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bontenten · 3 years

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Bewitch

Pairings: Osamu x F!Reader x Atsumu; Miyacest WC: 7.4k Genre/Warnings: smut, fairytale retelling (Hansel and Gretel), magic au, dubcon/noncon, incest (miyacest), fear, knife, monster, bondage, snuff, vore, gore/blood, object insertion, body horror, a bit of size, tummy bulge, oral (m.receiving), anal (m. receiving), masturbation (f. & m.), voyeurism, arson...

Summary: The unexpected guests at your cottage have a mysterious past and hidden agenda. Will they allow you to accompany them on their journey?

Travelers are advised not to spend the night in the Dark Woods. It's said that beyond the last hiking trail, past a brook, lives an Evil Witch. That witch is vile and merciless; often, fools lost in the woods are never seen again. It's said that she must be over 800 years old, feeding off of the essences of children and young men unfortunate enough to cross her paths. It’s said that she even eats fellow witches. No one really knows. After all, no one who has seen her has lived to tell the tale.

It's been a few months since your teacher has left you to fend for yourself here in the woods—your first time alone during this apprenticeship. She said she had to attend a big conference with a whole bunch of other grand witches. You asked if you could tag along, but she insisted that you stay and watch the cottage. The lack of company is about to drive you insane so you often resort to conversing with yourself or the forest itself.

The soft moss muffles the sound of your footsteps as you begin the trek back home, a faint off-trail path away from the main road that no one else would usually notice. On any other day, you would just go home without a fuss, but loneliness makes people do some bizarre and odd things. For instance, the desperate longing for companionship leads to you dropping a not-so-hidden trail of fancy pebbles to inadvertently lead someone to your abode.

For most travelers, going off-trail is akin to a death sentence as any wrong turn might lure them into the forest's deadly maze. Not for you though, you know this place very well: every fallen tree, overturned log, the wanted signs nailed to the trunk...

Wait. A wanted sign?

You can make out from your distance that there are two heads on it, but the details are fuzzy, and the bounty looks smudged. Before you can get a closer look, you hear the birds caw in the trees, signaling the beginning of sunset. You pull your attention away from the poster and continue on to your way home.

The cottage is extremely cozy and warm. The windows are bejeweled and the door is solid wood. You live here comfortably with your teacher, after all, learning about the principles of magic and what it means to be a witch. It's much more than curses and spells, as your teacher would tell you, witches have character and a moral compass. Although there are certainly those who decide to experiment with the darker arts.

While you get a fire going in the huge furnace and boil some water on the stovetop, you hear two voices squabbling outside followed by three raps on the door. You're stunned by the noise, turning to face the shut door wondering if you were just dreaming about the noise. Is it? Visitors? No, you must have heard wrong.

"'Samu, I bet it's a farce, let's not." The voice sounds both tired and weary, almost out of breath.

"Let me just try again, I can smell a working kitchen in there, someone is definitely there," another voice insists. Three more knocking sounds. "Excuse me! Is the owner of the house available? My brother and I followed a path of colored stone and came upon your establishment...could you spare us some water? A bite of food?"

Two men, though they sound friendly. You're frozen in the kitchen, staring at the door that remains between you and the strangers.

"Is there someone home?" The second voice tries again. "Please, my brother is not feeling very well."

Your initial wariness for the stranger melts when you hear about the brother, which does not sound like a lie based on the raspy voice you first hear. A witch's character is fundamentally kind to all sentient beings, especially those in need. But you're still nervous, so you end up grabbing a metal ladle before carefully going to open the door. When you crack the door open, you see a pair of twins. Beautiful men, one blonde and one grey-haired. The former, with a quirky grin, although his eyes certainly look lackluster. But the other seems like he's at the right place, eyes peering past you into your home, fixated on your kitchen.

"I'm Osamu. And this," he gestures to his twin, "is my brother Atsumu. We're a bit lost, you see."

You nod your head in a casual greeting and introduce yourself as the resident apprentice at this cottage. As a good host should, you open the door to the weary guests preparing to welcome them in.

"Are we welcomed in?" Osamu asks, not moving from his spot. Atsumu isn’t budging either, arms crossed and only looking at you from the corner of his eye, waiting for your answer.

Without giving much thought you nod and open the door wider. "Both of you are most welcomed in."

"Then we thank you for your hospitality," Osamu says, taking a step inside, dragging his twin with him.

Words, especially spoken words carry power and hold intent. And a witch's words, no matter how careless they slip out, contain magic. Welcome, as you say. So welcome, they are.

You shut the door behind them and prepare to go give your first-ever guests some water. When you turn around, you notice Osamu already in the kitchen, the sleeves of his tunic rolled up past his elbows.

"Your food is about to burn. Heat's too high," he tells you, expertly taking control of the sizzling pots and pans. "I got it, don't worry."

Feeling flustered at the faint smell of scorching food, you hurry over to see if you can be of any assistance. "Let me help out."

"No, it's quite alright."

How can a host let her guests do all the work like that? And the first company in a while too! What an utter failure.

"How—" you try to argue back, but you're cut off by Atsumu tugging on your wrist, dragging you over to the sofa in the corner.

"Don't worry about him, he loves to cook." Atsumu brushes out the wisps of his bangs with a huff. "And actually quite good at it. Anything that goes through his hands...well, in short, all become part of his design."

Like his twin, Atsumu's frame is broad and huge, but there is a quality of emptiness of sorts. Osamu's shoulders are wide but there's more substance to it, whereas Atsumu's form seems contained. You can't help but use your learnings to see if you can figure out just what's off about Atsumu. He's slowly walking around the living room and studying the portraits hanging on the wall. He picks up a frame that is set above the fireplace and comments, "None of these are you. How come?"

"Oh, they're my teacher. I'm just a witch-in-training at the moment, so—"

"A witch?" Atsumu questions, clenching the frame tightly. His hands begin to shake, the glass under his thumb beginning to crack.

You did not expect Atsumu to display such a visceral reaction upon the mention of witches. After all, witches normally stayed far away from ordinary human society and when they do mix, it's often a role of healing. But the look that sparks in Atsumu's eyes, it's almost—feral.

"'Tsumu!" Osamu yells while stalking over quickly from the kitchen. He throws his arm around Atsumu's neck and drags him off into the shadows. You can't make out the muffled voices and deep growling noises that are coming from down the hall.

It's their private matter, so you go back to the kitchen. True enough, Osamu's hands are almost like magic. The bubbling pot of broth doesn't seem to be on the verge of overflowing, the onions caramelizing beautifully, filling the air with deliciousness.

Moments later, the twins come back. You notice that Osamu clothes are wrinkled from tugging Atsumu around, but at the very least, Atsumu is looking much better than before.

The three of you set the table for dinner. Osamu brings out the plates as though he knows the kitchen inside and out already. Atsumu comes emerging from the cellar with two bottles of fine wine that you didn't even know your teacher had stowed away. Surely, she wouldn't mind? With Osamu and Atsumu sitting to the left and right of you at the round table, it almost feels like a more familiar, cozier gathering between friends than a situation of a host and her guests.

They tell you that they have been traveling across the lands for a long time now, looking for a cure for Atsumu's illness. It reminds you of the hollow, repressed form you saw earlier and your curiosity gets the better of you. They don't tell you the nature of the malady, but what they do share is that they are looking for a witch to undo the curse on Atsumu, a result of dark witchcraft.

"I am a witch!" you exclaim, feeling your call to action at the moment. "Please, is there truly nothing for me to help to undo the spell?"

Osamu leans in close to you, and wipes a bit of sauce staining the corner of your lips with the pad of his thumb. He smiles. "We're looking for a very high-level witch. One day, maybe you'll get to the level of magic needed."

"You're too weak," Atsumu bluntly points out. You're sure Osamu means to say the same thing, but Atsumu's words are really sharp.

"I know," you sigh. "My teacher tells me that all the time. So, I'm really trying. I'm sure there's at least something I can do."

"I definitely think that. Don't be so hard on yourself," Osamu comforts. "Have you been living alone here for a long time?"

You feel two pairs of eyes glued onto you waiting for your answer. You smile reflexively before your eyes trail to the empty plate and carefully choose your words. "Yea. Just me and my teacher. She's a grand witch...maybe if you wait here for a few days, you can meet her when she comes back from her conference."

"We—"

"We'll be gone tomorrow!" Atsumu snaps, staring into Osamu's eyes.

Osamu doesn't pay any mind to Atsumu, and puts an extra piece of dessert onto your plate.

"We have a long way to go. Atsumu's condition isn't getting better, so we can't stop in one place for long."

It makes you a little sad, because you were hoping to spend some more time with the twins, both of whom you have grown fond of. Osamu and his gentleness. And even Atsumu, despite his quick remarks and outbursts, adds a particular spice to your mundane life.

"Maybe we'll bring you with us," Osamu comments lightly, "'Tsumu, wouldn't that be nice?"

"She'll just be dead weight," Atsumu retorts. You wonder if he absolutely hates you. Is that why he is always so against you being next to Osamu?

Osamu puts an arm around you and blows on the shell of your ear. It tickles and you can feel his body enveloping you. "But she's so sweet," he tells Atsumu and whispers into your ear, "Aren't you?"

You find your wandering gaze looking into his half-lidded grey eyes. His face is right next to you, lips just hovering barely five centimeters away. The overwhelming presence of him is undeniably alluring. Your breaths become shallow as your heart rate speeds up with desire.

"I'm exhausted! 'Samu you too. We're going to bed!" Atsumu drops the silverware onto his plate and stands up. He comes around the table, muttering curses under his breath. Atsumu grabs Osamu by the wrist and drags him off towards the guest bedroom you have shown them before.

You didn't quite catch Atsumu's angry mutters, but you hear "slut" and "harlot" thrown around a few times. Were they directed at you? No, you're not like that, you tell yourself. Atsumu must have been thinking that you are trying to seduce his twin. After you clear out the table, you decide to clear up any misunderstanding.

You tip-toe down the hall to the guest bedroom prepared to knock when you hear muffled sounds coming from inside. You carefully press your ears to the crevice of the door and clamp a hand around your mouth upon hearing the stream of moans.

"'Samu, 'Samu please, ah—"

That's Atsumu? Your eyes are wide and still trying to process the shock of what you're hearing. You tell yourself you shouldn't be here. You should not be listening to whatever is happening behind the closed door, but you can't help it. Hearing Atsumu's moans makes you want to squirm.

You slightly jump when you hear a slap, followed with a pleasured groan. The sound is so clean it feels as though the phantom hands are touching your own heated skin.

Osamu's chuckle nearly makes your knees weak.

"Don't get cocky, if it were any other day ngh—, any other day, I would be the one pushing you into the mattress."

Slap. "Shut up, cute 'Tsumu. I like you being so needy for me like this. What do you want from me? Tell me."

"Fuck me, 'Samu."

"With pleasure."

The wood creaks loudly and you tell yourself, you really need to get out as you back away and try to quickly walk down the hall back to your bedroom.

You throw the door open and lock the door behind you with a click. With your eyes closed, you try to steady your breath and the building heat in your core. It's quiet. There's no noise coming from their room. But they are twins!

You remind yourself that a witch is all-accepting and kind. There are so many circumstances beyond your understanding, judgement is not a part of your nature. And if what they are performing is wrong, what should you say about yourself? You peel off your clothes and step out of the soaked panty that is proof of your lust.

Pillows are fluffed and covers are pulled over your body. You try to sleep, but each time you are about to drift, Atsumu's cries of pleasure come back into your head. Your hand trails down your navel until the fingertips trace over your clit. Gathering some slick from your cunt, you drag it across the sensitive bud.

You shudder from the touch as images, constructed in your fantasy, cloud your mind. You imagine Atsumu's hands spreading your legs apart and Osamu's teasing words next to your ear. He would tell you to open wide and shove his cock down your throat. You suck on three of your fingers until lips wrap over the knuckles, your saliva pooling from hunger. And slip your fingers into your cunt easily, curling them against the plush walls.

"F-fuck me," you moan into your pillow.

With pleasure.

You quiver, clit pulsating, and your pussy juice dripping into your palm. The wash from the high soon takes you into sleep. All throughout the night, you squirm and feel the phantom sensation of being watched. Not just observed, but studied, by two pairs of glinting hungry eyes. You can almost imagine them on either side of the bed, trapping you into the mattress no matter which way you turn.

A few times the weird feelings almost pull you awake, but you don't dare crack an eye open to confirm your suspicions until the morning light begins to filter through the windows, rousing you from sleep. The air is filled with fragrant herbs and the sizzle of delicious brunch from someone awake before you.

No doubt, it's Osamu, because who else can it be? Atsumu? Please. The twins....

You climb out of bed and stretch your neck on the way to the washroom. Your bedroom door is open, but it's too early to notice that detail.

"Morning!" Osamu greets you from the kitchen. You find a fresh mug of coffee shoved into your hands from him.

You mumble thanks and sip at the brew while watching Osamu fry the eggs. Osamu looks to be deep in thought, probably thinking about something pleasant from the faint smile ghosting on his face. You feel a pang of guilt from both listening to their private lives, and also the strange feelings that maybe they heard your private life too—it's all your paranoia talking.

"You're so talented," you blurt out, fisting the fabric of your long skirt.

"Thanks, but better not let 'Tsumu hear ya, he gets jealous super easily."

Even if Atsumu hears, it's fine. You really mean both of them. Both of the twins both seem super talented as a duo; like they've been out there and seen the world. Meanwhile, you're still stuck here, without company. Would it be possible...if they simply stayed?

Osamu senses the words that are stuck in your mouth and answers them for you. "We're gonna be leaving right after breakfast. There's still lots of ground to cover today," he explains, plating the pancake before preparing to ladle a spoonful of batter for the next one.

"Do you have to leave?" you ask, almost pleading.

"It's cozy here and comfortable. We enjoy your company too, but we have to go. Your teacher would hate us, immensely, and on top of that...let's just say, we're always on the run."

"You say it like you two are fugitives or something."

Osamu chuckles and leans closer to you, hot breath flaming your cheeks, or maybe it's just the heat from the stove. A teasing grin pulls his cheeks up slightly as your eyes flicker over to see his lips spell out, "Maybe. Scared?"

Embarrassed, you take a defensive step back, squeaking and bumping into another body.

"MORNING!" Atsumu announces behind you. He's in good spirits and he has his hands on your waist to steady you; he sniffs your hair and smiles before letting you go. "I smell something delicious."

"Breakfast is ready," Osamu says, plating the pancakes. "Hungry 'Tsumu?"

"Tch." Atsumu shoves past you and knees Osamu, mood doing a complete 180. You're almost left like a fly on the wall as you watch the scene unfold.

Osamu is quick to catch his balance while keeping watch on the stove. "Not awake yet?" Osamu grins and passes him a plate of pancakes, essentially telling him to shut up and eat. "Who shoved a stick up your ass? Go eat."

"Fuck you."

"Hm."

Atsumu grumbles but digs into his food anyway. Osamu catches your amused expression in the corner and explains, "It's always like that between us. It's our...way of showing how much we care."

"I know." It's sort of endearing, the banter between the two brothers. Even if the world turns against them, no matter what the odds are, at least Miya Osamu will have Miya Atsumu, and Atsumu will have Osamu. Perhaps it's exactly that sort of bond the two share that you're envious of. Body and soul. Because if only you could have just an ounce of that sort of familiarity with another. But you're just an outsider without an invitation to join in.

While you're mulling over your thoughts, you don't catch the darkening gazes being exchanged between the twins. At some point, Atsmu's plate is already emptied and the wooden table is cleared while you're still lost in your mind. Osamu is fiddling with the metal tea strainer, bobbing it up and down to brew a mug of tea. He threads a cotton string in and out like it's a plaything.

"Do you really want to be with us?" Osamu asks nonchalantly. "'Tsumu and I were talking about it. If you do, maybe we can work something out."

"I just..." You feel like this is your final chance to tell them that you don't want them to go. None of the going around circle hinting that you have been doing. This is the moment to just tell it to them. If you miss this chance, you feel like you won't have another. And even though a pit pulls at your inwards telling you to reconsider, you're brave. "I just want to be together with you all, and help you cure Atsumu. My teacher is so talented, I'm sure she'll have a remedy."

They grin.

Osamu is a great cook, he can do that. Atsumu sometimes seems lazy, but he's super strong and quick to help too. And you can pick up all sorts of other tasks in the area! Maybe because they're so helpful, your teacher will even let them stay once Atsumu is cured. Maybe they can learn magic too! You have heard of warlocks who are powerful with spells too. And you can already imagine, the three of you, like a team, eventually going out into the world to fight demons and monsters and—

"Open wide," a sultry voice sounds next to you. Backing away automatically, you find Atsumu standing right behind you.

"W-wait," your voice shakes, stuck in your throat. "What are—"

His fingers reach for your mouth, prying it open. Before you can voice your distaste, a warm, metal ball gets shoved into your mouth, the thin chain quickly tangles into your hair. The faint traces of tea seep out of its small holes down your tongue and throat, while some spill out the corner of your mouth like trails of drool down your jawline.

Osamu smiles and wipes the liquid away with his thumb, relishing in how your widening eyes gape at him in confusion.

"Being together," he answers the question you wanted to ask, "is what you want isn't it?" He takes a spool of kitchen twine and begins to secure the tea strainer in your mouth. The thin cotton threads wrap around your head over and over again, tightening the steel against your tongue.

You shake your head and try to take another step away from the man you're beginning to become wary of, but the strong grip of Atsumu's hands on your shoulder prevents you from squirming at all. His fingers dig into your flesh, and when you turn to look at him you catch a glint in his eyes, glowering down at you.

"No, no, no, behave," he taunts you, "listen to 'Samu. He'll make you feel real good, trust me."

With the gag in your mouth, all you can let out are weak, warbling gargles from the back of your throat. Why are you doing this? You weren't like this before? Loud snorts flare out your nostrils from the fear screaming through your body.

Osamu comes back with a paring knife, examining the edge under the sunlight filtering in through the stained glass. He presses the cool blade along your cheek, dragging with the dull edge just enough so the sharp end doesn't cut your skin. You feel your knees growing weak and if not for Atsumu's hold on you, you would sink into a shuddering heap on the floor.

"You know, I think you might be the best meal yet," Osamu compliments, blade trailing down to your collarbone. The tip of the knife toys with the first button, pressing tension on the x-cross stitching. Snap. The first button pops off, dropping onto the wooden floor and rolling away to an inconspicuous corner. "I'll prep you well."

Snap. Snap. Snap. Snap. The knife flicks again and all the buttons clatter on the floor before running away for refuge.

Atsumu has cleared the table already and you find yourself hoisted up and laid onto the surface like a slab of meat on a cutting board. The cold surface presses against the back of your shoulder and ass. Osamu ties your wrist together with a hemp rope and secures the other end around the table leg. He also secures your ankles to two other anchor points.

You're utterly exposed and ashamed at your body's display, mortified at how your body is reacting when you catch sight of Atsumu, his eyes dilated, looking at your slit that you know is drenched already. The rough texture of the rope presses painfully into your skin from how tight the bindings are. You can only let out gagged whines in complaint, chest rising up and down from the loud breaths.

"Can't do, love," Osamu chides, kissing the knot at your wrist, satisfied with the results. His fingertips trail down to cup your jaw and his thumb runs across the tea strainer. You close your eyes and groan at his touch. Osamu murmurs, "I won't let anything go to waste."

Atsumu is growing impatient at the sight of his twin treating you like the finest specimen ever. You're not the first one. You won't be the last one, but he still can't stand the sight of someone looking just like himself having first tastes while he's missing out himself. He wants to shove Osamu aside, but he knows that Osamu absolutely hates it when he ravages the meal when it's not ready.

Atsumu unzips his pants and lets his hardened, leaking cock spring free. You stare at Atsumu who is fixated on his own pleasure. His hand wraps around his cock and pumps the length up and down.

Osamu turns your head to look at himself instead. "Someone there is impatient, but let's not learn from him, okay? I want to take you slow, make sure you'll be ready. I don't want you stressed, you release too much cortisol and that toughens the meat."

Anything that goes through his hands...well, in short, all become part of his design.

His hand kneads your breast and toys with your nipple, circling and tugging on the tiny, erect bud.

"Relax," he whispers into your ear. "Just like you did last night."

You try to clamp your thighs shut from reflex. Immediately the resistance from the rope ties stop your movements. Osamu squeezes your thighs and pushes them apart once more.

"Right here isn't it, after hearing me fuck 'Tsumu..." Osamu's finger runs down the sides of your labia. "You just couldn't help touching yourself too huh?"

He knows. They know. You feel your cheeks burn at the realization.

"There's nothing embarrassing about it. If anyone should be, it should be us twins, " Osamu's fingers easily slip in, your pussy already dripping with arousal. "Oh woops, I shouldn't need to comfort you. You're clearly not shy."

Osamu's fingers are thick and long, able to reach far deeper than you ever can. Your tongue is still struggling against the gag while your saliva steeps the tea leaves trapped in the ball.

"Oi," Atsumu cuts in with annoyance. "I thought you said to not play with food. What the fuck are you doing, chef?"

Osamu stops his finger in you for a moment before dragging them out. You're trembling at the sudden emptiness and desire to fill the space immediately. The lack of stimulation is irritating and you are desperate.

Osamu walks up to Atsumu, bringing his drenched fingers covered in your slick to his lips for a taste. Before he can do so, Atsumu grabs Osamu's wrist and takes in those digits, sucking on them gingerly.

Osamu smiles and runs the other hand through Atsumu's hair.

"Patience is a virtue, 'Tsumu, I was just getting her fully prepared for you. I'm giving her all to you already, you couldn't even let me have a taste of her?"

Atsumu releases Osamu's fingers with a pop. "I never said I wasn't going to share," he mutters before pulling Osamu in for a kiss, passing the taste of you along their tongues.

Your body jostles as you finally get a visual matching what you heard last night. You feel your pussy leaking with more excitement, the arousal drips all the way down to your asshole. And the more you squirm, it's as though the rope ties become tighter and tighter, rubbing your skin raw. But even that pain is incomparable to the need to quell your fire.

Atsumu pulls away and presses one last kiss on Osamu's nose. "I always love what you serve, thank you 'Samu." Your heart rate rapidly speeds up as Atsumu comes towards you. He's positioned between your legs, both hands on your thighs, marveling at the display of your body. His hands feel hot.

Atsumu grins. "You probably didn't expect me to be the one taking you, huh?" He guides his cock to your entrance, the bulging tip prodding along your puffy lips. "Did you want Osamu to be the one fucking you?"

No? You want to argue, straining your head up slightly, but only tea-laced saliva drips out from the corners of your mouth.

"'Fuck me, 'Samu. Fuck me, please.' Is that what you heard? Is that what you wanted to say too?"

Your screams are muffled whimpers.

Osamu snorts off to the side, watching Atsumu do exactly what he accused Osamu earlier of: playing with his food. Hypocrite.

Atsumu glares at Osamu before turning his attention back to you. "You'll be begging for me, Atsumu, after I'm done with you."

He lines himself at your entrance and inches himself in, groaning at how your cunt is somehow just sucking him in. You're so warm and tight inside, wrapping perfectly around every part of him. He sits in you for a moment, just enjoying being blanketed by your muscles and chuckling how you tighten around him every now and then.

You whine, urging Atsumu to move a little.

"Okay, okay. Geez, and 'Samu says I'm impatient." Atsumu slowly draws his cock out and snaps his hips forward, the base of his balls slapping against your ass. He delights at how you squeeze your eyes shut and continues rocking into you at a comfortable pace.

Osamu enjoys standing off to the side for a while. He always liked watching Atsumu savor and delight the food he prepares. Atsumu always eats with such gusto. It should have always been that way, until the witch ruined everything. The curse, an experiment with the dark arts, should have never happened. Above all else, it should never have been on Atsumu. Osamu can only wonder if the reason they are subjected to this fate is because they are twins. Until a cure is found, Atsumu, his most beloved other, will have to replenish himself in this way.

A sharp pain rips through you and tears well up in your eyes. You feel Atsumu's cock suddenly begin to pulsate and grow in size. At first, you thought it was because you're clamping down on him too hard and will yourself to relax. But the cock, the thing, is certainly unnatural now. And between your tear-stained vision, you can just barely make out... Monster.

You begin to thrash wildly, head tossing side to side, back arched as much as you can in a futile escape attempt. Atsumu's claws rest on your hips while he pounds into you furiously. His groans, now deep growls, send vibrations that you can feel within your throbbing clit. You fear that you'll actually be ripped in half by the way Atsumu is thrusting into you. The engorged cockhead hits your cervix each time and his ball sack, even heavier, bowls and knocks against you.

Osamu unfolds his arms and comes over.

"It'll only hurt if you don't relax," he tells you, reaching out to press on your clit. "Just let him have his way."

"Go fuck her somewhere else," Atsumu snarls. His voice is warped and bellowing. Your mind is getting foggy as Osamu's fingers on your clit don't stop teasing the bud while having a petty talk with Atsumu. And Atsumu, ticked off by Osamu, picks up his speed.

"There we go, now that's beautiful," Osamu comments, taking his hand away and watching you unfurl in your pleasure. Your abused cunt is puffy when Atsumu pulls out, and you feel the thick liquid start to flow out when you take breaths.

"No, don't do that," Osamu chides, taking three fingers to gather the cum spilling out and stuffing it back in. "Better keep it all in. 'Tsumu isn't done with you yet."

Not yet? You can't even voice your thoughts except weakly shaking your head and moaning into the steel gag. In the moment, your stomach rumbles loudly.

"'Samu, she's hungry," Atsumu points out, rubbing your tummy. "You feed her and I'll stuff her."

Osamu ruffles Atsumu's long hair and gives his new, erected horns a teasing squeeze. Atsumu yelps at the touch. "'Samu!"

"Okay, okay," Osamu relents and stands next to your head. You see him take the paring knife again and slide the icy blade between the cotton ties and your hot cheek. A quick slice and you feel the pressure of the gag release. Osamu removes the tea strainer from your mouth and tosses it into the sink.

"Must have been so over-brewed, I apologize for that," he says. You know he doesn't mean it at all.

"Why?" you croak out. Your jaw and cheeks are sore from being held in position for so long. There's so many things you believe you can ask why about. Why they are prepping you like a meal, fucking you like a toy...Why Atsumu is the way he is. Why Osamu is not who you think he is either. Why you.

Despite Atsumu's grotesque figure, you're sure that you fear this twin more. Osamu's thoughts are so well-hidden behind his eyes; he never gives away what he's thinking or planning. You can only accept his decisions from the receiving end.

"Because of Atsumu," Osamu answers. Everything is for 'Tsumu. "I'll feed you."

Osamu cradles your head with both hands, his fingers tangled in your hair. He prods his cock against your lips. Feeling your resistance, he grips your hair tightly, painfully pulling on your scalp, and presses the tip of his cock to force your lips open. You nearly gag at the length entering your throat and your hands ball into tight fists. Your nose is buried in the base of his cock, pressing into his balls. Each breath you take is heavy with his musky, hot scent.

It's easy to focus on Osamu's cock fucking into your throat, leaving an unamused, monstrous twin off to the side preparing to turn your attention back to him by force.

Atsumu rubs himself against you, preparing to enter you again. You're sure that he has become even bigger. When the tip pushes through, your body attempts to fight the intrusion in self-preservation. The claws at your hips dig in and Atsumu all but pulls you onto his length like a sock. You scream around Osamu's cock, throat clenching around his thick length, and nearly black out from the stretch.

You never had anything this big in you before. Atsumu lifts you up slightly, his grasp becoming large enough to encircle around your whole waist. Your ankles are still tethered and tug on you, much to Atsumu's annoyance. He easily slices through the bondages with a sharp claw. Now free of restraints, Atsumu can cradle you more easily, finally pushing the last section into you.

Crack!

You can’t cry while you're stuffed with Osamu’s cock, but tears stream endlessly from your eyes. You’re sure your pelvic floor is broken, completely forced apart in a futile attempt to accommodate Atsumu stuffing you beyond your physical capacity. Your hips give out as your two legs, bone out from their sockets, dangle grotesquely.

“Just focus on me,” Osamu wipes your tears away and continues to pump into you. But you cannot focus on the human object in your mouth when your whole lower half and inwards are broken, stretched or squashed.

"Hey look ‘Samu! It's bulging," Atsumu marvels at the imprint of his tip pushing your flesh out from the inside. “Look, my cock is saying ‘hello’.”

Atsumu excitement translates into messy thrusts, treating your body like a game. “Maybe I can even touch your dick through her!”

Your whole body is numb, the brain shuts its pain signals off completely, and hormones pour through your bloodstream in overdrive. The broken climax spasms through your body like the last bits of a faltering system.

“Better hurry...she’s...she’s fading soon,” Osamu warns between his grunts. He clasps your head and spurts his seed into you. You mindlessly swallow every drop of him, letting the contents slowly flow down your throat. You can’t process anything nor recognize any of the murky images. Who are you? Where are you?

Your memory fades in and out as your eyesight drifts between black and white. You can’t do anything about how the monster is now on all fours over your body, unrecognizable as Atsumu. You don’t feel any fear towards this grotesque figure. You don’t register how his tongue licks your neck.

Your mouth is now empty but you can’t formulate syllables.

“I’m sorry,” you hear Osamu whisper before sharp fangs pierce into your jugular, digging in deeper and tearing a chunk out. Red sprays across your body in fast spurts, drenching Atsumu and covering Osamu. The teeth at your throat gnaw at the flesh, starved, tearing through the skin, fat, and tissues like a child crunching fruit.

You can feel the droplets falling onto your face like fresh rain after a storm. You vaguely remember your teacher and her warning of strangers. She always reprimanded you and you wanted to make her proud. There will no longer be any chance of that now. You weren’t a good student, and only an utter failure.

Osamu waits for Atsumu to finish you off. Atsumu always gets messy at this point. Osamu tried to help Atsumu section his prey off by cutting and organizing the limbs and even attempted to debone the meal beforehand, but Atsumu has his preferences, and Osamu respects them. So, Osamu delegates cleaning duties to himself instead.

You’re already beyond recognition when Osamu comes back with barrels of oil. All that is left is a kitchen stained with blood and a pile of bone with chewed connective tissue left. Atsumu sometimes eats the bones too, but not always.

“‘Tsumu, are you full now?” Osamu asks, reaching out to cradle his twin. Atsumu has now transformed back to the way he is supposed to be. Osamu threads his hand through Atsumu’s blonde hair and inhales his twin’s scent.

Atsumu doesn’t respond and tugs at Osamu’s collar, trailing down his arm to bring Osamu’s hand to his own cock.

Osamu grins and kisses the top of Atsumu’s head. “Do you want to fuck me ‘Tsumu? I know you like to, after your meals.”

Atsumu whines and nips at Osamu’s jaw, pushing the twin down on the blood-stained floor.

“Okay, okay.” Osamu unzips and pulls down his pants before crawling onto all fours.

Atsumu’s hand cups Osamu’s ass and pries the cheeks open before curiously fingering at the specimen plugging Osamu’s hole. Atsumu holds onto the base and turns the object, before laughing.

“‘Samu, what is this you have in your ass,” Atsumu teases. “I like this presentation.”

This time, Osamu is the one embarrassed. “Last meal, it hurt like hell. So...I wanted to prepare a little.”

“With an egg holder?” Atsumu cackles again, fiddling with the ceramic object. “Should’ve just told me ‘Samu, I could never bear to hurt you.”

Atsumu holds onto the base and slowly pulls the object out before tossing it aside. He smiles and teases Osamu’s enlarged hole that’s opening and closing around nothing. Gathering up some saliva, he spits onto Osamu’s asshole before lining his cock at the rim and slowly pushing in.

Along with the curse comes a near insatiable lust. Atsumu knows that if he doesn’t fulfill his need to fuck or be fucked, he will snap. He doesn’t really care who he kills during a frenzy of that sort, but it’s too risky to get Osamu caught up in the collateral.

The witch that wanted to create the perfect weapon, failed. She failed because she underestimated the twins’ bonds for each other. She failed because the twins discovered that witches excrete a very special hormone in their body after climax, and it is exactly that substance that is slowly curing Atsumu. With every witch eaten and absorbed, Atsumu is healing and gaining magical powers. He is even capable of passing those essences to Osamu. One day, everything will be the way it's supposed to be.

Osamu plays with a few strands of Atsumu’s hair. Atsumu’s softened cock still buried inside of him. Atsumu has his jaw resting on Osamu’s shoulder.

“You make me feel so good,” Atsumu sighs, enjoying the quiet moments after his high.

“And what about her?” Osamu asks, gesturing to the table where your remains are still at.

“She made me feel good too. The best one yet, but don’t be jealous.”

“Come on, let’s clean up and get out of here.”

After washing their bodies and changing into clean clothes, Atsumu and Osamu are ready to say goodbye to the cottage they have overstayed their welcomes at.

"Let's go 'Samu, we're already behind." Atsumu finishes dumping the last bucket of oil along the edges of the room.

The clamor of boots stride across the creaking wood. As though with the passing of its owner, the cottage itself has lost the will to live.

"Coming," Osamu calls back, walking past the makeshift funeral pyre for you. He notices a flash on the ground and bends down to pick up a button.

"'Samu! Get the fuck out or I'll burn ya down too!"

"Yea, yea."

Osamu drops the button into his shirt pocket and joins his twin outside. Atsumu strikes a matchstick and tosses the small flame into the cottage. Fire meets oil and spreads in an instance, engulfing the cottage in an angry blend of orange and red, devouring all contents and remains within. The smell of scorched wood reaches the twins who are looking at the sight from a distance.

"She was good," Atsumu comments, looking at his twin unsure about what Osamu's grey eyes are thinking about. Atsumu realizes that he didn't specify what good exactly means. But it doesn't seem like Osamu is paying much attention. Is Osamu thinking about you? Is he unhappy? Does he regret what happened to you? Although what's done is done already, if time can go back, would Osamu choose? You or Atsumu?

Osamu slips his hand into Atsumu's, erasing the unspoken worries away. He gently leads Atsumu onto the trail, leaving the burning cottage behind.

"Stop thinking such nonsense," Osamu mutters, squeezing Atsumu's hand. No matter what happens, Atsumu will always come first. His needs, his desires. That's what it means for Osamu to love Atsumu. Even though the rest of the world may not understand the relationship the twins share, calling it depraved and disgusting, it's still selfless on their part. What sin is there to honestly love? What sin is there to try and save his loved ones?

While Osamu admits to himself that he does feel a deep attraction to you and knows that Atsumu feels the same pull as well, there's nothing that can be done about Atsumu's condition. But it's not as though you are completely gone. Your essences and core are within both twins, being absorbed as one with their bodies and soul. You'll forever be with them in that way, even if you no longer have any sentient memory of it.

Osamu fiddles the button in his pocket; there's still a physical reminder of you in that tiny form.

It must be about a twenty-minute trek from the burning site. Although the flames are already far from eyesight, the scorching smell and embers still drift over. The twins pick up their pace, eager to exit the forest before nightfall and make it to the next destination. On the way, they pass by the tree trunk with a wanted poster.

"They never get my best angles!" Atsumu complains, ripping a wanted poster that is nailed to the tree trunk.

"It's not like you have a good angle, ‘Tsumu."

"Shut it, we look the same ‘Samu. You're just calling yourself ugly too!"

Osamu shrugs and continues his trek down the main trail. Atsumu huffs, tearing the parchment into indistinguishable pieces before throwing the shreds up into the air like confetti.

"Wait up!"

Osamu stops in his tracks. "Hurry up, loser. We still have a long way to go."

Atsumu takes a few wide strides and swings his arm around his twin's shoulder. Behind them, a very light drizzle falls from the sky.

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fanfic-me-up · 4 years

Note

Hiiiiiii can I request Bakugou x fem!reader?? (*≧∀≦*) Maybe he has a crush on you who has a healing quirk and helps recovery girl when it comes to helping the injured, like when class 1-A finishes up training and recovery girl normally sends her to deal with it all the time? She can heal people but it drains her energy so when she finished with it she takes naps on the recovery beds? Idk but thanks!much love❤️❤️❤️

This is a really cute idea! Thank you for requesting 💖

“Shut up and Heal me”

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x fem!reader

Word Count: 1.5k+

Warnings: Language (what do you expect, it’s Bakugou lol)

Synopsis: You’re a student at U.A. and Recovery Girl’s apprentice healer. When you push pass your limit to heal Bakugou Katsuki, who knew he cared enough to make sure you heal too.

“Wake up, dumbass.”

Your shoulder is shaken, abruptly waking you from your nap. A muscular silhouette takes shape as you pry your eyes open.

“Bakugou? Is that you?” Your voice laced with sleep.

“Nah, it’s Batman.”

You squint your eyes, still half asleep. Is this a dream? Bakugou rolls his eyes at your inability to detect blatant sarcasm.

“‘Course it’s me, dipshit. Get up.”

You check your phone and groan when you find you only got five minutes worth of valuable shut eye.

“You’re here early.”

“Aizawa-sensei let us out early!” Midoriya pipes up. He’s chipper for someone who looks one step away from passing out. Any trace of sleep vanishes when you assess his injuries, asking him a series of questions to confirm where he needs medical attention and if it’s life-threatening. You usher him to Recovery Girl’s office so he can get treated immediately. Typical Midoriya - always going plus ultra even for training exercises.

Bakugou’s no better as you take in the numerous scrapes and bruises raking his body. Despite his beaten-up state, the only open wound is on the right side of his stomach - a small pool of blood seeping through his muscle shirt. He’s been pushing himself much harder in training these past couple weeks and you know it’s the life of a hero, but you’re concerned for him as a healer and as a friend.

“You gonna stare all day or heal me?”

“Sorry, right, uh.. Take off your shirt and get on the bed.”

The words escape before you realize the implication. Bakugou raises an eyebrow before snorting.

“Tch. Weirdo.”

You flush as he takes off his shirt, laying down on the bed. The wound running down his abdomen is not deep, but it is long. It’ll be difficult to heal, but you’re always up for a challenge. You wash your hands before activating your quirk. A glowing aura surrounds your hands, transparent in color, but before you can focus on changing the color to heal Bakugou - a spaced out Kaminari stands before you with his signature thumbs up. Snot is running down his nose and his eyes have this blank look like no one’s home.

“hewwoo?”

“Oi! Dunceface! To your right!”

“wa-whee-whaa?”

That’s Kaminari gibberish for “Where?” Being Recovery Girl’s intern and constantly healing Class 1-A along with other students in the hero course has made you quite familiar with the unusual side effects of overusing one’s quirk. You created a book with translations for Kaminari’s most used gibberish phrases so you can treat him more efficiently. Today, you tried placing his juice box and cookies on the table to the right to see if he can find it himself. But he’s having problems finding what direction is right.

“Your other right, dumbass.” Bakugou growls as Kaminari bends down to look for his juice box under a chair. You giggle as you help him locate his snack before ushering him to one of the recovery beds to take a nap. He knocks out in no time, snoring softly. Bakugou grunts, his hand pressing against the wound on his side.

“Don’t touch, it could get infected.”

“Tch. I know, but look.” He releases his hold to show you the blood dripping down his abdomen. You curse for not healing him sooner when he was clearly a higher priority than Kaminari. How could you forget the number one rule as a healer? There’s no time to beat yourself up for it so you grab a cleaning cloth to wipe away the blood before activating your quirk once again. You close your eyes, focusing your energy into what you’re about to do which is close up a wound. Red swirls behind your eyelids and you focus the color down your body to your hands. You open your eyes to find them glowing a bright, luminescent red - a stark contrast to the dim lighting in the room. Bakugou hisses at the touch; your hands trailing along his abdomen. You look up to apologize when you notice Bakugou’s flushed cheeks, as red as your glowing hands.

“Are you okay? You’re a bit flushed.” You deactivate your quirk in your left hand to touch his forehead. It’s cause for concern if he has a fever due to an open wound, but you’re taken aback when Bakugou swats your hand away.

“I’m fine! Shut up and heal me.” He looks away, but you catch the persistent redness now making its way down his neck. You return to healing the wound. It’s almost closed, but you can feel your energy draining quicker than usual since you didn’t have enough time to recover earlier.

“Hey, you good?”

“Mhm. Al-most… done…” You bite your lip and clench your eyes shut to concentrate the last of your energy into closing the rest of the wound.

“Don’t push it, dumbass.” Bakugou grunts and despite the harsh tone, there’s a tinge of concern underneath.

“Heh.. could say… the same… for..”

You trail off and your hands glow brighter by the second that you can see red behind your eyelids. You feel the wound seal shut and when you open your eyes you see there’s not a scar in sight. This is the first time you were able to completely heal a wound on your own. You smile at your accomplishment.

“You can take your hands off.”

You flush before ripping your hands away. The quick movement gives you a head rush, the room spinning in circles.

“Whoa.” Bakugou grabs you by the shoulders and reverses your position so you’re laying down now.

“My head hurts…”

“No shit,” Bakugou snorts, “What’d I say about pushing?”

“Go beyond... plus… ultra…”

The last thing you hear is Bakugou laughing, a soft smile curling his lips, before your vision goes black.

------------------------------------------------

You wake up to the smell of roasted coffee and cinnabons. Faint voices go back and forth, but you can’t make out what they’re saying. The light streaming in is gone; the room now darker than before. Jeez how long were you out?

“Took you long enough.”

You whip your head to see Bakugou sitting on a chair and nursing a cup of coffee. The bed next to yours is empty. Kaminari must’ve recovered meaning you’ve slept for more than an hour.

“You stayed.”

“Yeah, and? Wanted to make sure you didn’t die ‘cause of me.”

City lights shine bright, and the hustle and bustle outside suggests the city isn’t going to sleep anytime soon. Live music roars from nightclubs and people laughing on the street would entice anyone to join the party. It’s pretty hard to believe Bakugou would stay behind on a Friday night when it’s common knowledge that you need to sleep after overusing your quirk. But here he is, that same strip of red running along his cheeks and nose like he just got a cute little sunburn.

“You like laser tag?” Bakugou asks.

You raise an eyebrow at the random question, shrugging when you answer.

“Never played.”

Bakugou balks, shock written all over his face.

“You never - what kind of person - nevermind. If we hurry, we can make the last round.”

Maybe this time you really were dreaming. You subtly pinch yourself to make sure and nope, this is real life and Bakugou is inviting you to hang out.

“Sounds... fun? But I… um…I’m not really part of your squad…”

You didn’t want to overstep. It seemed like they were a pretty tight-knit group and you’ve never hung out with them outside of school. The fear of ruining their night because you didn’t vibe with them twisted your gut.

“Gimme your phone,” Bakugou says.

Still in a daze, you give him your phone without question. He takes his phone out and not a second later you hear a “ping” from yours, He presses a couple buttons before handing it back to you.

“Congrats, you’re part of the squad.”

You see that you’ve been added to a group chat called “keeping up with the crackheads”. You don’t have time to contemplate exactly what you got thrusted into as Bakugou is grabbing both of your jackets hanging on the coat rack, handing yours and pushing you towards the door.

“I- um.. Thanks… I guess...? Bakugou, what’s going on?”

You’re already halfway down the hallway, everything happening too fast without a clear explanation. Bakugou groans, clearly frustrated that you’re not a mind reader and he has to actually communicate what he’s thinking. He grabs your shoulders, gently shoving your back against the lockers, and planting his hands on either side of you. Being this close to Bakugou makes you feel a familiar flurry of butterflies as you’re caged in and forced to look into those crimson eyes.

“I. Like. You.” He smirks, getting a kick at your flustered state, before leaning away with his hands in his pockets, “And I know you like me too.”

You don’t know what to freak out over first. The fact that Bakugou knows about your crush or that he likes you back. Also, how does he know you like him? You haven’t told anyone about your crush, preferring to keep your cards close to your chest.

“Don’t talk in your sleep if you don’t want me to know how much you wanna run your hands down my ‘chiseled abs’.”

You squeak and cover your face with your hands, too embarrassed at what else you might’ve said in your sleep.

“Chill, dumbass, it’s cute.”

Bakugou rolls his eyes, throwing an arm over your shoulder, leading you to a night full of riveting laser tag, making new friends, and first kisses. 💖

#bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki #bnha x reader #bakugou katsuki fluff #bnha fluff #bakugo x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki fanfic #bnha #mha #fanfic-me-up #shut up and heal me

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warriorsbutnotreally · 3 years

Text

Snowkit Becomes Snowstar AU

So after a small break and focusing on an event, I'll slowly get back to these. I may close asks every now and then because

wow

i have a lot of em fsdkj

but

I will get through

now

onto my favorite lad

Snowkit

Or should I say Snowstar?

Snowkit is rescued in time by Fireheart

Speckletail is relieved and cries over the fact that her son is alive and well

There's still a debate about Snowkit becoming an apprentice, but when Cinderpaw stands up, she demands to be allowed to help mentor Snowkit Before any complaints about the medicine cat apprentice can be made, Speckletail also steps forward to help, followed by Brackenfur

Eventually Bluestar gives up and Brackenfur becomes Snowpaw's mentor - with aid from Cinderpaw and Speckletail

Everything goes about normal and before the battle with BloodClan, Snowpaw becomes Snowlight - a name personally picked by Speckletail for overcoming his struggles He's also revealed to be close friends with Bramblepaw and Tawnypaw [who are his niece and nephew canonly] as well as Cinderpelt [who is also his niece]

TNP comes and Snowlight is trusted by Brambleclaw to be told where he's going and the white tom is also the mentor of Squirrelpaw, whom he struggles with at times, but he does his best to remain kind towards his spirited apprentice

When Graystripe is taken, Snowlight quickly steps up to help his Clan, not hesitating for a moment to be there for ThunderClan, as he knows his Clanmates need someone

During the journey there is another hawk scare, but he is saved by his apprentice, Squirrelpaw, and Brambleclaw He personally talks to Firestar about her becoming a warrior, stating how proud she is of her - even if she did run off to join the prophecy cats for a bit

As the Clans settle, there's whispers of a new deputy being needed and all eyes are on Snowlight Brambleclaw is a little jealous of this and Tigerstar tries to convince his son that Snowlight is in the way - Brambleclaw rejects this as Snowlight is still his friend

Hawkfrost, however, hears what his father's saying and tries to lay a trap for the white tom

Brambleclaw manages to come across Hawkfrost and Snowlight before the trap is set and he attacks his half-brother Hawkfrost is outraged, screeching that he could make Brambleclaw the next leader of ThunderClan Brambleclaw states that he doesn't want that Not if it means killing someone close to him

Brambleclaw ends up killing Hawkfrost in front of a confused and shocked Snowlight Thankfully the deaf tom understands after what happened is explained to him and he swears the secret will die with him Brambleclaw makes an off-handed remark not to bring up death at the moment

Snowlight is made the deputy of ThunderClan - no dream omen needed

TPoT and Snowlight has been doing well as deputy. He is a noble and kind cat - and after Cinderpelt's death, the deaf tom makes it clear right away he wants no cat to go through what she had to

He becomes Jaypaw's mentor, not allowing him to be put in the medicine cat den just because he's blind There's some concerns on communication, but the two manage to find a way with a Morse-code-like language that consists of steady and hard thumps to the ground with the front paw There is some help from Leafpool to translate at first, but eventually the two are an unstoppable apprentice-mentor force

When Cinderpaw is hurt, Snowlight joins in helping Leafpool, providing aid when he can and personally making sure she has the time to heal Jaypaw is confused on why his mentor and Leafpool are so concerned, but is thankful that his mentor doesn't want to give up on him Hollypaw still becomes a warrior apprentice with her brothers, too, after trying to train under Leafpool

When Sol comes to the Clans, Snowlight is confused by the suave tom, and is intrigued by him

He ends up meeting with the tortoiseshell in secret, teaching him kitty sign language Eventually Sol tricks him, using his charm to blind the snowy tom to his plans When Snowlight realizes this, he is visibly hurt and ashamed of himself to the point of talking to Firestar, wondering if he's really the right choice for deputy Firestar assures him he is and comforts the deaf tom

When Ashfur dies there is hesitance from Snowlight, as he wants to believe it's Sol because he's angry at the charming loner, but he struggles to accept that someone like the tom could actually be a killer He is proven right when they learn it wasn't Sol He is strangely relieved

Sol is gone again and Snowlight finds himself missing the loner, but pushes these feelings away in order to focus on his Clan The Three become Lionblaze, Hollyleaf, and Jayfrost Brambleclaw is a little unsure of the suffix -frost, but Snowlight assures his friend that there's no ill will towards the blind warrior The two later talk about cats who were gone and Snowlight reveals he had been thinking of Frostfur when he and Firestar were considering names for the three

Eventually it is revealed that Jay, Lion, and Holly are the kits of Crowfeather and Leafpool Snowlight is confused why his apprentice didn't trust him, but when she explains that it wasn't her secret to tell, he is understanding, though admittedly frustrated with Leafpool for putting her sister in that position When Brambleclaw even yells at Squirrelflight, Snowlight is quick to defend her

OotS comes around and Snowlight is working hard with Firestar to keep the Clan in order. Briarpaw is revealed to be being trained by Leafpool, who is being punished [not by becoming a warrior, but by aiding in apprentice tasks every now and then and being temporarily banned from gatherings as well as having to have an escort with her wherever she goes]

Snowlight's not much of a focus here, other than being moral support to Squirrelflight and Jayfrost as well as just generally being a strong-willed and progressive deputy

Briarpaw becomes Briarberry and she's extremely proud of herself and even more so that she managed to earn her name along-side Bumblestripe and Blossomfall, as she a bright and fast learner

Jayfrost and Cinderheart are implied to be close, though Cinderheart seems to be the only one with any romantic feelings between the two Jayfrost becomes Dovepaw/wing's mentor and Ivypaw/pool is given to Cinderheart

Lionblaze and Foxleap, meanwhile, are mates and very proud of the fact they are together

When Sol reappears, Snowlight confronts the tom He admits he had romantic feelings towards Sol and how he wanted things to go better Sol, bitter, asks why Snowlight could be a warrior and not himself Snowlight somberly replies that someone gave up on the tortoiseshell and that he had deserved better and how he would have done anything to help Sol become a warrior Sol is taken aback and cannot look the deaf tom in the eye "maybe in another life things would be better"

Jayfrost does come to Snowlight about his growing feelings for Cinderheart, but he's unsure what to say or do and it stresses him out more and more as he doesn't want to ruin his friendship with her Snowlight helps Jayfrost and eventually he and Cinderheart are mates

Everything goes somewhat has per canon [with what changes there are, of course] and Firestar dies, making Snowlight the new leader - now Snowstar Snowstar makes his deputy Cinderheart

my brain is too empty for AVoS and TBC, but

some notes

Jayfrost and Cinderheart later have two kits - twins Rainpelt and Flurrynose

Lionblaze and Foxleap become the adopted dads of Lilykit/paw/heart and Seedkit/paw/spot [whom Lionblaze stops from drowning]

Briarberry becomes a strong medicine cat and carries the same beliefs as Snowstar - that any cat can be a warrior, no matter what, and defends Alderpaw when his dad, Brambleclaw, tries to suggest he becomes a medicine cat

Snowstar is the first to welcome SkyClan and personally helps work out a proper plan so that the Clans can have proper territory without having to chase SkyClan away

There are also times where Snowstar goes off on his own Only Jayfrost knows that it's to try to find Sol

#au #snowkit #sol #jayfeather #brambleclaw #warriors #warrior cats #i'm very passionate about snowkit

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lesetoilesfous · 3 years

Text

For @alienturnipp, from the angst prompt list for Nanders, “people who are okay don’t act like this”

@dadrunkwriting

Pairing: Nathaniel Howe/ Anders

Characters: Anders, Nathaniel Howe

Tags: Awakening fun, canon-typical Circle abuse

Rating: Mature

Nathaniel is not, habitually, heavy footed. On more than one occasion, the commander’s Antivan lover had suggested he take up a career in dance, ( “so light are your dainty footsteps, mi amigo.”) He’s not sure whether Anders knows this. This is largely because after three incidents in which Nathaniel had caused the mage to fall into something alarmingly akin to a panic attack, Nate has made an effort to be heavy footed around him.

Still, Anders jumps when Nathaniel knocks on the door to his room. The door is open - Nathaniel has never known Anders to close it, and the mage himself is standing in fairly sparse surroundings looking...lost. The expression fades almost as soon as Nathaniel catches it, like a mirage, Instead Anders gives him a smile as bright and thin as cheap paint.

“Howe! Wasn’t expecting you...here. How do you do that? You always seem to melt out of the blighted shadows.”

Anders laughs, but the sound rings hollow, and his long fingers shake a little even as he brushes them against his robe. Nathaniel frowns. “Are you alright?”

It’s been three weeks since he and the mage were conscripted by the warden commander. More has happened in those three weeks than most of the time Nathaniel spent soldiering in the marches, but Anders still acts as if he’s only just arrived. It’s...disconcerting.

The mage, for his part, smiles again, “Oh yes, don’t worry about me, I’m not going to go all demon on you.” He wiggles his fingers, as if to emphasise his point, and his light brown eyes flicker over Nathaniel’s shoulder, to the empty corridor beyond.

Nathaniel knows that no one is there - he makes it his business to know when he’s being watched - but he turns anyway, and cannot help but feel the pantomime must be painfully obvious as he makes a show of checking to see if anyone is there. In the low, rainy grey light of Amaranthine it’s hard to tell, but when he turns back he thinks he can see Anders flushing.

Anders claps, and seems to startle himself with the volume of the sound (outside, a few of the mabari start barking, and he stiffens almost imperceptibly.) “So! Does the commander need me? Has she finally realised she has no use for me after all? Time for me to get shipped back off to the Circle? Between you and me, I think I’ll put up a fight. For old time’s sake, you know.”

Nathaniel’s frown deepens, and he moves to cross the threshold into Anders’ chamber, but hesitates. Something at the back of his head tells him that he needs to respect the mage’s space, and whether it’s old prejudice or gut instinct, Nate can’t quite force himself to disregard it. Instead he shakes his head, “Why would you think that?”

Anders laughs, and again, it rings hollow. “Oh, well, you know. It’s been a week and I haven’t been forced to risk my life again, so. I figured…”

Nathaniel cannot shake the irritating feeling that he’s missing something. “She cares about you a great deal. You knew each other in the Circle, didn’t you?”

Anders snorts, and it’s graceless enough that Nathaniel believes it’s honest. “As much as you could know anyone there. And she was younger than me. Mages aren’t allowed to mix with apprentices once we’ve passed our Harrowing.” Anders wrinkles his nose. “I suppose they want to stop us getting attached.”

“Why?” Nathaniel asks the question without meaning to and regrets it immediately. He’s certain he will not like the answer.

Anders shrugs, stiff and awkward in his tall frame. “Most of them die.”

Something of Nathaniel’s shock must show on his face, because Anders laughs - for real this time, though a little bitterly. His long hands flicker through the air like restless birds.

“Hate to break it to you Nate, but the Circle has a pretty high death rate.” Anders laughs again, higher pitched and a little manic. “Would you look at that? I’m a poet and I didn’t know it.”

Nathaniel crosses the threshold. He catches Anders hands without thinking, arresting their ceaseless, anxious movement through the empty air. Beneath his hands, Anders’ wrists are too thin. Nathaniel still isn’t entirely convinced the templars who’d caught Anders were feeding him. The mage, for his part, falls into startled silence. Nathaniel watches his pulse racing through the thin skin of his throat as he swallows, and is reminded of nothing so much as a hare.

But then he looks up into Anders’ brown, golden eyes, and sees the fierce thread of rebellion there (“I think I’ll put up a fight. For old time’s sake, you know”), and Nathaniel realises that Anders has never been anything other than a fox: wily and wild and refusing to be tamed. “What is the matter?”

Anders purses his lips. This close, he smells of the embrium and elfroot he carries with him on his belt. Nathaniel is half surprised he isn’t making poultices now. He usually was. He claimed it helped him think, but Nathaniel isn’t entirely sure it’s not just a habit he hasn’t shaken from making potions for the Circle.

Anders pulls his arms back and Nathaniel lets him, not following as Anders backs up in the direction of one of the thin, hard pallet beds they used in the soldiers’ dormitories. The commander must have dragged it up here specially, though he couldn’t imagine why. Anders follows his gaze and coughs another laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Oh, that. Sorry, couldn’t sleep on goosefeathers. Too damn soft. I mean what’s laying your head down at night if you don’t wake up in pain?”

Nathaniel decides that Anders doesn’t actually want an answer to that, and presses on to the subject that he’s avoiding. “People who are okay don’t act like this.”

Anders flashes him another sharp, crooked grin and again Nathaniel catches the fire of anger in his eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Nathaniel clenches his teeth. Delilah had never explained that being kind would take so much blighted work. (He can almost hear the commander in his head, laughing at him for that.) Anders is pacing back and forth in front of his thin, poorly appointed bed, and his hands have started moving again. Nathaniel speaks before Anders’ nervous energy manages to infect him too.

“You have refused to acquire any material possessions other than that pillow, which you hide most of the time. You are stockpiling food beneath the floorboards,” Nathaniel nods at the one uneven plank which had often been the secret to his own childhood hiding places, “ for reasons I do not understand. You never close your door and yet you seem outright terrified whenever anyone enters a place you consider to be private. If you bathe I haven’t seen it, though I must assume that you do as you have not yet begun to smell. You are avoiding...everyone, but especially the commander, despite her efforts and obvious desire to get to know you better. For some reason you still think that she - or any of us - would turn you in to the Circle without a second thought.”

Anders frowns at that, stopping mid-step to look at him with something that is either curiosity or pain in his eyes. “Wouldn’t you?”

Nathaniel stares at him - and feels, for a moment - his own foolish heart plummet like lead into his stomach. “I - no.” Mouth suddenly dry, Nathaniel wets his lips and tries to speak past the lump in his throat (past the voice in the back of his head, he’s afraid of you, everyone’s afraid of you, just like your father).

Anders’ expression softens, and his shoulders drop. “You really mean that, don’t you?”

Nathaniel blinks, and tries to shake off the feeling of being rooted to the spot. “Of course.”

Anders’ mouth quirks upward at the corner. Outside there’s the gentle patter of the autumn rain against the muddy courtyard, bouncing off the mens’ new armour like a thousand soft, tiny bells. After a moment, Anders sits down, heavily, on the thin mattress, and gestures for Nathaniel to step forward.

Feeling as if he’s suddenly been freed of some strange, invisible spell, Nathaniel does so, almost toppling to sit on the floor in front of Anders as he looks at his hands. Anders breaks the new and sudden quiet, running the fingers of his left hand over the knuckles of his right. “They broke my hands.” The admission is so quiet and so unexpected that Nathaniel is almost unsure he heard it. But then Anders lets out a long, shaking breath and continues. “I was...half drunk with magebane so I didn’t...have you ever felt pain without emotion? It’s so hard to describe. Like shock, I guess. You register that something terrible has happened and that it hurts. But the grief, the anger, the fear. All that comes later. They let it heal naturally. So my hands are crooked now.” Anders splays his fingers in the air between them, and Nathaniel can see now, as he hadn’t before, the way his knuckles do stand a little crooked, the way a nose heals when it breaks.

Nathaniel’s voice is rough when he speaks. “Why?”

Anders shrugs, and his expression is distant. “I don’t remember exactly. It was whilst I was in solitary. They were always doing…” His features shutter into a mask so impassive that even Nathaniel cannot read it, and he draws in a quick deep breath and exhales again. “It doesn’t matter.” He offers Nathaniel a small smile, and nods at the door. “I keep the door open because I haven’t had a door, ever. When I was a child I was too young and small to have my own room. In the Circle only templars and Senior Enchanters are granted the luxury of such privacy, and I was neither.” Anders nods at the floorboards. “I...One of the first punishments they’d go to was restricting rations.” Anders’ mouth curls into a thin smile. “I think some of them just wanted to see how long I could go. Caught them making bets on it, once.” Anders shakes his head, as if he’s dislodging the memory from his mind like a cat shaking off water. He spreads his hands wide. “I don’t...know what to do with all this. Everything I’ve ever been told is that I can’t have it. Whatever it is.”

Nathaniel resists the urge to say freedom. He isn’t entirely sure that it’s true. Anders, on the bed, sighs and slides down from the mattress to the floor, easily framing Nathaniel with his long legs, the tabard of his robe falling heavy and velvet between his legs. Nathaniel averts his eyes. Anders’ laugh is rough and low and warm, and then his (crooked) fingers catch Nathaniel’s head and turn it back to look at him.

“That I understand.” Anders leans forward, until his chest is pressing against his bent knees. He smiles at Nathaniel, sweet and a little shy, and this close Nate can see that his eyelashes are almost as golden as his hair. Anders’ other hand comes up to catch the other side of Nathaniel’s face, and Nate doesn’t resist when Anders draws him closer to brush a kiss against his lips. “Thank you for asking, though.”

For a moment they’re quiet. Far off, from downstairs, there’s the sound of Oghren bellowing and Sigrun cackling, followed by a clattering or armour as one or the other of them gives chase. Anders’ thumb runs over Nathaniel’s cheek, and Nathaniel reaches up to catch his wrist and press his hand closer. He waits until Anders meets his eyes to speak. “I would fight with you.” A shadow of a frown passes over Anders’ brow, and Nathaniel clarifies before he can ask, “ If they tried to take you away. Back to the Circle. I would fight by your side.”

Anders’ mouth twitches into a rueful smile, though the pad of his thumb keeps running softly over Nathaniel’s cheek. “Even against the commander? She’s the Hero of Ferelden, you know.”

Nathaniel shifts closer, letting go of Anders’ wrist to reach up and cup the back of his head, gently, firmly, pulling him closer until their foreheads are touching. “Even her. Against the wardens, the templars, chevaliers and darkspawn, Anders. I will not let them take you. Not whilst I am breathing.”

When Anders breathes out, Nathaniel feels the shudder of it where their bodies are touching. Anders doesn’t look at him when he replies. “Don’t say that. Someone might make you prove it.”

Nathaniel huffs, pulling back to look into Anders’ eyes. “Let them.” He catches one of Anders’ hands and pulls it between them, running his fingers over Anders’ crooked knuckles. “This is not Justice. I’ve met Justice.” He looks up, offering a smile which Anders returns, “He looks like a walking corpse. But, truly.” Nathaniel bends and presses a kiss to Anders’ palm, and watches pink flush through his cheeks like a sunrise. “This is not just. And I will not let them have you. I swear it.”

Anders shakes his head, shutting his eyes as his brow twists with a frown despite the smile on his lips. “I want to believe you.”

Nathaniel holds Anders’ hands tightly between his own, and presses a kiss to his forehead. “Perhaps, one day, you will.”

#dadwc #nanders #nathaniel howe #anders #da:a #my fic #alienturnipp

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jasontoddiefor · 3 years

Text

Chapter 7 of As Lightning to the Children eased or as I like to call it: Dooku gets his shit together.

Dooku didn't know how, but Shmi Skywalker had known that something had happened to her child before the call of the Council had even reached them. She had looked up in the middle of her katas, paling rapidly. Dooku had heard of Masters sensing their Padawans' distress before, had experienced such with his own reckless students, but never with such intensity and days' travel in hyperspace away from his children. Still, Shmi continued with her tasks with the same dedication as before her foreboding and did not panic when they got the actual notification two weeks later, telling them that Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi, and Qui-Gon Jinn were already back on Coruscant, apparently all in a miserable condition.

Padawan Skywalker the elder's stance on the whole situation caused Dooku to reconsider his rude behavior during their first meeting. She had known that something was terribly wrong, had felt it deep in her bones when no one else had, and yet she had endured, done her Master proud, and fulfilled their mission first. When they arrived back at the temple, a place Dooku had been away from for too long as he had forgotten the warmth of its embrace, she dutifully made her report to the Council, under the many concerned eyes of the assembled Masters. And only when she had finished her statement, answered all questions, she excused herself and left to visit her son.

If anyone still doubted her place in their order after these actions, Dooku wouldn't hesitate to challenge them himself for her honor, though given her quick wit and skill with the blade, she'd hardly need anyone to fight her battles.

Shmi didn't ask him if he wanted to come with her, but she also didn't stop him when he fell into step with her. She smiled at him, kindly as if she were his Crèchemaster, ready to console him, and not a Padawan as they silently walked to the halls of healing.

Dooku hadn't been there when the Skywalkers had joined the temple, but he had heard of the impossible terror that was Shmi's child.

Yet, somehow, all those rumors couldn't compare to meeting him in person. He looked innocent and human enough, sleeping in his Master's arms, a small togruta child stretched across the both of them. Then, suddenly, he woke and within the blink of an eye, Dooku found himself pinned against a wall, electric blue eyes focused on him with previously unknown intensity.

"Anakin!" Obi-Wan was awake a second later, holding down his student's arm as if that could lessen the pressure on Dooku's chest. "Anakin, stop it, we're home, it's alright."

Disorientated, the child blinked at Dooku, curiosity and confusion entering his gaze as if he were seeing Dooku for the first time. Then whatever might have kept him in a chokehold, stopped and the boy fell back into his Master's arms.

"Obi-Wan?" Anakin sounded puzzled when he spoke up. His voice was rough as if he hadn't spoken in days.

"Hello, Anakin." Though Dooku knew that his grandpadawan was hardly older than twenty-five, the exhaustion wearing him down made him look decades older. "Are you awake now?"

Anakin tilted his head. "Yeah, of course. Why wouldn't I be?"

A shadow passed over Obi-Wan's face. "No reason. Do you know who is visiting us?"

More hastily than before, Anakin's head whipped around and turned into the direction Shmi was standing in. "Mom!" he exclaimed and, after carefully pushing the third child off his lap, he jumped out of bed to rush to his mother. He hugged her tightly, burying his face in her robes. "Mom, I missed you."

Shmi Skywalker, showing no sign of fear, worry, confusion or anything such as that about her son's earlier actions, only embraced him just as tightly.

"I missed you too, Anakin," Shmi said and kissed the top of his head.

Anakin didn't let go of her, but his eyes drifted to the lightsaber clipped to her belt. Without another word, Shmi took it from the belt and handed Anakin the blade. Anakin examined it closely, ran his fingers across the metal hilt before handing it back to his mother. "Your crystals sound nice. I like them."

"I'm glad."

As mother and son continued talking, Dooku managed to get to his feet, still shaken by the assault the others pointedly ignored. He crossed the distance to the bed Obi-Wan and the now yawning youngling were lying on and sat down on it. He disliked showing such weakness, but he couldn't exclude the possibility that his legs might not hold him upright should he continue to stand.

"What was that?" he asked.

Obi-Wan sighed and the youngling whose presence Dooku could not quite explain sat up and gently patted his cheeks, making the young man smile.

"It's a reflex, mostly," Obi-Wan explained. "Anakin isn't quite over what happened yet and lashes out when he thinks we are threatened by something or someone he doesn't recognize."

Obi-Wan's elaboration failed to clear anything up and if the boy didn't look like he hadn't slept in a week, Dooku would claim he was purposefully misdirecting. "We are in the Jedi temple. What is there here that he fears?"

What had Dooku done that Anakin assumed his own lineage would attack him?

The look Obi-Wan was giving him was downright chilling, damning, before it slowly turned into incredulity. "I thought that was why Shmi— You don't sense it, do you?"

He sounded flabbergasted.

"No," Dooku said. "What is there to sense?"

Discomfort and wariness settled in the air, so heavy that Dooku was reminded of the invisible hands around his neck.

"The taint, the poison, the rot clinging to your light," Obi-Wan said slowly. "The darkness."

It sounded like judgement.

The first thing Qui-Gon recognized was noise.

It was loud around him, familiar voices speaking out. When he tried to open his eyes, he found the task impossibly challenging. He fought against the voice telling him to rest a little longer, that he didn't have to wake quite yet, but Qui-Gon had always been a stubborn one, unwilling to follow orders he deemed unnecessary.

"Master!"

When light began to fill his vision, Qui-Gon looked into the face of his worried Padawan, missing his braid and looking as distraught as Qui-Gon had seldom seen him before.

"Obi-Wan?" he tried to say, but his voice wasn't cooperating, so whatever left his mouth, it couldn't have been his apprentice's name.

"It's me, Master, yes." Obi-Wan understood him anyway, clever and wise as he was. Qui-Gon had given his Padawan a much too difficult time when he had still been his student and not a Knight of his own regard. He could hardly imagine being any prouder of Obi-Wan than he already was

"Master Qui-Gon!"

His vision became clearer and allowed for him to see Anakin and Ahsoka sitting just beside him on the bed, Shmi behind them and there, right next to her—

"Master."

"Save your strength, Qui-Gon," his Master urged him. If Obi-Wan had looked distressed, Dooku appeared downright hysterical. Qui-Gon was quite ready to believe this was all a hallucination now. As far as he knew, his Master had sworn off returning to the temple for at least another decade and even if he were here, he certainly wouldn't seek out Qui-Gon, no matter how injured.

"Rest some more," the imitation of his Master said. For just the shortest of moments, Qui-Gon was reminded of the time he had been a youngling just a few months older than Anakin and Dooku, not even quite Obi-Wan's age then, had panicked over his sickness. It had only been a mild cold, not the blinding hot pain chaining him to the bed now, but Dooku had told him to rest then with just the same cadence and care.

"Everything will be better after you've slept."

The illusion said the same words as his Master had then and just for that alone, Qui-Gon was inclined to believe him, even if he couldn't sense him, sense any of them properly.

Qui-Gon didn't know how much time passed between the intervals he was actually closer to consciousness and those he was inaccessible to the world. It felt like centuries passed within the blink of an eye. Regardless, whenever he woke, Dooku was there, dutifully sitting at his side as if Qui-Gon were still a child. It was reassuring anyhow.

The morning Qui-Gon woke and didn't feel like he needed to drop right back to sleep, he was greeted by the image of Dooku reading while the children were playing some board games on the bed next to his.

Qui-Gon decided to observe them just a minute longer before he spoke up.

"Am I dreaming, Master?"

Dooku immediately dropped the datapad and the others stopped their game, Qui-Gon's voice breaking this strange atmosphere.

"Qui-Gon!" it came from all sides. "Are you alright?"

He felt half-blind as if he had lost a sense he had always taken for granted, but, staring into the guilt-ridden expression of Anakin, he realized that lying had never been easier. "Yes, of course. What did I miss?"

From the look his lineage was giving him, quite a lot.

Ahsoka was young, but she wasn't stupid.

"What happened?" she asked Obi-Wan. The real adults wouldn't tell her anything for sure, but Obi-Wan just might because he was Anakin's the same way she was Anakin's, and he was theirs, and that was all that mattered. "Anakin is different."

He was hurting, though he tried to hide it. His pain and his fear scared him, which in turn only upset Ahsoka. She wanted everyone to be happy and healthy, but the world had shifted when she hadn't been there and it hurt.

"I—" Obi-Wan hesitated, so Ahsoka crossed her arms in front of her chest like she had seen Shmi do when she wanted to know something and nobody was willing to tell her. It made Ahsoka feel taller and more grown-up. Obi-Wan would have to tell her the truth.

"I want to know," she repeated. "Now."

Obi-Wan studied her for a few moments longer, then he sighed. "Anakin did something very foolish and difficult and Qui-Gon did something just as stupid and now everything is a mess."

Ahsoka could tell that he was trying not to use big words with her, but it only felt like he was attempting to get away with saying less.

"What did they do?" Ahsoka asked. "I want to know."

The need was pulsating under her skin, edging her on, licking at her arms like hot flames, urging to demand and not stop until she had forced the truth from his mouth, the ugly thing that was closing his throat.

"Anakin saw something really, really bad and dark," Obi-Wan said. "So Qui-Gon helped him forget that."

"But isn't that good?"

Ahsoka thought it was. It should be. If Qui-Gon took away what had hurt Anakin, then Anakin was going to be better now. That was how helping others worked. The others always said so; Shmi did too. The more you helped, the more did the galaxy heal.

"Yes, technically speaking, but… You know how the Force gives us warnings?"

Yes, of course, she did. Everyone always said to listen to the Force for their knowledge, but the Force had never warned her before she had stubbed her toe, so she wasn't entirely sold on that yet.

"The memories Qui-Gon hid from Anakin were such a warning, so now we don't know what the Force was warning us from and since they are so well hidden to protect him, Anakin won't be able to recognize the danger again when he sees it."

Oh. That really did sound bad. "Did he anything do something stupid then to get back the memories?"

Obi-Wan shook his head. "No, Anakin decided to break the Force a little to keep Qui-Gon here longer."

Ahsoka wondered whether that was the reason Qui-Gon's wound was healing so slowly and no pain medication truly helped. He tried to hide it, but Ahsoka's nose and eyes were better than humans'. She saw him tense, could smell the sickness. Ahsoka bit her lip. "Is that why Qui-Gon's Force is all messed up?"

She didn't know how to describe it in a better way. It felt a little as if Qui-Gon was made up out of strings and someone had cut them and then tied the ropes back together clumsily in haste, leaving a net that could catch his soul, but was incredibly messy.

"A little. There's no telling what messing around with the Force like Anakin did."

(And they wouldn't know for a long while what it meant to force something to live. No matter how good the intentions at that moment, the residue of his actions left Maul awake, alive, alight in the dark side, and screaming.)

"Is he going to be okay again?" Ahsoka asked.

When Obi-Wan didn't reply immediately, she climbed back into his lap and let him wrap his arms around her. Jedi were the happiest when they weren't cold, and her family felt as if they needed a lot of warmth.

"I hope so," Obi-Wan replied. "I really do hope so."

For the first time since he had gotten his first gray hair, Qui-Gon actually felt old. He was tired all the time and his control over the Force was atrocious and depended on the time of day, what he had eaten for breakfast, the weather, and whether somewhere halfway across Coruscant somebody had totaled their Speeder, or so it felt to him at least. There was no rhyme or rhythm to whether he could use the Force at all and what his control over it was, not even as his body recovered.

His gut wound hadn't healed entirely yet, and he continued to be haunted by its phantom pains. He knew that it hurt Anakin, that he felt guilty, so Qui-Gon tried to avoid showing any of these weaknesses around the boy, but Anakin was an intelligent child and he noticed it anyway. Qui-Gon wondered if Anakin's sudden clinginess and paranoia resulted from his actions, actions he now had to justify himself for.

"Are you sure you wouldn't prefer to sit?" Plo asked.

Qui-Gon wanted to reply with words as sharp as the edge of a knife, but he shouldn't. Plo was asking him out of worry and because they were friends, not to belittle him or point out his discomfort to him.

"I'm quite sick of sitting and lying down," Qui-Gon confessed. It hurt to admit this weakness, was he fully his Master's Padawan in this aspect, and against what his heart was telling him, he forced himself to say it out loud. "But a chair would be appreciated."

They got a chair for him and so Qui-Gon sat in front of the assembled Council, laying his mind bare for them to see and judge.

"Obi-Wan's report states that Padawan Skywalker had a breakdown as you boarded the ship to Naboo again. Is this correct?"

"Yes."

"And following this breakdown, you put a heavy mind block on him. Is this true as well?"

"Yes," Qui-Go replied, or maybe it would be more correct to claim he apologized.

He didn't regret saving Anakin then. It had come at a high price, his own mind still bleeding where he had cut himself on the kyber crystals of Anakin's soul, but he regretted that it had come to this at all. Trifling with a mind like this was nothing that could be taken lightly, and had the Council not asked to see him, Qui-Gon would have accused them of negligence. "I saw no other choice."

"What did you saw in his mind that forced you to act like this?" Mace asked.

"I saw a reflection of his own state of being, I suppose." His words sounded stuporous, too carelessly chosen, but he didn't know how else to describe this feeling. The more he attempted to elaborate on what he had seen, the more he realized that their language lacked the terms he needed

"I don't think the Force was meant to be anything more than something that binds the world together," Qui-Gon declared. "But Anakin… His existence defies that. He is the Force incarnate and it hurts him, subconsciously. The Force is endless and in Anakin, they have to constrain themself to a body with mortal limits, a fact which unsettles him down to his core when he becomes aware of it. From my observations, which I fail to describe accurately here and I fear to share with the state of my own mind and control, merely having consciousness is unsuitable for a being such as Anakin. We have all heard the voice of the Force, its call and its will, but it doesn't want as we do, as mortals might."

"But Anakin does," Plo continued his thought. "So you have the Force turned sentient, which goes against everything they ever were before, and suddenly they have to deal with the fact that Anakin has wants and needs that go beyond that of his parent."

"Yes," Qui-Gon agreed. "I think – or at least the way Anakin perceived it – the Force is shackling themself with his existence, in his existence. He became aware of it through a factor I have not yet determined, and that resulted in his breakdown."

"And so you decided to cover up these shackles."

"I did."

It was the only way he could have stopped Anakin from self-destructing.

The Force had shifted for the third time in less than a decade after so many years of slowly eroding away.

It was strange. Where once it was clouded, twisted, and shadowed as his Master and his Master's Master had crafted it, there was a rift now, a clearing.

It was shedding light on objects that should not be seen.

Darth Sidious pulled the shadows closer around himself and, throwing one last glance at his Master's dead body, decided to investigate.

He had need for an apprentice.

#star wars #anakin skywalker #obi wan kenobi #qui gon jinn #shmi skywalker #count dooku #fanfic

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typewrittenluck · 3 years

Text

Sorry General

AN: Okay hehe this is my first time ever posting a fic so be nice :/. It’s basically just self-indulgent Obi-Wan angst-fluff because I miss him and I’m excited for the new show. This takes place during The Clone Wars, Season 2, Episode 10. But you don’t have to watch it to understand what’s going on. Anyways enjoy!

Word Count: 2130

Warnings: None, Anakin being a lil’ shit

(gif creds to owner)

General Grievous had escaped yet again. It seemed as if every time the Jedi came close to capturing the sleaze ball, he would slip right through your hands. You could sense the tension in the air as everyone onboard the landing craft shared your anxiety, which increased your frustration by every person that you could feel through the force. It of course didn’t help that you were sent down to capture Grievous with none other than Obi-Wan Kenobi, who always had a knack for making you agitated.

As soon as the ship's doors opened, you began to take long strides out, already beginning to scope out the area and make mental notes of factors that might be influential to your mission.

At General Kenobi’s command, you and the troops began to move towards the wreckage of Grievous’s ship in hopes of finding something that would lead you to the General himself.

After scouting out the ship, Rex determined that the General couldn’t have been far off.

“We’ll split into teams. Rex, take Jesse, Hardcase, Kix, and Y/N and search those wetlands.” Obi-Wan said, gesturing vaguely in your direction.

“Actually, Kenobi,” you spat, “Seeing as I am a General, and therefore rank above Captian Rex, I will lead the troops to conduct a search of the wetlands.”

“Oh, right, of course General Y/N. I wouldn’t want to undermine your notable past with leading battalions and strategy missions.” His voice dripped with sarcasm.

“Why I ought to-”

“Excuse me, Generals, if I may,” Rex stepped in between you two. “we really shouldn’t get distracted from the situation at hand.”

“Yes, of course Captain.” you replied, still glaring at Obi-Wan. “We should get going”

“Right. Cody, you, Crys, and I will pick it up from here.” said Obi-Wan. “Oh, and one more thing,” he said, turning to face you. “If you get a visual on General Grievous, for the love of the force Master Y/N, make contact before you make any rash decisions to engage.”

“From the two of us, Master Kenobi,” you replied, “It is not I who have a track record of making rash decisions.”

Once you were out of earshot, Cody spoke up. “Forgive me General, but you seem worried. I’m sure that General Y/N and Rex are capable of handling this. They are both very wise individuals.”

Obi-Wan stroked his beard, apparently deep in thought. “Yes. Wise indeed.”

-----------------------

You felt a tug on the force and turned around just in time to see Rex get shot by a Commando droid.

“REX!” you screamed, as you and the clones rushed over to him.

Jesse and Hardcase finished off the last few droids before joining the small crowd gathering around Rex. It was deemed that the safest plan was to find shelter for the night, so that Rex could heal.

You and the clones made sure that Rex was as comfortable as possible and well-taken care of in the barn that you had secured a place in before you hopped on your speeders and continued your search of the wetlands.

“General, if it’s not too personal to ask, why do you and General Kenobi seem to fight about everything?” Jesse piped up after a little while.

“That is an extremely inappropriate question to ask your commanding officer soldier.” you snapped back.

“Right. Sorry.”

But it was too late. The question opened the floodgates that you worked so hard to keep closed. The overpowering emotions that you trapped behind a wall came rushing out and now, that was all that you could think about.

The constant questions. Why did Obi-Wan hate you? Why did he feel like you were inferior? Why is he so adamant that you shouldn’t be in charge of battles?

The constant anxiety. What if it’s a reflection of what the council thinks of me? What if everyone else feels that way too and they are just better at hiding it? What if I pass on my incompetence to my Padawan?

And above all, the crippling guilt. You were guilty because you felt responsible for him not liking you. You felt guilty because you broke the code. You felt guilty. Because you loved Obi-Wan Kenobi.

---------------------------------

Obi-Wan had been a Padawan for a mere two weeks, when a young girl from Dantooine had opened the doors to the Jedi temple, leading the way for an amused group of older Jedi. She had begun her training not long thereafter. On her first day, she walked into the training room and looked around, scoping out the area to decide where she would be comfortable. To Obi-Wan’s surprise, she picked a spot next to him.

Since that fateful day, their friendship blossomed, mainly due to the fact that their masters, Qui Gon Jinn and Ki-Adi-Mundi, were good friends. Obi-Wan and Y/N became very close. Closer, in fact, than any member of the Jedi order should become to another lifeform. But it was inevitable. The two were so alike and their personalities clashed together perfectly, as if the force had made it so that the two would meet. All of the older Jedi sensed the rising emotions in the two young apprentices, and they felt the need to take preventative measures. So when a mission with an indefinite length popped up on the faraway land of Mandalore, the council saw it as the best opportunity to give the two a break from each other. They sent Obi-Wan on a year long trip to ensure the safety of Mandalores sovereign ruler, Satine Kryze.

Y/N spent her time away from her best friend meditating on her emotions, and came to the conclusion that she had fallen for him. It was against the code. It was against her plan. But she had fallen, and fallen hard.

Obi-Wan ended up with a similar conclusion, after realizing that his emotions towards Satine were anything but new feelings, and he had experienced those same emotions a hundred times stronger towards Y/N.

The problem was that the two apprentices dealt with their feelings in completely different ways. Y/N became awkward and always on edge, and Obi-Wan saw it best to cut her out of his life as much as possible.

Which led them to where they were now. Grown members of the Jedi order who were still harboring childhood crushes on each other, buried deep, deep down.

--------------------------------------------

You were cut out of your train of thought by Obi-Wans voice.

“Captain Rex, come in please.”

“This is Y/N, Rex was injured.” you replied, still a little dazed by your sudden surge of emotion.

“What’s his condition?”

“He’ll be fine, but we had to find him shelter for the night.”

“Grievous is on the move. We’re headed to the West.” said Obi-Wan. “Swing around and we can meet up at the final escape pod. We’re going to need all of the firepower that we can muster.”

“Alright, we’re on our way.” you said, sharply turning your speeder around as the clones did the same.

--------------------------------------------

You arrived at Obi-Wans position just as you saw a ship attempting to land. You ran into the fray of flying bullets and disembodied droid limbs, jabbing and parrying with your lightsaber to get to Obi-Wan.

“Concentrate your fire on that ship!” he roared to the tanks.

He got distracted by his wrist-com and didn't see a laser ray coming straight at the back of his neck.

“Keep firing. Don't let that ship land.” he said, as you jumped behind him, drawing your lightsaber to deflect the bullet. He seemed shocked by your sudden appearance.

“I believe a thank you, Master Y/N, is in order.” you dead-panned.

He rolled his eyes, but mumbled an unintelligible thanks.

“The guns are overheated!” you heard a clone say from his wrist-com.

“It’s always something.” Obi-Wan grumbled in response. “Cody, Jesse, cover me!”

“Wait!” you exclaimed after him. “Where are you- oh nevermind.” you sighed as you saw him speed towards Grievous. You sprinted after him, knowing that he would need help.

He began fighting the foul droid General, their battle just a blur of blue and green light.

Just as you arrived at the fight, Grievous was climbing up the side of the ship. “Forget trying to land.” he growled in his raspy voice. You, however, were preoccupied with Obi-Wan who was knocked to the side. He groaned as you knelt by him, reaching feebly behind you as you heard Grievous say “Fire the engines.”

He was lifted into the night sky, narrowly dodging clone bullets as he laughed maniacally. “Jedi scum!”

“Are you alright?” you asked him.

“No.” he sighed in frustration. “We’re right back where we started!”

He called back to Cody. “Call the cruisers, see if they can stop that ship! And tell them to send someone to pick us up.”

You sensed his frustration and heard the defeat in his voice.

“Obi-Wan,” you started tentatively.

“What?” he snapped, his anger evident.

“I know it seems like a total failure-”

“Oh but it is!” he cut you off with contempt. “I’ve lost countless troops, just trying to capture Grievous, and now he’s right there. And I let him slip right past my fin-”

“No!” you cut him off this time. “This kind of talk is what leads to anger. You and I both know that anger leads you down the path of the dark side. This isn’t your fault Obi-Wan.”

Calling him by his first name is what, over all the other things, seemed to get through his head. “You don’t,” he stopped, looking into your eyes. “Blame me?”

And in that moment, standing in an empty battlefield in the middle of Saleucami, you both knew that he was talking about much more than this lost battle.

“You’ve done all that you can do. You did what you thought was right.” you replied.

He opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by Cody, saying that the transport had arrived to take you all back to the main ship. You two held eye contact for a brief moment before turning and heading in the direction that Cody had gone.

----------------------------------

You stood in the bridge, looking out of the enormous window with Admiral Yularen right beside you. A droid came up behind you two and tapped you on the shoulder.

“Jedi Master Y/N, Jedi Master Obi-Wan requests your presence.”

“How is he?” you asked.

“He is doing well! He has sustained only minor injuries and will heal very soon!” the droid replied chirpily.

“That’s a relief. Where does he want me to meet him?”

“His private quarters, I believe.”

“Top secret Jedi business, I presume.” chuckled Yularen as you blushed a bright red. You had a sneaking suspicion that this had nothing to do with the Jedi order.

-----------------------------------

“Y/N.” He greeted you, bowing his head and using the force to close the door behind you.

“Obi-Wan.”

“I’m sorry.” he blurted, taking you a little by surprise by his bluntness. “I know that I confused you and I make you feel unwanted at times and I am the reason our friendship was ruined and I promise I have an explanation which is no excuse but you deserve to know why I-” he stopped rambling when he saw your raised eyebrows and caught himself.

He took a deep breath before beginning again.

“I had a lot of time to think when I was on Mandalore. But I kept thinking about the same thing. You. I couldn’t stop. And it was all that got me through each day, the thought of your face, and your smile, and your laugh. But that’s against the code. And the only way that I could get over you was to cut you off. But it didn’t work because by the stars and the planets Y/N, I love you. I care deeply for Jedi traditions and maintaining the code, but I love you Y/N. I’m sorry.”

“Oh Obi,” you sighed, stepping closer to him. “I realized it same as you. We have been drawn to each other since we met. It’s almost as if the force wanted us to be. And every day since that day that you left for Mandalore, I have looked at the sunrise, hoping that one day, it will bring light to what we once had.” You placed your hand on his scruffy cheek and stroked his jaw as he leaned into your touch. “I love you too.”

He pulled you into a hug, burying his face into your hair as you wrapped your arms tightly around his waist.

“Master- Oh! Sorry!” Anakin walked in, making you and Obi-Wan leap to opposite sides of the room, both of you burning a bright crimson color. Anakin’s eyes darted between the two of you, a smirk growing on his face.

“Not a word, Anakin.” Obi-Wan said sternly, already having an idea of the things that he knew that his former Padawan would say.

AN Again: I just really want a hug from this man

#star wars #Clone Wars #obi wan fluff #obi wan kenobi #obi wan fic #obi wan x reader #obi wan imagine

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jimlingss · 4 years

Text

A Promise of Freedom

↳ This oneshot is a continuation of this drabble

➜ Words: 8.8k

➜ Genres: 60% Angst, 40% Fluff, Wartime!AU

➜ Summary: War is cruel and its inhumanity has not spared you. Captured by the enemy, you were brought to the front lines to heal their wounded. But after one night of saving a particular man’s life, he swears to fulfill any wish of yours.

“What do I do?” It’s a question you’re frequently asked and you’re never quite sure how to answer. Everyone thinks you have the solution, that you can bring the dead back to life, that you can rescue the wounded. But you aren’t god. You don’t have healing hands. Even if they point their guns at you, you don’t have the powers of revival. Most often than not, it’s your body that’s moving on its own from muscle memory and sheer adrenaline than having a moment to sit still and truly think. If you had a moment to think anyways, it wouldn’t certainly be about healing the enemy. “Doctor!” You’re called by the young boy with watery eyes, a poor apprentice trying to learn from you. You wonder what he did wrong to be brought to the front lines with such little medical knowledge, but you haven’t had the strength to develop a deep enough relationship to ask and pry. Everyone had their own stories of being here. Yours is one you don’t really want to think about. “Give me the scissors, quickly.” It’s another night without sleep — one where you’re at others beck and call, too few materials and resources and much too many wounded and moaning out for their loved ones. You don’t know how to fix an arm that’s been detached, heal someone’s face that has melted in fire, put back the pieces of someone who’s stepped on a grenade. You don’t know what to do. They should’ve killed you instead. “Are you alright?” You’re asked in the midst of the chaos by a man with doe eyes who’s clutching his chest that’s been bandaged underneath the loose shirt that he wears. He grips the door frame of where his room is at the back, a quiet sanctuary meant for his alone. You barely have time to look at Corporal Jeon when you’re tending to an infected solder’s gash. The nurse beside you, on the other hand, is distracted by his presence. Admittedly, he has a striking appearance when washed and not on the battlefield and a naturally commanding aura. “You shouldn’t be standing, Corporal.” You turn to the nurse, capturing her attention again. “Please see what medication is left. It should be in the top drawer of the second cabinet.” She nods and stands to rush to the back area. He looks around the room to the nurses flurrying about, each calling you for different reasons. “Is there anything I can do for you?” “There is nothing,” you say sadly, eyes meeting his before the nurse returns and you give further instructions. It’s not until an hour before dawn where things have settled and you step away. There’s always more that you can do — but you’ve quickly learnt that there’s little that you can do to actually help. You can't perform miracles. All you know is how to apply the knowledge you’ve been taught and try to make use of the tools around you to stitch together what’s been torn apart. And in the moment that you have time, you return to the sanctuary of your most important patient. Arguably, your favourite. “Did you get any sleep yet?” he asks the moment you enter. “I will later.” “You could always sleep here if you need to.” At the way you look at him, the man quickly adds, “If your own place is inadequate.” A smile forms at your lips, one that he barely sees when you dip your head. “Thank you for your consideration, Corporal.” You approach and begin unbuttoning his shirt without asking to check his bandages. It’s quiet, intimate even. You aren’t ignorant to the way he stares at you, how his breath seems to slow, but you focus on your task and find the wound’s closed up nicely. “It’s looking better. You might be able to return soon, but you still need to take it easy.” “Are you tired?” Your eyes flicker up and you assure him, “I can handle more than you think I can.” “It’s not that I doubt your abilities. I know you are capable.” “Good.” A smile comes across your face — you didn’t think you could remember how to smile until you met him. “I once ran through the forest, sprained my ankle and sliced open my leg but healed myself with the things around me. Of course, I was caught. Evidently. But I survived, didn’t I?” You’re not sure at what cost, but it is what it is. “You’re brave,” Jungkook says as you wrap his chest again and he lifts his arms slightly to give you room to. “You would’ve made a better soldier than I.” You scoff lightly. “You flatter me.” His eyes search your expression. “I am sincere.” “And that’s what makes it difficult,” you murmur, incidentally leaning close to his body when you pull the bandages around his backside. “My mother once told me to stay away from men like you.” The corner of Jungkook’s mouth curls. “Men like me?” You stand, putting away the materials that have been pulled from their place by the frantic nurses from earlier. He watches your backside as you organize. “Men who know how to speak well.” “I am a man of my word. I keep my promises,” he insists and then lightens the mood with a quip— “I am sure your mother would find me a very proper young man.” “Perhaps. But that’s if my mother is still alive.” At once the tension returns, but it’s darker and solemn. It’s a reality that you’ve long come to terms with, not knowing if your family is dead or alive, but clearly one that Jungkook is not used to by his expression. You clear the lump in your throat, changing the topic before exhaustion overwhelms you and you begin to cry. “Would you like to go outside? You’ve been stuck in this room for a long time. I can help you.” “I would love to.” It’s a brief period where the sky has begun to lighten up but the darkness has yet to be dispelled away. You can still see the night sky and the numerous stars that take their place above. Jungkook’s arm is wrapped around your shoulder, leaning onto you slightly with another hand pressing to his chest. You make sure to keep your own arm secure around his torso to help hold him up. But it doesn’t stop you from gazing at the horizon, taking in the scene and breathing in the fresh air instead of the scent of sticky iron. “You know, I never got to see the stars like this.” When you turn your head, your eyes meet with Jungkook’s. “Back where I used to live, there were too many lights to see them.” He hums but doesn’t gaze at the stars like you do. He instead pins his eyes to your profile. “Well, when you’re in the middle of nowhere, it’s easy to see the stars.” He smiles when you do. “You’re right.” // There are little freedoms that you have. Not that you expected much in the middle of warfare. But often times you might be standing still for a moment, trying to feel the rumble of the faraway explosions of the battlefield not far from where you are or watching the way the smoke of fires curl in the air, only to be pushed aside and told to move along. The price of keeping you alive after all is that you keep your head down and work as fast as possible, as good as possible. You are the only doctor here — the only one that they could keep in this place. But ever since Jungkook’s arrival, he’s given you something that money can’t buy. Moments. He’s given you small moments that keep your sanity above water, small moments that you’ve begun to cherish and long for during difficult times. Where you don’t have to be pushed into the face of the wounded and the crying, told to fix them without knowing how. With Jungkook’s position, no one dares to shove you in his presence. “How could you hate sweets?” You’re absolutely appalled and the man grins, front teeth peeking out and eyes crinkling. It makes him appear like his actual age for once and not a worn down soldier that’s a few decades from retirement. “I just prefer savoury foods.” “But you don’t like chocolates?” Jungkook hums. “Not particularly.” It’s a terribly petty and mundane conversation, but a kind that you don’t have often. You shake your head in disapproval and it only rouses more chuckles from him. “Officer Jeon!” The banter is interrupted by a young soldier, no more than eighteen, running his way and waving an envelope. “You have a letter from General Min.” “Thank you.” He receives it and the soldier salutes him before moving on his way. Jungkook rips it open and his eyes skim along the lines. Once finished, he finds you with a raised brow. “Officer Jeon? I thought you were a Corporal.” The corner of his mouth curls. “You must’ve read my badges wrong.” You think back to them but are unable to recall. He hasn’t worn his jacket since he arrived here and when he did, you merely had a second to glance at them, only knowing he was important enough to warrant his own doctor and room. “Why didn’t you ever correct me?” He looks over the horizon, a smile still placed on his features. “It’s kind of nice to hear that I’m a corporal again. Fewer responsibilities,” he murmurs, so quietly that you almost miss it. Then he smiles. “Why don’t you just call me Jungkook?” His eyes meet yours. “But isn’t that improper? Won’t I get into trouble?” “Then you can call me that when we’re in private. It’s been a long time since someone’s called me casually, and I’d like to call you by your name too instead of doctor. You’re more than that, right, Y/N?” A light scoff spills out of you but you don’t hate the idea. In this place, they’ve only ever called you by doctor. To hear the syllables of your name fall from his lips, your ears tickle. It’s been so long that it almost sounds foreign to you. You forgot that’s what your name sounded like. “Okay, Jungkook.” You nod, giving into his will and his boyish grin spreads into his cheeks. Your eyes flicker down to the paper he still holds. “What did the letter say?” “Oh.” He’s taken from the moment, lips slowly falling again. “I’m being called back.” You don’t say a word, neither one of comfort or acknowledgment. It was inevitable after all. These moments are just that — moments. Tiny increments of time that are fleeting. But you know you’ll miss his company when he leaves. Jungkook has been the only one who has treated you so well.

Life continues on with or without Jungkook — something you come to terms with easily when there’s so much to do. But that doesn’t mean his presence isn’t missed. You discover yourself staring at the doorway to the back often as if waiting for him to emerge, grip the wooden frame for leverage and give a soft smile from across the room. Other times it’s when you're grabbing syringes or bandages that you shift around as if expecting him to be laying on the bed in the corner watching you. It’s not until someone calls you urgently that your trance is shattered. You can only sigh when those memories resurface. They’ll always be fond to you — you’ll always be fond of Jungkook. But you try to not miss him. The two of you lead different lives after all and you don’t expect to see him ever again. You don’t expect him to return. You don’t want him to return. Doing so would mean he’s injured. Any day that you don’t see him is a lucky one. “Who’s the doctor here?!” a soldier bellows from the entrance and all the nurse’s heads swivel towards you. He approaches and hands you an envelope. You notice that it’s been open and likely read. “It’s a letter from Officer Jeon.” “T-Thank you.” The soldier walks away and you stare at it for a second before slipping it in your pocket, opting to read it later in private without the prying eyes of the nurses and apprentice. And it’s the next day before dawn that you’re finally able to have some time to yourself. At first, it’s puzzling. Jungkook’s letter is short and dry with brief sentences. He tells you that your instructions and ointment works well, that his wound is perfectly healed and that he sleeps well these days. But you begin to understand when he tells you that he’s had a dream recently. A dream about going to a place with so many lights that you could never see the stars. He’s coming for you. You can read in between the lines and you know. But you’re uncertain of his methods, when or how, merely that he’s going to keep his word and get you out of this place. And that alone is enough to give you the strength to hold your head higher. // It’s a few weeks later that you’re suddenly shaken awake in the middle of the night. At first, you’re alarmed that someone’s in your tent. You wheeze, rushing upwards and afraid that this is it. You’ll be dragged out, executed because they don’t need you anymore, because the apprentice has finally learnt enough to take over your position. Or worse, they’ll have their fun with you before disposing your body and never allowing you to see the light of day again…. But a hand cups your mouth before you can scream. A familiar, soothing voice calls to you and you find doe eyes too tender to belong to a soldier. “It’s me. It’s okay.” You peel his palm off and his name stutters out of you like it’s a song you haven’t sung since childhood— “J-Jungkook?” He nods. “Are you ready to go?” “Right now?” your whisper is harsh as your eyes narrow in the darkness. The moonlight provides little light in your translucent tent. “There’s a boat leaving tomorrow off the West harbour with other refugees. It’ll take a day to get there, but we can make it if we leave right now.” There’s too many questions to ask, too many things you want to say to him. But you don’t hesitate. You take his hand. Jungkook smiles and pulls you up to your feet. He gives you different clothes that you easily change into and asks if there’s anything you want to take. But they had burnt all your belongings when you were first captured, so with just the clothes on your back and a sack of stale bread, you and Jungkook evade the soldiers making their rounds and escape. He seems to know what direction he’s going in and walks in assurance. To you, it’s always been an abyss of nowhere. You’ve always known you wouldn’t have gotten far on your own. But with Jungkook, your desires may come to fruition. Still, you linger and look behind you when the camp becomes the size of your fingers. Jungkook notices that you’re dawdling and turns around. “What’s wrong?” “I just….wonder if it’s wrong for me to leave them behind for my own selfish reasons.” Your gaze meets his. “No one knows as much as I do. No one has as much medical knowledge. They might be my enemy, but they’re still people.” People that will die without your help. Suddenly, your thoughts are interrupted when Jungkook wraps his hand around yours. It’s a comforting squeeze that he gives, his eyes softened. “It’s okay to be selfish, you know.” There’s a second stolen, one where he allows you to make your own decision. Then you nod and your steps sync with his, making your way towards freedom. You can’t save everybody. But it’s time to save yourself. // The night is colder than you ever realized. You’re used to shivering under thin blankets or letting the chills creep through the tent walls while you work until dawn tending to the wounded. But being out in the open, underneath the stars and trekking through the forest reminds you of the night before you were captured. For a moment, you wonder if this is a trap. In the short time that you’ve gotten to know Jungkook, you’ve come to find that he’s righteous and full of honour. There’s no reason why he should help you and in turn sabotage his people. But you trust him. Perhaps it’s naive, but the last dwindling hope you have has been placed on him. And if you die, then that’s fine too. You’ve run from death long enough. “Are you okay?” he asks, shattering the silence and brushing away some branches in your path. “I’m fine. You don’t have to worry about me.” “You can tell me if you’re tired. We can stop if you’d like or we can slow down.” “Are you underestimating me, Jungkook?” A tiny smile finds its place on your features, lightening the mood and the corners of his mouth curls too. “I just don’t want you to try to endure it, Y/N. You can lean on me if it’s difficult.” He is gentle, more than what you’re used to for someone who fights on the battlefield and gives orders for others to slaughter your people. “As I thought, you’re good at sweet-talking, aren’t you, Jungkook?” Your quip draws a sigh out of him. “I mean it though.” “I know. Doesn’t mean it isn’t sweet.” Just as he has offered, you lean in closer to him to keep warm. “You don’t seem much like an officer, Jungkook.” He grins. “Then what do I seem like?” “A young man,” you say, turning to him. “Maybe someone I would’ve met back in my town.” Jungkook hums and the two of you quietly wonder what that would’ve been like. If your people weren’t at war with one another, if you had lived near each other and met during a time of peace. It’s a sad hypothetical, one you wish would be real but it’s just that — a hypothetical. // When daylight breaks through the horizon and you take a break to rest your feet, you realize the air has become salted. The humidity makes the sweat stick to your skin, your hair clumped together, the moisture making it harder to breathe. “We’re getting close,” Jungkook tells you. “It should be another hour before we’re there.” “How’d you even know that they’ll be a boat of refugees there?” “Things trickle down the grapevine and you hear them when you’re in the position that I’m in.” He smiles. “It came up when I was doing some digging.” “You didn’t get in trouble?” you ask, still not knowing how he managed to even get to you. But Jungkook merely shakes his head. “It’s nothing you need to worry about.” The pair of you reach the end of the forest in the next hour, a place where the trees have stopped growing and the slope morphs to dirt then sand. You can see the blue-gray ocean that morphs into the dark skies, the tides kissing upon shore and bubbles fizzing in sea foam. But before you call Jungkook in excitement, have the moment where liberation has dawned upon you, there’s a shout— “Stop!” Two soldiers stand with their hands on their machine guns, wearing camouflage-patterned uniforms that blend in with the surrounding foliage. You’ve been caught. Just like that, the opportunity has been yanked out from under your feet. It’s the end. But before you can even react, Jungkook pulls you behind him. His spine straightens and head lifts as if to show the medals on his uniform. “Stand down!” “Sir!” The two of them immediately salute Jungkook and your fingers clutching his sleeve only tightens. “We received orders to patrol the area for enemies looking to flee. We did not know you would be here.” One of the soldier’s leans over to take a look at you, but you dip your head and hide behind Jungkook. “These are not matters pertaining to you. Unless you want to interfere with top secret matters.” “O-Of course not.” The two soldiers salute Jungkook, but as they leave, one of the soldier’s glances over his shoulder and his eyes connect with yours, menacing and full of suspicion. Jungkook takes your hand, leaving in the opposite direction to draw distance between the soldiers you narrowly escaped. But then you hear the distant static of a radio. There’s murmuring, akin to a report being made and then shots are fired. “He’s deserted his post!” Deserted? The bullets cut through the wind, explosions that you heard from afar happening right next to your ears. They hit against the trees and the dirt, narrowly missing you and Jungkook, but close enough to make you wince. His hand on you tightens as you both run through the forest, past branches and ditches, away from the beach that was supposed to liberate you. And your head turns to look at him as you wobble away from the projectiles, realizing that Jungkook’s gone awol. There’s little you can say when you’ve both finally lost the soldiers, trying to catch your breaths and slow down your pulse that’s moved up and clogged your throat. “D-Did you get hit?” It’s the first question you ask when you’ve both collapsed on the ground. Jungkook inspects himself and you before taking a sigh of relief. “No.” “Y-You abandoned your post, Jungkook?” “Yeah….” He deflates, doe eyes connected to yours. He wears an expression of heavy guilt and conflict, one that warns you not to pry. “I did.” // The plan has failed, but Jungkook hasn’t given up. Far from it when he spreads out his map and tells you that evening, “We can take the inland road, cut through the forest this way and make it to the border here. No one’s guarding this part of the wall during this time of the year — the army didn’t want to spread their troops thin.” “That’s far,” you murmur, realizing that it’s half across the region. You’ve tried making it over the border once with your family, but you failed. You were caught, taken away, spared while the fate of your family remains unknown. The thought of trying again makes you feel uneasy. But Jungkook turns to you. “It’ll take five days if we can keep up our pace.” His eyes are full of consolation and warmth, dispelling your doubts away. “I’ll take you there.” And you wonder if you’re an idiot for believing in him. The journey is as hard as you had remembered. The slope is steep, full of branches and pits. Sometimes you’re sure that Jungkook is lost in the forest with the way he glances at the map every so often and his brows furrow, but he never tells you, trying to keep morale high. And when you follow him, staring at the back of his head as sweat drips off your face, you wonder why he’s going to such lengths to save you. Why he’s abandoned his high rank and position to bring you to the border. Surely, it has to be more than just about keeping his word…. The two of you stop once in a while for a drink of water and to rest your feet. He claims that he’s tired, but you’re sure he’s relenting and slowing down for you. His consideration isn’t difficult to discern. But when night falls, camp is sent permanently. It’s impossible to keep moving no matter how much you want to. “This is a good spot.” Jungkook says, looking down at some soft moss around a tree. “But we can’t build a fire. Someone might see the smoke.” “Okay.” You nod, getting comfortable and ripping some of the bread to share between you and Jungkook. It’s stale and tough to bite into, doing little to satisfy the hunger bubbling within your stomach, but still better than nothing. After you’re finished eating, the two of you get settled. “You should rest.” Jungkook says, “We’ve been walking for more than twelve hours.” “But what about you? You’ve been walking too.” “I can keep watch.” “Are you sure?” The man nods, his smile tender. “You can keep watch later if you’d like.” With that said, you lean against the tree trunk, shutting your eyes. It’s hard to get sleep when your mind is racing, when the stakes are so high and you feel guilty for trying to rest while Jungkook, who’s equally exhausted as you are, is forced to be awake. But you manage to drift on from sheer fatigue. You dream of running through the thick forest with Jungkook. The soldiers at your heels. The bullets spraying past. Except this time, he’s hit and screams out in agony while you’re yanked back— You’re shaken awake by the sound of leaves crunching. Jungkook notices the way you rub your eyes tiredly before staring up at the sky and realizing it's still night. It only seems like two hours have passed at most. Yet he acts like it’s daybreak now, holding onto branches and collecting them into a pile not far from the tree. “Am I being too noisy?” he murmurs softly, not to startle you. “I’m sorry.” “N-No, it’s okay. What are you doing?” “I’m building a fire,” he says while arranging the branches. “But I thought you said it was too risky.” “Yeah, but you were shivering.” “I was…?” It was true that you were cold, that the chills of the night have settled within your bones and while you tried to hide it, you didn’t know it slipped in your unconsciousness. Jungkook’s smile is coloured with sorrow and his hands quicken to make the fire, but you stop him. “We shouldn’t risk it, Jungkook. What if we’re caught again?’ “We won’t be,” he insists and you realize he has a habit of assuring things out of his control. He only stops once you’ve stood up and grabbed a hold of his hand, startling him with your sudden touch. Before he can ask what’s wrong, his question is answered when he sees your anxious expression lit by the dim moon, the way your mouth lopsides and brows knit together. Jungkook sighs and relents. “How about a compromise then?” It’s a few minutes later that both you and him are leaning against the tree with your knees gathered to your chest and your weight pressed against his. Jungkook has his arm wrapped around your shoulder, tugging you close so his body heat can keep you from shivering. It might be inappropriate — for someone like you and him to be this close during the night, for it to be this intimate. But you can’t find yourself to be bothered with formalities. Not when his embrace gives you so much solace. “You should try to get some rest,” you murmur and Jungkook hums. “I’ll keep watch.” The forest is serene. It’s excluded from the warfare and trenches, the explosions and shooting. A sanctuary spared of violence and greed. You almost wish you could stay here longer, but it would be avoiding the inevitable. No matter how well you hide, they’ll find you. But they might not be able to catch up if you run fast enough… You listen to how Jungkook’s breathing slows, his chest rising and falling steadily. And when his grip around your shoulders loosens, his head starts to droop. You gently guide him to rest on your shoulder and smile at how boyish his features really are in such a neutral state. But it doesn’t last long. Soon enough, his brows are twitching and his fingers jerk as if he’s pulling a trigger. Jungkook begins to murmur underneath his breath as well and stirs no matter how hard you try to comfort him. His spasms only increase in intensity and then he’s screaming— “Jungkook!” You’re startled when he pushes himself away from you, crazed like an animal. He pants, eyes wide and your hands lift, trying to calm him down. “It’s okay. It was just a nightmare. You’re okay.” “I….” He looks around at where he is and then slumps. “I’m sorry.” “Your nightmares never got better?” Jungkook shakes his head and returns to your side, exhaling deeply. “No, they didn’t.” “Why did you tell me they did? I could’ve—” “I had to leave anyway. It wouldn’t have mattered and I didn’t want to worry you.” It goes quiet. You’re not sure what to say, how to soothe him or make it better. You don’t know what to do, even though you feel like you should. But you can’t perform miracles. You aren’t god. You don’t have healing hands...in spite of wanting to — for the first time. You wish you were what everyone made you out to be. You wish the skills that saved you from slaughter were as valuable as they had thought. Jungkook is the one who shatters the silence. “I received orders once.” “You received orders?” You shift, unable to understand but he nods. “May sixth at nine in the morning. I received orders that the army was hiding in Hua Xin village. I ordered my men to go in and we killed everyone,” he murmurs, each syllable laying heavily on his tongue. “Anyone who looked normal was actually a soldier in disguise. Anyone who didn’t look like a soldier was hiding one. That’s what we were told. But halfway, I realized no one was fighting back. It’s not that they were unprepared. They were civilians.” “Not one soldier was there.” Jungkook bitterly laughs. “Not a single one. And I couldn’t stop it. It…..it was a massacre.” All at once, he breaks out into sobs. Jungkook’s head knocks back, eyes tilted up at the sky as tears slip down his cheeks and you stay motionless. “I led my men to do it. They were people like you — children, women, the elderly. They had nothing to do with it. They were telling us to have mercy, to stop, and I couldn’t do anything.” It hadn’t made sense to you before, not when he had wanted to return to the field so desperately when you had first met him, when you had known first hand that he would not abandon his own men. But Jungkook’s guilt has outweighed his duty. His promise to you has taken his highest priority. It’s why he’s left his post. Why he’s abandoned his men and thrown away his honour, how he got hurt in the first place and ended up in your hands. Why he feels so desperate to help you. It’s to make up for what he’s done. Jungkook cries pathetically and you imagine if it was your mother. Or a friend that was killed by him. A senseless death made by the mistake of the enemy. A part of you itches to hate Jungkook, to detest his entire being and enact revenge, to gain retribution for those victims. To reduce him as your opposition like many of your own people have. But you can’t. Not when you know him. His habits and personality traits. His experiences and regrets. You can’t turn a blind eye to what you know of this young man. You can't hate Jungkook. Not when you have known his humanity first hand. “The fact that you feel remorse is enough to know that you’re not a monster, Jungkook,” you whisper into the night that creeps towards you. “It wasn’t intentional.” “Think of them the next time you’re on the field. You might not know who they are, but they were people too. And memory is what keeps them alive.” You’ve always wondered who would kill you. There are times you’ve shut your eyes and envisioned the end of a barrel and a cold gaze. But you don’t want to be a faceless target or an increase in their personal number of casualties. You want the person to kill you to remember you. That night, you dream of the blazing sun hot against the back of your neck and lifting your face to see a trembling muzzle and doe eyes glossy with tears. But it isn’t a nightmare. Far from one. It wouldn’t be so bad if Jungkook was the one who killed you. It would be better than a soldier who doesn’t know your name. // “Look what I managed to catch.” Jungkook holds a big-eyed rabbit by its ears and you can only nod stiffly, not sure what to think when you’ve never actually caught an animal before. But it ends up sitting in your stomach well, satisfying your starvation after Jungkook’s taken care of preparing it and roasted it over the fire. The two of you are deep enough in the forest to finally be able to huddle around a flame for warmth without worry of soldiers catching sight of the smoke. When the meal is over, he takes out the map, studying it carefully and planning your next course of action. But as you sit with your knees gathered to your chest, staring at the tangerine flames flickering and glowing on your cheeks, you turn to notice Jungkook swaying in his spot. He’s startled when you lean over, pressing your palm to his forehead. “W-What’s wrong?” “You’re warm, aren’t you?” “It’s from the fire.” You merely hum, pulling yourself back from him. “But you’re sweating. I’m not. Does your body ache?” Jungkook is baffled as he watches you get up, suddenly looking around at the bushes. “Only because we’ve been walking all day. But I’m fin—Hey! Where are you going? It’s dark!” “I’ll be right back.” You smile easily as if this is your own backyard. “Don’t go anywhere. You have a fever, Jungkook.” The officer scoffs lightly, keeping his eyes trained on you but still following your instructions not to stand. He’s not sure why it matters. He can still walk, can still move, think, breathe. If a small fever was enough to slow him down then he would’ve never made it as a soldier out on the field. He’s fought with his hand sliced open, with his ankle twisted, and with starvation making his stomach turn inside out. He’s a man. A man who’s stronger than— “Press this on your forehead.” You’ve returned when he’s snapped back to reality, a cool strip of cloth suddenly placed on his forehead. His fingers lift to keep it there as you walk towards the fire with your glass container of water. Jungkook’s eyes dart to the white flowers in your hands to your cloak ripped at the hem, realizing it's where you got the strip of cloth from. “The river is surprisingly warm. I thought it would’ve been colder.” Jungkook watches silently as you fiddle around and in the next five minutes, you’re returning with the warm container but with the liquid inside tinged green. “Drink this. It’ll keep you hydrated.” He sips it, feeling his body ease. “What is it?” “It’s made from elderflower. It’ll help with the fever. I need to check your wound though. Just to make sure there’s not an infection.” You sit down in front of him, beginning to undo the buttons of his shirt and he lets you, eyes heavy against your features but softened. “What if it is?” “Then we’re going to have some problems, Jeon.” The corner of your mouth tugs and he smiles. You’re bathing in the glow of the fire, the deep hue casted against your face and at this proximity, he’s able to count each of your lashes. “Let’s just hope it’s not.” It’s intimate. The way you take a sigh of relief when you find it isn’t an infection. The way you begin to button his shirt back together. The way the pair of you are inches away and he’s sure if he wrapped his arms around your waist, you’d collapse against his chest and he’d be able to hold you…. But he doesn’t move. And you pull away from him much too soon. “You should rest. I’ll keep watch.” “I’m fine,” he insists almost angrily. He doesn’t know why he’s suddenly so irritated. Maybe because you’re underestimating his strength. Maybe because he doesn’t know how to cope with these emotions swelling into his throat that makes it hard to speak properly. “I have been through worse. I’m supposed to be protecting y—” “And I’m supposed to tend to your well-being,” your voice raises and you stand, crossing your arms. “We all have our duties, Officer Jeon. How are you supposed to help me cross the border if you fall sick? You should be grateful I caught it early and it hasn’t gotten worse. A thank you would have sufficed.” “I’m sorry.” The apology spills out of him before he can think twice, before you can turn away from him completely. Jungkook diverts his vision, embarrassed at his outburst. “I didn’t mean it that way. I want you to stay with me.” He’s still pressing the cloth to his forehead with three fingers, hair damp from sweat, pupils shaking. You know much more about him than he intended for you to know. He’s made a mistake — showing you this much about him. It’s frightening to be hurt in this way, he realizes. He would have rather maintained the facade of a harsh officer than a powerless boy— Suddenly, you’ve plopped next to him and wrapped your arms around his body, guiding his head to your shoulder. Like how he had held you while you were shivering, it’s you who’s offering him warmth this time. Jungkook turns his head until his face is buried into your neck. He notices the way you tense and then ease, goosebumps raising all over your arms, but he doesn’t move. Jungkook steals the opportunity while he has the chance and neither of you speak. He doesn’t think he’s been held like this since he was a child. He hasn’t been taken care of by anyone other than his mother. He hasn’t had anyone care for him since he enlisted at eighteen. “Thank you.” // The sunlight pierces through your closed lids, shaking you awake. When you open your eyes blearily, it hits you that you’ve fallen asleep and that it’s day. More importantly, Jungkook isn’t by your side. You gaps, looking around before there’s a boyish chuckle to your left. “Mornin’, sleepy head.” He rolls up his map, tucking it into his pocket. “You were out like a light.” “You shouldn’t have let me sleep for so long.” You wobble upwards, getting onto your feet again. “Are you alright? You’re not supposed to be walking around yet.” “I feel fine,” Jungkook declares with a grin. “Promise. I felt normal again when I woke up. With your skills, that magical tea of yours and my great health, I’ve gotten better in no time.” His mischievous smile only garners a scoff from you but then his smile softens and his voice becomes gentle. “I won’t give up on my promise to you. I’ll get you there.” “I know, Jungkook.” Warm smiles are exchanged across the serene forest that’s waking up as the sunlight dances past the horizon and billows through the trees to turn darkness into verdant hues. And it’s not long before the beautiful scene is left behind and the trek continues on. “Can I ask you something?” “Depends on what that something is,” you reply playfully. Jungkook grins. “I’d love to know more about your home. Where you came from.” “Why?” “I’m curious.” The corner of your mouth twitches before it quirks into a faint smile. “I came from a small town. It doesn’t exist anymore but it was called Gaoling Village. It was between Nan Shan River and Senlin Mountain. Everyone knew everyone, but it was more hectic than you would think. Mostly because of my siblings though.” Jungkook notices your fond smile and asks, “How many siblings do you have?” “Two. A younger sister and brother. We were all trying to cross the border, but they went ahead with the group while I stayed behind with my mother. She was slower than the rest because of her bad feet….” “And your father?” “He passed away after being drafted from the previous war when I was fourteen.” You look beyond the horizon, where the forest meets the sky, wondering if the rest of your family is still alive or have been taken from you. After a moment, you clear your throat, changing the topic before you can start to cry. “It was unexpected and I needed a way to help support the family. Luckily, the medic of the village was kind enough to take me as an apprentice and that’s how I started to learn.” “That sounds...difficult,” Jungkook offers sympathy and you exhale with a gentle smile. “It was. But we managed,” you murmur. “It was better than being apart...” Jungkook hums, his expression thoughtful yet saddened by the implications of your words. But you try not to dwell on your regrets and you turn to him. “What about you? Where did you grow up? Did you have any siblings?” “No siblings. I was an only child. My parents moved around often, so I never really had a home. I went to school here and there and then enlisted when I was eighteen.” “Why?” “My dad and my uncles had enlisted and fought without having to be called, so when the war happened, I thought that naturally, I would enlist and climb the ranks too.” Jungkook rolls his tongue in his cheek and you’re not sure if he regrets his decision or the fact that he didn’t think it through enough. But you don’t pry or try to decipher his expression. Instead, he takes his turn and asks, “Did you have anyone special?” The corner of your mouth subtly pulls. “What do you mean by that?” The soldier coughs and scratches the back of his neck. He’s sheepish and you notice how his ears have gotten red. “Well, I mean if you had anyone else significant in your life….I’m just curious why you never got married and—” “No,” you answer. “There was no one like that.” Jungkook becomes visibly relieved and you hold in your giggles to not further his bashfulness. “Did you ever have anyone like that?” you inquire, throwing the question right back at him. The doe-eyed boy glances at you and then looks ahead, shrugging. “Maybe.” You scoff lightly. “I don’t know what that means.” “It means what it means.” A timid smile spreads into your face, one you keep to yourself but it’s noticeable and infectious enough that Jungkook’s own mouth tugs, a blush dusting onto his cheeks. He walks a bit ahead and your eyes pierce his backside. You don’t want this journey to end. // “We’re almost there—” he tells you a day later and you can only nod. When night arrives, the whistle of planes flying overhead and the subsequent explosions that follow seconds later echo through the forest. It rumbles the ground, vibrating underneath your feet as you wince and watch the smoke curl in the air. You wonder what they’ve bombed this time, if it’s a village or a town, a base or the army themselves. “Don’t worry. They’re far away.” But Jungkook’s reassurance does little when you’re already aware. They can’t hurt you. Only their noises can serve to haunt. In spite of the bombings, you and Jungkook try to get some rest. There’s merely one more day before the border will be reached and you will be free from this battlefield…. Right as you’re about to drift off, you feel the soft brush of a hand. With your eyes still kept shut, your palm gingerly uncurls and slides into Jungkook’s. Your fingers interlace together, his larger hand cradling yours and your palm squeezes his. Neither of you speak a word and you fall asleep that way. In the morning, you wake at the same time and your hands slip from one another as you stand, preparing for the final hike. “There it is!” Standing at the cliffside, you can see the looming stone wall that seems to stretch across the distance. The other side is the liberation that you have so desperately sought since your capture. And to know that you got here because of him makes your chest swell with an emotion you’re afraid of confronting. Jungkook shifts and smiles at you. “We’re finally here.” “How do we climb it?” “There’s no need. Over there.” He points. “There’s an opening. My….men had taken people from there before. But not many people know its existence. But that’s where we can go.” You should be running down the slope, sprinting through the grassy field as fast as your legs can take you. But then your steps slow, cautious and almost reluctant. It’s Jungkook who pushes you ahead by keeping the pace and making you catch up to him. It’s within moments that the two of you are standing meters away from the opening in the wall, a dark tunnel that has no end from where you are. But it’s one that you had so desperately tried to find a year prior. “Y/N—” “Come with me.” Your gaze is locked with Jungkook’s and you turn to take his hands, holding them tightly like you’re afraid of being pulled away from him. Frantically, you search his expression. “If you come with me, you won’t have to fight anymore, Jungkook. You can see the other side and help my people. It can be a way for you to atone for what you’ve done. And we….and we...” “I can’t.” Jungkook tugs away from you slowly, his eyes sorrowful. “I’ve decided to go back.” “Aren’t you afraid?” Your voice cracks against your will, volume raising with your anger. “They will punish you for deserting your post.” “I know. But I have to go back and face the consequences. This is my journey to lead. I can’t avoid it.” Jungkook’s gaze shifts to you, tender like he knows he’ll miss you by his side. “And even if I came with you, they’ll shoot the both of us on command if they know who I am.” “I’ll tell them that you helped me.” “I’m still the enemy.” He takes a step towards you and cradles your cheek in his palm, the closest he’s ever touched you. “I need to give you your best chance, Y/N.” Jungkook wipes away the tear that sheds down your face with the pad of his thumb and you hold onto his arm, fearful of letting go. “W-What if I never see you again?” “It’s okay. We will meet,” he vows. “I promise.” He’s doing it again, that bad habit of promising things that are out of his control. The habit that gives you too much hope. “Don’t promise things.” “Sorry, I can’t help it.” Jungkook boyishly smiles, pressing his forehead against yours for a moment. One last precious moment that you try to savour. “Thank you for trusting and joining me so far. Now go and don’t worry about me. Don’t look back.” But it’s easier than it sounds. Even when you walk off, you can’t help turning over your shoulder. You can’t help the trembling of your lips, the way your eyes fill with tears as you stare upon his forced smile…. “It’s okay to be selfish one last time, right?” you ask with a shaking voice and close the distance within a few strides. An inhale is taken through your lips and then you’re lifting yourself on the tips of your toes to press your mouth against Jungkook’s in a searing kiss — a bittersweet farewell that you had dreaded. The young man smiles against your lips, quickly reciprocating as his hands come to cradle your cheeks again. And then the moment is over. The two of you have parted, the affectionate gesture tingling against your skin with his faint scent already fading away. “I’ll remember what you taught me,” Jungkook murmurs. “And I’ll remember you the most.” Even when you’ve long walked away onto the other side and faded from sight and he, too, turns away to begin yet another journey, but one on his own — Jungkook’s promise stays with you.

[Epilogue] A young girl in a floral dress approaches the counter hesitantly until the other person looks up from their computer. She clears her throat, voice timid, “Hi, I’m looking for a Jeon Jungkook.” The nurse’s expression lights up and she smiles. “Oh, you must be them! We’ve been waiting. Right this way.” The girl turns around and nods towards you. Then she walks around and pushes your wheelchair forward, following the nurse down the hall. “He was lucid a week ago. But you should maintain your expectations. There’s a chance he won’t be able to recall with his Alzheimer’s. If you have any photographs or mementos, that might be able to jog his memory...” The room is reached and the nurse happily opens the door while you turn to the young girl. “I can take it from here.” “Are you sure?” your granddaughter asks in worry and you smile. “I am.” The room is modest but quaint. After a life of noise, plain walls and the quiet was all anyone could ask for. But your breath stutters in your chest as you find an old man sitting in his bed alone with his head turned to look out the window. His hair has turned stark gray, wrinkles lined all over his face. Exhaustion has made its mark on him. But what hasn’t changed and what you still hold dear to your heart is his bright doe eyes. “Mr. Jeon?” The nurse calls and he swivels over. “You have a special guest with you today...” She steps out and you roll the wheels of your wheelchair in. The eighty year old man doesn’t recognize you. You know it by the way his eyes are glossed over, how his expression never changes, how his lips remain in a tight line. He looks at you like you’re a stranger and you suppose you are. After six decades, you don’t recognize yourself anymore either. But before he can ask who you are, you call his name— “Jungkook.” It takes a moment. Like the many moments he had once given you. And it’s a long one that’s drawn out for seven heartbeats. Jungkook gazes into your eyes, brows furrowing and then his mouth parts. “Y/N?” He remembers, like he had promised. Laughter spills out of you before they turn into choked cries, one made of happiness. You wheel yourself over to his bedside and take his trembling hands in yours. You shouldn’t cry — not when this moment was so precious and meant to be cherished, not when you had tried so hard to reunite with him. It took too long to meet him again, but now was better than never. “I-I’ve gotten old, haven’t I?” “Not at all.” The aged man shakes his head, chuckling heartily and wipes away a tear on your wrinkled cheek with the pad of his thumb. “You’re still as pretty as back then.” You laugh, not paying mind to the nurse who’s standing at the doorway with a warm smile and your granddaughter tearing up at the sight. You had made sure to tell your children and grandchildren about him, about the man who had saved you, who had given you the chance to live this long. “How did you find me?” his voice croaks in curiosity, brown orbs holding the same amount of tenderness. “You kept your promise, so the least I could do was keep this one.” There’s so many things that you want to say, so many things you had thought about throughout the years. But now, none of it seemed to matter. All you had within you was gratitude. “Jungkook.” “Yes?” “Thank you for saving my life.” He squeezes your wrinkled hands, caressing them within his own. You know that below his aged exterior of gray hair and slow movements is still a boyish officer — a young man who had once taken your hand and led you through the winding forest without ever faltering. And beneath your own old skin and bones is still an exasperated doctor who had healed him. “The one thing I don’t regret during that time,” Jungkook murmurs, “was saving you.” The two of you smile as if no time had passed at all.

#bts fanfic #bts scenario #bts angst #jungkook fanfic #jungkook scenario #jungkook angst #jungkook fanfiction #Y'ALL this isn't heartbreaking but like there's something in my eyes now #and like it's prob dust #but maybe not

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sepublic · 4 years

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Over-Analyzing Boscha

Given what we’ve seen about Boscha, specifically her mother… And how she ends up coming across as emotionally-clingy and needing, asking if she can join her daughter’s sleepover (while at the same time only learning at the last second and not even remarking on this), I’ve gotta wonder…

This is just speculation, but maybe Boscha’s mother (and potentially father, or other mother) is someone who treats their kid more like an emotional crutch and somebody to take care of them, rather than somebody they’re responsible for. And obviously, this kind of thing has BAD effects on a kid (see my previous analyses). I wonder if Boscha was conditioned from a young age to see emotional openness and vulnerability as a weakness, and very toxic because of how uncomfortable it made her as a child.

Perhaps to her, friends are people you should keep a certain distance from, lest they become clingy, overstep their boundaries, and start weighing you down with insecurities as they become overly-reliant on you. In her opening monologue from Wing it like Witches, Boscha apparently believes this principle applies to fans, since she thinks that being feared and hated is just another sign of success and supposed to be normal.

Given how prior to their falling out, Boscha constantly followed Amity around and seemed to be almost fishing for approval at times… As pointed out to me by @theowlhouseheadcanons, I wonder if Amity was someone she actually admired and look up to, as a guide for how to act; Or at the very least, Boscha looked up to the façade that Amity put up.

From Boscha’s perspective, Amity is cooler than her; Her own parents may have some status, but Amity always talks of her friendship with Boscha as a privilege she’s extending. Amity is the Top Student at Hexside for a reason, and the personal favorite apprentice of Lilith, Head Witch of the Emperor’s Coven! She’s aloof, while keeping people at a distance, and was always better at Grudgby than Boscha.

To Boscha, Amity may have been someone she wanted to emulate; And with the distant, cold way Amity acted around her, always setting boundaries and maintaining a distance between the two, I could see Boscha legitimately thinking that; Oh, this is how friends should act! Because keep in mind, Boscha was basically ‘gifted’ her position as Team Captain, and all the fame that went with it, from Amity; And all because Amity felt bad for injuring her.

Boscha seems very much like the kind of person who doesn’t realize that you can dislike a person, while still treating them with dignity and respect… So if Amity felt bad about injuring her to the point where she quit Grudgby, cold-turkey, at the height of her success? Clearly Boscha means a lot to her! I mean, why else would Amity choose to hang out with her?

Which naturally, this leads to Boscha believing that her and Amity ARE friends… And that Amity’s cold, distant way of regarding her, always keeping each other at a distance while making sure to remind Boscha who’s the dominant one in the group, is how friends should act. Coupled with what I said earlier about Boscha seeing emotional openness as weak and toxic, and I can see Boscha being under the impression that people should be admired from a distance, even by their friends, and that maintaining that kind of distance is important and just a natural thing in a good relationship.

Which, there are differences between setting healthy boundaries, and always keeping ‘friends’ at a distance from you, reminding them of one’s superiority over them, and applying this to fans and admirers as well. What’s worse is that to Boscha, getting injured by Amity may not have been something she held against her; Not just because it was a legitimate accident and Amity even gave up her position as Team Captain to her… But I could also see her legitimately thinking that it’s totally fine to injure your friends to achieve success, and that real friends should let themselves be hurt for the ‘stronger’ of the pair!

Obviously, I can’t see Boscha letting herself get hurt for her other friends, nor do I necessarily think she actually hurt any of them either. Which leads me to my point that Amity, or at least the image she put up, was the only person that Boscha ever actually respected and looked up to for a while (given her lack of reverence for rules and the adults); That she was always content with being second-best because it was to Amity!

Perhaps Boscha regularly followed Amity around, always trying to get her attention and ‘impress’ her, show her how much she was like Amity, while unintentionally being clingy in her own way like her mother. So when Amity, seemingly inexplicably, leaves Boscha behind for Willow… Boscha is now at the top of the friend group, but like with Grudgby it’s only because Amity stepped down.

What’s worse is that Amity did it because she actively rejected Boscha for being a toxic person as well. She’s now at the top, but what does Boscha do with this position, having lost the one person she looked up to, now that they’ve been ‘corrupted’? Having nobody to look to for guidance, when her own parents were unreliable? Especially now that her position at the ‘top’, both in Grudgby and amongst the friend group, is becoming hollow as attentions diverts to Willow…

(Not that I think Boscha’s friends necessarily intended to displace her with Willow, but to someone unhealthily competitive as Boscha it would definitely seem the case.)

Being at the top is already lonely enough as-is, but considering Boscha’s outlook on life and the way she treats people, it’s only going to get worse. I can see her being trapped in a period of confusion, not sure what to think anymore, wanting to hate Amity but also realizing that a lot of the things she knows, she was taught by her; So can she keep operating by these rules still? And so Boscha tries to distract herself from it all by just throwing her entire soul into Grudgby, only to be left in despair when Grudgby Season inevitably ends, regardless of whether or not Boscha becomes THE champion of the sport that year!

To Boscha, she HAS to be the best, because if she’s not, then maybe she’s a loser like her parents… And she has to distance herself from them. Boscha’s parents prioritized themselves over her, so she was taught that to have any real happiness in life, she has to put herself above everybody else at any cost, lest others try and ‘take’ that from her, that she has to keep a tight hold on what she has lest it be jeopardized. Everybody is a selfish enemy trying to encroach on her territory, so Boscha has to defend at any cost!

Obviously, I’m not saying Amity is somehow a bad person, or that she’s necessarily ‘responsible’ for who Boscha is. Amity was distant from Boscha because she was forced to be friends with her and just genuinely did not vibe; Not to mention, she was also internalizing a lot of abuse from her own parents that encouraged Amity to be someone who was cold and closed-off, which when coupled with her loneliness in the situation… It’s no wonder she didn’t really interact with Boscha on a personal level. Really, I just see the situation as being the fault of both girls’ parents, for not being caring enough and leaving their kids confused and trying to navigate one another, and getting the wrong lessons in the process.

Clearly Boscha has some issues of her own, that are of her own choosing and fault; She’s spiteful and petty to a degree that Amity has never been. But ultimately, I think it’s fun considering why she is the way she is, and what her relationship with Amity was like, in the wake of Amity revealing more about herself and thus re-contextualizing a bunch of interactions!

Amity isn’t at fault here, she’s a kid who was forced to hang out with someone she didn’t want to, and it’s not her fault that Boscha got the wrong messages because of abuse from her parents. And if Boscha’s mother was a ‘lonely loser’ who was clingy and toxic to her, then I can see that influencing Boscha’s way of treating Willow and her outlook on lonely people as being ‘desperate’, ‘pathetic’, and deserving to be mistreated for being ‘parasites’.

That they need to be taught to always know their place and maintain a distance from those who matter, lest such ‘losers’ drag them down with them as well. Similarly, I can see her bullying Willow almost as a means of garnering Amity’s approval, because obviously Amity seemed intent on telling Willow to leave her alone; So Boscha would prove her loyalty and helpfulness as a friend, by telling Willow to back off! Amidst her own narrow mindset, it must be incredibly baffling to her for Amity to suddenly be hanging out with Willow and defending her from Boscha, who had always ‘protected’ her!

I don’t know why Boscha’s mother is like this, or if her other parent is complicit as well. But generally speaking, a parent usually doesn’t resort to asking to hang out with their own kid if they aren’t lonely; So I wouldn’t be surprised if Boscha’s other parent is also distant, and responsible for her mother being emotionally needy… Which then causes Boscha’s mother to rely on her own daughter, making Boscha uncomfortable around those kinds of people, and causing a chain of events that result in the messed-up fourteen-year-old we see today!

And again, Amity’s not responsible for Boscha, and she’s still busy trying to heal herself as well and definitely has worse self-loathing issues- Amity has never been truly selfish, mainly doing what her parents want; Which of course, she confuses as being what she wants as well. Obviously I don’t want to compare abuse, but at the same time it has to be acknowledged that Amity REALLY needs to prioritize herself and the friends she’s actually chosen for once.

Amity is NOT a hypocrite for calling out Boscha on her bad behavior and indicating she’s more mature than her, especially since she’s never been an active bully and already made clear that Willow is to be respected. She’s still unlearning the abuse from her parents that makes Amity believe that kids like her are supposed to ‘be mature’ at an early age. She never planned to be Boscha’s friend, and Boscha was clearly more interested in the façade she put up; And even then, the image that Boscha had in mind wasn’t entirely accurate to Amity’s façade either!

Boscha’s idea of what Amity was supposed to be like no doubt contributed to the pressure Amity had to be someone she wasn’t. It’s best for both girls that they separated, honestly- So that Amity can finally be free to make her own friends and not be beholden to someone she was forced to be with, and so Boscha can stop using Amity’s fake self as an unhealthy standard to follow, stop participating in a one-sided and unhealthy ‘friendship’, recognize where she’s messed up, respect others’ boundaries, and hopefully become kinder to others.

Maybe then, Boscha will stop almost projecting her insecurities and needs onto Amity, looking to her almost as someone to depend and rely on, without considering who Amity ACTUALLY is and what she truly wants; Because Amity isn’t some stoic emotional crutch, she’s still a kid with her own insecurities and needs, just like Boshca. Boscha can perhaps stop looking at Amity for who Boscha wants her to be…

…You know, the way her mother treats Boscha herself.

#the owl house #owl house #the owl house boscha #the owl house amity #amity blight #speculation #character analysis

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paige-and-opal-inc · 3 years

Text

Rogues of the Shadows-Chapter 8

Masterpost Previous | Next Warnings: Death Mention, Fighting (Verbal and Physical)

Links: Wattpad

Disclaimer: This chapter will have multiple POVs, but this is temporary and is only for this chapter.

Dapple stared at where Leo had walked away. A terrible feeling of guilt and anger swirling in her chest. You’re willing to hurt me in order to make yourselves feel better. That couldn’t be right. All Dapple had wanted to do was protect him.

“Look at what you did!” Grace shouted, and it took a minute for Dapple to realize Grace was talking to her.

“What do you mean ‘what I did?!” Dapple asked, how could Grace blame her. This entire plan was Grace’s idea.

“You messed up the plan! You were supposed to wait for my signal to grab him!” She said.

“I’m pretty sure you guys getting beat to a pulp by Windclan was enough of a signal!” Dapple shot back, remembering her panic as she watched Windclan overtake the Shadowclan cats.

“You weren’t even supposed to go into the tunnel! I was going to get him out and then you were supposed to help me get him a safe distance away!” Grace had a look on her face angry enough to scare death itself. Dapple felt the guilt be overcome by even more anger as she unsheathed her claws.

“You were too busy fighting every cat you saw to get to Leo! Since when is shredding Windclan more important than our own brother?!” Dapple growled, and she didn’t miss the way Grace carefully unsheathed her own claws.

They stared at each other for a beat, before Grace leaped at Dapple. Even though Dapple did her best to fight back, Grace had had training. Thankfully Grace had the sense to sheath her claws before pouncing on Dapple. Dapple swiped at her, claws also sheathed. She managed to wiggle her way out from under Grace, though it didn’t give her any more of an advantage.

Grace went to pounce on her again, but Dapple moved fast before slamming hard into Grace’s side. Dapple knew words that she’d regret were leaving her mouth but she didn’t care. Grace was yelling too. With each word Dapple felt the familiar twist of rage that she had felt grow. Dapple yelled out in pain as she felt claws on her cheek, she quickly unsheathed her own and swiped Grace's shoulder.

“THAT IS ENOUGH!”

Grace could hear an oh-so-familiar voice pierce her ears. She felt someone from behind her pull her away from Dapple. He yanked her off and tossed her aside as one does with dead prey, Grace looked up into his eyes. Braveclaw’s irises were only slits and his white teeth were bared for all to see while he spoke. Dapple was ready to pounce back on Grace but Lavenderstripe stood in her way. Grace didn’t care what their useless father had to say; she wanted to pounce as bad as Dapple did.

“You two are littermates! Like it or not you are also a part of this clan! We will not tolerate this behavior! A YOUNG APPRENTICE IS NOW DEAD! You two better get your act together or you’ll be the next to fall at the claws of Windclan!” Braveclaw roared, his voice filled the entire camp. Kittens trembled and even Lavenderstripe flinched. “SPARROWPAW IS DEAD!”

Braveclaw lost his breath and was followed by silence. He locked eyes with Grace and she wondered if he could tell how scared she really was. She looked around. Everyone was still and staring at her father. Butterflypaw was curled up in between her parents but both Leo and Robinpaw had runoff. Grace wondered if Dapple died, would she feel the need to run off the way Robinpaw did?

Then Grace noticed movement out of the corner of her eyes. Leopardspots appeared and Braveclaw seemed to relax. Even her father, the worst clan cat Grace had ever met, had a good relationship with his own sister. Grace looked over at Dapple, who had huddled up next to Lavenderstripe when Braveclaw yelled, she couldn’t look up at anyone. What had Grace started? She only wanted to protect her siblings now she was sure neither of them were ever going to talk to her again. What good was she without her siblings?

“Come on, let’s get you to the medicine den. All of the injured report to the medicine den.” Leopardspots said, breaking the silence. Her calmness in such a scary uncertain time sent shivers down Dapple’s spine. Dapple could never be a leader in any way, she couldn’t stay calm like her. The only similarity was that Leopardspots looked a bit like Dapple. She was covered in spots that looked alike, but her fur was long and fluffy, and the same dark brown as Braveclaws fur. Then Dapple found herself looking directly into her eyes. Leopardspots mouth was moving but Dapple’s mind didn’t process the words that were being spoken to her.

“Dapple, you need to get to the medicine den, Lavenderstripes will take care of the more severe wounds but you need to help the others,” Leopardspots repeated, with only patience in her voice. Dapple quickly nodded and went off to help Lavenderstripe.

This was Dapple’s first time healing battle wounds and she found herself wondering whether she could handle this. She already wasn’t good under pressure, but these cats depended on her.

She was used to helping the elders with their common aches and pains, thankfully, this wasn’t very different since she was tending to minor wounds. She didn’t have to use a ton of cobwebs, like Lavenderstripe. She found herself mostly giving out poppy seeds and marigold to help numb pain and prevent cuts and scratches from getting infected.

Finally, a face she didn’t want to see walked in, her father. Leopardspots had pulled him aside after he yelled at Grace and herself. Leopardspots and Braveclaw were talking for so long she hoped he would forget to come to the medicine den. It seemed like Leopardspots calmed him down, but Dapple was still afraid to look him in the eyes.

She examined his wounds and tried her best to avoid conversation. When he cleared his throat, she flinched, nearly jumping a full tail length in the air. She was looking down at the ground but she could feel his eyes staring at her. She frantically searched for a cut on his paw so she wouldn’t give him another reason to yell at her. She didn’t want to be useless.

“I… I...” Braveclaw’s voice cracked as he spoke. He too was avoiding eye contact. He took in a few more deep breaths before speaking again.

“I am so sorry.” He whispered so softly that only Dapple could hear him. Before she could say anything Braveclaw hurried out of the den, leaving Dapple baffled. Why would her father be apologizing?

But before Dapple could think more about it another cat interrupted her thoughts. Eplispewatcher walked in slowly. Dapple was happy to see since it meant that she had finished healing battle wounds.

“Hello, Dapplepaw.” She said softly, smiling. Eclipsewatcher came there all the time. She had consistent joint aches. Dapple usually gave her ragwort leaves to soothe the pain and talked with her while doing it. Usually about small things like their favorite prey. Dapple knew that Eclipsewatcher loved the taste of any type of bird and didn’t mind all the feathers.

“Is everything okay Dapplepaw? You look… disturbed.” Eclipsewatcher confronted her. Eclispwatcher was always careful with her words and Dapple didn’t mind how slowly or softly she spoke. Dapple shook her head and gave her the herbs.

“I’m- I’m fine you don’t need to worry about me,” Dapple said, even though she was literally shivering.

“Now I know that’s not true. Dapplepaw, if there is anything you need to talk about you can tell me, ok? Thank you for the herbs.” Eclispewatcher told her. She slowly walked away as an old cat with achy joints would often do.

Dapple rolled onto her other side, exhaustion pulling her eyes closed. She hadn’t been able to sleep, the small amount of light filtering into the den telling her it was already dawn. She quietly got up and stepped into camp, letting out a yawn. She stood in the shadow of the Clanrock, waking up from sleep she never really got.

She looked over to the oak tree, Leopardspots emerging catching her eye. Dapple opened her mouth to greet Leopardspots before more movement caught her attention. A figure emerged from behind the oak tree, the scent of Dapples nightmare following it. The light hit it and for a moment there wa a familiar gold coat and green eyes. Dapple blinked and it was gone, all that was there was Leopardspots who was talking to herself. It must be the lack of sleep, Dapple thought.

Turning around, Dapple quickly stepped back into the den, suddenly not wanting Leopardspots to see her. For as long as she could Dapple busied herself with her usual duties, a bit scared to go back outside.

Grace stretched awake. Like normal, she awoke before the sun even rose. Today instead of going around actually doing stuff like running or something she just laid there, trying to go back to sleep. Most warriors were still resting, as orders from Lavenderstripe to heal their wounds quicker. Grace didn’t like the clan cats very much, except for Sparrowpaw and her sisters. Well, Sparrowpaw was gone which just left her sisters. Yet, today she couldn’t help feeling bad for Shadowclan today. Most of them were aching and they had just lost a young member of the clan. The weather was pretty miserable today too.

It was foggy and even a little sticky outside. Grace failed to go back to sleep so she just laid there waiting for the sun to come up. When she couldn’t stand laying around any longer she popped her head out of the apprentice den. She walked around camp hoping to avoid her father. She didn’t realize it because of the fog but it was already midday. There was so little movement as if the whole clan was dead rather than just one apprentice. She saw a silhouette in the fog, much too small to be Braveclaw but still bigger than her. She got closer, and saw it was Leo.

“Leo,” Grace said softly, “I know you're hurting. Her death hurt me too. I wish I could fix this whole mess.”

Leo looked tired and he left her with nothing but silence. He just sat there eating a finch. Did he even hear her? Then the last person she wanted to see walked up from behind them.

“Leave us alone Dapple.” Grace hissed loudly. Leo was done eating and sauntered off leaving her alone with Dapple and a pile of feathers.

“I told you to leave us alone!” Grace bared her teeth not even a paw length away from her sister’s face. Grace looked around to see where Leo went, finding him with their father.

“Shouldn’t you be training?” Dapple muttered. She scowled right back into her sister’s eyes.

“Take a look around, mousebrain. No one is doing anything today. Leopardspots gave us the day off to grieve and heal while she and Pebblestar figure out what our next move is.” Grace said but just as she unsheathed her claws Primrosekit walked by. She didn’t want to tackle Dapple in front of a tiny kit.

Primrosekit was a moon younger than Sparrowpaw’s sisters. She has pale orange pelt with even paler stripes. Her eyes were also a pale brown. Grace knew who she was; she just didn’t see her around much because she didn’t have a reason to be hanging around kits.

“Does Dapple even need to grieve? Shouldn’t she be healing our warriors?” Primrosekit piped in.

“Yeah, how come you aren’t training?” Grace retorted.

“Now look at who's the mousebrain. I took care of all my duties yesterday and this morning! Do you even pay attention to what’s going on around here!” Dapple protested. Grace wanted to pounce, but she glanced back over at Primrosekit. Primrosekit sat down beside them, not leaving any time soon.

“Yeah, Grace did you not even see all the cats coming in and out of the medicine den!?” Primrose squealed. This kit was starting to get on Grace’s nerves. She started to care less whether Primrosekit watched them tackle each other. Didn't the whole clan witness their fight yesterday anyway?

She jumped toward littermate but kept her claws in. They rolled down the slight hill they were on top of. She could hear Primrose screaming for a warrior’s help. She could hear the cracking of Lavenderstripes voice. She couldn’t quite make out what he was saying but she could tell he was shouting at Dapple. He pulled Dapple out and Grace felt someone lifting her by her neck scruff.

“Put me down! I’m not a kit! Stop carrying me away!” Grace demanded. She wailed, kicking her legs and tail around, shouting and struggling. She looked up to see her father was carrying her. She fought even harder to get out of his grip.

“I just wanted to have a normal conversation with you Grace! Like normal littermates for once! Why couldn’t you just listen?!” Dappled cried, clearly exhausted, “ I just needed to talk to you Grace! Seriously, there is something concerning that I need to ask you about!”

“She’s lying! I was there! They were yelling at each other!” Primrosekit ran up next to Lavenderstripe, telling on them.

“You foxheart.” Grace sneered. Then all of a sudden Braveclaw dropped her. She did not land on her feet.

“Grace! That’s a kit! I cannot believe your language! As your father, I demand you two to behave.” Braveclaw said, then he walked away with Primrosekit and Lavenderstripe.

The craziest part about all of this was that Grace believed Dapple. Maybe she really did have something important to say and Grace was the one being rude.

“What did you need to tell me?” Grace asked, approaching her sister.

“Our father is acting strange. H-he said something weird to me but I should really go. Lavenderstripe may need help checking on warriors or something.” Dapple admitted hesitantly, she shook her head then walked away. What weird thing could Braveclaw have possibly said to her? Grace thought he was acting like the same mousebrained foxhearted rotten cat of a father that he had always been.

Dapple walked into the medicine den, just trying to avoid Grace. She didn’t think she could possibly have a serious conversation with her littermate ever again. All they did was fight no matter how hard they tried to stand each other.

“Dapple, come here.” Lavenderstripe ordered, she obeyed. “Look, you can’t keep doing this. This fight wasn’t even a day apart from the last. The whole clan is in pain, this is the last thing we need. Look at me, Dapple, if you can’t be around Grace without fighting Pebblestar and Leopardspots may have to punish you. I suggest staying away from her.” Lavenderstripe lectured her, more serious than he had ever been. Dapple felt her throat tighten.

“But, Lavenderstripe, she’s my sister! Leo won’t even talk to us anymore! If I don’t have my family, who do I have?!” Dapple gasped. The last time she even saw Leo he looked exhausted and was even asking Braveclaw to train today. He must have known that his own mentor wouldn’t feel up to it and that Braveclaw couldn’t resist from training for a day. Braveclaw must have denied if he was able to be there in time to break up the fight.

“You do realize you have other family than just them, Leopardspots and Braveclaw, and even more so you have a family in the clan now. That’s what a clan does, we are here for one another. Now, could you take some herbs to Eclipsewatcher?” Lavenderstripe explained. Dapple actually felt like a mousebrain at this moment. Of course she had the clan! Unlike Grace she actually fit in with the clan. They were nice to her and told her she was doing well. She picked up the herbs in her mouth ready to go see Eclipsewatcher.

#warrior cats #warriors #cats #fanfic #fanfiction #warriors fic #warriors fanfiction #warrior cats fanfic #warrior cats fanfiction #warrior cats fic #warriors oc #oc #original writing #oc's

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chaosride · 3 years

Text

A Divine Appointment (x7)

Chapter One

“Anyone who does anything to help a child is a hero to me.” — Fred Rogers

Anders had always been good with children. Even when he was younger, before the Circle, the other village kids had adored him. Sometimes he would see his mother watch him with sad eyes as he carried around whichever smaller kid had requested it. He hadn’t understood until after the last time he would see her that she was sad he was an only child, that she hadn’t been able to give him siblings to dote on or his father the gaggle of children he wanted.

For the first few months of being at the Circle, the other children all avoided him. Before, it would have been something he would have tried to rectify. Especially some of the younger children who clung to the robes of older apprentice mages who clearly didn’t have the patience for them. But at that time he didn’t want to talk to anyone ever again; childishly he had sworn that if they took his freedom, they took his voice too. After his first escape, which earned him a good whipping and a relatively short stay of three weeks in solitary, the younger children had become something of a balm to him. They were trapped here, same as he was, and he could protect them in some small measure while he was there. Every escape after they clambered into his bunk with their blankets and demanded to know the details.

When Anders returned from his year-long stay in solitary many of them were gone and the ones who remained were older in ways he wished he didn’t understand. One of the templars who had escorted him to his personal worst nightmare had taunted him that it was a shame that no one had been around to mind the younger mages while he was away, though the nasty smirk on his face said he thought the opposite. Anders knew that they had taken it out on the children in his place, and any hurts were his fault. He wished he had never started speaking again sometimes.

The children were sometimes the only reason Anders lit the lantern and opened the clinic. The adult refugees of Darktown were able to look after themselves for a day, but the urchins that littered Kirkwall’s underbelly couldn’t. Often there was a pack or two that came by per day, bringing this friend or that sibling who had gotten hurt doing jobs they shouldn’t have to in order to survive. He steadfastly ignored Lirene’s chiding to stop giving all his food away to them; he could figure something out, he was an adult.

Besides that, they had saved his life more than once in a variety of ways. Between warnings about templar patrols, acting as distractions, and fetching aid when he needed it, Anders would have been dead ten times over. Even so he was careful to keep them at arm's length, for their sakes. He had learned from the children he cared for in the Circle and from Karl, he was a dangerous person to love. They deserved that fate even less than they deserved to be living on the streets.

Every week saw a wash of new faces mixed with familiar ones, as well as a lack of others. Some of the groups move on to different cities, but many of them are lost to the grisly beast that is Kirkwall. Though he sees children every day it is rarely the same group within a week if not better when Anders first came to the city. They came to him with teary eyes and gingerly cradled wounds, ate his food and then left again.

Sometime after they returned from the Deep Roads, that changed but only with one group of children. They had a decent number to their little family, and Anders had never seen less than four of them together. They had started setting up near the clinic at night, and he had noticed them a few times coming back late from drinks or whatever fights Hawke had gotten them into that day. He remembered thinking that the youngest of them were no more than babies, still toddlers and hoping that they found a safer place to spend their nights soon.

The first time the children came by, it was before the clinic had actually opened for the day. Anders had been up boiling bandages and washing what few linens he had for the cots. The knock at the door had been so soft that he figured it was a breeze rattling the flimsy door in its frame. If it hadn’t been so quiet, he might not have realized they were out there, but the soft sound of whispers bleeding through the door caught his attention. The second knock was louder and more deliberate.

It took Anders a moment to wipe his hands off and get to the door. When he opened it there was a huddle of kids towards the stairs, having obviously decided Anders wasn’t going to answer.

“What are we supposed to do now?” One of them, a young elven girl, whispered. “Why isn’t anyone answering?”

“It’s early Bree, most people aren’t up yet. We’ll have to find someone else or wait for Delilah,” a dwarven boy answered her.

“But it’s an emergency, Cat’s really sick. Why close at night, emergencies happen at night too. What are you supposed to do?”

“Everyone has to sleep sometime. And you just have to survive and get help as soon as you can.”

Anders stepped out of the clinic towards them.

“Someone’s sick?” Anders called to them when they backed away from him in tandem. “I’m a healer, I can help,” he soothed and held his hands up.

The girl who had been speaking before turned towards him, her little face hopeful.

“You’ll help Cat?”

“I’ll do everything I can,” Anders assured her. “What’s wrong?”

“She had a fever last night but now it’s worse and she was coughing and won’t eat or drink,” the girl told him all in one breath. She went to step closer but the boy held her back. He regarded Anders with distrusting eyes.

“What do you charge for healing?” He asked Anders carefully.

“Nothing, I run a free clinic, it doesn’t cost any money. It sounds like she may have caught that bug that’s going around, I have herbs to help with fever. Come in, let me take a look at her.”

“If we don’t have to pay in coin, what do we have to do in return?” The boy didn’t move closer and didn’t release the girl who had spoken.

“It’s free, you don’t have to do anything in return.”

“Nothing's free,” the boy said with chilling certainty.

“Not much in life is," Anders agreed, "but this is. If you want me to help, come in and let me take a look.”

“We can… we can leave the door open? And leave anytime we want?”

“Of course.”

Finally the boy nodded and stepped forward. He and the other children followed Anders into the clinic. In total there were five children, including the sick toddler the oldest girl was carrying. The dwarven boy was wary, and made Anders eat from the food he offered them to prove it wasn’t poisoned. The oldest girl, Rosalyn was elven as well, tall and waifish. She watched him with sharp eyes as the other toddler, a boy who looked startlingly like the sick girl, sat in her lap. Bree, the other elven girl, had none of the learned paranoia her companions did and followed Anders around the clinic, asking him about what he was doing and if she could help. Anders let her help with small things like linens and rolling bandages. The herbs he gave to Cat helped lower her fever and he sent another piece of bread for the girl to have when she woke up with them when they left.

Like all the children before, they left once he had healed them and Anders figured they too would eventually stop coming around.

They didn’t. After that they came by for healing every now and then, but they all recognized Anders as he went through Darktown. Bree waved enthusiastically usually, and more than once little Cat and her twin brother Cahir ran to him to be picked up. Slowly even Tanner, the cautious dwarven boy, warmed up to Anders.

It was the early hours of the morning when Anders led Hawke, Varric, Fenris and Isabela towards the clinic. Isabela had taken a bad hit to the head and Anders had healed her as well as he could before the finally began the long trek home and to the clinic where he can treat her more comprehensively. There was a potion that would help with the concussion and a lyrium potion that would give Anders the juice he needed to finish fixing the damage.

“Mage,” Fenris called to him from where he had rounded the corner to the clinic. “There are children gathered at your door.”

“Huh?” Anders said, looking at the elf. He and Hawke were supporting Isabela to help her walk and when they rounded the corner together he saw what Fenris was talking about.

There were in fact children huddled against the door to his clinic. As they drew closer, Bree broke from the group and ran to him, her little face alarmed. She was already speaking when she reached their little group, nearly wailing from how distraught she was.

“-and you’ll help, won’t you healer?” she gasped out, and Anders felt bad that all he had understood was the end of her tirade. He was still carefully sliding Isabela’s weight to Hawke when Fenris stepped forward and elegantly knelt to be on the girl’s level.

“It’s okay,” he told her, “tell us what’s wrong and we will help,” the warrior assured the girl.

“Raelnor got hurt really bad today, he’s been working at the dock, his arm’s bent all wrong and he can’t move his fingers, and then he just said it hurt real bad and fell over and we can’t wake him up,” she told him, her breath still hitching with tears.

“I can help him, sweetheart, go with Fenris and help get him into the clinic, alright?”

She nodded. Fenris shot Anders a look over his shoulder, likely for the mage daring to tell him what to do, but he said nothing and allowed Bree to lead him to the clinic with one small hand carefully holding his gauntleted hand. Anders watched as Fenris bent his head to speak to her ahead of them and as he helped them carry a new boy Anders had never seen before inside to a cot. The sight of the elf swarmed by curious children made something in Anders’ chest ache like there was a festering wound behind his breastbone.

Once Isabela had been healed and given a potion to help her headache, she helped keep the children entertained while Anders healed Raelnor. Tanner had given them all distrustful looks when they pulled the door shut and locked it but once he saw how Anders’ hands glowed with magic as he prepared to heal Raelnor he seemed to understand.

Raelnor was older and the children called him their brother despite how much darker his coloring was than any of the rest of them. Tanner and Bree could perhaps have passed as his siblings with their dark hair if Bree had not been an elf and Tanner a dwarf. Neither Rosalyn, with her almost white blonde hair, pointed ears and pale skin, nor the twins, with their red curly hair, had any resemblance to the rest. Regardless they were clearly a family unit, a package deal.

From what Anders could gather when he asked them about the accident, Raelnor had been working on the docks to make money for them and had come back late the night before with twice the usual pay and a shattered arm. Once Raelnor himself actually woke up, he was reluctant to say more on what had happened.

“A crate fell when we were unloading our last shipment of the day and my boss gave me extra money to see a healer.”

“But you didn’t?”

“We needed the money, and everyone I tried to see charged more than I could afford,” he had ground out and refused to look at them. “Thank you for healing me, how much do I owe you?”

“Nothing,” Anders told him. “Come to me as soon as possible next time, I’ll heal you free of charge every time.”

It was true for him and the children because it was true for everyone. If Anders could help someone he would, but even if he did charge the healer wouldn’t have been able to accept a single cent from children. He had become a healer because he wanted to help people, not because he wanted coin or thanks.

“Yeah, I will,” Raelnor lied, still looking at his hands in his lap.

“Be careful with that arm, it will still be prone to rebreaks even with healing. You broke it pretty badly,” Anders cautioned him. “Just a moment, I’ll get you something to help with the pain, it will ache for a while still.”

Anders ended up sending them with several pain relieving potions and a basket with most of the food he had just bought for himself. He tried to ignore Fenris’ eyes on him, knowing the other man likely thought him a sucker for giving away so much of his food.

“Well, this has all been very exciting but Bianca and I are going home. I’ll see you all tomorrow. Late afternoon at the earliest, Hawke ,” Varric said. He stretched his stocky arms above his head and rolled his shoulders.

“I hear you, I’ll avoid early morning emergencies to the best of my ability,” Hawke replied.

“Greatly appreciated, Chuckles.”

Anders went about setting the clinic to right for the morning, half listening as the others said their goodbyes and distractedly bidding them farewell as they ambled out of the clinic and back into the night. It was only because he looked up to check if they had shut the door behind them that he realized that Fenris had lingered.

“Mage…” Fenris began before trailing off as he struggled to say what was on his mind.

“You think it’s stupid for me to give them so much?” Anders guessed. He had heard others say that about the children he fed.

“No. I think how someone treats the most defenseless among us speaks to their character. I was going to say that I’m glad they knew to come to you for healing. Have a good evening Anders,” the warrior said before turning and leaving. He shut the door firmly behind him, leaving Anders stunned in his wake.

After that, the younger children became something of a fixture in the clinic when it was open. Anders would often open the door in the morning to find them in a puppy pile beneath the lantern, waiting for the clinic to open for the day after Raelnor had gone to work.

Anders learned they had one other older sister, a young woman named Delilah who worked at the Rose most nights. She came by once or twice to try and give Anders food in payment for healing Raelnor, who became a regular patient in the early hours of the morning.

He tried not to worry about them the nights that he spent away from the clinic with Hawke; they weren’t his children, he had no claim over them. If he got too attached, it would only end in tears as it always had before.

That was until they came to find him somewhere besides the clinic.

They had spent a long, hot day assisting Aveline with some slavers out on the Wounded Coast. Once they had returned to Kirkwall they had all agreed to retire to the Hanged Man for their weekly round of Wicked Grace. Not everyone in their rag tag band was able to make it every week, but they had a decent crowd that night. Only missing Merril and Sebastian, the elf busy with some research she was doing and Sebastian with something for the Chantry.

Isabela was just laying her winning hand down for their fourth round of the night with a thwip and flourish of her hand when Norah gave her normal brisk two raps on the door before it swung open.

“Ah, Norah, you don’t have to bring our drinks to us,” Varric said with a grin at the woman. She rolled her eyes at him.

“You can come get your drinks like everyone else unless you order food, Varric. Actually, I came up because there are kids here asking after your healer, tried to tell them this wasn’t the place for little ones but they’re insistent,” she informed them before turning away and leaving.

A cluster of familiar young faces tumbled through the door and Anders rose to his feet immediately, his heart in his throat. A headcount showed that all five of the younger kids were there, though Raelnor wasn’t with them despite how late it was.

“Mage, it would appear your children are here,” Fenris drawled even as Anders lumbered to his feet.

The healer was exhausted, his mana drained, and he had been looking forward to cards. Could just tell them it’s not clinic hours, Anders considered for a split moment. He had already cast the idea aside when Justice chided him for it.

The trust of children is precious, and they have sought you out. Help them, Anders. The spirit urged.

As Anders rounded the table to come closer, little Cat broke free from where she and Cahir were clinging to Rosalyn’s leg. She wobbled towards him, her arms held out expectantly. Anders scooped her up before she could fall without thinking, and tried to ignore how familiar of a weight she was on his hip. She was warm against his side and wound her arms trustingly around his neck.

“We’re really sorry, healer, it’s just- you weren’t at the clinic and Miss Lirene said you may be here,” Rosalyn said quietly. It was the most he had heard the blonde elf girl speak all at once. “Rae is hurt really bad. He just said that his chest hurt, and he was coughing up blood. Please,” she sniffled. Anders didn’t let her say anything more.

“Where is he? Take me to him, love.”

He was already following them down the stairs, Cat still clinging to him like a limpet, when he heard Aveline’s and Isabela’s voices.

“I didn’t realize Anders had kids,” Aveline sounded surprised.

“I don’t think he was aware either,” Isabela laughed. “Looks like we can go ahead and pack it up, big girl. Looks like we lost the rest of our competition to them as well.”

Anders glanced back over his shoulder in confusion at her last statement to see Marian, Varric and Fenris following after him. Isabela and Aveline appear at the top of the stairs together.

“Now this I have to see,” Aveline said. She sounded much too pleased about it.

“It is all rather darling,” Isabela agreed.

They spill out into the dark streets and Anders almost laughed at the sight they must have made; three grown men, three grown women, and a veritable crowd of chattering children.

Rosalyn shifted Cahir in her arms as Tanner told them that Raelnor was still in Darktown. The boy reached for Fenris with a hesitant look on his face even as he leaned nearly completely out of his sister’s grip seeking him. The warrior looked startled and Rosalyn bounced Cahir.

“Sorry,” she said quickly, “he normally doesn’t want anyone to hold him, I don’t know what’s gotten into him.”

“I can’t carry him wearing my gauntlets, I don’t want them to hurt him,” Fenris said.

Anders realized all of his friends had put their armor and weapons back to rights before following them and Fenris had his staff on his back with his own greatsword.

Rosalyn nodded, pulled Cahir closer to herself and stepped farther from the elf. “So give me a moment to remove them and then I will take him,” Fenris finished.

“Oh, you don’t have to-”

“It is no trouble.”

The girl watched with sharp eyes as Fenris stripped his spiked gauntlets off and tied them to hang from his pouch, still within quick reach. Once he was ready she stepped closer and this time when Cahir reached for him, Fenris met him and lifted the boy into his arms. One of Cahir’s small hands curled around the jutting edge of the breastplate of Fenris’ armor.

Anders forced himself to look away from the display and hoped if anyone saw his stare it hadn’t been as transparently fond as he feared it had been. From the look Varric gave him, Anders had no such luck.

They make their way unscathed through Lowtown and into Darktown. Perhaps because even criminals didn’t want to attack children but more likely it was due to luck and how well all of them were known for their fighting prowess. Raelnor was in their cramped little camp set up against one of the walls. Anders had noticed that the group was moving every night a little closer to the clinic; at the rate they are going, they will take to camping outside his front door by month's end.

The boy was pale, his skin clammy and cool to the touch when Anders carefully brushed fingers against his cheek. From how tense he was, Raelnor was conscious if barely. His breath whistled and gurgled in a concerning way, and his teeth were pink with blood. He settled beside him and scanned him with trained eyes, assessing the possible causes. Anders was just preparing to start casting diagnostic spells to see if it is a rib puncturing the boy’s lung like he thought when Fenris touched his shoulder.

“Anders,” he said his name carefully. “It is too open here, people are watching.”

Anders scanned the refugees littered around them. He knew many of their faces but not all of them. He swallowed and nodded. The clinic isn’t far but they can’t risk jostling Raelnor too much by carrying him if it is a broken rib.

“We can put together a makeshift stretcher,” Aveline said. “There are beams we can use over this way and we can fix them to the blanket he’s on.”

Under her direction, they find pieces of wood long and sturdy enough to fit their needs. They secure the blanket to it and test it to ensure it will hold. Hawke and Aveline waved Fenris and Anders off when they tried to put the twins down.

“Get the rest of your kids into the clinic, we got him,” Hawke told them. Her grin said that she would not soon be letting this go. Anders decided any teasing was well worth it as he held Cat closer to him and let Bree take his hand to drag him towards the clinic.

He could almost imagine he was someone else, somewhere else for a few moments as he listened to Tanner and Rosalyn ask Fenris questions, followed by the warrior's deep voice answering. As if they were just a family returning home after a day at the market as he fumbled, shifting the toddler in his arms in order to retrieve the key to get the door unlocked and open for them. Cat, for her part, simply ignored the jostling and clung tighter to him.

When he tried to put her down inside and she blinked up dazedly at him Anders realized she must have fallen asleep at some point during the walk. He found a cot to lay her down on before going to get a warm blanket and pillow from his own bed to give her. When he returned, Fenris was carefully laying Cahir next to his sister. The twins curled into one another sweetly, both already stilling. Together Anders and Fenris got the pillow beneath both their heads before Anders tucked the now sleeping children under the blanket.

“Okay, where should we set him, Anders?” Marian asked as she and Aveline carefully navigated the stretcher into the clinic. Anders guided them to one of the larger cots and had them set Raelnor, stretcher and all, on it. Fenris shut and locked the door before he returned to help coral the children away to give Anders room to work.

Anders immediately began to check the boy over. His magic had been crackling beneath his skin as soon as he saw the blood on Raelnor’s lips and it surged forward when he called it.

As he had suspected, it was a broken rib in his lung. Anders pulled the potions he would need to give Raelnor afterward he was done healing him and downed his emergency lyrium potion before he set to work. He forced himself to tune out his companions talking to the children, keeping them distracted so the healer could focus. Once the rib was back in place and his lung healed as much as Anders could with magic, he sent another pulse of magic to check for other injuries.

He found four of his other ribs were cracked and Anders was certain Raelnor had lost a tooth recently. His jaw was still swollen but it didn’t seem to be infected. Anders certainly had a few questions for Raelnor once he woke up. Once the pain had been alleviated, Raelnor had gone limp, unconscious without it or his struggle to breathe to keep him awake. Anders stepped away and found a sheet to cover him with. Having already determined he will have a clinic full of kids for the remainder of the night, he found what blankets and pillows he could for the remaining three children and set them out on cots near their siblings.

“Is Rae going to be okay?” Bree asked once she saw Anders had stepped away from her injured brother.

“Yes, he is,” he assured. He saw all of their eyes turned to where Raelnor was still sleeping deeply, unmoving besides his deep breaths beneath the sheet. “He needs to rest, his body still needs time to recover, but he’ll be right as rain in the morning. Now, it’s bedtime for everyone. Come on, come get settled.”

Bree came over willingly and ran her fingers over one of the blankets he had set out with awed eyes. She arranged it on the cot carefully before curling up beneath it at his gentle encouragement.

“Ros, Tanner, you too, c’mon. Bedtime.”

Startled, the two looked at each other.

“I- you are really okay with all staying here tonight?” Tanner asked, “even after we ruined your evening with your friends?”

“You didn’t ruin anything, sweet thing,” Isabela assured him, “me winning every time was getting boring and this was all very exciting.”

“She’s right. Not about winning every time but about it not being ruined. Of course you can stay here tonight, come lay down.”

“Can… can we stay the night more after this?” Rosalyn asked, her voice so hesitant that Anders felt it hit him like a physical blow.

“Of course,” he told her before he could question himself. “Come lay down, love, get some sleep.”

Once he got them settled, Anders returned to where his friends were watching him with various expressions. They mainly looked amused, Aveline still looked a little gobsmacked and Varric’s smirk and sly glances at Isabela said they were already planning a friend-fiction together about the evening. However it was the almost fond expression that Fenris wore that stole Anders' breath from his throat.

It’s because of the children , he told himself firmly. Fenris was good with them, with most children when given the chance, and he never seemed to run out of patience with questions or demands to be carried. It’s because he is fond of the children.

There was no denying that Fenris was handsome, devastatingly so if you asked Anders, but before when all they had done was snap and snarl at each other their differences had been too great to analyze that too closely.

“It’s clear you have it well in hand here, let me know if you need anything,” Hawke said and clapped him on the shoulder as she passed him to leave the clinic. Isabela pressed a kiss to his cheek before jogging to catch up with Marian.

“You got good kids, Blondie,” Varric teased. Aveline waved at him over her shoulder as she and the rogue followed Hawke and Isabela.

Then he and Fenris were alone, besides the children. “They are lucky to have you, mage.”

“I can be pretty handy to have around,” Anders deflected weakly. “I’m just the only one they know to go to.”

“Doubtful, they appear to be very resourceful. They have chosen you because you are a good man. I will see you later, good night Anders,” Fenris said.

“Be safe, you have a good night too,” he answered lamely, tongue tied by this new, earnest side of Fenris he had never seen. He wanted to call out, tell Fenris he was a good man too but the warrior was already gone, the clinic door closed behind him.

Since the children had come into Anders’ life, since that first night Fenris had seen him heal Raelnor, something had shifted between them. It was something new and fragile that Anders refused to examine too closely for fear of breaking it, but nonetheless it was something. It had softened their fights to just bickering and the elf seemed to stop and truly listen to Anders more than he had in the past. Anders hadn’t felt inclined to pray to the Maker or Andraste since Karl’s death, but he prayed that night.

Please, Maker, keep this little family safe, he prayed. I know they aren’t mine, I know I don’t deserve any of them, but please look after Fenris and the children.

(please leave kudos and comments on ao3 if you enjoyed!)

#fenris x anders #fenders da2 #fenders da #anders da2 #fenris da2 #arty writes

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dragoneyes618 · 3 years

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So there's this rogue kit. Officially, she has black fur with brown flecks and yellow eyes (I'll explain why later)but unofficially, I keep imagining her as gray.

She was born without a front right paw. Her mother, who is rather callous, to put it mildly (again, I'll explain later) had three other kits and decided not to bother to waste milk on a three-pawed one. She didn't even name her. However, she couldn't quite bring herself to abandon her kit so young. So she waited until the kit had opened her eyes and started walking, and then she picked her up and carried her as far away as she could walk and still be back at her den at nightfall and then left her there.

Technically, she could still survive. Never mind the fact that she's between 1/2-1 moon old and is not anywhere near weaned. Anyway, so she would have died, except that a young tom named Strike (black fur, white stripe in the middle of his forehead) found her. If he was a Clan cat, he would be the age of a young apprentice. He brought her back to the group of rogues where he lived.

This group of rogues basically had a mentality that if you live with them, you contribute. If you don't, get out. They weren't going to let a kit die, though. So they gave her to a she-cat named Prickle whose personality matched her name and told her to nurse her.

Prickle basically treated the kit like Lizardstripe treated Brokenstar. She didn't name her either. She actively encouraged her three kits (they all have names like Thistle and Thorn) to bully the kit. She didn't give her enough milk, and weaned her very early. After all, she was missing a paw! What was the point?

The rogues decided that the kit should help Fox. Fox was the closest thing they had to a medicine cat. He was pretty good with herbs. So the leader decided that he should be the healer. But Fox was like, "I don't want to be your healer! I want to go hunting!" But the leader was like, no, this is what you know, this is what you do for us, take it or leave it. So Fox resents being stuck gathering herbs all day and treating injured cats and occasionally ridiculed by them (until they need healing, of course).

Guess who he takes it out on. Yup.

Think of Fox as a genuinely mean-spirited Jayfeather. Jayfeather grumbles and grumps at people, but he's nice inside. Fox isn't.

The kit doesn't really get enough to eat either, because she's a kit and has no one to bring her food and even when she does manage to get prey, someone always says something like how it's being wasted because they don't think she's going to last long, what with having only three paws.

She has her own nest (nest: a piece of moss that happened to be growing there, although to be fair, that's what the nests of at least half the rogues look like) between the roots of a thin tree. After her "foster littermates" jump on her there one two many times she, at the age of less than three moons and with only three paws, learns how to scramble ungainly up the tree. Desperate times, desperate measures.

Pretty much the only cat who actually pays attention to her and is nice to her is Strike, the cat who found her. He feels somewhat responsible for her, since he found her in the first place. He finally gave her a name: Echo, after his mother.

Strike tries to do things like saving her a mouse and teaching her to hunt (while trying to ignore Fox's comments and grumbles) but he's like eight moons old, and he has to take care of himself, too, since the rule is basically "if you don't hunt then you don't eat." It works out pretty well for the able-bodied cats who are actually able to stick up for themselves instead of, you know, helpless kits.

Echo dreads helping Fox, but she has to. He'll give her quick instructions that he never mentioned before, won't repeat them, and then get mad that she mixed up the herbs or something. He'll cuff her hard with unsheathed claws, and also she's a kit, not even an apprentice, so it'll actually knock her off her paws. Sometimes he'll pick her up and throw her into the wall. He's cruel, even.

He's basically angry at the world and taking it out on Echo.

I feel really mean now. Don't worry, her life gets better! Not right away, though.

Echo's experiences "helping" Fox in the "medicine den" left such an impression on her that, even seasons and seasons later, the smell of herbs makes her feel anxious and sick.

At some point Fox knocks Echo into a river. She was never sure if it was accidentally or on purpose. Did I mention it's leaf-bare?

She can't swim, but she survives by clinging to a branch, and eventually washes up in the shallows of the river, where she stumbles out and walks until she collapses under a bush just inside ThunderClan territory. So one fine morning a patrol is patrolling and somebody smells something odd and finds a half-dead, half-frozen kit under a bush.

They bring her back to camp. She wakes up in the medicine den, which is not very good for her, and neither is the presence of Jayfeather or Alderheart, since they smell of herbs.

Daisy is there, though. Daisy basically ends up adopting her. This is good for Daisy, too, as she's recently lost two of her own kits, Rosepetal and Berrynose. Anyway, so once Daisy convinces her to tell them a little bit about herself, they realize that a. call back the patrols, we're not finding a mother anywhere near here, and b. we are not sending her back to those rogues.

One of the first advocates for taking Echo into the Clan is Twigbranch, because she knows what it's like to be a kit alone with no family. Another one is Jayfeather, because he's like "When I was a kit you didn't know what I would be able to do and yet here I am," although he probably says it much more rudely.

For the first week Echo sleeps by herself underneath and behind one of the big rocks in the hollow. For the second week, she sleeps in the nursery but by herself. For the third week, she starts sleeping in Daisy's nest.

On Echo's first day out of the medicine den, she steps out, glad to be out, realizes everyone is looking at her, freezes in panic, and then runs to the nearest den and hides there until Daisy finds her, and that's how she ended up becoming friends with the elders and hearing all the Clan stories.

The apprentices basically adopt her as their mascot.

At the age of six moons, Echo is given the name Echopaw and apprenticed to Twigbranch.

It turns out (Echopaw likes to imagine telling the rogues this) that just because she has only three paws doesn't mean she can't hunt! It's hard, yes, but she can do it! She caught a mouse all by herself! So there!

Finleap and Brightheart give her tips on how to compensate for a missing limb.

At her first Gathering the other apprentices are like "You have no paws! Don't be silly, of course she has paws! But she's missing one! What happened? Does it hurt? How do you walk?" and she's like, "Like this," and walks a few steps to show them, and they're like, "Oh, cool," and then go on to the next interesting thing to talk about.

At some point, she meets Strike again. He decided to leave the rogues and go out by himself. What made him do this was the fact that a kit-Echopaw-disappeared and nobody bothered to look for her. They barely even noticed she was missing. He decided that he didn't want to be part of cats like these, and if it meant being on his own in an uncertain future, than so be it.

(No, Strike and Echopaw do not end up being mates when they grow up. He's like a big brother to her.)

The first time Violetshine sees Echopaw she stares at her in horror, then says, in answer to Twigbranch wondering what's wrong, "Nothing. Nothing." and then quickly changes the subject.

Because she recognized Echopaw.

Echopaw is the near-double of her mother, Raven.

Yes, that Raven.

Hence the black fur and yellow eyes. The brown flecks are from Echopaw's father, Roach.

The only cat who knows this for sure is Violetshine. She may or may not tell Twigbranch. The ShadowClan-former Kin cats may or may not have recognized her, as well as the ThunderClan cats who went to the gorge in The Apprentice's Quest.

Violetshine doesn't tell Echopaw, because she doesn't want her to carry this burden.

Echopaw is nothing like her mother. Bramblestar and Tawnypelt can sympathize.

Oh, And at some point she might meet Crow, one of her brothers, who it turns out is actually decent!

I don't actually have a warrior name or anything.

#warrior cats #daisy #daisy warriors #twigbranch #alderheart #jayfeather #violetshine #thunderclan #brightheart #finleap #child abuse #raven #raven warriors #raven warrior cats #roach warrior cats

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shy-magpie · 3 years

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RQG 156

live blog under the cut

Heads up about half way through I realized I go a bit further into analysis on where Zolf & the Kobolds are mentally than some people might be comfortable with. Just as they trust us to back off if the episode gets to real, I am trusting you to close the tab if my little live blog is hitting you wrong. If it makes a difference I have years between me and the reason I relate to this stuff.

"In Memorium" they are trying to kill us Ah they lampshaded the speed intros Yes Alex it is rather Paris Right to Azu & Zolf. Oh he's jumping right in. And there's my first pause of the episode. No “better” isn't a magic finish line you pass then never find yourself in that place again. No, knowing that doesn't mean you don't wonder if your back at square one every time you realize You Are In A Bad Place and Not Handling it Well. Gosh Azu is good at this. Yeah learning to walk away is hard. Learning to ignore the part of yourself that says "and never come back for their sake" is harder. Symbolic much Alex (Zolf is too small for the room, Azu is too large) Yeah it would be easier to not blame Zolf for last episode if I related to him a bit less. Okay they are talking about Hamid and their concerns for him directly. Yeah Hamid's relationship with power & privilege is an arc; and without the Doylist level of trusting Bryn & Alex, I can see where even if you trust/like him you'd be worried about it. With the best of intentions people misuse power. Azu quoted Grizzop at Zolf. Didn't name him, wonder if Zolf is ever going ask directly about his replacement in canon or if its best left to fic. Its easy to dismiss one's own successes. Okay fair and OW, Zolf isn't up to talking about Sasha; which is the part of this I was most prepared for. Hell yeah! He is coming down but not going to be attempting to lead so as to relieve pressure on himself. Maybe if he can let Hamid step up without making a Kew Garden thing he'll see how much he's grown. Hopefully without that setting off a "Hamid does better without me" thing. Yeah intellectual knowledge and it feeling real on an emotional level are very different things. Alex, why does it matter what order they are in? ALEX? The necklace? The Heart of Aphrodite shaped necklace? Azu got a Sign from Aphrodite approving of her reaching out to Zolf as an act of love. Yes! Blue Black no take backs! Yeah those two (players) know exactly what they are doing: breaking my heart in the best ways and not skipping over the actual work those two (characters) need to put into their relationship with OOC "its all fine now"s. Ok that settles the timeline, Azu went up same night, the device isn't made yet. Yeah Zolf wouldn't, probably best to back off while things are tender while being present enough to assure he isn't planning on leaving. Seriously bless Azu, this has to be at least as hard on her as Helen but she is letting the boys have room to work it out for themselves instead of "trying to help". The last thing either of them need right now is pressure especially on this point. Aw the Kobolds teach Cel draconic. Oh smart kid, not only is it just logical for the Kobolds to work with Cel directly, it might help them get over the "looking to see if the boss approves of how you breathe" stage. Especially if he is clear about not being threatened by them having advantage over him in this area. Heck of a relief this isn't hitting my rank issues. Ooh all the Kobolds are amazing engineers, wonder if its a Kobold thing or if Skraak recruited people with similar interests. Nice rework of the "Kobolds build traps" thing from pathfinder. I genuinely love how instead of pitching the original description of Kobolds out the window, Alex has backwards engineered it. Reputation for traps isn't a dishonorable approach to fighting, its a sign of their skill. They aren't minions, their trauma is interacting with a cultural attitude about rank in weird ways. Oh Cel! Cel is amazing. Under Shoin's orders they: made Magic Steroids, did maintenance (more towards the end as Shoin wasn't taking care of things), built the place initially, sourced ingredients, other Kobolds built the Mechkraken. Damn Shoin, they can't even be proud of all they were able to do in adverse circumstances because he tainted it. If they weren't forced to do it and have it used for ill ends, building the kraken would be impressive. A lot of that sounds like difficult work. Hamid stuff: yeah it is from a place of fear; and they would be hypersensitive and need to try to "defend him" so he doesn't react. Terrified of his anger? Handle anything that even annoys him to cut it off at the pass. And being a good person who doesn't like scaring them, Hamid is going to over do the very "Mary Sunshine" routine that makes Zolf think he doesn't appreciate the gravity of the situation. You'd think Mr "do a grief later" would get that Hamid doesn't have to walk the halls wailing to be aware of the end of the world. Not that the kid can win, if he cried and threw up it would be proof he hasn't grown from season one. Hopefully by taking a back seat Zolf will have a chance to see Hamid's actions and realize being chipper & wholesome doesn't mean stupid. Oh Alex has thought this through, one of these days I'll quit being surprised he actually gets this stuff. Not being able to read the person whose emotions feel like life & death is a Bad Thing. Thank Alex for Skraak. Weird seeing this stuff from this side, of course learning to focus on my end instead of being preoccupied with what was going on in the heads of people who were on Hamid's end of it was rather the point. Perfect balance, Hamid gives them enough space to realize he isn’t going to explode, Skraak "translates" into something clear enough not to stress them out. Like when Zolf snapped at Skraak when he pledged to Hamid; might not be pretty but not knowing what The Powers That Be want? Very bad place. Rank and clear orders are very important when appeasing those who outrank you is everything. Cel has dealt with a lot of young and unsure apprentices!?! Yeah well Cel isn't in their chain of command and gears don't get offended if you have an opinion on the right way to configure them. Cel is great Azu & Hamid talking about Zolf! Helen is wonderful! I thought this was going to be drawn out and indirect, instead they are actually facing things head on and dealing with them. Aw these two are so good for each other. Azu would set aside her own emotions. Hot damn Azu, getting right to it! Hamid can be amazingly open about his self awareness and it surprises me every time. It fits him and is a very good thing, but going from answering "how are you?" with "the Kobolds are doing well" to "I never knew how to help him" without it being jarring made me do quite the double take. Guess I was expecting more deflection. Yeah well you two are redefining your boundaries, entire relationship, and rank in specific, while being the perhaps the only people with enough of the picture to figure out how to save the world. Working out the balance between conflicting views on that, when neither of you knows what the end will look like was never going to be smooth. Oh yes and none of you have directly addressed that half of Zolf's rank & dick measuring stuff is because he doesn't know if he even has a role if he isn't The Boss or The Healer.* Oh the grin in Alex's voice as he tells them there is something else before the brorb interview. Whisky tumblers for each? Quite a sigh there Ben News? Big news? While they were in the institute? They ought to sit down. Wilde get to it. Ah Azu & Hamid are holding hands. Poor kid with his prop. Letter? Ancient Rome? Sasha? Are all the fics coming true? Their founder "Askingus"!?! Oh Sasha, oh Zolf! Lydia! Oh the kids! She named the kids after the party. She even found her faith. A break? How the hell are we only half way through the episode. Also hell yeah Lydia deserves all the awards, that was an amazing letter. XD Ben! Oh Hamid, we reacted that way to the epilogue that way too. It really is okay, it was a good end. Yeah he could use a drink. Poor Zolf. Hamid gives Wilde a hug. "technically I think that makes Sasha my boss". XP be cryptic Alex, The RSB will have it figured out by Friday. Ok Zolf got to read the letter on his own. Azu lit 3 candles, because Helen wants me to cry. Hamid is at Zolf's door with a bottle and two glasses. Lydia this is a compliment to your skill. More direct than I expected from Hamid. Oh these two! Okay he is drunk enough to go there (angry at Zolf for leaving but he gets it). About time someone told Zolf directly he's grown. Aw Zolf puts him to bed. Thank you Alex! Ben! (okay fair, if any of Hamid was left he'd cuddle). Sorry Cel! Lydia wanted to break/heal our hearts more than she wanted the plot to move forward ;) Good plan: take the orb to the anti magic field, only those who have already talked to it can talk directly. Info control. Hive mind/telepathy directly addressed. Finally what Shoin eats is addressed. Ok Cel has some teeth on them. Hasn't fed it, is using the vibration to threaten to explode his brain, (no English doesn't have enough pronouns we are working on it)... Oh good point better feed it. Aw Zolf is possessive of the kitchen. Shoin is still Shoin. Cel is not happy about not being recognized. Nice to hear the boys working together. The Infection might block him from being directly aware of being infected. Bullsh$% he backed himself up. Good point Zolf even if he does, they are separate lives, this instance can still fear death. Oh all the party have teeth, nice they don't have the "good guys have to be sweet & gentle with the baddies" thing Yeah Cel isn't stupid, the brorbs arm isn't a threat. Oh auto painting that will make the people theorizing on the bio side of how the Brorb works happy. A circulatory diagram, and am ocean of faces. Paints like a printer. A creepy charcoal sketch of London staring at the artist. *I swear on Rusty Tower if they let him hurt himself any worse because he thinks his new role is "a brick wall on wheels" I am joining the line to fight Ben in a Whetherspoons parking lot. Yes it would be in character but so would healing. There are other hills. Although seriously its been great having a character that shows so many of the aspects of depression that usually get left out. That Zolf is also a three dimensional character with a full personality beyond just "the one with mental health issues" while not making it look like those issues are tacked on or easy to handle? Stunning work.

#Rusty Quill Gaming #RQG Spoilers #alcohol #live blog thingy #RQG 156

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redcameleon · 4 years

Text

SSM 2020 Day 1

Prompt: Stuck with You

Summary: At the end of the war, Sakura was tasked to keep a close eye at Sasuke. Even though things started off awkward, they somehow managed.

Rating: K+. curse word.

A/N: This ended up longer than I expected hehe. Enjoy~

With the war over, there’s bound to be lots of things to clean up after. The Allied Shinobi Forces plans to continue on for as long as possible, which means new treaties need to be made. Damage control needs to occur, and there’s people needing to be healed.

One loose end that needs to be tied neatly into a bow is none other than Uchiha Sasuke. Deciding to come back to Konoha with the rest of them, they can’t just let him loose without supervision.

“What?” Sakura reiterates back after hearing the Hokage’s command.

“Didn’t you hear me? You’ll be keeping a close eye on Sasuke while he’s in the village. Don’t leave him out of your sight. Just make sure he’s not trying to kill anybody. And maybe try to make him feel more comfortable. Surely you can do that, right?”

“Umm but-”

“I mean you’re perfect for the job! No one knows him better than you do.” Do I? Sakura thinks.

“So basically, I’m stuck with him?” She raises a questioning brow.

“It’ll just be for a few weeks. We’ll see his progress and decide whether further supervision is necessary. You’ll report back to me every two days. You’re dismissed.” Having received a direct order from the Hokage, that means she most likely can’t defy it.

Tsunade leans back in her chair, watching her former apprentice walk out of the room. She has to admit another reason why she’s tasked Sakura for the job is for her sake. Tsunade hopes that by doing this, they can begin to repair their bond. She’s placing her bet on them, on things turning out for the better.

Sakura doesn’t even know how to start. Does she just show up at his apartment and pretend that they’re fine? What would she and him even talk about? She can’t imagine how awkward it will be. She knows she’ll have to see him more often now that he’s back in the village. She just didn’t imagine it would be this soon.

She knocks on his door a few times. She hears some footsteps before the door swings open.

“Hi, Sasuke-kun.” She tries to quirk a smile.

“Sakura.”

“Umm I was wondering if you’ve eaten yet. I brough some onigiri for lunch. You still like them, right?”

“Hn.” He steps back into the apartment with Sakura following suit behind him.

Silence.

Sakura is inwardly kicking herself to say something.

“So, what have you been up to?” Is the only thing she can come up with on the spot. She watches as Sasuke turns around to face her, raising his eyebrow. Her gaze is immediately fixed to the missing limb. That might not have been the best thing to say, seeing how he is probably having a hard time doing things with only one arm. He probably has a list of things he wants to do but can’t.

“Is the pain still bothering you?” She manages to stir the conversation.

“No.” She sighs in relief. Even if he feels pain in the smallest amount, she knows he won’t tell her. She decides that she should call it a day in her attempt to befriend (approach? monitor?) Sasuke.

“Well I think I’m gonna head out. I’ll leave this on the table. I’ll see you later, Sasuke-kun.” She lets herself out.

She knows Sasuke is good now. He helped them end the war, and he’s even agreed to come back home to Konoha with them. But even though last time, they were fighting side by side, it still doesn’t excuse the messy tangled thread that is their relationship. She doesn’t even know where to begin to untangle it. A part of her hopes she can undo them. Does he want to though? Or will it be another effortless attempt from her end to salvage what’s left of their relationship? Sakura can’t help but drown in these questions.

The next day, she asks him to come to the hospital for a checkup. She thinks she can make work an excuse to see with him. After all what other choices does she have at the moment?

She sits in her office, holding a clipboard and scribbling down some things when she hears a knock on the door.

“Come in.” The door slides open and Sasuke enters. “You’re here! Have a seat, Sasuke-kun.” He does as he’s told.

She begins to unravel the bandages around his left shoulder, and not long afterwards a familiar green glow begins to appear. She takes her time to examine the flesh and notes down her observation.

“It’s healing real nicely! And I’m glad you're not experiencing any pain.” She covers up the wound with new bandages. “I heard Naruto and Kakashi-sensei are researching on making prosthetic arms. Hopefully they can be done soon.”

“Hn.” She notices his expression seems indifferent. She grabs this opportunity to ask him a few questions she’s been curious to know the answer to.

“How are you doing?” Sasuke turns to look at her, curious at where she’s heading with this question. Sasuke ponders whether she’s referring to his missing arm or something bigger than that. Should he just lie and be done with it?

“Tired.” Sakura is not taken aback by his answer. She does notice the faint dark circles under his eyes. And he does seem more sluggish? She can’t possibly imagine the burden he’s currently carrying. But she’s trying to understand him little by little. She places a hand on his shoulder, trying to reassure him that she’s there.

“If you ever need anything, let me know.” He stays there for a while before getting up and heading for the door. Sakura gathers up her courage and asks him. “Do you wanna grab dinner together?” Sasuke pauses in his step and stays there for a moment, as if he’s considering whether or not he should take her offer.

“Sure.” He opens the door and closes it behind him. A part of Sakura seems to brighten up just a bit. She quickly files his paper in a folder and tucks it in her cabinet. She takes off her coat before exiting her office. Sasuke’s leaning on the wall across from her office. He waits for her until she approaches him.

“There’s this really great dumpling shop next to the hospital and I think we could try that.” Sasuke shrugs his shoulder and begins to walk to exit the building.

“Sure.” She catches up to him.

Dinner is quiet. Sakura doesn’t make tons of comments, deciding to let silence occupy them for now. Sakura notices even though he appears distant for now, he doesn’t seem to reject her or push her away. That part, she’s certain. She begins to hope that things will get better. Are getting better?

It basically sums up their whole relationship afterwards. She doesn’t try to do anything extravagant. All her efforts are just trying to show Sasuke that Konoha is still livable, that Konoha is still their home, that the people living here are not evil, that he can and will heal, that she’s there for him no matter what. Slowly, she feels like her message is getting across to him.

Some days she would bring food to his place and they would eat together. At first, they don’t say anything, but small talks are beginning to be made. Her second tactic is to try to take him around Konoha, letting him see the newer parts of town, even though after Pein’s destruction almost all of Konoha is new. She likes to think he is listening to her whenever she’s rambling on about the shops she likes in Konoha and the new buildings being built, and yes actually he has been.

Other days they spar with each other. Sakura thinks their relationship must’ve progressed a lot of Sasuke to agree to spar with her. Then again, Sasuke seems to be the kind of person to take on a fight with anyone. It might be the only way for him to vent out some pent-up frustration without being punished. They always end up well, though. No one is hurt badly and even if they were, Sakura can heal them in a jiff.

She believes things are finally looking up for them. There’s no more awkwardness between them and Sakura thinks Sasuke is finally getting more comfortable around her. He’s not putting up a guard around her anymore, she’s beginning to let loose a bit more too, occasionally teasing him.

“I think he’s doing really well.” Sakura smiles as she reports back to the Hokage. The older woman leans back in her chair in satisfaction.

“That’s what I like to hear. Now unfortunately I have another mission for you.” Sakura widens her eyes in curiosity. “A nearby village needs our help to heal their sick, and I’m sending you and a couple other medics and jounins.”

“How long will I be gone?”

“Hm.. probably a week. Why? Are you sad now that you can’t be beside Sasuke?” Sakura tries to fight the blush that’s slowly creeping up to the tips of her ears.

“Psh no.” Maybe. Tsunade chuckles in amusement and hands her a scroll filled with the mission’s details.

“You leave tomorrow.”

“I’ve been assigned a new mission tomorrow.” Sakura drops in the news in the middle of their dinner. Sasuke looks up from his plate to look at her. “It shouldn’t take more than a week. It’s nothing dangerous. I think..”

Sasuke hums in response before digging back in his food. This is probably the last meal they’ll spend together before she embarks on her one-week-long mission. Sasuke doesn’t know whether it’s his feeling or if the night is going by quicker than usual.

She leaves first thing in the morning.

Sasuke wakes up later than usual and lets out a heavy sigh. The day is going to be more dull now that he doesn’t have someone to spend it with. He’s gotten so used to seeing her everyday that not seeing her for a week might have an effect on him. Back then, he’s gotten so used to the loneliness. Now that he’s experienced company, he longs for it more than ever.

He hears a knock on the door followed by a familiar voice.

“Oi Sasuke!” Sasuke groans in frustration. “I know you’re in there! Open up!” Naruto hollars, banging the door a few times. Sasuke gets up and opens the door to be met with a grinning blonde. “Oi!” He closes the door back on his face and treads to the bathroom.

Naruto decides to let himself in now that he’s made his presence clear.

“Tsunade-baachan told me to keep an eye on you until Sakura-chan gets back.” Great. One whole week with Naruto. Sasuke curses under his breath. This is going to be a long week.

One week couldn’t have gone sooner enough. Sasuke hears the news that Sakura is back from his mission when Naruto barges in his apartment that very morning.

“Hey, let’s grab lunch with Sakura-chan! I just saw her head to the Hokage’s tower.”

“No.” He dismisses his friend and grabs his coat before heading out of his apartment.

“Wait where are you going?” Naruto reaches out to stop him but Sasuke disappears in a blink.

“Good work Sakura, you’re dismissed.” Sakura bows before making her way to exit the Hokage’s office. “Oh and, I think Sasuke still needs to be kept under close supervision. I assume you’re still up to the task?” Tsunade finishes in a sarcastic tone. They obviously know from her recent reports that they can be sure Sasuke is not going to attack anyone. Sakura smiles before turning back to look at her former Master.

“Yes! You can count on me!” She walks down the stairway, feeling lighter and giddier than ever. She wonders what Sasuke did throughout the week she’s gone. She heard that Naruto had been in charge keeping him company and she can’t wait to hear all about it. As she exits the gate, she notices a figure leaning on the wall. She takes a closer to see someone familiar and walks towards him.

“Hi Sasuke-kun!” She clasps her hands behind her back, leaning forward. “Did you miss me?” Sakura giggles as she teases him.

“Hn.” Sasuke scoffs. I did. He can’t seem to utter the words though. He hands her the plastic bag he’s been carrying. Sakura takes it and peers in to examine the contents. Her face lights up.

“Oh my gosh I’ve been craving for these!” He’s taken the time to bring something from her favorite restaurant. He remembers how much Sakura brags about them.

“Lunch at my place?” Sasuke offers.

“Mm! That sounds lovely.” She smiles as they walk together side by side, the back of their palms occasionally brushing against each other, sending jolts of electricity through their body. “Wait, then will Naruto be there as well?”

Shit. He’s forgotten about Naruto. He scoffs in annoyance which can’t help but make Sakura laugh.

“We can always go to my place.” He thinks, that might not be such a bad idea after all.

#ssff #ssfanfiction #sasusaku fanfiction #sasusaku #sasuke #sakura #otp #redcameleon!writes #ssm20 #ssm20d1

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reirashi · 4 years

Note

Prompt: "You promised you wouldn't hurt anyone if I came with you willingly to heal your friend!" Kakasaku please! (and if you're okay with it, maybe Kakashi is the one abducting Sakura to heal Obito...? I wasn't sure if abduction counted as 'forced') Thank you!!

Sorry for the delay! This is set after the fourth great war, assuming Obito’s body is somewhere to be found.

Chrysalis

Kakashi had been different recently. Changed. Sakura hadn’t paid specific attention to it till their team meeting where Kakashi had zoned out completely. Normally he was never an active participator in conversation, but he was always present. The small crinkling of his eye when he heard something funny, or the furrow in his brow when Naruto plunged on about Sasuke. But this time was different. He was absent somehow, a vague distance in his eyes.

Nobody else noticed and somehow that bothered her more.

So, on that fateful night, when Kakashi crawled through her window, shrouded in the darkness and rain, Sakura was surprised but not that surprised.

More pissed off than anything that he had taken down three of her potted plants in his ungraceful manoeuvre.

…And slightly wishing she were dressed better than her ratty shorts and cropped t-shirt, no bra and tub of chocolate ice-cream shamelessly half-eaten in hand.

“Kakashi!” She exclaimed aghast and chastising all in one.

Her outrage fell on deaf ears and all she heard was the broken rasp as he called her voice, “Sakura,” agonised and conflicted.

“What- What’s wrong sensei?” Suddenly, her motherly concern overtook every other self-conscious thought, and she plonked the tub on the table and walked over to him hands outstretched ready to help.

But he turned away from her caring gaze, instinctively shied away from her.

“You have to come with me.” Was all he said and not a word more, eyes still glued to her pink carpet.

“Sensei, what do you mean? Where to?” She added when he offered no further information, her concern growing to panic.

“I-” he stopped, swallowing thickly. Sakura had never heard him hesitate in her life. “You need to heal someone.”

Sakura exhaled in a huff of relief, “Of course Sensei. Who? Actually, never mind, where are they? Let’s bring them to the hospital, or are they already there?”

Immediately tying her hair in a messy bun, and walking around her apartment looking for the all the right items to make her decent, she didn’t notice Kakashi’s stillness till she was hopping back through her kitchen, looking for her other shoe.

“Sensei what is it?”

He said nothing so she stopped her manic dressing and looked at him, but his head was turned away.

“Sensei,” she repeated, a hardness to her voice.

“We can’t bring them to the hospital. We have to go to them.”

“Uh okay, then we’ll have to stop by the hokage tower for the permission slip-” she paused thinking aloud, “Actually we might have to stop by Kotetsu’s office direct since it’s probably after hours.”

“Sakura.” Kakashi raised his head for the first time since arriving, and in his eyes she saw all the thunder and darkness he had brought in from the outside. “We are not getting permission.”

“But Sensei-”

“Pack your things. We are leaving now.”

Crossing her arms across her chest, Sakura’s expression was tight as she replied, “Do I have a choice?”

He said nothing, but his dark expression said it all.

“Fine.” Was all she said, as she stormed off into her room and threw her mission and medic items into her bag, grabbing a few extra weapons and body-guards just in case.

When she returned to her living room, Kakashi was standing ready to leave, her potted plants tidied and moved aside, and her window locked.

“How do we even-” Sakura questioned bitterly, but Kakashi interrupted her.

“Follow me.”

In the next day or so the pair did nothing but travel in absolute silence. Sakura, though wanting to bridge the uncomfortable gap, struggled to squash her hurt pride at Kakashi’s lack of trusting her with information. Eventually though, the silence grew too much, and just as Sakura had resolved to break it with some inane topic, her words morphed into a scream as she plunged from the height of the tree that had been her footfall, her shoes - unsuitable for this terrain - how was she to know! - squealing against the wet bark as she slipped.

Strong fingers wrapped around her wrist, catching her mid-fall. Though he had been a good few trees ahead of her Kakashi had got to her quick. Silently he pulled her up, sliding a hand around her back and pulling her up by the waist once she was close enough.

The bark was thin and covered in wet moss. Kakashi held absolutely still to prevent them tumbling over the edge. Grabbing onto his vest to steady herself, her eyes met with Kakashi’s for the first time that night.

There was a sadness she wished to soothe away, her fingers twitching in response. Kakashi too, did not pull away like usual, he held on a beat longer than he normally would have.

Then, in the blink of an eye the walls were up again, and instead of the inches between them there was a chasm.

In one step he had turned away and leaped to the next branch, leading the way, but not before a few unexpected words of reassurance slipped out, “We’re almost there”.

Sure enough, half a mile or so later, Kakashi slowed down before dropping silently to the ground below. The ground was wet and mossy, little light filtered through the thick canopy of trees overhead.

Kakashi led them to a large overgrown fern, twice Sakura’s height. He reached in and peeled apart the two walls of leaves which camouflaged some kind of entrance. They stepped inside to a dark, eerily silent space. Sakura couldn’t tell if it was a cave or a hollowed out tree.

Kakashi stopped wordlessly at the far end of the circular space, placing his hand gently onto what looking like a sort of ledge. Sakura walked slowly closer till she was by his side, her footsteps squelching in the wet mud. As she passed around the broad cover of Kakashi’s back her eyes laid upon what wasn’t a ledge but some sort of glass coffin.

The gasp got caught in her throat as she realised it wasn’t glass but some kind of membrane. She reached out her fingers to touch it, but a hand clamped down on her wrist stopping her fingers just before they touched.

“It’ll break.”

“W-who set this up?”

“I don’t know.”

“But you are going to make it work.” There was a long pause after which he turned around and walked out the small space, announcing in a low voice, “I’m going to get firewood, get started.”

Sakura stared at the coffin in disbelief, sending chakra to her fingers to feel it out. She shuddered on first contact, immediately understanding who and what was inside.

She turned around and sprinted out the enclosure, panting like she couldn’t breathe. Once outside she used her chakra to get some indication as to how far Kakashi had gone and took off running in the opposite direction.

She barely made it three miles before she skidded to a stop, almost colliding face-first with an anbu mask. She hesitated confused, not sure in their eyes which side she was on.

“Are you here for me? Can you help?” Sakura asked in a shaky voice.

The woman paused, caught off-guard by the Godaime’s apprentices’ words.

“Haruno-sama, you left the village without permission early this morning. Was this against your will?”

It was Sakura’s turn to pause. Would this be selling Kakashi out?

“Well...”

She didn’t have time to debate her principles because Kakashi appeared behind the woman, slick as a shadow and with a speedy chop she was at their feet like a sack of potatoes.

When Sakura met Kakashi’s eyes there was a darkness she couldn’t quite make out.

“Okay, okay.” Laughing nervously, Sakura held up her hands in resignation. “I’ll come help heal your friend, just... just don’t hurt anyone else.”

Kakashi was silent but Sakura couldn’t take his stony exterior and turned away, walking stiffly back the way she had come.

A few paces in they froze as another anbu member appeared from the trees and Sakura opened her mouth to explain holding her hands up placatingly, but before she had a chance the man’s eyes went wide and foam from his mouth escaped the bottom of his mask, before he hit the ground with a thud.

Sakura shuddered as the thick, oppressive wave of a genjustu passed over her.

Kakashi without his Sharingan was just as powerful and terrifying as he was with.

But the fear lasted only a few second as she regained courage and spun around, slamming her fists on her teacher’s chest.

And from Sakura that shit actually hurt.

“You promised you wouldn’t hurt anyone!”

“I promised no such thing.” He hissed in a low voice.

Sakura turned away angrily, realising he was correct, but that only fuelled her anger at him. Because she had expected the answer to her earlier request to be a given.

“Huh, that’s funny,” she scoffed mirthlessly, “I guess I mistook you for the Kakashi that actually gave a fuck and didn’t even need to be asked.”

Launching into a sprint, Sakura was back at the enclosure in a few minutes, her extra speed fuelled by anger and frustration. Kakashi silently kept up with her, wordless as he entered behind her.

Glowing with a deep green like the colour of her eyes, Sakura drew her hands across the top of the coffin, breathing deeply as she tried to concentrate and calm her emotions.

It could have been hours or mere minutes that Sakura stood there pulling her chakra across the vessel and exploring deep inside with Kakashi a silent protective or restrictive - whichever way you looked at it - presence behind her.

After analysing the structure Sakura began to prod, slipping beneath the skin and using her energy to pull the tissue together and stitch the seams.

A firm hand on her shoulder shocked Sakura out of concentration, and she extricated herself from the inner view of the tissue she hand been focusing on and looked over her shoulder.

Kakashi was watching her with a concerned look on his face. The same Kakashi as always. Only then did she realise the sweat dripping down her face and soaking the small of her back. The breath seemed to leave her the second she stopped the flow of chakra to her hands, and she slumped forward, body heading for the ground.

Kakashi caught her against himself, holding her still while she caught her breath. Eventually when it became apparent Sakura wouldn’t be moving any further, he slipped his arms around her waist and hauled her up, moving her to the other side of the enclosure where he had at some point, laid out tarp and blankets as a makeshift bed. It was clear he had visited here more than once, and over a long period of time too.

It carried on like a routine, for several days Sakura pushed herself to the absolute brink of exhaustion whilst she healed. Kakashi said nothing, he knew her well enough to know when Sakura became determined like this there was no stopping her. All he could contribute in his silence, was support in the way of catching her when she fell and putting her to rest, waking her after a few hours and guiding her half asleep to eat, before she fell asleep, woke up and repeated the cycle again.

Guilt clawed at his heart like a cancer and the longer it went on, the deeper their silence became.

Till one night, Sakura who had aside from that first experience, been stopping of her own volition, fainted and Kakashi who had been nearby just barely made it to catch her. He gently laid her down onto the bedding but was surprised as his fingers brushed her skin. She was burning up. Ripping his gloves off and pushing her hair from her face, he pressed the back of his palm against her forehead, cursing under his breath at the heat of her skin.

Her body convulsed slightly, and he noticed she was shivering, sweat had been pouring out of her skin and now her wet clothes were sticking to her body, causing her to tremble from the cold. Hesitating he pulled back the cover, and carefully lifted her soaked shirt over her head, rapidly pulling off his flack jacket and long sleeve shirt. Taking great care not to jostle her too much, he pulled his long sleeve top over her, aching at how the fabric drowned her small frame.

His hands stopped at her exposed legs, fingers lingering at the waist band to her skirt and shorts. With light touches he could feel their dampness but was battling with himself on what to do. Eventually he withdrew his hands, rummaging instead for the cloak they had worn during their travels and wrapping it around her body tightly.

Appraising her still shivering form, Kakashi clad only in his sleeveless mask-attached under-top, climbed under the thin blanket, and settled next to his student. Awkward at first, he agonised over how to position himself, before eventually he managed to shift her onto her side and he his, turning over to envelop her, resting her head against his chest, and his legs tangled with hers.

He thought he would never sleep that night. From the worry, the stress and mostly the guilt.

Surprisingly however he was out like a light. It seemed with Sakura firmly tucked in his arms, he finally had the mental peace to close his eyes and enter a state of deep sleep for the first time in days.

---------

Sakura awoke to a persistent thudding against her ear. Thinking she had slept too heavily on one side, she shifted to try roll over, only to find her body pinned in place. Opening her eyes, she was surprised to find her view blocked, that combined with the familiar scent of rain which she associated with her Sensei, Sakura looked up in surprise to find it was Kakashi who was pinning her.

Craning her neck upwards, her surprise quickly dissipated when she saw the look on Kakashi’s face. For days he had slept beside her, and while she had been borderline comatose most of the time, whenever she had woken briefly in the night, the look on Kakashi’s face always bothered on her.

Now was different. He seemed almost peaceful. His breathing steady and even, his eyebrows relaxed, his mouth...

Without thinking twice Sakura’s fingers crept up, carefully pinching the edge of the mask.

Slowly she inched the material down, anticipating some form of horrific revelation or divine retribution as she carried out what felt like borderline sacrilege. Instead, she was incredibly surprised at the completely normal soft, pink, top lip that appeared, contrasted by the dark of the mask as it cinched in the gap between his lips.

Sakura’s heart thudded in her chest, not quite wanting to admit to herself why her current view made her feel this way.

Glancing surreptitiously up at Kakashi before she made the final tug to reveal the rest of his no doubt completely normal and annoyingly handsome face, Sakura startled when her eyes met slate grey ones, half covered by long lashes.

Frozen like a delinquent caught in the middle of a crime, Kakashi moved so quick she didn’t have a chance to worry about being reprimanded. His eyes were wide with sudden awareness and swiftly he switched their positions, rolling Sakura onto her back so he could assess her with wide eyes.

Sakura could hardly breathe when, pushing his forehead protector and fringe out of the way, Kakashi leaned over and pressed his forehead against hers, checking her temperature.

She felt his warm breath across her cheeks as he sighed deeply in relief, realising belatedly she only felt it because she had pulled his mask half-off. Distracted by the fact, and with his face in better view on top of her, Sakura couldn’t stop herself reaching up and slipping her finger back into the edge.

Long fingers curled around her wrist stopped her, and she found her hand pinned above her head before she knew it. A smirk found its way onto her face. There were many things she couldn’t keep up with her teammates on, but competitiveness was not one of them. She stretched up across the short distance between them, tilting her head and daringly grabbing the edge of the mask between her teeth.

Even Kakashi didn’t know how to react, frozen as he was.

Pinching and pulling the material, she stopped when her lips brushed against his warm ones, the gravity of their closeness finally sinking in. Her teeth parted and the material slipped from between them, her lips still barely against his.

She didn’t know who started it. If she bridged that hairsbreadth gap or if he pushed down first, their slightly parted lips finally pressed together. It was gentle at first, his eyes closed as he seemed to sigh in almost relief, before the life returned to his eyes. Kakashi was back. The same Kakashi that was fire and fangs and cutting intelligence on the battlefield was viciously moving his lips against hers, heavy breaths barely escaping in between, before his hand not pinning her wrist grabbed her jaw and held it tight, coaxing it open. His tongue slipped in, hot and wet and then he froze. Almost as if he remembered what he was and who he was with.

He pulled back, his lips not wanting to separate from her swollen ones, but he only made it a handspan away from her before he found himself thrown sideways, flipped onto his back and pinned down by his student.

Sakura smirked darkly, she recognised his reaction, knew what he would do, and knew she wouldn’t let it happen. He wasn’t allowed to retreat now and act like nothing had happened. Not after that.

Pressing her lithe body against his, she leaned down and gently brushed her lips against his, parting them only to draw her tongue across his lower lip before she pressed down in a fierce kiss. He resisted valiantly for all of ten seconds, before his lips parted, his mouth opened, and he gasped as he let her in. Strong hands grasped the thighs straddling his wait, squeezing the soft flesh as his mouth was ravaged. Unable to take inactivity anymore, one hand reached up and around her back, threading his fingers in her soft hair and tilting her head to the side whilst he moved his mouth down, biting her bottom lip, nipping along her jaw, drawing a wet trail down to her neck where his teeth pinched sharply before sucking on the reddened skin.

It seemed to be a weak spot for Sakura as a shaky exhale mixed with a soft moan escaped her. She craned her neck further to the side to give him better access, whilst her body naturally melded closer against his, her hips rubbing against his and oh sweet heavens did she just grind against her sensei’s-

Sakura’s thought process was interrupted as her body lilted to the side and was overtaken with a numbness and tingling that was most definitely not pleasure.

“Kaka-” Sakura gasped; the light-headed sensation combined with Kakashi assaulting her neck was proving too much to think around.

Clumsily she managed to extricate one hand from his chest and slide it up to her neck where she all but slapped it across his face. For a moment Kakashi hadn’t caught up and his tongue slid against her hand and between her fingers and oh my god that’s way sexier than it has any right to be and maybe it’ll be ok if I let him keep going and pass out like this...

But it was too late, Kakashi had caught up and awareness was bright in his eyes though understandably not yet down below. He leaned up on his elbows, his hands immediately circling her face, tilting her head towards him so he could assess her.

“M’ok,” Sakura mumbled, dropping her head against the palms holding her cheeks. “Just a bit faint,” she sighed breathlessly.

“Sakura.” His voice was thick with emotion and rough around the edges in a way she had never heard it before. “I’m so-”

Sakura interrupted him, fingers covering his mouth as she rested her head more fully on his shoulder, her voice muffled by his body, “Don’t. It was me too.”

He was silent as he manoeuvred her body to be more comfortable on him, but Sakura could practically hear his guilt and worry.

“Just... help feed me some water.” Kakashi sat them both carefully up, bringing the canteen to her lips and guiding her to drink. Sakura couldn’t help but marvel at the strangeness of it, they had gone from anger on her part and silence on his end, to passionately making out, with no discussions or resolution of conflict in between. The weirdest thing of all was how natural it had been. And how much she hadn’t wanted it to end. Sakura had no idea she had such inclinations towards Kakashi till now. Sure, there had been the odd thought here and there, but it had never been something manifestable in reality. Judging from the deep, bewildered concentration on Kakashi’s face, it seemed he felt the same way. Behind his upfront concern for her, it seemed he too was contemplating what had just happened and why they had reacted the way they had.

Granted, she was still very much cradled in his lap with her head resting on his shoulder, so maybe now really wasn’t the time for such musings.

Sakura didn’t move till she felt truly stable and ready and Kakashi didn’t hurry her either. A part of her feared the distance he would put between them the second she was on her feet, and so she revelled in the attention as he carefully helped her sip water and supported her sluggish body against his own. After the last week of painful awkwardness and distance between them, this was a welcome excuse for closeness, and Sakura enjoyed it so much she had to hold herself back from snuggling against his neck and chest.

Eventually she felt stable enough to raise her head, and she did so tentatively, pausing for a moment whilst the ringing in her ears passed. Nodding to herself once, she looked up at Kakashi who had been watching her intently.

“Help me up.”

Wordlessly he slipped his hands around her slim waist as he crouched and gradually brought himself into a standing position, carefully bringing her with him.

Once up, she leaned heavily against him as the blood rushed through her body, and while she waited for the sensation to settle Sakura was reminded of Kakashi’s tall, lean form as she pressed against him. Clad only in his undershirt, his muscles stood out through the thin material, his naked arms even more so.

Since when did Kakashi get so hot? Or more like why has it taken me so long to notice!

Sakura sighed at the blindness of her youth, wasted away on trivial teenage boys that never returned her affection or valued her abilities.

And yet here was someone who valued her enough to kidnap her and use her for a top-secret project which he had asked of no one else. To Sakura, who had always been kept in the dark, always the last to know, she felt almost honoured by the inclusion, if it hadn’t been shrouded in such secrecy.

Returning to the matter at hand, Sakura slowly stepped away from Kakashi and towards the chrysalis, her fingers gently stretching out. A firm hand around her wrist stopped her and Sakura looked up at Kakashi who bore an angered, agonised expression.

“That’s enough!” He bit out between clenched teeth, and Sakura could tell he was angrier at himself for making her do this than he was with her for wanting to continue.

Sakura smiled softly, turning her wrist around and slipping her hand into his. Gently she turned his hand over so her palm lay atop his.

“It is.” Sakura began in a quiet voice. “It’s enough. This is the best I can do; the rest is down to nature and him to finish the process.” Sakura looked at Kakashi meaningfully, spreading the glow of chakra through both their hands so he could see what she saw too.

“I’m sure you knew this already when you bought him to such a place, but this chrysalis heals at its own rate, we cannot control it. I’ve repaired the structural damage to the organic form of the capsule and connected his body to it, so it should start to work now.”

Kakashi’s eyes were tight as she continued, glistening from the reflected light of her chakra. “It could take months, years or even decades for it to draw from nature all the energy it needs and naturally heal his body. Now there is nothing more we can do.”

“I know.” As Sakura had thought Kakashi did understand the workings of the chrysalis, and if it wasn’t Kakashi then she would be surprised he was willing to wait and even miss the revival of his friend. As it were, she knew all it really matter to him was that he lived eventually, be it now or in many years, that one day he would get to live the normal life they had, and that he had missed out on.

Kakashi’s voice was quiet as he spoke, withdrawing his hand from beneath hers.

“Thank you, Sakura.” His head was low and he wouldn’t meet her eyes. Sakura placed her fingertips on the edge of his jaw, the dim light casting shadows on his handsome, distraught face.

“If you had just asked, I would have done it. If you had just told me from the start.”

“I know.” Kakashi replied, voice low.

A slow smile spread across her face as she drew closer to him, speaking his true intentions aloud, “But you didn’t ask because if we were caught, you didn’t want me to be held accountable.”

“Oh Kakashi.”

Kakashi looked away, swallowing thickly, he replied, “I’m sorry Sakura. For everything.”

Slipping her hands around his waist, she hugged him tightly until he put his arms around her. Drawing back slightly she touched his face delicately, her expression one of deep empathy.

“I am so sorry for you Kakashi, for everything you went through, and for dealing with this alone.”

It was the first time anyone had ever acknowledged Kakashi’s losses, even months after the war was finished and over, due to his laidback disposition no one ever realised how much he had suffered, how much he had lost.

With a fierceness she wasn’t expecting, Kakashi returned her hug tightly, burying his face in her hair, his tall form trembling. Sakura rubbed his back soothingly, returning the embrace with as much strength as she could muster, feeling like it was only her arms holding the pieces of this man together.

Eventually he pulled back, pressing his forehead against Sakura’s, he whispered a thanks against her lips before he drew away.

Placing a hand on the chrysalis Kakashi closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and uttered, “Goodbye Obito,” before turning away.

Within minutes they were packing their stuff and clearing away their bedding, ready to leave.

Suddenly Sakura froze, a very obvious realisation dawning.

“Did-did you change me?”

Kakashi rolled his eyes at her, “That’s what your worried about?”

Considering this for a moment, Sakura conceded with a shrug, “fair point,” and returned to packing.

The journey back to Konoha was far less stressful and they took it at a relaxed, sedate pace; though a knot of anxiety did sit in the pit of Sakura’s stomach at what would happen upon their return.

“Hokage-sama!”

Sakura snapped her neck around at the sound, searching for the voice and its direction which seemed to be them?

“Hokage!?” Sakura turned incredulously towards Kakashi.

It all made sense. He wanted to square of all his debts before taking on the heavy title of hokage, which had been his teammates dream.

Sakura smiled to herself, shaking her head in disbelief, as she went over to the desk to sign her name in for leaving and returning, then quietly snuck away leaving Kakashi to deal with Shikamaru’s badgering. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Kakashi, head slightly bowed as he sheepishly apologised and offered a half-hearted explanation.

She made it only a block away before she was pulled into a secluded area between buildings, and before she could yelp in surprise Kakashi’s familiar face came into view. She opened her mouth to protest, a million questions on her lips, but closed it, knowing Kakashi would explain when he was ready or knowing him probably never.

As she stared silently at him for those few seconds, she struggled to decipher his expression. It was… soft almost?

Kakashi’s gloved hands circled her face, the warm tips of his fingers brushing her cheekbones. Her eyes fell to his lips, though she could not see them as he leaned close and whispered in low voice, slightly rough around the edges, “Thank you”.

She felt the gentle press of his warm lips against her forehead, lingering only for a moment extra, before she looked up and he was gone in a swirl of leaves.

Sakura chuckled to herself, the madness of the past few days starting to settle in as was the now glaring fact that she apparently had a massive crush on not only her Sensei, but also her village’s hokage.

Well, she shrugged to herself in thought as she continued the trek back to her apartment, at the very least he probably has a crush on me too.

#kakasaku #kakashi x sakura #naruto #narutofic #fanfiction #sakura #kakashi #this really got away from me #it was supposed to be a short thing #but here we are #thank you for the ask #i'll get back to crying over Kismet now #...maybe #i'll continue this one day #kakasaku is new to me #reirawrites

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