Atlas. She blames Penny for that setback, and mark her words she will be going back to rend her limb from mechanical limb to get the Winter Maiden powers... except she won’t be. Salem has decreed no such action, and it seems clear she won’t be doing so for a good while. Cinder tries to object, but Salem exerts her control over Monstro merely by touching her throne and sending a glowing pulse through the entire throne room. Cinder needs to be reminded of the big picture and her very small place in it, so Salem makes a window. This is a game of chess, and Cinder should count herself lucky to even be considered above a pawn. She is still a tool for Salem to use in her own victory, and the only thoughts she should have are how to achieve what Salem tells her to do. Cinder seems to resign herself to this fate a bit, and says that she is indeed nothing without Salem’s help. In a sense, you do have to sympathize with Cinder’s situation. Clearly her childhood had her in a situation where she was forced to do as told and not given much praise or appreciation for it. She probably sided with Salem because she was promised more power than she could have ever dreamed, but now she’s back being stuck in a position of servitude and abuse. And she does what she can to feel strong and in control: pass on that abuse to her own minions. And poor Emerald does not deserve it. At least Mercury has enough self confidence to know he wants to be his own man in all this, and he seems to have the ambition to try and work his way up the ladder for more earned respect. Still, back to Cinder, she’s clearly conditioned to fear any reproach from Salem. Quieted at a raise of her hand, as if knowing that the witch could take away the maiden magic in an instant and she’d be left with nothing again, and just as easily dismissed with a passive wave. To be fair though, that was for everyone, and the others know what she can do to people who piss her off so they scram too. She ominously turns to take the lamp somewhere, but we’ll check in on that at the end. 

For now, we go down down down to a shanty town in Mantle. It’s clearly the slums for Faunus mine workers in the crater, and among them we see a familiar face. Oscar!! He’s sitting by a fire staring off in deep thought, until an old man with badger hands pushes a bowl in his direction and wordlessly indicates for him to sip some. Idk if it’s a hot soup or something, from the view inside we get it looks to just be water but that could be unintended, but Oscar is thankful. No sooner does the old fella walk away than Ozpin pipes in to tell Oscar to be on guard. An airship swoops in overhead, and most of the faunus scurry away (no pun intended). Oscar stands defensively, but the door opens to reveal Ruby!! She and Weiss came to get him, though I don’t know how they found out where he was, and Maria is flying. He gets onboard and we get an aerial shot of snowfall over Mantle followed by a much less pleasant sight. Sabyrs are still getting in through the holes in the wall, and Manticores still swoop through the skies. Oscar berates himself for thinking Ironwood would listen to reason, for so many of his choices ending up being wrong ones, and he clearly blames the current situation at least partially on himself. We see that current situation as people on the streets below continue to huddle around burning trashcans and wood piles for warmth. Ironwood seriously still hasn’t done anything to try and get Mantle’s heat back? Of course he hasn’t, he’s going to abandon them, what was I thinking? Ruby reassures Oscar that he did what he thought was the right thing, they all did. What’s important is that he’s still here. It might just be how hyped up for a certain posse of do-gooders a certain Miss @kdinjenzen has been getting a lot of us over the last few months, but I was genuinely excited to see Joanna Greenleaf come out from around the corner of a building and gesture Maria to land. She rushes the group inside a building and shoots down a camera drone that was about to turn around and spot them before heading in herself. We see sooner than hear May Marigold, coordinating civilian transportation efforts over comms while leaning over a kitchen stove. She’s sending Fiona to transport some folks from one of the sectors on a map we don’t get to see... to the crater. Oh boy, that’ll be something to get into in just a minute. Our girls and boy walk past her into a restaurant dining room. Guess non-essential services really were shut down due to this crisis... okay yeah that’s too topical. The other half of Team RWBY, as well as JNR, Penny, and Pietro, are sitting around tables idly waiting until they hear the doors open and their friends return. All eyes are on the farmboi, and Nora is the first to rise from her chair with a small smile. Oscar braces himself for an energetic tackle hug, or whatever he thinks Nora would be likely to do, but she just walks over and give him a gentle embrace. The poor kid definitely needed that. Ruby and Weiss smile from the sidelines, one of the only shots the two of them share much to my aching shipper’s heart. But it’s fine, this is a time from group joy and union. Blake voices the concerns everyone had for Oscar’s fate when he had run off to confront Ironwood alone, how they feared the worst. Weiss of course is the one to ask how in the world he got all the way down to the slums, but he avoids the question by saying its a long story, and clearly not the only one based on Penny being with them. Internally, Ozpin questions him on not telling the group that he has reemerged in his mind, but Oscar says the two of them have more to discuss first. Instead, he notes the absence of a certain sobering up bird, and that puts a frown on most of the group’s faces. Ruby says they don’t know, last they heard he was with Robyn, but beyond that no news apparently reached them. Clearly they fear he’s dead, and cannot begin to imagine he’s been accused of murder. We only infer this of course, because the convo is cut short by Joanna coming into the room to talk shop. They’re all reunited, now its time to put the group to work helping the people of Mantle. No heat, no military help, just Grimm hovering over the city in a horde unlike any they’ve seen before. Those people need help, and they are huntsmen and huntresses with the skills to provide that help. Ren is the one to question “How?” Ironwood’s not letting people up into Atlas anymore, and Salem’s forces around the perimeter have made escape from the city impossible. Joanna’s solution is to look down, to the crater right under Atlas. It’s not safe, but it’ll be warm and they can better protect everyone if they’re all gathered in one place. The teens seem hesitant, I might even say incredulous, but she assures them that May will send them where they are needed and with their skilled numbers it will be that much safer for the civilians. Their priority needs to be getting everyone into the crater by nightfall, because she believes they’ll stand more of a chance in the slums. As Joanna heads out the door, Weiss gripes that they’ll never sleep again with how busy they’re going to be, but Joanna retorts that you’re either helping or you’re baggage.

I have... some thoughts about the Happy Huntresses’ plan. Yes, evacuation of the cold city seems like a great idea, and getting everyone in a single easy to defend place is sound strategy. But there’s some Atlas sized problems with their choice of location to evacuate to, and I do realize they may not even be aware of the potential genocide they’re setting up. Salem wants the staff, which is currently in use holding up Atlas. If she takes it, as she so clearly intends to do, Atlas will fall. Atlas will fall back into the crater it rose from, where thousands of people are gathered. That is a big SQUISH that I really don’t want to see happen. I get that Joanna, May, and Fiona may not know about the Relic, I doubt even Robyn knows. But we the audience do, and that dramatic irony has us all wincing prematurely at what grim future we hope will not come to pass. Hopefully it won’t come to that, so let’s go back to what conversations are actually being had.

Yang steps up and says that they need to get out there and help the people of Mantle, but Ruby objects and says they need to do what they can for the sake of everyone. Her first thought is on getting Amity launched like Ironwood had initially planned, so the whole world can be warned about Salem being on the attack. They need help, cuz as it stands Mantle and Atlas do not have this handled. Blake, somewhat surprisingly, agrees with Ruby rather than Yang. The Happy Huntresses have a plan for Mantle’s evacuation, they’ve got that under control while these folks worry about the bigger picture. But, Yang points out, Amity isn’t actually finished and ready to be launched. Ruby considers that and turns to the smartest man in the room for an estimate on what it would take to launch Amity at this point. I’m unsure if she means send it up in its incomplete state or power through the process during this crisis to get it 100% complete before then also launching it in the midst of this warzone. Pietro admits they had made some strides in terms of construction and collecting fuel, “all potentially manageable”, so maybe that means it’s close enough to the completed product they had first planned that it can get done as things are now. Or maybe it means that with what they’ve already done its just good enough that they could probably send it up and it’d be okay? Either way, the biggest problem is actually launching it. They need it to be granted clearance from Ironwood’s terminal before it can be launched, such was the nature of its design. Yang rightfully points out the General isn’t about to give that clearance willingly, so this is a fools errand. But Ruby is thinking outside the box about the specific phrasing, and realizes they don’t need the man’s approval, just access to his terminal so they can grant the clearance themselves. That too would be suicide, requiring getting back into the academy... or does it? Pietro reveals there’s another useable terminal, within the main Atlesian military compound at the base of the city. You know, the very bottom of this floating fortress city, surrounded by airships and security drones. Even once inside, there’s a lot of hoops to jump through, more than the good Doctor can wrap his head around in this moment. Oscar notes how this is very convoluted for apparently being the easier option, but Yang rebuttals that it’s straight up impossible and pointless, not to mention they can’t guarantee any help would even come upon hearing the message. This is more than Ruby can take, and she snaps back at her sister. It’s not pointless if it’s warning the rest of the world that Salem will be coming for them next. They need to send this warning.

This is when Yang gets... personal. She brings up the rest of the team’s decision to defer to Ruby’s leadership once they got to Atlas, and how things took a real nosedive soon after that. It’s clear that she’s implying Ruby’s decisions were the reason for their situation being as bad as it is, and you can see the pain on Ruby’s face as that hits her. Some upset looks on the others’ faces show they may have thought similarly but never would have actually said so. Ren steps up and says that helping the evacuation in Mantle is a feasible action they can take here and now rather than a longshot hope. We had seen a short sequence of Yang running through the daylit streets of Mantle on this mission to evacuate groups, and now Ren is in the scene at her side to signify which mission he’s going to take. Likewise, his face visibly saddens as we hear Nora take Ruby’s side about this not just being a matter of helping Atlas, it’s about warning the other three kingdoms so they can prepare for what’s coming. And with that we see her on the rooftop with Ruby where she had been looking up at the base of Atlas. Jaune is thankfully a neutral voice of reason who says they have the numbers to be able to do both, but Ruby is really worried that being divided like this is what Salem wants. Oscar has gotten wiser from his time with Oz in his head, and points out that the division Salem really wants is emotional, not always physical. Disagreements and arguments like this are what she wants, so they need to realize they can be a united group of cooperating minds while still splitting up to accomplish different goals. Penny... has a depressing third option. Let her deliver the Staff to Salem now and hope it will make her leave Atlas before things get worse. Oscar says they really can’t trust Salem to actually do that, and that as soon as she uses it to create anything else... down drops Atlas. Yang acknowledges that at the very least they can all agree turning Penny over to any other forces will not be happening.

Ruby resigns herself to leading a small squad instead of the full team, and asks if Pietro can help them get up to the terminal. He acknowledges they WILL need someone to bypass security, but Penny is the one to offer. I’d like to note that this whole time she’s been almost lifelessly facing away from the group and staring directly forward, and her voice has been bereft of any emotion or enthusiasm. For the cheerful person she normally is, this is heartbreaking to hear. Pietro tries to raise objections, saying she’s too valuable for them to risk anything happening to her, but she looks over her shoulder and firmly repeats herself, Maiden fire burning around her eyes. I get why Pietro is a bit overprotective of his daughter, she was destroyed once and emotionally scarred during Volume 7, plus she now has powers they absolutely can’t afford to lose the use of. But she is her own girl and needs to be able to make her own choices. Coddling her like this won’t help, especially now. Yang accepts this decision with a sigh and heads for the door to start getting down to business. Blake watches her go with a rather pained look, and we see a similar one on Weiss’ face as Yang passes behind her. Team RWBY is splitting up again, and they’re worried. Understandable. Pietro stops her at the door and tosses her a set of keys, which we transition to seeing in that same hand as she’s back in the daytime alleyway with Ren. We pan over to see Jaune and Oscar decided to go with them, and hear Pietro explain there’s some new tools back at his pharmacy that he had been working on for them before the crisis. From the promotional clip we got a few months ago, we know this means the hover bikes.

Heard but not seen is Ren asking Nora where she intends to go, and she affirms she’s sticking with Ruby. Of all people, she had been the one who was the most passionate about helping Mantle, so he asks her about it now, but she says that she’s absolutely saving Mantle. Because she actually believes Ruby’s plan can be done, and so we go back to seeing her on the roof, now joined by Weiss and Blake. Blake reassures Ruby that the group hasn’t been divided where it counts, but Ruby has concerns. Maria chimes in on comms to affirm that she’ll be taking Pietro up to Amity to finish what he can, but that leaves RWBNP without a way up to Atlas. Weiss starts to say she’s got that covered, but is interrupted by someone’s Scroll ringing. Blake, Ruby, and Nora all check theirs, but it turns out it’s Penny who’s getting a call... from General Ironwood. She hesitantly answers, and as soon as Ironwood’s voice comes through Nora starts scowling. Ruby seems rather neutral, but as Ironwood goes on with his very evenly toned request that Penny tell him where she is because he’s worried for her safety and wants to come pick her up, her eyes narrow. She’s been in an abusive relationship before, she recognizes gaslighting. Ironwood says that Atlas needs Penny since Salem is here. Before she can say anything, Ruby comes to her side and puts a supportive hand on her shoulder as she takes her Scroll. Penny’s not going anywhere, she says, not until Ironwood sees the error of his plans and change his mind about helping Mantle. It was a longshot, but at least she went for it. Ironwood starts losing his cool as he berates Ruby for still being hung up on saving Mantle when Atlas is the last hope Remnant has at salvation and Salem’s gathering forces are primed to destroy it. Unless Penny comes back and helps send it high into the sky. If she doesn’t, and Salem gets through their defenses, what comes next will be Penny’s fault. THIS is straight up psychological torment, he is manipulating her and dodging all blame for his actions by pinning them onto a poor girl already going through a crisis of identity. What absolute fucking garbage you are, James Ironwood. Penny retreats into Ruby’s arms, and she embraces her sympathetically. 

But enough of these poor suffering kids, let’s get some poor suffering adults. In an Atlas medical facility, what’s left of the Ace Ops are looking at the corpse of their leader lying cold and pale on a mortuary slab. Marrow is the only one who seems genuinely sad, Elm and Harriet just grumpy. To be fair, that anger could be pointed inward cuz they’re mad they weren’t there to help him in his time of need. Or maybe Ironwood told them that apparently Qrow did it, and they’re pissed they can’t kill him in revenge. Across the hall, Ironwood is watching them from Winter’s hospital room. The doctors have her left arm in a high tech looking cast, maybe it can speed up the healing beyond our normal medical science? Or maybe it’ll boost her strength so she can power through the pain and keep on fighting for the General and his crusade? I was initially worried they replaced the whole arm, given Ironwood’s tendency to substitute cyborg tech for his own human flesh in the event of great damage. Case in point, his burned up hand got the Skywalker treatment. But no, I think this really is just a cast. As Ironwood inspects his new sleek black limb, and the doctors test what Winter is currently capable of with her arms in the condition they’re in, a guard arrives to tell them some prisoners have arrived and are being processed in Stockade B. As the doctors test her right wrist for any tendon pains, and indeed there are some pains, she asks if the prisoners are in fact Robyn and Qrow the soon to be jail birds. He asks the doctors to leave the room, which they do, and Winter assures him she’ll be fine, though her inability to make a fist without pain says otherwise. As someone who got tendonitis in my wrist after a bad scrape on my bicycle, I know that pain. Ironwood thanks Winter for her dedication, and confides that faced with such unprecedented Grimm numbers he wouldn’t know what to do without her. Their hard light shields will hold the Grimm off, but only temporarily. FIRST OF ALL, you have enough money and resources for Hard Light Dust, the rarest and most expensive kind, to be shielding the entire kingdom... but not enough money to give Mantle a decent heating grid that’s not dependent on the SDC????? Or literally anything else that might have helped them now???? Eat the rich and defund the police, folks. Speaking of hot-button political statements, before he can answer Winter’s question about what he plans to do his musings are interrupted by his fellow council members Sleet and Camilla barging in demanding to talk to him. Mass evacuations, declaring martial law? They have several very pressing questions for him, but Ironwood has gone into tunnel vision and says he will be doing everything he can to defend the kingdom, no matter the cost to him or those around him. And he makes that abundantly clear as he strides out of Winter’s room and wordlessly shoots Sleet for daring to call him scared. Judging from Camilla’s screech and the looks on Elm and Marrow’s watching faces, it was fatal. This man is straight up executing his critics, but we kinda already knew this was gonna happen after he shot Oscar off the cliff. Clearly, Camilla will be too scared for her own life to speak up against Ironwood ever again. As the General strolls away, Winter and Harriet share a look through the open door. Harriet seemed shocked, but almost resigns herself to this. She’s in too deep, and as long as she’s loyal she’s got nothing to fear. Winter, on the other hand, let her sister go out into the world as Ironwood’s enemy. Not only is she worried Weiss will be in her boss’s crosshairs, but if he finds out she let her get away with the Winter Maiden then she might be executed for insubordination.

Finally, we get the tearing dripping shot of a portion of Monstro opening to reveal Salem holding the Lamp. Looking into it, she muses how she has questions she wants answered, but she needs the key to how to ask them first. To that end, she holds the Relic out in front of a mystery Grimm that emerged from the fleshy cage she just opened. It gets a good smell of the Lamp, and she instructs it to bring her the man who can show her how to get what she seeks. Oscar is in serious danger...

And so that’s it for Chapter 1! A strong start that doesn’t fill me with despair just yet but is definitely setting up some ways for me to really feel the aster down the line. I won’t review the opening much, because those are usually really abstract and vague about what’s actually gonna happen. We see there may be another encounter between Weiss and Winter now that they’re on opposite sides, and Watts seems to still be up to trickery. Ren and Nora miss each other, and things look particularly bad for Team RWBY. Also we get serious “Penny getting hacked and going evil” vibes, and I really don’t want such a horrible thing to happen to that mecha cinnamon roll. Looks like Oscar really will get captured, and maybe Salem can change her form a little since she has big cool bat wings as she looms over him. The song will take some getting used to, but it slaps hard and Casey is giving it 100% so that’s good enough for me.

Thanks thanks thanks for bearing with me for this long ass post, but I hope you got some joy from it.

[rideboldlyride]

Perfect: Chapter 8

Like the Waves (Back and Forth)

Ao3 Link Here!

Zuko,

So I guess I should start now, huh? I mean, it’s only been a few days, but I have to start somewhere. We just skimmed Kyoshi Island, landing in Chin Village. Did I ever tell you about this place? They had planned to boil Aang in hot oil at one point. Now they have this day where they eat raw dough in celebration of … not…. boiling him? I’ll have to tell you the whole story in person one day. 

Anyway.

Chin Village is the first stop on our little crusade, it seems, since Toph already found the Triad here. (That girl has got a nose for sniffing them out). We followed them, but so far it’s been a pretty uneventful trip. I’ll have to wait to write when there’s actually something interesting to write about…

***

Dark. Black. Flash of inky nothingness flies through the air.

A heavy splash, followed by a guttural grunt. The sound of cloth whipping through the air. Followed by footsteps.

Men’s voices echoed down the hall, angry, confused. Moonlight streams through the windows, being caught up in an unnatural fog.

Silence eats up the heavy tread. 

Loud crash. Like a spirit of the damned, a beast straight from the Spirit World descends upon the throng. 

The screams are swallowed up by the night. Red, brown, blue, and water. So much water. The men could drown on the dry ground.

They fall like dead bugs around the phantom. 

One is still conscious, cowering.

“The Painted Lady…” his voice is reverant, trembling. 

“Where are you taking the children?”

***

… I seriously wish there was more to tell. The little bit of information I was able to snoop out of what Toph found seems to point us to Gaoling. She’s… not exactly pleased about it. I don’t think she’s talked with her folks in a while. I guess we’ll see if she’ll talk to them now. 

Doubt it.

How are the new settlement talks going? I heard you are playing a big role in that. I know I’m not really in any position to help, but if you want a fresh set of eyes, I’ll be happy to help.

Hope this letter finds you safe and as sane as being the Fire Lord is going to keep you.

Katara

***

Katara,

I’m surprised that you haven’t been up to mischief. That doesn’t quite sound like you. I guess I’ll have to take your word.

Sounds like Chin Village was going to be a quick stop. It’s a pretty small village, isn’t it? My Earth Kingdom geography is a little rusty. 

Aang boiled in oil- I don’t think I’ve heard that story before. 

I’m surprised to hear that Toph hasn’t seen her parents in a while. Well, maybe not surprised. But definitely sad to hear it. Let me know if there’s anything I can do to smooth any interactions. The Bei Fong’s and I have crossed paths multiple times, and they seem to listen to me. Do you know what direction you’re heading in, once you get to Gaoling? That is a bit of a step up from Chin Village. 

The settlement talks are going about as well as you might expect. Kuei thinks that the islands belong to his kingdom (or at least, his advisors do), and yet my advisors tell me there’s evidence of an old Fire Nation village there. I’m not exactly sure how far to push the issue - it’s a bit of a touchy subject, when my people are involved.

I’ve been trying to do some pushing on my end, about the Triad. I’m sad to report that I’m not getting very far…

***

A ring of steel on steel echoed through the alleyway. The grimace on the strained man’s face was hardly a match for the grotesque twist of a face on the spectre’s mask. At that moment, the opponent was doubtful of the nature of the man before him. 

Earlier, inside the building they had vacated, one of his gang mates had laid a blade’s edge upon the black skin of the spirit before him and drawn red blood. He had sworn that a man’s voice had bit out a muffled curse at the action. But as the blue and white mask leaned in, there was no sign of a man’s presence behind it. No hint of skin, no rush of breath. Just heat, unbearable, aggressive heat. With a twist, the man felt his blade slip through his fingers and clatter down the street. 

A pair of dao blades intersected before his throat. 

When he swallowed heavily, his Adam's apple scraped the blade’s edge painfully. One blade was removed, and with a switch of a grip, it came tumbling back down, it’s butt meeting the side of his skull. He plummeted into the darkness.

Over his body, the Blue Spirit stood tall. Returning his blades to his sheath, he bent down, patting down the pockets of the man unconscious before him. A sound caught his attention, and with a deft hand he withdrew a small piece of parchment from a pocket. Unravelling it, he scanned it before slipping it into a private pocket of his own. 

With one more look down at the man unconscious before him, he hefted him over his shoulder and disappeared into the night.

The next morning, he would be found bound, with a fresh piece of parchment pinned to his front, showing evidence of the small cell of the Triad in the region near the Fire Nation capital, discarded before the Head of the Guard of the city.

***

… But this does not mean I have given up trying. Anything you need help with, Katara, please, just let me know. 

By the time this reaches you, I’m sure you’ll be in Gaoling. Please be safe. I don’t think I want to explain to Sokka why his baby sister is being held by a group of gangsters. 

Speaking of Sokka, I hear that they’re planning to visit in the next few months. I won’t lie, I’m excited to see them. There’s something empty to this palace without you all here.

Be safe. 

Zuko.

***

Oh Great and Fiery One, 

Hi.

Sorry, couldn’t help myself. 

Those settlements, Zuko, how old are the remnants? I can understand why you’re nervous to push anything with Kuei, but if they belong to your people… If they’re old remnants, it might just make sense to strike a deal for some archaeological dig but if not- if they’re just from before the war, then why would Kuei want the islands anyway?

I’m sorry to hear about your work on the Triad. I could’ve used the help. As it is, we’re chasing a bit of an enigma. So far the SB (that’s all I’m going to call her, since I don’t want this falling into the wrong hands) has remained elusive. There’s a whisper, but it’s a quiet one. Supposedly, this is the first place she emerged on the scene. According to what I’m finding, she hadn’t intended to be used by them. They just found her…

***

“I do not suffer fools or liars!” A voice like a dark demon split the air, and the man before her cowered in the fog at her feet. 

“I would never lie to a spirit - especially as powerful of a one as you, my Lady!” Lord Bei Fong was shivering.

“Then tell me who she is!”

“I don’t know!” He crooned, his voice wavering, as if on the edge of slipping into unconsciousness. “She was found here, yes! We brought her in, but when they came for her, we knew nothing about them or her!”

“You took her in? You, Bei Fong, are not known for your hospitality to the weak and needy.”

“She was no beggar.”

Anger spurred the spirit closer. Red lips curled in disgust as she growled out her words. “Then who was she?!”

“Someone of rank -- that’s all I know!” He threw himself to his knees, prostrate, arms covering his head. There was no more to be known as to the Spirit Bridge’s identity, but maybe she could identify where she was taken to.

“Where did they take her?”

“North - North and east. I don’t know where exactly.”

The Painted Lady straightened, blue eyes glinting in the light. “These thugs prevail on my patience, pry on my good will. Tell me all there is to know about the Triad.”

***

… and they used her. Sounds like she’s a prisoner more than an accomplice. But she’s going to have to go on hold for a few days. (hopefully only for that long. Gaoling is taking too long to comb through, and I’ve got a feeling my road leads to Omashu, at least, and I don’t want to be sidetracked for too long.) There’s a village, Linpan, that is currently being plagued, like Yomi was. It’s out in the middle of the plains, where there isn’t much of a lawful presence at all. I wonder over it’s condition, but it’s better not to concern myself too much till I get out there. 

I won’t lie, I already miss Sokka and Suki. And Yuka. I worry that I’m going to miss so much of her life. Maybe when it’s all said and done, I’ll go ahead and let Pakku set me up. Just so I can settle down. 

Who am I kidding?

Please send my love to my family. I’ll see you eventually. Be safe too, Zuko. 

Katara

***

Very funny.

You call me that again, and I won’t send you Sokka’s leftover seal jerky. 

You asked about the settlement: It’s from just prior to the war. The only real reason we’re trying to settle it is to search for the little bit that remains of the Fire Nation culture prior to the war. Most of the settlers planned for are historians. The rest are just to keep the historians afloat. I’ve tried explaining this to Kuei, but I’m beginning to wonder if his advisors are only bringing him their own narratives. 

Can I go chase bad guys with you?

This SB… she’s interesting. Her being a prisoner - that changes the dynamics in a lot of ways. And we know it’s a woman? I wish we could figure out her identity. It might help us in the long run. 

***

Pitter patter, pitter patter. 

It was an easy beat to fall into. Feet on ground, as light as the fall of the rain. Wet shale tiles were like ice in the rain. The spirit would have scaled it effortlessly. The man, instead, slipped and cursed, but managed to find his footing again. 

A chorus of yelps and hollers came from the rooftop just vacated. He ignored them and the pain shooting through his arm and shoulder. The Blue Spirit rounded the edge, jumped into an alley, slid down an old open-aired drain, and was gone. 

He had retrieved what he came for. The man behind the mask smiled victoriously.

***

So you’re headed to Linpan? If you come across anybody named Gansu, Sela or Lee,... I don’t know. Thank them from me? You might want to wait till the end of the visit to say that, though. What’s taking you out there, anyway? Last time I was there, some of the authorities were not the … friendliest. Please be careful, and don’t pick any fights.

Rather, don’t let Toph pick any fights.

When Sokka and Suki arrive, I’ll make sure to pass along your love. Have you been writing them?

Please, Katara, stay safe. This isn’t an easy quest you’ve taken on. I worry that you’re not telling me everything. 

Zuko.

***

Zuko.

Yes, I made that a sentence. 

If you’re going to self-project here, I want to be abundantly clear that I know you aren’t telling me everything. I’ll start spilling when you do.

It was a bit of insanity when I got here. Seems the Triad had just struck. Mostly snagged kids, from what I could tell, but a few women too. Went looking for that family you spoke of, but the town told me that Gansu didn’t make it back from the war. His oldest kid did, though - Sen Su. Unfortunately, Lee and Sela were a part of the ones taken.

Don’t worry, though. I think you know what happened next…

***

The wheat faded under to black and desiccated under her foot. 

Gold withered to black. Nutmeg and blood. Blue and brown. White billowed around the spectre’s feet, face. 

If there were footsteps, it was only the promise of death behind her. 

The men cowered, some of the more devout falling to their knees, lips trembling out unheard prayers. Close association with the spirits led powerful men to paranoia, a constant gaze over their shoulders.

Funny that, the spirit considered. If one kept his eyes over his shoulder, they were less likely to see the pit before them. 

Red lips curled. 

Villagers stood tall. Avenging spirits did not come for the innocent, they whispered to the children. The Painted Lady was the most righteous of them all.

But what of the Blue Spirit, the children responded. The mothers hushed them. It was improper to speak reverentially of a different spirit in the midst of an avenging one. 

With the slightest whisper of cloth, arms were raised, fingers curled like talons. The fog seemed to still, hovering. 

She rose -

She waited -

She descended.

***

Lee and Sela are back home, along with their friends. Before we left, I mentioned you. I don’t think you realize how much has changed since you left. They insisted that Toph and I stay with them another night. Lee asked if you still had your dao swords -- Zuko, you should come see them. 

This cell of the Triad isn’t going to be coming back anytime soon. I think Toph and I scared them enough that they’ll be having nightmares for at least a few months. Hopefully. I didn’t come here expecting to find anything out about the SB, but I actually did! She was in Omashu for a long time, even though she’s been moved since. I’m not quite sure where to, but I’ve got a sneaking sensation that I’ll be seeing the walls of Ba Sing Se before this is all over with. 

I’m surprised about the settlement. I can’t help but wonder if Kuei isn’t getting the full story. What can you do about it? Is there anything you can do about it?

As for being safe: I’m doing my best, Zuko. But I wouldn’t go around being high and mighty - I heard that you fended off another attempt, this time without Mai. I think you might be in more danger than me. 

Don’t let that happen again, unless I’m there, okay?

I miss you, Hotman. And … thank you. Thank you for insisting we write. It’s keeping me sane between the bouts of Toph’s snoring at night. 

I’ll see you soon, Zuko. 

Katara

***

Katara, 

How did you hear about that? I guess I forget that you write to other people too. As for your request, I’ll do my best. 

I’m glad to hear about Sela, Lee and Sen Su, but I won’t lie that it hurt to hear about Gansu. He was a very wise man, and it’s a loss to everyone who knew him. I’ll… try my best to come see them. That was an awkward time in my life, so I doubt it’ll be easy. 

It’s surprising to hear about the SB in Linpan. I’m guessing that this side quest of yours was to rout the trade routes they have. It’s just odd to find out crucial information from a little town in the middle of nowhere. Please be careful...

***

The dock rolled slowly in the surf. Bamboo mats swayed under foot. Inky darkness filled the gloom. In the black night, a devilish white grin flashed. Curled fangs snarled silently. The boat moored bumped slightly against the rafts, echoing an unearthly scrape across the soft waves. 

The phantasm stole up a plank. 

Silence long reigned in the dark. A sudden smack of skin on metal rang through the empty dock. A crash. A scuffle. A stuttering cry. 

The hatch opened without care, and a woman in practical nightwear stumbled out. In the silver of the moon’s light, the bronze at the apparition’s arms glinted, the white that lined it’s face glowed, the swords in its hands reflected like two slivers of the moon. A line of red ran down the very edge of one sword. 

It loomed over the woman, staring down coolly at her. Her mouth worked without a sound. A single blade point was shoved under her chin. She whimpered. 

“I’ll leave!” she shrieked. 

A blue face shot forward, their stance readying for action. The woman cowered even more. 

“The children, I’ll leave them here. I promise! Just don’t -- don’t hurt me!”

The black pits of emotionless eyes stared a moment longer at the woman. They nodded, pulling back and away. With the grace of many years of practice, the twin swords swirled about him, sliding into the sheath at his back. 

He stepped away, just in time to hear it. 

A loud cry echoed from the hatch. Holding a vase like a club, he brought it down on the Blue Spirit’s head. 

The dark clad figure stumbled, but only for a moment, bringing a small dagger from his boot across the man’s chest. A line of red blossomed there, only a slight wound, but the man staggered away, clutching at it. Something inhuman escaped the wraith and it rounded, something feral in their posture. 

For the first time, the Blue Spirit spoke, it’s voice like wood tumbling over stone. 

“Leave.”

The woman bolted to the side of the injured man, but turned wide gray eyes back at the Spirit. 

“Yes! We will! Forgive him his impudence!” She fell to her face, sobbing. “We’ll leave! We’ll go, and you’ll never see us again!” 

She continued to sob into the night, but the offended spirit she placated had long since disappeared.

***

Don’t make me have to come find you.

As for Kuei, I wouldn’t be surprised. We all know he has a tendency towards poor decisions in regards to advisors.

I’m trying to secure a time with him in the upcoming months. I need to make a run to Omashu myself. Bumi has got something he needs to show me, he says, but for all I know, it’ll be more gemmanite crystal in a new color. 

Maybe he’s perfected red?

Either way, he’s now going through White Lotus channels. It’s starting to frustrate Piandao, and that’s never a good thing. Who knows? Maybe we’ll cross paths there. 

(I hope we do. I’ve been missing you too.)

Zuko

***

They readied themselves on their Ostrich horses, a small pack strapped to the hind quarters of the beasts. Before them, the sun was beginning to peak over the horizon, sending the flat lands aglow. Katara shuffled before the ostrich horse, trying to steady herself for the rocking ride that always left her backside screaming the next morning. Toph, beside her, was a surprisingly comfortable rider, even if Katara had to lead them both, Toph’s ostrich tied to the back of her saddle. 

“Please be safe on your journeys, Miss Katara.” 

The young woman turned to the older, a smile pulling at her face. Sela handed over two packs - she could tell they were laden with food.

“Sela, please don’t. You three need the food more than Toph and I do.”

A hard look crossed her face, and the older woman’s hand did not falter. “Do not deny my hospitality, Katara.”

The look melted as the waterbender wrapped her up into a hug. “Thank you.” 

From the homestead, two young men walked out into the morning. Sen Su shook his head vigorously. “I’m pretty certain that we should be thanking you. I would have tried, but I doubt I could have gotten them back without your help.”

There hadn’t been much more to say, Katara felt, so with one more press of a hug to the family, she mounted the ostrich horse. 

“Make sure to write, okay?”

All three nodded. As she started to spur her mount, Lee shot forward, a look of concern on his face. 

“Oh! Miss Katara?” She turned a friendly smile to him, and he continued. “When - when you see the Fire Lord again, can you tell him that I’m sorry?”

“Sorry? Lee…,” Katara sighed, dismounting. She placed a hand on the young man’s shoulder. “Lee, Zuko is one of my closest friends --” Pointedly, Katara ignored Toph’s shot of laughter. “ -- so we write each other a lot. If I know Zuko at all, he would never feel that he deserved an apology for your behaviour. If anything, he’d be the one apologizing to you.”

“Still,” the young man pressed, “can you tell him for me?”

A wry smile tugged at the corner of her lips. “Yeah, Lee, I can do that.”

***

[beauregardlionett]

Queens of Queens - Ch. 3

AO3 Link

He wasn’t surprised when he stepped into the apartment at the end of the afternoon to find his near completed bench painted. It wasn’t painted one solid color, but swirling with vibrant, haphazard patterns of paisley and geometric shapes, sprawling flowers and cartoonish faces. Caduceus didn’t search for them, but he was certain there was at least one overly detailed dick painted in there somewhere.

Sighing fondly, the Firbolg shut the door behind himself and meandered over to the stove to start on a pot of tea. Much like the bench in their living room, Caduceus’ roommate had taken the liberty of giving their kitchen quite the makeover after they moved in. The walls were an attractive shade of yellow, the cabinets neatly colored a striking blue and detailed with various shades of reds and pinks. Caduceus’ overflowing collection of plants on every surface served to only increase the homey nature of the little kitchen. It was easy for the Firbolg to go about his business comfortably, pulling down a pair of mugs as the kettle heated on the stove.

The water was just starting to boil and whistle in the kettle when his roommate came flouncing into the kitchenette, skirts flying.

“Caduceus!” the little blue Tiefling cheered, her accent ringing bright through every syllable. Wrapping herself around his arm, she beamed up at him in greeting. “Welcome back!”

“Afternoon, Jester,” Caduceus drawled, smiling down at her. “Would you like some tea?”

“Ooh!” Jester peered around his arm, violet eyes shimmering. “What flavor?”

“Hibiscus,” Caduceus said, pouring steaming water into two mugs (he already had Jester’s pulled down from the cabinet in anticipation). Dropping a pre-made tea bag in each, Caduceus handed her the sparkling pink mug with a serene smile.

“I finished making some of these before I closed up. They’re the flowers I tried fertilizing with Sprinkle’s droppings. I think they turned out pretty well.”

Jester took a tentative sip, careful of the temperature, before grinning up at him. She put her mug down so she could hop around a little without spilling any. Twirling in a circle, her deep green skirt whirled around her, wrapping around her legs as she paused.

“It tastes great, Caduceus! I’m so glad Sprinkle could help!”

“He did a magnificent job,” Caduceus acknowledged, leaning his hips back against the countertop to sip at his own mug. “The flowers grew very well, and the aroma is very bold. He’s a natural.”

Jester devolved into giggles, scooping up her own mug as she snagged a muffin from the tray they had left sitting out by the stove this morning. Her blue cheeks were tinged purple with her delight, and it warmed the Firbolg to see.

They had been rooming together for near a year, and any misconceptions they were a poor fit were laid to rest near immediately. They got on like a house on fire, and it shocked everyone involved. Caduceus had met Jester’s mother the day they moved in, and the lovely Tiefling woman had eyed him with open suspicion. Her concern about her daughter’s well-being had been clear. But they had spent all of fifteen minutes getting to know each other—with Jester’s determined reassurances that Caduceus would be a great roommate—before Marion had eased up.

Now he sent his most loyal customer monthly loads of calming, aromatic tea blends.

“I see you found the bench I made,” Caduceus commented, gesturing to the living room. “It’s very colorful.”

“I know I said I would ask,” Jester began, pouting as she ducked her head bashfully. “But it was just so plain, and I couldn’t help myself.”

“That’s quite alright,” Caduceus reassured her, smiling amicably. “I told the customer you would likely paint it, so they’re expecting it. I think they’ll love it.”

That got Jester to perk up again, her tail flicking with excitement behind her as she took a swift bite of her muffin. “You really think so?” Jester asked through the crumbs falling out of her mouth.

“They would be foolish not to,” Caduceus said, smiling as he took another sip of tea. “I’m going to drop it off tomorrow afternoon. Would you like to come along? I’m sure they would love to meet the artist.”

Jester nodded enthusiastically, muffin crumbs falling from her lips as she chewed a bite through a smile. Setting her treat aside with her tea, the little Tiefling darted off toward her room, calling over her shoulder.

“Let me grab my paints! I have some finishing touches to put on!”

Chuckling again, long fingers wrapped securely around his steaming mug, Caduceus followed her. Settling into one of their worn out chairs in the living room, the Firbolg was content to watch on as Jester reappeared with her paints and brushes to continue her work.

A few minutes into her work, Jester piped up, eyes never straying from her brush.

“Oh, Mama called while you were out. She said that some of her customers were asking about your tea blends and would you be able to send over some more sachets for her to sell?”

“Of course I can,” Caduceus agreed, barely giving it a thought. “Anything for my most loyal customer and sometimes employee.”

Jester giggled as she swirled her brush through a bright, obnoxious green. She never said it, but Caduceus knew that it meant a lot to her that he was so willing to let Marion do things like this. Jester had told him that her mother was a bit of a recluse, her social anxiety unlike anything he had ever seen. That Marion had come all the way to New York to help Jester move in had apparently been a huge deal.

They continued to pass the time in peaceful quiet, Jester humming to herself as she worked and Caduceus sipping away at his tea. The afternoon shadows stretched as the evening grew old, and Caduceus only moved to turn on some lights when he got up to start dinner for them. Jester joined him in the kitchen about halfway through the process, washing the paint off her hands before offering to help.

The evening passed with quiet reverence, the pair content to have dinner and chat about nothing in particular. As they were cleaning up, Jester glanced at the clock on the oven and made a noise of surprise.

“I didn’t realize it was so late! I need to get going if I’m going to finish my painting in time.” Caduceus watched the little Tiefling flit around the apartment, changing her clothes in her room and reemerging to throw her painting bag together as she also tried to tug her boots on at the same time.

“Have fun, be safe,” Caduceus called their usual farewell from the kitchen as Jester laced her boots while walking. “I’ll wait up for you.”

Halfway out the door, Jester shouted back, “I promise to be back before midnight this time!”

The door shut loudly behind her, leaving Caduceus chuckling as he settled in more comfortably with his tea and the bench drying nearby.

--

There was a window seat in their apartment, a little nook gifted by architecture and circumstance that Molly had taken to overstuffing with blankets and pillows. Yasha rarely paid the seat any mind unless it was storming; then she would curl up there and watch the rain against the window, tracing raindrops and just observing.

However, there were rare mornings after sleepless nights that Yasha sat there to watch the sunrise over the buildings across the street. She curled among the pillows and tangled with the blankets and watched the sky turn every shade of dawn and just breathed.

“Mornin’ Yasha,” Molly called as they stumbled blearily from their room. She didn’t acknowledge their greeting beyond a quiet look, but Molly didn’t seem to mind. They went about putting on a pot of coffee before trundling into the bathroom.

Yasha kept watch over the dawn as the smell of warm coffee wafted through the living room.

Over the next few minutes, Molly reemerged from the bathroom, poured them both a mug of steaming coffee, and obnoxiously tucked themselves into the limited space on the window seat across from Yasha. It was times like these that her roommate reminded her far too much of a cat. Despite herself, Yasha smirked into her mug and pulled her feet a little closer to her so that Molly had room.

“I’ve still got some tea from Caddy if you want to sleep later,” Molly said, solid red eyes trained out the window. Yasha knew they were doing that thing where they acted as casual as possible about the topics they never breached so that Yasha might feel more at ease. She loved them for it, and one day she might consider returning that thoughtfulness with actual answers, but the morning sky and the bitter coffee on her tongue were not lending to her speech. So Yasha shook her head and sent Molly a grateful look from behind the rim of her mug.

They seemed to understand and fell silent, watching the sunrise with Yasha for far longer than strictly necessary. Molly tried to get Yasha to smile by poking her legs with their chilled toes, wriggling to get them into the warm crease of Yasha’s knee even as she bat gently at their attempts.

She was smiling small and fond by the time they untucked their stiff limbs from the window seat, and it was victory enough for Molly. Neither of them were very adept at cooking, but they hadn’t fucked up eggs and toast so far. Molly, however, was on probation from the stove after an attempt at pasta had gone very wrong. They stood guard over the toaster as it did all the work and watched Yasha scramble a decent helping of eggs in a pan.

“Unrelated topic,” Molly drawled casually and Yasha slid a suspicious look their way. Her gaze was met with a cheeky grin and sparkling eyes. “Are you ever going to stop pining after Beau and actually talk to her?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Yasha said stiffly, her cheeks flushing in betrayal.

Molly cackled and swiped the toast from the toaster the second it popped up. “Right. I must have imagined all those besotted glances on your end. And all those times Beau has called you hot and talked about your eyes when she thinks I’m not listening.”

Yasha’s hand froze where she pushed the eggs around in the pan with intent. Looking over at Molly again, she wasn’t fooled at all by their casual attempt at putting spread on the toast.

“She talks about me?”

Yasha sounded far more timid than she intended to, and her tone drew Molly’s attention. Their teasing expression melted into something fond with a tinge of pity. She knew that they didn’t pity her, just her inability to read other people.

“Quite a bit, honestly,” Molly said, casual but sincere. “Gets rather annoying, to be truthful, but she seems very attracted to you. You’re both just too much of a disaster to notice.”

Yasha frowned at them, and Molly reached over to pat her shoulder.

“I say that with all the love in my heart, of course.”

Yasha sighed and went back to their eggs, thoughts now otherwise occupied by a certain someone.

Molly let the topic drop after that. Instead, they turned to more mundane conversation about random things in the news and happenings in the bar from the night before. Yasha was content to listen and add commentary now and then, and the dynamic was familiar.

Cleaning up their dishes when they were finished, Yasha yawned into her hand and shook her head, trying to banish her fatigue. It always seemed to creep up on her after sleepless nights once she had eaten something. Molly’s hands gently removed the dishtowel from her grasp and they gave her a little nudge toward her bedroom.

“Get some sleep, Yash,” Molly ordered quietly. “We’ve got work tonight, and you need a nap at the very least.”

“Fine, fine,” Yasha grumbled, waving over her shoulder in response to Molly’s saccharine call for her to have sweet dreams. She bundled herself up beneath a thin blanket and fell asleep staring at the faded picture on her nightstand.

--

“Gigi, I swear! If you took my vest to bedazzle it again, I will shred your makeup brushes!” Beau yelled, storming through the bar with her shirt buttoned haphazardly. She had checked her bag and her locker, but her signature waistcoat for bartending was nowhere to be found. Beau knew she packed it before leaving the apartment, too; so it was here somewhere.

“I don’t have it!” Gigi trilled from the queens’ dressing room, all but pressed up against the mirror as she adhered fake eyelashes the length of her finger to her lids. “Ask Dotty! She went into the locker room for something earlier.”

Said queen turned from another mirror, lipstick only half applied, and blinked innocently at Beau. She didn’t buy it for a second and leveled an unimpressed glare with the queen.

“Fine,” Dotty groaned, setting aside the tube of neon lipstick and producing Beau’s unharmed vest from her overflowing bag. “I was going to cover it in glitter. What are you even doing here so early? I thought Yasha was bouncing tonight.”

“She is,” Beau said, brushing a few stray feathers from her waistcoat before shrugging it on with haste. “Molly wants me behind the bar again since Veth has only worked weeknights by herself so far. I was at the dojo when they called.”

From the other side of the dressing room, Amber looked up, heavily made-up eyes narrowing in Beau’s direction. With a gusty sigh, she stood and tossed her cell onto the counter before striding over to Beau. The queen shooed Beau’s fumbling fingers away from her buttons and took over, smoothing out the button up and adjusting the rumpled fabric first. She then tugged Beau’s waistcoat into order over her shoulders and deftly fastened the buttons on that, too.

Beau knew better than to protest like she would with anyone else. Amber was the oldest of their regular queens and very much fulfilled the role of “mom friend”. No one protested Amber’s fussing and got away with it.

“You work too much,” Amber said casually as her manicured fingers fixed Beau’s shirt collar with practiced ease. “Molly could have called Desmond in to help Veth.”

“Yeah, well, they called me. I think Desmond’s got a hot date or something—about time. Either way, I don’t mind it. I was done with classes anyway when they called.”

“Still,” Amber said as she admired her handiwork with an approving nod. “You’re here every weekend, as far as I’m aware, after working every other night of the week at that dojo and attending classes. You’re going to burn out, Beau. Molly’s a hardass, but they’ll give you a night off if you ask for it.”

Beau just shrugged, flashing Amber a grateful look. She tugged her hair free of the messy bun it was in and started to re-do the style, fingers running through her tangled length of hair. It was an avoidance tactic, not wanting to tell the queens that if she had a night off, she would just spend it getting drunk alone in her apartment. It wasn’t exactly a glamorous admission, so Beau deftly whirled her hair into a tight, secure bun and changed the topic.

“Is it just you three performing tonight?”

“Ophelia’s also got a hot date,” Amber chuckled, moving back to her phone to type out a quick text. “None of the others could come in on short notice, and Molly’s fine with us running an extra number or two to fill the time.”

Beau huffed a quick laugh and stole a glance in one mirror to make sure she had gotten all her hair up. Satisfied with her appearance, Beau waved to the queens and ducked out the door with a call of thanks over her shoulder.

They had about an hour before the show was due to start, and Veth was already wearing her mask and set up behind the bar on her stool. The crowd had yet to roll in, so the bar was near empty. Music played quietly from the speakers as the meager late dinner crowd finished up their meals.

As Beau made her way over to the bar, the front door swung open and the vaguely familiar form of Caduceus ducked into the bar. She knew the Firbolg superficially as Molly’s somewhat business partner. Beau wasn’t sure what it was they did business over; she just knew it involved plants.

Ducking in after Caduceus was an unfamiliar figure, carrying a decent-sized, colorfully painted bench on one shoulder. The sight was rather something, because the little blue Tiefling hauling the bench around like it weighed nothing wore an oversized cream-colored sweater and bright pink skirt, grinning cheerfully. Blue hair styled sweetly and violet eyes sparkling as she took in the bar, the Tiefling turned to Caduceus and said something with obvious excitement, the Firbolg smiling back and nodding.

“Hey Cad,” Beau called as she approached the pair. “Looks like you’ve got the bench for Veth.”

“Indeed,” Caduceus drawled pleasantly. “Apologies that I didn’t get it here yesterday, but Jester wanted to finish painting it.”

“And you’re Jester?” Beau asked, turning her gaze to the Tiefling, who was still beaming.

“Yep!” Jester chirped, heavily accented voice bright and saccharine. “It’s nice to meet you. Where should I put this?”

Beau took a moment to admire the way Jester had yet to break a sweat while holding the bench before pointing behind the bar.

“That’s Veth on the stool there. You can get it set up against the counter. Need any help?”

“Nope!” Jester waved Beau’s offer away amicably. “I’ve got it!”

Beau watched Jester flounce over to the bar with more ease than Beau would have thought possible. She watched Veth blink over the bar at Jester’s enthusiastic greeting. Though Beau could only see the Halfling’s eyes, she saw the exact moment the motherly fondness took over.

“She’s my roommate,” Caduceus’ timbre drew Beau’s attention back to him. “Since you were wondering.”

Beau distinctly recalled not voicing that question out loud, but she had learned after a few conversations with the guy to not get into it. He was scarily perceptive and had a tendency to answer questions before being asked. Molly and their attempt at fortune telling could only hope to be so in tune. They had tried their hand at it a month or two ago, and while they embellished the readings enough to fool a few people, Beau saw through it entirely. She was very familiar with the way Molly kept their bullshit just vague enough to be passable.

“It’s colorful,” Beau commented, watching as Veth dragged her stool back around to the outside of the bar so Jester could set the bench down and get it into place.

“Yeah,” Caduceus agreed with a hint of pride in his tone. “She’s a great artist, you know. Paints all over the city.”

Beau took a moment to wonder why she hadn’t heard of such a famous artist before remembering that she wasn’t exactly an astute member of the art community. She shrugged and nodded in reply, finding nothing else to say. Caduceus—to his credit—didn’t seem to mind her silence and instead turned his attention to observing the rest of the bar. Beau stood with him for another few moments before making her way to Veth and Jester.

“How’s it feel?” Jester asked Veth eagerly as the Halfling climbed atop the sturdy new bench. “Do you like it?”

“It’s very nice,” Veth’s pitched voice came from behind the mask, sounding satisfied. “I can walk the length of the bar now, too.”

Peering over the bar top, Beau nodded approvingly. It was wide enough for Veth to traverse back and forth safely, but not so wide that Beau and Desmond would have to stretch uncomfortably to grab things on the counter. Caduceus had done a good job with it, and the paintings were rather detailed and unique.

“Is that flower supposed to look like a dick?” Beau asked, pointing at the curved, colorful flora painted across the top of the bench.

Jester’s delighted laughter was answer enough and Beau decided rather quickly that she liked this Jester girl. Judging from the look in Veth’s eyes, Beau figured the Halfling woman had come to the same conclusion.

“Oh! Caddy you brought it!” Molly’s voice sounded from across the bar. A glance over her shoulder showed Beau that Molly and Yasha had emerged from the door near the back that lead up to their apartment above the bar. Beau had exactly three seconds to admire Yasha’s fitted top before Molly swept up to the bar beside her and stole her attention back to the current conversation.

Molly, with elbows locked as they leaned up and over the bar top to stare delighted at the bench, grinned with glee at the Firbolg.

“This is perfect! What do I owe you for it?”

“Nothing,” Caduceus waved the query away as Molly dropped back down to the floor. “Our partnership is more than enough. I’m just glad I could help.”

Molly simpered a look at Caduceus and moved to wrap around his arm, looking like an overlarge child clinging to their parent. Beau tried and failed to hide a snort behind her hand, earning herself a middle finger from Molly.

“You’re too kind to me, Cad,” Molly said, sounding far too sincere for how childish they looked. “At least let me offer you food or drinks on the house. Aren’t ya always talkin’ about how feeding your friends is an act of love?”

“That’s fair, I suppose,” Caduceus chuckled, giving Molly a gentle pat on the back. “Though, Jester helped, too.”

Said Tiefling’s head popped up from where she had been giggling about something on the bench with Veth. Given Veth’s prickly reception of Beau and the other employees, Beau found herself a little surprised that the Halfling woman seemed so at ease with Jester already. But the blue Tiefling threw a sweet grin to Molly, and they practically melted on the spot. So Beau was seeing a pattern here.

“Do you have any pastries?” Jester asked eagerly, leaning against the counter, eyes sparkling.

“Not at all,” Molly said cheerfully, coming over to the bar to grab Jester’s hands before she could pout too much. “But you’re so positively adorable, I’ll make sure we get some just for you.”

Beau shook her head with an amused quirk of her lips as Molly lead Jester into the kitchen, the pair chatting amicably as they went. Caduceus leaned over the far end of the bar to look down at the bench and ask Veth a few more questions about how it felt, if it needed adjusting, or anything extra added on.

Elbows propped on the bar, Beau fought against a yawn and failed, ending up muffling it against her shoulder as her eyes watered with the force of it. She groaned to herself, mentally calculating how many hours she had left until she could go to sleep.

“You seem tired,” Yasha’s quiet voice spoke up from beside Beau, startling her.

“Jesus, you’re quiet,” Beau hissed, turning to look at the other woman. She spoke up again before Yasha could apologize or comment on Beau’s jumpiness, hurrying from one sentence to the next. “It’s fine, I’m always tired.”

Yasha’s eyes narrowed slightly at her, not maliciously, but still leaving Beau feeling just a little too fidgety.

“You weren’t on the schedule tonight.”

“Nah, Desmond called out for a date. I don’t mind, though. Not like I had plans,” Beau said easily, like she wasn’t fighting bone deep exhaustion after a grueling week of classes in the dojo and at school. Rolling her neck to hear it give a satisfying pop, she sighed and flicked a look at Yasha, who was still watching Beau.

“I’m behind the bar with Veth tonight,” Beau said, just to fill the quiet. She hated being stared at like that, even if it was Yasha. “So you’re on your own at the front. But let me know if you need help, yeah? I think Veth could manage on her own for a few minutes if you need me.”

Yasha opened her mouth, hesitated, closed her mouth and chewed at her lip for a brief second before just nodding. Beau watched her push off the bar and head out front, hands buried deep in the pockets of her signature jacket. She wasn’t sure what Yasha had been about to say, but it left Beau wondering with a fierce desire to chase after her and make Yasha say it. But things like that had never worked on the other woman, so Beau heaved a sigh and moved around to the back of the bar.

Something in her gut told her it would be a long night.

[riceccakes]

Feels Like This

Korra has a basketball game. Everything is about to change.

and here it is: the final installment, the completed Song Based Series. i may revisit this series in the future, though right now i am more than satisfied with what i've created. thank you if you’ve read any of these installments, i hope you've enjoyed reading.

Same Boat, Means Something, Feels Like This (Part 1) are the first three parts of this story, i suggest reading them first to understand the premise behind this series and the songs i based each part on.

read the final installment here on ao3

or right here on tumblr :) x

Korra rubbed her eyes, trying to make sure her mind wasn’t deceiving her. When the girl didn’t disappear, Korra truly couldn’t believe it. In the stands of Omashu University, Asami sat in one of the chairs, wearing her number six Fire Ferrets jersey, cheering for Korra.

She was tired, it was halfway through the third quarter and Korra had been, as usual, on fire. She’d already scored 20 points, completed 3 assists, and stole the ball twice. This was even before she saw Asami. Now after seeing her and watching the girl cheer for her, she had to show off, she had to impress her. She sat out the first few minutes of the quarter and walked over to her coach.

“Come on, Soh! Box her out! Take that rebound! Show her who’s boss!”

“Uh, hey, Coach?”

Coach Bumi turned and smiled. He slapped a hand on Korra’s shoulder and cheered, “Korra! What brings you over here? Yes, Soh! Now, pass that ball!”

Korra grinned. Bumi held his clipboard so tight, his hand started to turn white while the other was in an upturned fist. The whistle around his neck waved furiously as Bumi moved sporadically, as to keep up with where the ball was. He may have been a crazy coach, but he was a good one at that.

“Think you can put me back in? I’m feeling ready.”

Bumi turned to her, looking her up and down quickly before nodding. He called a timeout and took Leng out for Korra. She was getting placed back in as shooting guard, and while she preferred point guard, she knew she could still exhibit her abilities for Asami. Tasoka dribbled down court, analyzing the placement of teammates in front of her. Korra held up two fingers quickly before presenting an open palm. Tasoka nodded and passed the ball. Korra dribbled close to the floor, staying low. Kuvira was in position, Ranran opened up the center key. Korra bursted, weaving around the defender in front of her. She bounce-passed the ball to Kuvira, who was quickly met with Omashu’s defense, leaving a perfect hole for Korra. Kuvira faked a shot then passed it to Ranran, who set up an alley oop for Korra. The arena erupted in cheers as Korra landed on her feet after the dunk. She quickly found Asami again, who had cupped her hands around her mouth and was screaming.

Korra continued to display her skills, though didn’t hog the ball. She helped complete plays, keeping the ball moving around the court, but found the pockets of opportunity to shine. The game ended: Omashu 70, RCU 82. The stands began to empty out, the team stayed on the court to help clean and Kuvira found Korra. She looked at her with an all knowing grin and Korra slapped her shoulder. Korra had a smile on her face she couldn’t get rid of and now with the game over, she tried her hardest to understand how Asami could’ve come to the game.

Asami had even explicitly told Korra she wouldn’t be able to go, but she knew those emerald eyes anywhere. The team collected all their gear and walked out to the locker room. Bumi gave them a congratulatory speech and commended them on a job well done at both games. They earned the rest of their weekend and Monday practice off. The team exited and began to head towards the buses. Korra stood by the tall glass doors of Omashu’s arena and looked around for Asami. As a large crowd of Omashu fans dissipated, Korra spotted her girl doing the same as she was. She quickly ran over to her and dropped her duffle bag on the ground before scooping Asami up and swinging her around.

They laughed as Korra set her back down. Asami had even put on a little face paint of the school’s color under her eyes.

“Asami, I,” she began. Asami’s smile made Korra forget her train of thought and she shook her head, trying to regain her composure. “Asami, what are you doing here? Not that I’m not thrilled to see you, I just can’t believe you’re here!”

Asami shrugged, “I managed to finish my work earlier than expected. I took the Future Industries jet out Ba Sing Se yesterday--”

“Ba Sing Se?” Korra spurted, shaking her head again. “You watched the BSS game too?”

She nodded, “I couldn’t get better tickets on such short notice so I was kind of far back--”

“You came all this way to watch me play?”

Asami softened. Korra watched her eyes, the emerald green was still vibrant against the night. She could see them twinkle, she could see the love in her eyes.

“Well, I most certainly had to try,” Asami whispered. She sighed, “I felt bad for keeping it a secret but the look on your face when you were sitting on the bench was priceless!”

Korra looked up at the girl, dumbfounded. She couldn’t believe that Asami came, not only to Omashu, but to Ba Sing Se as well. She couldn’t believe Asami took the time out of her weekend to travel and watch two basketball games. No one else in Korra’s life was like that. She could count on her friends, on Mako and Bolin, no doubt, on Kuvira and recently Opal. She knew they had her back but none of them had ever been as selfless as Asami. The boys had viable reasons not to come, Bolin was meeting Opal’s parents and Mako had work orientation at his new job, but this wasn’t the first time Asami had come through like this.

Korra had been sick one summer, and it of course had to happen while Tenzin and his family had left for a mini vacation. She was staying at the boy’s apartment but they kept their distance, wanting to keep Korra’s ill germs away from them. Mako let her take his room while he slept on the couch, at least so guests could still sit there. Asami visited every day and did her best to take care of Korra. The girl explained what the best remedy was for her sickness, how her mother always made a pot of steaming hot stewed sea prunes and served it with a side of homemade blubbered seal jerky. It was more so a comfort than a cure but Korra so desperately wanted the items.

The next day, Asami came in with containers of stewed sea prunes and a package of seal jerky. She explained how she tried to stop at Narook’s to see if stewed sea prunes were on the menu but the restaurant was closed for reconstruction. She found a corner store in the Little Water Tribe neighborhood and asked the merchants how to make the dish. She gathered the ingredients and wrote down the steps, she found a decent package of seal jerky at a pop-up kiosk, and returned to the Sato mansion to make the stew. Apparently, she had to return to the corner store once more, because she over boiled the sea prunes and they turned into an undesirable mush. The second attempt was much better and Asami had to buy another package of seal jerky because she ate the other one while cooking.

Korra tasted the stew; it wasn’t her mother’s, but the fact that Asami made time to go to the Little Water Tribe neighborhood, buy items at the store, cook, go back to the store, and cook again, that stew was near perfect. Asami spent the rest of that day with Korra, stealing pieces of seal jerky and playing Mako’s video games. She wasn’t afraid of her germs, happily laying down next to her on the fresh set of sheets Mako put down for her.

Korra looked at Asami standing in front of her: the girl in her homemade jersey, the girl who traveled so far to see her play, the girl who Korra suddenly realized she was in love with; wholly and utterly, completely in love with. She knew right then the world hadn’t been playing a tiring game with her, rather setting her up for a perfect slam dunk.

The two had locked eyes and Korra hated the distance between them. It was much too far, only inches, but too many for her taste. Her heart was ready for takeoff; this was better than any college basketball victory, better than a crazy college rave, this was her future. There was no one else Korra wanted in her corner, no one else to travel hundreds of miles to watch her play, no one else to be the person she came home to. It may have been too early to be thinking about it, but Korra knew, she knew now, there was no denying anything, no need to question. She couldn’t take it any longer and grabbed Asami’s collar to pull her down and pressed their lips together.

Just like the party, her lips were sweet like cherries and Korra felt like she was flying. Asami began to deepen the kiss and Korra wrapped her arms around the girl’s waist to pull her closer. Korra could hear Kuvira cheering in the background but let it go, she’d deal with her teammate later. All Korra could think about was Asami, about the girl who stole her heart and she didn’t even know she had.

They pulled away and Asami began to stutter, “What, I--, Korra, what?”

Korra laughed, falling into Asami’s hands on her cheeks, “I had to, Asami, you,” she gulped, “you came all the way to Ba Sing Se and Omashu to watch me play, how could I not?”

Korra saw a tear fall from Asami’s eyes. Suddenly the girl was crying and she wrapped her arms around Korra’s neck and buried her face. Korra wasn’t sure what was happening, had it been the wrong move to kiss her? After Wing and Wei’s party, she’d thought for sure that Asami had liked her, or at least it was on her mind, but perhaps she misunderstood and Asami really was just too drunk to realize what she’d been doing.

Asami picked her head up slightly and whispered, “Korra, I’ve wanted you for so long, I never thought this would happen. I--”

“Wait, so these are happy tears?” Korra interrupted, shouting at the world who was teetering back and forth.

Korra backed up to look at Asami’s eyes, but as soon as she took a step, Asami closed the space once more and wrapped her arms around Korra’s neck, hugging her tightly. The tears were still falling from her face when they let go but Asami was smiling; Korra did the same as she wiped them away. Korra knew, she knew it all had to have meant something.

They gently placed their lips together as Kuvira cheered once more in the background.