#then monsters came and i had to change to fire dagger

[hyakunana]

Daily Hotel Krat: DIY weapons

[chaoticbardlady99]

I Wondered If I Could Come Home? (Astarion x F! pregnant reader) Part 4

Synopsis: The Hag learns not to underestimate an angry mother and Eowyn decides to make an early appearance.

CW: Mentions of gore, mentions of torture, labor, breast feeding

Author note: thank you for your patience! I’ve had a lot of big life changes lately and have been struggling with my mental health. I have a couple other fics I’m working on that I’m super excited about!

This will also have more parts in the future! I have lots more ideas!

Pic is mine!

You know you need to stay in bed, but you will be damned if you are going to let Astarion face that terrible Hag alone. You knew he’d never agree to let you go with him considering your current condition, but you had always fought side by side together and not being there to protect him feels wrong to you.

They have been gone far longer than they should have been and there is a sick pit in your gut that tells you something is wrong. You don’t know what, when, why, or how, but you have a feeling Astarion’s life is in danger.

Jaheira had caught you sneaking out right away and even though Shadowheart was skeptical about the safety of the situation, she also agreed that something felt off and that they probably should have been back a few hours ago.

So you squeezed yourself into something that you can move in- settling on an oversized Wizard’s robe you had accidentally bought right before you found out you were pregnant. It’s like the retailers knew before you did.

Shadowheart and Jaheira are right behind you as you follow Scratch to Astarion’s location. The hag must not be very social considering the trail has led to a remote part of the beach. You feel even more uneasy the further you go and then you hear it.

Minsc is screaming at someone to stop and then there is a scream of pain from Astarion. Your entire body feels on fire and your rage is bigger than your own body. You can feel Eowyn’s fury too- no one is allowed to hurt her dad.

You storm in and you blast an ice shard straight through Hag's chest and send her away from Astarion. Based on the cuts along his chest- she was slowly, painfully torturing him with some type of weapon. Minsc, Halsin, and Gale are in equally bad shape and are hanging up shackled to the wall.

Astarion is blinded by some kind of spell because when you race over to him- he flinches away from you. His skin is torn up in nonsensical designs and your chest hurts looking at him. Tears are pooling in your eyes, but you have to contain yourself- he needs you to be strong right now.

“It’s just me, Star,” you say softly, “I’m getting you out of here.”

The fear and horror in his eyes intensifies, “you need to leave now!”

“Oh I’m afraid that ship has sailed little spawn,” the Hag cackles, “I didn’t even have to do any of the work- you came straight to me!”

You put yourself between the Hag and Astarion. You stare daggers into the Hag and she looks taken aback. She was a fool to believe you are just a blubbering pregnant woman who enjoys an apple cupcake.

“The only thing I will be giving you is a very painful death,” you snarl.

Shadowheart and Jaheira attack her first and you silence the Hag- preventing her from using any spells. In between Shadowheart and Jaheira’s melee attacks, you throw cantrip and spell hand over hand at the monster.

When the Hag finally goes down, you feel absolutely victorious! You untie Astarion and Shadowheart casts restoration and healing before moving onto the others. Astarion immediately pulls you into him and places lots of kisses on your face while chastising you for taking such a massive risk, but you can also see the shining pride in his eyes.

Then your water decides to break.

“Oh are you fucking serious!?” You shout in alarm.

“What’s-“ Astarion looks at you in confusion and then stops when he sees the puddles on the ground.

“Shit!” Shadowheart is racing over to check on you and puts her hand on the lower part of your stomach, “she’s ready to come at any minute- we need to get you h-“

She doesn’t even finish her sentence before Astarion picks you up and begins rushing back to the house. Everyone is hot on your trail, but you are too afraid to even be worried about that right now.

“My love, it’s going to be okay,” Astarion whispers, “you’ll be okay. Eowyn will be okay.”

“But she’s early,” you sob, “and Isobel and Dame Aylin aren’t here and what if I di-“

“No- don’t even begin to think that,” Astarion scolds you, his pace picking up, “you are going to live through this and we are going to be a family. There is no other outcome.”

You don’t argue with him because you don’t want to scare him. You’ve read a lot about Dhampir babies and their birth. Your understanding is that it’s up to the child whether you live or not- they can either make the labor excruciatingly easy or they can claw their way out of you until you bleed out. You hope that Eowyn loves you and wants you in her life. You really don’t want to die.

Everything moves in slow motion as everyone frantically moves around you. Your contractions came on much faster than Shadowheart anticipated and thank the Gods that Halsin was there because he’s delivered several children before. He was equally as surprised- this is a process that could take hours, days even, but it’s been mere minutes. Astarion asks if that’s a good thing, but neither Halsin or Shadowheart know.

Jaheira and Shadowheart push your legs as you fight through the pain and push as hard as you can. The pain is searing, but you don’t feel like you are being ripped apart more than necessary so that’s a good thing.

“You’re doing such a good job, my Love,” Astarion whispers as he wipes the sweat from your forehead, “you are so so strong.”

Yes, you are. You just fought a hag and then immediately went into labor, but that doesn’t settle the fear in your heart when you are told to push again. The pain just continues to increase but nothing feels scary, if anything, the more the pain increases, the more relief you feel. Not your own, but Eowyn’s and for some reason, you feel like she’s excited to meet you.

So you push a few more times over the next two hours until a high pitched cry echoes through the room. Halsin asks Astarion if he wants to cut the cord and he agrees, but looks like he’s going to throw up the whole time. Halsin is laughing as he shows Astarion how to bathe Eowyn- your poor partner looks like he’s about to have a conniption.

“Congratulations,” Halsin says while handing Eowyn over to you, “you are the proud parents of a very healthy little girl.”

Eowyn stops crying the minute she’s in your arms and she opens her eyes- she has topaz, sun elf eyes with red flecks and you smile widely- she has your eye color!

“Well hello my sweet girl,” you coo, “thank you for not killing me.”

Eowyn is the most precious baby in the world as she squeals happily at you. You giggle and hold her tighter. Your heart feels so so full when you look at her. It was just the two of you for so long and you are so happy to be here to know her.

Wispy, blonde silver curls adorn her head and her ears are adorably pointed. Her skin is the same color as Astarion’s but with more life in her cheeks. Her lips are in a happy little pout and she is inquisitive while taking in your features. Oh and her rolls! She is a chunky little gal!

You understand now what all those parenting books were saying. You would destroy the world for Eowyn.

“And!” Shadowheart pops up from in between your legs, “you’re totally okay! Besides the expected, that is.”

A relieved laugh leaves your lips and Eowyn happily squeals again in unison. Eowyn’s eyes then seem to wander around the room, her head turning ever so slightly. You read that Dhampirs are stronger than normal infants, but you are still weary of her moving without your support.

She doesn’t stop looking around until she meets Astarion’s eyes. You follow her gaze and you smile softly at Astarion who looks so happy, scared, and relieved at the same time. Eowyn offers a chubby hand to him and you watch as Astarion walks towards both of you as if hypnotized. He hesitantly lets her take his finger and Eowyn smiles before closing her eyes and relaxing against you.

“She’s beautiful,” Astarion says in awe, “but she’s also too smart for her own good.”

“I told you so,” you say with a huff, “but noooo no one listens to mom.”

Astarion smiles brightly at you and kisses your chapped lips slowly and lovingly. He sits next to the two of you, his finger never leaving Eowyn’s hand.

****************************

The Hag had overtaken them. Astarion still isn’t quite sure how- he just remembers a big flash and something in the room taking him down to his knees. When he woke up being tortured- he felt as helpless and pathetic as he had under Cazador.

Astarion was certain he would die there or just be there for eternity. The hag blinded him and carved into his skin as much as she pleased.

Hearing your voice had felt like a balm for his shattered spirit, but that feeling was quickly overtaken with fear for you and Eowyn. You were not supposed to be here trying to protect him. He’s supposed to be protecting you.

Today was humbling. You killed the hag and saved him. You then proceeded to give birth not even three hours later and you still had asked him if it would be okay for you to take a nap.

In spite of today’s lack of success, Astarion can’t help but feel nothing but pride towards you as you snore softly next to him in the bed. Your arm is absentmindedly thrown over his torso and Eowyn is napping in his arms. You are truly a miracle walking and it’s in these moments that he still can’t believe you took him back. You’re incredible and you could easily have done this on your own.

Astarion is extremely nervous. He knows he has absolutely no paternal instinct, but he does know he loves Eowyn and you. At the end of the day that’s the important part, right? He can figure out the rest as he goes- he’s smart and quick enough on his feet.

Eowyn begins crying and suddenly that process of thought is completely gone. You stir and begin to sit up with a yawn.

“She’s-“ another yawn cuts you off, “probably hungry.”

Astarion passes Eowyn to you- once again feeling entirely unhelpful. Sure enough, she immediately begins to suckle and her crying ceases. You smile at her and then look to Astarion- your features quickly changing to a look of concern. You use your other hand to wipe his tears.

“Star, what’s wrong?”

He struggles to fight the lump in his throat and to stop the tears in his eyes. You continue to look at him lovingly, providing him with comfort and assurance. Astarion can tell you what he’s feeling- maybe you can even help him get a new perspective.

“I feel so useless and well, worthless,” he chokes out, “I didn’t kill the hag, I couldn’t do anything but watch you be in pain, and I can’t even feed Eowyn.”

Your hand pauses on his cheek for a second before you shake your head.

“Astarion, you saved me from that horrid creature earlier this morning. If you hadn’t been there, I would be chopped up somewhere and Eowyn would be turned into a hag,” you say tearfully, “and I could not have gone into labor without you here. That was one of my biggest fears before you arrived at my door- I just wanted you here with us.

“And you are certainly welcome to try and feed Eowyn,” you tease, “but last time I checked you aren’t producing milk and besides, it’s not your fault. She’s mere hours old and I haven’t even begun to try to fill up a bottle or two for you to use. Just please don't beat yourself up, my Star. You mean the whole world to me and I couldn’t have done any of this without you. Not to mention- Eowyn adores you so you have to stick around.”

Astarion’s heart glows and cracks at the same time. He would never leave you- he may raise Eowyn with questionable morals, but he has no intentions of not being a part of her life until both of you are long gone and his own time comes.

Everything else you said though? It did help to throw the worst of his negative feelings out.

“I never intended on leaving,” he says quickly, not thinking about how his feelings may have sounded, “but thank you, my Love. I needed to hear that.”

“Of course, anytime.”

The two of you talk and obsess over how adorable she is, what features she seems to have from who, etc. You eventually fall asleep leaning against Astarion while feeding Eowyn.

When she’s done, Astarion gently takes her from your arms and burps her like every parenting book says to do. It’s not a ridiculously hard process, but the spit up on his shirt is definitely not his favorite.

“Really? This is my nice shirt!” He whispers at Eowyn who just smiles at him, “okay fine, you can spit up on my shirts.”

Eowyn yawns and goes back to sleep- it takes everything in Astarion not to melt into a puddle. He didn’t think a yawn could be so adorable in his whole life.

You begin to snore softly again and Eowyn is right behind you. Astarion chuckles to himself and places a soft kiss on Eowyn’s forehead.

He’s excited to introduce her to everyone- Dal has been sending letters non-stop asking when she can visit. Astarion has been procrastinating because he knows she’ll bring Petras too and if you hadn’t made it… well it would not have been a happy union.

Dal is already referring to herself as Eowyn’s aunt which made Astarion slightly uncomfortable at first because he and his siblings had never truly been close, but then she visited with Petras, Aurelia, and even Violet during your 7th month of pregnancy and you all had hit it off very well and, without Cazador, Astarion found he actually enjoys his siblings’ company. They are actually decent people now that they aren’t all being horribly abused. Well, Violet may be the exception, she’s still a shit who loves to play pranks, but at least they aren’t painful or out of vengeance.

Then there are his traveling companions- his chosen family as you refer to them as. Every single one of them is going to want to meet Eowyn and smother her in love. He’s most excited to see Lae’zel’s reaction- she’s going to be horrified by how squishy human children are, but Eowyn will win her over.

Astarion decides to talk to you about having them visit once you are awake and if you seem to be feeling much stronger. He knows one thing for sure though- Eowyn is going to have the biggest and most loving family anyone could ever have.

[tswaney17]

Who's Afraid of Little Old Me?

@elriel-month | Once Upon a Dream

I'm so excited to share this Tangled retelling fic. It came to me last minute and I'm still in shock I managed to bust this one out. 😅 This story is heavily inspired by two songs, "Who's Afraid of Little Old Me?" and "Cassandra" both by Taylor Swift. I recommend listening to them to get the full experience of this fic. 💗

My fanfic account: @tswaney17fics​​​

My ao3 account: tswaney17

Please let me know what you think about this update. I love getting your feedback. Constructive criticism is always welcome. 💕

Trigger warnings: Some minor descriptions of violence

Word Count: 7,053

This fic will be posted on AO3 only. Read the beginning below or click here to head to AO3.

Azriel buckled his weapons belt over his hips, tightening the straps around his thick thigh that contained the legendary dagger at his side. It was his preferred method to kill the monsters he was paid to end. Though he carried a few other daggers and a long sword strapped down the center of his spine, they weren’t Truthteller.

They weren’t the dagger that stories were told about around village fires.

They weren’t the dagger children pretended to wield when they played knights and dragons and thieves.

His lips curled up at the thought of them using wooden swords and declaring themselves knights of the kingdom. Slashing the toy as if they held his blade in their small hands. The idea was completely absurd.

Because Azriel was no knight.

He traveled from village to village, kingdom to kingdom, taking coins from the townsfolks or the royals themselves to slay whatever beast was terrorizing them. Using the knife believed to have magic embedded within the very blade to always strike true. The only magical thing people dared to accept in this world.

The stories he could tell would cower most people, but not a single monster had ever given him pause.

Until today.

Until he was called upon to slay the sorceress who retired to a tall tower in the woods. Azriel wasn’t too familiar with sorceresses or the power they possessed. But the coin offered by the town was too good to pass up.

Read More

~~~~~

Remember, sharing is caring! Please reblog if you liked the fic. It helps spread my work and I truly appreciate it. 💕

While I have moved most of my fics to AO3 only, I am still going to utilize a tag list here on Tumblr. This as a permanent solution and may change in the future. For notifications, you can follow and subscribe to my fanfic account where I will be reblogging updates and snippets only. You can also find me on ao3. If you would like to be added to my tag list, please leave a comment on this post.

My fanfic account: @tswaney17fics​

My ao3 account: tswaney17

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Some tags seem to not want to link, which could be related to your visibility settings. Sorry about that!

[lunarmoonanons]

Would you do a Aegon I x Stark!reader?

You didn't specify if you wanted this to be yandere, so it's just a regular oneshot.

🌕 🌖 🌗 🌘 🌑 🌒 🌓 🌔 🌕  

Fire in the North

🌕 🌖 🌗 🌘 🌑 🌒 🌓 🌔 🌕  

Masterlist

When the news of her brother’s submission to the dragon king reached YN, she portrayed no obvious emotion. But inside there was rage and hate. She hated the Targaryen lord who came to her kingdom, winning it not by any true action of strength but by his showing off of his beast. Deeper than her rage though, she had understanding. 

Her brother had to bend the knee for their people, that would make him seem weak but he only ever cared for his people. And she couldn’t truly despise the Targaryen for using his dragon as a means of intimidation, not when she had a large direwolf by her side doing the same. But her frustration snapped when she heard the man would come to her home in Winterfell to determine their terms of fealty. Not wanting some foreign man on a large beast to step on the land of her father. For the sake of her people she would swallow her anger. Many a man whispered that her brother should’ve fought, that he disgraced his name by kneeling, that even his sister would have rather died by the sword. YN knew that truly this was wounded pride and anger that some non first men descendant would rule over them. 

When Torrhen returned from the riverlands, head high, YN was waiting for him in the courtyard. YN’s wolf walking forth to bump her nose against Torrhen’s wolf. As he got off his horse and stood before his sister YN felt tears prickle in her eyes. Relief that her brother was alive, grief that her world was to change, and pity for the impossible situation her brother was placed in. The two hugged tightly, Torrhen let out a few tears into her shoulder as he whispered that he just wanted to keep everyone safe, YN rubbed his back to comfort him. Their reunion was cut short by the sound of a dragon roaring, the monster flew through the air and landed within meters of the castle. Torrhen pulled away to compose himself and YN hardened her expression. 

“Calm yourself YN” He whispered. 

“I will bite my tongue, for if I don’t I will most likely destroy what peace you gained.” YN said with a short temper. Icy tone biting the air. Snowstorm, her wolf, circled back to the woman. “Remain close to me Snowstorm, I’d rather not have a foreign king snatching you like he snatched this land.”

Torrhen sighed, and squeezed her hand for support. The foreign king finally made his way to the pair. He looked just as YN thought he would. Strange. His strange white hair, tall stature, and unnerving violet eyes. He reminded her of the stories of whites her nan would tell her. 

Aegon knew the north would be stubborn against his rule over them, his show of strength needed to be backed up by his terms for the north. He needed the north to know they had knelt. He thought that Visenya would like it here, if she’d visit. The land was fierce like her. When he approached the northern king, his focus shifted to the woman next to him. Her gray eyes, cold looking skin, and black hair was a type of beauty he was unfamiliar with. She was beautiful like the cold spring that shined over snow. But she gave him no kind look, her eyes glared at him, piercing his flesh like daggers. Next to her was a large wolf, almost the size of a horse. 

“Welcome to Winterfell, my… king.” Torrhen said. YN nodded to the new king, but said nothing. Praying to the old gods that she may be graced with patience.

“Thank you, Lord Torrhen. Let us go inside and discuss the terms of your wardenship over the north.” Aegon sounded very kingly, YN would admit that but she’d refuse to sit near him. 

“Of course. YN will you join us?”

“No. I have better things to do.” The woman snapped. 

“Such as, sister?”

“Such as none of your affairs.” With that she stomped away, Aegon watched the back of her hair swish around. 

“Your sister reflects northern ferocity quite well.” 

Torrhen apologetically nodded to the man. As they discussed his wardenship of the north, Torrhen remained as stubborn as he could. He would kneel for the north, but refuse to submit it to the same treatment as the south. Aegon was gracious and strong. Agreeing that the north would not submit to the faith of the seven, their gods were old and sacred. They were not of andal blood and their connection to the land was more important. Torrhen was adamant about the importance of the wall and their truth about winter. The people of the north would have more freedoms than some of the lands but their fealty to the Targaryen king must be absolute. That was what he wanted. Well that and one other thing. 

“Your sister is without a husband?” Aegon asked. “To solidify our agreement, perhaps I could take her as a wife. She would be queen alongside my sisters, and would want for nothing.” 

“I couldn't do that to my sister. I won’t force her into a marriage. She’d hate me, and would despise you.” Torrhen denied. 

“You are her lord, she would do as you say.” 

“The fuck I would.” Both men turned to see a fuming woman. She had only caught the last of their conversation. “You would try to have me as another bride for your inflated ego? Do you not have enough under your thumb?” 

Aegon stood and turned to the girl. “YN.. my lady let me explain.”

“No, you listen to me. You can come to my home, and command us with your massive beast, you can control lands with your fire, but I am of the first men. I worship the old gods and I would never want you. The only feasible way you could have me is kicking and screaming.” YN turned to Torrhen. “So command me then brother. Betray me like you betrayed our kingdom.”

“YN, I would never do that to you.” Torrhen tried to calm her. “But please, calm yourself. He is our lord now and we must-”

“I would not have you if you are unwilling, my lady.” Aegon stated. “I will not force you to wed me, but I wish for our peoples to have a bridge.” 

“I am not an object for you to build anything off of.” YN snapped, her wolf growled behind her. Aegon put his hands up in a sign of good faith. 

“My apologies, my lady.” He bowed his head slightly. “I would respect your wish. But allow me to preach my position to you.”

“Do as you wish, MY KING. I have no authority over you.” YN turned to leave. 

Afterward, Aegon and Torrhen made well in favor. Aegon resolved with Torrhen to write to his sister. At least he would have an honest chance to court her then. Truly he just wanted to apologize for the circumstances for how they met. 

The first couple of letters he had sent were not responded to. He was certain she was burning them. His revsolve almost waned, until one night when a raven was sent, the crest of the starks sealed over it. It was a small thing, no bigger than his finger. But the message sent gave him some joy. His sister, Rhaenys, shared his joy as she was also interested in his story of the cold beauty from the north. Visenya just wanted to meet the woman who stood to a king and told him to piss off. 

The message she had sent was simple and short. 

“I forgive you.”

[blueinsomnia]

Fic Writer: Five Favorite Fics

Thanks for the tag @typewriteringalaxy.  It’s been a while since we’ve chatted and I hope you’re doing well these days.  Reading everyone’s lists has been interesting.  I didn’t know you wrote a Cloak & Dagger story, so I’ll have to check that one out.

Anyway, choosing five of my favorite fics in the Firelight Stories series was hard.  It was like trying to choose a favorite among my children.  They’re all my favorite in one way or another, but in order to not cop out, I’m gonna narrow it down to five anyway.

Also, before I continue, I wanted to say that I really enjoyed @letters-to-rosie‘s “The Fire Next Time”.  Really well done and worth a read.

Ahem, on to the main event.  My top five (in no particular order).

Joint Megalomania (Ekko/Jinx, M, 26/26),  - This was the first fic I had ever written and before I started, my wife told me to avoid writing it if I couldn’t finish.  I promised myself that I would make it to the finish line...AND I DID!  Shocked the hell outta me, but it’s a story I’m most proud of.  A good bit of mystery/suspense with some cool interactions between Ekko and Jinx.  A bit of angst in there, but that’s kinda par for the course for Ekko/Jinx stories, to be honest.  I had no idea what the hell I was doing, but I think it turned out well in the end.

Love & Food (Ekko/Jinx, T, 9/9) - This started off as a joke about Ekko and Jinx eating pancakes. However, I suck so hard at writing comedy it didn’t turn out the way I wanted.  I did enjoy the premise and thus decided to change it from a one-shot to a full-blown story.  The final product is something I’m happy with and I feel like it ends on a good note.  Coming up with the “dish of the week” was fun.  Chef Ekko will always be cool as shit to me.  The crazy thing is that this turned out to be the first long story I ever finished of ALL of my works.

An Outlaw’s Tale (Ekko/Jinx, M, one-shot) - I wanted to write a period piece with Ekko and Jinx and was stuck on what to write when my wife suggested I write a western.  I had never written a western before, so I did a ton of research about the 1800s and went from there.  Imagining Jinx as some badass outlaw was fun.  It’s one of the few Ekko/Jinx stories I’ve written where I keep the same origin story beats from Arcane.  I tried to tone down the racial issues, but it was still hard to ignore if I wanted to stay true to the time period.  Not sure if that’s for everyone, but I think I handled it with a bit of tact.

The Madness of the Feeling (Ekko/Jinx, T, 3/3) - My more radical stories tend to involve Jinx for some reason and that led me to writing this one which focuses on Ekko.  This story hits me the hardest, if I’m being honest with myself.  I dove deep into my early relationships to craft this one and there’s something raw about it that leads to a bit of introspection.  I actually crunched on this one trying to release it on Christmas Day, only to fail, because I didn’t take into account server locations.  Oh well, it was fun to write and while the subject matter was a bit depressing, I love how it came together.

The Celestial in the Moonlight (Ekko/Jinx, M, 7/7) - What started off as a monster horror story that was planned for Halloween, turned into a heartfelt journey of a monster falling in love and finding her place in the world.  I originally lamented the fact that I had abandoned the horror story, but as I went on, I found the new direction to be a better story.  It’s also the first story I have two characters actually get married AND have the ceremony.  Writing the dialogue for that was challenging.  Still, kitty monster Jinx turned out to be one of my favorite depictions of her as a character.  Glad I changed my mind on that one.

Honorable Mentions:

Guardians in Twilight (Ekko/Jinx, T, 6/6)  - Tackling the mess that is the Star Guardian universe was challenging.  I spent WAY too much time trying to connect the dots and to stay lore compliant.  Not sure if I’ll do that again, even if the final product is something I’m proud of.  I actually played League to research this one and I definitely won’t do that again.  Gotta admit, I love the interactions between Ekko and Jinx in this one.  Writing an “anime date” was definitely new for me.

Goodbye and Hello, My Friend (Ekko/Cait, M, one-shot) - I won’t say much about this one, other than it was a period piece set after World War 2 that I wrote because someone dared me to.  Should I have done it?  No idea, but what’s done is done and the final story turned out to be a nice commentary on soldiers putting themselves back together after the war, especially black soldiers.

-----

I don’t know many people here, but here are a couple:

@vanilla107 (I know we’ve never met or even chatted before, but I loved your Ekko/Jinx stuff and I’m curious which ones you liked.)

@jm-chrome (What are your favorite art pieces?)

[flydotnet]

Bad Things Happen Bingo! The event where you send me requests according to this marvelous card! (Red cross is the completed prompt, character headshots are prompts I’ve already filled).

Stairs, a taser, Yuto's fist, and more stairs. What do they all have in common?

Oh look, this is my yearly Arc-V fanfic where I'm ignoring most of canon because who gives a fuck about the Arc-V canon past, like, the Synchro arc (YMMV) lol. Anyway, this is a catharsis fic where I combine all of my other vague changes to the canon so that stupid ship only me still cares about in 2023 A.D. and also where the stupid parasites are easily removable by a good dash of Raidraptor magic. This fic can also be called "the floor is actually writing the Duel" because I didn't want to burden myself with how godawful the Parasite archetype is, especially since I can't just copy-paste a Duel from canon. The one I'd have to plagiarize really... isn't that good too, we're just all biased because Yuto is badass.

The title is a bilingual pun between the English "volatine", which is a synonym of "explosive" or "unstable", and the French "volatile", which is a term used for birds. Y'know, like Shun. He's the two meanings of the word "volatile". The word was, in fact, invented to trip my foot over during translation classes and also for Shun Kurosaki from hit "lowest ratings on Nico Nico Douga" anime Yu-Gi-Oh Arc-V.

Speaking of my favourite bird-wielding edgelord, post-Xyz Shun is always kind of weird to write too. He's not the same abrasive bastard I keep remembering as, but then I'm afraid I'm writing him too soft. I kind of tend to forget he's that angry, that destructive in huge part because of his bonds to other people. I don't want a Draco in Leather Pants situation, God knows I've bitched about when it was happening with Revolver VRAINS. Just... think that in this timeline I'm never describing Serena and he stuck around for much longer, like at least through Synchro, character dev' happened, or something, idk

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Volatile

Summary: Serena snaps back to reality in the middle of a Duel, only to quickly realize her spirit is fighting herself(?) and her body is fighting a rib-clutching Kurosaki. Nothing about this adds up, yet there she is, not even in control of her own body anymore.

Or: Shun came across a possessed Serena before his sister after losing her track back in the Xyz Dimension, this is the consequences of that forced encounter.

Fandom: Yu-Gi-Oh Arc-V Characters: Serena, Shun Ship: Peregrineshipping (pre-rel)

Wordcount: 3K words

Event hosted by @badthingshappenbingo​

AO3 version.

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Serena wakes up on both her feet to the smell of gunpowder and the heat of a reactor.

 Recent wartime experiences as a well-groomed doll turned soldier turned renegade have shaped her in a way that she doesn’t question how she got there, let alone why, and only on what’s in front of her.

She’s in harm’s way, so she sidesteps to avoid a chunk of shrapnel.

She’s near fire, so she steps backwards to avoid getting burned, or worse, outright set ablaze.

She’s in the middle of a Duel, which means she’s in the middle of battle, and needs to focus. Alas, no experience has prepared her for what she sees on the blade of her trusty Disk – and decidedly feels like a stranger to her own deck.

 She doesn’t recognize most of the cards she’s playing. Most of them are bearing garish bugs clad in colours that only push her eyes far away, which she don’t quite pay a mind to. They’re mostly Monster cards, with the exception of a set Trap card and a Spell one that’s still active. It seems to affect an archetype known as “Parasite”, which she’s never played nor even heard of. Why the hell did she play that, before seemingly going to sleep? How did this even happen to begin with?

It only dawns on her then to look up, only to see a semi-familiar face that, if it had organic eyes, would have absolutely been staring daggers right into hers. Mechanic wings, reactors, the smell of ruin and gunpowder. No, there’s no mistaking it, she’s watched it ravage through opposite fields before, in person, on a screen… No doubt about it, it’s –

 “Rise Falcon,” an even more familiar voice tells in a hoarse but firm tone, “reduce those bugs to—”

“Wait!”

Arm already risen in front of him, the individual on the other side of the field stops with a frustrated frown.

“What is it? Afraid of defeat?”

Her head hurts.

“What’re you doing, Kurosaki?! We’re on the same side!”

He tilts his head backwards just a little, one of his eyes twitches. He’s almost showing teeth now.

“I asked you that before you forced my hand into this bullshit.” He sounds so hurt, in a way that she hasn’t heard in so long, and her chest starts choking her too. “Don’t take me for stupid, asshole.”

It’s a downright migraine that she’s now stuck trying to shove back.

“What do you mean? I just… Why would I do that?”

His expression immediately softens.

“You were under the control of that… thing,” he points to the Parasite Queen in front of her, “and almost pushed me off that tower. Then you challenged me to a Duel.”

This sounds like an utter fantasy; but if there’s one thing Kurosaki doesn’t do, it’s lying, even to those he doesn’t trust, so there must be a rational explanation for this.

“What para—”

Don’t resist, Serena. Be a good girl.

She clutches her head now. What’s this voice? How did they get inside her head?!

“Serena?”

You’re my slave, now. Be a good girl and fight the Xyz remnant in front of you.

“Shit, Serena, snap out of it!”

And just like this, she loses contact with her own body.

 It’s an awful feeling of dissociation, drowsiness and loss of control. Her foot don’t touch the ground anymore, leaving her floating inside her own consciousness. Her eyes don’t look where she wants them to go, more fixated on the cards than on the guy in front of her, for worse and no shade of better – because even through the haze of her controlled mind, Serena hears it, the wheeze and the rasp of his voice.

 “You little pest,” her voice groans once even her cords have given back into the parasite’s clutches. “Back to you it is, bird boy.”

Kurosaki remains silent, the deep-set frown on his face enough to speak for him. Only now does she see, through the haze of glazed eyes, how battered he truly is, an arm wrapped around his chest and a trinkle of blood going down his cheek.

“I’m not leaving you in this state, not again, so don’t go thinking you’re out of the woods.” He clenches his teeth, spits back venom, “I’m not letting any of this fly by.”

He makes it sound like he’s here to save her – which doesn’t make sense. Kurosaki wanted to save Ruri, his other friend and his homeland. She wasn’t on the list. (Although Serena would’ve given her all to save him would have their places been the opposite, because she seeks redemption, because she wants to be a heroine, because she cares for Kurosaki less like a brother and more like a—)

“Oh, charming knight in armour, here to save the damsel in distress!” It chuckles. “You sound so full of yourself, for a miserable bug! You’re not the big bird of prey you think you are! Or did you abandon me back there? Didn’t just you faint from some small debris?”

“Tch.” He settles back into a deadpan. “I detach one Overlay Unit from Rise Falcon…”

 It wasn’t small debris – it was a lot more than that. She watched him run to save a girl he knew from her trauma and whatever her own homeland was trying to pull off in the middle of a Tag Duel, and only thanks to Kaito’s help was she able to finish them off before it was too late. She was scared beyond her mind’s comprehension, back there, but unable to realize until much late how much that had been; because there was no time.

No wonder why Kurosaki was so volatile. He hadn’t processed much of anything. Even now, she doubts he has.

What’s also no wonder to her is why she got so scared back then and a part of what’s grounding her to her body despite the phantom pain. She wants to do the right thing and stop this Duel from continuing any further. She doesn’t want to continue being a puppet for whomever infected her in Academia, her first and alleged only home for so long. She can’t hurt Kurosaki. She’s supposed to reunite with him and help him.

 And yet the Duel continues on without her, card after card sent to the Graveyard, Life Point after Life Point lost. Her “other self” has resorted to continuously bringing Monsters back from the dead to slap parasites on them, despite being unable to actually get a let up on Kurosaki despite having the upper hand in terms of cards on the field. He’s using all of his tools, constantly switching gears.

“You cheat,” that voice says. “You can’t beat me all on your own, can you!”

Kurosaki doesn’t reply, doesn’t even look like he’s hearing her.

“Action Magic: Miracle.” He smirks. “You could use them too, if you weren’t a coward.”

“You’re the coward, using you Lancers’ precious cards. You’re only delaying your oh so pathetic demise, Xyz remnant.”

To her surprise, even if it feels like it shouldn’t be anymore, Kurosaki chuckles at that.

“Oh, yeah, you’re definitely not there. The Serena I know wouldn’t say crap like this.”

“You don’t know me.”

“Obviously.”

 The other her destroys Kurosaki’s field with Magic, builds its side with more parasites, all summoned in various ways her dizzied mind can’t keep up with. The Queen squirms, ever so content with the suffering on the field, and she has to watch the one person she’s gotten attached to pay the price for what’s absolutely, by now and without question, her own rash decision making. She was made prisoner and now tortures other people.

She wouldn’t have wanted to put anyone through this to begin with, let alone him. No, of course Kurosaki isn’t the only friend she’s made along the way (that’d erase Yuzu, and Tsukikage, and Yugo…), but she’d lie if she said they hadn’t gotten strangely close to each other, the Xyz renegade and the former golden child of Academia turned against them. The groomed soldier and the one who had to become one to survive. It’s awful, it makes all too much sense.

 Another turn ended and he’s back to kneeling on the ground, hanging on by a thin thread of 200 LP.

“Oh-oh, having trouble standing up now, are we?”

“Shut it.”

“Hmph, I see you’re as unpleasant to talk to as always. You build yourself up so much yet struggle to do anything of substance once confronted. How does it feel, to be so useless, in the end? To be so powerless in the face of adversity?”

Kurosaki doesn’t respond, once more, only getting back to his feet.

“Tch. I set one face-down card and end my turn.”

 Serena’s heart skips a beat when she sees what card it is, as brief as it is. The name is blurry, so is the picture, but the chuckle of self-satisfaction that escapes her is enough to be weary of what’s about to happen; and if that wasn’t enough, then knowing it’ll absolutely decimate both of their fields but at the cost of his LP first would do more than the job.

She has one turn to get control of her body back, if not less. It’s a Magic card, so it has less chance to be activated on Kurosaki’s turn, but it’s not enough reassurance in this game of minds and prediction. If she doesn’t do something before it’s too late, he’ll suffer the consequences; and that she simply cannot let happen. He’s already struggling to breathe as is.

 “I activate from my hand Rank-Up Magic, Absorbing Soul Force. I pay half my Life Points to Special Summon Rise Falcon back to my field.”

“Then I’ll just destroy it again! You can’t win!”

“Shut up, I’m not finished. I Overlay Rise Raptor as Xyz material to summon two Ranks above its four.”

“Oh, of course, you Xyz users can’t get enough of your stupid Ranks. Come at me, I’ll just bury it six feet underground if need be!”

“Prideful falcon, spread your wings dyed in the blood of heroes, advance through the path of revolution! Xyz Summon, come forth! Rank Six, Raidraptor Revolution Falcon!”

“What’s the difference between that and the previous one? None, they’re all scum! Low filth of the Earth!”

Oh, a lot, but she’d rather let Kurosaki explain – who remains unfazed, if silently furious.

“I activate Revolution Falcon’s effect. By using one Overlay Unit, it can attack all of my opponents’ Monsters, once each.”

“Its Attack is inferior to Parasite Queen’s! Are you birdbrained?!”

Is he going to pull off the same thing he did back then?

“When this monster battles one that was Specially Summoned, that monster’s Attack and Defence become zero!”

But it scoffs and laughs, oh so amused by what’s in front of it, and she won’t have it let have its way. She’s putting an end to this battle that wasn’t meant to be now, no matter what. She’ll get back in control, at long last.

“Too bad for you, I’m ready! I activate—”

If she doesn’t do anything, this is going to be the bitter end—

No, I won’t let you!

“It’s over!” Serena screams with her own voice, finally, back in her body. All she has to do now is to…

Give it back to me!!

The pain is searing and it’s hard to think clearly, but one though is strong enough to pierce through it all.

“I’m not going to let you take over!”

“Serena?!”

She rises her hear to see an obviously concerned Kurosaki.

“Do it!” She yells at him, about to throw her own cards to the ground. “Finish this off!”

The voice screeches and burns inside his mind, claws its way out of a bottomless pit, everything burns burns burns.

He nods, takes a breath, and screams, “Revolution Air Raid!”

 And like it did the first time they saw each other, exchanged what could barely qualify as words, bombs explode to destroy their common enemy. Every single parasite on her field disappears in a blaze, the sky turns white. She almost loses consciousness, doesn’t withstand the knockback of the wind; but gets up soon enough, ignoring tremors in her legs, to at least realize something has moved inside her head.

She can’t quite worry over that yet however, because as soon as Cross-Over disappears, he falls to his knees.

 As if she hadn’t spent so long in her own pain, she rushes to his side, legs lighter than a feather. She doesn’t catch him per say, but decides to support him, concern tainting her every thought. From up close and through her own eyes, it’s evident that he’s taken quite the beating, a bruise already blossoming on the side of his neck and leftover hints of half-healed injuries speckle the few parts of his skin he leaves visible.

“Are you okay?” She asks, frantic, afraid she’ll lose him again.

Kurosaki doesn’t reply, exacerbating her pulse, but she soon feels something getting pulled from her ear. To her shock and disgust alike, through another dizzy spell, she watches him splatter an enormous bug under the sole of his shoe.

“You’re back, Serena?” He asks, his voice even raspier than it was before.

“Y-yeah. I was… controlled by that thing, wasn’t I…?”

“I think so, yeah. Scared the shit outta me.”

 She too has trouble getting her breath back, but before she loses all strength, she drags the both of them to lean against the nearby wall. Exhaustion is sitting heavy on her limbs, despite an urge to keep on – and she can only guess Kurosaki, because he’s struggling to get up yet trying so hard to, is feeling the same.

It’s always been difficult to know what he thinks, because he’s so quiet, so closed-off and so off-limits to everyone but two people he hasn’t found again yet. What is even going through his mind, right now?

Wait, did he just say he was scared?

 “You didn’t seem like it, though… Scared, I mean.”

“Only when you pushed me off the edge. After that, I was just focused on getting you back.”

His voice is gravely, his head is lulling on his shoulder, and it’s all too close to her, too warm, too welcoming. They’re soldiers in the jaw of the enemy, goddammit, is she this tired—

“Why didn’t you give up on me? I almost killed you, Kurosaki.”

He gives her one long, tired stare.

“You weren’t yourself.” He looks to the side next. “I wasn’t going to lose someone else again.”

“Am I really this important to you…?”

“What do you think the answer to that is?”

Dumb question… but it’s such a hard thing to believe. God, he surely sees her as his sister, or as a placeholder for her until Ruri is safe and sound again, that’s got to be it. She isn’t naïve enough not to know that now, that the world has never revolved around her and especially not his. (If only it didn’t hurt to think about).

“It’s hard to know, with you. I was your enemy at some point. You hate Fusion.”

“You’re not responsible for my homeland’s destruction, nor for Ruri’s disappearance. That doesn’t matter anymore.” He smiles a little, sends her back to flutter. “Plus, you did save me before. I was only paying you back so I don’t owe a debt.”

“We’ve talked about that, didn’t we? I was only seeking you for my own selfish gain. I said awful things to you, parading them as truth. I wasn’t exactly doing you a favour.”

He frows so, so deeply.

“Can’t you accept that I give a shit about you, or do I need to break a rib again?”

 Her blood immediately ices over, adrenaline replacing it shortly thereafter.

“Did I break something?!”

“I don’t know,” he says with an undignified uncertainty that doesn’t sound like him and stabs her as a result. “It’s not like I was in that good of a shape before coming here.”

Right, the debris, the rushed recovery process, the turmoil of questions never answered… No rest, all stress. It’s taken its toll on all of them.

“I’m sorry. It’s my fault if you’re in that state.”

“Skip the apology. I don’t want to hear it.”

“If I had been stronger, I wouldn’t have been infected by that… parasite.”

Vague memories she wants to ignore of a crazed man inserting something inside her mind, shivers that follow. It only ends when she feels pulled to him.

“I’m just glad you’re not gone.”

She nuzzles closer, for a moment uncaring of the dimensions, the Professor, the Lancers – all that matters is that they now breath together, that she doesn’t hurt him anymore, that they’re companions once more. It’s selfish. It’s insane. It’s easy.

“I’m relieved to see you again,” is all she replies. “We should… get going, though, shouldn’t we?”

“We should, yeah.”

She gets up, still dizzy and dazed, but nonetheless stable enough to give him her hand with a smile of her own. To her relief and joy alike, he gives it back to her as he takes it, gets to his own feet… and tilts forward just enough for her to catch him in her arms. If their worlds weren’t at stake, at the moment, she’d have relished in it, or let herself get overwhelmed by so much touch, so much closeness.

“I’ll support you,” she says, unsure of the extent to which she means it.

“I guess it’s fine, if it’s you.”

 She doesn’t comment on it, yet in silence can barely contain all of the thoughts that dance through her mind. Instead, like the level-headed companion she wants to be, she pushes that aside and focuses on the way his arm sits on her shoulder, of the one she has wrapped around his wrist, and not to aggravate his breathing. She can decide what to do with her feelings once everyone is safe and back home, when she won’t have to feel bad after a moment of reprieve. For now, they have a world to save.

And there’s nobody she wants to do it with more than the guy who’s just saved her.

[mythicamagic]

Fangs of Silver: Sesskag oneshot

Summary: Kagome Higurashi has her work cut out for her, hunting one of the most elusive and powerful werewolves known to man: the Killing Perfection. Sesskag smut oneshot. Werewolf Sesshoumaru/monster hunter Kagome. 

Rated M

Words: 4,700

Read on Ao3 and Dokuga

AN: for @cookieasylum​ for an art trade. Thanks bud! Hope you like it

Fangs of Silver

Warning: werewolf x human smut, knotting, menstrual sex

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Two fingers unfurled to touch the moonlit forest floor, tracing the outline of a large paw-print stamped into dirt. Even splaying her palm wide with four fingers and thumb outstretched, Kagome couldn't hope to meet its size, dwarfed in comparison.

"Looks like I've found you again," she muttered, straightening from her crouch. Walking onwards and listening out for any hint of movement within the imposing woods- tall anorexic trees completely still with sharp looking branches- blue eyes remained alert, watchful.

She'd been tracking this one for God knew how long now. Months. Had it been a year yet? Though even the smallest victory of finding his tracks left no time for celebration.

Kagome frowned to herself. This particular beast wasn't usually so careless. He evaded her during daylight hours by wading through streams or keeping to rocky terrain, never giving the same name when mingling with villagers. Even when the Full Moon hit- he managed to be elusive and surprisingly clever. The smartest one she'd been sent to hunt. This time he'd either been sloppy or…

Kagome glimpsed something through a gap in the lower trees, located further down the hill. Smoke?

Surely he wasn't trying to trap her with something so obvious.

Frowning, Kagome set down her weapon and snuffed out the flames of her torch, checking her supplies. Enough silver bullets. Enough jewel shards. Her guns were in good shape, but she was out of herbal supplements to repress a certain annoyance that also occurred every month. Wincing, she put a hand to her lower abdomen, feeling it cramp.

Crap, not now.

She'd have to ignore it. She couldn't afford to lose this guy due to Mother Nature kicking her continually in the gut.

This beast had committed countless acts of violence- leaving behind a trail of bodies in their respective towns and villages. Unlike usual werewolves who sloppily left bitten survivors to run amok, this beast made no mistakes. He seemed to kill specific people and left them firmly for dead. He never inflicted the curse upon anyone. Surprisingly his victims were usually reported to be less than innocent citizens.

Due to the killings- a bounty had been placed on what the authorities referred to as 'the Killing Perfection.'

Creeping down a steep incline, Kagome stepped as lightly as possible within the relative darkness of the trees -autumn leaves crunching beneath her boots.

A lonesome house in the woods stood like a mourner in a graveyard under the light of the Full Moon, dark wood faintly eroded by time. Vines held the chimney in a stranglehold, but smoke puffing out of the top revealed it to be in working order despite the dilapidated state of the house.

Slipping around the side of the building and ducking out of sight from any windows, Kagome stopped with her back to the wall, loading her rifle while stooped into a crouch.

Taking a deep breath and slowly letting it out, Kagome wasted no time. She pushed off and rounded the corner, kicking open the front door with the barrel of her gun trained inside.

Empty?

Kagome didn't let her guard down, slowly inching inside and glancing around.

The fireplace was lit with healthy flames- a kettle sat off to the side, an empty mug not too far away. Everything else in the room had a layer of dust costing it, but the armchair lay newly cleaned. Footprints trailed around the ashen floor, some human, some wolf prints.

Kagome searched the lower floor that comprised of mostly empty rooms, before pointing her gun up towards the stairs, setting foot on the first step.

It groaned loudly beneath her weight.

Wincing, blue eyes snapped to the top of the dark stairs for any tell-tale signs of movement.

Wandering up to the second floor cautiously and looking around revealed nothing more than dust bunnies.

Kagome frowned, eyeing the open window. Had he jumped down and escaped?

Sighing with disappointment, she shouldered her gun and trailed downstairs.

I suppose I can sweep the outside to pick up his trail again, but I bet he's long gone. He probably lit the chimney to distract me before making his escape and transforming for the night.

Wandering over to the kettle, she touched its side.

Still lukewarm. He'd literally just been there.

And I was too late.

Kagome groaned.

"What a disappointed noise. Were you aching to see me that badly?"

Stiffening, her heart jumped. The silky sounding words had come from behind her.

Pivoting on one heel, Kagome turned her weapon on the man lounging in the armchair.

His image blurred, snatching up her gun to lurch the barrel upwards just as she fired, the blast piercing the ceiling- some debris raining down.

Golden eyes sparked, snapping the barrel in two before throwing her to the floor with impressive strength.

Kagome gasped, back colliding hard with the wooden floors, winded. She quickly grabbed one of her pistols and trained it on the man- who had disappeared again.

"W-what?" she panted. "It's a Full Moon. Why haven't you transformed?"

"Ah, you wish for me to change? Very well," his voice rumbled from outside.

Fur blocked out the moonlight pouring in from the shutters, brushing along the side of the house. Quiet, hungry panting filled her ears.

Kagome quickly fired at the windows, but the shadows melted away, causing her to wonder if it had been a trick of the light.

"I heard tell of a woman who subdues my kind before using shards of a blessed jewel to revert them back into humans…"

Paws padded around the house, nails dragging- scraping the forest floor. "You have pursued me for some time. Did you hope to transform me into a mortal like those you have hunted before me? Break my curse?" the male uttered.

"I knew you were strong, so I didn't have much hope of using them. Taking you back alive to stand trial for all the things you've done is a tall order," Kagome grunted, lower stomach clenching. She quietly hissed. Cycle blood likely marred her trousers now.

"Indeed. Even if you shot me with one of your infamous jewels though, it would not work."

A figure bent down, twisting through the front door with the ease of a feline through bars. Sleek silver fur gleamed with a fiery hue, bathed in the hearth's orange light.

Saliva dripped from exposed canines, muzzle pulled back.

The werewolf towered over her in size. He had the look of a distorted wolf- pale torso resembling a man due to broad shoulders and defined abdomen. He shifted to stand upright, hind legs strong, capable of supporting his weight. Thick hackles rose, paws more akin to hands tipped with killer claws.

Unlike the other beasts she'd faced, this one had peculiar red markings slashing over his cheeks, lower legs and flank. Glowing red eyes burned with the heat of the sun.

"You unknowingly came in search of a Pure Blood. I cannot be 'fixed' little hunter. This is how I was born," he purred, mouth unmoving, whispering honeyed words in her mind.

Those eyes strayed down to her legs, nostrils flaring. "And you are in heat, no less. A fine time to go hunting for a predator."

Kagome shivered, raising her pistol and aiming it between his eyes.

The werewolf gazed at her calmly, completely different from the wild, almost rabid beasts she'd fought with before.

A Pure Blood…

She'd never come across a creature so ancient. He looked at her with intelligence, as she'd suspected from tracking him.

"I-I'm not in heat," she muttered, finger grazing the trigger without pulling it. Why wasn't he attacking?

"You hurt those townspeople. Why?"

"I walk among men in my other form. Occasionally I find those deserving of death. Those who harm their cubs and mates. Those who leech of their pack and drink themselves into violent stupors. Sometimes they simply get in my way."

Kagome grit her teeth, "so you dispense justice alone? I don't disagree with cruel people deserving some kind of consequences but you don't get to decide who lives and dies. That's playing God."

He chuckled inside her mind, mouth pulling back from sharp teeth in an imitation of a smile. "Is what you do so different, little hunter?"

"I follow the orders of my superiors- unless I think someone can be saved with the jewels I bless."

Interest brightened his gaze, tail swishing once behind him.

Her only warning.

The beast knocked her arms to one side, striking her down with a headbutt to her chest. The action sent her gun skittering away over dusty floorboards, disappearing into harsh shadows. One human-like forepaw pressed down on Kagome's stomach, making her breath wheeze free from frozen lungs- his other holding her right arm down to keep her pinned. He then leaned in close, white ears perked atop his head.

A white maw drifted over her startled face, nostrils flaring, inhaling her scent greedily.

"Holy powers…" he uttered thoughtfully.

Kagome's left hand fumbled with the hem of her shirt, eyes narrowing. "I'm a former sister of the church. It comes in handy when dealing with creatures that go bump in the night."

She abruptly thrust her formally concealed dagger up, aiming it straight for his heart.

Powerful jaws snapped down, locking around her arm- the beast hissing as her blade ran off course but scraped down his neck and shoulder.

Kagome yelped, dagger freezing. Her hand remained free outside of the cage of teeth but she dared not move. Teeth mouthed her arm without breaking the skin, until a particularly sharp canine made a trail of crimson leak down the inside of her wrist.

A large, wet tongue roved, licking and sliding over the length of her elbow and wrist while they lay trapped within the hot cavern of his mouth.

"Now we have both shed blood tonight, little hunter. Are you satisfied?"

Kagome panted, gritting blunt teeth. She glared hotly into large red eyes fixed on her, looming close. From the new proximity, she could now see his seafoam green irises and slit pupils from within the sea of crimson. They dilated the longer she looked.

"You are quite the woman," he rumbled appreciatively. "What name do you go by?"

"K-kagome."

"Hn, I am Sesshoumaru. I thank you for your relentless pursuit of me over these past few months. It was quite flattering."

Kagome opened her mouth to reply before a hiss broke her off. The clenching of her abdomen took up attention for a moment, twisting like a knife in her gut.

"Heat can be painful to go through alone," he acknowledged, teeth slowly easing from her arm, eyes trained on her warningly not to try anything. His slick tongue unwrapped itself from her arm with a trail of saliva. He licked his maw hungrily.

Kagome gripped her sticky arm, glaring from her position on the floor. No bite. Just a nick from his tooth. It wouldn't be enough to curse her. She warily lowered her dagger.

"It's just my monthly cycle. I'm fine...gn…"

"You seem it," he mocked, wolf expression unchanging, though his eyes danced.

His great head lowered, hovering over her groin. His nose drew closer, inhaling over the red patch. His long pink tongue slid out, drawing over it with a lingering lick.

Kagome yelped, forgetting her guns and blades- grasping the dense white fur of his neck. "W-what are you doing?!"

He managed to look suggestive without human features, tipping his head slightly. "As a hunter, it must be difficult to find relief. You are always working, are you not? Chasing evil…" his voice resounded with the finest baritone in her mind, coaxing and soothing, completely at odds with his monstrous appearance. He almost sounded aristocratic. "Fortunately...you happen to lie beneath a beast tonight."

Saliva, warm and dewy, dropped onto her leg in small puddles. Sesshoumaru gazed at her while snaking his tongue out once more, prying it harder between her legs.

Kagome gasped, back-arching, a rush spilling up from her cunt to twist sweet arousal at her core. She viciously clamped down on such a reaction, growling.

"No one gave you permission to take liberties with me, pal!" she drew her knee up, attempting to kick him away.

Sesshoumaru released her arm in favour of grasping her thigh, chuckling while forcing it down. "Why protest?"

Kagome snatched up her dagger again, pressing the hilt against her chest and keeping the point raised outwards.

"Why agree?! Y-you're a…" wide blue eyes flicked over his strange, inhuman body. "I've never- n-not with a werewolf. I'm pretty sure that's breaking some sort of rule. Or law."

"I will not tell a soul."

Her gaze turned flat, fingers shifting over the hilt. "I'm supposed to be killing you. We just tried to kill each other!"

"Hn, keep your friends close and enemies closer, as they say. Allowing them into your bed does not seem like such an extreme, and I find there is always a slight thrill in fighting, is there not?"

It was a night of firsts. Kagome had never experienced anything like it in her five years of hunting. None of her superiors had ever mentioned an intelligent werewolf who could control their transformation and shapeshift at will. The only whisper of it had come from dusty old books stashed away in catacombs. The air in the lonely house felt cold, tickling her skin like a living thing, but the space between Hunter and Werewolf crackled with intensity.

Kagome swallowed, feeling squirmy. She tensed when a wet nose came back up to sniff at her neck. Warm breath fanned over flushed skin as his snout travelled up and down, scenting. It soon buried itself within dark hair, making her gasp. The suggestion of teeth scraped the crown of her head, joined by a pleased, rumbling noise. Goosebumps rose on her exposed skin, blood burning, alight with confused but obvious need.

His alien, paw-like hand ran over her hip and breast, cupping the side of her jaw. The shock of thin fur and monstrous, long fingers tipped with claws should've terrified her. Kagome had fought against such hands for years. Her body held traces of scars where such nails had hooked and dragged into supple flesh.

As it was, when his second stroked her inner thigh, Kagome shuddered. He smelled faintly of clove and damp earth. His movements were deliberate. The inferno of his eyes when they locked with hers shone with hunger- but also curiosity. That mindfulness and clarity of his thoughts was what allowed her to hesitantly touch the hand on her thigh.

It felt too large and gangly to be a human, fur and heat brushing the calloused skin of her palm.

"You can't bite me," she warned, laying the flat of her blade against his neck. "I'll kill you if you do- and that'll instantly free me from the curse."

Sesshoumaru smiled with his eyes.

He forced her down again, claws making quick work of her pants, tearing a sizable hole at the crotch.

The wiry fur of his muzzle immediately dived down, fervently taking in her scent with hearty, eager inhales. It sent a rush of arousal straight through her, hips jolting.

Nose, teeth and tongue soon brushed her sex, before the latter thrust inside, heedless of the blood.

Kagome cried out, toes curling, going completely still. The invasive probing between her legs filled her entrance, sinking deeper. It then flicked outside, allowing her to feel the velvet rough texture. It swirled experimentally over her clit.

Shakily tightening her now slippery grip on the dagger, Kagome gasped and shuddered.

"I-I thought you were going to transform into a man-!"

Sesshoumaru gave a rumbling noise in response. He gripped the front of her blouse, yanking to rip it open and fondle her breast.

"You do not wish to see the creature you've hunted feasting on you?" the rumbling purr lifted into something darkly amused, tail flicking behind him.

He grabbed her hips, swivelling them to flip her over. Kagome yelped and snarled, about to protest when his palms kneaded her ass, raising it and tearing off the remainder of her pants- the pads of his thumbs dragging to her sex, spreading slick folds and delving a warm, thick tongue inside her all the deeper.

Kagome kept a needless grip on the dagger, a strangled noise caught in her throat. His muzzle nudged and pried, urging her to rock against his tongue. Feeling warm, she clumsily grasped at her coat, yanking her arms free and tossing it aside.

Full breasts were squashed to the floor under the weight of the werewolf as he pressed her down, but her nipples- stiff and hardened with pleasure- received friction from the steady rhythm. The pleasure came in small, electric bursts.

"Fuck," she groaned, biting her lip. This was wrong. She shouldn't allow this.

A clawed thumb rubbing at the sensitive bundle of nerves between her thighs silenced that weak protest. It felt good. So deliciously good. Men scarcely put their mouth on her down there, deeming it 'dirty' or beneath them.

Kagome shivered, pushing back against the roving tongue continually thrusting inside her core, flexibly twisting, rubbing against her inner walls and licking with heinous, grunting noises like she slaked his thirst. They found a kind of rhythm without communicating through words, and an incredible rush built in her stomach- delighted to rock against his mouth.

Bowing her head and trying to concentrate on breathing, Kagome jolted and shamelessly moaned as his movements became more relentless, hungrily collecting evidence of her arousal and cycle onto his tongue.

"W-why-?" she managed out, straining to look at him over her shoulder- the tongue plunging faster in quick delves like he were mining for gold- sharp teeth scraping her entrance, adding rapidly to the throbbing feeling building up in her lower stomach.

Why was he pleasuring her? It didn't align with a wild beasts actions.

Blue eyes glimpsed glowing crimson behind her. With a sudden push of his humanoid paw on her back, trapping her in place- Kagome squealed loudly as Sesshoumaru pried so deep he wore her like a puppet with his tongue, grunting with savage satisfaction when she came from the action.

"Agh!" Kagome cried out, body igniting, juices immediately flowing into his mouth, which he collected enthusiastically with broad strokes. Somewhere between all this, she lost grip on her weapon. The blade clanked against the floors loudly.

After pulling away, the werewolf paid no heed to the red staining his lips, licking at his jaw in a decadent, gluttonous manner.

"Why what?" Sesshoumaru sat back on his haunches, ears perking, haughtily eyeing her with an air of pride. He probably took great pleasure in reducing a hunter to such a vulnerable mess.

Kagome felt like she'd received her answer. "Never mind," she caught her breath, forehead dotted with sweat. Her muscles burned despite the lack of physical exertion, body feverishly warm.

She sat up slowly, wincing at the slick feeling of her cunt. It fluttered and clenched, demanding more- wanting to be filled.

"I feel better now. We can end things there and-"

Kagome caught an eyeful of his crotch, entranced by the hard evidence of his arousal.

Oh.

She swallowed, reading the look in his eye easily. They wouldn't be stopping anytime soon. From the look of his long, thick cock, they'd be spending a while easing it in if he were committed to pleasuring her.

Somehow she felt alright with that. The fever in her veins wasn't satisfied yet, though she had reservations about allowing a literal werewolf to take her. However something undeniable had come to life in the pit of her gut, something raw and hot that left her wet between her legs and wordlessly begging.

Sesshoumaru's claws closed around her ankle, dragging her towards him- her ass coming to meet his twitching cock.

"I do not think you have unwound nearly enough. You must expel all pent up frustrations if you are to continue hunting me. I worry you will fall behind if not- your tracking has become sloppy lately."

Kagome whipped her head up and growled- just as the head of his cock nestled at her entrance, cutting off the noise and sending it choking. Blushing, she reached behind her, spreading herself for him- holding herself open while Sesshoumaru gave that jagged flash of teeth in response, slipping his thick length inside her inch by inch.

Whimpering and dropping her hands, Kagome bowed forward, trying to adjust. He sank even deeper. The sheer slickness between her thighs helped but didn't assuage the terrible stretch that threatened to overwhelm her. He was too big, his large and hairy body towering over hers, encasing her back with the furnace heat of his body.

"Ease yourself back against me- slowly," panting breath fanned over her damp neck. She felt him run an almost affectionate feeling lick up the sensitive shell of her ear. "Relax. This body was built to withstand many things," his palm stroked a path over her navel, circling up her hip where a scar lay. "You will not allow me to dominate you so easily, will you, Kagome?"

Panting, Kagome tried to get used to feeling every inch of him inside her, filling her clenching walls to the brim.

His hands were three times the size of hers, one settling beside her on the floor. The way he loomed over her made the formally fearless woman feel small, crushable.

"H-ha! As if," she shakily replied. Not one to give in, Kagome did as instructed, slowly rocking back against him just like before. She winced. The sensation was much fuller and tighter, uncomfortable.

Sesshoumaru hissed and groaned, rubbing at her clit again to shoot tiny bursts of fireworks through her system. It helped coax some pleasure back into things. Kagome gave a shaky moan.

Sensing her change in enjoyment, the wolf began moving.

She cried out, wincing a little at his slight withdraw- before groaning as he eased back in, creating a slow, building pace.

The thick, soft fur that covered him from crown to foot gleamed in the light of the room. Kagome could feel it hot against her back, tickling her skin. The strands began to stick to flushed flesh. Sweat began to bead, rolling down her shoulder blades.

"You take me very well, for a human," Sesshoumaru nosed at her hair.

"I can't say 'taking a cock' nicely is the highest compliment ever, but- thanks," Kagome panted. He gave an amused huff, giving a hard thrust in response that knocked her forward.

Yelping, she grabbed onto the first available thing. Her breath caught when her fingers met soft, warm fur. His arm.

It felt sturdy amidst the sea of sensations. Kagome held tighter onto it, bracing herself. She could sense the control beginning to slip from her new bedmate.

Sesshoumaru growled ferally, fanning hot, sticky breath over her shoulders. He then slammed inside her- ramming his hard cock completely within.

Letting out a loud, startled cry that bordered on a scream, Kagome bit down on his arm. He set a brutal pace, thrusting his cock with a quickness that blinded her. She squeezed her eyes shut so tight stars burst behind her eyelids.

Strands of dark hair stuck to her forehead, the rest bouncing and swaying with the werewolf's chosen pace: hard and merciless.

She sank her teeth harder into Sesshoumaru's arm, but he was completely silent inside her mind now. Whatever debonair and lofty charm he possessed had been shoved far back into the recesses of his consciousness, replaced with raw primal need and heavy grunts. He sought to fuck, and Kagome found herself mewling receptively, weakly rocking back against him.

With a snarl, he yanked his arm free from her teeth- rearing back onto his haunches and dragging Kagome with him, holding her hips while continually rutting into her.

Kagome went completely speechless in both pain and pleasure. The new angle nestled onto his lap with the steel band of his arms wrapped around her waist allowed him to reach new depths.

Letting out mindless moans, she rested her head back against his furry shoulder, body ablaze, cunt squeezing him deliciously. The arms holding her prisoner forced her to meet each thrust, creating an intense friction inside that brought her into a state of begging. "P-please- more. Fuck-! More, I'm so close, please!"

Sesshoumaru gave guttural snarls and rumbles in response. But there was something strange happening with his cock. She could feel it even while held under the haze of pleasure. Nudging up against her entrance, something thicker than his length and more rounded threatened to push inside. His knot.

Kagome couldn't react- distracted by another orgasm ripping through her at the most inopportune time.

The knot swelled and stretched her sex farther than she'd anticipated. With a jolt of his hips, Sesshoumaru followed her into orgasm, throwing his head back in a deafening snarl. A torrent of cum flooded her, painting her inner walls- all locked in by the werewolf's knot.

Kagome jolted and strained, mouth opening in a wordless scream. Full. She felt too full. Her sex strained, still squeezing him like a vice.

Slowly, his voice drifted back into her head. "Very good...worthy female...powerful. Should claim..."

"S-sesshoumaru?" she croaked weakly, limp in his arms.

A silver muzzle nuzzled the side of her head in response, crooning lowly. "Hn?"

"You uh..." Kagome panted, giving a weak gesture of her wrist, trying to rise and finding it impossible. He was quite literally locked inside her. "You knotted me- shouldn't you have pulled out?"

She wasn't concerned about being pupped- she'd handled dodging pregnancy with herbal aid before. However, like this, it made moving away impossible.

"Why would this one do that?"

Blue eyes blinked, shifting up to him. His fur plastering against her skin felt like a feathery bed cushioning her spine. "Because now we're stuck, for who knows how long. A few minutes to 30. I figured you'd..."

Want to get away. Re-establish our roles as enemies.

He acted the same as always. She couldn't anticipate his movements or read him.

A sinuous tongue she'd now become intimately acquainted with slid up her cheek. The fur receded at her back, and Kagome stiffened with alarm.

When she turned slightly, she found herself gazing at the pale, handsome features of a man. His markings remained, branding him as something inhuman despite the skin, pretty fall of hair and stern sweep of his brow.

"I intend to have you many times," Sesshoumaru uttered out loud, sounding much crisper in the quiet room. "In a multitude of ways."

Kagome opened her mouth to reply, gasping when a tongue thrust inside her mouth. Grunting, she managed to return the dominating press of tongue and teeth, biting his lip for good measure and feeling him shiver.

When he began moving again while locked inside her, she fell into the murky waters of arousal once more.

-----

The morning sunlight peeking through the broken blinds brought many aches and pains with it. Kagome heard the front door shut, footsteps drawing away before falling silent.

Sitting up quickly, a fur throw fell from her shoulders. It pooled in her lap, revealing the full extent of fresh scratches and claw marks littering her nude body, along with bruises.

She winced at the stickiness between her legs. The smell of sex overwhelmed the stuffy room. So it wasn't a dream.

Noticing a steaming mug of green tea sitting before the lit fireplace loaded with newly chopped wood, Kagome tentatively reached out to touch it. Still warm.

He must've just left.

Running her hands up and down her flesh, she found no bite marks. He'd stayed true to his word.

Feeling a little complicated, Kagome blinked upon noticing a letter sitting atop a fresh change of clothes on the armchair. Her weapons were also neatly arranged nearby.

Picking up the parchment, blue eyes flitted over the message.

'Pursue me once more, my hunter. I enjoyed feasting on you.'

Kagome pressed her lips together. She shook herself a little. This was still the enemy, nothing had changed despite a thoroughly pleasurable night. In the privacy of the room however, she allowed herself a small smile.

After eating, washing and dressing for the day, Kagome stepped outside.

Securing her weapons, she gave chase.

End

[wherethewordsare]

I am once again hitting up your ask box to ask for fic

Can i pwease get selkie jask🥺👉👈

Cheese... As always, sorry this took a fucking age? I hope you like it? And just in time for Monster March!!! <3 <3 <3 

There had always been something about Jaskier that set Geralt on edge. But not in the way that he was used to. The way he would smile so easily even when Geralt was gruff and unrelenting left him disarmed and at ease. But it was also the way that there were nights when the moon was high and Jaskier couldn’t seem to find sleep that Geralt’s medallion seemed to buzz with a low but urgent hum. Those nights the smell of brine and sun and sawgrass was nearly chokingly strong, rolling off of Jaskier in waves stronger than a riptide. 

Magic. What kind, Geralt could never figure out. There had been something about the way Jaskier wore his heart on his sleeve that made it feel like there was so little the bard would actually hide from him, but this one thing. Maybe there was siren blood in him after all, maybe it was fae? But no matter what it was, Geralt wasn’t about to send Jaskier away for something he couldn’t definitively prove. And even if he could, would he?

They were near Oxenfurt, summer coming to an end and Geralt watched with interest as every so often, Jaskier’s head would pop up from where he sat around their campfire, looking westward. The way he tilted his chin as though someone had called his name. 

“What are you doing?” Geralt asked. He kept his tone light, his own eyes following Jaskier’s gaze west. 

“Hmm,” was all he got, Jaskier not turning to look at him, his eyes focused on the line of trees across from him. It took him by surprise, their sudden unexpected role reversal. He chuckled. 

“Jask!” Geralt set down the armor he was cleaning, waving a cloth in front of Jaskier’s face. 

“Ah! Right, sorry. Got lost in thought for a moment,” he turned to look at Geralt, his eyes still glazed over with that lost look. “You know, my home isn’t too far from here.” 

“Oxenfurt is just a day’s ride. Have someone waiting for you?” Geralt teased but the idea of Jaskier having someone that could pull him away from the path they traveled together made his tone more accusatory than he had intended. 

“No, not…” Jaskier’s eyes wandered back west again as he fidgeted. “Geralt, I need-” he licked his lips as if he was ready to say something. 

Geralt’s medallion gave a soft hum where it rested against his skin, warmer than it had been. There was nothing here to fight, only Jaskier, face flushed from sitting too close to the fire, his white linen shirt clinging to him slightly in the late summer heat. The nights wouldn’t be cool for another few weeks and they wouldn’t part for a few weeks after that if the snows held off. Or maybe. 

Whatever it was that Jaskier wasn’t saying hung between them in the slight vibration of low magic and crickets. 

“Come with me to the coast? There’s something I need to take care of,” Jaskier was suddenly on his feet, striding with unsure steps to his bedroll, his hands wringing in front of him. The magic stopped and Geralt watched as Jaskier turned his back on where he had been watching. He could see it for what it was, an offer to an answer of a question neither of them had been brave enough to ask. Not yet. 

“Could be some contracts that way,” Geralt mused, reaching for his sword to clean next. 

If he hadn’t been a witcher, if his sight hadn’t been so keen and had he not been already so attuned to Jaskier, he might have missed it. They had been traveling together for what must have been well over a decade now, and never once had Geralt seen Jaskier pull away from him not even remotely. In the fading daylight, it was hard to miss now. The moment Geralt wrapped his hand around the hilt of his sword, Jaskier had flinched away. 

He made no comment, only letting the sword rest back against the log as he changed tactics, reaching instead for another piece of his armor to clean. He couldn’t seem to catch Jaskier’s eyes as the bard finally settled down into his bedroll, turning over so his back was to Geralt. 

There had always been something about Jaskier that had put Geralt on edge, the smell of sea salt and warm sand and kelp that always surfaced, even with all the oils and perfumes he would soak himself in. A kind of worry gripped him, a beginning of an end to the unsaid things between them. Geralt waited patiently for him to drift off, keeping an ear open for the steady even breaths that came when Jaskier slept. Only then did he reach for his swords to clean them.

Silently he prayed to whatever deity would hear him that he would not find reasons to draw them when they reached the coast. 

--

It had been an easy kind of journey, a day to Oxenfurt then another few days to the coast proper. Once they had left the last village behind, Jaskier led the way, keeping always a few strides out front, his fingers nervously tweaking out half conscience tunes on his lute, barely paying attention to anything other than moving onward. Geralt found that there were moments of unending chatter and then complete silence. 

The last night that they camped, the trees had become pine and the grass was rough under Geralt’s hands as he gathered wood for the fire. Jaskier sat quietly by his bedroll, his eyes brighter than they had been in what felt like weeks. He moved his jaw every now and again as though he was trying to find the words to say but the most Geralt could get out of him was broken off sentences and hesitant glances. 

“Do you always kill the monsters?” He asked finally, setting aside his quill and lacing his fingers together in front of him, thumbs twirling anxiously.

“Only the dangerous ones,” Geralt said quietly. He had made sure not to reach for his swords in front of Jaskier since that night he had asked to go to the coast, afraid that the answers would slide away like the tide. 

“Oh, and how do you know when they’re not dangerous?” It had been a conversation they had had before, but then Jaskier had been less pensive, more chatty, taking notes for his ballads. Now his eyes barely looked up from the fire. 

Above them, the moon hung heavy and full, silver catching in Jaskier’s dark hair and casting his features into ethereal shadows where the firelight did not quite reach. Geralt risked moving a little closer, using the poking the fire as pretense before sitting beside Jaskier. 

“What are we doing here, Jaskier?” He wasn’t accusatory or flippant. There had been answers that he needed and he wasn’t sure what the right ones would be. 

Jaskier sat very still, his tongue darting out for a moment. “You know I trust you?” 

It wasn’t what Geralt had been expecting. Hell, it wasn’t something he had even really knew needed saying, not out loud. But they sat there, the words hanging between them like a door that would either be thrown wide open or slammed shut and locked forever. 

Jaskier chuckled, looking away. “I… Can you trust me, Geralt?” He looked over then, his eyes seeming endlessly blue just then, and so full of something that tugged at Geralt’s chest. He only nodded and let the night slip into an easy quiet between them. 

“Fall isn’t too far off at this point. It will be winter before you know it.” It felt so off-balance, Geralt being the one to keep breaking the silence between them. “Unless you have an engagement in Oxenfurt already lined up, I was wondering if you might-” 

Jaskier made a choking sound, his head whipping around to look at Geralt. “Wait!” There was panic in his voice as his hands came up as if to protect himself. 

It wasn’t hard to scent in the air, the sharp sting of fear and anxiety, Jaskier’s heart hammering behind his ribs. His eyes looked wild and it took Geralt a moment not to pull back himself. 

“Wait,” Jaskier took a shaky breath, swallowing. “There’s… Before you ask anything of me, let’s get down to the beach tomorrow. And then-” He looked down, pulling his hands towards his chest. The fear was gone but the anxiety only seemed to grow. It spelled of kelp in the sun and cold oceans in a storm. “Then you can decide if you still want to ask.” 

“Jaskier-” 

“Not here, witcher. Let me get to the shore first?” It wasn’t uncommon for Jaskier to ask things of Geralt but it was rare that they felt this important, this urgent. 

The sound of the fire and the crickets and the ocean far down the hill were the only sounds between them after that. Jaskier after a time made a murmured good night and slipped into his bedroll without another word. Geralt tried to ignore the sharp scent of salt that came from him, different than the ocean, deeper, tinged in everything that made up Jaskier. He doubted either of them slept much that night. 

--

Geralt must have drifted off at some point, however. When he woke up early, the sun was barely up, the fire had banked itself overnight and he was alone save for Roach who grazed in the hazy morning light. 

“Jaskier?” Geralt called, bolting upright and turning. 

“Let me get to the shore first,” he had asked. 

He debated with himself for a moment before deciding that he would leave his swords behind him, though Geralt couldn’t quite bring himself to leave the dagger in his boot behind as well. He moved down towards the beach, following the path through the thinning trees. 

Something was off the moment he stepped out past the first dune. There in the sand, clothes trailed down to the water, Jaskier’s boots kicked off just at the bottom of the first outcropping of rock. Down the beach, a wall of stone rose above the breakers. It would no doubt have a system of caves throughout it. The last of Jaskier’s things seemed to lead that way.

Geralt followed, wishing that he had in fact brought his swords. His medallion hummed then vibrated, shaking against his chest violently as something broke above the waves just to his right. 

A smooth head and wide eyes tilted towards him in the early morning light. The sky above the ocean still dark, the last stars slipping over the far horizon with the last sliver of the moon. The thing in the water moved up to the beach, a large slick body, flippers pushing into the wet sand. 

It gave a kind of greeting, nodding at Geralt as it rested in the sand. 

He hadn’t seen one in so long, Geralt almost didn’t recognize it as a Harbor seal, it’s pelt dark around its face, fading into a spotted silver coat. He didn’t move, let alone breathe as they watched each other for a long moment. 

 When the seal began to push up its body contorting unnaturally, Geralt took a step back, automatically reaching for the knife in his boot. Dark eyes watched him and seemed… disappointed suddenly as the body of the seal continued to convulse and shift. 

The sun broke above the trees and caught the creature in the face and those eyes suddenly shimmered a bright blue. He couldn’t throw his knife down fast enough as the hood of a cloak fell back from Jaskier’s face, sullen and terrified. 

“Well, was worth a shot,” Jaskier gave a wet laugh, pulling his cloak tighter around him. 

“You’re a selkie.” Geralt said flatly, his hands coming up to show he had no weapons. “I thought you were a viscount.” 

To his surprise, Jaskier snorted, the tension in his shoulders relaxing some as shuffled his feet in the sand. 

“I am in fact a viscount and a selkie, on my mother’s side,” he winced. “My father keeps her cloak from her. I just barely managed to-” he swallowed looking down. “Listen, Geralt, I know you plan on going back to Kaer Morhen this winter, and even if you-” he huffed, his hand shooting out from his cloak to rub at the back of his head. 

“You need somewhere to hide your cloak.” a decade of unasked questions started to click into place.

“Yes,” Jaskier sighed. “But you don’t have to-”

“And you trust me? A witcher? Jaskier, if something happened to your cloak you-” would be stuck, would die, would never be free again. He left everything to blow away out to sea in the wind. 

“I do, I trust you as a man, Geralt. I know what I’m asking,” his eyes were sad and suddenly infinitely vast. 

The wind tugged the hem of Jaskier’s cloak, the silvery ends snapping in tune with the crash of the waves. Geralt could see the top of his one thigh peeking between the slick material and suddenly he was far too aware that Jaskier was standing naked in more ways than one on a beach telling Geralt he trusted him with his life. 

He pinched the bridge of his nose as he took a steadying breath. “Get dressed bard.” This level of vulnerability left him feeling dizzy with a feeling he wasn’t ready to look at just then. 

Before going to collect his clothes, Jaskier closed the distance between them, sliding his cloak from his shoulders, the fabric shimmering in the sunlight as he folded it carefully and rested it over Geralt’s arm. 

“Hold this for me?” he asked softly, not meeting Geralt’s eyes. “Keep it safe?” 

There was no hesitation in him as Geralt nodded, laying a careful hand over Jaskier’s, still on the cloak. “Always.”

[phoukanamedpookie]

Who is Azula?

Princess. Warrior. Commander. Strategist. Child prodigy. Ozai's favorite. Monster.

Azula gets a lot of labels and expectations heaped upon her. None of them are connected to who she is as a person.

As we've discussed before, Azula has spent the majority of her life trying to be what Ozai demands her to be in exchange for crumbs of approval (not affection, not love). She's so enmeshed in Ozai's expectations of her that no one, not even Azula herself, knows who she is.

Contrast this with Zuko...

"Never give up without a fight." —Earth Kingdom dagger gifted to Zuko by Iroh, "Zuko Alone"

"I loved watching you. That's who you are, Zuko. Someone who keeps fighting even though it's hard." —Ursa, "Zuko Alone"

At his core, Zuko is someone who never gives up. This is a kid who's been chasing a ghost for three years at the start of the show, and he doesn't back down even after witnessing, multiple times, the power the Avatar can bring to bear.

What about Azula?

I admit that I had to think about this for a bit. So much of Azula is wrapped up in how she performs that finding something deeper was difficult.

With only her accomplishments to go by, I thought about what they said about her. The following really stand out:

Bends blue fire, which no other human, not even Ozai, Iroh, or Jeong Jeong, was shown doing.

Conquered Ba Sing Se, the Impenetrable City, in a bloodless coup.

Mortally wounded the Avatar, master of all four three elements.

Defended the capital on the Day of Black Sun against the Avatar and his friends without her firebending.

Saved herself from certain death at the Western Air Temple with a hairpin.

What do all these have in common? They were things considered impossible until Azula pulled them off.

That, I think, is a huge clue.

Azula does what's impossible. Her achievements didn't fall in her lap. They came because notices and seizes opportunities that most miss, and she's driven to excel at everything she touches. Because of this, Azula can achieve anything she sets her mind to. The word "impossible" doesn't exist for her.

She's that person who'd get marooned on a desert island then show up in civilization a month later none the worse for wear. And somehow she'd have done it with a piece of fabric torn from her clothes, a raft made of reeds, and a Lion Turtle.

This would have far-reaching implications for her transformation. Azula's only limitation is who she chooses to be and what she chooses to do. The only person who truly has the power to make or break her is herself.

That's a liberating yet terrifying truth. She can change and find her own way to make her mark on the world, or she can go down the path of Ozai, Azulon, and Sozin, with no telling what horrors she'd unleash.

[yourtamaki]

the wanderer’s lodestone

dabi x f!reader

word count: 3.6k

warnings: violence, detail of injury, murder, morally grey reader, dry humping, mutual masturbation, oral (m receiving), angst ending

if there was one thing dabi has learned over the years, it was that people always fell in one of two categories. there were those who would meet his gaze and those who avoided it. he’s not sure which is worse. the brave ones and their wide eyes, always staring at his marred skin with such sick fascination it made his palms itch in the worst way. or the spineless bastards whose eyes stayed glued to the ground when he walked past only to gawk at him like a sideshow freak when they thought he wasn’t looking.

two sides of the same judgemental coin, all part of the same corrupt society that preaches love until someone doesn’t fit their mold. it was getting harder to differentiate between them and at some point he stopped trying all together. what did it matter if he couldn’t remember how it felt to be regarded like a human being? he didn’t need to be human to carry out his vengeance, he only needed to be alive. 

that changed when he met you. 

it wasn’t his cleanest break-in but he couldn’t care less, too busy focused on not passing out from blood loss. it was shit luck that the alley he had chosen to rest in was part of a new hero’s patrol route. the kid was clearly scared out of his mind when he realized dabi wasn’t just another thug on the streets, his pale face illuminated in the night by blue flame. it was a shame, for a rookie the kid had talent with his dagger quirk, being able to throw and call them back at will, even change their trajectory midair. he could’ve made it far in the ranks. 

dabi wondered if they’d bury him with his daggers, scorched bones and all. 

it wasn’t his problem anymore. all he cared about was finding something clean to wrap the nasty cut on his abdomen. there was no special reason he chose your bedroom window to climb through. it was the first apartment with a fire escape he stumbled upon just far enough away from the ashes of the pro hero that he wouldn’t have to worry about being followed. your dim window was the first he reached and it didn’t take much effort to jam a knife between the glass and the lock to force it open. he thought the place might be empty for the night when he stepped inside and heard no signs of life. he got to work tearing the bedsheets in long strips and was nearly done when you walked in. 

there were people who met his gaze and there were people who avoided it. you were neither. 

you saw him. 

even in near darkness, your eyes found his and didn’t flinch at the monster that stared back. the room stayed silent as you seized each other up save the drops of blood that slipped past where he held his wound shut and splattered on the floor. 

“could you not rip my sheets up?” 

your voice was enough to startle him from his initial shock, twirling the knife once before going back to cutting up the fabric. “i need them more than you do. i’ll be gone in a minute, scream and i’ll kill you.” 

you scoffed but didn't reply, walking across the room and flipping the light on in a bathroom he hadn’t seen earlier. a wave of irritation washed over him as he watched you rummage through drawers. who would turn their back to someone who broke into their home? did you have no self preservation? 

you walked back, tossing several things onto the bed before making your way back deeper into the apartment. “close the window on your way out.” 

and with that you’re gone. a part of him wanted to chase you, to tie up the loose end but the memory of your eyes kept him frozen in place. the thought of those same eyes looking at him with fear made his gut twist and he didn’t understand why. he grabbed whatever you tossed at him, the few strips he’d managed to make and left the way he came. it’s not until he’s found an empty alley to rest in did he inspect the items. ace bandages, an entire bottle of hydrogen peroxide, fish wire and a sewing needle. 

your kindness tasted like pity and acid. he couldn’t convince himself to spit it out even as it burned a hole straight through his tongue. 

dabi hated you and he etched that hatred into his skin, stitch by painful stitch. hated you for reminding him that he had yet to purge the weakness from his soul. the same weakness that forced him to walk past your apartment over the next few weeks. it was stupid to stick around in the city for so long, especially after killing that hero. he told himself it was to make sure you’d upped your security since he’d tumbled into your home but it sounded the excuse rang hollow with no one to hear the lie. 

it became such a mindless part of his routine it took him a moment to realize one night that your window had been shattered open. his throat tightened almost painfully, your eyes flashed in his mind and he was flying up the fire escape a moment later. 

a lean figure was pulling open drawers when the sound of dabi stepping on broken glass made him whip around. it’s a pain, not being able to turn the man into fuel for his ever hungry flames but he didn’t think you’d appreciate him saving your house just to burn it down. 

the man’s movements were clumsy and uncoordinated, taking desperate swings that left him wide open for dabi to sneak under his defences. he’d just managed to grapple the intruder into a chokehold when the bedroom door creaked open and both men’s attention snapped to you. 

“you done yet?” you asked and dabi had to force himself to speak under the full weight of your gaze.

“were you here the whole time?” you nodded, acting far too casual for his liking. “why the fuck didn’t call the cops or something?” 

“i figured you’d show up.” you cocked your head at the incredulous look he threw you. “what, you thought i didn’t notice you coming around all the time?” 

he clicked his teeth in annoyance. “well, what do you want to do with him then, sweetheart?” 

it was a test and it was clear you knew it, glancing down at the intruder that had started weakly clawing at his arm. dabi would kill the man regardless of what you said but your answer would speak volumes on where you stood in this society rotted by false gods. 

“i don’t care what you do, just dump the body far from here.” you didn’t blink once as you sentenced the man to death, didn’t blink as dabi shifted his hold and the echo of a snapped neck rang out in the room. you held steady and a begrudging respect rose up in him.

he heaved the man over his shoulder, being mindful to keep the head hidden from your line of sight. you’d already passed his test, there was no need for you to see it any longer then he’d already made you. he just had to know if you were putting on a front or not. if you were, it would’ve been all the more likely for you to put in a tip about a certain villain that lurked around your neighbourhood. 

but instead you had held his gaze, didn’t look at him any differently and dabi didn’t want to know why he felt so relieved for it. 

he honoured your request, carrying the body through back alleys and shadows to the very edge of the city. his thoughts wandered, as they always seemed to where you’re considered, wondering how soon he could see you again while he watched the flames climb high into the night sky. 

“a tarp? seriously?” he’d lasted two full nights before his feet led him back to your fire escape and the brand new thick tarp that covered the missing window. you were in bed this time, reading a book the title of which he couldn’t make out with the dim light from your bedside lamp, not even bothering to look his way as he made himself comfortable on the window sill. 

“shitty landlord is taking his sweet time replacing the glass so yeah. tarp.” 

“you should move. i hear there’s a lot of break-ins going on around here.” he didn’t like how much your huff of laughter to his poor attempt at humour felt like a reward. 

“not all of us can afford to live in the hero sectors, you know?” 

the venom in your voice when you mentioned the hero sector caught him off guard. they’re one of the more subtle forms of corruption present in all cities with a hero presence. living in the hero sectors ensures one’s total safety from any threat. from robberies to natural disasters, a hero’s priority is focused on the rich who can afford the protection. no hero will ever admit to it, though. on paper, the sectors don’t exist. and yet the heroes flock to the same handful of neighbourhoods the moment a threat occurs. another underhand tactic to keep the poor in their place and the rich comfortable. 

you’ve become that much more interesting in his eyes.

“so, you here to bleed all over my sheets again or what?” 

dabi scoffed, “no, but i was hoping you could take these stitches out and we’ll call it even for saving your ass.” he could rip them out himself but where was the fun in that?

“yeah right. who saved who first?” despite your grumbling you waved dabi over, gesturing for him to sit on the bed while you went off to grab supplies from the bathroom. 

he expected you to pull up a chair once you returned but instead you placed a hand on his chest and pushed him onto his back. it took all his concentration not to flinch when you straddled him, your hand trailing under his shirt, fingertips grazing his burnt flesh as you pulled his shirt up, bundling the material and forcing it into his mouth. 

“you might wanna bite down on that, i’m all out of painkillers.” 

there was a gentleness in how you cut the stitches from his body, how you took care to dab an alcohol soaked cotton pad over each one. it made his chest go tight, unable to recall ever being this close to someone and not walking away with new scars. 

dabi found himself lulled into a trance by the rhythm of your hands, a trance that shattered as your fingertips strayed from the path of the cut, following the rows upon rows of staples that held him together instead. he watched your face closely, waiting for the disgust and horror to swim to the surface but your eyes kept the steadiness they always seemed to have. 

“does it hurt?” you whispered. 

he wanted to tell you that it didn’t hurt, not in the way you thought it did. that the nerves beneath his burnt and darkened flesh had died long ago and he couldn’t even feel the patterns you were now tracing on his stomach. it’s the unblemished skin that hurts, that always hurts. the parts of him that still cling to life. 

the human brain processes pain differently than any other stimulation it feels. pain never dulls, never vanishes no matter how long it lasts. every waking moment, his own mind tortures him with fresh waves of pain and never lets him forget the countless staples that pierce his flesh and tear him open everytime he moves. 

there’s so much he could tell you but the words refused to come out, burning up in his throat and leaving him choking on the ash. 

you didn’t push when no answer came, prying his shirt from his clenched teeth and pulling it back into place. “you’re good to go, stranger.” 

his hands that had been clenched by his sides twitched when you started to move away from him and judging by the tilt of your head, it didn’t escape your notice. you settled back over him and this time he couldn’t stop his hands from gripping onto your waist, trying to stop you from shifting.

“stop that.” he said through gritted teeth.

you gave another roll of your hips and smirked when his fingers dug deeper into your sides, “stop what?”

“you’re a fucking menace, you know that?”

“yeah. but you like it.”

he hated that you were right. but he’d be damned if he gave you the satisfaction of seeing him lose it from a little grinding. he used his hold on you to push you back slightly, spreading his legs even further until you were straddling his thigh instead. syrupy smugness filled his veins seeing you flustered for the first time since he’s met you.

“go on, don’t get shy on me now.” you were quick to shake off any reservations, growling at his teasing tone and grinding down on his thigh with a desperation that sent a thrill down his spine. “just like that, make yourself feel good.”

he couldn’t wrap his head around how right this felt. there should have been a moment of hesitation from either of you as you walked hand in hand over a line you’d have no way of crossing back over but instead you melted into each other, all his senses heightened and flooded with you, you, you. 

he was so focused on memorizing every minute expression that crossed your face he didn’t realize you were asking for help until you moved his hands from your waist to your ass. he was more than happy to take over, setting a brutal pace that had you crying out, bunching his shirt up in your fists to try to stay grounded.

“c’mon baby, let go.”

you cum with a strangled cry and he can feel every pulse and clench of your cunt through the layers that separated you. your whole body shook in his arms as he helped you ride out your high before you collapsed on top of him, your head buried in the crook of his neck. he let your hands wander up and down his sides but grabbed hold of your wrists when they started to make their way between his legs.

he was about to tell you to forget about it, to not worry about the ache that sat heavy and hard in his jeans but the pout on your face when you looked up made him freeze. 

“can i?” you asked, so close your warm breath fanned his face.

“you don’t- i didn’t…” he didn’t want you to think that this is all he’d wanted from you, that this wasn’t why he was compelled to return to you over and over. you seemed to understand his silent struggle, gracing him with a small smile. 

“i know. i want to.” any hesitation vanished at the challenging look you gave him while you freed his cock from its restraints. you held your palm out to him and dabi spat into it, never breaking eye contact as you do the same and wrapped your hand around him, coating his length in the mixture of you. you took as much care touching him as you did cutting his stitches, careful and sure with each stroke, sweeping a thumb over his sensitive tip to gather the precum that leaked like a faucet. 

as you worked his cock, he grabbed your leg that had fallen between his and pulled it up until your thighs were spread over his own. he couldn’t help the low groan that escaped him when he slid a hand into pants and past your panties and felt just how wet you were, sinking two fingers inside you just to hear you whine from the stretch. 

it wasn’t the best angle but dabi made it work, crooking his fingers and letting his rough palm slap against your clit with each thrust. when your eyes started to roll back into your head, he used his free hand to grab the back of your neck, pressing your forehead to his and making sure your vision was filled with nothing but him. 

“keep your eyes on me, don’t fucking close ‘em.” your mouth fell open as you nod, somehow keeping your pace steady even as he felt your walls fluttered around him. “show me that pretty face you make when you cum, sweetheart, i wanna see it again.” 

“‘m cumming ‘m cumming oh fuck- ! ” you gasped as your orgasm hit you. he moaned right alongside you as you squeezed just underneath his blunt tip in a sudden death grip, the pain-laced pleasure was almost enough to push him over the edge. 

you dropped to your knees quickly as you felt his cock twitch in your hand, popping the head into your mouth and rolling his heavy balls in your hand. the sudden sensation of your wet, hot tongue pressing at his slit had him shooting rope after rope of cum down your throat and his head spun when you swallowed every drop and showed him your empty mouth. 

dabi pounced, tackling you to the ground, cradling your head before it could hit the floor and crashing his lips onto yours so hard he already knew he’d have to give a gruff apology when they ended up bruised. he chased the bitter taste of himself that lingered on your tongue and shivered when your tongue ran across his scarred bottom lip and you didn’t recoil at what you felt. frantic, rough kisses melted away into a lazy make out that banished all but one thought from his mind. 

he could get used to this. he wanted to get used to this. 

“hey,” your voice pulled him back down to earth, something soft glimmering behind your eyes and dabi didn’t want to look away until he figured out what it was. “i wanna show you something.”

you wiggled out from beneath him, making your way to the window and pushing the heavy tarp out of the way before stepping onto the fire escape. 

following you up the winding stairs felt natural, like he was born to witness the small smile you threw over your shoulder to make sure he was keeping up. 

the view at the top was underwhelming. too many buildings pressed too close together, all the exact same height as the one you two stood on stretching as far as the eye could see to create the most painfully ordinary view he’d ever seen. but it was quiet. the roar of the streets below couldn’t be heard at all and dabi hadn’t realized how loud it all was until deafening silence took its place. and it was cold. cold enough that he couldn’t tell if the ache in his lungs was from the freezing air or the hazy memory of white hair that floated through his mind.

it was the closest thing to peace he could remember feeling in years. 

“you like it?” you were watching him closely, hopping from foot to foot and he didn’t know what possessed you to come out wearing only your flimsy sleepwear. you seemed proud of the little hidden treasure you found and something stirred in his chest thinking about how you chose to share it with him. 

“‘s nice.” he said, reaching out to cover both your hands in his and using just enough of his ever burning flame to warm you both. he found himself waiting once more for the sudden twist of revulsion in your features, for you to jerk away from his touch but you sighed in contentment as heat seeped back into your fingertips. you brought his hands up to your face, making him cup your cold cheeks and closing your eyes to savour the warmth. 

it was as you nuzzled into his palm that dabi realized exactly how dangerous you were to each other. undeserved kindness and crooked smiles and sharing secrets. he hadn’t earned any of these things and yet you handed them to him like it was the most natural thing in the world. 

and he’ll take them. because that was the nature of the fire he had been cursed with. it takes and takes and takes and you’ll be left with nothing to show for it but the grey ash of your generous heart. and in return you’d lull him with the false belief that he is more than the hatred that flows through his veins, that there was still a person buried under the mountain of rage he carried inside him. he doesn’t think he could survive without it but you would make him believe that he could. 

he’d destroy you. you’d ruin him. 

this, whatever this was that was growing between you was doomed to end before it had even started. he should leave you on this rooftop, leave the whole damn city and forget whatever you had tried to awaken in him. but dabi could never resist the call of destruction, would always want to know exactly how hot and how bright things could burn. what did love look like when it’s been bathed in flames? 

dabi pulled you closer, determined to find out.

dedicated to: @saintdabi​

[jaskierswolf]

😏 Hey, it's me, back again. On my knees, begging for more filth. I want some post mountain grovelling. I want Geralt on his knees. One of Jaskier's hands in his hair, holding his head still. The fingers of Jaskier's other hand in Geralt's mouth. <insert Gopher gif here>

Forgiveness

Not exactly filth? There is smut... but it caught plot. For those wondering... Jaskier's hair and beard looks something like this.

Rated: E

Length: 2.5k

CW: dom/sub vibes, subspace, oral sex

______________

Fear was not something that Geralt was accustomed to feeling. The trials had made sure of that, but the trials were created with monsters in mind, not bards. There had been a time when being afeared of Jaskier would have seemed preposterous. The worst thing that could have happened was the bard getting too close to a fight and getting hurt because of Geralt, but even then, Geralt had never been scared of Jaskier, more scared for him. Losing Jaskier to the witcher’s way of life would have been unforgivable, so Geralt made sure it didn’t happen.

Jaskier was gone.

And yet he still wasn’t safe. Geralt had torn his own heart into pieces to keep Jaskier safe, and now fucking Nilfgaard was destroying everything. Rumour had it that the army were looking for Jaskier, looking for a way to Geralt and to Ciri. So it was time for Geralt to swallow his pride and make amends. He’d travelled to Oxenfurt with his young ward in tow to search for his dearest friend, the man he’d broken. Ciri had been a surprising blessing in his life. Just like Jaskier, she had brought light to his life when there had been none, and he was beginning to realise that isolating himself did not make him stronger. His friends, brothers, lovers were more deadly than any sword or sign. Alone he was just one man, motivated by survival and a sense of duty.

For Ciri he would tear down the Continent.

For Yennefer he would climb the highest mountain.

For Jaskier…

He sighed. For Jaskier he would break his own heart, and for Jaskier he would try to make it right again.

It was more terrifying than any manticore or griffin.

A knock on the door, that’s all it would take. Instead he was just lurking outside the office, an elaborate “Professor Pankratz” painted in fine golden calligraphy on the panelling. Geralt pinched the bridge of his nose, every instinct he had was telling him to run, take Ciri back to Kaer Morhen for the winter and leave Jaskier. Surely no harm would come to him at the academy.

“Are you going to stare at my door all day, Geralt, or shall we go inside?”

Geralt’s eyes widened as he spun around to face his friend. He hadn’t heard Jaskier’s voice in years but there was no mistaking the lilting accent and the playful way that he spoke. No one else spoke quite like Jaskier. The bard’s voice may not have changed but Geralt was taken aback by Jaskier’s appearance. His hair, which had always been short and scruffy in the decades that Geralt had known him, was now long, the ends ticking just below his chin. The long locks were tucked behind one ear, and his fringe had grown out. But it was the beard that really drew Geralt’s attention. He’d never realised that Jaskier could grow a beard, he’d never even seen the bard with stubble before, and yet here was Jaskier sporting a thick beard that was as rich in colour as his hair, no sign of any grey despite his age.

He looked beautiful.

Piercing icy blue eyes burned with cool fire, and Geralt was reminded why this trip had worried him. Jaskier had been his most loyal friend, and despite his profession, the bard was dangerous. His tongue was sharp and his temper was short, for Lillit’s sake, he’d even tried to condemn a man to death with the blasted Djinn.

“Well? Come on, witcher, get inside or get out,” Jaskier said with the cool authority of the professor he had become. Gone was the eighteen year old fool that Geralt had met in Posada.

“Right, yes,” Geralt grumbled and stepped aside so that Jaskier could open the door. He trailed in after the bard, feeling very much like a dog with his tail between his legs.

“I never expected to see you at my door, Geralt,” Jaskier muttered as he busied himself around the room, sorting out his books and scrolls from his satchel, carefully placing his ink bottles on the messy desk, and shrugging out of his teaching robes.

Underneath the dark robes, he was wearing an elegant dark green doublet with matching breeches, gold thread stitching at the seams. To Geralt’s surprise, the bard's doublet was fully buttoned, hiding both the chemise and the mass of chest hair that Geralt knew was underneath the emerald fabric.

“I never expected to come,” Geralt admitted.

“Excellent, now you can leave again, it was good to see you old friend. Close the door on your way out.”

Jaskier’s words stung, a dagger between his ribs, poison running through his veins, but Geralt couldn’t give up, not without a proper fight. “I came to apologise.”

“Oh, ho, ho, that’s rich, witcher. What’s next? You’ll go and fetch your Child Surprise?”

“Ciri,” Geralt mumbled.

That seemed to have an effect, Jaskier froze, his back to Geralt. The bard slowly spun round and peered at Geralt. “So you finally found her?”

“I did.”

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Jaskier sighed, pushing his hair from his face and scratching idly at his beard. “Did she mention me?”

“She did.”

“So, tell me Geralt, are you here because you want to apologise, or because the princess demanded it?” Jaskier’s tone was sharper than any witcher sword, this was the man who had destroyed a knight’s honour with a few well-placed rhymes and catchy songs just because he had insulted Geralt, and Geralt wasn’t used to being on the receiving end.

“Nilfgaard are coming, Jaskier. I couldn’t leave you in danger. They are looking for you, because of me.”

Jaskier scoffed, throwing his arms up, almost knocking an ink bottle flying. “Nilfgaard, wow. Yup, yes, should have expected that.”

“I’m here to protect you,” Geralt growled, “and- and because I miss you.”

“Miss me?” Jaskier hissed, stepping forward so that there was barely any space between them, his sweet chamomile scent now flooding Geralt’s senses. “You should have led with that, witcher.”

“I-”

“Fine, you want to apologise. On your knees, grovel. I won’t follow you blindly again, Geralt. I need to know you won’t hurt me. You want to protect me?”

“Yes,” Geralt answered without hesitation.

“Then know that no one on this Continent has ever hurt me like you did on that fucking mountain. Forgiveness will take time,” Jaskier said haughtily, and Geralt dropped to his knees. He finally saw Jaskier’s rage for what it was; a shield. Jaskier was trying to protect himself… from Geralt.

“I am sorry, Jaskier,” Geralt said, his voice shaking but sincere. “I only ever meant to protect you. I lashed out. I was hurting after Yennefer. I shouldn’t have said those things to you, but-”

“Hollow excuses.”

“But I was scared,” Geralt finally glanced up, and oh what a sight. Jaskier was looming above him, his hair almost coppery in the candle light. He looked like a messenger from the gods. “My life is a dangerous one. I fucked up Yennefer’s life with one breath, how could I possibly risk doing the same for you?”

“You already did.”

“But you’re alive,” Geralt whispered quietly.

“I would have rather died, Geralt,” Jaskier hissed.

“Don’t be so dramatic, bard.”

“If it meant giving up my life with you. Life with you was the greatest adventure, there was never a dull moment. I got to live every single day. Now look at me, I’m trapped in a cage without the best friend I’ve ever had,” Jaskier spat. “So you’ll have to do better than that.”

Geralt lowered his gaze once more. He was running out of options, but there was one more card that he held close to his heart, rarely even admitting it to himself. They say that love can conquer anything. It hadn’t been true for him and Yen, but perhaps the sorceress had been right and their love was just an illusion created by his wish and the spell she’d cast on him.

“I love you,” he whispered, loud enough for human ears to hear but still a quiet admission, one he’d never said out loud before.

Jaskier didn’t say anything. Instead, there was a gentle tug at Geralt’s hair as Jaskier pulled the tie from its place. Geralt stayed still, letting his words hang in the air. The bard’s fingers began to gently run through Geralt’s hair, each touch sending warm tingles down his spine, and he felt his breathing relax almost into a meditative state. Jaskier had done this before when they were on the path, braiding Geralt’s hair whilst he meditated, but this felt different, there had never been this spark burning between them before.

There had never been those words lying heavy on Geralt’s tongue before. “I love you, Jask,” he repeated, his voice more slurred this time and he felt almost as if he had been drugged, his head feeling foggy. The haze got thicker with every stroke of Jaskier’s hand through his hair.

“Oh, dear heart,” Jaskier cooed, his voice sounding almost like a dream. “You have no idea how long I’ve yearned to hear those words.”

“I’m sorry,” Geralt mumbled. “Forgive me, Julek.”

“In time, my darling, in time,” Jaskier breathed, his scent sweeter now, something akin to arousal. It was hard to tell through the fuzziness in Geralt’s head.

There was a low whine, that Geralt vaguely registered as coming from him. Heat was beginning to thrum through his body, and he slowly realised that at some point he’d shut his eyes, completely submitting to his bard in his attempts to earn Jaskier’s forgiveness. He felt Jaskier’s fingers cupping his cheek, hooking under his chin. Geralt whimpered as he struggled to open his eyes.

“There you are, Geralt,” Jaskier whispered, “apology accepted, dear heart.”

“Jask…”

“I know, I know, I’m here,” the words washed over Geralt like a warm breeze.

“I- I- want…” Geralt didn’t know what he was asking for or what he wanted, but his head was spinning and suddenly the hand in his hair wasn’t enough. He’d gone so long without seeing Jaskier, and now that they weren’t together, it was like a dam had broken. All the things he’d been denying himself for years…

“Shh, Geralt, I’ve got you,” Jaskier hummed, and before Geralt could protest, he felt the press of Jaskier’s fingers at his lips. Eagerly, Geralt opened his lips, taking the digits into his mouth and sucking gently. He gazed up at his bard, drunk on the feeling of his own arousal.

Geralt had never seen Jaskier in his element at Oxenfurt before but the calm way in which Jaskier commanded the room was enticing. This was Jaskier’s office, his space. Geralt was the guest here, not the other way round. Usually Jaskier had to fit into Geralt’s life, but now it was Geralt’s turn, kneeling at the professor’s feet, a willing student, begging for another chance.

“Geralt?” Jaskier asked, cocking his head so that his long hair fell in front of his eyes. “Do- do you want this?”

Geralt hummed around Jaskier’s fingers, nodding his head. It felt like a stupid question. How could he not want this? It was everything he’d never let himself dream of. He tried to say yes, but the word was muffled by Jaskier’s fingers.

“Gods, darling, you look so beautiful like this,” Jaskier cooed, and there was a sharp tug in Geralt’s head. He moaned around Jaskier’s fingers, vaguely aware that his cock was now painfully hard in his trousers. “That’s it, my love, sing for me.”

Geralt moaned again, sucking at the fingers in his mouth, enjoying the weight on his tongue. He’d never done anything like this before, but with Jaskier it just felt right. When he’d come to Oxenfurt he hadn’t expected anything like this to happen. He’d been praying to whatever gods were listening that Jaskier would forgive him, anything more than that had been an impossible dream. Geralt’s eyes fluttered shut and he hummed happily, shifting his weight until he was in a more comfortable position, the one he used for meditating. Like this, he could sit at Jaskier’s feet for hours should the bard wish.

But instead, Jaskier pulled his fingers from Geralt’s mouth. The emptiness left an ache deep inside Geralt that he hadn’t expected, but Jaskier’s other hand cupped his cheek, tilting his head so he was forced to look up at the bard. There was an undeniable fondness in Jaskier’s eyes, and between the beard and the extra weight he’d put on now that he was settled at Oxenfurt, he looked so warm… cuddly.

And Geralt wanted him.

“Can I- do you want my cock?” Jaskier stumbled over the words, a break in his previously mask of calmness. “We don’t- it’s just a suggestion…”

“Yes,” Geralt breathed, gazing up at the man he loved. In fact, he could think of nothing he wanted more in that moment. He swallowed, his mouth dry as he shuffled forward to nuzzle against the bulge in Jaskier’s trousers. Jaskier groaned as Geralt mouthed at his erection through the fabric. “Please, Jaskier.”

“Go on then, witcher, please me.”

Geralt’s fingers shook as he untied the lacing at the front of Jaskier’s trousers, and they moaned in unison as he finally took the tip of Jaskier’s cock into his mouth, the taste of precum bitter on his tongue.

“Gods, Geralt, I never thought I’d see the day…”

Geralt just hummed, licking at Jaskier’s slit before bobbing his head, slowly taking more into his mouth. There was another tug at his hair and he hummed, relaxing into his movements as Jaskier slowly began to rock his hips, gently thrusting into Geralt’s mouth. All the while, a steady stream of soft praises fell from the bard’s lips. Geralt had never felt particularly aroused from sucking cock before, but at Jaskier’s feet, the gentle words lingering in the air and the rhythmic touch of fingers caressing through his hair, he was closer to cumming than he thought possible.

He gasped as he pulled back, biting back a moan as he rested his head on Jaskier’s thigh. “I- Jask, fuck…”

“Shall I take you to bed, darling?” Jaskier cooed, gently pulling Geralt to his feet.

His legs were shaking and he fell into his bard's waiting arms, burying his nose in the crook of Jaskier’s neck. Geralt hummed as he kissed Jaskier’s neck, the soft bristles of the bard’s beard warm against his skin. “Your beard is soft,” he murmured, running his lips along the edge of the beard until they were ghosting over Jaskier’s lips, a tease of a kiss yet to come.

Jaskier laughed, pressing their foreheads together. “The luxuries of Oxenfurt, my dear witcher.”

“Smells good too,” Geralt hummed, finally capturing Jaskier’s lips in a chaste kiss. The bard moaned quietly and his fingers dug into Geralt’s side, pulling him closer. “Smells like home.”

After a few moments of being lost in each other, Jaskier finally took Geralt’s hand, lacing their fingers together and leading him through the office to the bedroom that lay beyond. They had a long way to go before Geralt was truly forgiven but this was a start.

This was their start, their new beginning, a new chapter in their adventure.

[draconic-ichor]

In the Steel Steeds Heart

Chapter 53: Final: Jury

Warnings: strong language, sexual themes, blood/gore, body horror, violence, weapons/guns, action, angst, fire/explosions, wounds

Summary: The battle begins! Juniper teams up with Chris’s squad to gain access to the tunnels u set the stone church.

Feedback appreciated, 18+

By the time Ethan made his way into the workshop, he came face to face with a mutated monster.

It looked like an alpha varcolac, but its face had multiple emerald eyes, and a big mane of raven curls.

Ethan instantly went into fight mode, reaching for a weapon. The creature tightened, mouth curling into a growl of warning. Before Ethan could fire the gun was ripped from his hand. It flew through the air into Heisenberg’s hand.

“Cool your jets!” Heisenberg hissed.

“What the fuck is that?!” Ethan yelled.

“That’s my wife, try not to forget that she was sweet as hell to you.” Heisenberg spat, throwing the gun away.

“That’s Juniper??” Ethan looked back at the creature.

The beast stopped growling, looking at Ethan with big eyes. It gave a little nod, relaxing.

“Is she safe?” Ethan asked, voice wavering. His hand twitched to grab at his spare gun but he tried to squash that feeling.

“She has some hard days with it…but it isn’t her first time changing and she’s got a better hold on it now.” Heisenberg murmured, “It’s the blood that’s got me worried.”

“Blood?”

“It can send her into a frenzy.” Heisenberg finished in his pockets, revealing two large balls of a silicon/putty-like substance, “I’m hoping these help.”

“Block her nose?” Ethan nodded, “Smart.”

Juniper nodded her big head, multiple eyes blinking, “S-S…afe..”

“Yea, Doll.” Heisenberg smiled softly, “Keep you safe and on the mission. Can’t have you eating any of that bastard’s men, now, can we?”

She shook her head.

Ethan watched as Heisenberg stepped closer, gently grabbing her head and slipping a ball into each nostril. Juniper twitched her nose with discomfort but didn’t blow them out.

Heisenberg straightened, flicking his wrist. Ethan had to dodge as a pile of metal floated towards the other. It sat back down beside Heisenberg as he grabbed one and set to work.

Heisenberg tied the leather binds to the armor shell to her larger shoulder and upper arm. He took a step back to look her over. Juniper’s monstrous form now had spiked armor outfitted on her front legs, back, and head.

“Make sure it’s comfortable Mama.” Heisenberg instructed.

Juniper shook a bit, the armor staying put. She gave a nod, padding around. She paused, turning to look at Heisenberg.

Her big eyes stared into his, even in this form he could see the storm of worry.

“I…I lo-ve…y..o-u.” She croaked out, voice thick with emotion.

Heisenberg took her strong jaw in his gloved hands, drawing her closer to place his forehead against the metal over the bridge of her nose.

“I love you too, Juniper.” He closed his eyes, “So fucking much.”

They stood for a long moment before the sound of a clearing throat roused them. Heisenberg turned, glaring daggers at the man responsible.

Christ stood there, wide and imposing next to Ethan.

“So this is the one we don’t shoot?” Christ gestured at Juniper.

“Kill my wife and Miranda won’t be the last big fucking monster you deal with today, Redfield.” Heisenberg growled, eyes hard behind shades.

“I already debriefed my men.” He shrugged off Heisenberg’s hostility, turning towards Ethan.

“Were you so kind to remove all the explosives from my factory?” Heisenberg pulled a cigar out of his pocket.

Chris looked taken back for a moment, but quickly regained his composure to answer, “Your factory won’t be blown sky high as long as you keep your word and help us take down Miranda.” Chris’s tone darkened as he added, “And don’t try to take her place afterwards.”

“That wasn’t a yes.” Heisenberg bared his teeth.

Chris gave a smirk, “I suppose it wasn’t.”

Before the two men could continue the argument Ethan interjected, “Hey! We need to work together to take down Miranda.”

They backed down, if not with reservations.

“My squad is going to move out now, try to gain access to the megamycete before sunrise.” Chris explained.

“Juniper and the Soldats will go with you.” Heisenberg nodded.

“Are you sure you want to send them all out first?” Ethan asked.

“They won’t do much against Miranda directly, they were designed more to keep the Lycans busy. Also the more of the mold she had to divert to take care of them the less power she’ll have to deal with us.” He explained.

The other two nodded.

“They are pretty stupid though. If their control panels become damaged they may attack anything close. Steer clear of them.” He went on.

“I’ll warn my men.” Chris agreed.

“Juniper can go with you directly. She should be able to help cleave through anything you come in contact with.” Heisenberg added, “I've seen the varcolacs avoid her jaws.”

Chris turned to Juniper, face hard and calculating. Juniper held his gaze.

“Give me any reason and I won’t hesitate. My men’s safety and the safety of Rose is my top priority.” He told her.

Juniper was still for a long moment then gave a nod.

~

The morning was dark and cold, the fires from the village the only light. Juniper stood on the ridge, her sense of smell totally blocked from her. Her multiple eyes scanned the village, the screams had long since died and the Lycans were waiting for them to make the first move.

Heisenberg had mutated into his hulking form, a mess of metal and flesh. He looked over his droves of Soldats, neatly lined up and ready. Everything they worked for, all those long decades, was for this sunrise. He shifted the weight of his mass, speakers blaring to life, “Vorwärts!”

Like a wave, all the cores flicked on with a red glow. They became fluid, moving forward, brandishing their weaponized limbs.

Heisenberg looked up, meeting Juniper’s gaze. He gave a heavy, solemn nod, as best as his form would allow. She returned the gesture, going to meet with Chris and his squad.

After a debriefing Chris moved to descend into the village, Juniper following closely enough not to get in his way. It didn’t take long for the lycan’s to notice their presence.

Chris was the alpha of his men, but Juniper was an alpha amongst the Lycans. Now, however, they did not shrink from her. It was better this way, she felt less guilty about tearing them asunder.

Their blood and flesh tasted sour on her tongue, bodies wrong. She was thankful for this, not feeling the yawning hunger that sent her into a fever.

The more humanoid Lycans were easy, falling under her teeth and the men’s bullets. The varcolacs were more tricky: faster, stronger, more vicious.

Not to mention the thick tendrils of mold that burst from the frozen earth. The Soldats fought the Lycans easily, only falling when becoming overwhelmed. The mold would scoop them up and crush them like an empty can, showering the snow with black blood and oil.

All these and more made their progress to the stone church slow and perilous.

The church itself was a cage of molded roots, interlaced so tightly they would have to break through it to access the tunnels.

After they fought through to a good opening, Chris pulled out a beacon.

He pressed the button on his coms, “I've reached the target location.” Looking up at the mass he added, “Damn, this is big. Alright, Lobo, marking the target.”

As he started to charge up the beacon he turned to Juniper, “This is going to take a second, cover me.”

Juniper nodded, just as a line of Lycans formed on the ridge in front of the church. She growled, stepping forward.

They rushed her, jumping onto her back and snapping at her legs. Juniper shook them off, wheeling to swipe at the others. Just as her jaws sank into the next to last one’s throat, Chris called out, “Stand clear!”

Juniper jumped back and away from the blast. A blazing light, like a bolt of lightning, struck the stone church. The remaining Lycans were blown away, some Soldats being caught up in the blast as well.

Juniper shook the ringing from her ears, realizing it would need another good strike. Chris came to the same conclusion, moving to reload the beacon.

Just as the first time, Juniper protected him, killing anything that was no longer human that came close. By this hour many of the soldat’s control panels were heavily damaged. Chris’s squad was forced to turn their bullets on them as they no longer only saw the Lycans as a target. It made Juniper’s stomach clench.

After the second blast the way was opened, considering the stone church was not more than a crater now. The way down into the tunes open to the dark sky.

They moved in, Chris easily going downwards. He reported into his mouthpiece, “I found a way down. We’re going in. The rest of you stay back."

He moved deftly through the tunnels, not stopping when Juniper cried out for him. Her larger frame made navigation through the cramped spaces tedious and slow.

He rolled his eyes, not keen on the shaky partnership as is. He wasn’t going to wait for her.

The tunnel opened up into a cavern. As Chris stepped into the shaft of light, cast from a hole in the ceiling far above, something ripped free from the ancient growths of mold.

It resembled an oversized Lycan, covered in thick ropes of muscle and crude armor. Jagged teeth and milky eyes peered from holes in its twisted helm. Fleshy tendrils whipped around the space as it approached.

"Guarding the Megamycete, huh?" Chris scowled, opening fire.

The creature hit Chris, knocking him from his feet. It hulked over him, raising its mace high. Chris' eyes widened, burying a few rounds into its chest. It didn’t flinch, muscles ready to lower its weapon. Chris gave a silent prayer, steeling himself up for the death blow.

Suddenly the creature stumbled, giving a guttural cry. It turned sharply, revealing Juniper’s jaws sinking into its calf. She shook her head like a dog, pulling him away from Chris.

The great mace made contact with her head, sending her sprawling. The metal of her helm crunched in and pain erupted over her skull like a crack of lightning.

She stood, something hard and sharp on her tongue. For a moment she thought it may be a sharp rock. She spat the object away, realizing it was one of her teeth.

Her tongue ran over the weeping hole sending ripples of pain over the side of her head.

Blood dripped down her muzzle, sizzling in the snow. The vision in her left eye blurred as she huffed out hotly.

The other creature rolled its shoulders, bellowing out a challenge. It lifted its mace.

Juniper sucked in the ashen air, the taste of sour smoke on her tongue. She roared out until her lungs ached, meeting the challenge.

The pain was lessened, drowned out by her adrenaline. The fear of death was replaced with the deep conviction of their cause. This wasn’t for her anymore, no, it was for Kolt. For a long time, it was for him.

Muscles bunching she surged forward, kicking up snow and rocks. Her teeth smashed into the handle of the great mace, her muzzle almost touching his own as her claws sunk into the meat of its shoulder.

Chris found his footing, setting up the beacon for the target locator. It took some finagling, the hole in the ceiling not allowing much wiggle room.

“Juniper!” Chris yelled, his voice a warning.

Heading the urgency in his tone she shook free of the hulking creature, jumping away.

The second as she was out of the beam, Chris pressed the button. The cavern was filled with a blinding blue-turquoise light. This close to the blast made Juniper’s skin tingle.

The creature took the brunt of it, it’s cry gurgling away. It took a good few moments for their sight to return after the light waned.

Juniper let out a sigh of relief, seeing the creature crumble. His mace clattered against the stone.

“You saved me…” Chris mumbled, voice a bit distant.

Juniper looked at him: her fur matting with blood, and the eyes on her left side already swollen shut. She huffed out, muscles trembling but she didn’t rest.

“Thank you.” Chris finally spoke again, honesty thick in his tone.

Juniper nodded to him, a mutual understanding between them.

They continued down the tunnels until it opened into a large cavern. Hanging in the center of it all, wet and pulsing, was the megamycete.

Chris pressed his radio, speaking into it, “Alpha to squad, I've located the Megamycete."

Juniper shrank under the shadow of the mass, seeing it brought painful memories bubbling up in her mind. She gave a canine-like whimper.

“I can take it from here.” Chris pulled an explosive from his coat.

Juniper’s good eye alit with curiosity.

Seeing this, Chris explained, “This should completely destroy the megamycete…and take this whole village with it.”

Fear flashed over Juniper’s beastial face, “F-F…act-t..or-y??”

“It shouldn’t reach the factory.” Chris assured, “If you can make it to the stone bridge, it will be close but survivable.”

Juniper nodded.

“Go help Ethan.” Chris waved her away, turning towards the growth.

Juniper watched him for a moment longer, before turning back and running down the dark tunnels.

~

Juniper’s paws thudded over frozen earth and stone. She panted out as she dodged tendrils of mold. Her heart hammered in her chest, fear rising as she heard the sound of gunshots.

The ceremony site was a cage of fungal roots. The closer she got she could hear Miranda’s voice, dark and twisted. Another sound caught her beastial ears.

Heisenberg.

In anger or pain, she didn’t know. But it spurred her forward. Juniper slammed into the wall of mold, it not giving. She clawed and bit and tried to rip the tightly woven roots away.

But they didn’t budge, if she managed to break any parts away they were quickly replaced.

Juniper could hear Ethan and Heisenberg, panic raising the longer she couldn’t gain entrance.

She sunk her claws in, black liquid seeping around her twisted fingers.

She cried out, desperation thick in her howl.

[blackrosesandwhump]

The Marvelous Resurrecting Boy, Part 1

@whumping-out-of-time @forthetaintedsorrow-whump

CW: minor/immortal whumpee (he's 17), death, restraints, poison, referenced pet whump (it's just a reference to his past, but I wanted to include a warning anyway)

A/N: Bram is from my archived series Inherited, but I decided to write a new story with him since I didn't much like the original one.

Musty wood. Close, stale air. Voices murmuring, a gentle creak and sway under him, rope digging slightly into his wrists. His legs felt cramped, folded into a corner of the box. His left foot had fallen asleep. Sweat clung to the back of his neck and the palms of his bound hands. Not comfortable in the least. But he was used to coffins, and this wasn't much different.

He opened his eyes. Darkness, slatted with lines of light. The view hadn’t changed since before he’d managed to doze off. But beyond the scope of voices, he could hear a strange bustle, languages he didn’t understand, mysterious noises he didn’t recognize. Where was he? What was this place?

Bright sunlight flooded in abruptly, blinding him. A pair of rough, scarred hands reached in and pulled him out. He stood up, shaky from being cramped for so long, hands tied in front of him. Too many pairs of eyes. He kept his head down.

“Spindly little lad,” someone remarked in a thick, strange accent. “Not what I expected for someone who can’t die.”

A different pair of hands lifted his bound wrists, examining his arms, peering at his chest and profile. He forced himself not to shrink away. He couldn’t handle a punishment just yet.

“Still,” continued the voice, “he’ll make a perfect new attraction. Who could resist seeing for themselves the Marvelous Resurrecting Boy?”

---

The Marvelous Resurrecting Boy. That was his new title, his new name, his new identity. He was no longer an inherited pet.

A breeze caught the letter from his old master, casting it into a patch of fresh mud just outside the tent flap. He didn’t bother picking it up. His old life didn’t matter anymore. He was a legend now, the prime attraction in a traveling show of monsters and curiosities. Crowds of well-dressed onlookers paid the expensive viewing fee over and over again, eager to watch him rise from the dead. His death was the attraction. His death, and the awe-inspiring, breath-taking moment afterward when he opened his eyes, alive.

Bram pressed a hand over his stomach. A dagger in his gut. His last death had been on the spectacular side, the melodrama heightened by a rehearsed dialogue between him and his handler. Just what the audience loved. He still felt sick at the memory of their thunderous applause.

Someone ducked through the entrance of his tent. Bram swallowed hard, glancing at the pocketwatch that hung at the foot of his bed. Almost time for his next performance. Almost time to die again.

“You ready, boy?” The stage-hand, his face pink from working outside all day, looked him over. He seemed satisfied with Bram’s appearance, but barely.

Bram nodded. It felt like a lie. He wasn’t ready. He never was.

“Coming.” The word tasted like cotton in his mouth. His throat had already gone dry. He swallowed again, letting his mind grow blank as he followed the stage-hand to the wings. The crowd gasped and clapped passionately as the act before him finished and the horned girl emerged from her pool of fire, unscathed. Bram’s stomach knotted. It was his turn, his turn to perform. But his feet wouldn’t move. He couldn’t do it, he couldn’t die again, not this time—

“Move!” the stage-hand hissed, shoving him forward. He stumbled onto the stage. The crowd broke into applause yet again. They knew him. They couldn’t wait for his performance to begin.

This time, it was poison. The vial was waiting for him, displayed on a table in the middle of the stage, catching the light. His handler was waiting too. At his cue, Bram stepped forward and took the vial in his hand, showing it to the crowd so they could see it clearly.

They gasped as he drank. It didn’t take much. His body spasmed. He felt himself collapse—he couldn’t breathe—his lungs were paralyzed—he arched backward once, fighting—and the world winked out.

---

He jolted back to life with a ragged gasp. His heart pounded; a few seconds of silence, then the crowd erupted.

Bram’s head felt foggy. He staggered to his feet and turned in a slow circle, showing that he was very much alive. The crowd’s appreciation doubled, a barrage of applause and cheers, the same he’d heard every time he came back to life. Sickening, just as it had been the first time, and the fifth, and the tenth.

Sleep. That was what he needed. Death was exhausting. At least this time, he had a few days before he had to do it all over again.

He collapsed onto his cot and sank into a dreamless doze just as it began to rain.

[smellsfaintlyofvanilla]

Hi, I have this super specific idea so feel free to ignore this one lol. So basically, Annie and the reader have been dating for a while, like at least a year. And the reader is in the survey corps right, so during one of the missions she ends up getting injured in an explosion and she's like all burned up and covered in injury's that'll scar really bad. And so the reader gets taken to a hospital or med bay or whatever, and she's been out for days, and like Reiner, Eren, Mikasa, etc. are all there, ya know her little gaggle of friends. And like she's been unconscious for days but sometimes she'll wake up for a few minutes and pass out again. So when Annie gets the news and comes to see her she like starts to wake up, and when she's coherent Annie is holding her hand and says "I'm glad you're alive" or something, then the reader just kinda stares at her for a minute and says "are you one of my friends from the cadet corps" and everyone's shocked and Annie kinda runs off. And ass the reader gets better she's allowed to walk around town and shit as long as someone's with her because she he's trouble walking, and she like can't hold things in one of her hands without shaking like she's about to fall apart. She basically hos no memories of absolutely anything so if someone says that their friends she just believes them and wants to be with them, which is a contrast to how she was in the cadets because she was always super short tempered and would pick fights with everyone, but she always had a soft spot for Annie and would follow her around and shit while being an ass to everyone else. So now she has no memories, blind as shit, can barely walk, and is super kind and polite to just about everyone. And like she insists on Annie seeing her and wants to go with her wherever she goes and is all smiles and happiness while Annie is kinda having a crisis. Because they were both very closed off people and they opened up to each other and built unwavering trust and loyalty but now one of them doesn't remember, Annie wants to help her but at the same time she feels that it's for the best if they stay apart, uh spoiler they don't stay apart it's just gonna take time. I'm really sorry this was so long dude. Also please tell me this made sense I haven't stopped think about this for days

I- It’s a little confusing but I think I get it.

Let me know if I get anything wrong!

I also included a lot of platonic AruAni because it’s cute.

Unbearable

(Annie Leonhart x Reader)

AU: Canon

Warnings: Implied season 3 spoilers

Category: Both angst and fluff (somehow)

Summary: After getting seriously injured in a mission, Annie’s s/o doesn’t recognize anyone, and is left very weak. Still, Annie and her S/O stick together through the recovery.

Words: 5.5K

It’d gone wrong. It’d all gone horribly wrong.

A freak accident—only preventable by, perhaps, closer gear inspection, but it was far too late for that. The damage had been done.

The most recent Survey Corps mission was just concluding, and you managed to call yourself one of the lucky ones who survived this far. Erwin led the charge back to the walls at full speed, having completed the objective by the skin of his teeth, but an abnormal titan was tagging dangerously close behind.

The towering beast approached closer and closer, until it kicked the horse you were on, sending you and it abruptly flying through the air and away from the Scouts.

It took you a minute to regain your senses and realize the gravity of your situation. Your horse lay dying 40 feet away from you. Clearly, it would be of no help. The abnormal lurched towards you unnaturally, and your eyes widened in fear.

A quick movement of your upper body caused a jolt of pain to shoot up your chest, and you were positive you must’ve broke a few ribs when you collided with the dirt.

Still, you had limited time before the monster reached you, and you weren’t about to die that easily. You bore the pain in your chest as you stood up straight, beads of cold sweat rolling down your face as you surveyed your situation to find the easiest way out.

You were too far from your horse, and the rest of the Scout formation, and you were in no shape to run. Your head turned towards the walls, and an idea popped into your mind—you were going to scale the wall.

You broke into a quick sprint before you shot your ODM gear into the wall, flying towards it at lightning speed. Your back took the brunt of the impact, and you groaned in pain.

Still, it seems as if the abnormal wasn’t going to let you get a moment’s rest, as it caught up to you and tried to jump and grab you, but narrowly missed your boot. The rush of adrenaline kicked your body into gear as you shot the grapple of your ODM gear onto the ledge of the wall and hauled yourself up, a garrison soldier helping you before turning to man one of the cannons.

You stood up triumphantly on the wall, the titan below you still trying in vain to reach you. You could hear the distant shouting of a commander—and what you could out assume was the foreboding shout, “FIRE!!!”

And that’s where everything went wrong.

The cannon, no more than three feet to your right, exploded into a supernova of sparks and flames, and the last thing you saw was fire as blinding pain shot through your body.

And then it all went black.

---

“Ma’am, I’m sorry, but only family members are allowed to see her at the moment, you’re going to have to wait until she’s discharged.” The poor receptionist sighed, staring up at the distressed woman in front of her.

“I don’t care if ‘only family is allowed’! I’m her girlfriend, I should be allowed to see her!” Annie shouted, dressed in a simple white hoodie and grey pants. An outfit too casual for her to wear outside in most occasions, but when she heard the news of your admission to the hospital, she didn’t care to change.

“I’m sorry, there’s really nothing I can do-”

Annie leaned in closer, grabbing the receptionist by the collar of her shirt and pulling her in, a dangerous look gracing her face. Her voice came out in a threatening growl.

“Look, I’m a part of the military police, so if anyone asks, I’m just her older sister,” She glared daggers the woman, who shook like a leaf at the intimidation, “Got it?”

The woman nodded urgently, sweating bullets at this point, and Annie was thankful the intimidation had worked. “R-Room 302...”

She didn’t bother letting out a response as she ran to the wing of the hospital you were in. She didn’t know quite where the room was, but she would find out soon enough.

After a painful few minutes of searching, her eyes found the plate outside of a closed wooden door, the number reading “302″.

She walked up to it, and took a deep breath in before twisting the doorknob and pushing her way into the room, but her eyes widened in surprise and she gasped at the sight.

She knew it was bad—after all, nothing good ever came out of being so close to an explosion like that—but she couldn’t have been prepared for what she saw.

You were laid down on the bed, clearly unconscious, and sweltering burns covered at least 60% of your body, especially your right side. Many limbs were elevated and covered in taunting white casting, and you let out shallowed, labored breaths.

She mentally cursed the primitive healthcare the Eldians seemed to have, and the lack of a doctor in the room. She was no professional, but you definitely didn’t look to be in a state to be alone.

She though you were alone, that is, until her rationality returned to her and she noticed many figures in the room, though none bore the staff uniform.

They seemed to notice her before long, and a few stared at her quietly with pity in their eyes. She scanned the faces that surrounded her; Eren, Mikasa, Armin, Sasha, Connie, and Reiner were all present in the room.

“What in...” Her voice came out short in her throat; the words were just as powerless as she was, “What in God’s name happened to her...” It was hushed, almost husky, and it sounded like she was about to cry. Maybe she was, but she didn’t notice.

Mikasa seemed to be the first one to speak up through the heavy silence, stepping forward to grab Annie’s attention.

“It was on the recent scouting mission yesterday. She narrowly escape a titan by climbing over the wall, but one of the Garrison’s cannons blew up.” Mikasa looked to the side, clearly troubled by the situation as well. “Of the four people caught up in the explosion, she’s the only one still alive.”

Annie didn’t process quite what Mikasa had said at first, her mind was more focused on a pressing question that suddenly arose in her mind.

“The only one still alive?” She echoed. “Why did you phrase it like that?”

Mikasa sighed, covering her mouth with her scarf—something she often did when she was troubled. “Well, the doctor is doing all he can at the moment, but she’s been drifting in and out of consciousness nonstop for the past hour. Even when she is awake, we can’t seem to get a coherent response out of her.”

She froze.

Her eyes moved back to your battered form. She hadn’t taken in exactly how bad it was until now. Shattered bones, burnt skin, compromised organs—you were nearly unrecognizable. Not in the way that you were scarred beyond recognition, but in the way that she never imagined to see you in such a state. You looked like you had, quite literally, went through hell and back.

She let out a pained sigh, slinking down in a chair next to the bed and staring at the floor in defeat. She reached out and grabbed your limp hand at your side, running her thumb delicately over your burnt hand, as if the slightest mistouch would cause you to shatter like delicate porcelain.

“Please...” She knew you couldn’t hear her, but she didn’t care. She just wanted to pretend, for a brief moment, that you could, and that you’d bounce right back up. But, you stayed limp on the bed, unmoving. “Please wake up...”

The others were able to read the room and came to a silent consensus, filing out of the room wordlessly.

She continued to hold your hand, sitting silently on your bedside for hours.

You never regained consciousness once.

---

Dreams flashed through her mind, the inner turmoil she faced was too fierce to not have such vibrant, nonsensical dreams. Dreams of you, spending late nights with her, or eating with her in silence. Dreams of your broken and bloodied body being sent flying from a hellish firework of flames. Dreams of visiting a newly dug grave. Dreams of—

A loud banging startled her out of her sleep, and she opened her eyes with a start, the dreams stopping abruptly as her brain pieced together the fragments of reality. Right, they were just dreams.

The banging—what was it? She looked around for a source. Nothing had fallen, nothing had moved, the room was still.

*BANG BANG BANG*

She jumped at the loud so, before facepalming internally. Of course someone was knocking on the door, what was she thinking?

A quick glance at the clock showed the time; 3AM. What is going on?

She rubbed the sleep from her eyes as she threw on some sweatpants, just presentable enough to answer the door.

She twisted the knob open and was greeted by...

“Armin?” She slurred, confusion and tiredness laced her voice.

“Annie...!” He had a strange look on his face, like he was in a hurry. Yet, it didn’t look like desperation, nor was it excitement. “Y/n woke up!”

---

She had never run faster. She didn’t care about leaving Armin in the dust at her front doorstep—hell, it didn’t even process until minutes later that she didn’t even close the front door. She just ran, ran, ran all the way to the hospital.

She made it to your room again, panting and desperate to see you again.

She went inside, and an immense wave of relief and joy washed over her face. It was true, you were conscious. Sitting up in the bed, talking to someone at your bedside, likely a nurse or a doctor.

Her loud footsteps and heavy breathing brought the attention of both you and the staff member to her, and you locked eyes with her.

She froze. There they were. The beautiful E/C eyes she had fallen in love with, and the same ones that filled her vision when she first awoke next to you in the morning. Except, something was off. She couldn’t quite place it, but there was disarray in your eyes. A storm.

She paid no mind to the rotten gut feeling, though, and rushed by your side to grip your hand tightly. A spark of sympathy arose in her chest when you whimpered in pain at the motion, but that was the last thing on her mind. Tears of happiness sparked in her eyes and threatened to roll down her cheeks.

She bowed her head—a sign of vulnerability that only you were ever able to see.

“Y/n, I...!” She choked out through the tears in her eyes, the back of her throat tightening with emotion, “I’m so glad you’re okay...”

You didn’t embrace her, you didn’t squeeze her hand back. No, you were still. Still as you were when your battered body was first admitted to the hospital. She looked up at you, and the same misguided look was in your eyes.

“Sorry... do I know you?”

---

She slammed the door behind her, locking it as she slid down the wall of her house, sobs wracking her body.

Her mind had neglected to process it until just now, but the truth was inescapable; you didn’t know who she was anymore. You didn’t know anyone or anything anymore.

Amnesia.

She couldn’t bear to see you like that. Seeing you so physically broken was bad enough, but seeing you confused and lost, years of memories and connections and friends just out the window? If there was a god, he sure as hell must’ve hated you.

She had no idea what to do. You weren’t going to just magically remember her. No, the Y/N she knew and loved all those years was gone. You were just a blank slate. She no longer meant anything to you, she was a stranger in your eyes.

She laid down to go to sleep, but she couldn’t even bring herself to close her eyes. She didn’t sleep that night.

---

She chose not to get up the next morning. She stayed in bed, staring at the empty space next to her where you usually slept. She wanted you to be right there next to her. God, she wanted you back.

She would’ve stayed in her depressed, hibernated state for hours, or even days, had someone not stopped by to check on her.

She figured it would be Armin. The sympathetic blonde man would always stop by to check on her. Not just now, but throughout their days as cadets. He was always the second person—after you, of course—to check up on her and ask how she was doing.

But when she opened the door and saw Mikasa, she was a little confused.

“Mikasa, what are y-”

“Y/n wants to speak with you.” She stated flatly, and Annie physically recoiled at the mention of your name.

“She... what?” Annie muttered, confusion enveloping her tone.

She understood the statement, on a surface level at least. But she didn’t understand why. Why did you want to talk to her? She meant nothing to you. What was there to talk about anymore? You probably didn’t even know her name.

She complied silently, though, and before long, she had trudged herself all the way to the hospital.

302. Such a depressing number to her now. But it was unavoidable. You were on the other side of the door, awaiting her for some odd reason.

She pushed the door open, and her eyes met yours silently. You were sitting up with your hands folded neatly in your lap. Your eyes followed Annie as she wordlessly shut the door and took a seat next at your bedside.

“Annie.” The blonde women flinched at the sound of her name, eyes staying fixated on anything but your face. “Annie.”

She finally shifted her head, meeting your gaze. There was a pitiful look tracing her features. It would look like indifference at first glance, but being so close to her allowed you to notice small features on her face, like her sunken in eyes, and her lips, tucked into a frown slightly tighter than normal.

She looked like she was about to cry.

You moved your arm slowly, wincing internally as your wounds burned and ached, and took her hand in your own, rubbing your thumb over the back of her hand in a soothing manner. Annie didn’t want to enjoy it—she knew this wasn’t the you she had fallen in love with—but she couldn’t stop herself from remembering the simpler times, where small affectionate gestures like this were normal to her.

“Mikasa told me just about everything I’ve forgotten.” You finally spoke up. “About the Scouts, about the accident, about us.” A painful silence filled the room for a moment following the word ‘us’. Surely, it meant more to her than it did to you.

“Annie.” You squeezed her hand despite the pain shooting up your arm, and your hand trembled involuntarily. “I know I don’t really know you,” You chuckled lightly, “or anyone for that matter, but I want to spend more time with you. We can just restart, fall in love all over a-”

“No!” She snapped, the sudden outburst causing you to jump. Her distressed eyes softened when she saw you, almost as if she thought you were made of glass, and that you would break at any moment. “No... please...”

She stood up abruptly, dropping your hand to lay dormant by the side of the hospital bed. “You don’t even know me! What’s the point?!”

Despite her angry appearance, her bottom lip trembled, and her voice shook as she spoke. Pricks of tears appeared at the corner of her eyes, but she wiped them away desperately.

“You forgot me, so I’ll forget you in return.” She turned towards the door, grabbing the knob firmly. Despite her desperate need to get out of the room, her hand trembled and shook, refusing to turn the knob.

“I’ll...” A small sob wracked her body. “Find someone else...”

---

Contrary to what her heart truly desired, she refused to see you. She forced herself to cut off all emotional ties to you—after all, you didn’t even know her. It was painful to even speak to you. Somehow, the loss had felt like you truly had died in the explosion. Sure, you were physically here, but all that was you was gone.

It was Armin who finally brought her out of her depressed slump. He saw the state of her after weeks of staying huddled up in her room. It was so unlike Annie. Her room was a mess, and so was she. Her hair was unkempt and unbrushed, and she hadn’t even showered at all. Clothes lay scattered across the room, and the trash can in the corner of the room had started overflowing.

It wasn’t a pleasing sight, but he couldn’t blame her.

He had offered to meet him at a local café to talk—albeit, after she showered. She hesitantly agreed, and went into the bathroom to get ready. While she showered, Armin absentmindedly picked up some of the scattered clothing, putting it in it’s proper place, and even emptied the trash can for her.

He saw the slight shock in her eyes when she came out, surprised, but internally grateful for his help. She didn’t show it verbally, but she gave a thankful nod, and he understood.

---

Armin brought the cup to his lips, the steam flowing from the cup blocking his face as he sipped his tea silently, and Annie took another bite of her glazed donut.

“So, Annie.” He turned to face her, setting his cup down. “I wanted to talk to you about something.”

She sighed internally. Nothing yet had been spoken, but she knew it was about you. Her silence beckoned him to continue.

“I... No, we all noticed how you’ve been recently, and we understand it. Who knows what you’re feeling right now...” His sympathy went mostly unappreciated. She really didn’t want to be reminded of the depressive state she had fallen into.

“It’s completely up to you, but... we think it would be better for you if you decided to talk to her again.” Armin didn’t need to say who this ‘her’ was. Annie already knew.

She raised an eyebrow and considered his statement for a fleeting moment, but regained her stance. She wasn’t going to talk to you. No convincing from her friends would change that.

“See, the thing is, Y/N has been discharged.” He spoke, bringing the cup back to his face to preemptively fill the silence he anticipated.

No amount of emotional cover-up could hide the shocked look on her face. Part of her was ecstatic, deep down. She was glad you were well enough to leave. But, the other part reminded her that associating with you would only bring her more hurt.

“But, there isn’t really going to be any recovering from what she experienced, unfortunately.” He brought the cup back down onto the table, now empty of all it’s liquid. “So, the doctor advised that she be under careful supervision from someone at all times.”

Annie wasn’t stupid. She knew where this was going.

“So,” he huffed a breath of heavy air, “We decided that if anyone was going to take her in, it should be you, Annie. We want to take her back to live with you.” She could feel her jaw slack at the proposal, and a full-fledged war had just started in her mind. She registered he was still speaking, but was too conflicted to listen.

Once again, part of her mind was desperately trying to reach you. To take you in and care for you, and to ensure you have a safe and comfortable recovery with her. She could restart with you, and make new memories with you, and everyone else.

But she understand it would be painful. Unbearable, even. She might as well be taking care of a stranger. You didn’t act like Y/n, you didn’t look like Y/n, hell, you hardly even knew who Y/n was at this point. It would just hurt her even more, all she needed to do was get away from you—!

“Annie...!” Armin spoke firmly, slightly leaned over the table as if he had been prying for her attention for a while now. He reached across the table to grab her hand, causing her to gasp. His hand was warm. It reminded her of you.

“I know what you’re thinking.” His voice was soothing and inviting, and she was reminded once again of what great friends she had made in the 104th.

“You think it’s gonna hurt, and it will, I’m sure. I understand too. She doesn’t quite act like she did before, we all noticed. It’s...” He paused, leaning back in his chair and looking to the side. It had hurt him, too. “Strange. To see a friend like this.”

He leaned forward, pulling his hand away to place it back on the table. “But you have to do something! Separating yourself from someone you care about so deeply isn’t good for you.” He brought his head up slightly, staring daggers into her eyes. “And don’t lie to me. I know you still care about her. You wouldn’t be so conflicted if you didn’t.”

Tears pricked at her eyes once again. She didn’t want to get emotional, and certainly not here of all places. But she knew he was telling the truth. She still cared, and it wasn’t good for her to ignore you.

“Besides,” He stood up, turning to leave. “She misses you too, Annie.”

---

She made up her mind that day. She was gonna bring you back home.

It wasn’t easy. Both the emotional aspect, but also cleaning up her filthy room in such a short span of time. Still, she prepped it perfectly for your arrival. She cleaned up the room, organized her things, made the bed, and even bought a second pillow—surely, you two couldn’t share just the one.

Picking you up from the hospital was bittersweet. You managed to stay standing, although only with the help of a wooden cane. Your hand gripped the handle tightly, and you leaned a large portion of your body weight on it, just to not fall over.

You had changed out of the raggedy hospital clothes, finally getting to wear something comfortable after so long, but even with the cloth, the purplish-redish burn scars coated much of your body. It reached from the very fingertips of your right hand, all the way up your neck and part of your face.

Still, you smiled weakly and brought your hand up to wave at her.

She approached you hesitantly, but as soon as you tried to stumble over to her, she rushed up to support you with an arm around your shoulder.

“Easy, now.” She muttered. “You should be careful.”

“Right,” You chuckled nervously. “Sorry.” You breathed out a sigh of relief, having seen the outside for the first time in weeks. It didn’t stop the stone walls from towering forebodingly over you, though, but you felt at least some freedom.

“Where are we headed?” You sighed, and started walking. Annie guided you for the most part, but you managed to get your injured legs to cooperate, somewhat. You hand trembled as it gripped the cane, and even step on uneven ground caused you to stumble, but Annie’s grip kept you upright.

“We’re going...” She hesitated. “Home.”

---

Early morning birds chirped their greetings through the open windows, and the sun shone rays of dawn down from the sky. A typical wake-up call to her.

That, and your snoring.

She opened her eyes and stretched, easing up the tension in her muscles, which had laid painfully dormant for the past eight hours. Yawning and rubbing the sleep from her eyes, her attention shifted to the mass attached to her side.

Your arms were wrapped tightly around her torso, and your head was buried in her chest. Despite having lived with you for a few weeks now, she hadn’t gotten used to the change. In the past, neither of you really cuddled in your sleep. You gave sweet goodnights and passed out on opposite sides of the bed just like that.

It was a welcome change, though, and seeing you tucked so comfortably into her side brought a smile and blush to her face. She ran a hand through your messy h/c hair, smiling softly as you stirred in response to the affection.

“...Mm?” You let out a groggy noise, having been woken up a little earlier than you were used to. Annie was always the morning person in the relationship.

“Good morning.” She cooed, removing her hand to sit up and get out of bed. Once she tried to stand, though, she felt a frail hand tug at her wrist. You grip was weak as a result of your injuries, and she could very easily wiggle out if she wanted to, but she faltered.

“C’mon...” You muttered, face down in the blankets, still halfway asleep. “Can’t you stay a little longer?”

Annie huffed in defeat, climbing back into the bed and shuffling back under the cotton sheets. You were back at her side in an instant, and she smiled once again. Even after everything, you were still just as cute as always when you were sleepy.

“We can’t stay like this for very long, you know.” She sighed, placing a warm, calloused hand on your back.

You groaned in annoyance at that. “Why’s that?”

“Armin and the others invited us out to get lunch. It’s been a while since the Survey Corps has had a day off.” She looked to the side before muttering quietly. “I also have to go to work with the military police... I’ve used up all my paid leave.”

“Oh... yeah, we should probably get ready.” Contrary to your tone, you were actually quite happy. Annie had been quite a bit overprotective of you since your injury, so you hadn’t gotten the chance to get out much. You couldn’t blame her much, though. You could hardly walk, eat, or do just about anything without assistance. You were glad she took good care of you, but it got a little overbearing sometimes.

“Let’s get up, then.” She said, slinking out of bed. You watched wordlessly as she slipped out of her night clothes into something more presentable, sliding her shirt over her head effortlessly. You couldn’t help but blush as your eyes trailed down her toned stomach.

She looked back at you with an unamused expression as she slid on a plain white shirt. “You shouldn’t stare, Y/n.”

“R-Right.” You looked away flustered. You had only technically known her a few weeks now, but man were you lucky.

Annie’s warm hand enveloping your own brought you back into reality, and you accepted her help wordlessly as you got out of bed.

She helped you out of your clothes and handed you something nice to put on for the day. It was a comfortable ritual the two of you got into, helping you get dressed in the morning.

She sat you down in one of the chair’s in her room, ordering you to stay put while she went to the military police mess hall to pick up breakfast for the two of you.

She came back into the room only a few minutes later, carrying two trays of food, and sat them down in front of both of you. It was a boring meal, typical of any military ration, but you didn’t complain.

“So, Annie,” She looked up from her food, still digging her fork into the baked potato on her plate. “Tell me a story.”

She smiled longingly, staying silent for a moment as she recollected her memories for a good story to tell. Ever since you lost your memory and started staying with Annie, you often spent mealtimes getting her to tell stories about you, her, and your other friends. About what happened in the 104th, and the Survey Corps, and sometimes, you’d ask Annie about her childhood and time before the military. She seemed very hesitant about the last one, but she still told you bits and pieces. You could easily infer that she didn’t have a very pleasant childhood, so you didn’t push the subject.

“Well,” Annie finally spoke, swallowing a gulp of water from her glass, having seemingly found a story she felt like telling. “One time, in the 104th, Sasha had managed to convince you to steal food from the pantry with her.”

You listened intently as she continued recounting the events, a sad smile on her face. “So you and her snuck in late at night, but Shadis heard both of you because of how loud Sasha was. So then, you two had no where to go but a tiny cramped pantry in the kitchen, and then—”

*CRASH*

You sat there like a deer in headlights as the glass shattered into hundreds of transparent shards on the floor, startling Annie out of her nostalgic trance.

“Y/n!” She exclaimed, standing up from her seat swiftly. She spotted the broken glass, mixed with the water it had held, and looked back at you. Once she pieced it together, she facepalmed.

“Y/n...” She sighed. “How many times do I have to tell you to not to try and pick up things right now...”

“Sorry,” You muttered. “I just wanted to see...”

Despite the severity of your injuries, you were quite stubborn. No matter how much Annie insisted that you not hold things in your state, you did so anyway. It seldom worked, since, like now, you always dropped it within seconds.

“It’s... It’s fine,” She sighed, leaning down to carefully pick up the larger fragments of glass. Once she got the larger pieces, she dumped them in the trash and knelt down in front of your chair on one knee, grabbing your hand in her own. “But you need to remember, your injuries haven’t healed yet. Nowhere close. I know you hate it, but you need to let your body rest.”

You nodded sorrowfully. Yet, despite how much you promised, you knew you’d never really stop trying to push your body. Even if your skin was scarred, and hands were shaky, and the muscles of your legs atrophied and partially-paralyzed, you would never stop trying to live a normal life.

Annie had finished sweeping up the smaller shards of glass in the dustpan, and dumped it into the trash can, before returning to the table.

Silently, she grabbed her glass, still half filled with water, and brought it up to your lips. When you had first started living with Annie, you were a little embarrassed about having to be fed like this, but you had long since gotten used to it.

Once the glass was empty, she sat it down on the tabletop once again, and checked the time.

“Shit, we should get going, it’s nearly time.” She sighs, grabbing your cane from it’s spot leaning against the wall and handing it to you. You thank her and, with her help, stand up from your spot. Her arm slinks around your waist, allowing you to lean half of your body weight on the cane and the other half on Annie.

As you made your way out of the building and down the street towards the restaurant, you finally broke the silence.

“Annie?” You asked, quietly. There was an uncharacteristic sadness to your voice.

“Yes, darling?” She inquired, keeping her eyes glued on the trail in front of you.

“How come you still take care of me? Even after the accident, you still stick with me. Why is that?”

Annie chuckles dryly. She doesn’t want to tell you that it’s still a sore subject for her, so she answers honestly.

“It wasn’t so black and white, really. It was pretty upsetting to see someone I loved so much not even recognize me at all.” Her eyes bore into the pavement below her feet. “No offense, of course.”

“None taken.”

“But a friend of mine talked to me about it. And I realized there would be no point in running from it. I decided that if you didn’t know me, I would make you fall in love with me all over again. Plus,” She looked to the side, a faint red blush on her cheeks. “I didn’t want you to feel lonely...”

You giggled at her embarrassment, opening your mouth to say something, but she cut you off quickly.

“We’re here.” She stopped in front of the doors, and you easily spotted Mikasa, Armin, and Jean already sitting inside at one of the tables, exchanging lighthearted banter.

“Hey Annie.”

“Hm?” She turned the knob of the door, stepping foot into the bustling room.

“Thanks for taking care of me.” You sighed, a small smile gracing your lips.

“Of course.” She smiled in return. “I’ll always be here for you.”

“Oi!” Jean shouted from across the room, and Armin immediately tried to shush his yelling, but he wasn’t phased. “Annie, Y/n, hurry up!”

You and Annie giggle at his boisterous attitude, walking over to find your seats.

“It’s been a while since we’ve seen you, Y/N.” Mikasa smiled warmly, tucking her scarf around her neck.

You smile at the three of them, looking so happy and peaceful. You’ve missed it.

“Yeah,” You laugh. “So, what did I miss?”

This feels badly written but I can’t place it, I dunno.

Probably ‘cause I wrote the first half like a month ago and only finished it today lol.

And no I totally didn’t reference someone else’s fic in this haha nope

[writting-thingz]

Request:Could I request something angsts and fluffy for Benimaru from fire force? I’m sorry I can’t give anymore detail- my mind is literally blank 😬😂

Pairing: Reader x Benimaru

Summary: You found out your younger brother is turning innocent people into infernos and use them as his army. It seems all your worst fears are coming true as you run to your closest friend and love your life for help. Can Benimaru ever forgive you for not seeing the true nature of your brother?

Warnings: ANGST… intrusive thoughts, fluff if you really squint

Forgive Me

       Once again you find yourself arguing with your younger brother. The same old song and dance since you found out what he had been occupying his time with behind your back. He seemed more agitated today.

“You’re just too naive to understand Y/n. This is for the greater good of science, of the world!!” He exclaims whilst pacing in front of his ‘throne ’.

“Killing innocents by turning them into infernos and trying to use them as your puppets!? You call THAT 'For the greater good’? What about all those people you sacrificed, HUH?!?” You cried with shaking clenched fists. Your brother shoots you an icey spine chilling glare which you mirror right back at him. “Those people are innocent! You ruined their life’s for your personal entertainment!!! You’re a horrible person, you’re a mon-” in a blink of an eye you brother is behind you. You can feel the edge of his knife pressing hard against you throat; it was almost enough to draw blood.

“Finish that word and I’ll make sure it’s your last.” He snarled. Heavy, blood-thirsty breaths blow past your ear as he spoke, “Everyone has their sins, Y/n, even the most innocent ones. Think of it as a final repent for all the wrong and evil they have done. We all have to pay for our deeds one day; I’m just being a good Samaritan and helping. Keep of this act of yours and you’ll be next.” Having finally had enough of this you grab a hold of his wrist and pull it away from your neck. You maneuvers the situation around so you’re pinning his wrist behind his back and holding his dagger to his throat. He waits patiently knowing you’ll give up. You huff and whisper angrily

“you’re sick!” You chuck the dagger at the ground and storm off. As you leave you could hear his chuckle gradually turn into maniacal and hysterical laughter.

      The wall to town was hardly quiet. The closer you came to town the louder the world seemed to be. His haunting laugh echoed as the intrusive thoughts that crowded you mind grew louder. They started low but now it was as if they were screaming.

’You let him slip through you fingers’

’You failed to notice what your little brother truly was and now the world will suffer because you!’

’What? Now you're  going to run away? Run to HIM? Are you going to tattle on your own flesh and blood?’

’You don’t think you’re actually doing the right thing do you? Sell out your little brother to a fire force soldier? Oh that’s right you don’t love your sibling he’s just monster to you.’

’What makes you think Benimaru is going to love you after you tell him the truth?’

’He’ll think you’re brother is a monster and you are too by connection’

’You’re a monster’

’He’ll try to exterminate your brother and fail then world will suffer and it will be all your fault’

’You’re a monster, it’s all your fault’

’Its all your fault, it’s all your fault, it’s all your fault’

’Monster’

’IT’S’

’ALL’

’YOUR'

’FAULT!’

“ShuuuuuUUUUUUT UUUUUPPP!” You scream as you clutch your head. You scratch your scalp as you grip your hair. “Shut up, shut up, shut up, SHUT! UP!” You shake your head as you cry out.

      A pair of screams pull you out of your head. You weren’t aware that surrounding you was total mayhem and destruction, let alone that you had made it into town. Inferno were everywhere you looked.

'What.. what’s going on?’ Your eyes widen and start to tear up.

’Oh don’t play dumb, you know who’s behind this’ the sinister thought surprised you.

“Y/NNNNN” A familiar voice calls out, no, bellows out. You just barely feel the wind blowing past your as a flaming spear skims past your cheek.

“B-Beni?” You hesitate in disbelief of the sight before you. Was the man you love axtuslly barreling towards you with ill intent? Having to dodge another flaming spear and being hit in the shoulder by a second on brought forth the harsh reality. Your heart twists and turns creating knots as you clutch your shoulder. Benimaru, the love of your life, lands a few feet ahead of you.

“How could you do this? I thought you wanted a better world for your brother!? Is this seriously how you thought you were going to get it?” He tells.  The dust from his landing settles as he interrogates you. You can see tears roll down his cheeks,  “Y/n… I have a hard time believing you did this. Tell me- …tell me it isn’t true.” The wavering tone of his voice causes a hitch in your breath and a twang of pain to hit your heart.

“I-I-” before you could explain an inferno busts through a building beside Beni. You sprint to push him out of the way of the debris. As you make your way to him you grab some nearby rubble and chuck it at the raging inferno. You chuck it as hard and with as much fire power as you could in those few seconds.

      You cough harshly as pain races throughout your body. The pain didn’t matter to you, what matters is you saved Benimaru. After getting back up he scrambles by your side. He sends a few spears into the inferno finishing it off.

“Y/n! Hey, look at me. This isn’t the time or place to be snoozing.” He pats the side of your face and your eyes flutter open.

“Beni… I know auh.. I know we aren’t amazing close as friends but I love you. I have for a while I was afraid you wouldn’t feel the same heh heh, augh…” you admit grunting from the pain occasionally. “You have to believe I would never want harm to come to you or this town. But this is my fault. Augh-” your confession is interrupted by sudden coughs. “I-.. I wasn’t a good enough older sibbling. I had no idea he was capable of something like this ack- I promise, if you give me a chance I’ll be good. I’ll work to be better and change him, I promise Beni. Please just let me talk to him. I promise I’ll help make him better, ill be good. I’ll be good… I’ll… be.. good.” A heavy weight hits your eyes as you cry your confession and plea. Although it’s fuzzy and just barely a whisper, you still manage to hear him,

“I believe you Y/n. Rest, I’ll take care of your little brother.”

*four days later*

      You had woken two days after passing out. Konro breached the news of your brother passing away during a battle against a few fire soldiers and Beni who tried to intervene when he found them. Benimaru has yet to visit you while you are recovering. You feared those awful thoughts of yours were right; that  because he knows the truth he hates you. Desperately wanting to focus on something happy you convince the medics to allow you a walk. A calming stream beside you as you remember all the times you spent there with Benimaru. The few laughs you had together, and practices you begged for to better your fire power and fighting skills. You smiled watching the ghost of a memory play out before you.

“I thought I would find you here…” Bittersweet was the feeling that hit you when your heard his voice. “I’m sorry I didn’t visit.. I was too ashamed to face you after failing to take care of you brother…” he confesses. You stop walking but don’t dare look at him, How could you? He lets out a deep breath before speaking again, “I know that I hurt you. I know that nothing I can say will change the past. But…I’m hoping that you’ll forgive me in the end. I’m hoping that I can make this right.” Tears quickly swell up in your eyes. You spin around and make eye contact with him. After a few seconds you couldn’t bare it any longer and you run at him with your arms outstretched. The two of you tumble to the ground with your arms wrapped tightly around him.

“I forgive you, just please don’t leave me… I can’t loose both things I love.” You pleaded as he sat up. He cradles you into his arms as you sob. Slowly you cry your self to sleep with you face buried in his chest. Beni places a gentle kiss on your forehead and whispers,

“I won't… I love you Y/n”

~The End~

[captain039]

Don’t let me go

The huntsman x reader

(Snow White and the huntsman, Chris Hemsworth)

Warnings: Gore, ABO, light swearing, magic things, light angst, idk

You stared at the world around, the voices screeching in your ear, telling you what to do, who you should be. The ground was cold and wet under you, your back soaked in mud and the rain pouring down on you. You struggled the breath, struggled to move so they didn't catch you. Why’d she want you dead? The queen doesn’t know you, doesn’t know anything about you and suddenly it’s your death or nothing. You didn’t know you could run that fast, being mere miles away from the dark forest had its benefit of nobody venturing into your small town, yet the queen was so angry she sent her brother after you. Unsure of what you did you fled, trying to save your family and village.

You eyes had gone blurry, the trees moved to you with their pointy branches, the sky was so grey and groggy it made you sick.

You closed your eyes savoured the earth under you as it might be the last you ever feel it.

Your body jolted though, you were being moved you figured this was the end till warmth spread through you.

“Come on” you heard a voice, deep and soothing almost despite its grunting.

“Wake up!” You heard a more feminine voice this time and frowned seeing a figure to your left. You stumbled in the persons arms, gained your feet and ran with them.

You neared the edge of the forest, your mind still fuzzed, a huntsman by the looks and a young woman, you didn’t know who she was.

“We mean you no harm” the young woman spoke and you frowned lifting your head seeing women in boats, you hadn’t even noticed them.

“What’s wrong with her?” They asked and you frowned.

“She’s been exposed, it’ll pass” the man spoke by your side and you frowned at him.

“Exposed?” You said almost drunken like.

“Get in” the woman said as you were led into the boat.

You awoke, warm and dry on a bed with a sheet over you. You opened your eyes slowly it was dark out, the only light from the flames by the fire.

“Ah there you are” you groaned sitting up as a woman helped you.

“Easy now dear” she said her voice kind.

“What happened?” You mumbled mind rushing back.

“You passed out in the boat” she said and you nodded rubbing your eyes.

“Why- why did the queen want me?” You whispered shifting so your feet hit the floor. You stood and stumbled but the woman sat you back down hushing you gently.

“My mother’s dead! My brother- I” you shook eyes blurring with tears.

“It’s alright child” she pulled you close, she held you, her scent that of an aged beta, calming.

“You’re awake” you frowned looking to the huts door and seeing the young woman.

“Thank you for helping me” you said wiping your eyes quickly and pulling away from the woman.

“The queen wants you too” she walked in and stood by you.

“Why she want you?” You asked, she didn’t look like anything special, beautiful sure, but just an ordinary girl.

“I’m the kings daughter” you froze at her words.

“Princess?” You muttered and she nodded.

“Why did she want you?” She asked and you shrugged.

“I don’t know” you mumbled.

“You’re special” the woman beside you spoke and you looked to her.

“How?” You said confused.

“You’re an omega” you frowned at her words that wasn’t uncommon?

“There’s omegas everywhere” you sighed thinking she was just suddenly insane.

“No there’s not” you stared at her confused.

“The queen executed them, your homes by the dark forest yes?” She asked and you nodded.

“She won’t go near that place, she has no power there” you tried to process, you really did.

“I left the village to get a cow from the market, I disguised myself as my brother” you muttered. Your brother was ill, you’ve been acting like him from time to time when going out, safer to travel.

“Someone would’ve caught you” she whispered and you clenched your fist, nails digging into your palm.

“Damn it” you said eyes watering again as you realised the whole fate of your village laid on your shoulders, they were dead, you watched the flames as you ran, the slaughter.

“The huntsman was after me, he had a change of heart before he found you” the princess spoke.

“A change of heart?” You almost scoffed.

“He’s a huntsman” you said.

“They don’t have hearts” you stared at the fire, memories flooding back.

You laughed while your brother chased you around the village, the older ones laughing as you both caused a ruckus.

“Y/n! Oliver!” You turned to your mother’s call and laughed as you both ran over trying to trip each other.

“Ah goodness ya both a mess” she sighed as you heard a horse approaching. Your mother looked up her eyes wide with tears in it. You looked too your heart pounding at the sight of your father.

“Daddy!” Your brother called running to him as he dismounted and embraced your brother tightly.

“Little Olly” he said as you walked to them.

“My little princess” he whispered cupping your cheek.

“Come here” he said softly and you wrapped your little arms around his neck.

“I missed you both” he whispered as he let you down and embraced your mother.

“They’ve grown” he chuckled to your mother who nodded with tears in her eyes.

“Look at you!” He knelt back down cupping your cheeks.

“Bigger than your brother” he chuckled as Oliver pouted.

“You’ll be a big man one day son don’t you worry” your father pet his cheek with a big smile. Time froze though as he jolted, an arrow through his heart. Screams rang out and the slaughter began. You were carried, torn away as you watched your father die. You were hidden away before it all stopped. Your mother bloodied but alive as she held you both close.

“Never trust a huntsman” she whispered.

“Men like him have no heart nor will they” you said.

“You-“ the princess began to speak but the loud cry tore all your gazes outside.

“Quickly!” The woman grabbed you both and ran out the back, the huts ablaze with fire and the queens men tearing the village down.

“Come now!” The women herded you out the back, through the water and to the boats.

“Huntsman!” The princess said as you saw him coming through the tall grass.

“Go!” The woman cried pushing you towards him.

“Wait-“ you said as she shook her head.

“Go now!” You tan with them both through the tall grass.

You ran for ages it felt like, your small rest reminding you of how exhausted you truely are.

“I can’t-“ you collapsed legs aching, chest burning. You laid on the grass, took in deep gulps of air trying to sooth the burn.

The princess and the huntsman stopped, the princess panting the and huntsman by your side.

“Go away” you said flinching as he went to touch you. He frowned at your words his blue eyes saddened.

“We need to keep moving” he said as you felt your heart finally slow down.

“She’s exhausted” the princess said coming to your side.

“Give me a minute” you mumbled as she handed you a canteen. You sighed drinking the water in it. You sat up slowly before nodding.

You moved for till the morning came, you were tired, legs trembling at each step, you weren’t use to running away. You froze though when something went around your foot and you were all hoisted up. Your back hit the huntsman sand you grunted as you tried to gain awareness.

“Beith” the huntsman sighed as you frowned seeing dwarfs around you.

“Ah Huntsman!” A dwarf said.

“Fancy seeing you out here” he added as you looked around but not spotting the one who spoke.

“You got two pretty little things by your side now huh?” You glared at the dwarf in front of you despite him not being the one who spoke.

“I think she might kill us” the dwarf said as you grunted and squirmed.

“Stop moving omega it’s no use” the huntsman sighed as you struggled.

“Cut us down Beith” he added.

“Do it” you heard another dwarf.

“It’s the princess” he added and you glanced to the princess.

“I have seen it” he muttered.

“Argh cut them down” you assumed Beith said as you landed on the ground harshly, your neck cramping along the way.

“Piss off!” You snapped as a dwarf came over.

“Alright!” He said hands up. You scrambled with your ropes before standing on your feet.

“She’s the one” you frowned looking to the princess who knelt in front of a blind dwarf.

“The darkness will end” he added smiling.

You traveled with the dwarves to the sanctuary, a place you’d never seen, fairies and little critters running around the lush grass. You smiled at the little rabbits running about, fluffy coats and little tails.

Night fell and you finally had a chance to lie down, Snow danced with Gus while the others sang. You had your back to the fire, holding the blanket close as tears silently fell from your eyes. Caught up in this mess for being an omega, your brother was one too, though he grew ill. Thinking back to everything you realise you were the only two, your mother coated your scents every day and night, she always told you, you needed to be careful around everyone, be on you guard.

You flinched when someone covered you with something.

“I’m not going to hurt you” you stared at the huntsman as he held a fur up.

“You were shaking” he said softly lying the pelt down over you.

“What’s it to you” you snapped with a hush voice.

“I don’t know what you think I am, but it isn’t right” he said and you glared.

“You’re a heartless man with an axe” you snapped.

“Monsters” you mumbled as you watched the hurt flash again. He sighed and sat back down, you kept your back turned as you tried to ignore the feeling in your stomach.

You watched your father die again, slowly, the arrow through him then an axe in his head, tearing his soul away as he fell. The Huntsman tore through your village, tore everything up before they left with their small victory. You cried violently over your fathers dead body, blood tears running down his eyes.

“Wake up!” You frowned as somebody shook you a voice echoing.

“Wake up! You shot up your dagger close as you looked around panting.

“Easy” you held your knife towards the huntsman as he held his hands up.

“You were crying out in your sleep” he said and you gulped. You had a layer of sweat covering your body, tears in your eyes. You lifted yourself and headed to the first ignoring his calls.

You pushed past trees and darkness before you fell to your knees and cried. You didn’t hold it back, didn’t silence it, you cried and cried till tears became streams. You heard someone approaching, cursed them as you knew who it was.

“Go away!” You cried turning to him.

“Leave me alone” you whispered as you felt him wrap his arms around you. You sobbed softly hesitant and struggling before leaning back into the embrace.

“Just let it out” he whispered as you cried softly. You held the arm around your shoulders, gripping his flesh.

Your tears dried and he sat back and made you sit back with him. You laid back against his chest looking at his boots outstretched besides you. His arms rested around your waist so you couldn’t leave, you stared at the moon in numb exhaustion.

“My father came home from a merchant trade” you began softly.

“I was five, my brother was four, he came off his horse and told us how big we had grown, embraced us before an arrow went through his heart and an axe in his head” you felt him tense behind you and you swallowed a lump in your throat.

“Huntsman had come through to kill our village leader and claim it as their own for their queen, they slaughtered and burned my village before leaving after their message had been heard that the village was owned” his grip tightened a little as you stopped.

“The queen was clouded by grief, she raised an army of children into Huntsman, she had one rule, to never love” he said.

“I fell in love, it cost me her life and others, so I escaped” his voice croaked a little and you held one hand over his.

“We were reckless ready to escape, but she died and I was sent out with grief of my own” you kept looking at the moon as he spoke, he was warm against you, comforting in a way you didn’t want.

“She wasn’t mine though, maybe we were desperate to feel something, it wasn’t the same feeling as- as this” he spoke softly and your heart raced in your ears as he spoke, you felt it too.

“What is this? I don’t know you” you said broken.

“I don’t know what this is, but I won’t let it go” he said as you felt a single tear drop.

“I won’t let you go” he muttered.