#something about unending devotion really gets me

[adaine-party-wizard]

no i’m totally sooooo normal about percy falling into tartarus with annabeth cause at least they’re together. so normal about that

[least-carpet]

I am curious: how do you think would work realistically a jc and wwx's reconciliation? Have you any meta on them and their relationship?

I'm sorry this took a minute, anon! Work has been frankly chaotic. But I saw an anti-reconciliation post¹ and I have been roused from my post-work stupor.

Unfortunately, you asked me for something I'm incompetent at, which is plotting. (Otherwise I would have already unleashed my ningcheng fic upon the world.) What I can talk about is what I find compelling about potential reconciliation and potential scenarios.

Why do I love a post-canon reconciliation?

Apart from really liking their relationship and finding it compelling—IMO it's the heart of the narrative of the first life—what I actually enjoy about it is what it offers in terms of development for Wei Wuxian.

I read Wei Wuxian as having displaced and projected a lot of his unresolved trauma onto Jiang Cheng. I've talked a little before about my reading of Jiang Cheng as the "bad feelings" sin eater of the Yunmeng Trio—neither Jiang Yanli nor Wei Wuxian feel like they can express deep unhappiness, but Jiang Cheng is bad at hiding his, so in some way it's his job to embody the collective unhappiness of the children of that family system.

But although this makes Wei Wuxian merry and likeable, it's not actually good for anyone, or even sustainable—when he loses control, he really loses control. And his coping skills are extremely self-destructive, as we can see from the post-war downward spiral of drinking and avoidance. I also think his experiences in his childhood (losing his parents and being homeless) plus his wartime experiences gave him some kind of trauma disorder that contributes to his terrible memory, which he's turned into his primary coping mechanism (apart from alcohol). If I Simply Close My Eyes And Run Away, My Bad Feelings Can't Get Me!

But, like, repressing your feelings doesn't work forever. He's compartmentalized his whole first life to function in the second one, but that means giving up on everything and everyone he loved, including the Jiang siblings and Lotus Pier. That's incredibly tragic to me.

Sometimes I think antis are so happy to demonize Jiang Cheng in order to minimize the depth of the loss Wei Wuxian has suffered. If he never loved Jiang Cheng, if they were never close and devoted to one another, if their childhood was an unending misery, then wouldn't Wei Wuxian be much freer in the present?

But what I think has happened is that the loss is so huge that it's completely terrifying and threatening. So are the feelings around killing Jin Zixuan, Jiang Yanli's death, and the death of Wen Qing and the Wen remnants. It's too much, so he blocks it out or, in some cases, projects it onto Jiang Cheng.

Of course, Jiang Cheng will never forgive him, because he irreparably ruined Jiang Yanli's life and then she died trying to save him and Jin Ling became an orphan. It's all his fault; it can't be forgiven; he might as well give up on it...

Jiang Cheng is obviously very angry and upset with him, it's true. But you can see how projecting his guilt and shame over his actions onto Jiang Cheng and then running away from Jiang Cheng is also a way for him to escape his guilt and shame over what happened to Jiang Yanli. (And to escape all the repressed resentment he has for Jiang Cheng because of the core transfer.²)

But there are two tragic elements of this approach. One, that by doing this he yields up any possible relationship with Jiang Cheng, and with the Jiang Sect, because by all means Wei Wuxian must escape him in order to outrun his terrible feelings. Two, that it's another coping mechanism that distorts the reality of the situation, which is that they were all swept up in power games beyond their capacity to manage, and they did their best—the Jiang siblings, the Wen siblings, Jin Zixuan, and Wei Wuxian—and it still went badly for everyone except the Jin Sect.

I don't think he can confront that yet. But I do think that Wei Wuxian feels very safe with Lan Wangji, and sometimes a safe and supportive relationship can provide the resources to do things you didn't think you could do before.

Can you imagine a different conversation, that begins with the bald acknowledgement of failure and wrongdoing³? "I never meant for all of that to happen. I did what I thought was right, but I never thought Jiang Yanli would be harmed, and I didn't intend to kill Jin Zixuan. I am so sorry. I miss her."

GIVE THE CATHARSIS TO ME. GIVE IT HERE.

A Wei Wuxian who has reached a point where he's capable of that accountability and vulnerability is delicious to me. A Wei Wuxian who can get there can return to Lotus Pier and rebuild a relationship with the living sect and his living sect brother.

How could it happen?

The trick is how to get there, 'cause it's like trying to herd cats where one cat is mortally afraid of facing the second and the other one has betrayal trauma and abandonment issues. But the cats love each other! They do!

I don't see Jiang Cheng initiating. I see him as being more open to a reconciliation, now that he knows why Wei Wuxian did what he did, but I see him as being profoundly afraid of trapping people in relationship with him or inflicting himself on people who don't want him around. (Not, like, for politics. In that arena I assume he's unpleasant when necessary to great effect.)

Fortunately, Wei Wuxian can be led if you're cunning enough to do it and you bait the trap with something good (see the plot of MDZS for Nie Huaisang's very successful demonstration of this principle). He also will increase pursuit if you dangle and withdraw the bait.

The question, of course, is what makes good bait for catching Wei Wuxian. Some options:

Option 1: murder mystery. Someone dies in an exciting way that involves Jiang Cheng. (Wei Wuxian will involve himself, dude loves a murder mystery.) It could be in the Jiang Sect or the Jin Sect; if it involves Jin Ling, Jiang Cheng will jump in with a swiftness.

Option 2: Jiang Cheng marriage rumours. Doesn't even have to involve unsavoury rumous about the potential wife; Jiang Cheng getting married without him (like Jiang Yanli) would dredge up some feelings, I think.

Option 3: Jiang Cheng tragic illness or curse rumours. You better be sure it was in a past life, cause it looks like this one might be over soon!

Option 4: Forced together time (due to a night hunt or a kidnapping, etc.). It's time for the getting along shirt!

To borrow from SVSSS, you might need a scenario-pusher for it to happen. But the world of MDZS is rife with these opportunities, and cultivators can live a very long time. So there's hope yet!

Footnotes:

1. This is a perfectly reasonable viewpoint to come to by the end of the novel. It's simply one I don't share.

2. See this passage from the confrontation in the Guanyin Temple:

"It wasn’t something he liked to reminisce about. He didn’t want to be reminded again and again of what it felt like when his core was cut out or what price he had to pay. If this were exposed in the past, he’d most likely laugh and comfort Jiang Cheng … But now, he indeed didn’t have the strength left to put up such a confident, nonchalant pretense.

From the bottom of his heart, he knew he wasn’t so indifferent about it after all.

Was it really that easy to move on from such a thing?

Of course not." (Chapter 103, "Hatred," ExR translation)

3. I saw a different post complaining about Wei Wuxian apologizing to Jiang Cheng in reconciliation scenarios, and I just, like, he kicked off a political firestorm that ended in the death of Jiang Yanli and her husband. This is completely separate from the non-consensual surgery and all the lying he was doing about that. He owes him multiple different apologies! And Jiang Cheng should also apologize to him! That's why they apologize to each other in the Temple, because they know they hurt each other! The point of an apology in an intimate relationship is to connect with the person you are apologizing to in order to repair the relationship, and the Temple was not the time, which is why they need a private do-over! It's not humiliation, it's intimacy, connection, and repair. How do y'all live your lives.

3.5 Also, imagine it to be more in-character than that.

[spicehill]

inescapable paths of purpose, meaning in meaninglessness

or: why the path of nihility suits jiaoqiu so much better than abundance ever could, and it's fitting that his kit has no added healing. warning ahead for......... kinda rambling and talking in circles about this guy lmao. does this even make sense?????? help???????? uhhh... a tl;dr:

ah! would you look over there, it's my shameless favorite tv trope article happening off-screen in his backstory, break the cutie!

honestly it's kinda funny that both jiaoqiu and the emanator of nihility don't have a sense of taste anymore. the spice really is just to feel something. anything

somehow I didn't get to talk directly about him having like 4 different hats he wears and the fascinating psychology of role identities. how.

tried to get tf out of this field and they keep pulling me back in.

ms. arbiter general feixiao please one chance ( to prevent me, your loyal and devoted retainer jiaoqiu, from falling into utter and unending despair now that i've invested any remaining sense of purpose I have in this life in your survival )

jiaoqiu's character stories start and end in the same place, with him on the shore of rainsoar lake: the setting is the same, the environment the same, the beautiful details that paint the picture of a welcoming, pleasant place are unchanging.

the only thing that has changed is jiaoqiu.

he does not bother with the rain that runs down his ears now, he does not find anything to appreciate in the mild, sweet taste of wild rice. and even though he now sees his time here in the lake as serving a new endeavor, one that pulls him away from the pain and pointlessness of medicine, he is about to start anew on the path that he tried to leave in the first place: a single new patient, one with an affliction more challenging to cure than any wound he ever saw on the battlefield.

how did he get here?

bear with me through a short personal anecdote -- it grounds a lot of my perception of finding purpose -- a vivid memory I have of a conversation when I was younger with my father concluded with him telling me something. not everyone feels the need to find their purpose in their work, and that's okay. it's more strange to need your work to fulfill your life's purpose than not. and he felt that was important because, as the child of educators, I had only ever known adults who derive a deep sense of meaning and purpose from their work and the way they help others.

medicine, like education, is a field built of devotion, compassion. it is a selfish selflessness: by merely participating in it, you are seeking meaning and purpose. and as the child of prominent alchemists, I wouldn't doubt that jiaoqiu had never really known any adults who didn't help others while growing up, either.

that's kind of where his character stories start: the first time he's at rainsoar lake, he's young, enthusiastic, pleasant, hopeful. at the start, his demeanor isn't a diplomatic mask: its genuine, along with his desire to help others who need the most help on the yaoqing, cloud and verdant knights who face countless battles. maybe at this point in his life, several centuries prior, he would've walked the path of abundance with ease.

but that is not the man you meet now: the one we meet in-game wears politeness and pleasantries as a front most of the time, worries and plans almost-constantly, and really doesn't even think well of himself. jiaoqiu a harsh critic of his own shortcomings and mistakes, and isn't a stranger to feeling like a mistake or shortcoming of his own has happened. the contrast between the way he treats others ( pleasantness, gentleness, patience ) and the way he treats himself ( criticism, frustration, disappointment ), I think, is one of the first big hints we get outside of his character stories for traits that actually suit the path of nihility well.

to the next point, and circling back to his character stories: I always found it interesting that the drip marketing released for jiaoqiu portrayed his initial departure from medicine as being due to a broken heart.

this doesn't seem like it was a mistranslation or miscommunication with the localization, even though brokenheartedness is often associated with romance or love for another person of some kind. heartbreak is also when something is soul-crushing; heartbreak is falling out of love against your will with something you deeply loved once before. heartbreak is also irredeemable loss, often unsalvageable and irreversible. jiaoqiu's brokenheartedness stems from losing his passion for healing, his sense of purpose, and losing his sense of taste, all three of which were always deeply intertwined and interconnected.

character story details seem to suggest that his loss of taste may actually be physical more than psychological due to exposure to the lux arrow bombardment in the third abundance war: he was close enough to the impact that killed the previous arbiter general of the yaoqing while rescuing feixiao that it's almost like he has taste loss due to radiation exposure. combined with the building sense of pointlessness in his work as a military healer, seeing all his effort to help others and ease their suffering wasted again and again, he left healing after that -- seemingly to start a restaurant, which he called rainsoar eatery -- to try to salvage the little sense of purpose he has left after years and years as a healer made him feel purposeless.

the funny thing about cooking is that it's also a profession of compassion where your work is meant to help others -- cooking makes people happy, makes them feel warm, full. it's more temporary than medicine, but is a form of medicine of it's own right. in a way, jiaoqiu was still searching for purpose and meaning in his work, but now his scale and sense of personal impact was much smaller, much more temporary. he doesn't seem to believe at this point in his life that he's still capable of a larger impact. thus, in lost and adrift, the order of magnitude in which he describes impact are two extremes: either saving one person ( easy ) or saving the world ( impossible ). this is another signature conundrum of someone who has lost their way when their sense of self-meaning has been derived from work of compassionate service: what's the point of doing the hardest work if I can't really make a difference?

seeing pointlessness in effort spent on helping others is nihilistic, though it seems like jiaoqiu is still holding onto some hope for meaning.

so when his master from the alchemy commission comes to find him again years after the third abundance war at his restaurant near the lakeshore, he came with the purpose of persuading jiaoqiu to take on one more patient. just one, who his master promises will help him understand a healer's purpose -- and she's perhaps the most impossible person to heal in the world.

but he's saving all his medical effort for her: genuinely healing you is effort poorly spent. you're no longer part of his sense of purpose. thus far, I think working for feixiao has already redefined some of his sense of magnitude of impact, working to try and cure feixiao -- saving one person, in this case, is very important. and maybe the impossibility of the task is part of the point: it won't stop him from trying everything he can anyway.

[we-out-here-simping]

i wanna know how you wrote kiss it away honey, because i read it twice and there's something in the writing that fucks with my brain so bad, i don't really know how to explain it but it confuses the hell out of me and it's just so good

oooo i LOVE this question!! tysm for asking and i'm sorry this took me a while to answer

i'm so so sooo glad people really like this fic bc its so special to me! i feel like i really hit the jackpot when i wrote i really am so so proud of it!

i'm not quite sure if this is an answer but here have my ramble <3

to a certain degree its supposed to be a take on a general x reader fic, where the reader is worried or going through something and the character just does everything right and fixes everytging. so i guess, reader really is a self insert for me because when i first thought of this fic i was having an awful time and just wanted to cry in this guys arms. but somehow that got demented into the monster it is now!

it really is just one of those fics that gets better with on the second read, if i do say so myself. when i do put the part 2 out, i think re reading this will i think give u a lot of 'oh shit' moments (again, if i do say so myself)

the writing style is so fun to do. actions/emotions are written in very concise, short sentences. theres a lot of repetition for impact ofcourse we love her. both sort of add to the vagueness and ambiguity of it all that messes with your brain.

theres this juxtaposition of their more mundane and domestic moments as well as the very fucked things happening behind the scenes yk like murder and what is practically gaslighting your partner and yourself. Fun!

i feel like the way steve is written in this fic is so interesting. his devotion towards the reader is unparalled and unending. when @procrastinationprincesses was reading this fic for the first time, she mentioned how crazy it is that steve is dating what is practically his god, because the reader created him. and i think about that a lot lol

this is a bit embarassing to admit but around the time i was writing it, i was hyperfixating on a lot of the five nights at freddy's lore lmaoo like i was watching video essays that were multiple hours long so, many of the sentiments seeped from it. one particular one is one of the characters promises one dying character that he wil 'put him back together' which paralells 'he's the only one who could ever fix you' in the fic if that makes sense?

another thing that affected the tone of this fic was the fact that i always had to listen to mitski's "my love mine all mine" everytime i sat down to write. and i still have to do that when i try to get into the mood for part 2. the fic isnt necessarily based on it but the vibes are very much there

another thing i might have subconsciously taken from def was wandavision. i think that is self explanatory in of itself.

one of my fave lines i've ever written def has to be "silence was unbearable when it wasn't mixed in with your heartbeat" :( bc thats crazy i ate that i fear

[sovtwords]

HELLO LUV, I CANNOT EXPRESS HOW HAPPY I AM YOUR PASSION FOR WRITING HAS CAME BACK!!! I NEED MORE OF WHORROR SERIES BECAUSE I CAN REBUFF THOSE SEVEN EXISTING PARTS BY HEART LOL and because i am so excited and happy for you, perhaps can you start your new writing journey with the prompt of the third bullet point w/ Atsumu??? LOVE YOU AND GOOD LUCK <333

for: haikyuu!!

pairing: miya atsumu x reader

warnings: brief mention of sex

w/c: 657

a/n: THANK YOU MY DEAREST!!! I'm trying my hardest to get into writing again - I NEED to finish my whorror series!! AND THANK YOU FOR SENDING IN A PROMPT FOR MY MAIN SQUEEZE HEHEHE ILYSM

Atsumu feels like his heart is about to burst free from his chest like one of those weird alien things in that movie Suna showed him one night.

You’ve long since clued in on the fact that something was seriously up with Atsumu, if the table rattling underneath you was any indication. His leg bounces rapidly and steadily, each jitter making the table shake, making the cutlery twinkle rather obnoxiously, but the blonde doesn’t seem to notice the racket he’s making as he tries to focus on the essay in front of him. The words are blurry, a mess of syllables, periods and commas, and the screen is glaringly bright enough to put a strain on his eyes, yet he’s adamant about keeping his gaze set on his laptop, and not anywhere near you where you sit across from him at the table doing your own college work.

Roommates were supposed to be fun. They were supposed to be a source of entertainment, a buddy to drink with, someone to share half of the cooking and cleaning with, someone to give out to when the toilet wasn’t flushed. You weren’t supposed to strike up a ‘friend’s with benefits’ deal with them under the pretense of it strictly being just sex, you aren’t supposed to begin falling into their bed to seek more than just a quick fuck and instead drown yourself in the warmth of their affection and comfort, and you most definitely should not fall in love with them.

But here sits Miya Atsumu - notorious rule breaker. He didn’t just cross the line; he practically leapt and bounded over it like a happy elf just so he could be wrapped up in your arms and greedily inhale all the attention he could get.

He’s well passed the ‘butterflies in the stomach’ stage and is now wallowing in the ‘I am completely devoted to nobody but you’ stage of his little problem, and Atsumu knows he’s reaching a boiling point with every passing day he tries to smother his feelings and move on with his life.

And you - Gods, you - with your perfect everything, your kindness that is as unending as time itself, know that Atsumu needs to work out whatever if troubling him before he can ever come to rely on anyone else, and you wait with the patience of a saint for him to explode, ready to catch the pieces of his heart and glue it together again.

Atsumu breaks, allows himself a peek at you over the edge of his laptop, and wonders how someone slurping noodles with bags under their eyes and a hoodie with more holes in it than Swiss cheese could be the embodiment of beauty itself, and yet-

“S-So,” Atsumu finally snaps, and winces at the crack in his voice, but allows his voice to do all the work before he can melt into a puddle because of the gleam in your eye, how you drink in the entirety of his being like an artist to their muse. It makes him feel special in a way he was never allowed to feel before, and for that, he would give you the world and then some. “This is really awkward ‘cause I know I told ya I wasn’t lookin’ for love, but then I kinda fell in love and I would love it if you’d have me as yer boyfriend.”

Your eyebrows inch their way up to your hairline in surprise, and his mouth begins to ramble some more.

“W-Well I mean- we don’t have to go by any names like that I suppose if ya don’t like it. But it’d make me the happiest man in the world if ya did. And I understand if ya don’t feel the same way but I don’t wanna lose ya over something like this, and I-”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

His leg stops shaking.

And then it starts again twice as fast.

[the-darkness-does-not-bargain]

Q, what’s the vine you’re referencing here?

re: the rockplay tags, can’t believe avalil have a caveman kink/cain & able esque kink lmao. oh that’s reminding me of the “avalil fighting and then at some point switching to doing board games to see who tops later”

and like, they probably have a hard time being normal about board games because of the whole russian dog & bell named response or w(e lmao

someone will pull out a board game and ava and/or lilith will be like 🧍i’ve decided i want to see my wife* and only my wife right now

sjsjjss turns out beatrice’s a board game nerd, and not only does she know many board games’ rule books & mechanics inside and out, she also knows a bunch of trivia related to the games, like how this printing error changed the rules forevermore for x game, or how the creator of y board game really really hated hats so he made hats an instant “loose all health” item, etc, and ava & lil find beatrice in full board game nerd mode one of her hottest modes

*feel like ava & lilith have gotten fake married a bunch of times just to see how many times they could get away with it and what’s the nosy ridiculous circumstances they could get married in, especially in like homophobic areas and stuff

the fact that acting like newlyweds gets them discounts, people being nicer to em, getting out of awkward social situations they don’t wanna be in w(o being rude, etc is the cherry on top

ava has absolutely fake married lilith in the most obvious fake mustache to ever fake mustache

ava & lilith haven’t ever gotten married for realsies though, at least and probably defo not formally, definitely because they find the idea lowkey unnecessary and sometimes dumb, because well *waves generally* but also possibly because of *both* finding the idea unnecessary + a bit dumb sometimes and also afraid that like, it’ll be pushing their luck too far or something

Oh that's this vine! That post just really reminded me of it.

They probably do switch to board games at some point, but god help anyone who decides to start a snowball fight with them because uhhhhhhhhhhhh. And it very much is a Pavlovian response, so much so that a picture of a Monopoly board is the equivalent of a sext for them, and Beatrice is Not Immune to board game-based sex nonsense. She introduces them to all the cool, new board games that have been published in the past decade and oops, they're no longer invited to Game Night anymore, whoops!

They probably have individual mementos from each fake wedding, like a piece of jewelry or a particular gift or a fake mustache, a lot of tiny keepsakes that show their unending devotion to each other even though the marriages are all "fake". When Bea comes into the picture, they initially wonder if they're going to have to actually seal the deal for Bea's sake ("Bea's a modern woman, Lil, modern women can marry each other"). But Bea is actually pretty indifferent to the institution probably because of her parents and also because werewolves don't "marry", they "mate". Ava and Lilith are her mates, and that's all that really matters.

[mrmcribs]

Hey, nerd, guess who's here?

1, 3 Cassi, Athens, Serpa

4 Athens

7, 8 Mir! Rotary, Rotary

15 Rotary

17, 18 Cassi

thank you for the long ask, this isn’t satirical, I genuinely love having long asks

1, Best and Worst qualities, and Why

Cassi’s best quality is her durability and loyalty to the people close to her (sadly there’s only 1 person, and it’s exactly who you think it is)

Athens has the great person you can get along with, because they have the collective experiences of tons of people. Knowledge of different peoples lives and experiences gives him a big variety of lives to pull from

Serpa is completely and utterly devoted to their cause, which I guess is a good quality? I don’t have many “good” qualities for them

but A MAJORITY OF MY CHARACTERS have the quality of being COMPLETELY AMBIVALENT AND NOT CARING ABOUT LIVES, they have no real ties to “morals” and such, making them not the best friends you could have, really

3, What are their voices like?

Cassi has a voice like a beautiful singer, while having an American accent (I think American accents sound like how I think they sound, idk)

Athens’ voice varies a lot depending on their mood, varying from a very forced sounding happy voice or that of a smooth bartender, so really, idk

Serpa’s voice is somewhat sultry, sounding like a super villain, not leaning towards feminine or masculine. Though, occasionally, some of her words can sound a bit…. bitcrushed? Makes you wonder wether they’re using the tv head to speak or are doing it without a mouth.

4, Underlying motivations

Athens has only one thing he wants to do most in his probably unending existence and suffering, and that’s going to Venus. There is a reason why, but I refuse to tell you guys because it’s an inside joke that only i know :)

7, Greatest Insecurities

Mir!Rotary canNOT pick a fucking struggle, man. He’s an orphan who’s constantly worried or crying, and has like, 0 friends. It’d be difficult for me to find something he’s NOT insecure about. Meanwhile, Rotary’s only real struggle is with him feeling that him being around annoys people and they don’t want him around. Also, fun fact that is slightly refered to only once when he was first introduced during the Box mini battle, he went to Church and witnessed the Anti-Bostonian Preacher guy, which 100% gave him some sort of trauma

8, Coping Mechanism

Mir!Rotary: He doesn’t cope, why would you ask me this about him, have you fucking seen this child before?

Rotary copes through good ol’ cynicalism, the most marketable type of coping besides blowing all your money on useless shit. Sadly, this makes him 1% more similar to Rick from Rick and Morty, which makes me want to blow my/his brains out.

15, are they different from how they were as a child?

As I’ve kinda hinted towards at 8, Rotary was likely a normal young Christian child before he met THAT Priest and lost all of his faith in god. Ever since, Rotary barely acts as positive as he used to, I wouldn’t be surprised if occasionally you’d find him in bar smoking. He probably used his phones to sneak in tho, no bouncer would let this 4ft fucko in, and I’m willing to be he never got a license because he was too short to drive.

17, How many hours of sleep do they take?

Cassi, being a goddess, doesn’t NEED to sleep to live, but because of their habits, needs to sleep to be fully lucid(us). Saying that, I fully believe her sleeping periods either span from a quick nap, to a healthy rest, to a few days. Really depends how many things they do, but in an average basis, i’d give it…. 6 or so hours for her regular day, so a little under average.

18, where do they see themselves in 10 years?

For being a being that can go between universes and stuff, 10 years isn’t THAT long, so if you don’t mind me I’m putting an extra 0 on that shit.

Now, I truly and completely believe that given enough time, Cassi could be able to become the new God of the PEPN multiverse, but she’d have to take advantage of a few things. But in only 100 years, I’d see her actually having grown as a person, and being maybe a bit more compassionate and polite to an extent.

Also she’d have murdered everyone in Miraculum at least once, because as before mentioned, she holds grudges

————————————

Sorry it took a while to finish this, but I also loved doing this.

Thank you for the based ask, Edow, and remember!

none of you are safe

[kopivie]

LOTS OF PERMISSION‼️

-🦫 🫵🎤

okay hi hello i'm here. school is tearing me apart and i feel like crying every single day but i am Here.

for context: something i discovered recently is the fact that i really do have some fixation on mythology that allows me to sorta.. vent my frustrations with religion. i grew up seventh-day adventist (just another one of the millions of christian denominations) and one of the biggest things that freaked me out as a kid was the fact that i had to fear god. i was supposed to have unending love and faith that this god was going to handle things on his own time -- that didn't bother me at the time. (it does now, though.) but what bothered me -- what terrified me -- was the fact that one wrong step or even one wrong thought could potentially damn me to hell.

and like... how fucked up is that, right? god punishes you for minor intrusive thoughts, works on his own time -- like fuck you and your needs and deadlines, god will get it done when he feels like it -- and any outcome is part of his plan? are you being fr? a close family friend lost her daughter in a freak accident two years ago. that woman was so devout; every other sentence was something about praising god. and her daughter was just like her mother. but she's just... gone. and you're telling me that was part of his plan? if god were as benevolent and gracious as you say he is, why isn't he doing anything to stop, oh i don't know, literally anything bad from happening.

so... that's the basis of this world, i suppose. let me explain:

the titans (yes, this is primarily greek mythology) created the world and mankind, but couldn't directly teach these humans what they needed to know to survive because their brilliance would overwhelm a human. so each titan consulted rhea, who is the mother of most of the olympian pantheon, to create messengers (or divine proxies) to teach the humans everything they needed to know. these divine proxies were simply the titans in a watered down divine form that mortals could tolerate and communicate with. but the proxies gained independence through faith. because the humans could only trust the divine beings that they could see and request help from, they began to worship these divine proxies (rhea's creations).

i like to think of faith as a power source for the divine. the titans don't necessarily need faith to sustain themselves and retain their divinity as they're fashioned out of pure cosmic energy. their power is infinite and eternal. but these divine proxies (henceforth called the pantheon) rely on faith to maintain their hold on mortals. without faith, worship, and devotion, they will inevitably wither away and die, or, if it's a minor niche deity, be absorbed into a larger deity's power.

and this is because in the real world, can god punish you for anything if you have no faith in him? not that you disparage him necessarily, but if you legitimately don't care/have never been introduced to god, how much hold can he really have on your life? all that "the end is nigh!" shit that doomer christians spew really doesn't concern you -- climate change does. i suppose this is a very epicurean take on things, but you get what i'm trying to say.

so anyways, the titanomachy occurs because the pantheon attempts to usurp the power of their creators. the titans can't really fight back without causing destruction on a cosmic level (i.e., wiping out every mortal in existence or changing the course of the stars), so they really have no choice but to sacrifice as much power as the pantheon can feasibly handle. after all, the pantheon is strengthened by the human's belief in their abilities. plus, like i mentioned earlier, the humans have no reason to believe that the gods of the pantheon aren't their real makers -- the titans could never interact with them without harming them, remember?

but as years, millienia, eons go by, the titans' abilities have decreased just enough for them to start using mortals as their proxies. as in, they choose a mortal who has the appropriate amount of energy to either withstand direct communication from the titan themself or house the titan's consciousness for a brief period to deliver messages or complete tasks. and because these mortal proxies exist, now the mortals have reason to believe that their true creators aren't the gods of the pantheon, but these cosmic beings who virtually exist on another plane.

so the world is split into different beliefs, basically. cults that revere the titans and churches that worship the gods.

(fun fact: the avrigian empire's imperial family actually have divine blood, as the god of the sun chooses a partner once every set number of years to maintain his hold on the people's faith. the xedian queendom, on the other hand, allows for the titan goddess of the moon to speak through the sitting ruler whenever she is summoned, allowing the ruler to be a titan's proxy and have the blessing of longevity, amongst other gifts. the two nations's primary source of conflict is religious, as xedians revere the titans while the avrigians revere the sitting pantheon.)

but, regardless of who you worship, neither divine being is willing to assist with the affliction. this affliction is essentially divine rage made into a physical miasma that poisons and kills any mortal being it comes into contact with. in its final stages, it blackens the appendages and kills someone. thaumaturges are meant to cleanse this by absorbing this divine hatred into their own bodies, cleansing it internally, and releasing the excess energy back into the world. however, if the affliction has progressed to the stage of limb darkening, the afflicted patient is likely beyond the point of saving. at that point, the disease must be cleansed lest the patient be revived by this otherworldly hatred and go on a rampage.

and i may or may not have a main antagonist who weaponizes this affliction to create an undead army and conduct human experiments on his wife and children first, then form a cult based on this. to him, the gods will never be happy, and the affliction is proof of that. they will forever maintain this rage, this hatred that poisons life -- wipes out entire ecosystems -- only for mortals to be the ones who are forced to suffer in their attempts to fix it. no amount of worship will save the mortals. your gods, titans, whoever you pray to will never listen. they want you dead. the point is to cause enough non-believers (or basically just kill enough people) to wipe out a major god of the pantheon. he and his supporters destabilize religious villages and revel in the destruction and death it causes with no regard for who it affects, man or god.

this cult is drawn to negativity, as they follow the stench of hatred. they try to infiltrate communities to incite violence amongst the people, inflict them with the scourge (the aforementioned affliction) and continue on the warpath of destruction. the goal is to cause the two biggest nations who have a long history of colonization and war (the avrigian empire and the xedian queendom) to go to war once more, as that could most certainly spell out doom for the entire world.

whew. i'm ngl, some of the stuff that i mentioned wasn't actually ever written down. revisions come to mind as i type, so i'm gonna be revising my notes once i finish my assigned reading for the day. (and start drafting a paper since it's due friday...)

[tryhardgwen]

rs archive 03/11/2024:

hiii i love listening to you talk (well, read it really). your take and interpretation of gumakeria is amazing. like the way you write their dynamics>>>> something about their unending love and devotion, i love it so much like--- so pls talk more about them AHHAHA i would like to hear more of you views and takes on them, yap more to me pls

UM ??? 🥹anon u r literally the sweetest. thank you so much for this submit??? all i ever wanted with my retrospring was an excuse to yap and you just gave it to me ily. and gumakeria literally runs my whole world. LET THE YAPPING COMMENCE!

so first things first i gotta talk about my gumakeria music. my main artists are between friends (duh), the neighbourhood (wiped out!), niki (moonchild), taylor swift, del water gap. i can find them everywhere. something in the water, we could be so electric, ditto, self-destruct, the beach, cruel summer, WEST COAST, so it goes, ode to a conversation stuck in my throat, SHUT UP MY MOMS CALLING, die for you, alma, eyes on my baby, collide. i will not stfu. i could easily give you a lyric analysis of any song (actually i lied i cant with some songs bc its just the vibe yk?) but ill spare you.

OK so the thing about gumakeria is like. theyre an obvious pairing. yes, everyone ships botlanes together. its a pandemic. the govt assigned ships are taking over. but. BUT. they are so much more than a govt assigned ship okay??? THEY MAKE SENSE. they are so devoted and so soulmates and just so !!!!!! i fell so hard for them and then couldnt get back up. the way gumayusi is so outwradly/openly affectionate while keria is more silently supportive. their parallels in game with their personalities is so insane and interesting actually. because yeah, the adc is the center of attention. guma shines and keria, well, supports. same with their personalities, guma is open and keria is quieter. guma praises and waxes poetic about keria all the time while keria is... quieter. but despite the traditional lane roles, whats also interesting is the rise of keria being the star of the t1 botlane (what with his picks and insane talent) rather than guma. contrast this with the rise of more keria-pov gumakeria fanfic...??? (bear with me i have a point, i swear.)

so, yeah. there are less canon-compliant fics in gumas pov. more in keria pov. why is that? im just speculating, of course, bc like. myself included... i mostly write keria pov! the thing is, because keria is "quieter" and less overt i think people are drawn to him so they can figure out whats underneath the surface and write that. its easier to find, in a way, because hes quieter and mysterious, /ofc/ hes going to be more emotive in that way. and like, yeah, guma is overt and bright. so much so that, oftentimes, its harder to look underneath the surface. he's the sun, yeah? bright and brilliant and glaring. it hurts to look at the sun. keria is covert, and "softer" and easier to look at in that way. you can spot his ulterior motives faster. hes greedy, hes desperate, hes cruel (im using all these adjectives artistically, bear with me). with guma, hes already so OPEN you're tricked into thinking he doesnt have any ulterior motives. everything is already out in the air, right? NO. HE HAS ULTERIOR MOTIVES TOO BUT NO ONE EVER NOTICESSS. HE WILL STRAIGHT OUT FUCKIGN SAY THEM AND NO ONE BATS AN EYE OR THINKS TO LOOK A LITTLE CLOSER BECAUSE HES SO UPFRONT ABOUT IT. he wants this he wants that—noone truly knows or cares to find out how MUCH he wants it. hes also greedy and hungry and never satisfied. hes also emotive and desperate and--guma has so many layers that he hides. theyre the same like that, you get what i mean? and keria is the one person that sees guma for who he really is, and vice versa. theyre each others sanctuary; their escapes. gumakeria are the same but in different fonts. theyre equally devoted, and show it in their own ways. it truly is a push and pull. (i really need to write more guma-pov non-au gumakerias)

one thing that lowk pisses me off is the assumption of gumakerias dynamic being a sun and moon dynamic. theyre not. like, if you want to get superficial about it, they are, sure, aesthetically and when it comes to the "common pairing." but if you look deeper and try to find more meaning like i inevitably will bc im like that, you'll see theyre not the sun and the moon. theyre the sun and the stars (in the case of celestial bodies, and in the case of bodies of nature, theyre the sun and the sea). im not just saying sun and stars to be dIFfEREnt here. keria has always been a starboy to me, not a moonboy (oner is quite literally a moonboy lmao). so it sort of frustrates me. heres a line from one of my wips using sun/star motifs for guke: “The sun is a star, and I am yours.” (spoken by guma). THE SUN IS A STAR. and THAT IS THE FUCKING POINT. THAT IS EXACTLY THE POINT. the thing about the sun and the moon is that the moon reflects off the sun's light. the stars? the stars are the sun. the stars burn by themselves. THE SUN IS A MOTHERFUCKING STAR. gumakeria are both luminous and incandescent and theyre burning. they are both burning with want. guma is more overt, sure. keria is subtler. what he lacks for in mass, he makes up with quantity. they are the same, and that is the point. in my last retrospring submit, i called them two forces of nature, and that is exactly what they are. they collide and it's like two binary stars coalescing into one. its got the impact of a supernova, and its hot and bright, and... thats them, you know? that's gumakeria.

and you can translate their dynamic into so many things. so many aus, so many versions of them, so many... them. one sided, or reciprocated. them fighting for each other. someone struggling, one being so desperate. one being stable. one being fleeting. at the end, its just them. theyre so strong both romantically and platonically because of how much they get each other. like, do we even need to specify? its all and its both and its everything. they are everything.

part of what draws me to gumakeria is... well, that. theyre twin souls. they are so in tune with each other. they get each other. they are virtually the same, and see each other as that. its two people that want and are hungry and who will never get enough. keria is never satisfied: have we ever stopped to think if guma is? the thing is, the thing the two are satisfied with is one another. it will be them, forever. they are just bound. they are just together. i think they see each other like no other. and its their personalities and their ways of showing love and their selfishness and their wanting and their dynamic that just kills me. they have that surface layer of fluff and cuteness and govt assigned ship, just like guma has his surface, and how their dynamic has the surface of sun and moon. but underneath they are so perfect and introspective and moody and ITS FUCKING RIDICULOUS, HOW MUCH THEY LIVE IN MY BRAIN. how can someone be so in tune to someone else's emotions?? how can that happen? how are they so similar yet so different? theyre each others' grounding force. guma's the stability, sure, but hes nothing without the stability of keria and vice versa. they play that role for each other. they play all the roles for each other. they are vulnerable and emotive and there for each other. and, thinking back in rookie years, they grew with each other. theyre so strong and they have almost... unwritten history. theres just so much about them that i will constantly be in awe of. or, well. theres so much my mind builds. i have a whole palace of gumakeria floating in my head, and im finding so many nooks and crannies every time i look.

so! i hope you enjoyed my yap. ily, and thank you for reading :> gumakeria soulmatism! that is all.

[shammah8]

RHAPSODY OF REALITIES DAILY DEVOTIONAL~ PASTOR CHRIS

TUESDAY, 27TH FEBRUARY 2024

EVER-INCREASING PROSPERITY

Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, and cometh down from the Father of lights, with whom is no variableness, neither shadow of turning (James 1:17)

Something is wrong when someone who was once doing very well financially suddenly starts experiencing unimaginable, protracted financial trouble. Until and unless that individual discerns that that isn’t God’s plan for any of His children, he may blame circumstances, the government or other people around him for his predicament.

He might even blame himself for taking certain actions that he shouldn’t have. But the question is: Does he really know the truth? It’s important that you know who you are, who God is, what you have in Him, and who He is to you. God is your source.

The Bible says we’re heirs of God and joint-heirs with Christ. In Christ, your prosperity is stable and ever increasing. It’s from glory to glory. We don’t go up to come down. It makes no difference the level of inflation and how unstable the world’s economy gets; when you recognize that your true source is the Lord, you’ll be independent of circumstances, unruffled by the state of the world’s economy.

The Bible declares what the one who’s blessed of the Lord shall be like: “For he shall be as a tree planted by the waters, and that spreadeth out her roots by the river, and shall not see when heat cometh, but her leaf shall be green; and shall not be careful in the year of drought, neither shall cease from yielding fruit” (Jeremiah 17:8). This tells you something about the consistency of the prosperity of God’s people, following God’s plans.

Part of your new creation heritage is that you’re plugged into an unending supply. Your source never runs dry. Your source isn’t the government, society, job, business, family or anyone else for that matter; it’s the Lord. Look to Him and trust Him for your finances as youact on His principles for financial abundance.

CONFESSION

The Lord is my Shepherd—to feed, guide and shield me; I lack nothing! He makes me lie down in fresh, tender green pastures; He leads me beside the still waters. Therefore, I walk in ever-increasing prosperity, possessing enough to require no aid or support and furnished in abundance for every good work and charitable donation. Glory to God!

FURTHER STUDY:

Psalm 1:1-3 Blessed is the man that walketh not in the counsel of the ungodly, nor standeth in the way of sinners, nor sitteth in the seat of the scornful. 2 But his delight is in the law of the Lord; and in his law doth he meditate day and night. 3 And he shall be like a tree planted by the rivers of water, that bringeth forth his fruit in his season; his leaf also shall not wither; and whatsoever he doeth shall prosper.

2 Corinthians 9:8 AMPC And God is able to make all grace (every favor and [a]earthly blessing) come to you in abundance, so that you may always and under all circumstances and whatever the need [b]be self-sufficient [possessing enough to require no aid or support and furnished in abundance for every good work and charitable donation].

Luke 6:38 Give, and it shall be given unto you; good measure, pressed down, and shaken together, and running over, shall men give into your bosom. For with the same measure that ye mete withal it shall be measured to you again.

[mystifiedmess]

prongsfoot week day#1

•when and why did you begin to ship prongsfoot? what makes you ship it ?

i had always loved james and sirius as friends and their friendship, and just their dynamic, used to get grumpy when authors at times replaced or sidelined either of them in favour of a different character, or just made them two friends on paper and didn't give them the material. i always just looked at them with the "bestie lens"

the person who got me into prongsfoot was lovely miss– @padfootastic

intially i came across her fantastic opinions of sirius on someone else's blog and immediately thought - must follow this person she thinks on a similar brain wavelength to mine. stalked her blog and just was on a cotton candy moonland when i found her ao3 account. loved all her fics and her portrayal of james/sirius/harry to bits

(shovel talk , the whole notes app drabbles have become my comfort reads)

she's the one (well more like me stalking her blog and her wide variety of very enjoyable tags introduced me to romantic and queerplatonic prongsfoot)

also camichats on ao3 works of prongsfoot are like fresh rain on parched land, much needed and very well loved.

the why?

see, describing prongsfoot is very hard to me they just exist in their own bubble just orbiting next to each other. two peas in a pod– i could go on with epithets for them. something about the how every marauder has james as a best friend ™ but James has sirus does it to me. the almost devotional level of loyalty that these two have in each other, the extent of comfort and stability they see in each other how they are each other's home, hope and responsibility.

it's funny how they only have like five paragraphs in books (actually nvm- 5 is fine, jkr probably would have made james a figment of sirius plan's to bully Snape or something if she wrote their whole story) but almost every other dialogue sirius had he was like - james my beloved (and rip james you were dead from page 1 you couldnt get dialogues).

everytime i think about how sirius just went mad with grief after seeing james die – it fully breaks me. like there was just this one person who always used to cover for him, save him and excuse his actions who used to be the shield for sirius's rough edges and that person is gone now. for the first time since he was 11, he's unsupported. his home was killed

like it's hilarious to think about (not really) a group that was known for it's unending friendship (animagus, supporting financially) just broke like strings of marionette before even james potter body was fully cooled down. fuck he wasn't even buried when sirius was thrown in askaban (and turning 21)

in the end it's really intresting to think about a chance meeting with james on the train- pretty much changes his life path entirely– talk about a butterfly effect indeed.

the fic i was talking about in tags

[witcher-and-his-bard-archive]

For the kink ask - a/b/o?

I love your style and would really like to read your take on it (the pairing doesn't matter to me, though if you feel Eskel for this, I wouldn't be opposed 👀)

If it's not your thing that's of course alright too, then I'm just sending some love ❤

Thanks for the prompt, anon! 💖 I took this and ran, but I had a lot of fun with it. I have a feeling this isn’t exactly what you were thinking but I’m not personally into the a/b/o dynamics, so I messed around with it a bit and present to you: Eskel goes into heat during the full moon, when Geralt finds out he’s more than happy to get him through it. cw for dry sex, come as lube, and a whole lot of self-shame surrounding Eskel’s heat

After so many years on the path, time sort of ceases to exist. Most Witchers have some sense of time (the seasons continue to pass and their memories keep them from forgetting much) but Eskel has always been particularly fastidious about paying attention to the time of year, the time of the month. Unlike most of his brothers, he can tell you exactly how far away they are from the next full moon at any given time. When they were kids, it was an amusing trick for the other boys; they would all make guesses and whoever was the closest to Eskel's prediction would be able to hand off his chores to someone else. For them, it was a game, but for Eskel it was a necessity, knowing when the next full moon would come so he could seclude himself for the night.

No one else knows what happens to him during a full moon - if they did, they'd probably suspect some sort of lycanthropy and who knows what would happen to him then. But it's not like that. Eskel doesn't transform in the light of the full moon (although some days, he would prefer that), but suffers through unending, unquenchable lust. By the time most of the other boys were only starting to discover sexuality, Eskel had already been sneaking out of the keep at night to keep his secret from being found out.

And he got very good at it. For years, he managed to keep his secret and his sneaking around secret even from his closest friends. Which is why, a few weeks before they're supposed to be setting out on their own for the first time, Eskel is relieved. He no longer has to worry about lying or sneaking around or keeping things from his peers and advisors. Just a few more weeks and he'll be free. But, like everything in his life so far, it's not as easy as that. Two nights before he's due to leave Kaer Morhen, the moon is full.

Eskel works himself up to it, preparing his escape in advance as he does more frequently these days. The once-clumsy boys who grew up with are now strong men with proper control of their senses and escaping is not so simple as it once was. But he makes it out of the keep without any trouble. He's had to use axii on another boy more than once and he feels terrible about it even now, so getting out clean is the most favourable option. But once he gets off the grounds, he has a bigger problem facing him.

Over the years, Eskel has tried everything. At first, he tried ignoring it all night, but when that proved maddening, he'd give in to every whim but that was exhausting and painful after a couple of hours. His newest method seems to work the best: staving it off for as long as possible and then, once he's made himself come, sleep for as long as he can manage before the need creeps up on him again. It doesn't always work and a lot of the time, his own hand isn't enough to satisfy the need, but it's better than his other options.

Tonight is bad. Bad enough that he doesn't think he'll make it to the watchtower before giving in, but he grits his teeth and pushes forward. The longer he holds out, the better the night will be for him.

He makes it up to the watchtower and settles himself on the ground, leaning back against the wall with his hands clenched at his sides. His cock is already hard and aching, pressed firmly against the front of his trousers, and he refuses to look down, but he can feel the wet patch forming in the cloth.

Even after all these years, it's embarrassing to be like this. His entire life he's been trained to have control over every aspect of his body and yet, he still can't control this. His only solace is that no one has ever found out about it and he doesn't have to bear the humiliation of anyone seeing him like this.

Then, of course, that too fails. He doesn't hear the footfalls until it's too late to hide.

Eskel's breath catches and he's so overcome with terror that for a moment, he's totally numb to the need coursing through him. All he has time to do is pull his knees up before he catches a scent on the breeze.

Fuck. Geralt. Why does it have to be Geralt?

Of all the pupils and all the mentors in the keep, the very last person he wants to know about this is Geralt. As long as Eskel can remember, he's been closer to Geralt than anyone; they were friends from the day they arrived, but Eskel had grown overly fond of Geralt over the years. If there was ever anyone he might tell about his situation, it's Geralt, but Eskel's feelings for the other man get in the way every time. He doesn't anticipate anything ever happening between them, but he knows Geralt finding out would ensure nothing ever does.

A million things run through his head at once, but he knows it's already too late. If Geralt followed his scent, there's no way he could avoid noticing the arousal wound through it and Eskel knows he smells different during the moon than he does any other time. He should tell Geralt to leave him alone, tell him to turn back before he gets too close, but his voice isn't cooperating.

Feeling lost and hopeless, Eskel drops his head to his knees and grits his teeth. Having an audience isn't going to deter the feelings and he's hit by an overwhelming wave of humiliation as he imagines having to get through this while someone watches. Realistically, he knows Geralt wouldn't, that he would give him space, but he also knows that if Geralt knows something is wrong, he won't just leave him alone. Normally, it's one of the things he loves most about Geralt, his absolute devotion and protection of those he cares about, but tonight it's not working in Eskel's favour.

He's so caught up in pushing back the arousal, that Eskel doesn't realize when Geralt is sitting right in front of him. He's speaking, but Eskel can't understand through the blood rushing in his ears. It's not until Geralt touches him that Eskel's focus snaps into place and it takes all his strength to keep from shoving Geralt back against the ground.

"Go away," he rumbles and Geralt does exactly the opposite.

"What's wrong?"

"Geralt, just go." The ache is getting stronger now and Eskel is sorely tempted to rub himself off through his trousers. He thinks he could do it without Geralt catching on too quickly, but the longer he thinks about it, the stronger the feeling gets and he chokes on a moan as he shifts and his trousers rub against his sensitive cock. It's almost enough for him to come just like that, but he manages to hold back, some horrible combination of shame and disgust holding him back.

"Eskel-"

"Go," he says but his voice shakes and it's so hard to keep himself steady.

The thought of asking Geralt for help worms his way into his mind and he's so overwhelmed fighting against that and the urge to touch and the scalding humiliation burning up the back of his neck. Before Eskel can stop him, Geralt crawls forward, kneeling before Eskel.

"Tell me what you need," he breathes and Eskel is so tired of fighting. He whimpers and he doesn't want to ask for help, doesn't want to show weakness in front of another witcher, but he whines out a desperate please and Geralt doesn't hesitate.

"Let's get you out of this," he whispers, leaning in to tug Eskel's shirt up over his head. Immediately, the cold stone feels good against his back, but then Geralt is pressing between his legs and another rush of heat sears through him. "Come on, Es, let me get you out of these clothes."

Reluctantly, Eskel slips down, allowing Geralt the space he needs to tug his trousers down over his hips. He hisses as the cold air hits his cock, but there's a spike of arousal from Geralt and everything else is forgotten. Eskel reaches for him instinctively and Geralt settles next to him, pressing up against his side.

"Can I?" Geralt asks and when Eskel nods, he slides a hand down his stomach. Eskel is already thrusting up to meet him before Geralt even touches his cock. He hates himself for it, but Geralt just hums softly, winding his fingers around the base of him like it’s nothing.

Geralt barely even has to do anything because Eskel can't keep himself from thrusting up against him, grinding into the tunnel of Geralt's fist. He comes too quickly, spilling all over Geralt's hand and his own stomach and he's barely over the rush of his orgasm before the shame sets in again.

"Hey," Geralt huffs, "don't you dare." He presses right up against his side, pressing his nose into Eskel's neck. "You always helped me," he whispers, "let me help you."

Eskel's erection hasn't subsided in the slightest and he nearly cries out when Geralt touches him again. Geralt is slow and gentle and Eskel has to hold back from fucking up against him hard. It does feel better than on his own hand, but it's still not going to get him through the night; already, even the stroke of Geralt's hand is feeling less and less satisfying.

Eskel squirms under Geralt's touch, desperate for a firmer touch, for something more but he fights against it. He knows he has to slow this down because he knows how he inevitably winds up and he can't ask Geralt for that and he doesn't want Geralt seeing him do it to himself. He gets a hand around Geralt's wrist, trying to keep him from moving too quickly and when Geralt shifts, his cock presses into Eskel's hip and he's hard. Geralt squeezes around the head of Eskel's cock reflexively and that's all it takes to push Eskel over the edge again.

He throws an arm over his face, but when he comes down this time, Geralt moves his arm, looking down at him. His eyes are dark and Eskel can smell the lust rolling off of him now, but Eskel knows well enough that it's just a natural reaction. Geralt wouldn't want him in any other situation. But Geralt's chest is heaving and he looks so fucking nervous, looking anywhere but at Eskel's eyes.

"Can I-" he whispers, "I just- could I... kiss you?"

"Why?"

Geralt looks taken aback. "Because I... want to?"

Eskel opens his mouth to ask why again, but Geralt shifts to straddle his hips and he's struck dumb. He nods and Geralt leans down over him, barely brushing his lips against Eskel's before kissing him properly. Immediately, Eskel draws him closer, wrapping his arms around Geralt's neck and pulling him down to him. He doesn't have the strength to hold back, pushing his tongue between Geralt's lips and rocking up against him. If Geralt is hesitant, he doesn't show it.

He presses against him, rolling his hips in low, languid motions and while Eskel is currently in favour of quick, harsh movements, he finds himself lost in the movement of Geralt's body against his own. He arches off the ground, grasps at Geralt's neck and shoulders, moaning desperately into his mouth. He's never had someone with him for this, never even considered finding his release in someone else and for the first time in years it feels good.

Geralt shoves a hand between them without breaking the kiss, shoving at his trousers until he can pull his own cock free. He shifts to align himself with Eskel, using his hand as a guide to keep them pressed together as he rocks his hips a little harder. His breath is hot against Eskel's skin and the little gasps and moans that drop from his lips are almost enough to make Eskel think he could want this too.

Then, as Eskel is arching against him, Geralt's thumb slips up under the head of his cock and Eskel comes with a shout, breaking the kiss and pressing his forehead to Geralt's. He's only vaguely aware of Geralt grunting and then he collapses onto his chest.

Geralt has a hand wrapped around his side, brushing his thumb against Eskel's skin and it's the only thing that keeps him from getting up and running away immediately. Because a friendly hand is one thing but this was... more. He can hear his own pulse rise and he tries to slow it, evidently not quickly enough. Geralt nuzzles under his jaw, shushing him.

"'M not gonna go anywhere," he mumbles. "You didn't ever leave me."

Geralt shifts to the side and curls up around Eskel, running a soothing hand up his leg. It proves more than Eskel's hypersensitive body can handle and it's only a few minutes before he's hard again. He holds out as long as he can, focusing on Geralt's soft touches instead of the want coursing through him, but it's not enough to keep it at bay.

He smells more than feels when his cock leaks against his skin and he groans knowing that Geralt can smell it too.

"Fuck," Geralt mumbles, "it really is bad, isn't it?"

Eskel just groans in response but Geralt is already moving, rising to his knees again and kissing Eskel's chest. He's disgusting; sweaty and covered in dried come, but Geralt seems unconcerned as he makes his way down to the smear of pre-come above Eskel’s hip. He wraps his lips around the head of Eskel's cock and that's the end of coherent thought. All Eskel can even think about is the wet heat of Geralt's mouth around him, sucking hard and sinking down on him. He runs his fingers through Geralt's hair, gripping and tugging when his cock hits the back of Geralt's throat.

He comes startlingly quickly like this and Geralt follows almost immediately, jerking himself between Eskel's thighs.

The next hour passes in much the same way. Eskel holds out as long as he possibly can, but Geralt catches it every time. He licks and sucks and strokes and even gets his fingers into him and it's good. It's the best he's ever had if he's honest, but inevitably, it's not good enough. He's not oblivious to his body's needs, but usually fingering himself is enough to get him through the remainder of the night.

Geralt has three fingers in him and his mouth around Eskel's cock when he sighs and withdraws, sitting back up and running his hands up Eskel's thighs.

"It's not helping anymore, is it?"

Eskel groans and shakes his head, dropping it back against the ground. He stares up at the crumbled floor above him and wonders if he can hold out till morning, but Geralt is already moving. He shifts up close and he's naked now, bare skin pressed right against Eskel's and it's overwhelming and not enough. He can feel Geralt's cock against his hip and he's still hard, but Eskel doesn't have the energy to help him out. He shuts his eyes with a groan and he's contemplating sending Geralt back to the keep rather than face the alternative, but Geralt interrupts his thoughts with a kiss to his hip.

"It's okay," he whispers, "we'll figure it out."

Eskel knows they won't. He knows at this point there are only two things that will get them through the remaining hour or so until dawn. He's never tried fucking someone or letting someone fuck him, but he knows nothing else is going to work. If Geralt can't get him off, it's the only option. He can't say it though, so he just grumbles and shifts to try and get comfortable.

"I could... if you want you could fuck me?" Geralt offers.

Eskel lets out a helpless laugh. He lifts himself as well as he can manage and offers a hopeless grin at Geralt.

"I'm exhausted," he huffs, "I can barely sit up." It's not strictly a no, but it's not a yes either and he waits for Geralt's response. Geralt doesn't say anything, but he crawls up over him so he's straddling Eskel's hips.

"What if you didn't have to do anything?" Geralt takes himself in hand, stroking his cock where Eskel can't help but watch him. His own cock twitches with genuine arousal and Geralt rocks back against him.

"Geralt," Eskel chokes and Geralt just leans down over him, nuzzling into his neck.

"It's okay," he whispers, "I want to. I- I've thought about it before." That certainly catches Eskel's attention.

"What?"

"I-" Geralt ducks his head and Eskel can see just the fainted dusting of red across his cheeks. "I think about you sometimes."

"Not like this, though."

"No," Geralt admits, "but I thought about touching you."

"Yeah?" Eskel encourages. His cock twitches again and he wants to reach down and stroke himself off before the feeling goes away again, but he has a better idea. "Tell me." His hands slip up to Geralt's hips, pressing him back onto his cock and he groans as the head catches against Geralt's rim.

"Oh," Geralt groans and he sits back a little harder. It doesn't make any sense to fuck him; Eskel's already prepped and ready and he's going to ache tomorrow as it is. They don't have oil and he doesn't want to hurt him, but Geralt seems determined.

"I touched myself," Geralt breathes, "thinking about you. Imagining your hands on me, holding me, pressing me into-" he cuts himself off and his eyes snap up to Eskel's, but his scent flares hot and lusty. Pressing me into the bed. And gods, Eskel thinks, they may only have two days left, but he'll be damned if he doesn't find time to fuck Geralt into whatever surface he can find after this. Now, though, is not the time.

"I will," he promises, "I'll fuck you anywhere, any way you want me to, but you gotta do something for me first."

“Anything.”

“I need you to fuck me.”

"Eskel-"

"We don't have any oil and you already did such a damned good job of making sure I'm ready." Geralt preens at the praise and Eskel gets a hand around the back of his neck, tugging him into a slow kiss.

His whole body aches for release, but he lets himself linger, brutally aware of the time they've wasted. Geralt is the one to draw back, shifting to sit between Eskel's legs. Just the heat of his body, the way Geralt pushes his thighs apart sends shivers up his spine. That's a good sign, he thinks.

Geralt slips a finger inside him, then two, ensuring he's ready. Eskel appreciates the effort but it doesn't matter much either way. Geralt slicks his cock with the come still cooling on Eskel's chest and it's not ideal, but it makes some difference as he pushes into him. Geralt is cautious, but he keeps himself steady and the first proper thrust has Eskel's entire body lighting up.

Oh, this is what he's been missing all these years. The painful ache fades until he's left with nothing but his own want for Geralt, pure and real. He's still exhausted, but he musters up the strength to haul Geralt down against him, wrapping his arms around him and kissing him.

"Fuck," he breathes, "fuck, Geralt, you feel-" he's cut off by his own moan as Geralt thrusts sharply into him and Eskel's limbs shake. He doesn't try to talk again, but when Geralt kisses him, soft and sweet, despite the pistoning of his hips, Eskel thinks he understands anyway.

This time takes longer, but when he comes, it's with one hand around his cock and the other over Geralt's shoulder. Please, he hears and it takes a moment to realize it came from him. He doesn't plead, doesn't ask for anything during sex, but then again, nothing about this is normal. Geralt follows moments later, collapsing onto his chest and pressing soft, exhausted kisses along his collar bone. For the first time possibly ever, Eskel feels satisfied after a full moon.

Dawn finds them huddled together amongst soiled clothes and loose bits of stone. Geralt is lying almost entirely on top of him, but Eskel is warm and content. He doesn't dare move, lest his muscles scream of overuse, but there's no need to move anyway; he's through it for another cycle and, he suspects, the future will be easier. He runs his fingers through Geralt's hair with a soft smile on his face and watches in silence as the sun climbs up over the mountains.

kink prompts

[prose-for-hire]

Hopelessly devoted

Pairing: Faith x vamp!reader

Request: I was wondering if I could request something for a sort of ,,reformed'' vampire(theyve had their soul for a while) falling for either Oz or Faith and trying real hard to get on their good side? similar to that of spike I think only they arent as much of a creep abt it aojsbdis thanks

Requested by: Anon

Warning: Mention of killing in reader’s past.

A/N: There... might need to be a second part 💖

Hope was a concept you had always detested. It wasn’t tangible and it made people cling to things that often should have been long forgotten. Hope was something you had tried to remove from everyone’s hearts. Something that you detested more than the lives you had taken.

You had been around for some decades now. A lot of it was very similar. Human nature, for instance. They mistrusted you and for good reason. They could sense it although they did not know what the feeling was. The hair on the back of their neck would stand on end. Their heartbeats would quicken.

In the old days, this would excite you. Make you laugh even. The fear had been intoxicating. Like a fine seasoning. But now, it didn’t interest you. It just made you feel embarrassed.

You fought for your soul. Almost half a century ago now. You had come to terms with it, for the most part. Although, it wasn’t something you could get over in a night.

One thing, that had made your life brighter since was a sudden growing affection that had creeped up on you. For a Slayer.

It had given you a feeling inside. A small ember of something you hadn’t experienced long enough to name in the recent past. Something you hadn’t believed would be possible for someone like you. After all the ways you had tried to snuff the light from everyone else.

It was Faith. You were hopelessly devoted to her. In every sense. You would lay down your un-life for her. Commit every waking moment of yours to her. It was an unending, eternal affection that consumed every inch of you.

You hadn’t known what to do with it to begin with. How to express it. It soon became clear you would need to find a confidant as you couldn’t even begin to express these feelings to her. However, when you had bumped into Spike who you had known from the old days, he wasn’t much help.

For one, he was crying over Drusilla and completely drunk. Wasted out of his mind. The only advice that hadn’t been a slurred mess was when he advised you to watch her every movement until she wore down and gave you the time of day. Which, you had told him firmly that you wouldn’t be doing.

However, tonight, it did appear that this was what you were doing. She was walking through the graveyard alone and her scent had caught your attention as you walked through the streets looking for something to fill your time. Her natural scent was like a sweet perfume. It called to you. Sung heady notes of affection.

You had followed her to the graveyard. You weren’t skulking from the shadows. You weren’t prowling behind gravestones. You were just casually walking up to her. About to announce your presence.

What you didn’t realise was that she had been listening to music. Buffy had always warned her not to take her earphones to patrol but she trusted her instincts. And plus, she was so very bored without it. She often patrolled alone whereas Buffy got all her friends around her.

So, you were about to tap her on her shoulder and say hello when she swung around, taking you by the throat and slamming you against the closest mausoleum. You had squeaked in surprise and then subsequently coughed to try and cover it up as she did.

From nowhere she whipped a stake out and held it to your chest. Your eyes widened and your mouth opened slightly but no more sound came out. You just stood there, almost in awe of her as her hand clasped tight around your throat.

A thought came to mind, that you would at least be happy that she would be the last thing you saw before being damned to an eternal hell dimension.

“You wanna move that heart away from my stake?” She asked, when she finally registered that it was you.

“Sorry, I-I was just-” You stuttered as she moved away from the hold she had on you. You felt yourself move with her, trying to feel her touch for as long as possible.

“Following me? Actin’ on this massive jones you got for me?” She teased. She was joking but it wasn’t a joke to you. You looked away as she stepped back allowing you space. Your eyes had bulged in horror as you looked down, averting your gaze.

“I’m sorry, I was just trying to help”

“Yeah, well, don’t need my own stalker” She warned and you looked so beyond embarrassed it almost hurt her. She wanted to take her words back but she knew you would notice if she did.

“No! N-no not stalking, just making sure that you were, um, okay. I sensed you and-”

“I’m kiddin’, man, don’t freak” She punched your arm in a friendly way and both of you looked at each other slightly awkwardly. You frowned for a moment before you began to smile. She enjoyed the way it made your features brighten and it instantly made her feel better for having spoken the way she had.

“Sorry, I’m not really used to modern humour, I kind of shut myself away after I got my soul… I’m getting used to it though, it was… funny!” You blurted all of this out really quickly before adding the part at the end, trying to make her feel better. Her brow was furrowing again.

She found this admittance endearing almost. She watched your lips as you spoke. She wanted to kiss you. Usually she would make a move. She could give a person a look and end up taking them home. But this meant so much more. With you. She found herself getting a little nervous around you, wanting to make a move but feeling as if she would be rejected. Laughed at, although you had never been like that.

She couldn’t express her feelings. Instead she made jokes about you liking her, trying to gauge your reaction. Which, of course was neutral. Your mental health was still fragile ever since your soul had returned and you couldn’t risk the emotional reaction you may get if she tore your heart from your chest and crushed it with her bare hands.

“I can go though, if it would make you more comfortable-” You insisted, all you wanted was for her to feel comfortable around you.

“No!” She shouted, cringing at the note of desperation she heard in her own voice, “Uh, no, it’s nice to see you y’know? B’s always there when we’re talkin’ now”

You nodded, having noticed this too. When you and Faith would talk when you were able to meet the others in the library, Buffy and the others would always have something for one of you to do on the opposite side of the room. Or just plant themselves into your conversation.

It embarrassed you, that these people could tell that you liked her so much. That they were trying to save Faith from you. Your cursed love for her. Your heart was hers but you understood that just because it was reserved that way, it didn’t mean she would want to choose it from the pile.

This, actually, wasn’t entirely true. That Buffy was ‘saving’ Faith from you. And in some sense, Buffy was trying to save you from Faith too. She knew exactly what it was like to fall and be in a relationship with a vampire. The slayer and vampire love was one she wouldn’t wish on her own enemy. Not even Faith.

You were both good people, Buffy was sure of it, and so she was trying to prevent the inevitable heartbreak that she could sense building between you.

The blonde slayer had been surprisingly accepting of you on the whole, even in your more demonic years you had been more about survival than torture. Plus, you hadn’t been cursed your soul had been sought out - so you weren’t seen as that much of a threat.

This kept happening after a while. The two of you crossing paths on patrol. Until you began to plan where to meet in the evenings rather than hoping to bump into the other. You would meet and patrol together. Both of you enjoying these moments, Faith needed the company. She had felt very lonely until you had begun to power through your worries and try to befriend her the way you had always wanted to.

She enjoyed that it was you though. Your company she was keeping. She would run your interactions through her mind as she sat in her motel room. Just as you would from your crypt.

When you first got to know each other, you had begun talking and found commonalities. Reasons to become fond of the other. You noticed how she didn’t flinch away from you when she first learned about your past the way many others had.

You had been getting on so well that one evening as you were paying for your blood at the butchers, it dawned on you. You hadn’t been doing anything particularly meaningful. Just staring at the jars of blood, salivating guiltily. Until you thought it.

I love Faith.

Such a simple thought, but with such a rush of feelings behind them. It began to descend on you at once after this. A waterfall that you were sure would never stop flowing. You adored her. The way she moved, the way she acted. The softer side you had caught from her on occasion. When you had made her feel comfortable enough to let it slip even for a second.

It was another evening, after you had agreed to meet near the gargoyle that looked a little bit like the Mayor. You walked beside the other, where you would both wish for a demon to occupy your time if you were alone, you began to hope that nobody would interrupt your time together.

You would laugh and swap stories. It was everything. You stole glances at the other when you thought they weren’t looking. Your hands became so close when you were walking that you wanted to reach between the space and entwine your fingers with hers.

Faith had some trouble with getting the hang of this fighting technique that Wesley and Giles had insisted every Slayer should know. Buffy could do it with her eyes closed, of course and Faith was feeling like the understudy again. She wanted to hone her skills like Buffy did but without the ancient old guy staring at her while she did.

As you walked through the exit of the cemetery, you steeled yourself and decided to be brave.

“I could help, if you like…” You offered with a smile. You were experienced at fighting after all.

“Yeah?”

“Sure, as long as it’s not on a sunny afternoon” You joked which made her laugh.

“Hey, you’re gettin’ it” She nodded in approval of your improved humour since you and her had been spending more time together. You grinned gleefully at the compliment and she walked ahead of you, hiding her own smile at the way your face brightened at her words. She loved seeing you smile. Even more so when she was the reason you were smiling.

She stepped into the road and turned to you, wanting to get another look. So she could picture it later, when she was cold and only had the broken tv for company. You were looking at each other and just smiling.

Your smile suddenly dropped. You panicked, sensing the danger before she did. In the past, it would have been a good feeling, the lick of terror. It snapped through the air like a whip. Struck your senses in a way that would elicit a human’s hair standing on end. Goosebumps rising.

Accidental death meant tragedy. Blood. It meant adrenaline. Easy prey. You had enjoyed the taste. You hated that you had enjoyed the taste.

But the feeling was still identifiable. The warning signals still there but it now only meant dread.

Especially when it came to her. You ran at Faith, just hoping you would get to her in time.

“Faith! Watch out!” You screamed.

You tackled her, moving her out of the way of the oncoming traffic. Her slayer senses hadn’t been quick enough for the van that was heading her way. She had been so distracted by the way your features were lit up by the moonlight.

All of the time you had been spending with each other, hidden away from the others. Not telling them that you were together so often. She held onto this, needing this. Needing you. You were sweet, which she hadn’t ever thought she could call a vampire. Even less she wouldn’t think she would have fallen for such a seemingly sweet person.

You couldn’t lose each other, not now you were just finding each other.

You landed, tumbling together onto the other side of the road. Just in time. You landed above her, almost pressed flat against her. You couldn’t help just staring. Holding yourself up slightly so you could see her face.

She was trying to catch up with what had happened, her breathing heavy. That had gone so fast, she could have been really hurt. But you had saved her. Protected her.

She had always prided herself on the way she was so independent. On how she could look out for herself. But the truth was, she wanted you to be there. She wanted to be allowed to fall into your arms, just as she would hold you in hers.

You looked at each other and time stopped. Your eyes flickered from hers to her lips, if she blinked she could have missed it. Her eyes were scanning your face. She loved the way you looked at her as if the entire world revolved around her. You were so close you could feel her breath on your face. All you wanted to do was lean in and kiss her. Catch your lips with hers. She shifted slightly and you thought she might move in, but when she didn’t the feeling of desperate yearning turned into concern.

Concern that she may reject you. That you would no longer get these stolen moments. These patrols where all that made your soul feel relaxed. Comfortable. As if your soul could only feel safe when hers was near. She meant too much. You pulled away, moving your gaze from her.

You got to your feet and heard her exhale. You couldn’t tell if it was from relief or because of the same tension you felt. You weren’t sure you would ever know. You had tried so hard to get onto her good side. To show her you wanted to be friendly. But, this was so much more. It meant too much.

You offered your hand, helping her up and she took it. As she got to her feet, your hands clutching hers. The touch lingered. Until she pulled away. You didn’t realise but she had been about to lean in. Press her lips to yours, the way she had been imagining so often recently. But you had moved away too quickly.

You both looked at each other for a moment in silence before Faith nodded her thanks. You didn’t speak, as if it would be too much after what had happened. Both of you had known that meant something. That this was new. You dared to hope that the other felt the same, but both were too nervous to say. Because rejection, the thought of losing the other. The company. The understanding. Was too great.

You wanted to be hers. Wanted to tell her what she meant to you. You wanted happiness… love. But not at the expense of her feelings should she not reciprocate. So you parted ways, as you always did just before sunrise. You went your way, she went hers.

Your souls, they lingered together like your touch had, not wanting to leave their fate. Maybe one day, they might be allowed to stay together. Once you both worked on prising open your hearts. Allowing the other in.

All you had left now was hope.

[herstrayskies]

Matching Crowns

Yatori Week 2021 Day 4 - Moving Forward

Ao3 Link or read below~

Thanks to @asin-ka for being my beta <3

Matching Crowns

It had been four years since Hiyori was in the city inhabited by a wishful thinking God and his ever devoted shinki. She was only there to meet up with her childhood friends seeing that they had to beg her up and down for weeks to come and enjoy a weekend with them. The only thing that held her back was the possibility of running into him. So when she finally broke down and decided to come back home, the memories of her teenage years flooded back in like a tsunami the moment she stepped off that train. The temptation to visit her once favorite shrines tugged at the back of her mind like a fishing rod every time she passed them. The bait was ever so tempting but her pride was stronger.

That is until she heard his voice, smelled her favorite scent. Something that was a mix of cherry blossoms and honey.

-More under the cut-

The bustling of the city wasn’t enough to keep her eyes from finding him in a second. He was passing out business cards on the street to unkind people who passed him by without a hint of attention. But then again, she knew a lot of those people couldn’t see or hear him as he shouted his name into the unending crowd. She wanted to reach out and grab a card out of his hands for the sake of his happiness but she had to remind herself that they hadn’t talked to each other in years. Knowing well that he was the one that vanished from her life.

She readjusted the bag on her shoulder and turned away from her once friend; holding back the need to have her fate twined with his once again.

One Day Later

The bar was packed and Hiyori wasn’t much of a drinker but couldn’t resist her friends' smiling faces and pleading eyes when they asked her to go to their favorite hang out. It was dark and lit by colored ambient light like any other place. A mix of young and old people filled the booths and bar stools. It was loud but what bar wasn’t on a Saturday night? The three friends found an empty table in the middle of all the bustle and patiently waited to be served their first drink.

It wasn’t long before the round of drinks kept coming with each emptied glass. As the liquor started to calm her down, creating a light and bubbly atmosphere, Hiyori began to enjoy herself and forgot all about a certain boyish God.

The group of friends laughed over their high school adventures and talked about the new people they’ve come across in college. The two of them kept bugging her about any potential suitors but she waved them off each time, attempting to make them believe that school was more important to her. Which wasn’t entirely a lie but not entirely true either.  

Hiyori got up out of her seat to use the restroom and swayed her way down the dimly lit hall. She almost ran into a woman leaving the bathroom but was quickly able to avoid her only to tumble into someone close behind. She laughed and apologized without looking back and slipped into the restroom before the door closed. She could have sworn she heard her name whispered through the crack.

When she returned to the main part of the bar, she scouted out the area for her table. It was getting later into the evening which dissipated the huge crowds. What was left were the small groups of friends catching up, couples sharing secrets over drinks, businessmen being shaken awake by the bartenders, and the few regulars sipping their way through their favorite liquor. Eventually, people’s faces began to blur in with one another and the room started to spin. It wasn’t until a lock of dark violet hair passing her by that made her eyes go into focus again.

She really didn’t know he would be there. He wasn’t known to go to bars, not while she knew him. He was more into stealing beer out of her father’s or Daikoku’s fridge.

But the sight of him made the movement of everyone else stop. His name played on her tongue like the strong alcohol she had downed not even ten minutes ago. She wouldn’t let it spill but the temptation was a strong tug on her heart. Its beat sped up with each step she took towards him. It had been three years. Three years of silence and unanswered messages. Three years of desire and grief.

She grabbed onto his wrist without a care in the world and when his heavenly blue eyes met hers she felt that tight bond weaving through her fingertips again. She held on tightly to that feeling and spoke before he could even get a word out.

“I’m Hiyori Iki, and I was wondering if you’d like to have a drink with me.”

His laughter rang throughout the bar and into her heart. That was the smile she missed so much.

“Nice to meet you, Iki-san,” he wiped tears from the corners of his eyes, “Sorry about that but I’ve never had a girl, save for you, be so bold to flirt with me.”

She felt her face heat up and tried to convince herself that it was only the alcohol, “I’m very upfront about what I want.”

“Only when you’re drunk, right?

“Yes, ah wait,” what was she saying?

“As you should be,” he reached for her hand and pulled it up to his lips, leaving a brushed kiss on her knuckles, “please, call me Yato.”

Slightly annoyed that he knew how to appease her, with her lips quivering of the thought of those lips on hers instead, she smiled and took her hand away. Did he believe that she didn’t remember him or was he playing along?

“Nice to meet you, Yato.”

A blush crept across his face before turning away from her, “to the bar, shall we?”

She followed behind him and nodded towards her friends as she passed by their table. They seemed as shocked as she was that she was getting a drink with some random stranger. She noticed how he hadn’t changed at all, that none of her teenage years was a lie and she really was best friends with a God and his shinki. He asked her what she wanted to drink as they approached the bar. She told him to surprise her. He grinned that conniving grin and turned back to the bartender, ordering each of them a mixed drink she’d never heard of before.

“So what brings you here, Iki-san?” Yato passed her a glass and motioned for her to take a seat.

She shook her head, “call me Hiyori.” They sat down at a secluded booth near the back end of the bar. She watched as he stirred the contents with his finger before licking it clean. She tried her best not to stare but her eyes couldn’t help but gravitate towards his lips. She remembered them fleetingly, how soft and desperate they were the night before they last saw each other. She lowered her head, staring at her untouched drink. “I was meeting with my childhood friends. We happened to pass by this bar and decided to get a few drinks.”

Yato took a swig of his drink and grinned slyly, “happened to pass by, huh?”

The hairs on the back of her neck rose at his accusatory voice. It’s not like she knew he would be here but she could see how it would seem suspicious. She thought she hid it pretty well, acting like these past few years had wiped her memory clean of any evidence that he was real. She knew better than that, she could never get him off her mind. No matter how many boys glanced her way or tried to catch her after classes ended. She feared getting involved with anyone else would make her memory start to fade. And he was a memory she never wanted to forget.

“Ami and Yama said this is their favorite bar so they invited me to come check it out,” she admitted, taking a hesitant sip of her drink. It was a bit strong but nothing she couldn’t handle.

“Ah, and where are these friends of yours?”

Hiyori turned her head to find her friends sitting at the table she left not too long ago. They happened to both be staring at her, of course. They were always nosey when it came to Hiyori’s boy endeavors. She hesitantly waved at them as they returned more triumphant, attention-grabbing waves. Yama winked while Ami had a thumbs up. God, why were they like this?

She turned around to Yato’s big smile, a bit too overconfident for her liking.

“Looks like they’re cheering you on.”

Hiyori took another nervous sip of her drink, “they like to embarrass me.”

Yato laughed, making her wish more and more that she could just tell him the truth. That she in fact remembered him to the core. That she just wanted to reach across the table, grab the collar of his shirt and bring those idiotic lips to hers. She pushed the feeling deep down to the pit of her stomach.

“So what do you do, Hiyori?”

She set her drink down and continued with her facade, “well I’m studying medicine. My family has their own practice, a hospital actually, and I’ve always wanted to carry on the family trade.”

“Always?”

She stared at the ice slowly melting in her drink, diluting the alcohol. “I think at one point, when I was in high school, I didn’t really know what I wanted.” She noticed the silence between them carried on a little longer than she would have liked. She looked up from her drink and found a curious expression on his face. Almost hurt but uncertain.

“I guess most high school students are like that, huh?”

She couldn’t help but notice the wrinkles on his brow, the unspoken words on his lips.

“I guess so,” she was desperate to change the subject, “and you? What do you do.”

He shrugged and finished his drink, “I’m a man of many trades. I do what I can to make a living to support my family.”

“Sounds like your heart is in the right place,” she thought about Yukine and Nora and how well Yato got them accustomed to each other over the course of two years. How they slowly developed into this small, weird-found family. She took another sip, she hoped they were still happy.

“I wouldn’t be who I am without them, without-“

Hiyori raised her brows at him, wondering where his words were leading. He had covered his mouth to stop them from overflowing something not meant for her ears. She took a final long swig of her drink and tilted her head.

“What are they like? You’re family?”

Yato slowly dropped his hand from his mouth, a forced smile playing on his lips. He reached for his drink, “it’s gonna take a couple more of these to talk about my loved ones, Hiyori.”

For some reason that made her blush and she opted out to get up and order them more drinks from the bar. The rational thinking was completely wiped from her mind and she blamed the booze.

2 hours later

Her jaw started to hurt from the laughter and never-ending smile he continued to put on her face. She had missed his quirkiness and outright stupidity but she didn’t truly realize it until it hurt to smile. Over and over again.

He talked about his “kid” and how smart he was, how he studied every day even though he really didn’t need to. He praised his sister for overcoming her fears and guilt. He talked about the scuffles he’d get in with a certain glasses-wearing pervert and his long-haired skanky woman. He laughed about a certain clumsy girl with her rigid but loving partner. He talked about the family he found in them and how much he enjoyed their everyday adventures.

She couldn’t help but notice he never mentioned missing a certain girl who so terribly missed him. She put it to the back of her mind and continued to listen to his heartwarming and idiotic stories. It was as if she never left his side.

The snow was getting heavier as they trudged along the city's edge, walking over a bridge that seemed to be very familiar. He stumbled a bit due to a rock hidden among the blanketed snow or possibly the multiple drinks he downed before they left the bar and her friends behind. Luckily for her, the cold was able to sober her up just enough to keep an attentive eye on her friend.

“Be careful, Yato,” she said as she grabbed his arm to steady his balance. He turned his head and gave his usual silly lopsided grin. Oh, he was definitely drunk.

“Hiyori, you’re very kind, you know that?”

She felt a sudden feeling of dread course through her body. She didn’t feel kind, not at all. Not when she’d been lying to him this whole time. Until she reminded herself that without the lies, she wouldn’t be very kind to him at all. Not when he just up and left-

He slipped and fell to his back; sprawled out in the snow, he started laughing. She crouched next to him and wondered what could ever be so funny. Her eyes traveled to his lips, admiring his smile, brighter than a full moon on a clear night. To his eyes, bright pools of hope, joy, and love.

“Are you okay?” She asked as she reached out to help him back on his drunken feet.

He turned his head to the side to look at her, his blue eyes pleading for something she didn’t quite understand. His hand clasped around hers and he held onto it, making no sign of getting up from the snow-dusted bridge. He slowly brought her hand to his cheek and rested it there. Her hand rushed with heat along with her own cheeks. He chuckled and closed his eyes at her soft touch.

“I think this is the happiest I’ve been in years.”

“Years?” She played along, trying to not let her heart burst out of her chest for feeling the same way. “You just talked about how much you loved your friends and family.”

He slowly blinked at her, “I was a lot happier when my best friend was at my side.”

She tried her hardest not to reveal anything from her expression but she was sure she let a beat of sorrow slip, “What happened with them?”  

“How long are you staying in town?” He asked, dismissing her question.

She smiled softly and shook her head, “I’ll be returning to school tomorrow afternoon.”

His smile faltered for a split second, “Ever so fleeting, Hiyori Iki.”

“As is life.”

He laughed, deep from his chest and his heart, her hand still resting against his warming cheek. He closed his eyes and breathed out a heavy sigh, his breath visible in the cold, late-night air. “Will we meet again?”

Hiyori felt like a jolt of lightning struck her, she stood up quickly, ripping her hand from his, and began to walk away from the drunken God. Her mind was whirling with never-ending thoughts, his words from so long ago hammering her brain. We shall meet again.  

How horrible of him, she thought. The anger and sadness she felt that day when she realized he had stopped visiting her. Tears tried to break free but her desperate lie kept the mask on her face, hiding so desperately what she didn’t want him to find out.

She didn’t hear his steadfast footsteps and almost fell back onto him as he grabbed her wrist. She stopped, her feet almost crossing the line of the wooden bridge. She begged herself to keep on going, to forget this ever happened, forget the stupidity of her own decision of approaching him again tonight. She had let the alcohol get the best of her, after three years of forcing herself to stray from the person she loved most in this world.

But his hand was so warm, wrapped around her wrist, his fingers soft and tender as the night those very same hands caressed the back of her neck, kissing her with all the love he had stored away in his heart. She remembered the way he murmured I love you’s against her lips as she nervously chuckled, repeating it back to him.

“Please don’t go, Hiyori,” he pleaded.

She continued to stare down at her own two feet, wondering if he’d continue to come after her if she pulled away again. He said something under his breath, too low for her to hear and she forced herself to look back at him. His eyes sorrowful and lost, a look of desperation splayed across his face.

“What did you say?” She asked, scared to hear his answer.

“I’ve missed you.”

Four Years Ago

The party had quieted down by evening. Kofuku was passed out drunk under the table while Daikoku took care to clean up the leftover food and drinks without waking her. Yukine and Nora sat on the back porch in lightweight coats, watching the sunset behind the clouds. Hiyori sat at the table looking at her and Kofuku’s unfinished game of Onigiri roulette. She was happy for the small graduation party her friends had thrown for her and even happier that Yato was the one to organize it. After missing her birthday the first time around, he always made sure to never forget it or other important events again.

She reminisced a few hours back when she walked in and everyone cheered “Congratulations'' to her. Food was hot and ready to be eaten, a few graduation gifts in the corner of the room begging to be ripped open. They ate, played games, and re-lived events that had long come and gone.

She smiled as her fingertips brushed against the notebook Yukine had gotten for her. “Don’t Give Up,” was sprawled across the top. He told her that as long as she’d write her class notes in there, she would never fail a test. A blessing from a God’s Guidepost in the form of a lucky charm.

Hiyori looked up at Daikoku as he lifted Kofuku in his arms, staring lovingly at his Goddess before realizing he was being watched. She almost felt jealous, wishing she had someone to look at her like that.

He cleared his throat. “I’m gonna take the missus to bed, why don’t you go see what Yato is doing?”

She wondered if he could tell she was thinking about him, “where did he go?”

He shrugged, “he probably slunk back to his room after realizing he’s the only one who didn’t get you a present.”

Hiyori laughed, “I don’t need him sulking like he did when he found out about my birthday that first year,” she got up and dusted off her skirt, “guess I’ll go see what he’s up to.”

She watched as he took away Kofuku before heading up the stairs. Odd metallic noises could be heard from the hallway but she couldn’t quite figure out what it was. She made her way to the top and opened the doorway to his room.

She found him there, sitting at the small desk against the wall, working on something. She quietly made her way over to him, hoping not to alert him, and stopped as she was close enough to peer over his shoulder. She couldn’t see what he was working on.

“So this is where you disappeared to?”

Startled, Yato put his hands over something on the table and looked up at her, “H-hiyori! What are you doing here?”

She laughed, “Well I was wondering where the organizer of my party went and had to come looking,” she tilted her head, “what are you working on?”

He looked back to his hands, “um well, I’m kinda working on,” he paused before looking back to her, “a gift for you.”

“For me?” Her voice hitched up with anticipation, “what is it?”

“Well, it’s not done yet. I meant to finish it up last night but Yukine and I got a job and it was very tiring you know,” he looked at her with desperate eyes, “I got back home, immediately crashed on the floor and didn’t have time so I thought…” he trailed off. She could tell he felt bad for not getting her gift done in time for the party but it made her heart flutter knowing he was making something special for her. She sat down cross-legged and turned her back to his, slightly leaning against him.

“Can I keep you company while you finish it? I promise I won’t look.” She listened as he readjusted his position to uncover her unfinished gift.

“That would be nice,” he admitted. He started working away again, his back shifting against hers once in a while. It was warm, he felt warm. She brought her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, resting her head on top.

“Thank you for the party, Yato. I had a lot of fun.”

“O-of course. You graduated High School! It only happens once in life you know.”

She laughed, “I do have to say though, I can’t believe you left me to play Onigiri Roulette alone with Kofuku.”

“I’ve played way too many times, I don’t need a mouth full of toothpaste again, no thanks.”

Hiyori straightened up and turned just enough to see the side of his smiling face, “still, I expected you to be there but you crawled away without even a word.”

He bit his lip, his eye-catching hers, “I’m sorry,  I just really wanted to give you this.”

Hiyori ever so casually placed her chin on his shoulder, their faces mere inches apart, “this gift must be extra special then.” Without realizing it she took in his calming and sweet scent. How she wished it was her own.

His face flushed and he turned away from her eyes, “y-you promised you wouldn’t look.”

She peeled away and readjusted herself, pressing her back into his once again, “sorry, I couldn’t help myself.”

He mumbled something under his breath but continued to work. The silence pressed on and anticipation slowly scratched at her heart.

“Have you heard back from any colleges yet?”

Her heart sank with the deep weight of a folded-up letter in her skirt pocket. She had planned on telling him. She really did. But every day it seemed harder and harder. Being accepted to a prestigious medicine school that was hours away from her best friend was a hard pill to swallow. She had no idea when she’d find the time to visit him and she didn’t want him to forget his duties, put them on the sideline for her. With him on the way to becoming a God of Fortune, she couldn’t let him give that up for her. He also had his responsibility to be there for Yukine more than her. She could never deny that. Not after everything that they had been through.

She just had to tell him, grab the letter out of her pocket and show him the good news-

“Not yet, but I’m pretty positive I’ll get into the place I want,” she hated lying.

“Definitely! You’re so smart, I know you’ll do great.”

She smiled at his compliment. She kind of knew it herself but hearing it from the person you like is a completely different story.

“Okay, It’s all done,” his voice was chipper, “Hiyori, close your eyes, please.”

She did. She felt him shift behind her, felt the brush of his knees against her lower back as he knelt down behind her. Then, ever so cautiously, his hands collected her long hair to move over her right shoulder. His fingertips brushed against the nape of her neck and a small shiver ran through her back, more aware of his fleeting touch. She felt nothing for a few breaths until something light and small tapped the center of her upper chest. Instinctively she moved her hand to check it out but Yato’s own hand caught hers before she could.

“Not yet, just one more second,” he released her hand and she put it back into her lap while he went back to work. She tried her best to keep her mind off his timid and floating touches but every nerve in her body wanted to focus solely on where his hands were.

“Okay, you can open your eyes now,” he said as his hands disappeared from her senses, “Congrats on graduating, Hiyori.”

When she opened her eyes and looked down at the golden necklace hanging from her neck she almost gasped. She picked up the charm between two fingers and admired the handiwork made by the hands of a god. By her friend, Yato.

It was a crown, small and golden. One that matched his own. May our fates intertwine engraved neatly on the back. She fought the tears building up behind her eyes as she turned on him. His face was flushed, an embarrassed smile playing on his lips.

“I love it.” She said, still holding onto the small crown in her hand.

“I’m glad. I hope you don’t think it’s weird I just thought-“ he stopped as she rested her hand on his chest, her fingertips brushing against the crown embroidered on his tracksuit.

She smiled, earnestly as ever, “we match.” She kept her eyes level with the crown, too shy to make eye contact, too embarrassed to see what kind of expression he would make next.

To her surprise, he reached for the very hand placed on his chest and rested it on top of hers. She felt his heartbeat start to pick up a fast and steady tempo. What was this feeling that pulsated under her palm? What was his heart trying to say? Surely he didn’t feel the same...

She hesitantly looked up and met his burning eyes. Her own heart started to fluctuate as she noticed the heavy blush across his cheeks and at the tip of his ears.

Oh.

“Does it make you happy that it matches?”

“Y-yeah. It’s like I always have a part of you with me,” she bit her tongue from saying anything more.

She felt his hair brush against her cheek as he fell forward a bit. His breath inching closer to her ear.

“May I say something?” He asked, barely above a whisper.

She nodded her head, unable to get an unshaken word past her lips.

He rested his forehead on her shoulder, breathing an unsteady breath down her collarbone. His heart wasn’t letting up now nor anytime soon.

“I’ve been wanting to tell you this for a very long time but I just didn’t know when the right time would be.” With his head back up, he took her hand in his before bringing it to his lips, mimicking that first night at Capybara Land. The hair on the back of her neck rose with the certainty that her heart was in sync if not faster than his now. He smiled nervously but lovingly all the same behind their hands, “Forgive me if I’m out of line but, Hiyori...”

She sucked in a hesitant breath. No, he couldn’t, there’s no way he-

“I love you,” he let out a relieved sigh, “I love you and it's something I’ve been sure of for a long time now,” he briefly kissed her shaking fingers before letting the hold on her go, returning her hand to his chest where she once felt his heart's beating. It fluttered beneath her hand like a scared little bird.

She was scared too. She parted her lips to reply but closed them soon after. She wanted to say so many things with the first thing being I love you too . She wondered if it was okay to love him at all, a God.

He smiled nervously at her silence and chuckled. “You don’t need to reply now or even ever if you don’t want to. I’ll understand if you don’t want to-“ he stopped at the feeling of her hand trailing its way up past his heart, to the side of his neck to his cheek. She felt the heat beneath it, his true feelings. She met his eyes and returned a nervous smile.

“Actually, I uh,” she bit her bottom lip before parting them once more, “I feel the same.”

His mouth was agape and she had to suppress a laugh at his shocked expression.

“R-really? Are you sure you don’t mean something else?”

“Yato, be more confident in yourself. I’ve told you this multiple times.”

“Yeah but I just want to make sure it's the same way I feel,” he grumbled.

She sighed and swallowed her nervousness. “Yato, I love you,” she tilted her head, “I’ve known for quite a while myself.”

He smiled, “when was this?”

Hiyori pursed her lips, “when you left to find your father and I came after you. Kazuma stopped me and told me that a God can never love a human.”

It felt good to get it off her chest but she immediately had to talk Yato out of beating up his former shinki.

“It’s fine, right? He was wrong,” she reassured him.

He reached for both her hands and brought them towards his lips, he kissed them and looked at her with unwavering eyes. “He was very wrong. I’ve never loved anything more in my life than you.”

She swallowed hard as her whole body heated up at his words. She watched as he lowered her hands to fit in the space between them. He inched closer, his eyelashes fluttering.

“Hiyori, can I try something new?”

“W-what?” She had an idea as she saw him quickly lick his lips. Oh man was the room getting hotter or was it the verge of springtime flowing in from the window?

All of a sudden his hand was caressing her warm cheek, her embarrassment reflected upon them with a shade of pink.

“I think you know,” he chuckled nervously.

“I d-don’t unless you clearly s-say it.”

“May I kiss you?” It came out as a soft and careful question and it warmed her heart that he asked. He knew what heartbreak and suffering the last one caused her. She squeezed his other hand that was still holding onto hers. She couldn’t get any words out so instead she nodded.

First, she felt his hair tickle her forehead and the side of her cheek. Next was the warmth of his exhaled breath before taking one in. Last was his hesitant lips hovering over hers before she pushed herself to steal away the last remaining space between them.

She didn’t know the full extent of what a real kiss could feel like. She didn’t know it would make her stomach flutter, her fingertips tingle, her heart burst into a tiny flame. His lips were soft and warm and so gentle. He began to pull her in more and more with each sparing breath they took. When his hands took roost on her hips it felt like nothing she’s ever experienced before. It felt electrifying. It felt right.

She had to keep telling herself that this wasn’t sudden in the slightest. It wasn’t as if they hadn’t seen this coming. Not when soon after defeating his father they started to confide in each other more and more. It wasn’t as if after that first accidental handhold under the kotatsu, that his hands just so happened to entangle themselves with hers on occasion. He would never take a hold of her hand after walking her back to her house, kissing the inside of her palm before their goodnight farewells. She definitely didn’t find excuses to give him hug after hug. As if she wanted to feel the warmth and closeness of his body, to get a secret whiff of her favorite scent. She wouldn’t even admit the fact of him kissing her forehead a total of eight times.

And no she certainly was not keeping count, but she would admit that most of them were when their lips had almost met each other’s, but one would reel back in realization. He’d give her a kiss above her brow for forgiveness.

But now he was murmuring I love you over and over again against her heated lips. She had her shaky hands wrapped around his neck, pulling him in closer and closer like an uncontrollable need. She had wanted this for so long; since the moment he appeared to her with his broken shrine in hand but instead of looking at the damage her eyes couldn’t stray away from those lips.

The early spring was cold but Hiyori wasn’t lacking in warmth. Yato helped with that.

“Shouldn’t you be heading home soon?” He said in a soft, warm voice, his fingers brushing hair behind her ear.

“Probably,” was all that she could muster. He laughed as he wrapped his arms around her shoulders. He sat behind her now, with enough room between his legs for her to sit perfectly, her back against his chest. She liked the feeling of his heart pounding behind her, his breath tickling the side of her neck, his hand reaching for hers. She grabbed on and squeezed, realizing she really didn’t want to go home.

“I’ll walk you home if you want,” he suggested.

“Are you trying to get rid of me?” She teased.

“Believe me, Hiyori, I don’t want you to leave, not ever. But I also don’t want your family to panic when they realize you aren’t home.”

A hum escaped her lips. He was right but there was one thing she had to do before she left.

Yato seemed surprised as she turned around on her knees to fish something out of her skirt pocket. His eyes never left the rummaging of her hands even as they pulled out a folded piece of paper. He looked up at her and cocked his head as she tried to hand it to him.

“Go ahead, read it,” she said in a soft voice.

He did and it didn’t take him long to realize what it meant, well partly. He crashed into her, almost knocking her back onto the floor. He held onto her tightly and an excited laugh rang in her ear.

“I knew you’d make it in, Hiyori! I just knew!”

She hugged him back and buried her face in the crook of his neck. She was happy but the pit in her stomach was still there.

“You’re going to be amazing! Dr. Iki. Doesn’t that sound perfect?”

She pulled back and smiled lightly, “I’m excited,” she admitted, “but it’s far away, Yato.”

His happy face only faltered for a split second before he was able to put it back on. “I’ll come visit you every day.”

Hiyori laughed, “I’d love that, but please don’t forget about your first priority. Yukine will always need you.”

“Of course, I’ll be there whenever you want. I’m just a wish away.”

“Is that your new slogan?”

He placed a kiss on her forehead, “only for you, Hiyori.”

And he was right. He visited every day she wished him to. In between classes when quick kisses were stolen in empty hallways, on weekends when she had caught up on school work, and nights when the winter chill was just too much for her to bear alone. Some days they’d get lost in meaningless conversations or games while others they’d bask in silence and kisses.

On occasion Yukine would tag along, the three of them doing everything but also nothing in particular. It was like nothing really changed.

Not until he caught her with a failed test result.

“Are you sure you’re doing okay, Hiyori? Am I coming here too often?”

She jumped up at the question and stared down at him, lying next to her on her dorm room bed, “I’m doing fine! I just,” she paused trying to come up with an excuse, she sighed when she couldn’t, “forgot about it.”

He reached up and cupped her cheek, “remember when you said Yukine is my main priority? School is yours, don’t neglect it because of me.”

“I promise, I won’t.”

It was the only promise she managed to let slip from her hands. The last night they spent together was full of affection and words of love. He had gently taken her crown necklace that she wore every day between his two fingers and smiled at her.

“I’ll always love you, Hiyori.”

Present Day

Hiyori gripped onto the end of her sleeve like it was a lifeline. He had known all this time and hadn't said a word to her. He had known she was lying this whole time, acting as if she had forgotten him.

"You knew?"

"Of course I knew.”

“Did you follow me today, to the bar?”

His eyes flicked away and he shrugged.

“What was your plan? To avoid me the whole time I was there and hope I didn’t see you? Did you plan to approach me at all?”

“I don’t know I-“

"Why haven't you said anything? Why did you play along?  All these years..."

He scratched the back of his head. “You were failing your classes, Hiyori. I saw your scores on essays and exams. I was a distraction, I’m not that naive to realize it wasn’t good to have me around all the time.”

“You didn’t say a word to me. You just stopped responding to me. Do you know what I went through?”

He watched the snowfall melt into the pond below them, below the bridge. “I do. Do you think I could go years without checking up on you?”

She clenched her teeth, “of course you did, you’re a high-class stalker.”

He chuckled and she almost had the nerve to push him over the bridge into the cold water below.  

“Then why,” she pleaded, “if you knew how broken I was after you left without a single word, why did you never tell me why you left.”

“Because,” he paused, meeting her angry gaze,  “I knew if I went to see you again, I wouldn’t be able to leave a second time.”

She ripped her hand from his and walked off the bridge. She wanted to yell at him, to call him selfish for all that he has done. But she couldn’t deny that he was right. After he disappeared, her grades skyrocketed, her focus shifting back to schoolwork. It was something to keep her mind off him. She also knew if he did come back to visit her, she would have found a way to make him stay.

“Do you know how hard it was to keep away from you, Hiyori? Every day I had to convince myself to not approach you, no matter how desperate I was.” She heard him sigh. “It took all my willpower to not let you see me again after that night.”

She stopped and spun around on him. "That night…"

“I knew it would be the last, that’s why I told you-”

“Shut up.”

He reached out for her, “Hiyori-“

“I said shut up!” Her hands were balled into fists against her side, her eyes never straying from the snow-covered ground.

He dropped his outstretched hand, hiding them deep within his pockets. “I’m sorry. I realize now I probably should have approached the situation differently.”

“It was inconsiderate.”

“I know.”

“Selfish and so stupid.” She couldn’t hold back her tears any longer and she flinched when his hand touched her cheek. She looked at him timidly, letting his thumb wipe the tears from her eyes.

“I’m an ass, that’s for sure,” he admitted.

“Most idiotic God for a boyfriend.”  

“Hiyori, please-”

Her lips met his again, this time drowned by the saltiness of her tears. He accepted it with eagerness and pulled her in tight. There was sadness and desperateness behind her kiss. Something so raw and powerful that it almost made him falter at the knees.

She pulled away to only have him pull her in again. Keeping her lips and body hostage to his demand. She didn’t mind it but the longer this went on the harder it would be for her to walk away.

When they did, his arm lingered on her shoulder and down to her fingertips. They tingled and shook at the thought of not being able to see him again for God knows how long. They met eyes and she smiled first, her makeup running down her face.

“Will you come see me again?” She was almost afraid to ask.

He closed the distance once more, leaving a feathered kiss on her brow before tapping her forehead with his.

“Only if you keep your grades up. How many more years do you have until I start calling you Dr. Iki?”

She laughed and sniffled, her feelings all over the place. “Too many.” Looking up to his eyes she noticed he was staring down at her chest, at her necklace. “I wear it every day, you know.”

“I know, I’d sometimes watch you put it on.”

She shoved him playfully and he put up his hands in defense, “please forgive me my beautiful and ever so devoted girlfriend.”

“You’re gonna have to kiss up to me better than that for all the years you left me alone.”

He grinned, “Shall I start with your lips?”

“Hmm,” she hummed, “how about you start by walking me back to my hotel room?”

He grabbed her hand, “as you wish.”

[st-just]

Just finished Pact. I haven't really put together my thoughts on it yet, but I'm glad the ending was less saccharine (I think you found the perfect word there) than Worm.

Not sure if I want to dive right into another Wildbow work or give myself a break. But thanks for the nudge to read it.

Also, Pact barely registered as bleak to me.

I actually really adore Pact's ending - just the perfect tone of bittersweet for me. The whole third act is also great in a 'unending series of heavy metal covers' sort of way, and I really love both Johannes self-sacrifice and Rose's claiming of the estate for the Abyss as visuals/scenes/dramatic beats.

Also specifically the visual with the half-bisected dragon and the three portals to different demon-haunted worlds belongs airbrushed onto a van somewhere. I have want to spent the hundreds of dollars it would take to comission fanart worthy of it.

But okay, so in terms of what I mean by Pact's bleakness, three main things.

-The 'solving the Fermi Paradox with demons' thesis. That the world is only the smallest shattered fragment of something so much grander - that we're so far gone with we've lost even the ability to comprehend that we've lost something. Idk maybe just the frame of mind I was in when I first read it, but that really hit me.

-Again, just as a personal thing that got to me, the 'Echoes that exist as literally moments of suffering, with just as much self-awareness and feeling as necessary to feel and understand the suffering as fully as possibly in each recitation" thing.

-The broader themes about oppression and inheritance. There is a cosmic Right, a judgement form the heavans and the spirits that ensures in the end everyone more or less gets what they deserve. It is horrifying, and incredibly unjust - except that it is, in fact, Objective Justice. Hierarchy and oppression and suffering are encoded into the structure of the world, and talent and drive matter but your place in those hierarchies matters so much more.

Rose and Blake are good examples of this - over the course of the story, they escape the inherited debt to the literal demons, the worst and most evil beings in the setting. And what does it cost? Well, in Blake's case, he does escape, at the low, low price of all humanity and also all power and ability to effect the world. He gets to be a cool bird hermit in the wilderness, outside of all civilization but with his killer mermaid gf and adopted 12-year-old ghost. Rose stays enmeshed in civilization, and escapes the shadow of her family by making herself a devoted and useful agent of an entirely different and marginally less horrific (but still very horrific) brutalizing and hellish supernatural force. Also an entirely loveless political marriage and slowly being corrupted by the literal incarnation of Imperialism.

Again not, like, uniquely bleak or anything. And probably wouldn't be quite so affecting if I read it now. But the implicit binary isn't exactly uplifting.

Anyway, in terms of other Wildbow works - like, absolutely take a break and read someone else first. But I really would recommend Pale. Same setting as Pact but unrelated stories and casts. His writing improved noticeably in the years between, and the characterization is just leagues better.

[cyhyr]

Whumpmas In July: Closure

Fandom: Naruto

Rating: E

Pairing: Hatake Kakashi/Umino Iruka

WC: ~3950

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Notes: Wakes & Funerals, Angst, fluff, smut, blow jobs, hand jobs, moving in together

A/N: BUT LIKE THIS IS JUST P0RN WITH *~*FEELINGS*~*

Conclusion, Starting from "Sleep"

Read After “Hope”

For @whumpmasinjuly prompt list

Read on The Archive

~

Kakashi sits on the edge of the bed and watches Iruka dress. Black on black on black formalwear; he’s dressed similarly. Iruka is fidgeting with the buttons on his shirt, watching himself in the mirror that hangs on the closet door. His hair is still loose, slightly damp at the ends from his shower and curling at his shoulders. It’ll straighten as it dries, Kakashi knows.

“Love.”

Iruka drops his hands. He’s been fumbling the same button for a few seconds.

Kakashi stands and crosses the room. He reaches around Iruka, drawing his back to his chest, and finishes the line of the shirt. With gentle coaxing, he turns Iruka around and then pulls him back into a tight hug.

“We don’t have to do this. You don’t have to do this.”

Iruka rests his forehead on Kakashi’s shoulder, his hands light on his waist. “No one else will,” he says quietly.

“That doesn’t mean it’s your responsibility.”

“What am I supposed to do? Just let his spirit float aimlessly?”

Kakashi doesn’t respond. He doesn’t know how. He just holds Iruka tighter.

“I need this,” Iruka murmurs. “I need to do this.”

“Alright,” Kakashi kisses his hairline. “Alright.”

~

He stays at the edge of the cemetery, watching Iruka and the priest speak. He’s too far away to hear. He doesn’t care.

The fuck died a traitor to the village, a rapist and an abuser to the end.

All around this cemetery are the ancestors of civilian families who have lived in Konoha and the Land of Fire for decades, centuries. This… he doesn’t deserve to share the same space as them.

But.

Iruka fought for it. He petitioned Tsunade, and spoke to the priests, and arranged for as many of the funeral rites as he could reasonably be allowed. Mizuki’s name won’t go on the Stone, nor was he allowed to be enshrined in the cemetery with other fallen shinobi. And Iruka was… he accepted the terms.

So this morning they picked up Mizuki’s ashes and bones.

And now they’re here, with incense and candles and one lone white chrysanthemum in Iruka’s fingers. When they’d gotten here, the priest had asked if they wanted to wait for anyone else, but Iruka had sadly murmured to just get it over with. No one else was coming. Iruka had sent out notices to their classmates, old coworkers, the woman that Mizuki had after Iruka; no one had responded.

Kakashi had held Iruka through the disappointment last night. Iruka had hoped that the woman, Tsubaki, would at least show. But yesterday was just like today; nothing and no one else.

So he watches. The incense is lit and prayers are said, the bones and ashes are laid before the gravestone, covered with the wooden marker and one of the few photographs Iruka still has of Mizuki, one taken back when they both had finally completed their first year of teaching.

“This one,” he had said, picking it out of the album. He had put his fingertip lovingly over Mizuki’s face and held back tears, continuing, “We. We were happy, then… I think. Maybe it wasn’t real, but it felt—right.”

Finally the priest finishes the prayers and rites, and the ashes and bones are buried, the marker placed. The priest seems to offer Iruka their condolences one last time, and then leaves. Kakashi holds up a hand to stop them as they approach, and takes out a heavy envelope from his inner jacket pocket. With a slight bow he offers the envelope to the priest, and they accept it silently.

Iruka had told him he could cover the expenses for the service.

Kakashi needs to do this for him, though. It’s all he can do now, really.

Because he’s trying. He’s trying to be objective at least. But this dick abused his lover for years, conditioned him into acting certain ways under stress; and now Iruka takes a small cocktail of medication everyday to keep himself stable. And he can’t forget that, let alone forgive. He won’t.

He’s glad Mizuki’s dead. And also, he’s of the opinion that Mizuki doesn’t deserve the same rites that the dead typically receive. He doesn’t deserve to be treated with the same dignity that everyone else is—Minato-sensei, Obito, Rin.

(Not his father. He. He never did this for Sakumo. He was too young, in too much pain, and the village was all too pleased to see Sakumo gone. He regrets that now, but he can’t�� well. The bones and ashes are still in the family shrine. Maybe…)

So instead he pays for the service, and for the cremation, and for the burial, and includes a significant donation to inspire the priests to come by and pray over Mizuki’s grave for the next year or so. Because that’s what Iruka would want. He would want someone to help this poor fuck, even if it couldn’t be himself.

Kakashi wonders if Mizuki knew how lucky he was, to have the devotion of the one person in the entire village—likely the entire world—who knows only how to see the good in people. He wonders if Mizuki knows now how lucky he is, that even though Iruka killed him, even though Mizuki raped him and beat him and brutalized him… Iruka is here, when no one else would step up, praying over his ashes for his soul to find peace.

Because—and it hurts to admit it—Iruka loved him.

Iruka smiles and the sun comes out; Iruka leans on Kakashi and the south winds warm him from the inside out; Iruka kisses him and it’s a revelation. And it’s his capacity to love, and especially to love broken people, that’s given Kakashi the chance to have this. Not his humanity—though that is such a bonus—but this unending fount of love Iruka seems to be made of; that’s his strength.

It’s also his most dire weakness. And Mizuki took advantage of that. He took all the love Iruka gave him and twisted it into something dark and bitter. But instead of running or fighting like any other shinobi should have, Iruka’s response was simply to love Mizuki harder. Maybe they drove each other to the heights of insanity they eventually reached.

Kakashi will never know. And after today he won’t care.

He enters the cemetery to go and stand silently beside Iruka, still praying. Eventually, Iruka picks up his head and leans against Kakashi’s thigh.

“It wasn’t all bad, y’know,” Iruka mutters.

Kakashi doesn’t respond, only carefully places his hand on Iruka’s hair and petting gently.

“After the Kyūbi attack, we roomed together until we graduated from the Academy,” Iruka says. “Sometimes the heat would go out and he would come and huddle with me with all the extra blankets we had.”

He was probably just cold too.

“He stayed up all night with me to practice the clone jutsu before our final test, so we could graduate together.”

He was using your natural ability to teach to learn a last-minute technique.

“He taught Naruto how to roll omelets. That was. That was a nice morning.”

He… hmm.

“He wasn’t always a monster,” Iruka sniffles. “I… He was there, Kakashi.”

“I know, Love.”

“I never wanted this.”

“I know.”

“I thought… For so long, I thought we would be together forever. He was everything. And it was… it was okay. I didn’t know it could be any different.” Iruka looks up at him, tears stuck in his eyes. “He had it easy, didn’t he? I forgave everything he did to me.”

“But he took you for granted.”

“What he did was underestimate my protectiveness,” Iruka sighs. “Both times. It ended our relationship, and then it ended his life.”

They stay in the cemetery for a long time. Kakashi listens to Iruka tell him stories about Mizuki the boyfriend and tries to meld that with his own memories of Mizuki the abuser. When they leave, Iruka drops the chrysanthemum on top of the marker with a finality that screams where the rest of the cemetery is silent.

~

They go home later, and Iruka stops on the sidewalk looking at his house while Kakashi pushes the fence open and starts down the path to the front door. His black jacket is slung over his shoulder, and the sunset warms his skin and casts a reddish-orange glow onto his pale skin. He stops and turns, one foot propped on the second step up to the porch, and smiles back at Iruka.

That Iruka can tell he’s smiling with three-quarters of his face covered and three meters of space between them… Iruka realizes he’s so far gone on this man. He has been for months.

But Kakashi looks so perfect, waiting for him outside the house.

“Coming, Love?”

Iruka flushes, scratches at his scar, and walks up the path. When he’s close enough to Kakashi, he murmurs, “Hopefully later,” and passes on to the door to unlock it and release the wards. He leads the way inside and looks back over his shoulder to see Kakashi looking at his ass hungrily, still standing in the same spot and position he’d been when Iruka had passed him.

He grins. “Coming, Love?”

Kakashi looks up at him and whines, “Don’t tease.”

Iruka laughs. He turns and goes inside, leaving the door open for Kakashi to follow him. He tosses his keys onto the table in the genkan and begins toeing off his shoes.

Kakashi comes and stands behind him, putting his nose right in Iruka’s hair behind his ear. “Love you,” he mutters.

“Love you too,” Iruka responds. He twists and kisses Kakashi on the cheek, still masked.

“What do you want for dinner?”

“Not hungry,” Iruka says. He finishes getting his shoes off and steps out of the genkan. He holds out his hands for Kakashi to take, and grins when he has Kakashi close again, now in the living room. “Though, if you’re on the menu…”

Kakashi takes down his mask, groaning deep in his chest. “I thought you said no Icha Icha lines.” He slips his arms around Iruka’s neck while Iruka’s hands go to Kakashi’s hips.

Iruka leans in slowly. “Are you really complaining?”

“No. No, gods, no. Please kiss me.”

Iruka deliberately kisses Kakashi on the corner of his mouth. And when Kakashi tries to turn into the kiss, he trails kisses away from Kakashi’s lips, across his jaw and down his neck.

“Iruka—!” Kakashi whines.

He walks them back to the couch, licking at Kakashi’s neck the whole while. He sits down and Kakashi falls after him, straddling his lap and cupping his face.

“It’s okay? Can I—?”

“Kakashi, please keep kissing m—”

He does. He dives in and coaxes Iruka’s lips apart so their tongues can glide together. All the while his hips are slowly rocking against Iruka’s; he grabs Kakashi low on his hips and urges him to grind faster.

“You and your—oh, gods—fucking suit,” Kakashi pants into his mouth. “Gorgeous. Godsdamned gorgeous in this.”

Iruka tips his head back and lets Kakashi kiss and lick down his neck. Fingers grapple at his tie and collar, fumble with his shirt. Iruka’s own hands squeeze Kakashi’s ass, full and warm in his palms.

“Want you,” Kakashi murmurs against his throat. “Want. I want to see you come. Can I do that for you tonight? Please, please let me make you come.”

Iruka pushes Kakashi’s head up with two fingers under his chin and kisses him. Kakashi’s hands stop their pursuit of stripping him out of his shirt and instead cup Iruka’s face, still muttering please, please, please, all the while rocking and grinding in Iruka’s lap and—

And—

Oh, how’s he supposed to say no to that?

“Okay,” Iruka kisses him. “Um. Okay. Just. I don’t…”

And then Kakashi says, "I want you to fuck me."

And something in Iruka stops.

~

“Want to—hmm—feel you move in me,” Kakashi rambles. He continues unbuttoning Iruka’s shirt, exposing more and more bronze skin. Iruka's chest is broad and muscled and perfect, just like the rest of him, and Kakashi slips off of his lap to settle on his knees between Iruka’s thighs; he leans in and laps at Iruka’s clavicle, down his sternum, drifts aside to catch a nipple in his teeth. Iruka’s soft hum and fingers in his hair tell him he’s doing good so he flicks his tongue against the bud between his teeth. His own eye rolls back to hear Iruka’s cry of pleasure.

Down further, he keeps undoing buttons and parting fabric. He lays kisses all over Iruka’s belly, cups his erection through his pants, and glances up at Iruka before he goes for his belt and trousers.

“Please.”

“What—um—what are you…?” Iruka can’t seem to get the words out, but his chest is heaving with his breath and the flush on his cheeks is staining his flesh all the way down his neck. He’s-he’s beautiful.

“I. I really want to suck you off,” Kakashi says. “And then, if you’re up for round two, I want you inside me.”

Iruka takes his cheek in hand and smiles and says, “We can. We can definitely try that.”

“I love you.”

Iruka kisses him again, soft and sweet. “Love you too. But let’s go to bed, yeah?”

Kakashi can agree with that. He stands up and pulls Iruka along by the hands. He’s giddy and excited—almost as much as when Iruka lets him eat him out, but this excitement has the twinge of newness to it. He’s wanted to get Iruka’s cock in his mouth since the first time they had gone to bed together, and now, finally, he’s getting it.

He’s a bit lightheaded by the prospect, if he’s honest.

Once they’re in the bedroom, Iruka begins unbuttoning Kakashi’s shirt, while Kakashi plays with Iruka’s buckle. Iruka moves to the cuff buttons at each wrist, and then returns to Kakashi’s chest to part the fabric and slide his palms over his undershirt and up to his shoulders. He pushes the shirt off and pulls it down his arms, dragging his palms and fingertips along his pale skin and raised scars. The shirt is tossed and Iruka returns to the undershirt, lifting slowly from the bottom and smirking at how Kakashi’s abs jump at his touch.

The undershirt and mask join the shirt on the floor, and Iruka goes for Kakashi’s belt, but is halted by his own belt and trousers being undone. Kakashi let Iruka have his bit of fun; but he’s really got to get that cock in his mouth.

“I love you,” he murmurs again. He leans in and kisses Iruka’s cheek, down to his jaw and back to his lips; traces his ribs with his fingers and groans at the dips of muscle definition on his abdomen. “You’re perfect, and I love you.”

Iruka’s panting lightly, his eyes closed and his lips shiny with spit—his or Kakashi’s, who’s keeping track anymore? Kakashi swallows the whimpering moan he pulls from Iruka’s throat as he finishes stripping both of them, their clothing a pile of fabric on the floor.

He urges Iruka to lay down on the bed, takes hold of his underwear once he’s prone, and asks again, “Is this alright?”

Iruka’s response is to raise his hips and tip his head to the side. He has a wet, red mark on his neck that may bruise by morning if Kakashi’s not careful.

He slips the last bit of fabric off and throws it aside. Iruka’s cock, hard and reddened, bobs onto his belly and smears precome across his skin. He blushes furiously, and it’s perfect.

Kakashi crawls onto the bed, spreading Iruka’s legs and settling himself between thick muscular thighs. First he kisses the soft, darker skin of his inner thighs, then trails his nose up through the thatch of hair around the base of his cock. He darts out his tongue to taste and relishes the whimper he receives. One hand joins his mouth in worship, gently cradling the thick cock while his tongue licks all around the base.

“K’shi. Love.”

The most subtle of shifts has him positioned above the head of Iruka’s cock. He licks up a bead of precome at the tip, closing his eyes to savor it. Continuing to cradle this precious member in one hand, he begins to press open-mouth kisses all along the shaft. His thumb caresses the tip and spreads the precome that keeps leaking.

Then Kakashi licks a wide stripe up the underside, base to tip, and sucks the head into his mouth—

And Iruka sobs.

Kakashi lifts his head, letting Iruka slip from his mouth but still holding him in one hand, and checks in—”Iruka?”

“Don’t stop,” Iruka whimpers. “Please. Please don’t stop.”

Relieved, Kakashi kisses his navel, his hips; strokes his cock with a slow, steady palm; and only when he hears Iruka cry out again—

“Gods among us, Kakashi, please!”

—does he slip his lips back over his head and take Iruka as far into his mouth as he can. He’s not long, but he’s thick and Kakashi’s jaw aches to hold him on his tongue; a slow breath out has Kakashi sliding the very tip of Iruka’s cock down his throat and relishing the fresh, louder cry he receives for the motion. He can hold Iruka in his throat for twenty-four seconds before needing to pull back. He’s not like Iruka, with no gag reflex and a penchant for swallowing long cocks and holding them in his throat. He bobs his head, drooling over the thick shaft and moaning at the taste of more precome in the back of his mouth.

Kakashi had been braced on his elbow, holding Iruka’s hip with a careful grip. But now he shifts, settles his weight more on his knees, places his forearms on Iruka’s spread thighs. He continues holding Iruka’s cock with one hand, stroking where his mouth can’t reach and keeping him from jerking up into Kakashi’s throat. With his newly freed hand, though, he cups Iruka’s balls and presses his thumb just barely against Iruka’s hole.

“Love you, love you, oh-oh-ahh, so g-good, K’shi, fuck.”

That’s it. That’s it, Love.

He lets Iruka thrust into his mouth just the barest amount, knowing unfortunately that he’ll choke if he lets Iruka take what he wants but also. Also, gods, Iruka is panting and moaning and it’s driving Kakashi higher and higher.

“Want. Oh. Kakashi, Love, wanna come with you,” Iruka taps at his shoulder, “Please, please come up here and kiss me.”

He lets Iruka go, swallows the last bitter traces of precome on his tongue, and crawls up Iruka’s body. Iruka takes him by the face and pulls him the rest of the way to his mouth, kissing and nipping at his lips and groaning all the while.

“Why,” Iruka mutters into his mouth,”are you still wearing your underwear?”

“Good question.” Kakashi licks into his mouth and continues kissing him, fingers his nipples, rocks their hips together—

“Off. Get them off,” Iruka whines.

“But then I’d have to stop touching you.”

“You can take three seconds to strip.”

Kakashi sits back and shoves his underwear down his thighs. The cool air on his dick is a shock, but not as much as watching Iruka reach for his own cock and begin to touch himself.

Kakashi stops to watch.

His fingertips glide along the underside, up and down and up and—they stop and Iruka takes himself in a light grip, swirling his thumb against the tip while his other hand drifts to his chest to pinch and tweak at his own nipple.

Iruka licks his lips, moans brokenly, and says, “Are you going to make me do this myself, or are we doing this together?”

He fumbles the rest of the way out of his underwear, saying, “I. Well.” He settles back, kneeling between Iruka’s thighs and watching his hand move and his chest heave. “Gods, Iruka, I could come from this.”

“Watching me?”

“You have no idea. How godsdamn sexy you are right now.”

Iruka’s blush is sweet and gorgeous.

“Want us,” he pants. “Want you.”

Kakashi leans back down and kisses him, deep and lovingly, pressing their bodies together, hips to navel to chest. Iruka’s arms encircle his neck and keep him close, keep them kissing. He reaches between them for Iruka’s cock and takes him in hand again, pumping his hand carefully.

Iruka shakes his head. “Together, Kakashi, please.”

He shivers. “I won’t last,” he murmurs.

“Don’t care. Wanna feel you.”

So Kakashi leans up on his elbow, adjusts his hips and pushes his own cock alongside Iruka’s into the circle of his hand and they both sigh and moan and Iruka begs him to move—

“K’shi, please, please, I’m so close, just—little more, please!”

Kakashi ruts, smoothing precome along their cocks with his palm and easing the friction. Iruka’s leaking steadily but Kakashi’s pulsing, damp squirts from his tip with each thrust. His eyes are shut tight and his lips are parted and kiss-bruised.

“You. You’re so beautiful,” Kakashi whispers.

And Iruka comes. Splashes of come slip over his hand, pooling on his stomach and chest. Kakashi stills his hand to feel the pulse of Iruka’s cock against his own and it’s glorious. His jaw drops in an almost silent cry, interrupted only by soft Ah-ah-ahh as he pants. And when he starts to come down, Iruka moans and gasps, “So good K’shi,” and then.

And then he opens his eyes, just the barest amount, and says, “You too. Come for me, Love.”

Like he could resist. Kakashi’s hand doesn’t even move again, still gently holding them both; he comes on command, adding to the mess on Iruka’s belly as his hips rut against Iruka’s.

His mouth is dry and his throat aches when he comes back to himself. Iruka is holding him against his chest, the mess mostly wiped away by a corner of the blanket. Kakashi nuzzles into Iruka’s neck, breathes him in, and relishes the soft touches to his back and arms.

“Move in with me.”

Kakashi opens his eye and picks up his head. Iruka is staring at the ceiling, like he’s not sure how Kakashi's going to respond.

As if there’s any other response he could give.

“Alright.”

“I just thought, y’know, you’re here all the time anyway, and I miss you when—” Iruka looks down at Kakashi and furrows his brow, saying, “Wait. Alright?”

Kakashi smiles. “Alright.”

“You. You’ll live here. With me.”

“I would love to.”

Iruka frowns, turning his gaze away from him and instead to the wall. “I wasn’t prepared for this.”

“I’m realizing that,” Kakashi chuckles.

“I expected to have to convince you.”

“Convince me? To live with the love of my life? To live with the man who makes me bad omelettes but perfect pancakes? To live with you, who makes sure my weapons are sharp and designs seals and tags specifically for my use?”

“Kakashi…”

“I’d get to live with the same man who opened up his heart and his home to my sensei’s son, who the rest of the village had turned their back on, and showed him what love is with no desire for reciprocation or payment. You just. Did.”

“Gods, love, stop.”

Kakashi does. Because that word is important and he won’t tarnish it by disrespecting it. But he could go on. And on. And on.

But Iruka smiles and kisses him again and says, “Okay. We’ll get you moved in tomorrow?”

Because it’s getting late.

And he’s home.