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yesimwriting · 3 years

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The Promise of Rain, blurb 2

The Promise of Rain (part 2?? technically)

A/n I was not originally planning a second part for this but some people wanted it and this idea came to me and it works better with the context of ‘The Promise of Rain’ but it can technically be read as a stand alone :))

Anyways this might turn into a small series of kinda connected blurbs that are all kind of canon with each other but aren’t necessarily connected except for the reader’s background (the reader is a very sunshine-y person and knows Kaz bc she’s a runaway princess that he was hired to bring back home but she managed to convince him to let her work for him instead)

The night air had left me with a chill that made me want nothing more than to have my covers draped over me as I read. I’m normally more sociable after a job, especially after such a simple and safe ending, but a lot of tonight had left me wanting to be alone.

Well, not truly alone. The company of my books is always welcomed, but tonight I can’t seem to find much comfort within the pages. After almost every paragraph, I find myself distracted by gusts of wind and thoughts of the heavy, silver clouds that seem to make up tonight. A part of me longs for the rain. I know it’s ridiculous to expect rain each time I desire some sense of comfort, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want it. Especially when the sky so clearly implies it.

“This must be the fifth time I’ve come here and you’ve been reading.” Kaz’s sudden appearance is almost enough to shake away my lingering somberness.

I roll my eyes slightly, turning my attention back to the page in front of me. “That observation is just a testament to how often you come in here.”

His glare is half hearted, a look I’d find endearing if I was less annoyed. “Where else am I going to find a reminder that good people exist in Ketterdam?”

I think he may have a sixth sense that warns him when I’m treading the line between being annoyed and displeased. Everytime I find myself mad at him in a way that makes me want to avoid him instead of yell at him, Kaz makes some ridiculously heart-melting comment. He steps further into the room. I don’t miss the way he eyes my stretched out legs. Ever since the conversation we had after he woke up after an injury, we’ve fallen into the unmentioned habit of silently inviting the other to stay by moving to make room for them.

It had started the day after the conversation in which Kaz had admitted that he wanted me to stay with him. He had been sitting on the small couch while discussing the details of a job. Shortly after I walked in he made a point of shifting so that he was clearly on one side of the couch. I didn’t think much about sitting down, but Inej and Jesper exchanged a look.

Now, though, I keep my legs stretched out on the bed. He eyes my position on the bed, something grim crossing his features.

“It might rain tonight.”

He knows me so damn well. I hate it. “I hope so.”

I turn my head, analyzing the way the world seems to be on the cusp of something. I stare at the silver clouds until I feel something hard tap my leg. The tap is firm but not painful. I’m quick to look at Kaz as he lowers his cane. The mention of rain had been a distraction.

“You distracted me on purpose.”

“The first rule of the Barrel is to always be prepared.” There’s a slight uptilt to his lips, something I’ve learned to interpret as a sign of teasing.

How is he so easy to be around one second and so cold the next? I resist a smile. “I’ll take notes.”

Kaz ignores my passive aggressive tone. His focus seems to be on my legs that have still not moved to offer him a place next to me. “You wear your emotions too openly.” Great, he’s going to make us talk about it. “What reason could you possibly have to be mad at me?”

“I’m not mad at you.” It’s a partial truth.

His expression harshens. “Don’t lie.”

“I’m not thrilled with you, but I don’t think that’s the same as being mad.”

Kaz lets out a partial sigh. “No, they’re not the same.” Such an early concession feels like a trap. “With you, the first option is worse.” I don’t have anything to say to that. “Is this because of what I said to Jesper?”

My posture straightens on instinct. “He wants your validation more than he’d ever admit and I understand that expressing praise isn’t exactly something you do, but would it kill you to not actively insult him?”

“I didn’t say anything that was wrong. He thinks he’s a gambler but he’s just someone born for losses.” The look I give him must mean something to him, because Kaz is quick to tact on, “That doesn’t make him less valuable of an asset or less relatively dependable.”

I eye him cautiously, the slightest bit of vulnerability playing at his features. “Don’t look at me like that--and don’t tell me that. Jesper’s the one who could use the occasional reminder from you that you hold him to any regard with positive connotations.” His lips press together like he’s thinking about scolding me for scolding him. “It’s only because I know you care more about Jesper than you’d ever let on.”

“Jesper’s esteem can handle the blow.” The curtness of his voice is a blow in its own sense. “And he didn’t exactly deserve to be in my good graces after what he did tonight.”

My sigh is not weighted enough to match Kaz’s newfound fountain of emotion. “We were successful--”

“He left you.” I didn’t know Kaz’s voice was capable of such harshness. “I paired him with you, and he left you--and you almost didn’t make it.” I let the weight of his words take up all the available space in the room, keeping the silence that follows them until some of the heaviness has dissipated. “He could have cost me one of my best people.”

Oh. His harshness, his unwarranted coldness, had been a manifestation of his concern. For me. Guilt knots my stomach. Potential words that may offer Kaz some sort of support raise and die back down in my throat. Kaz turns towards the door.

“Kaz.” He pauses. There’s a long moment in which I think he won’t turn around, but finally, he does. I tuck my legs beneath me, forcing myself to sit up a little straighter. “I told Jesper to leave because I knew the job would have failed if he had been trapped in that room with me.” I drop my gaze towards the window. “I was right, the job was successful, and I got out in time so it was worth it.”

“You risked your safety?” The harsh facet of his being is making its return in full force.

“For the job,” I’m careful to keep my words factual, “It’s what we’re supposed to do.”

Kaz’s jaw locks. “When I said that keeping you near me would ruin you this is what I meant.”

Is it really this big of a deal? I made it out. “Kaz.”

“This wasn’t my best idea.” His words are leached of anything. “You’re going back home. Tomorrow I’ll arrange the voyage myse--”

“Kaz Brekker you may get to live your life doing anything you want but you don’t get to control mine.” My chin raises an inch, an instinctual act of subtle rebellion. “I am not going back there, even if I’m technically indebted to you because you didn’t return me to my father but that does not mean I’ll--”

“I’m not trying to control you.” His words are sharp, boarding on a yell. “A job like that one wasn’t worth you.”

From Kaz, I know those words are heavy. There’s a lot of things I could say to that. I could tell him that I wanted to do something for him. I could say that I appreciate him telling me that. I could even say that in his own way, Kaz giving Jesper a hard time because he left me, is kind of cute in a misguided way. The thing is I think all of these responses will make things worse.

“Kaz,” I keep my voice as steady as possible, “I’m fine, you’re fine, it all worked out.” Scratching the back of my arm, I exhale gently. “I’ll be more careful next time, I promise.”

I watch him carefully, there’s a slight slump to his shoulders as he exhales. Is the fight leaving him so easily? He walks further into the room. “You better.” He sits down in the space I provided for him slowly. “If you’re not you’ll have worse things to worry about than anything that can happen to you on a job.” He moves his cane forward easily, tapping my knee in a swift motion.

I roll my eyes at the mock threat. “They do say that there’s nothing to fear in the Barrel like the Dirtyhands.”

“Remember that.” Any edge in his voice is forced. I fight against a smile that seems to always want to break across my face whenever I think I see something resembling lightness in Kaz.

“I don’t think I could forget anything about you.”

He turns his head slightly. “You should.”

“Too bad.”

Kaz leans his back against the wall, untensing slightly. “I think you just like disagreeing with me.”

There’s no point in lying about it. “Only because when you argue with me you give me this really particular look.”

“A look?”

Adding insult to injury, I smile. “Sometimes you look like you’re too focused on being angry, like you’re compensating for something.”

Kaz lets out a bitter sigh. “Maybe if you were less of a puppy I wouldn’t have to--”

The laugh that escapes is most definitely a mistake. “Did you just call me a puppy?” I don’t give him a chance to reply, laughter taking over again. “I mean this in the least argumentative way possible--but you’re so weird sometimes.”

He rolls his eyes, tensing. “I’m leaving.”

I stifle the rest of my laughter. “No. I was--I was kidding!” I keep my eyes on Kaz, expecting some type of annoyed glare, but his expression is a lot more weighted than that. Odd. “Kaz?”

“You need to be more careful.” I understand Kaz’s pause as something he does before saying something outside of his nature. “I’m not asking you this as a Crow or a Dreg.”

On instinct, my posture straightens. “I promised and I meant it.”

“Sometimes I wish I could believe in Saints,” his voice has taken off a distant quality, almost fragile, “That way I could believe something existed to help what matters.”

Oh. “You never fail, even if I didn’t believe in Saints I’d believe in you.”

“You’re wasting your faith.” The sound of lightning cracking is almost enough to make me jump. The rain finally came.

I know I’ll never convince him that that’s not true. “I don’t think so, but that’s why it’s called faith.”

“I have faith in some things.” His expression is far off.

“Like what?”

Kaz’s eyes find the window. “People that find meaning in the rain.”

Something in my chest swells. “You’re like the rain.”

We sit there in silence, watching raindrops glide down the window. “What were you reading?”

The question has me dropping my gaze to the forgotten book on my lap. “I stole this book from the palace before I left. It was my mom’s favorite, she’s read it so much the spine’s completely cracked and the cover is practically falling off.”

“Hm…” He mumbles. “Read some, the books read in a palace must be worthwhile.”

A part of me wants to tell him that elitism has no place in literature, but his request leaves me frozen. I nod once, turning to the first page of the book. “It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife--”

“Your upbringing makes sense--”

“You can’t judge it off the first sentence,” he’s insufferable, “It’s setting up irony, and if you’re going to complain--”

He lets out a conceding sigh. “I’m listening, I’m not interrupting.”

I keep my eyes on him for a second longer than I should. “Okay.” Dropping my gaze back to the book, I adjust my grip on the worn paperback, “Good.”

And then I keep reading.

@theincredibledeadlyviper @grishaverse7 @lonelystarship @mentally-in-northern-italy @uhanddreag

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witcher-and-his-bard-archive · 3 years

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Stranded and Geraskier? 🧜‍♂️

Pairing: Geralt x Jaskier Warning(s): non-human anatomy, tentacles (in every possible way), choking/breathplay Rating: explicit

Summary: While exploring a cave, Jaskier gets trapped by the tide, but the inhabitant is more than happy to find a way to help him pass the time.

I took this idea and ran with it! Thank you for the opportunity to write octo!Geralt, I've been wanting to for a while now <3

There is a reason they say the northern end of the beach is off-limits, but Jaskier has always been inquisitive and rather terrible at following instructions, so it's no surprise that he ends up there anyway. He's been staying on the coast for a while now and while he always loves coming back, he's feeling a little restless lately. So he's taken to taking strolls along the beach in the early morning or the evening while he's not performing, but today he has the entire day free, so he's come a little earlier than usual to try and settle himself.

But the usual route isn't doing anything for him today. The sand is still soft and warm on his feet and the waves still crash rhythmically on the shore, but he just wants something new. So, when he reaches the end of his normal walk and comes to the gated off area at the northernmost end of the beach, he slips past the gate and continues. Nothing immediately jumps out at him as dangerous, so he just strolls along, shuffling his feet through the sand.

The beach is usually quiet, but right now there isn't another person in sight and Jaskier revels in the silence, humming to himself as he goes along. When he comes to the point, he follows the tapering beach around to a point and beyond it, there's a little more land that leads into a rocky outcrop. He can't get past it, but he could climb up it and sit in the sun, looking out over the ocean.

He wades through the water where it rises to midway up his shins before reaching the other side, but when he reaches the stone ledge, he spots what looks like a cave. And he can't just not go look at it. So he takes another quick peek just to ensure no one else is around and hurries toward the opening in the rock. The sun above is bright, but the overhang of rock offers some relief from the heat, so he takes his time.

The entrance is, in fact, the mouth of a cave and Jaskier grins to himself, slipping inside. It's not deep, but at the back there is a drop-off and a tunnel that leads further. He walks forward steps around the gaping hole in the ground, careful to keep his footing as he aims for the tunnel. It's dark, but he can still see a little - well enough to continue on for the time being - and up ahead there's a faint glow that piques his interest.

So he doesn't stop when the light starts to fade, just heads toward the glow at the back of the tunnel. It's some ways down, but he does eventually come out into another cave with a smooth rocky floor and another tunnel leading off. But what interests Jaskier more than anything is the plant life. It grows on the walls and ceiling and it glows.

It lets off a faint bluish glow and Jaskier leans up to inspect it. Some of the plants grow little purplish flowers, but most of them resemble moss or vines and Jaskier would be inclined to call them plain if they grew in a forest and weren't luminescent. But they are and he's fascinated by it.

He spends more time than he should inspecting all the different types of growth - there are at least four distinct plans he can see all growing together - and it's not until the light from the opposite end of the tunnel begins to fade that he realizes he should turn back. He has a performance tonight and he'd like the chance to bathe and change beforehand.

He slips from the room he's in, heading back through the tunnel, but the ground beneath his feet slopes downward and he doesn't realize until water splashes around his ankles. It startles him at first; there was no water on the way in, but as he reaches the main cave, he realizes what has happened.

He's spent too long exploring and the tide has come in around him, too far now to walk out the way he came in. And Jaskier is a good swimmer, but water swirls dangerously where the hole in the ground is, pouring quickly into, it and he's not a strong enough swimmer to keep from being sucked down. Even as he considers it, the water swirling around his feet rises higher and his only option is to turn back the way he came. Which is not a great option, but he doesn't really see what else he's supposed to do.

But he turns around and heads back through the tunnel. The incline is more than he remembers, and judging by what he knows of the tides - very little - he thinks he should be safe to hide out here until it goes back down again. He finds a bare patch of wall and drops to the ground to lean against it, sighing softly as he listens to the water rising in the tunnel. It splashes against stone and Jaskier shuts his eyes, focusing on the calming sound of it. Maybe the time will pass more quickly if he can just have a little nap.

But the more he listens, the more he hears and there's a slick, sliding sound he's been assuming was seaweed caught in the current, but when he focuses hard enough, he can hear something not unlike breathing. His eyes flash open and he scans the room but sees nothing. Then, out of the corner of his eye, there's a shadow.

Jaskier's heart races because he knows the kinds of things that live in the sea; sirens, drowners and any number of animals that would be happy enough to eat him alive. So he presses himself against the wall and keeps quiet.

Something long and thin slips over his foot, curling around his ankle, and Jaskier's eyes flash open. He hadn't even realized they were still shut, but when he looks up there's a person in front of him, or at least he looks like a person. But as he comes closer, Jaskier realizes he only looks human from the waist up. Below the waist is a mass of dark tentacles, sprawled out all around him and propelling him forward.

Jaskier shudders at the sight of him, but as he approaches, the fear dissipates a little, replaced with intrigue. The man - if he can be called that at all - doesn't seem angry or upset and he has a friendly enough expression. He slips closer, sinking lower so he's face-to-face with Jaskier and it becomes clear that he's just as curious about Jaskier as Jaskier is about him.

"Uh, sorry," Jaskier mumbles, "I didn't mean to intrude, I just ah-" one of the tentacles reaches out, tipping his chin up and sliding across his jaw. "I just got trapped-?" His voice rises at the end like a question, but the creature just cocks his head at him.

"The tide," he says and Jaskier nods. He's got a beautiful voice, deep and rough and in any other situation, incredibly sexy. But while Jaskier isn't discriminating in his choice of partners, he's still feeling rather trapped.

"Mmhm."

"It won't go down again until morning. Unless you can hold your breath for a long time, you'll have to spend the night."

"Oh." Jaskier is caught off guard by the lightness of his response and he looks up at him. "You don't mind?" he asks and the creature just smiles at him, an odd sort of smile that makes something in Jaskier's stomach flip.

"Stay," he says, "it'll be hours before the tide is low enough for you to leave again."

"You're not going to eat me?" The creature laughs and slides a little closer, peering at him.

"No. I've never had a… human in my home before. I'm certainly not going to kill you." He chuckles softly and swishes away to the other side of the cave, but Jaskier is caught on the sound of his laugh, a warm, welcoming thing that he'd like very much to hear again. And, well, he has all night.

"Sorry," he says, rising to his feet and following the creature to the other side, "I don't know what - who - you are."

"Geralt," he says plainly, "I'm a cecaelia. We've been here longer than most, but many of us don't come so close to the surface, so you wouldn't have met many."

"Haven't met any," Jaskier confirms. "We're told to stay away from the creatures who live in the sea." Geralt lifts an eyebrow at the word creature, but doesn't say anything about it. Jaskier makes a mental note not to repeat it.

"And you," Geralt prompts, "what's your name, human?"

"Jaskier," he huffs and I get the point. "Do you live here alone?"

"Yes, unless you count the fish who filter in and out with the tides."

"You must get lonely."

Geralt gives him a look that from anyone else he might consider flirtatious, and it stirs something inside him that he quickly tamps down. This isn't the time to get turned on. Especially not by someone who's not human.

"Occasionally. I'm used to being alone."

Jaskier isn't sure how to respond to that, so he lets the conversation drop. He wants to assure him, which is a strange compulsion because he doesn't even know Geralt. Two hours ago he couldn't have cared less about a man living on his own in this cave. But now…

He looks him over, following the line of his body from his strong jaw and thick chest down to the mass of tentacles that never quite seem to stop moving. Even when Geralt is still, they shift under him like he's trying to settle, though he seems calm. More like an unconscious motion, maybe. But Jaskier is fascinated by them. He wants to touch, to feel, but he knows well enough to keep his hands to himself when unwanted, so he switches focus.

"So what's it like living down here?" he asks, looking around the cave as though he hadn't spent ages exploring it already.

"Quiet," Geralt says tiredly, "peaceful. But that's not what you want to talk about, is it? You can ask," he hums.

"I just-"

"Jaskier, we have all night down here together. Ask."

"Do they ever stop moving?" he blurts and heat creeps into his cheeks at the abruptness of it, but Geralt just chuckles softly.

"When I sleep. When I'm relaxed."

"Then what's wrong, now? If you're not relaxed."

"I have… questions of my own."

"Okay," Jaskier says, "ask away."

"Can I… touch you?" he asks and Jaskier's breath catches.

"If you like. I have nothing to hide."

Geralt shifts forward, reaching out to brush a tentacle under his chin again, tipping his head up and moving it side to side. It feels like an examination, like the time he fell ill and had to be taken to a healer, but Geralt's touch is much softer, much more delicate than that.

"I've never met a human before either," he says conversationally, "you're… softer than I expected."

"Softer?" Jaskier laughs, "how so?"

"Your… skin looks thick and rough, but it's soft, smooth." He presses the tip of the tentacle against his cheek, pressing in gently. "Like a jellyfish," he adds and Jaskier laughs again.

"Is that bad?"

"No," Geralt hums, tilting his own head as he turns Jaskier's. "I like it." Another tentacle curls around the back of his neck and Jaskier breathes deeply, trying hard not to think too much about the touch, about how it feels like a lover's touch.

He's had countless lovers slip a hand around his neck to pull him closer and he leans in without thinking, letting Geralt have full control over him. Geralt grins and smiles knowingly at him, sliding the tentacle from his neck to his shoulder and down over his chest. The tip of it slips into the gaps in Jaskier's shirt, poking at the buttons holding it closed.

"Why do you wear these?" he asks, not looking up from his exploration. "Don't they get in the way?"

"No," Jaskier shakes his head and hates to admit that he sounds a little breathless. "They keep me warm. I'd freeze in the cold weather without clothes. And they keep me covered. It's not polite to walk around naked all the time."

"For humans," Geralt amends and Jaskier nods. "I'm not human." Jaskier chokes on the implication, but Geralt just meets his eyes questioningly.

"You can take it off, if you want."

Geralt doesn't need to be told twice. He fumbles with the button at first, but when he brings up a second tentacle to push at it, he has much more luck. Jaskier wants to tell him he could just use his hands, but there's something fascinating about the potential of having those tentacles on his skin. Once the buttons are undone, Geralt shoves the shirt back off his shoulders leaving it half-tucked into his trousers.

He frowns at Jaskier's chest, running his tentacles over his skin. Jaskier gasps when he brushes over a nipple and leans into the touch instinctively. He draws back just as abruptly, gasping as he realizes what he's doing. He doesn't have a chance to apologize before Geralt's touch lightens. He doesn't pull away, but he tips his head at him.

"Should I stop?" he asks, but the tone of his voice implies that he doesn't want to.

"I just- Geralt you don't know what you're doing."

"I do," he hums, "this part of you, I understand. It feels good for you?"

"Yeah. Do you- do you want to make it feel good?"

"If you'll let me," Geralt hums, "I've always been… intrigued by you, by humans." Jaskier grins and pushes forward, sliding one hand down the length of the tentacle exploring his chest.

"Can I touch you, too?"

"Of course, I'd like that."

"You realize what you're offering, right? Not that I'm opposed, but I want to make sure we're both on the same page, here."

"Jaskier," he hums, "we have all night and I'd very much like to fuck you if you're amenable."

Jaskier's skin prickles and he lets out a little groan. Maybe he should feel weird about Geralt wanting to fuck him just because he's human, but he's vibrating at the thought of it already.

"Please," he whispers and Geralt moves immediately.

He wraps one tentacle around his waist, hauling him in and holding him close. He tugs the shirt from Jaskier's trousers, chucking it aside as Jaskier straddles him, careful where he puts his knees so he doesn't hurt Geralt. But Geralt keeps him off the ground, hovering slightly so Jaskier's front presses against him firmly, but so he only barely touches Geralt's tentacles or the webbing between them.

Jaskier presses himself forward, conscious of the fastenings on his trousers as he grinds against Geralt's torso. Tentacles wind around his hips and chest and thighs, slipping against his skin then pausing to suck at it. It sends shivers up his spine and goosebumps break out over his skin. The feeling is so foreign, the feeling of suction all over his skin, but it feels good and he leans into it.

Geralt's hands settle on his shoulders, slowly sliding down, and Jaskier glances up to meet his eyes. Geralt's have grown dark, but there's still a sliver of gold around his pupils and Jaskier finds himself entranced by it, how it shimmers and almost glows even in the low light. He touches Geralt's face, traces the line of his cheekbones and runs his thumb against his lip.

"You're beautiful," he whispers and Geralt's hands slip to his waist, pulling him up against him. "Can I kiss you?"

"Yes."

Jaskier leans in and Geralt meets him halfway, kissing him hard and nipping his lip with teeth sharper than they ought to be. Though Jaskier supposes he doesn't have much for a frame of reference when it comes to cecaelia. He deepens the kiss, letting Geralt's tongue slide into his mouth, thinner and more pointed than his own. He licks into him, fingers digging into his skin as he grips his thighs, and Jaskier just holds on for the ride.

All his experience with other people means nothing when faced with Geralt and he's feeling a little out of his depth as he's laid back against the stone floor again. Geralt breaks the kiss long enough to squirm in between his thighs and then reaches down, fumbling with the clasps of Jaskier's trousers. He gets them undone and shoves them down his legs, immediately getting his tentacles back on his bare skin.

"Oh," Jaskier gasps, "oh, that's good, Geralt."

"Feels good?"

"Very. Keep going."

Jaskier shuts his eyes as Geralt's tentacles slip between his legs, brushing against his balls before squeezing around his thighs. Geralt hums and gets his arms around Jaskier's waist, sliding one hand down over his ass.

"Tell me what to do," Geralt says, tilting his head to kiss Jaskier's jaw, "tell me what feels good."

"Anything," Jaskier hums, "just touch me."

"Like this?" Geralt asks, sliding a tentacle around his torso and Jaskier nods, eyes fluttering as suction cups catch on his nipples. He moans softly, reaching out to run his hands up Geralt's chest and Geralt pushes into the touch. "You like that, too?"

"Yes." Jaskier revels in the surprising warmth of his skin, soft and smooth over firm muscles and he slides his hands up over his shoulders, pulling Geralt close to kiss him again. He sighs into his mouth and Geralt deepens the kiss, pressing further against him.

He's got Jaskier almost completely bound now, wrapped tightly and held just above his lap, but he moves forward, tipping him back and laying him on the ground. Abruptly, all of the tentacles around him are gone and Jaskier is left alone and suddenly cold on the ground, but it doesn't last long. Geralt slides up over his thighs, settling himself there where he has full access to Jaskier's body.

He runs tentacles over his chest and Jaskier stretches out, pushing his arms up above his head to give Geralt better access to him. His touch feels good, like a massage. Geralt doesn't hesitate to touch anywhere, pushing his thighs apart and sliding between them, sliding up around his balls as another curls around his cock, squeezing experimentally.

Jaskier gives a little whine and Gerakt's eyes flash up to meet his. He does it again, harder this time and Jaskier squirms under him. Geralt's eyes go wide and he grins as he slips his tentacle up the length of him and Jaskier nearly chokes because he's doing it on purpose now. The arm around his balls squeezes a little too and Jaskier tenses up immediately, expecting pain, but it's… good. He shudders a little as his thighs spread further and then Geralt's squeezing again, wrapping around him.

It's not something he's ever done with anyone before, but Geralt has no idea what he likes and doesn't like, or even what feels good for humans, so he's exploring. And evidently, Jaskier is learning a thing or two, also.

Geralt moves on, sliding back up his stomach again and Jaskier shudders as they slip over his hips, over the sensitive skin just above his cock. He wants to let Geralt continue his exploration, but he wants the pressure around his cock again, wants to fuck into the heat of him. Geralt's skin is thicker and rougher than his own, but it's smooth and it feels good against his prick and he just wants.

"Geralt," he whispers, "come here." Geralt cocks his head and leans forward over him. He runs his hands up Geralt's chest, slipping over his shoulders and around his neck to tug him down.

He nips at Geralt's lips, nuzzles at his neck and rocks up against him. He's hard already Geralt's skin just feels so fucking good against his heated cock. He jerks again, pushing up hard and tangling his hands in Geralt's hair. He slips one hand out of Geralt's hair and wraps his hand around Geralt's tentacle and pulls it down between them, sliding it alongside his cock until Geralt gets the idea and wraps around him.

"You like this?" he asks and Jaskier moans softly, rolling his head back as he lets out a breathy yes.

Geralt makes a thoughtful sound and squeezes firmly, eliciting another moan and he seems very pleased with himself. He strokes him a couple of times, slipping right up to the head and sliding around him as he goes. It's intoxicating and Jaskier doesn't know if his own hand will ever be sufficient again, after this.

But Geralt still delights in finding the new things and he slips away shortly, slipping up to play with Jaskier's nipples again and Jaskier just groans. Geralt perks up, grinning at him.

"Do you want this?" he asks, slipping over his aching cock again. Jaskier nods and Geralt strokes him exactly twice before winding down around his thighs and squeezing.

"Geralt," Jaskier groans, "please."

"What do you want?" he asks, a smirk spreading across his face. Jaskier could kill him, the bastard. He's toying with him.

"You know what I want."

"Do I? Remind me."

Jaskier groans and grabs for the tentacle again, wrapping it around himself and thrusting up into the coils. He moans softly, dropping his eyes shut and slips his hands around the coiled arm, keeping it tight around him.

"Seems like you've got it under control," Geralt teases, but before Jaskier can even argue, he's leaning down over him, nipping at his collarbone and squeezing around Jaskier's cock.

"Oh, Geralt, please."

His hips buck hard and Geralt coils and uncoils around him and it's a delightful feeling like nothing he's ever felt before. Jaskier whimpers and his hips jerk up into the loose coils, immediately aching for the touch again. But Geralt seems to have lost his taste for teasing now and holds tight around him, ensuring Jaskier's entire cock is engulfed by him, jerking abortively up into the grip of him.

And Jaskier could cry with how good it feels, the rough slickness of Geralt's skin creating a burning need that spreads through him and he's gonna come in no time like this, but he doesn't even mind. Because after he comes, he gets to touch Geralt, to figure out all the little things that turn him on and he looks forward to it with delight.

Geralt pulls him back to the present with a sharp bite to the join of his neck and Jaskier cries out, jerking hard into his tentacle.

"Sorry," Geralt hums, already licking over the mark, but Jaskier shakes his head.

"Fuck, don't be. Do that again."

Geralt lifts his head to look at him then tentatively lowers his head, brushing his lips against the skin of his neck before kissing him. He nibbles lightly at his throat and sucks softly before nosing under his jaw and biting down hard on the side of his neck. Jaskier gasps and moans and his cock jerks as he comes hard, still encompassed by Geralt's body.

Geralt continues with the slipping, almost like wringing a cloth, and Jaskier is breathless and gasping, already swelling again under the touch by the time he pulls away.

"Fuck me," he breathes, "Gods, Geralt you are incredible."

Geralt hums, but his attention is clearly diverted and when Jaskier looks up, he's playing with the come on his chest, slipping the tip of one tentacle through it and lifting it up to sniff at it. Jaskier wrinkles his nose, but then Geralt's putting it in his mouth, flicking his tongue out to taste it and his gut clenches. That… should not be as hot as it is.

Geralt grins down at him and climbs up over him, pressing something warm and wet against Jaskier's cock as he settles himself.

"You look good," he hums, "when you come." Jaskier just groans and presses up against Geralt's underside. He gets a little gasp in response and grins to himself.

"What is that?" he asks, "do you- how do cecaelia fuck?"

Geralt doesn't answer, but shifts again, pressing harder down against Jaskier's prick. It catches on something and Geralt lifts himself just a little, keeping himself steady as he maneuvers Jaskier's cock inside him without so much as touching it.

His eyelids flutter and he moans softly as he sinks down on him, fully engulfing Jaskier's cock and clenching around him.

"Feels fuckin' amazing," Jaskier huffs, though that might be the sensitivity talking. He's not used to coming and immediately being (mounted) afterward, but he's not complaining.

"Mm," Geralt affirms, "it's been a long time since I've taken something inside, but-" he groans as Jaskier shifts his hips and drops forward, leaning on his elbows. "Fuck me," he whispers before leaning in to kiss Jaskier's neck. "Please, fuck me."

Jaskier doesn't need to be told twice. He slides his hands down, settling on the swell of what would be Geralt's hips and holding him down. He rocks into the tight heat, eyes rolling back as Geralt clenches continually around him, and nuzzling against his head.

"Gods," he breathes, "fuck Geralt, does this feel as good for you as it does for me?"

"Feels good," he huffs, "really, really good." He bites at Jaskier's skin and shifts himself forward before sliding down fully on Jaskier's cock again and rising up to sit on him.

Jaskier glances down, running his fingers down Geralt's waist and pauses when he reaches a bump. Geralt's breath catches and Jaskier presses more firmly against it, massaging the spot until Geralt lets out a low, rumbling moan.

Beneath his fingers, the skin parts and Jaskier pulls back abruptly, but Geralt reaches out, pulls his hand back against it.

"Please," he mumbles, "it's been… a long time since anyone has touched me like this."

Jaskier lets his fingertips trace the seam, slipping just barely inside when Geralt shudders. Geralt keeps a firm hand around his wrist, holding him there and Jaskier is intrigued as to what feels that good. He doesn't have to wait long to find out.

Beneath his fingers, something slips free from the slit, thick and red and very much dick-like. He flicks his eyes up to Geralt's, holding his gaze as he wraps his fingers around the head of it. Geralt groans and his cock slips further out, slipping into Jaskier's palm. Jaskier curls his hand around him, stroking evenly until Geralt's fully unsheathed and Jaskier's fingers can no longer press into the slit at the base of him.

"Good?" Jaskier asks and Geralt nods, rocking up into his fingers and back onto his cock. "How come no one touches you like this?" He can't possibly imagine fucking someone like Geralt and not wanting to touch every inch of him.

"I haven't seen another cecaelia in years," he breathes, "and it's not as good on my own." He flexes his hand showing off clawed fingers and Jaskier nods, understanding.

"How do you touch yourself normally?" Geralt licks his lips and Jaskier follows the motion with his tongue, rolling his hips up into him. Geralt raises a tentacle, wiggling it at him.

Jaskier reaches out with his free hand, wrapping his fingers around it, lifting it and running his fingertip along the lip of the suction cups as Geralt holds it aloft. It shivers under his touch and Jaskier grins as he looks up to see Geralt's face pinched up in pleasure, sharp teeth digging into his bottom lip.

"Does that.. do you like that?"

"Geralt nods silently," pressing the tentacle more firmly into his grasp.

"What if I-" Jaskier starts and Geralt's eyes go wide as he slips his palm along the underside of the tentacle and brings the tip toward his mouth.

The limb twitches toward Jaskier's mouth and as he wraps his lips around it, the rest of the wriggle around him. Jaskier sucks it into his mouth and Geralt groans. It doesn't seem like the kind of thing that should feel good, but he likes having his fingers sucked, so he assumes it's something similar to that.

He winds his tongue between the cups, tracing the shape of each of them before taking it as deep as he can, sucking hard. Geralt groans, withdrawing a little before pushing back between his lips and Jaskier hums around him. He lets Geralt take control, leaning back on one elbow, one hand still slipping against his hip as he rocks.

From here, he has a perfect view of Geralt's cock, jutting proudly from his body as he fucks himself on Jaskier's cock. He's slick and dripping and Jaskier aches to get his mouth on him, to suck him off and make him come in his mouth. He squirms with the desire, sucking hard on the limb in his mouth instead and Geralt jerks forward hard.

He surges forward, keeping Jaskier's cock buried inside him as he winds tentacles around his arms, pushing them up above his head and holding them there. His hands slip down over them until they reach Jaskier's, twining their fingers together and using him as leverage to rock back onto him.

Jaskier squeezes tightly, even as sharp claws press into his skin. Heat swells within him and he knows he won't last with Geralt riding him like this, but he gives in to it, clearing his mind of everything but their bodies moving together. His head falls back, but instead of hitting the hard floor, the blow is softened by another tentacle, slipping up to cushion him.

"Can I-?" he asks and Jaskier doesn't even wait to hear what he's going to ask before nodding enthusiastically.

Beneath him, two more tentacles wrap around his thighs, squeezing tightly and pushing them apart. A third slips between, pressing against his balls and then slipping back behind, into the cleft of his ass. Jaskier squirms and rocks against it, pushing himself further into Geralt's cunt. He groans around the tentacle still in his mouth and Geralt presses against his hole and that's all it takes for Jaskier to tip over the edge.

He shakes through his orgasm, still sucking on the tentacle in his mouth, though his finesse fails as Geralt continues to rock onto his cock. Pleasure zips through him and he squeezes hard around Geralt's fingers, holding him tight as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over him. He's still shaking as Geralt clenches around him and it's so fucking good Jaskier can barely breathe.

Geralt withdraws the tentacle in his mouth and bends to kiss him, slow and soft despite Jaskier's breathlessness. It's a little uncoordinated, and Jaskier pants against his mouth, but a warmth spreads through his chest as Geralt's tongue slides against his own. He hums against him and Jaskier just lets him lead, his eyes dropping shut.

"You're beautiful," Geralt breathes as he draws away. His lips drag against Jaskier's skin and Jaskier shudders as goosebumps pop up in the wake of Geralt's mouth.

"You didn't come," Jaskier mumbles, slipping his hands into Geralt's hair. "Wanna make you come."

"And you will, but I think you need a minute or two." He wraps a tentacle around Jaskier's cock and stroking slowly. But Jaskier is soft, though it feels good when Geralt touches him again.

"Dunno if I'll get hard again," he says but he's already feeling it, the first tendrils of pleasure swirling in his gut. And he knows he can get hard again, has done it in the past, but he's already a little overwhelmed and he doesn't know if it's gonna happen tonight.

But Geralt isn't worried about that. He strokes him again, slips up and rocks against his soft cock, kissing his neck and chest and squeezing his nipples between his fingers. Geralt is persistent and it doesn't take long before Jaskier's cock swells again under his touch. Geralt shoves a hand down under himself, squeezing Jaskier's cock and kissing his mouth.

"Want you to fuck me," Geralt hums, nipping at his lip. "Wanna feel you."

"Fuck." Jaskier drops his head back as Geralt's fingers slip up over the head of his cock, his thumb pressing teasingly into the slit. "Fuck. Yeah, okay."

Geralt tugs him up and slides off of him, turning around and bending over to lean on his elbows. He sticks his hips up, moving his tentacles to the side so Jaskier can fit in between them. He does, running his hands over Geralt's hips and down his back. Tentacles wrap around him, holding him and pressing him lightly forward, slipping up over his shoulders and suctioning to his skin.

From here, Jaskier can see his hole properly and he rubs against the ridged entrance, circling it with his fingers before pushing inside. And Geralt groans at the intrusion, dropping his head shut and pushing his hips up further.

"Good?" Jaskier asks and Geralt nods.

Encouraged, Jaskier slides his fingers inside, eased by Geralt's own slickness. He works into him easily, feeling around inside and thrusting gently. Geralt groans softly, encouragingly, and Jaskier works in a little quicker, adding a third finger without any effort. He fucks into him until Geralt is panting beneath him, tentacles clenching around him and twitching.

It feels good to be able to make him feel good and Jaskier delights in the little popping feeling of suction cups against his skin as Geralt lifts his arms and replaces them, squeezing around his limbs. He moans loudly as Jaskier's pace increases and as he squirms, Jaskier realizes how close he is and he's determined to make him come with just his fingers. So he rubs into him, feeling around until he hits something that makes Geralt gasp.

He grins, dipping down to kiss Geralt's spine as he brushes against the mound again.

"Like that?" he asks.

"Fuck. Yes."

"Wanna come on my fingers?"

"If you'll still fuck me."

"Of course, my darling. I'd be delighted to fuck you. Take you apart and make you scream on my cock."

"Yes," Geralt whines, "fuck, Jaskier."

"Mmhm," Jaskier hums, "soon darling, come on."

He slides his free hand around, slipping around the base of Geralt's cock. He slips his fingers into the slit, pressing into his cock before wrapping around it and stroking slowly. Geralt bucks into the touch, gasping and moaning and with a final thrust as Jaskier presses against that spot inside him, Geralt comes.

Jaskier pulls his fingers back, now completely slick and he slides his hand over Geralt's hip, still stroking his cock even after Geralt shudders under him. Geralt seems perfectly content to fuck into Jaskier's fist, but Jaskier is impatient now, his cock hard and aching between his legs.

He wraps a hand around himself, stroking a couple of times before pressing himself against Geralt's entrance. He's still sensitive, but it feels good and as he rubs himself against the slick skin, the sensitivity gives way to pleasure.

"You feel good," he mumbles, "want you. Fuck."

"Come on," Geralt encourages. He squeezes around his thighs, nudging him forward and sucking at his skin. "Wanna feel you."

Jaskier groans and pushes in, pulling Geralt's hips against him. He curses softly as Geralt wiggles his hips and pushes deep, keeping himself steady. One tentacle slips up around the back of his neck and into his hair, tugging lightly and Jaskier snaps his hips forward hard, pulling a low groan from Geralt.

"That's it," Geralt coos, "I know you want to come again, hmm?"

Jaskier just groans as he rolls his hips forward, letting Geralt adjust before thrusting harder. And it does feel good. It feels so good and he wants more of it. He fucks into him quickly, pushing his hands down Geralt's back and pulling back again.

A tentacle slips between his cheeks, grinding against his hole but not pushing in and Jaskier rocks back onto it, groaning loudly. He's surrounded on all sides, bundled up in Geralt's limbs as he fucks him and he loves the firmness of the tentacles around him, of the warmth and slickness and he groans as his cock throbs inside him. The one around his neck teases, slipping up to press at his lips, pulling his bottom lip down and pressing between them.

The limb tightens a little, slipping around his throat to push between his lips and Jaskier barely manages to groan out a soft harder, before his mouth is otherwise occupied. Geralt seems to get the idea though, tightening his grip on his neck just a little and Jaskier's eyes nearly roll back in his head. He fucks forward almost absently, focused on the suction cups clinging to his throat and the firm weight of it around him.

And fuck, it feels amazing.

He pushes harder, changing his angle to try and hit that same spot from before and when he does it's gloriously clear. Geralt slumps against the floor, arms stretched out in front of him, whining as Jaskier aims for the same spot again, rutting ceaselessly into him. His head is foggy with lust, enhanced by the slow intake of his breath and he's creeping close before long. But he doesn't want to stop, can't bring himself to stop.

He sprawls over Geralt's back, getting a hand around his cock again and playing with the tip. He slips his fingers around and inside, drawing back to the base and pressing into his slit and Geralt whimpers delightfully with each touch.

"Gonna come-" he mumbles and it's all the warning Jaskier gets before Geralt's jerking into his hand and coming all over him. He shudders and pushes back, and as he clenches around him, Jaskier follows, coming hard and dropping against his back.

The limb around his neck slides away and he inhales deeply, mumbling softly against Geralt's bare skin. He shuts his eyes and breathes in the scent of him, surprisingly strong for someone who lives most of his life presumably in the ocean. He listens to Geralt's heartbeat under his head and smiles softly to himself.

But he doesn't have much time to relax, only enough to catch his breath before Geralt is squirming under him, wriggling free and bringing Jaskier up to lie on his chest. He runs his hands through his hair, holding him gently around the waist with two tentacles and he just looks at him. His eyes are still dark, but they're soft and fond and it's too much, so Jaskier buries his head in Geralt's neck. He already struggles with becoming too attached to people too quickly, the last thing he needs to do is wind up falling for a cecaelia who he has no hope of continuing a relationship with.

But when Geralt kisses him, he shuts his eyes with a soft sigh and it doesn't feel wrong. It should feel wrong, he realizes, sleeping with someone who isn't even human, but he supposes Geralt is more like an elf in that sense. Elves are basically human, just slightly different. Half-elves are a thing, as are quarter elves, so why should Geralt be any different.

Evidently, Geralt thinks he's thinking too much, because he pulls himself up into a sitting position, drawing Jaskier up into his lap. He's still kissing him, but he wraps his arms around his waist this time, letting his tentacles slip down to wrap around his legs, smoothing along the skin and coiling around him. As long as he lives, no rope or bond will hold him quite as nicely, as securely as Geralt does now.

Jaskier deepens the kiss, licks into his mouth despite the heaviness spreading into his limbs. His eyes are heavy and he's not sure he could get up on his own, but he doesn't want to stop, doesn't want Geralt to let him go. Not yet. So he continues kissing him, wrapping his hands around the back of his neck and running fingers through still-damp hair.

But Geralt clearly has other plans and when Jaskier feels the tip of a tentacle pressing up between his cheeks again, he can't even find it in himself to say no.

"Don't know how good I'll be," he hums, ducking to kiss the side of Geralt's neck. "'M tired."

"We can stop," Geralt says, but Jaskier shakes his head before Geralt can even pull away.

"No," Jaskier breathes, "I just- I don't know if I can make you feel good."

"You do," Geralt hums, leaning in to meet him halfway in a too-soft kiss. "Being inside you feels good, you sucking on me feels good. You feel good."

The probing tentacle presses a little more firmly, and it's dry, but Jaskier isn't complaining. Geralt pauses.

"You're not slick?" he asks and Jaskier shakes his head again.

"No, men don't- you gotta use something, it doesn't happen naturally."

Geralt hums thoughtfully and then the tentacle is slipping away and Jaskier is disappointed for a moment before it reappears, sliding smoothing against his skin before pressing in. He's slick this time and it takes Jaskier's sex-addled brain a minute to realize Geralt used his own slick and that does something to him that he can't quite explain. Geralt pulls him in close and Jaskier whimpers as the tentacle presses into him, sinking deeper than any cock has ever reached.

He holds his breath, waiting for the pain, but there's none, even as the thickness of the limb stretches him open. Geralt touches him softly, and then another tentacle is pressing at his hole and Jaskier can only whine into Geralt's chest. The second one doesn't push as deep, pressing right up against his prostate and Jaskeir doesn't think he can come again tonight, but as Geralt bumps against him, his cock twitches against his thigh.

"If we had more time," he mumbles, "I'd like to see how many can fit." Jaskier nearly loses his mind at the words so calmly spoken, and he wants to tell Geralt that he would absolutely be willing and happy to try that, but right now keeping his body upright is hard, so he just moans against him again.

"Can I fuck you?" Geralt asks and Jaskier huffs a laugh.

"'S that not what you're doing?"

"I mean with my cock," he hums, "I'd like to fuck you properly."

"Gonna have to discuss how you fuck properly if this isn't it," Jaskier mumbles, "never been so fucking full in my life." Geralt rocks up against him, breathing shakily as their cocks rub together.

"It'll be good," he breathes.

"Not saying no," Jaskier huffs, "I want you every way. Just not sure-" he gasps as Geralt thrusts deeper into him with the second tentacle "-how it could be better than this."

Slowly, carefully, Geralt slips out of him, using the same tentacles to wrap around his own cock, guiding it to Jaskier's hole as Geralt'shands slip up his back to steady him.

"Good?" he asks and Jaskier nods, shifting to adjust to the new sensation. Geralt's cock is smoother than the tentacles, thicker at the tip, and tapered and cool. When he pushes into him, Jaskier wraps his arms around his neck, holding him and shifting slowly to adjust. It's the temperature more than anything, but he likes the feeling of it inside him and he warms up soon enough.

He can't imagine how hot it is for Geralt, but it's hard to read his expression, just wide-eyed and staring as he sinks into him. As he settles another tentacle slips up his back and around his neck. Its grip remains loose, but it prods at his lips and Jaskier opens to him easily. Geralt pushes into his mouth, fucking his mouth with short, shallow thrusts as a third tentacle wraps its way around Jaskier's cock, leaving him completely engulfed.

His mind swirls with mindless thoughts of pleasure as Geralt fills him fully and wraps his way around him. He has very little movement, but he doesn't feel trapped. Instead, he just feels pleasantly held as Geralt moves under him, thrusting into him with slow, languid thrusts.

His cock is angled just so that it hits his prostate with the first thrust and doesn't stop, continually bumping against it until Jaskier is breathless and completely limp in his arms. And when Geralt dips down to kiss him, brushing damp hair out of his eyes, he's panting. He looks good like this, all dark eyes and parted lips, putting all his energy into holding Jaskier up and fucking him and Jaskier can't find the words to properly describe how Geralt makes him feel.

Then, just as he doesn't think he can get any more full, as he doesn't think he can take much more, a tentacle presses around his rim, sliding around the girth of Geralt's cock where it's buried within him.

"Please," Jaskier finds himself mumbling, "please, Geralt, I need it-"

"Shh," Geralt whispers, his voice unsteady as Jaskier squirms against him. "Let me take care of you." The tentacle presses in, winding around Geralt's cock inside him and shifting steadily.

He's so full he can hardly think, so overwhelmed and oversensitive and he can't do anything but cling to Geralt's shoulders and bury his face in his neck.

"Please," he whispers, "gonna come, please-"

He didn't think he could but his cock aches, throbs with the need to come. He needs it so bad it hurts and all he can do is grind up against Geralt as best he can in his bonds.

One of Geralt's hands comes around to hold the back of his neck and the other slips to his chest, thumb rubbing over his nipple and Jaskier very nearly comes right there. He whines and whimpers, writing amongst the mass of tentacles and Geralt kisses him hard, pinching his nipple and Jaskier thrusts into the coil of his tentacle, crying out as he comes.

Pleasure tears through him, bordering on pain as Geralt continues fucking into him, but it's so good, too good. The tentacle slips from his mouth, sliding back to cradle his head as it drops back and Geralt leans in to kiss him. He's twitching around him now, his cock snapping into him until Jaskier's seeing stars and then, with a groan against his parted lips, Geralt thrusts deep and shudders, pressing Jaskier tight against his chest.

After a moment, he continues rocking lightly, gently leaning Jaskier back so he can look at him. His expression is soft and he pulls a tentacle to take the place of his arm as he runs his fingers down Jaskier's chest.

"Feeling okay?" he asks and as Jaskier just groans softly in response, Geralt chuckles. "We've still got a few hours left until the tide is out far enough for it to be safe for you."

"Geralt," Jaskier huffs, "you're incredible, but I can't-" Geralt laughs again, dipping forward to kiss him.

It's soft and gentle and for a moment, Jaskier lets himself be drawn in, wrapping his arms around Geralt's neck. His cock brushes up against him and he whines at the sensitivity, but Geralt shifts, laying him down on the ground and slipping off to the side.

It's cold without Geralt around him and he feels suddenly very alone, but Geralt gets a hand on his hips and pulls him closer. Jaskier cuddles in, rolling onto his back with one leg slung over Geralt's.

"It's been a long time since I've had company," Geralt says, "do you mind if we just… talk?"

"That sounds lovely," Jaskier hums, "I don't think I'm up for a whole lot more than that tonight," he turns his head, flashing a grin at Geralt and earns himself a kiss for it. It worries him a little, how easily he responds to Geralt's affection, how readily he gives himself over to him. His mother always told him he'd end up hurt because of it, but he never fully understood what she meant before, but he thinks he might now.

"What would you like to talk about?"

Geralt asks many things about where he lives and what it's like there, how far it is whether Jaskier is happy there. Jaskier is happy to tell him anything he wants to know, but as time goes by, he starts to nod off, worn out from being fucked so thoroughly. Geralt just pulls him in and curls around him as he drifts, pressing his nose into Jaskier's hair.

When Jaskier wakes, Geralt is still there, breathing softly against him, though not asleep, and it only takes a moment to realize Geralt is the one who woke him.

"The tide is out if you want to go," he says softly, fingers coming up to slip through his hair.

"And if I don't?" Jaskier mumbles, shutting his eyes again and turning to throw his leg over Geralt's again, pressed against his chest.

"It'll be a while before the next tide-" he starts but Jaskier cuts him off with a grin, leaning up to kiss him softly.

"If it's all the same to you, I'd like to stay."

"Mm," Geralt hums, lacing his fingers with Jaskier's, "and why is that?"

"Because I like it here. I like the beach, I like the company. I'd like to get to know some of them better." Geralt scoffs, but when he rolls his eyes, his expression is fond.

"I wouldn't be… opposed to that, either."

"Good," Jaskier grins, "because I'd very much like to do this again sometime."

#geraskier #octo!geralt #mermay 2021 #rex writes

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spencersmagic · 3 years

Text

greet me with goodbye - part 7 of 505.

masterlist // 505 series // taglist

summary: the last minutes in their relationship were always going to hurt. they just didn’t know it would hurt this much

couple: fem reader x spencer reid

category: pure angst.

warnings: no happy ending YET. i will be posting the second part, where there will be a happy ending, but for now its sad. mentions of insecurity and self-doubt, relationships falling apart, love deteriorating in a way that you could only describe in detail if you've seen two divorces in your lifetime and have had plenty of time to question whether love is rotten because its love or if it rots because of carelessness. i, as a self-preserving genius, choose nº2.

words: 2.1k

time to read: 12 minutes.

this fic describes love deteriorating in a way that you could only describe in detail if you've seen two divorces in your lifetime and have had plenty of time to question whether love is rotten because its love or if it rots because of carelessness. i, as a self-preserving genius, choose nº2.

i do want to say, though, that any type of feelings or thoughts are best when expressed. tell him that what he did to you was wrong. tell her that her behaviour hurt you. tell them you've fallen for them. subtext gets us nowhere.

***

Their relationship had become clumsy.

But not in the sweet way. The way they spoke to each other didn’t resemble the first steps a foal takes. Their arms weren’t learning their way around their world anymore. They weren’t studying how each other’s heartbeat sounded at their touch, their words, in the form of a whisper that promised the world. They weren’t clumsily hugging each other, turning into a tight embrace once their arms found their place.

It was more of a carelessness. The feeling that they were constantly avoiding a conversation, that dark matter between their hearts that only seemed to grow. Like two magnets similarly charged, they would always leave a sacred space between each other, only coming into close proximity of each other when absolutely necessary. Still, she still noticed him pulling away.

Or at least that’s what Y/N felt.

Her heart had always been filled with fear: fear of the unknown, of being too loud, of being too present, too absent, too much. And when she felt him pulling away, she felt her heart being pulled apart. But, what else could she do? She’d given him everything. She’d given so much of herself to him, in hopes of being enough. The idea that Spencer was pulling away because of something she’d done, made Y/N sick to the stomach.

Because, day after day, night after night, she would wake up and he would be gone. And he would be asleep by the time she came back from work, not to mention the avoidance she was shown by the resident genius in the bullpen.

Y/N wasn’t going to be the type of person that forces herself onto someone that doesn’t want anything to do with her. She is a lot of things; strong, caring, independent, intelligent and, above all, observing. If he wants to greet her with goodbye, if he wants to show her disregard in the form of over-the-shoulder, rushed, tiny hello’s and dismissive gestures, she’s not going to act any other way.

He treated her like she was poison. She had given him nothing but honey and kindness, but he treated her like all she had to offer him was ulcers and dry mouth.

Sleepless nights holding each other slowly became restless nights hugging themselves in hopes of finding comfort in their own embrace.

He started staying up on the couch. She acted like it was a mistake, like she knew he didn’t mean to fall asleep so far away from her. He was grateful for this.

Because every time their hands would brush up against each other, she would feel the same spark she’s been feeling for the past two years. And he would feel anxiety creep up from his toes, spreading all over his limbs and heart.

He didn’t like the feeling. He especially didn’t like where it came from.

So, he minimized the amount of physical proximity they had together, until it escalated to taking turns on the couch, pairing up with anybody else during cases, and handing information that was pertinent to the case through Penelope.

It’s better this way, he reminded himself through every breathing moment, it’s better this way.

Spencer had made the following calculations.

If he distances himself from her enough to be convincing, The Woman would either think that Spencer loves her, thus leaving the love of his life alone, to live in peace. Perhaps she would find someone who wouldn’t put her in danger as much as Spencer did. Perhaps he would make her smile in the way he hadn’t been able to in the past three weeks. No matter how heartbreaking the thought was, he knew for a fact that his heart would be crushed forever if Y/N spent the last moments of her life at the unfortunate end of the barrel of a shaking gun in the hands of The Woman, as she had introduced herself.

The first option, though more appealing, is still not enough to keep her safe. He needed to make sure that, at the end of the day, she would be able to come home, and he wouldn’t have the aching feeling inside of his chest where something like that could happen again.

Y/N was known to sleep through anything. She’d slept through 76% of their flights, making her the highest ranked among the team, as Spencer had calculated once after having one too many drinks. She had fallen asleep in bars when their friends had dragged them out for drinks. She had fallen asleep in bullpens, cars and helicopters.

It wasn’t a surprise that she could sleep through a call between Spencer and The Woman, as she had a sniper pointer aimed at her chest through the window.

The call, which he didn’t even want to think about, had started everything. It had started his sleepless nights; it had started his paranoia and fear of being seen with her. It had created a distance between the two of them that could only be mended once The Woman was apprehended, or dead.

Spencer preferred the last.

He had never felt such anger. Spencer wasn’t the type to hate, but when she saw the way The Woman had been smirking at him, hands firm but careless, as she grasped her weapon from the house balcony diagonal to them, he could only think the darkest thoughts. Terrible ideas came to mind, of torture and endless pain, where she was at the other end.

She had asked him how she looked. She had even posed for him as he sobbed quietly. He could only dream of exactly how good she’d look surrounded by the prettiest flowers, in a casket.

He wanted to hurt her. In ways he’d never dreamt of hurting anybody before.

From that moment on, he had been texted from an unknown caller. She had been making requests. Spencer, won’t you buy me a beautiful dress? Spencer, it’s our anniversary, I expect a gift. And the latest. Spencer, buy me flowers, won’t you? I’ve had a terrible day.

So he had gone out. Done all these things she wanted, out of pure fear. Because every time he closed his eyes, he would see the red dot around Y/N’s chest. He would see the way her soft breath made her chest rise and fall as she slept a dreamless sleep. And it paralyzed him.

Spencer had been feeling observed for the past three weeks. Every time she called, her language always indicated that she was somewhere close, watching: a comment about how handsome he looked, how sad Y/N looked traveling alone in the metro, how much his shirt complimented his eyes. So, how could he even think about talking to Hotch, or Prentiss, or anybody else about what was going on? She seemed to creep up in every corner he would turn, every store he would walk into. Every breathing minute had her voice stamped on it.

Spencer walked into their apartment. It felt like a chill rushing onto him, like a ghost walking through him. Perhaps he had, once again, forgotten to call their HVAC repairman. He had been doing that for a while now, as Y/N would note: forgotten to make an effort for her, to fight for her.

Maybe, just maybe, it was the change in scenery. The warmth that usually rushed onto both of them, in the form of hugs and physical care, the smell of freshly baked cookies, or candles, or incense, or anything that said I care about this space, and I care about you.

But that was long gone. Forgotten.

He had expected Y/N to be sleeping. Or at least, pretending to sleep. But as he walked in, he saw her cooking. She was cooking Rossi’s pasta, a dish they had all been taught one day when Rossi invited them for “family bonding time”.

Only she wasn’t cooking. Upon further inspection Spencer realized that she was leaning over the sink. Hyperventilating.

He wanted to rush to her side. To hug her and tell her that everything would be alright. That soon, he would give her everything. He would be there next to her every night, loving her, showing her just how much she’s worth in his eyes. But he can’t do such thing. Not when She could be close, watching.

“Y/N? What is wrong?” he kept his voice as monotonous as possible, and it broke her heart further. It destroyed the last hope it held. Selfishly, naïvely, even, she thought that he would rush to her side, to hug her, tell her he’s sorry for what he’s done. Hell, even to explain just why he was treating her like she was nothing but an inconvenience.

“I can’t do this anymore, Spencer. You know I can’t. It’s not who I am” she whispered between soft sobs.

All he wanted to do was tell her how much he loved her. That he never wanted to hurt her. He wanted to explain the situation at hand, that he’s cooking up a plan and that, once The Woman disappears, they can go back to normal. But he stood there, emotionless. Like he was looking right past her.

She grabbed her coat, put on her boots and rushed out. Not another word was wasted in the rotten relationship that they had wanted to let flourish in that apartment.

He watched her leave before everything settled. Like dust - like tiny particles that had accumulated due to the carelessness, lack of trying.

When they started their relationship, Spencer had gone out of his way to make her feel loved.

He knew how much she had worked to get to where she is in terms of self-confidence and love. He knew just how hard it had been for her, because Spencer had been there every step of the way. He had loved her through every moment where she couldn’t love herself. He had introduced her to the world of affirmations, and how important it is for her to remind herself every single morning that she’s worthy of love, that she is allowed to take up space and that she’s beautiful.

After their first fight, which was instigated by the feeling she constantly had of not feeling enough, resulting in some harmful words said and some feelings left unexpressed, he made sure she knew just how much he loved her. He told her my love, I will love you until my heart stops beating. And, if, for any reason, I change my mind, which I know wont happen, I will immediately tell you. Until then, I will love you as much as you need. But you need to remind yourself, too.

As she walked out of the doorway, she affirmed once again.

Spencer is my boyfriend, he loves me, and there’s nothing he wouldn’t do for me. She added, he’s right behind me. He’s following me out because he cares about us, and wants to fight for what we have.

But as she turned around, he was gone.

And she was left only with the constant reminder that the embrace of the coat she had picked out could never replace the feeling of his arms around her, soothing her.

After what felt like forever, but was probably sometime around two hours, she decided to walk back to their shared apartment.

She had cried, called Penelope to tell her what happened, lied down on the grass looking up at the stars in that park they went on a picnic to during one of their first dates. She had screamed in anger, and kicked the ground, and cried over an ant she had stepped on accidentally.

She had made decisions. Decisions to go back, to leave him, make a bag with all of her belonging, the things that she had picked out to nourish an environment and relationship that was bound to fail. And she would leave.

But, as Y/N walked back, she found the front door open, the apartment trashed in a way that screamed threat, and a promise in the form of a note.

I know where you are. If you come looking for him, I will kill you both.

ºººººººººº

if you liked it, please consider liking and reblogging, or sending me an message.

super cool kid taglist: @lady-anon-x @username2002 @eoupe @galaxydefenderjulia @spencerreid-mgg @spenxerslut @urie-bowie-mercury @onyourfingertips @big-galaxy-chaos @fiftyshadesofspencerreid @tbuhgs @jswessie187

tags not working: @idontwantyourcookiesthanks

i love you all. stay happy, healthy and safe. 🤍🫂

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thoughtfullyyoungduck · 3 years

Text

Never felt the rain

Summary: Could you write something with Bill having a young daughter and when she asks him to go playing outside in the rain while he was working, he brushed her off, so she went out on own her own and got lost, so Bill thinks she went missing like Georgie?

A/N: here you go anon, I hope you enjoy! Please let me know what you think, it would mean a lot! Also, thank you for requesting this, it had me writing again after a long time and I really missed it, so thank you

Bill has a habit of writing as soon as rain starts drizzling from the sky. He doesn’t usually maintain a schedule, especially not after going back to Derry for a second time an gaining six friends who flitted straight back into his life and who each deserved as much of his time as the others, but when it rains, he forces himself behind the computer.

He draws the curtains shut, puts on a pair of noise cancelling headphones, and hopes that the downpour stops soon. According to his therapist, it’s because the weather reminds him of the day Georgie died and he turns to writing as a distraction, and while she might not be wrong, Bill prefers not to think about the specifics. All he knows is that as soon as dark clouds gather, he retreats to his study.

Audra knows this, and has, to Bills great shame, been a victim to his snappish behavior when he gets disturbed, so she leaves him be, and takes their daughter, Lily, on a mother daughter retreat. It’s their own routine that work well for the both of them, and so far, there haven’t been any problems with it.

Today, the bad weather struck out of nowhere, the rain spatters drumming their own beat on the windows and the foundation of the house, and Bill and remembers how bleak Georgie’s last day on earth had been. He retreats to his study in quiet without informing his daughter or wife about his plans, and slips into an imaginary world, where there’s no rain or bad memories.

He gets lost in it, thankfully. The rhythmic tapping of his keyboard and his own hushed voice lull him into a state so fully focused it allows him to forgo his environment. That includes ignoring the rain, but also the wooden door opening behind him as a small child sneaks in, big blue eyes full of a playful innocence.

He doesn’t hear Lily calling out to him, and is only notified of her arrival when her hand tugs on the sleeve of his shirt. It startles him, a cursed ‘Jesus’, slipping from his mouth before he clamps his teeth over his lips to stop more from tumbling out.

‘Daddy’, Bill reads of his daughters face, before he finally clads off the headset and hears her voice filter through.

She’s Georgie’s age now, and she resembles him a lot. For one, she looks up to her dad with as much wonder as her uncle did, a daddy’s girl through and through. She has the Knick for adventure too, though Bill is not sure that’s always a good thing.

‘What is it honey?’ He asks her with a soft voice. He suppresses the twinge of annoyance, now he’s broken out of his concentration, it’s hard not to notice the outside, and it’ll be difficult to reenter his writing groove.

‘Can we play outside?’ She suggest, lips contorted in a devious little smile that proves that Audra must have said no to her question, and she’s now trying her hand at the person she has wrapped around her finger.

Bill’s gut reaction is to agree. How could he not, when he made the promise to himself to always be the best dad he could be, ever since finding out Audra was pregnant. He swore to himself that he’d never neglect his child, never put her on the backburner for anyone or anything, and that he’d enjoy, relish in every memory he’d be allowed to make with her.

But, he can’t. Not in this situation. Not when Pennywise only came back a mere four months ago, and he was forced into painful memories and past mistakes. Not when he’s relatively convinced that IT’s gone for real, but not 100% assured.

He smiles painfully, and gently pulls his daughter in his lap. It’s not so much that he’s trying to spoil his daughter, it’s just that he loves spending time with her as much as she adores spending time with him. His heart twinges painfully at the notion of disappointing her.

‘Not right now Lil, Daddy’s working.’ He presses a kiss on the top of her head, and squeezes her a bit tighter when a particularly hard downpour causes his heart to clench painfully. If only he had given Georgie a hug like this before letting him out that day.

It’s far too late for that regret now, but he won’t allow the same fate to be bestowed upon his daughter.

‘Please?’ Lily pouts, blinking her eyes in a way that is entirely disarming. She’s so good at convincing, she would make an excellent actress one day. ‘It’ll be so much fun.’ She leans in closer on Bill’s lap, bumping her forehead against Bill’s chest. ‘I promise I won’t step in any puddles.’

It’s a complete lie of course, and Bill can’t help but grin at the idea of Lilly thinking she’s being sneaky about the whole thing, but still, he can’t concur.

‘Later, alright buttercup? And I promise that I’ll spend an entire day with you tomorrow?’

Lily doesn’t smile, so Bill does the one thing he’s become a pro at since becoming a dad; ticking her until she can’t help but laugh.

She shrieks instantly, squirming away from Bill’s fingers as the dance over her sides until she’s nearly toppled of his lip in her haste to escape him, and then giggles long after Bill’s stopped.

Once that too dies out, she bites her lip, seemingly scanning her chances of getting him to agree on going out anyway, but then she concedes.

‘Alright then’, she says a little bit disheartened, but agreeing none the less. She slitters back out as quiet as she came in, but not before a kiss over her shoulder and waving at Bill.

‘See you later dad.’

Bill smiles and waves back, crushed by love and grief battling in his heart for the upper hand, then he puts on his headphone, covers his ears, and he neglects to hear the front door open and lock with a deafening pull.

----

In the end, it’s the guilt that makes him give up only a half hour after Lilly came in to ask for his time. He peruse the last line he’d written, he hadn’t managed to find his flow after the interruption anyway, and closes the document of his new book for the day.

He still can’t find the strength to go outside in this weather but perhaps he can convince Lily that watching a movie and snacking on popcorn is a much better activity then getting wet and cold.

He shuffles into the kitchen, where Audra’s is already at, and wonders if they have enough corn to put together homemade popcorn.

‘Do you think Lily will want to watch a movie? I’m thinking Disney might be the way to go?’ He inquires Audra absentmindedly while scouring the pantries for the ingredients he needs. He knows, just from the sounds of Audra’s voice that something’s the matter.

‘She’s not with you?’ Audra chokes out, voice pinched in panic.

Bill’s heart stops for a full second, before rabbiting so hard his chest feels like exploding.

‘What?’ He asks, but the words feel foreign, like he’s not the one saying it. Audra’s responding look is enough to give him all the answers he needs.

----

The rain remains unforgiven towards Bill, the background of the yet another great tragedy in his life. Cliché as it is, it does help cover up his tears, about the only positive thing in his situation right now. Audra is next to him, on the same level of utter panic as Bill’s, but he hopes for her sake that he appears more composed then he actually is.

He viciously wishes for the losers to be with him now, but calling them would take up to much time and they live too far away to be of any aid anyway.

His neighbors are aiding in the search, but they’re not enough. He doesn’t trust them like he trust his friends, he doesn’t want the life of his daughter depending on strangers.

They keep telling him that she’s fine, that she’s most likely having the time of her life without realizing how her parents are in shambles, but Bill can’t believe that. Lily’s been out for at least thirty minutes, that’s the time they noticed she had disappeared, and even Bill is shivering his socks off. He can’t afford to think about how cold Lily must be.

He separates from the group of searches after the weird glances he receives unsettled peeks when he ducks on his knees and calls out for his daughter in a sewer. Audra, who knows in part what happened to Georgie, lets out a sob.

Bill feels bad for leaving his wife all by herself, but he wants to cover as much ground as possible. He can’t wait at their front porch praying for Lily’s safe return, he knows from experience how feeble that is.

The options of where Lily could be are limited. Her friends live too far away for her to have walked to them, and there was only one place kids of her age liked to hang out. Still, when the park turns up nothing, he scours the area surrounding it, yelling out Lily’s name until his voice skips and a hoarse tone underline his words.

‘P-p-please.’ He screams with his head thrown back towards the sky, his stutter going unnoticed. ‘H-haven’t you t-t-taken enough from m-m-me?’ He’s unsure who he’s calling out too.

Bill’s attention is pulled towards a curtain that wobbles open, and old lady peeking from behind it, judging him with curious eyes. The first one to gossip apparently, but the last to help. Just as with Georgie. Bile threatened to spill as Bill walks on.

With his energy running low, as does his hope, Bill concedes to try and walk in the other direction of his home, to see if anyone else has had more luck than him. Then, seemingly using up all of Bill’s luck for the rest of his life, a wobbled; ‘Daddy’, cries out.

He’s never backed up so quick, and when he lays eyes on Lily, he’s never run that fast towards her either. It’s the pure and utter fear you experience as a kid, when you get lost in a comic in the store and you swivel back around to your mom, but she’s gone somewhere and you can’t find her.

That’s the feeling that linger when you lose someone close to you. And when she pops back up, that’s the utter relief Bill gets to taste now.

He’s back on his knees before he can comprehend it, and his hand curls around Lily’s back and head, cradling her so close this chest it’s nearly suffocating. Bill weeps, caressing his daughters hair as he checks her over.

‘Oh honey’, he chokes, swelling multiple times to force back the lump of tears.

Lily’s crying too, though it seems more out of reluctant than anything else.

‘I’m sorry dad. I just wanted to go out and play. But I fell and I think my bike is broken. I’m really sorry.’

Bill sorrow laughs. He can’t stop the ridiculous laughter that’s so absurd.

‘Lily, I couldn’t care less about a bike’, Bill explains, and he means it every bit. He pulls her back in a tight hug, allowing himself ten more seconds before he has to let go of her.

‘Please don’t ever do that again,’ he whispers, leaving a quick kiss on her head. He holds her as close as he wish he could have done to Georgie, if he had been found alive too. Maybe later, tomorrow or the day after, he’d have a more firm conversation about how sneaking out is not okay, but today, the relief wins over every other emotion or lecture.

‘Is mom mad?’ Lily asks, her own arms clenched around Bill’s shirt so tight it’s clear that she also had a large fright.

Shit, Audra. In an instant, Bill picks up his daughter, arm holding her up by the knees. She’s old enough to walk, but Bill has longer legs and walks faster.

‘No’, he assures her, despite a conformation of Audra. He’s sure his feeling are rekindled in his wife too. ‘But we have to let her know you’re okay. She’s worried too.’

‘Okay’, Lily agrees easy, her head resting on Bill’s shoulders. The rain isn’t that cold anymore, now that he has his child back in the safety of his arms.

----

That evening, Bill, Audra and Lily are cuddles together on their couch, watching Aladdin. Lily has long slipped to the land of dreams, but Bill and Audra want to keep her close for a little while longer. Maybe they’ll all spend the night here anyway, regardless of future back pains, but that’s a discussion for later.

Bill swipes one of Lily’s curls from her forehead gently, smiling when she snores deeper, then settles again.

‘Love you buttercup.’ Bill says, in his mind, he thinks, ‘I’ll never let anything happen to you.’

#request #My writing #bill denbrough #bill denbrough imagines #bill denbrough as a dad #bill denbrough x daughter #the losers club imagines #it chapter two imagine #adult losers #adult Bill denbrough #audra

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consumeconstantly · 4 years

Text

The Only Antidote is a Kiss

Summary: Scarecrow always did come up with the most whacky chemical formulas to test on people. Red Hood gets dosed with his latest toxin, and the only way to cure it is with a kiss. The only candidate? Long time rival and almost enemy, Ladybird.

____________________________________________________

“No,” Red Hood said, resolutely. “No way in hell.”

Red Robin’s exasperated voice crackled over the comm. “Hood, if you don’t, you’re going to die.”

“Do you think I care? Death is better.”

“I would say that’s insulting if I didn’t feel the exact same way.” Ladybird nonchalantly twirled a yoyo at her side. “Besides, ten minutes is plenty of time to get him someone else.”

“You two are in the middle of nowhere. It’s thirty minutes to the nearest city.”

“Yeah, but the suburbs are always an option. You Bats always seem to miss the obvious solution.”

“I’m not kissing her,” Red Hood repeated.

“I know that you two are…” Red Robin tried to find a more delicate way to word their relationship, “Not always on the best of terms, but you are on the same side right now. Ladybird, you don’t want Red Hood to die, do you?”

Plying Ladybird was always easier than trying to convince Red Hood. The woman had a heart of gold. Today? No such luck.

“He’s not going to die,” Ladybird scoffed. “If he dies over this instead of the many, many, many assassination attempts that I saved him from, I’ll feel insulted. But I’m also not going to help. I’m not going to kiss an unwilling party, and certainly not one with a mug as ugly as Red Hood.”

“You’ve never even seen my face!” Red Hood argued from safely inside his beauteous red bucket.

“Yeah, well you’ve never seen mine either, and yet somehow, you have no issue with calling me disfigured every time our paths cross.”

“You’re wearing a mask. Only people who are horribly scarred wear full face masks.”

“Oh, so you’re admitting you’re ugly then?”

“No, I’m wearing a helmet, not a mask. Big difference.”

Ladybird barely stopped herself from bashing her head against the cement and steel wall. If the action didn’t break her mask, she would have considered going through with it. “God, this is why I’m not going to kiss him, Red Robin. Can’t you use one of those zeta things and drop in a girl for him to make out with?”

“You know they don’t work like that.”

“I wouldn’t know, it’s not like I’m in the Justice League.”

“Not for a lack of trying! We’ve offered you the position at least ten different times.”

“Yeah, on the condition that I get Red Hood to join up too. That certainly doesn’t sound like you guys actually want my help.”

“Nine minutes on the clock,” an automated voice reminded them.

“I say we blow this popsicle stand,” Red Hood pointed a finger up at the cement ceiling.

“Wow, what a stupendously original idea, Red Hood. It’s almost like the next thing out of your mouth might be something vaguely resembling intelligence. Oh wait, that’s right. We can’t get out of this hell hole because there’s three feet of cement on every side of us and we have no weapons that can help.”

“I haven’t had a crack at it, yet.”

“Be my guest. I’ll sit back and laugh at your failed attempts.” Ladybird reclined on a wall. “We both know that between the two of us, I’m the one who’s better at escape and solutions that don't require firearms. You don’t think with either one of your heads, you think with your AK-47.”

“My babies are all I need to get the job done. Your plans are always so unnecessarily convoluted.”

“They’re convoluted so I can cover my tracks instead of leaving evidence, debris, and dead bodies behind.”

“Uh, guys? Can you have your spat after Hood’s life is out of immediate danger?”

“No,” both of them chorused, immediately glaring at each other for speaking in sync.

“I doubt Scarecrow actually came up with a formula that will make you die if you don’t kiss someone of the opposite gender within ten minutes. That seems like the kind of chemical compound that’s featured in all of those really trashy romance novels, except instead of being unable to control your instincts, you die.” Ladybird considered the empty vial on the floor. “I’m confident that Red Hood can ride this out with minimal damage. Even if he does get horny, it’s not like he’s going to go for me-- drug induced state or not, he can’t stand my guts.”

“Can I just say that I don’t want to bank his life on that assumption?”

“It’s not like your life is the one at stake. Just try to get someone out here that can break down this welded door for us sooner, rather than later.” Ladybird gives Red Hood a once over. “Besides, if he does try anything, we all know that I’m more than capable of tying him up.”

“Hey, why don’t you use that Lucky Charm of yours?”

“Do you think I didn’t think of that already? That was one of the first things I considered.”

“So why didn’t you use it?”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe the fact that after I do, I detransform within five minutes? Not a big fan of exposing my identity, plus it’s not like anybody’s in any real danger because we’re locked up here. Scarecrow’s tied up, the goons that welded the door shut on us aren’t capable of using their brains, and a team is going to bust us out in thirty minutes anyways.”

For the millionth time, Red Hood pounded his shoulder against the steel weld, hoping that something would give. Nothing happened.

A beep sounded.

“Ten minutes have passed.”

“See?” Ladybird crowed triumphantly. “I was right. Nothing’s--”

Red Hood fell to the floor, clawing at his chest.

“... happening. I jinxed it, didn’t I? I guess I’ll use it, then.”

Ladybird called for a lucky charm. No antidote fell into her hand. Just a sheet of paper, saying Kiss him.

“You’ve got to be kidding me. Tikki, don’t do me dirty like this!”

“Tikki? Who’s Tikki? What did the Lucky Charm give you?”

A wet cough sounded from underneath Red Hood’s helmet. He started to gasp for air.

Ladybird didn’t like Hood, but Red Robin was right. She had grown fond of him after saving his ass so many times. She wasn’t just going to let him die, especially not when she could help him. With a bone weary sigh, she knelt next to Red Hood.

“I guess we’re doing this, aren’t we? Red Robin, comms off.”

“Off? But Hood sounds like--”

“Off,” she repeated, firmly. “Or I’ll break them.”

The telltale sign of static ceased in her ears.

Ladybird held Red Hood by his shoulders, maneuvering his mask off.

“I hope you’re ugly,” she whispered.

He was not.

Even with blood on his lips, Jason Todd was unfortunately attractive.

“Gonna--” he coughed again, the spray of blood accompanied by a wheeze. “Bless me with your face before I die?”

“I can’t believe that you’re still snarky while you’re on death’s door.” Ladybird touched the full face mask that she added during her years as a vigilante in Gotham. She still has the usual Ladybug eye cover, so her identity is safe. But the noh mask provides a sense of safety to her. She’s loathe to take it off, but in order for a kiss to work, it needs to be put aside. With a sigh, she places it on the ground and places a hand over Red Hood’s startlingly blue eyes.

“Kinky,” he spat. Ladybird grimaced. Why she ended up on this mission alone with Red Hood was beyond her, but they always ended up in the worst situations together somehow, anyways.

Her lips descended on his.

Iron and sweat.

“Okay,” she said, wiping her lips with the hand that wasn’t preoccupied with shielding Red Hood’s eyes. “You feeling any better?”

He coughed again.

“Great, so Scarecrow was lying and I didn’t have to kiss you. You were just going to die anyways.”

She placed her noh mask back on, then pressed a button on her comm. “You’re going to want to speed up the whole backup team. Looks like Scarecrow was lying.”

“You’re kidding me. Scarecrow never lies--”

Red Hood sat up shakily.

“I’m fine, Replacement. Throat’s a little sore, but I’m fine.”

“Good to know his MO hasn’t changed,” Ladybird remarked. “I’d suggest that you wipe your face with something. It’s covered in blood.”

“And Ladybird cooties.” Red Hood used his forearm to wipe the blood off. Ladybird had to admit that the man was objectively good looking. The artist in her wanted to take a picture or sketch him. The shock of white hair, symmetrical features, and prominent nose. His eyes had a certain darkness in them, like he had seen the worst of the world, but there was still a clarity to them that said he was fighting against those injustices. “C’mon, you’ve seen my face, don’t you think it’s time to exchange the favor?”

“Backup’s arriving in three,” interjected Red Robin.

“There’s nothing in it for me.” Ladybird tugged the hood of her cloak down lower.

“Isn’t it weird that we kissed and I don’t know your face?”

“No.”

“You really are into some kinky shit.”

“Also no on that.”

“Then why not show me your face?”

“Stop being such a brat.”

“I know I’m older than you.”

“Bratiness isn’t measured in age, but in mental maturity. Which you have none of.”

“Please?”

“I’m almost tempted to take off my noh mask if only because that’s the first time I’ve ever heard you say the word please.”

“If I say it again, will you?”

“I’ll consider it.”

“Pretty please, Ladybird?”

“... Fine.” She’d get a laugh out of this anyways, and the team was minutes away from picking them up.

She took off her noh mask to reveal the red and black domino.

Red Hood cursed.

@jasonette-july-2k20

it’s wild that yall are liking my fics when i basically vomit these things up im honestly scared to look back at some of the ones that have been posted because i do not proof read or edit

#poison #jasonette #you ever want to see what's under a mask?#only to find another mask?#Marinette's masks are like those russian dolls #never ending #maribat #jasonette july #jason todd #marinette dupain cheng #miraculous ladybug #dcu

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yandere-sins · 3 years

Text

In His Clutches

Following up with what I said in my last post, I’ll try to do some requests for now until my mental health recovers enough to continue the Fox Wedding, and first on my list is a request I received over ko-fi and which got way too delayed because of yantober and christmas time >_< Please enjoy some Overhaul for a change!

Rating: Mature Warning: Yandere, Blackmailing, Forced Submissiveness, Rough Handling, Mentioning of Blood, Threats, Insults, Mentioning of Violence, Also Chisaki how he was before his arc I have no idea how he behaves currently lol Words: 2120

With the way your head met the linoleum floor, you wondered if the fluid you felt on your skin were tears or perhaps a bloody nose. Even if you weren’t screaming out loud from the pain yet, the impact hurt like hell, and you had to take deep breaths to deal with the aftermath. No wonder you felt an instant wave of dizziness hit you, but being unable to focus your sight and not have nervosity and your shaken mind puke all over the floor were the least of your problems.

Latest when something long and textured lowered down onto the back of your head, did you even realize what you had been forced to do with your involuntary fall to the ground. Without being able to make out anyone before you right away, you were definitely propped into a bowing position, forehead touching the floor, and when you tried to fight off what was holding you down, you looked entirely like a person pleading for forgiveness. “Look what filth honors us today,” a snarky voice picked up, and you could hear small feet pace before you. “The audacity that you’d even show here!”

You were about to complain and set the voice straight that you were not here because you wanted to, but rather because you’d been pulled into a car in the middle of the day and feared for your life if you didn’t move as you were told. But your head was turned to the side suddenly and ungently, and though you shoot daggers at the people before you, once you got used to the light blinding you, you felt a cold shudder run down your spine as your view cleared.

Penetrating, golden irises looked down from above, a body posture as unfazed and unbothered as only someone who knew they had the upper hand could have. The black mask moved slowly as the man before you spoke, never fully revealing his face, and yet the sight in front of you brought a shiver down your spine. “Like gum under my soles,” he agreed to the first voice, and you finally realized what was pressing you down. Polished, seemingly new, white shoes stepped all over you, applying and taking the pressure as he pleased but never giving you the chance to escape from the floor you were pinned to.

The realization of your failed plans began to slowly but surely manifest throughout your body, a light shivering overcoming you as you lowered your eyes, squeezing them shut. A meager attempt of wishing this was just a bad dream, and perhaps you could wake up in your bed soon and atone for what you had done, leave the country even and never come back.

It had been a gamble, really. A half-hearted attempt to break free from the monotonous life you were living and become someone exciting and filthy rich. Everything seemed too easy and safe when it was proposed to you; write the letter and send it off. Gloves, face masks, using the mailbox furthest from your home-- you had remembered EVERYTHING. And yet, you still got caught, so how-?

“How did we find out?” Kai Chisaki, leader of the yakuza clan known as the Shie Hassaikai and the recipient of your attempted blackmailing, spoke calmly and outwardly unfazed. From his hand hung the white letter you had used, the paper with the demand for money so the truth of their doings wouldn’t reach the wrong ears peeking out from it. Yet, when he lifted it up into your view, gloved fingers dug inside between the paper, pulling something out that you’d have never expected to leave behind. It was so small, probably only the rest of it after testing, barely noticeable. Still, you cringed, realizing that they had traced your DNA back to you by something so minor and silly as a hair.

“I’m not a criminal,” you mumbled, noticing the distinctive, fearful shiver in your voice.

“Obviously,” a small, black form, resembling a stuffed animal, huffed, and you were sure if he could have, he’d have rolled his eyes at you.

“They just told me what to do, and I- I just wanted to make some quick cash. You have to believe me! I don’t even know what they know! I only made the letter...”

The following silence was downright disturbing to you, a few seconds turning into the eternity one must feel before getting beheaded back in medieval times. A sigh eventually signaled the end of the nerve-tearing wait as countless ideas of what was going to happen to you now circled through your head. Finally, the foot lifted from your head and flapping the letter in his hand, Chisaki gave the underlings assembled in the room a signal.

With groans and clicks of their tongues, bodies all around you began to move and disappear through doors that you couldn’t have made out with how perfectly they fitted into the white walls around you. You slowly lifted your torso off the ground again, looking after the last one of them disappear without even so much as a glance back over their shoulder, the doors closing automatically behind them. Suddenly, only the boss and you remained in this interrogation room, even though you were too afraid to dare and look at him. Instead, you focused your eyes on your hands, wondering why he’d want to be alone with you. If what you had always thought criminals did with people that defied them, then disposing of you didn’t seem like the work the boss would do. Truly, combining with the confusion you felt, the situation was only growing worse by the second.

“Working at a bank, inheriting the house of your parents, a pretty penny in your accounts. Sounds like a good life, and yet, you’d still resort to this.”

The envelope containing the letter landed right before you, sliding over the ground up to your knees. Biting your lip, you didn’t know what to say, especially when he almost sounded disappointed in you. His patronizing way of pointing out your faults didn’t make you feel any better or less scared, as Chisaki still didn’t appear to mean you well. Even the truth seemed like such a waste of air if spoken out loud, but what better was there to admit?

“... interesting.”

“Louder,” he demanded, his foot falling back down, this time on your hand, crushing it the longer you refused to speak up.

“I wanted to make it more interesting!” you gasped out loudly, clutching your hand close to your body the moment he let go. “I didn’t mean to harm you, Sir! You must believe me!”

This time you did look at him, with the most rueful eyes you could muster even, hoping to achieve anything, literally anything that would change the situation. “Hm,” he hummed in contemplation, and you gulped as you felt yourself run out of options. However, you didn’t expect him to sigh again before leaning forward, his eyes drilling into you as if he was trying to break you just with his stare. You had heard rumors. Rumors that he wasn’t quite sane and overtaken by his ambitions and germaphobia. Nonetheless, his eyes were clear, your reflection in them more fearful than you must have ever been in your whole life.

“You can beg better than that, I think,” he declared.

In your panicked state of mind, you agreed with a short, firm nod, barely inching closer before noticing his eyes narrow reprimandingly, making you stop immediately. “P-Please don’t hurt me! I’d do anything! I was just the deliverer of the message! I know nothing, and if you let me go, I’ll never speak a word about what happened here--”

“Then tell me who made you write this letter.”

His instructions were clear, even though they made your blood freeze. “I don’t know…” you whispered, your body slowly shutting down as you realized it wasn’t the answer he wanted to hear. With a disapproving click of his tongue, a gloved hand reached forward, remaining at the corner of your eye for a split second. You ducked away from his touch, squeezing your eyes shut, but before you knew it, it was gone again, as if he decided against doing what he had wanted. Only now, you realized the tears collected in your eyes, not yet spilling but there as you had started to despair over the situation. However, there was no time to ponder about them as Chisaki spoke up again.

“Who,” he calmly said. “Tell me, and you are free to go.”

But you didn’t. You couldn’t. You had followed the instructions given to you online via an online forum you used to chat with strangers. You never actually met anyone personally before becoming a complice. You had always believed it was so much safer, but you were dead wrong. Sniffling, you shook your head, averting your eyes as you saw your chances of survival and escaping dwindling. “I have no idea…”

Not much sound escaped you anymore as you lowered your head, defeated, accepting your due punishment for your stupidity. There was nothing you could have proven or handed to him to make you look any better. “Pity,” Chisaki said eerily calm, taking a deep breath before standing up, and you agreed. It was your life thrown away for the aspect of quick money. Naive thinking that you’d actually profit from this when in reality, you had simply been the decoy, or perhaps a lab rat, for the real masterminds behind the plan of blackmailing him.

He didn’t say anything else as he watched you for a few moments more, rounding the chair he had been sitting on and walking towards one of the doors hidden in the walls, the sound of it opening making you snap back to reality. “W-Wait!” you called after him weakly. “What’s going to happen now?”

At first, you thought he’d ignore you, but just before disappearing in the dark corridor beyond this room, Chisaki stopped, being the only one to glance back over his shoulder at you. It was scary how little you could read the man from his eyes alone, no feeling whatsoever shimmering in them.

“Now? You’re going to stay in here until you remember, of course. That or one of my men needs a new punchbag.”

And with that, he was gone, the door closing behind his back and leaving you all alone in the maddening white interrogation room. However, the worst was the ringing of his last few words that kept creeping back in your mind, causing you to cup your ears with your hands, hoping it would silence those thoughts. Thoughts of you - or rather, your blood splattered all across this room if his threat was to come true.

Unfortunately for you and your anxiety-induced paranoia, you didn’t hear the words spoken beyond your whereabouts in the secret underground of the organization. Not the praising, “You showed ’em boss!” of Mimic as he ran after Kai, having waited dutifully for his superior. “How do you want to proceed? Should we get rid of them right away?”

Kai’s answer was hesitant as he thought about it, unusual for him as he always had quick instructions to give to his underlings. “No,” he eventually said, sternly so. Hand lifting to his neck, he felt the beginning of a new rash prick at his skin, scratching it as he got lost in thought. “The letter’s pretty good; maybe we can use their skill. And we don’t know yet who sent them. They’ll stay.”

He heard the confused and exasperated huff of disbelieve behind him, but his words were final, even if Mimic disagreed. “If they become troublesome, I’ll clean them up myself. No one is to bother them.”

And with that, Kai could devote himself to his thoughts, thinking about all the ways he could purify you. Perhaps, things finally wouldn’t be so boring anymore as you always complained to him on the forum he met you. If anyone, Kai was sure he could make your life much more interesting by his side, once he got rid of your filthiness that unfortunately still caused rashes to erupt from him, even though being so close to you made him feel so alive.

But first, he’d have to delete the profile he used to trick you right into his clutches, as he couldn’t risk anyone else finding out about your whereabouts once they’d notice your disappearance. After all, it would take a lot of time to reform you, but Kai knew you were worth the trouble.

It was dirty work, but with your potential, how could he refuse if it was you?

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michibikionmain · 3 years

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Who Blew Up the Community House?

This is a very pressing question to me in the Dream SMP lore right now, and I’ve seen a handful of theories surfacing and I’d like to explain and post some of my own/the more popular ones.

Dream

This seems to be everyone’s favorite theory right now and I can see why. He does the most things off stream, he’s been one of the most violent and active villains on the server since the very beginning. On top of that, there’s him mentioning to Punz that he planed on doing something that would “upset everyone on the server”, which could be referring to blowing up the community house. It would also be the last thing of value left to him on the server and destroying it would completely detach him from everything, meaning no one has anything that could resemble power over him.

The only thing holding me back from thinking it was done by Dream is that I’d like to believe that his character still holds some things special and important and that things like the community house would be one of those things. He clearly holds some reverence for places on the server based on the fact that he hasn’t touched church prime and abides by and listens to the laws of the holy land. If he’s willing to respect something that was built by him, Tommy, and Tubbo, it would make sense for him to respect the home he built with his closest friends, George, Sapnap, Sam, Callahan, etc.

He also has no other home and refers to as the only place he still felt safe on the server, since he’s turned nearly everyone else into his enemy. It could be him, but there are a couple of other possibilities I’d like to discuss.

Tommy

While less likely than Dream destroying the community house, this seems to be everyone’s theory in canon. Tommy has a long history of destroying things on the server, especially things related to Dream. He even mentioned the other day on stream that he wanted to destroy the community to get back at Dream. Living with Technoblade would also have definitely given him access to the materials to do so. His main motivations lately have revolved around getting revenge on Dream in order to get his gun back, so he has the ways and means to.

There’s only a couple of things that make this unlikely. For example, Tommy rarely does anything off stream, so for him to do something so massive off stream is a bit strange for him. It would also be weird for him not to make any kind of ultimatum threat before hand. He also seemed rather insistent that he did not do this, swearing on church prime.

It could be him, and this is definitely something Tommy would have done, but I feel like he would’ve done it in a very different way.

Technoblade

So if Tommy himself didn’t do it, what about his closest ally at the moment, his only real ally right now? Technoblade has shown no hesitation to destroying things, having no qualms for doing them with little warning like when he spawned the wither the other day in L’manburg, giving them no time to discuss alternative bartering chips because he just wanted to destroy L’manberg and still wants to destroy L’manberg entirely. He even talked about doing this with Tommy.

He definitely could do something like this, but I don’t believe he would. Techno currently owes Dream a favor, and is well aware that the community house is important to Dream. This would leave him in an unfavorable position and Techno is too smart to do something like that. There’s also the fact that Techno has no real motivation to blow up the community house.

Yes, he said he might help Tommy with that, but his fight isn’t with everyone on the server or with Dream, it’s specifically with government. The community house isn’t associated with L’manburg, who he hates for personal grudges, or government, which he is morally opposed to. He could’ve done this, and maybe would’ve if he was directly helping Tommy at the time, but probably wouldn’t have done so alone and off stream.

Quackity

This leaves my final, and probably most interesting theory: Quackity. This might seem like it’s coming out of left field, but I have my reasons okay trust me. If you think about who has gained the most out of the festival today with the least losses, Quackity comes out on top. While he didn’t technically kill Dream properly, and they lost the disks, if he’s behind this he would have brought Dream to his lowest possible point, which is arguably more useful to him than having Dream completely dead if his goal is power on the server. He brought Tommy out of exile, where not only is he useful but also serves as another jab at Dream.

The only thing Quackity “lost” is that he officially left L’manberg, which isn’t a real loss since he has the political power of El Rapids now, which he is completely the president without a proper vice or cabinet to oppose him. Destroying the community house would also destroy George and Sapnap’s last remaining tie to Dream, further separating them from Dream and hopefully getting them more on his side. I’m sure Quackity is going to push the theory that Dream blew up the community house, and he could easily use that as yet another weapon against Dream to gain power. He also technically has L’manberg as an ally against Dream, at least for tomorrow. Quackity lost nothing in the destruction of the community house because it doesn’t matter to him. He wasn’t around for the early days of the server and has shown that he doesn’t particularly care about the history of the server when it doesn’t completely benefit him.

This works even better if he’s being possessed by JSchlatt, like he’s hinted at, the parallels between the new festival and the old one: both being planned with malicious intentions then being turned on their heads to end in a violent betrayal. From a literary standpoint he’s the most interesting option, and from a character development standpoint he’d get the most development from doing this. When it comes to the actual story Quackity is the best option to have blown up the community house.

Is Quackity the most likely answer? No, but I sure can hope that they’d give this to him and flesh out his identity as a character and take his possession arc somewhere cool. It could be any of these four and the only one that would really surprise me is Technoblade, all are really compelling and lead to different places for the story to go in the future.

#dsmp lore #dsmp analysis #dsmp theory #dreamwastaken #tommyinnit #technoblade #quackity

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aimoosh-blog · 3 years

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BERSERK: A MASTERSTROKE IN VIOLENCE

Berserk is a series that is both influential and overlooked. This might sound pretentious to fans of the gory medieval anime, but hear me out. Despite having a long-running manga which was originally released back in the ‘90's, after two anime series, a trilogy of movies and various video game adaptations, Berserk still remains somewhat niche and obscure.

The series is known for its gruesome imagery and I would strongly advise that if you've experienced abuse or are easily affected by violent and distressing material, that this series simply isn't for you. However, it's this cycle of violence that makes Berserk so compelling.

Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery and the Soulsborne series doesn't shy away from this. Hidetaka Miyazaki has openly discussed how Berserk inspired games like Dark Souls and Bloodborne and you don't have to look far to find Berserk's influence spread throughout the Souls series.

But when you think of your favourite hefty sword-wielding himbo, I'm sure Guts isn't the first to spring to mind. Before we get into the debate of who wore it better, let's talk about Berserk's creator.

The most distinct and memorable aspect of Berserk is the apparent pleasure the series takes with relishing visceral imagery which is brought to life by Kentaro Miura. Berserk's first volume was released in 1990 when Miura was twenty-two years old. At this point in his life, Miura was already experienced within the industry after having written his first manga at the age of ten and eventually self-publishing in 1982.

With his experience and indisputable style, Miura's abhorrent rendition of the numerous satanic beasts and mythological creatures that populate the bloodthirsty world of Berserk, are both horrifying and captivating. The series manages to succeed in simultaneously being horrendously violent and strikingly beautiful. This parallel is prominent throughout the story and feeds the reader/viewer with a morbid curiosity.

The first and most obvious juxtaposition can be found in Guts' and Griffith's appearance. If you put Berserk in front of a newbie, they would most likely assume that the androgynous Griffith was the series’ main hero.

With his petite frame, feminine features, and charismatic charm, he certainly looks the part of a typical anime protagonist. Especially when set side by side with Guts who's hulking physique, stoic disposition, and hardened exterior is a stark contrast to the Hawk of Light. But scratch the surface and you'd find something entirely different.

Once you pull back the curtain and look beyond his angelic façade, you'd uncover Griffith's selfish, almost sociopathic personality which is accompanied with an unyielding ambition to stop at nothing until he achieves his dream. In contrast, Guts’ intimidating appearance and seemingly aloof attitude are a front concealing a lonely and tormented individual.

Shrouded by death, Guts was born from the corpse of his executed mother and eventually discovered by a group of mercenaries, who find the infant beneath a hanging tree covered in blood and entrails. The baby is presumed to be dead until he begins to cry, to which prostitute Shisu immediately rushes to comfort the child and is permitted to keep the newborn by leader Gambino. The baby is given the name Guts after the gory manner in which he was found. However, many members of the group are unsettled by Guts’ arrival and consider it a bad omen.

Shisu had been deemed mad following her miscarriage and quickly became attached to Guts as a result. The pair seemed destined to meet but their happiness is tragically short-lived as three years later, Guts’ adoptive mother contracts the plague and dies while Guts watches over her. Unfortunately Shisu’s death only strengthens rumors about Guts’ reputation as a source of bad luck.

Guts promptly begins practicing swordsmanship and joins Gambino on the battlefield in an effort to gain approval. However, one night while Guts is sleeping in his tent, fellow sellsword Donovan, sneaks in and forces himself on the young boy. Guts later lures his abuser away and forces his sword down Donovan’s throat, killing him. No longer feeling safe, Guts begins to sleep clutching his sword.

Guts’ relationship with Gambino rapidly deteriorates following Shisu’s death. Gambino resents Guts for the subsequent loss of his leg and fixates on the misfortune that seems to have followed the boy. Gambino soon begins to verbally and physically abuse Guts, and consequently makes an attempt on Guts’ life. It’s in this moment that Gambino confesses that he had sold Guts to Donovan for the night.

Horrified by this revelation, Guts is forced to kill his paternal figure in an act of self-defence and is hunted down by Gambino's men. After narrowly escaping with his life and defending himself against a pack of wolves, Guts eventually falls unconscious. The cycle begins again as he is discovered and enlisted by a separate mercenary group where he becomes a child soldier.

After surviving battlefield to battlefield, Guts eventually crosses paths with the Band of the Hawk. Impressed by his skills, leader Griffith, openly expresses that he is eager for Guts to join the Band of the Hawk. Guts agrees to this proposal but only if Griffith defeats him in a duel. Much to Guts’ disgust, he is defeated and begrudgingly joins the new group of mercenaries. But soon finds himself at home among his companions within the Band of the Hawk and is swiftly promoted to Captain of the Raiders.

It is clear that Guts is conflicted in the first arc of the story. After years of coping with isolation and abuse, he is torn between carving his own path or sticking with the Band of the Hawk. It's safe to say that whether you read the manga or watch the anime, the series doesn't sugar-coat the trauma Guts is forced to endure. But despite everything, Guts still carries on and it’s his mental fortitude that makes him such a sympathetic character.

But after forming strong friendships and concealing an unrequited love, it's Guts' decision to leave the Band of the Hawk and break free of Griffith's control that ultimately leads to The Band of the Hawk's downfall.

Amidst this complicated bromance you have Casca. A seasoned warrior who commands the respect of The Band of the Hawk and is Griffiths right hand – that is until Guts steals the spotlight. This setup may sound like a clichéd love triangle but Casca plays a crucial role in Berserk. Without her, Guts would've likely given up following the aftermath of the eclipse. She is the driving force in the story, feeding Guts' lust for revenge.

If you're considering checking out Berserk, I can highly recommend the manga as the best way to consume the series, as you are able to see Miura hone his craft over the years and create some truly remarkable panels. Another benefit is that with over 300 chapters, you'll have more than enough content to keep you occupied. But if that's not your style you have a few options to choose from.

The Golden Age Arc Film Trilogy concisely summaries the first narrative arc, if you want to get up to speed quickly. The larger budget in the subsequent movies allows for less 3D animation and more stunning hand-drawn sequences. However, if you have the time and patience for it, the 1997 adaptation spares no details and has an alluring nostalgic 90's aesthetic, if you can forgive it being a little rough around the edges.

Whichever version you decide to pick if you still can't get enough, I would advise saving the 2016 Berserk anime for last. Not only because it takes place after the first arc and follows the aftermath of the eclipse, but fans of the series have openly criticised this version's cheap animation style that fails to do justice to Miura’s concepts.

As previously mentioned, Berserk is unashamed in its cruelty and some might say the series renowned violence is needlessly excessive. Although this may seem off-putting, Berserk also has it's softer moments. It's in these more subdued scenes that you're drawn deeper into the fascinating narrative.

If asked how best to describe the series, I would say that it's the love child of Japanese horror artist, Junji Ito and fantasy author, George R. R. Martin. The medieval-fantasy setting allows for breath-taking architecture and scenery which often resembles Salvador Dali's surrealist paintings, but inhabited with monsters from Hieronymus Bosch's famous works such as The Harrowing of Hell. It's this contrast that makes Berserk so bewitching, in the thick of all the violence, gore, and carnage, you have a tragic story bursting with drama, rivalry, betrayal, lost love, and most importantly, revenge.

But if The Last of Us Part 2 taught us anything about seeking revenge, it is that it comes at a high price. However, the story remains largely unfinished with the current hiatus and recent chapter having been released as far back as 2019, it's uncertain when we'll see how this revenge story will play out. Nevertheless much like the A Song of Fire and Ice series, having no ending has its positives...

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robininthelabyrinth · 4 years

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If you're still doing prompts: Nie MingJue has a kid. IDK how this affects anything else, but the kid loves A-Yuan whenever they meet while Xichen and HuiSang spoil them relentlessly.

Lan Xichen admired the world for its diversity: how different lands had different accents, different foods, different melodies, different customs, different superstitions – the differences added color to the world and made it more interesting. After all, without differences, how would anyone ever know that the sweet smoothness of Gusu’s Emperor’s Smile paired beautifully with the spicy food prepared in Yunmeng, or that the nasal intonations of Lanling were pleasantly charming when put against his favorite childhood songs?

Still, there were some cultural idiosyncrasies that, admittedly, he thought had less merit than others.

Qinghe’s notorious reluctance to share personal information, for instance.

It was one thing when it was not knowing exactly how old a person was, or what their given name was, or things like that – it was another thing to find out, well…

“Did you know about this?” Lan Xichen asked Jin Guangyao in an undertone, even though the dumbstruck expression didn’t give him much hope. “You were his deputy, once…”

“You’re his childhood friend,” Jin Guangyao pointed out. “And you didn’t know.”

“Well, yes, but that’s outside the sect, whereas you were a guest disciple…never mind. It’s not important.”

“Not important?”

“It isn’t.” Lan Xichen straightened and moved forward, waving to get Nie Mingjue’s attention from where he was yelling at Nie Huaisang, much to the evidence pleasure of the baby in his arms. “Da-ge, your child is beautiful.”

“Is she?” Nie Mingjue asked, glancing down at the infant with a frown. “How can you tell, under all those layers? All babies look the same to me.”

Lan Xichen found himself smiling in amusement. It was good to know that Nie Mingjue hadn’t changed in personality, even if – even if –

“I must admit I hadn’t known that you were expecting a child,” he blurted out. “Or that you, uh…”

“Were capable of carrying one?” Nie Huaisang asked innocently – a bit too innocently, the brat; he’d obviously known that his elder brother was, physiologically speaking, an elder sister.

It wasn’t as if Lan Xichen wasn’t aware that Qinghe had a tradition of recognizing what they called ‘misaligned reincarnations’, a male soul accidentally reincarnating in a woman’s body or a woman in a man’s or even something else altogether; it was only that he’d thought he would have noticed it.

Apparently not, given the casual way his sworn brother had been feeding the child earlier.

“Er-ge is right: she really is quite beautiful,” Jin Guangyao said, coming close with a smile. His fingers reached for her, then paused. “Take it from one that knows, da-ge; I’ve seen plenty of babies before – she has very auspicious features.”

Nie Mingjue snorted. “I’d rather she had auspicious meridians, but it’s too early to tell…why do you keep twitching like that? Do you want to hold her or something? Just take her already.”

Jin Guangyao found himself with a baby in his arms and a surprised expression, albeit one that quickly faded into a smile that seemed a bit more sincere than the previous one. Lan Xichen wished his sworn brother wouldn’t feel the need to put up a façade with everyone. “Oh! She’s very light…how old is she?”

“Old enough,” Nie Mingjue said with a shrug, and there was that Qinghe reticence again. ‘Old enough’ probably meant she’d had her first month birthday. “We’re just calling her Baobei until we think of a name.”

Of course they hadn’t thought of a name. The Nie were hopeless. Nie Mingjue in specific; Nie Huaisang probably had lists of names.

“Does she…” Jin Guangyao started to ask, then stopped. At Nie Mingjue’s irritated expression he coughed. “You’ll have to forgive my unfamiliarity with how it works under the circumstances – is she surnamed Nie? Or do you use her father’s…?”

Nie Huaisang’s face spasmed in something that vaguely resembled rage for the half-second it took for him to hide it behind a fan, which Lan Xichen didn’t understand and which made Jin Guangyao frown.

“No father,” Nie Mingjue said. “She’s surnamed Nie, nothing else.”

“Not as if we’ve left much of the other side alive,” Nie Huaisang mumbled, and – oh. That’s why he was angry.

That was a very good reason to be angry.

Jin Guangyao abruptly turned as white as a sheet, which made Nie Mingjue reach over and catch him by the shoulders with a frown, saying, “Meng Yao, if you drop my infant child, I will drop you off the walls. Do you know how much effort it takes to get one of these? Quite literally a pain in the ass.”

Lan Xichen had been about to say something – he didn’t know what, but something necessary to vent the emotions in his heart – and it was all abruptly cut off by the sudden swell of amusement; Nie Mingjue’s sense of humor had always been like that, a perfect deadpan that you only belatedly realized was deliberately making fun.

“Let me hold her,” he said instead, and accepted the small child into his arms. She mostly looked annoyed with all the jostling, the tiny little scowl already demonstrating her Nie heritage. He hoped for her sake that all her features were the same. “Da-ge, you really don’t leave any room for the rest of us to compete with you, do you? You took first place in Phoenix Mountain even though you must have already had this little one in tow.”

“Don’t think too highly of me,” Nie Mingjue said. “I hadn’t even noticed at that point, though it was late enough that I probably should have...anyway, I didn’t take first. They only said that because they didn’t want to give it to the Jiang sect.”

“You were about equal with a third each,” Jin Guangyao said. He was still too pale, still upset; Lan Xichen didn’t blame him. Especially since it had been his plan that had…still, it was evident Nie Mingjue had no interest in discussing it, and it was better to follow his lead.

“About equal is still second place. There weren’t any rules against using demonic cultivation.”

“There will be now,” Jin Guangyao said. “Although I suppose it’s unnecessary, with Wei Wuxian now holed up in Yiling.”

Nie Huaisang hummed from behind his fan. “Didn’t Lan-er-gongzi go to Yiling recently?” he asked, almost purposefully casual. “What did he think of it?”

Lan Xichen blinked. Nie Huaisang was getting at something, but he didn’t know what – the Nie sect hadn’t made any statements about what had happened with Wei Wuxian in the immediate aftermath, something rather uncharacteristic of them. He supposed, looking down at the babe in his arms and calculating time since Nie Mingjue’s capture at Yangquan, he now knew why: they had been preoccupied.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “He didn’t say much, though I think he was pleased to see that Wei-gongzi was doing well.”

“He didn’t encounter any issues?”

“Issues? No. What sort of issues?”

“Oh, I don’t know. We all know how righteous Hanguang-jun is. If there was something fishy going on, he would have felt the need to act, wouldn’t he?”

Nie Mingjue rolled his eyes, clearly understanding better than they did what Nie Huaisang was getting at. “You just want to get more baby presents.”

“Baobei deserves all the presents,” Nie Huaisang agreed peaceably. “But she also deserves peace of mind, don’t you think?”

“It’s never too early to think about the future, da-ge,” Jin Guangyao agreed. “If you leave relatives outside, you never know when they might come to make trouble.”

Lan Xichen’s heart gave a pang: Jin Guangyao had been one of those relatives from the outside once, and he knew it still pained him even though he was now safely recognized as his father’s son.

“We can go with you, assuming you want her to meet them,” he offered. He wasn’t entirely sure whether Nie Huaisang and Jin Guangyao were suggesting meeting the remaining Wen sect members or implying that Nie Mingjue should simply put the remaining Wens to death to avoid having to deal with any problems, but he figured it was better to simply pretend they meant the nicer option. “It’s bad luck not to honor relatives, if there are ones that you can tolerate. Anyway, I don’t believe even the Yiling Patriarch could stand up against all of us – or that Wei-gongzi would, if we came with a child to meet her relatives.”

“I’ll think about it,” Nie Mingjue allowed. “If they really are all old people and children, non-participants, it wouldn’t be a problem to recognize them to some extent. It’s better to have more cousins rather than less, after all.”

Lan Xichen recalled a brief reference his brother had made to a child he’d encountered at Yiling – how close it had been with Wei Wuxian, who was infamously rabid in the defense of those he considered family no matter what official pretense had to be put about between him and the Jiang sect.

“I think,” he said, “that that’s an excellent idea.”

#mdzs #nie mingjue #jin guangyao #meng yao #lan xichen #nie huaisang #trans!NMJ #tw: implied rape #my fic #my fics #padawan-lightningstarborne #baby da-ge #baby dage

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cassiecasyl · 3 years

Text

nibble, nibble, little spider

By @cassiecasyl for @an-odd-idea

Rating: Teen and Up Relationships: Peter & Morgan, Peter & Tony Characters: Peter Parker, Morgan Stark, Tony Stark, a witch Summary: Peter and Morgan are lost in a forest, alone and hungry when they stumble upon a house made of bread and candy. It couldn’t harm to take a bite, could it? Well, yes, it very much could.

Hunger weaved through the trees, riding on the wind directly into Peter’s lungs, causing the boy to cough. It was a screaming and scratching complaint of displacement. His stomach rumbled in answer to its sneaking sibling. Peter stumbled from the effects of their argument, catching himself against a trunk. The bark tickled his senses, the rough surface scratching at his skin. He recoiled from the sensation. The quick motion made him sway, and he fell back against the very thing he tried to avoid. He didn’t know what was wrong. He just felt so—

“Peter?” Morgan asked, watching him with big, brown eyes. They were the perfect mix of Tony’s eye color and Pepper’s concerned expression stabbing right into him. He could see the same pain reflected back at him. Peter closed his eyes.

“I’m fine,” he assured her.

She moved closer and leaned against his leg, tucking at his shirt. His spidey senses barely objected, uselessly hiding behind a headache. Peter looked down at his adoptive sister. Her intensive gaze looked right through his lies in the same way her father always did. They were heartbreakingly similar.

“Can you try your phone again?” she asked, searching for hope. Peter fumbled it out of his pocket with shaking fingers and blinked against the artificial light. His heart sank into the void the lack of bars at the top of the screen signaled. He sighed. “Still no signal.” Morgan deflated slightly.

Peter tried to swipe over to the GPS settings, to maybe get some information this way, but right as he did the screen froze. He grunted in frustration, shaking the device lightly. His head pounded as if obnoxiously cheering the phone on. Peter remembered the time he had landed near a stadium during one of his sensitive episodes, leading him right into a sensory overload then and there. -20/10, would not recommend. He’d needed two days in the soundproof tower to recover from that before even trying to go into louder environments again.

Peter winced as the screen suddenly flashed bright with an app loading screen before turning completely black. Great. Any buttons proved useless. “Looks like it’s dead,” he confessed to Morgan. She nodded bravely, clearly holding back tears, little erosions in Peter’s heart.

Peter slid down the trunk, shuddering at the sensation, until he was on eye level with her. He stretched out his arm, nudging Morgan closer and into his embrace. She buried her face in the nook of his neck as she cried. “It’s gonna be alright,” Peter promised, rocking her gently, “Tony will find us, you’ll see.”

“Dad can fix everything,” she mumbled into the hug and Peter chuckled.

“That’s right! So don’t give up hope, Mo.”

They stayed in the relative silence the forest provided for a while. Peter stared up into the leaf-obstructed sky, the gears in his head scraping by just barely. The leaves whisper-sung false promises, inviting him to climb up towards the first stars visible in the darkening sky. He entertained the thought of climbing up to see where the damn woods ended, but the bark’s texture made him want to crawl out of his own skin. His stomach acted up again, not a fan of possible altitude, and his headache became nauseating in a warning. He hated it when his body conspired against him. But, he also couldn’t just leave Morgan alone on the ground. Especially not with night approaching.

“I’m hungry,” whispered Morgan.

“I know, Mo,” Peter answered and rubbed her back soothingly. There was nothing he could do. If only he knew enough about flora to know what was safe to eat. Though they didn’t have the option to wash whatever they found, adding further danger. “I’m too.”

The nagging feeling only grew as they sat there, calling and pulling them away, as it caught them with an invisible string. It was a weird by-taste of hunger, one Peter had never experienced before. If they were at home - where he knew where to find food - the pull would make sense, but here, in the middle of nowhere, it puzzled him. He couldn’t even remember how they got here. All there was, was the forest and hunger, slowly taking over them. His spider sense buzzed loudly, sounding slightly like a radio without a proper signal. He wondered dully whether ghosts could speak through it.

Suddenly, Morgan sat up, tearing Peter from his dazed thoughts. “I know what we have to do!” she exclaimed, standing up. “We can only follow the path we know,” she said and took off. Peter scrambled to his feet.

“Wait, Mo,” he called out, “What do you mean?” The girl didn’t answer.

The hunger’s call became louder as they walked. Peter could almost hear it now, the ringing in his ears resembling more and more a feast. He meant to smell chocolate and his stomach grumbled as if to ask how much longer? Huh, he realized, Morgan must feel it too.

Old leaves crackled underneath their feet, a crystal clear signal of where they were. A deer looked up a few trees over, mustering them before fleeing, its flock following. But Morgan paid it no mind as she walked towards her goal with Peter on her heels.

The boy couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. It felt like a trap almost, leaving them no choice but to fall for it to survive. His dizzy mind screamed for food, growing more excited the more signs of it hit Peter’s senses.

They came to a brook and Peter signaled for Mo to stop. He leaned down to drink, hoping the water would quill some of the overwhelming hunger he felt. It was better than nothing. Underneath the pull, his stomach ached, begging, as if what had been there before was only a phantom, an illusion rather than the real thing. Peter blinked.

A bird landed on the other side of the stream, picking at something on the ground. The spider looked up, meeting the animal’s eyes just for a moment, before it rustled its feathers and took off, carrying a big breadcrumb in its beak. Something was definitely wrong.

Something about this all rang a bell, but he couldn’t find it. It rang and rang, a warning of impending nightfall, so annoying Peter wished he could just turn the sound off. It didn’t help in the slightest with remembering. An old story, he mused. A fairy tale, maybe?

“Morgan?” he called, but she didn’t answer. He spun around, almost hitting a tree as he swayed in response. He felt sick and weak, and the moss on the ground looked so invitingly soft. He briefly closed his eyes in an attempt to regain focus. Morgan. Where was Morgan? She couldn’t be gone. Mr. Stark would kill him. His mind conjured up her image, covered in blood, gnaw marks on breaking her tender skin, half-rotten. His stomach grumbled, sending everything it had upwards, a meek army marching to attack his mind. Not one soldier passed the cavity of his mouth.

“Morgan?” he called again after swallowing, panic inviting nausea to dance.

“Peter, look!” the girl's voice finally sounded to the right of him. Peter breathed and steadied himself with the aid of a tree. Nodding a short thanks to his involuntary crutch, he stepped into the bushes to find his little sister.

Now that he was back on the path, his muscles didn’t protest as much anymore. A strange peace joined the hunger-inducing air, washing over him and taking his care. Like gravity, he was pulled towards a place in the middle of the woods, and tired as Peter was, he let himself fall right into it.

The woods smelled like freshly baked bread, like those obnoxiously sweet candies Morgan loved, like the brownies Happy baked one time, the best goddamn brownies he had ever eaten, like the hot chocolate he would drink with May on late nights when they would just talk and catch up with each other or simply enjoy each other’s company.

Peter was positively drooling, sludging out into the little opening. A house stood there, idyllic in the middle of the forest, glowing with magic, promising every meal Peter had ever had and more. Its walls were covered with a little flour like a bread’s crust, and Peter could see the softness inside from where something had bitten into it. The windows were adorned with sugar, whipped cream, and colorfully sprinkled candies. The roof was the color of Minecraft’s dark oak, sturdy and soft. Peter reached up and broke off a piece before he could think. Morgan grinned at him, stuffing her mouth with candy. He tiredly smiled at her, taking in her happiness, gleaming louder than the sun. It was all washed away as the brownie roof touched his tongue. It was just the right temperature and consistency, and it filled his mouth with the taste of chocolate without being overly sticky. It was heavenly, it was every peaceful late night conversation and every birthday party combined. This was what ambrosia must taste like.

His mind stopped screaming, and he was wholly content in his body with only one bite. The overwhelming hunger was suddenly satisfied, yet his stomach still rumbled. He didn’t feel it. Peter looked at the piece of heaven in his hand, smiling brightly in childish wonder. He wanted more. So, he devoured it and took another piece from the house.

Dully, shushed by peace, a noise drummed on in the back of his head. It was hidden behind a labyrinth, closed off by heavy prison doors. It didn’t matter. Yet, why was it loud enough to bug him? Why couldn’t it just shut up? He rolled his eyes and reached out towards the soft bread wall.

But, before his fingers touched the food, he stopped. This was wrong. He was stealing, wasn’t he? The buzzing grew louder. A warning. It was his spider senses, Peter then realized. They were in danger. He turned towards Morgan, panic slowly overriding the happiness, weaseling past every magic firewall. He opened his mouth to call out to her. They needed to go, to get away from here.

“Knusper, Knusper, Knäuschen, wer knuspert an meinem Häuschen?” a high, scratchy voice sang behind them. Peter froze in horror. “Or should I say ‘nibble, nibble, little mouse, who’s nibbling at my house’? Such a peculiar translation…”

~~~

A warning was drumming on his head, shaking him until he blinked his eyes open against the stabbing light. It roasted him and hung him up to cool down. Peter groaned. A stagger of noise opened his skull, and he flinched. Only after a moment did he recognize words, let alone the voice.

“Let him out!” Morgan demanded with as much rage as the five-year-old could muster. Which was a lot, Peter knew from experience. She was an angry embodiment of human wrath, her narrow eyes staring down the witch towering above her. Morgan did not back down.

“I can’t do that, Sweety. It’s for your own good,” the witch talked down to her with a voice like sugary wood. A shudder ran through Peter as he remembered the rough bark under his hands outside. He clenched his teeth, waiting for an onslaught of pain from somewhere as he slowly sat up.

“He’s my brother,” Morgan argued, “let him out!” Her eyes turned the sunlight into weapons. The witch, a shadow, did not yet realize the danger she was subjected herself to, as self-assured as she was.

“He is corrupted,” the witch judged, “You, on the other hand, are still young, little lady.”

Morgan blinked up at her. “Do you know who my dad is? He’s Iron Man. He’s a hero. And he’s gonna come and rescue us,” she threatened.

“Oh, I’m counting on it.” Her smile sent little spiders crawling down Peter’s back. They examed the walls of his cage for any way of escape, the tiniest crack, but ultimately, they gave up and settled in the farthest corner. She mustered Peter with predatory eyes, pressing her lips together in disappointment. “It’s really a shame you’re all muscle and bone. It’ll take longer to get you tender enough for the grand meal.”

Peter’s wide eyes met Morgan’s deer-ey ones as they processed the words. “You don’t wanna fight Iron Man,” the girl threatened again.

The witch sighed. “This is gonna be harder than I expected. He’s really grown his vines around you, didn’t he?”

“What’s your plan here?” Peter asked. “Kidnapping children, provoking Iron Man while you’re at it, and now what? Waiting for your trial?”

The witch laughed. “Stark’s a warmonger, but I am not afraid of him.” She quenched any protest from the kids with her next words: “He’s only made himself believe that he’s better now, that he somehow redeemed himself. It’s a mask. We’ll see how good the great Tony Stark really is soon enough.”

She turned to her sugar windows as a crow landed on the windowsill, picking up some bread crumbs that had fallen from the damaged wall. Her yellow teeth showed in her evil smile, and Peter suddenly felt very self-conscious about the fact that he hadn’t brushed his teeth since the day before. Granted he hadn’t lost more time unconscious in a crazy fairytale witch’s cage.

“Frolick, my children, he is on his way,” she cheered, spinning around in a dance towards the stove in the corner. “We will have a grant meal to greet the powerful.” Peter strained his ears in hopes of hearing the familiar sound of repulsors. He wanted to scream out, get out himself so Tony wouldn’t have to walk into this weird trap. He wasn’t even sure what the witch’s plan really was.

The witch grabbed Morgan’s hand and pulled her with her. The girl struggled, hitting and scratching, grounding her feet into the ground as much as she could. She looked back at Peter in pure fear, mouthing a word. Peter frowned at her.

“A wild one, are we?” The witch addressed Morgan, leaning down to her level. The girl spat at her. “Now, this is really not a way for a lady to behave,” the witch chastised, sighing. “Maybe you’re further gone than I thought. I really had faith… Maybe, we will have you for dessert.”

Finally, Morgan tore her hand free. She stepped back, suppressing a shiver. “You’re joking like a pirate,” she said, emphasizing the last word and waving one hand at Peter behind her back. Peter frowned, and then observed the cell door he was sitting in front of. Half pin barrel hinges. With the right kind of leverage, he could open them no problem. They had recently watched the first Pirates of the Caribbean movie, much to Happy’s dismay, but Peter couldn’t be prouder of Morgan at that moment.

He examined his cell as inconspicuously as he could. There was a blank in the corner, probably meant as a sort of bed, with stains Peter rather wouldn’t know about. He grabbed and pulled at it, and, with a crank, it broke free. Unfortunately, it also brought attention to him.

“What are you doing?” With two big steps, she stood next to him behind the bars. Peter kept still, ignoring her to the best of his abilities. Morgan followed her and then clung to her hand demandingly. It did nothing but annoy the hag more. “I asked you a question, boy. What are you doing?” She spat out every word, spelling it out for him.

Peter shrugged and finally looked up at her. “I just thought, if you plan on keeping me here, I might as well redecorate.” Morgan snorted and quickly ducked to avoid the veiny hand flying her way.

“Do you think this is funny? Tony Stark waged war and I’m going to give him what he’s earned and you think this is all a joke?” Peter shook his head, slightly retreating. “And you, little lady, are truly your father’s daughter, aren’t you? I thought there was hope for you, other than for the boy who got drawn into the family that he doesn’t share blood with, but it seems it’s already too late.”

She grabbed Morgan in retaliation, holding her even tighter than before. The girl screamed out in surprise and pain before going back to fighting. Suddenly, a rope snaked into the air and approached them curiously. It gently wrapped around Morgan, keeping her in place. The tears on his sister’s face might as well have been acid poured over Peter’s head.

The witch sighed. “I should’ve done this earlier.” She turned to Peter then. “And now to you…”

“Let her go,” Peter demanded. “You can do whatever you want with me, just, please, let her go.”

“The time of bargaining has long passed, boy.” She looked back at the giant pot on the stove. “It’s time to get to work.” The door creaked as it opened, as ominously warning and high-pitched as his spidey sense. He stumbled backward, more crawling than walking, until the wall stopped him. It was giving into his touch, and it took all in Peter to not recoil from the touch that felt a little too much like mold.

The rope peered over the witch’s shoulder, mustering its prey. Just as she reached out to grab his hand, Peter opened his mouth in protest and let the first words that came to his mind tumble out. “Do you know the Muffin Man?”

The witch stopped mid-motion. “The Muffin Man?” she asked with raised eyebrows, entirely bamboozled.

“Yeah, the Muffin Man,” Peter repeated, allowing himself to breathe a little, “You know, the one who lives on Drury Lane?” The hag’s eyes narrowed at those words and Peter suppressed a flinch. Fuck.

“This is another of your jokes, isn’t it?” Before he could answer, the rope shot forward, rolling tightly around him, leaving no place for air. Soon enough, he joined Morgan on the floor, just as Peter’s ears picked up a familiar, wheezing sound.

“I’m sorry,” Morgan whispered.

Peter shrugged to the best of his abilities. “It was worth a try.”

~~~

A knock on the door disrupted the sharp, unruly tension in the room. Peter tried to breathe, hoping, knowing it to be Tony. He heard the telltale sound of the repulsor de-powering and the suit landing. Yet, fear still continued its marathon through his veins.

The witch sighed. “It’s a real shame,” she mumbled, “I will have to cook you with magic. Things always taste better if you let them cook naturally, but he’s not giving me much of a choice, is he?” A shudder ran through the siblings’ bodies.

“You could also just not cook us. Just a suggestion, you know,” Peter spoke up, earning a slap. Heavy air climbed onto his tongue, rolling up and falling asleep like a cat. He opened his mouth again, but nothing came out except for a quiet grunt. The witch was clearly amused by his attempts to speak. Without another word, she turned around and opened the door just wide enough to slip out.

“Hello, Forest Lady,” Tony greeted the witch, “I’m searching for two kids. Have you seen—”

“Well, if it isn’t the great Tony Stark.” Peter could hear the malicious grin in her voice. “The fabled merchant of death.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Tony dismissed her, “Listen, there are two kids missing, it’d be a great help if you could just tell me— Wait a minute, what did you just call me?”

“You are who they call the merchant of death, are you not?”

Tony was stunned into silence. Peter strained to hear his quickening heartbeat, wanting to cry out, Tony, we’re here, don’t listen to her!, but the airy cat on his tongue wouldn’t budge. Everybody knows that one doesn’t wake a cat, even if they trap you, and the spell took it to another level. It didn’t stop him from trying, however. The rope hit his thigh, annoyed by his constant movement.

“That’s what they used to say, yeah,” Tony now admitted, “now they call me ‘Earth’s best defender.’” His cocky voice could not hide the anxiety in his veins, not to Peter.

“Still, you’re wrapped in armor and weapons,” the witch pointed out.

“Look, it’s not my job to justify myself to random women I encountered in the woods, which is not something that happens a lot, I must say. Actually, I think this is the first time. I’ve got better things to do at the moment. I’m looking for two kids, a girl of five years and a boy of 16. Have you seen them?”

“Tony Stark, always so ready to fight,” the witch said, completely disregarding his recent words, “Take off that armor and I might tell you.”

“So you know where they are,” he stated. Peter closed his eyes, letting the familiar clank of the Iron Man suit lull him in, but instead, it just cut into his skin. They were so close. So close to being found, so close to being rescued.

“I was just preparing dinner. Why don’t you just sit down and stay? It’ll only take a few minutes.” The witch’s steps were silent on the grass. Tony’s vibrated through the ground, which meant he was still in his suit.

“Now wait just a moment here, lady. You know where my kids are. Why don’t you tell me?”

“You’re a warmonger, Tony Stark. Why would you ever think I’d leave kids in your care?” Peter laughed out loud in irony, but it was muffled by winding fur catching in his fur. Coughing made it only worse, so he took a deep and slow breath to take back control.

Tony sighed. Iron Man opened his suit, and it cracked and screeched slightly, and Peter was reminded of the joint he had been meant to oil. His heart sank. “There, I’m out of the suit. Now, will you tell me where my kids are?”

After a moment of silence, the witch asked: “Did you ever count?”

“Count what?”

“How many children were killed with your weapons.” Peter sucked in a breath in shock.

“Roughly 2.47 million people were killed by Stark missiles. Approximately 9.4% were kids. Probably more. It’s hard to tell. Plus, about 50 billion dollars damage to property—”

“Money,” the witch spat out, “Of course you care about the money more.”

“It’s just easier to estimate that number,” Tony tried to defend himself, but the witch wouldn’t hear it.

“All that money will never buy back your soul,” she judged. With that, she walked back to the door, leaving Tony to stand outside. Peter stared at her through tears as she came inside. He almost missed the slight hand wave she pointed at the door, presumably to prevent Tony from following her.

He changed, you know, he wanted to tell her, but still found his tongue pinned down. He’s a better man now. He’s not responsible for his father’s sins and being dragged into that business.

The witch glared at him. “Don’t fool yourself, boy. Stark has blood on his hands. People like that don’t change.” Peter blinked up at her in surprise.

You can hear me.

The witch groaned and rolled her eyes. “You’re too loud,” she decided and grabbed him by the living rope enwrapping him. Peter tried to kick her, but it was more a battle with the snake of a rope than with the witch. She laid him down next to the stove. The steam from the pot wandered down to caress his cheeks, whispering false welcomes into his over-heating ears. He was sweating, staring into the fire that burned high in the fireplace opposite the kitchen. The taunting flames danced, showing off their relation to hell.

“Stark Tower is falling down, falling down, falling down. Stark Tower is falling down, my fair lady,” the witch sang quietly as she prepared the last few things. Peter couldn’t tell whether the shiver he felt was from the sweat cooling his skin or from fear.

Finally, the rope loosened. He stretched his limbs while moving as little as he could. Then, just as the witch came to pick him up, Peter sprang up. The hag waved her hands at him while she mustered him with raised eyebrows. As if he wasn’t intimidating her one bit. Peter channeled his hate into his stare and shot forwards, grabbing her hands to prevent her from casting her magic. All the while, he tried to keep Morgan out of the witch’s view.

The witch pulled him back, making Peter stumble. He caught himself and kicked at her feet. His feet connected with something soft and he inwardly cheered. Though, somehow, the witch fell forward right towards him. Peter panicked. He did not want an old witch on top of him, not ever. He could already imagine the jokes Tony would make and ew. Stepping back, he evaded her falling body barely.

Only then did he realize that he had let go. Shit, he thought, somehow dodging a spell. It whirled in the air next to him, wooing before splatting against the wall. The cat on his tongue moved a little and Peter almost hoped it had woken up.

He launched at her again, struggling to grab her hands. Something hard bumped into his back, sending pain up his spine. Peter tried to push forward with the stove as his leverage, but the witch was heavier than expected. She didn’t budge, instead continued to struggle against the hold he had on her hands.

Somehow, in the whirl of their fight, Peter’s elbow connected with something hot. He wailed and jumped as it burned him, pressing it protectively against his body. But the witch didn’t follow him. Peter watched as she stumbled back with burns everywhere on her body. In a disoriented attempt to get away from the pot of steaming water Peter had knocked over, she staggered and bumped against the fireplace.

The witch fell into the flames with an ear-piercing scream and was never heard of again. Peter was shaking, staring at her, heavily breathing even as the air cat left him. Morgan came up next to him, hugging his legs.

Peter barely registered as the door opened. In a frown, he remembered the knocks and blasts he had heard during the battle but had ignored. He was there, frozen, forever entranced in the flames’ deadly dance.

“Daddy!” Morgan screamed and left his side. Peter flinched at the noise.

Despite the warmth, Peter knew that hell was freezing. It was frightening and un-moving and icy and he had just killed a person. He had ended someone’s life. Watched as they burned without any attempt to help them. I’m a terrible person, he thought. His pledge or morality to never kill was broken forever.

Warm arms wrapped around him, trying to melt the ice that had claimed him, and Peter broke. “I—I killed her. Oh my god, I killed her. I killed someone. I didn’t mean to. Tony, you have to believe me, I didn’t mean to.” He sobbed into a shoulder he didn’t deserve to.

“Shh,” Tony soothed, gently rocking them and moving his hand in circles over his back. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not okay. I killed someone, Tony. I’m a murderer.” Peter couldn’t tell whether he was snapping for air or snapping in self-directed anger and disgust. Yet, as much as he wanted to recoil, to flee, and just run, he couldn’t move. He was trapped here in comfort that he didn’t deserve.

“You did it in self-defense. She was gonna— God, I don’t even wanna think about what she was going to do to you.” Tony held him even closer if that was possible. Though, his right hand left him briefly to invite Morgan into the hug.

“You saved us,” Morgan said as if that was all that was needed to be said about the situation.

“Let’s go home,” Tony decided, and Peter melted into the touch as all the tension suddenly left his body and he was drowned in exhaustion. Home sounded like heaven, it sounded exactly like the place he wanted to be right now, and the place he may didn’t deserve to reside in anymore after what he’s done. But Tony pulled him along, guiding his kids home, never once faltering to assure himself that they were safe and that Peter was welcome.

#friendly neighborhood fic exchange #irondad #peter parker #morgan stark #my fic #big bro peter #fairytale retelling #hansel and gretel

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rexnihilis · 3 years

Text

Dream in one's waking hours

Special thanks to @psychomurderz! _________________________________________________________ They stood here to finally help their friend. They stood here and summed up how they would get it back.

"So the plan is this, idiots: We are looking for Nerd in places of maximum fucking for civilians, like the places where villains of A and S rank appear. As soon as we find him, you immediately drink the antidote and bring him down to the place where his ass will stick out. There is our first the task will be the final breakdown of his suit, doing this, first of all - Raccoon Eyes, and secondly - all the others, after which you throw the entire area around with Smoke-aerosol grenades, which will be given to you by Ponytail."

Bakugou was rude as always, but now they realized that his rude behavior was due to the fact that he was just as, if not more, worried about his best friend. A childhood friend and a friend at school.

"If Сlever Сlogs is not mistaken, then after he inhales, or will be covered with these substances, he will slowly but surely fall asleep. We will need to keep him in the gas as long as possible, and also not let him go far, in any dangerous place, where he will smash his fucking Nerd head after falling asleep. All Jackasses understand? This primarily concerns you Half n 'Half bastard, Round Face and Four Eyes!"

They were ready. They were ready to do anything to help Izuku. They were ready to fight even with All-for-One, even with Shigaraki. They were to challenge God himself in order to help those who are dear to them.

"Yes! "

"Great! Now: Let's bring this fucker back to UA!"

They are not prepared.

____

And if the burning of the skin and lungs can be tolerated, if you have already endured them eleven years before, when each time you were burned with nitroglycerin fire and forced to breathe with your own burnt flesh and dreams, then the heart never burned so much with pain before...

You left them so that they would be safe... So that HE would not hurt them, ruin their smiles and kill them...

But they came, knowing that death itself, destruction and madness itself is on your heels...

And Katsuki brought them... He brought them to stop you... To burn your skin and lungs again...

As always, as always, as always, as al...

Ways...

And this is when you sleep...

Sleepy.

And when you get sleepy… stuffs that’s not moving comes to live…

You start hearing things that aren’t there…

All this unnecessary input… it’s total sensory overload.

It’s like yours whole bode is glitching. And you know this feeling well…

But the worst of it all... Memories...

Memories of eleven years of pain, hatred, fear and rage... Eleven years of blockade of all feelings and emotions. Eleven years that always haunt you...

When you smell burning... When you see flashes of light ... When you hear screams of rage near you... When someone touches you... Always… And especially now...

How do you want to...

Sl...

Sleep…

____

"Finally! He falls asleep!"

You giving up. You realize they thought, about your worthlessness.

It was this moment that they all were waiting for. The moment when you finally fall asleep and they can return you to UA.

Don't let you save anyone else from yourself...

The moment when they can save you from yourself.

The moment they finally make you stop...

"Well, Nerd, tired!? I finally realized that you can't be the Carbon Copy of All Might?! Do you finally understand that you also need to be saved ?!"

Do you realize that he can stop you at any moment, Deku?

"And we won't let you go alone, Nerd, if only not without us! For we can only be heroes together!"

Now you will never be a hero while you are among theme, Useless Deku.

"Get out…"

____

He’s falls.

Falls after being defeated by his classmates.

Those who came to stop him. S

top the way they stopped him for eleven years.

Stopping him, knocking the shit out of him. And at that moment his mind…

Split.

Split under the influence of this feeling. Influenced by fatigue, stress and hunger. Under the influence of that sea of emotions and memories that has been accumulating in it for eleven years.

And when the dam that held it, all cracked...

His whole world was drowned in this black-red wave.

A wave that reversed reality and dream itself.

Reality has become ephemeral, ghostly and flowing away like fog through one's fingers.

But dream was in one's waking hours.

Dream was in reality.

And for many that dream was a nightmare.

____

Izuku was falling.

And the closest to him was Kirishima.

"I'll catch him!"

Kirishima ran to the place where Izuku would fall. He will run up and help him, as he helped Bakugou in this place before, and then they will return to UA and help each other, because the manliest thing a person can do is to accept the outstretched hand of hel…

Suddenly, Izuku flashed white-green lightning and a black-green whip and turned in the air and…

____

Nikuiwa. Quirk: Stone flesh.

It allows a human to turn his body into a hard stone. Usually it transforms hair and hands, but now it has transformed the entire body. There is strange information that he can further hardened himself, but it is unknown where this information came from.

The best option of confrontation is to deliver a heavy crushing blow to the head, which will cause a severe brain concussion and take him out of the fight.

How I dreamed of hurting you when you bullied me in Aldera.

____

... while Kirishima did not have time to become Unbreakable, he hit him in the head, throwing him 30 meters away.

"Shitty Hair!"/" Kirishima!"

Classmates hurried to him after such a heavy blow. He was unconscious, and his jaw was cut to the bone, which was all covered with cracks.

"Nerd, what are you doing… What the fuck is this?"

Bakugou said his last words with a sinking voice, because this was not what he expected to see.

Izuku's entire skin was black. No, not from the blood and dirt, or the powdery substance that was in the grenades.

Izuku's entire skin was covered with a Black Whip, like a second skin, which in some places rolled with unnatural bundles, like worms or, more likely, snakes. Several tips of the Black Whip behind Izuku's back were stretched out in the likeness of spider legs ending in sickles.

His face was also covered with a "second skin", but his hair was developing in the air, although it was black, in place of his usual green. From his mouth and the corners of his eyes flowed a black-red substance, somewhat resembling oil, mixed with blood, and in place of the tongue was another tentacle of a black whip. The teeth were not white, but were black, from the whip that transformed them into the sharpest fangs, transforming his mouth from an ordinary human, into a terrifying toothy mouth.

But the eyes were the worst. Since his sclera was not white. The iris was not green.

The eye was almost black, with only a dark crimson sclera.

And this horrified Bakugou.

But it didn't matter how much it scared Bakuguo.

Only one thing was important.

"Bird Brain, Frog Eater, Octoass - detain him! Soy Sauce Face, Snow White - take Shitty Hair to a safe place. The rest-regroup and collect grenades from Ponytail! We must save him!"

Direct and clear orders were what was needed to bring classmates out of their stupor and inspire them again. To bring them back to the only necessary thought.

"Let's save him!"

Try it, young heroes.

____

Kotei. Quirk: A glowing body.

It can dramatically create a large light flash for a while. From where, that is, there is information that his quirk depends on the stomach and he can shoot a laser from the stomach area.

The best option of confrontation is to quickly get close and hit the solar plexus, thereby stopping his breathing and limiting his use of the quirk.

Buruhiji. Quirk: Double elbow.

Two pairs of his arms grow from his elbows, but there is unconfirmed information that he is physically stronger than an ordinary person, that he is able to grow additional limbs and turn them into mouths, eyes and ears.

The best option of confrontation is to break his humerus or the shoulder itself, in order to disrupt the use of his quirk.

Kyuyami. Quirk: A Dark Ball.

It can create balls of unknown dark matter around itself. There is a strange information that this substance is the more in large volumes, the less around the world, as well as the fact that this substance is very strong, able to take the form of not only a ball, but also a reasonable one.

The only option for confrontation is to create a powerful light flash, then send she to a knockout.

The battle tactic is to force Kotei to create a flash in the direction of Kyuyami, after which he causes her weak injuries so that Buhuruji helps him. At the same time, neutralize Kyuyami, who did not move away from the light flash and returning to Kotei, break Buhuruji's hands and finally neutralize Kotei with a strong blow to the stomach.

You have always been waiting for me to take what you like for yourself, leaving me with nothing. Neither with my favorite things, nor with money, nor with a quiet time!

____

When Yaomomo was handing out grenades to classmates, she saw Izuku creating a smoke screen. Because of the smoke, Yaomomo could only guess what was happening, she saw a bright flash of light and a strangled scream from Aoyama, along with a powerful roar of a Dark Shadow.

"Aoyama - hold on!"

It was shouting Shouji, who seemed to be heading in his direction, after which she heard his second scream.

"Tokoyami, be careful!"

And then anyone could hear Tokoyami's scream of pain, and his flight out of the smoke screen, made not by his will, followed by the crunch of broken bones, Shouji's scream and the further scattering of the veil behind which he was hiding…

A battlefield in which the living embodiment of a nightmare hung in the air, just as it had been many months ago when she was here.

It was a living monument to the monster that they felt then and feel again now…

Only instead of her own death, she saw her broken and quirkless body. A nightmare that haunted anyone who had ever seen All for One.

And there, three bodies were already lying there, which were terribly reminiscent of this nightmare of hers.

Tokoyami, whose feathers were covered in blood, Aoyama, lying unconscious and Shouji, looking at his broken arms.

But that wasn't the only thing that caught her attention. It was Izuku, or rather his lips.

They moved so fast, but not enough that it might seem that they were constrained by a spasm, but those who knew him understood what it was. Izuku was muttering.

Momo, studied lip reading and watched Izuku for a long time, because he was the most difficult example in her environment, on whom it was possible to hone this skill. And what she read put her at a loss.

"Kyuyami, Buruhiji, Kotei, I hate, it hurts… What does this even mean?" she said aloud, not noticing it.

And only then, she saw a change in the reaction of Bakugou, who had just approached. It was as if he was shackled.

He was shackled by pure horror, directed, apparently, inside himself.

"Bakugou, you clearly understood something! Tell…"

"Shut up Ponytail, it's none of your business. Better take the Raccoon Eyes, the Frog and the Tail, then drag these three away."

Momo immediately realized that there was some secret hidden here, but decided that it could be stopped for later, when her wounded classmates would be safe.

"Half n' Half bastard, Round Face, Four Eyes – you are next! Get through to the nerd's head and make him stop raving."

The class was in an even greater stupor than before, but these three were always the closest to Izuku. They had always been his friends.

He had saved them, and they would save him.

You are becoming more aware of the despair of your situation, young heroes.

____

Juzai. Quirk: Temperature guns.

She is able to turn her left hand into a Flamethrower, and her right hand into a Frostthrower. From the same unconfirmed source, she is able to create spheres and rays from fire, and huge icebergs from frost. From there, it is also known that she uses fire and frost all over her body.

The best option of the confrontation is to send she to the knockout. It can be easily used against allies.

Hizume. Quirk: Bull.

She has the strength and speed of a bull. From an unknown source, she is faster, but less weak and maneuverable, as she should be. For some reason, she does not use her horns, preferring to use a kick instead, as if she has a jet accelerator in legs. From the same source, it is known that there are strange growths from the back of the lower leg, the removal of which will cause her hellish pain.

The best option for confrontation is either breaking the legs, or tearing these growths out.

Kanyubi. Quirk: Levitation Telekinesis. She is able to lift objects into the air with the help of a certain movement of the hands. From the same unknown source, to do this, she needs to touch objects with all five fingers, making it strangely weightless, and then again touch the fingers of one palm to the fingers of the other, in order to regain its weight again. There are pads on the fingers that are responsible for this.

The best option for confrontation is to damage the pads on her fingers.

You hated me especially much. You played with my feelings in order to take away the hope that appears again, at your whim. You set me up in front of the school and the teachers just to have fun, and how you loved to set Kacch... Katsuki on me. It's my turn to bring you pain.

The tactic is to first neutralize Hizume and Kanyubi, then give them hope of victory, and then provoke Juzai to her strongest attack, under which to substitute these two. Finish everything by eliminating Juzai.

____

Shouto didn't believe it was Izuku. Izuku has never been so cruel and apathetic. And it is impossible for him to fight with friends, not for the sake of helping them. During the Sports Festival, he paid with his body and a chance to win in order to help Shouto overcome his hatred and become a hero who completely gives himself for the sake of people. He fought Bakugou after Kamino in order to help him with something that you are sure of because of the change in their behavior. He did not finish the training battle due to the awakening of his Whip in order to help Shinsou with the transition to the hero’s course.

Right now, Izuku was definitely under someone's control or the effect of someone's quirk. Since the Dictator was frozen and shackled, and Izuku got out of control of Shinsou during the festival – he can only be under the effect of some kind of quirk.

Whether this could be a quirk of someone from the crowd or there is another villain here, Shouto did not know, and since it is unknown whether eliminating the villain or neutralizing a civilian will help, there is only one thing left.

Defeat his friend and bring him to UA.

And with the first part, huge problems have already arisen. Izuku has always been one, if not the strongest student of Class A, and everyone knows about his analytical abilities – it would not be an easy task to defeat him. What can he say about the fact that it will be extremely difficult to defeat him when he is ready to inflict serious injuries on his classmates? Nothing.

Thinking this, Shouto continued to zone Izuku with the help of ice walls, allowing Uraraka to carry out suppression attacks from the sky, and Iida to get closer to the strike distance, occasionally retreating for the duration of his fire attacks.

But Izuku obviously didn't care, because he dodged any attacks and demolished any of Shouto's obstacles, and even if something hit him, it had no effect on him…

He got too close to Iida, and Shouto shot a fire ray at him, but…

He grabbed Uraraka by the leg, with the help of a Whip, and put him right under Shouto's attack!

"Iida, help Uraraka!"

Izuku threw Uraraka aside, but it is clearly visible that her hands are burned. Damn!

Shouto throw another glacier at him, but Izuku dodges it and rushes straight at him!

"Todoroki!"

Iida runs up, clearly trying to stop Izuku, but he dodges behind his back and pulls out one of the exhaust pipes!

"No!"

Shouto's scream is accompanied by a shot of four fiery rays from his fingers at once, as well as two glaciers.

Izuku dodges the first glacier, passes all the rays, but falls on the second glacier!

Todoroki get closer in order to help Iida and Uraraka, but he sees how a cat hook flies into Izuku, partially frozen in the glacier, entwining his hands. Looking at the place where it came from, he sees Uraraka, from whose support object the hook flew out, as well as Iida, who helps her hold and pull the rope that immobilizes him.

"Come on!"

Even before Shouto have time to hear this scream, he is already going to use his strongest and fastest fire attack on Izuku when smoke does not start coming out of his mouth, completely blocking Shouto's view, but he remembers where he is and make his strike!

"Prominence Burn!"

YES! YOU HIT RIGHT ON THE BULL'S-EYE! NOW YOU CAN RETURN HE TO UA, WHERE ALL OF YOU CAN…

When the smoke cleared, shock was reflected on Shouto's face, because he did not see Izuku unconscious in his front, but…

Iida and Uraraka were hanging limply in Izuku's arms. Smoke was coming from their burnt bodies, but it was clear that the same smoke was coming from Izuku's other hand, with which he took most of the damage.

His mouth was twisted in an evil grin, and he himself was not frozen in a glacier, but stood on the top, like a king, stands on the top, where he demonstrates to his army the defeated enemy generals.

Just looking at this picture makes Todoroki sick… He is remembering something that Shouto have been suppressing so hard.

Memories of less than a year ago, which took place in this very place.

The memory of the illusion of his own death.

But he doesn’t have time to think about this thought, as Izuku releases the hand of Iida and Uraraka, sending them flying fifteen meters long.

Shouto's body moves by itself, and only at the very end do he manage to catch them and, although hard, but safely land them, when he already sees the shadow of a living nightmare falling on him from above.

The last memory Shouto have is the metal sole of Izuku's shoes flying straight at him.

____

"Fucking Deku! Everyone, take these idiots and get as far away as possible! I take it completely on myself!"

"But Bakugou!"

"I said get out!"

And Bakugou rushed forward.

To his childhood friend.

To the source of his nightmares.

To the source of his guilt.

____

Bakugou Katsuki. Quirk: Explosion.

His sweat glands secrete nitroglycerin, and also create sparks to ignite them.

He is the source of your pain.

On his hands he wears gloves in the form of grenades, which reduce the recoil on his hands, as well as accumulate his sweat, for a powerful directed explosion.

With which he almost killed you. Twice.

He has a huge experience in using quirks, a number of super techniques and natural combat skills.

He honed a lot of this on your own skin.

The only option for confrontation is to BREAK ALL OFF HIS BONES!

____

"WELL, WHAT'S A NERD?! ARE YOU SATISFIED?! ARE YOU HAPPY THAT YOU BROKE THE BONES OF OUR CLASSMATES?! AND I'M NOT EVEN TALKING ABOUT THESE STUPID EXTRAS, BUT YOUR FRIENDS AND CLASSMATES? EH?!"

As much as Bakugou was not trying to show his courage right now, he was afraid. He was more afraid than he had ever been before.

He was afraid that his thoughts were flowing in the right direction.

He was afraid that it was he who led to such a result.

After all, if think about it, what was this situation like for Izuku, with his fatigue and pumping chemicals that Bakugou used to put him to sleep?

To their old class from Aldera. For many years, when he suppressed Izuku. When he was beating him up.

How he destroyed Izuku's mentally and physically. How he indulged only his Ego, which demands to destroy all those who are above him.

But how could he not be indulged, when this Nerd did not value his life not a bit to give up his dreams.

And of course, we'll forget about who made him like this, right Katsuki?

But now he has to pay for what Katsuki are guilty of. Fight him. Let him vent his emotions.

Like after the Kamino. And then beat the shit out of him and return him to UA.

"WELL, COME ON, NERD, SHOW WHAT YOU CAN DO!"

In the next second, Bakugou could already see Izuku's fist flying at him.

"Too fast!"

Only on pure instincts did Bakugou manage to escape from the attack, but the shock wave still touched him.

The shock wave was so strong that it destroyed a piece of asphalt and threw him into the air. He has to maneuver with the help of explosions and realizing that the best defense in this battle is an attack, he flies higher and prepare to attack Izuku with his strongest mass attack.

"AP Machine-Gun!"

But before he can react, Izuku grabs the statue of All Might with a Whip and throws it right at him!

Seeing the approach of his idol's face, Katsuki concentrates and with a pain in his heart unleashes the entire attack directly at him, destroying the statue into dust.

But suddenly, Izuku appears to his left, who makes an impossibly fast dash in his direction... and stops right in front of him. At first, he does not understand why he is doing this...

Does he want to look into his eyes? Is there something he wants to tell him? Why did he stop?

... until Bakugou begins to feel the air that received his momentum and hit him with the speed and mass of almost his entire body.

He is sent flying straight into the moat that was dug by his first attack.

He's in pain. All the air has been knocked out of his lungs, his back hurts, and the ribs on the right side, on which he landed, are clearly cracked.

And then he sees it right in front of him again. Him, ready to destroy Bakugou with his last attack…

When the black whip falls off his body like scales, and the lightning of OFA does not disappear, leaving Katsuki in front of his glass eyes, which clearly say that he is not here right now.

____

"Ninth, stop what you are doing."

The First was unhappy. It is a unique situation among the Vestiges that the First is dissatisfied with something. And even more surprisingly, the discontent of the First towards the Ninth. The one for whom he has an amazing amount of love and warmth. The same amount of warmth and respect, received only the Eighth.

"You're going too far, Nine. The Second is absolutely right. You need someone to complement you."

Many other Vestiges did not agree with everything that the Second has said lately, but on this they are in solidarity.

Izuku needs a partner. Someone to complement him.

And they saw the ideal candidate in Bakugou Katsuki.

And in response to Izuku's attempt to kill him or inflict serious injury on him, they could no longer stare blankly.

They intervened and took Izuku's blessing for using their quirks.

And now they just need to explain it to the Ninth.

"Understand, Ninth, the hero should not be alone. The hero always has friends to support him. Batman always has Robin. Superman always has Lois Lane. So you have to stop and ..."

The first did not have time to finish, because the Ninth finally turned in their direction. And in his eyes, they saw their death.

"Even so, Yoichi?"

There was so much rage, hatred, disappointment and poison in these words that everyone immediately understood. Izuku is not the same person they saw before.

Not the boy who wanted to save Tenko Shimura. Not the kid who came to Kamino to save his opponent. Not the baby Eight met.

Before them stood their revived nightmare.

And the way he pronounced the name of the First caused the nonexistent blood of each of them to freeze tightly in their veins.

"So when I, working to finally end this eternal confrontation, when I work to the bone, so as not to allow him to kill more people..."

Every word he spoke was like the blows of a hammer. And every gesture he made was like a hellish cold that spread over their bodies, like dendrites and trichites spread over glass in winter. Like snakes crawling over their prey. Like ivy, twisting and destroying old ruins.

"... when I separate myself from everyone, literally leaving them and banish away all the people dear to me in order to protect them from his attention, which is focused on me, like Sauron's attention is focused on the Ring - you deprive me of my only advantage and expose people dear to me the greatest danger of all?"

His words were slow, verified, with a well-placed accent, which even more reminded them of the measured work of a blacksmith, and the aura of cold bound them, and at any attempt to do at least something, it only squeezed them even harder, finally becoming their anvil.

"Ninth, you don't understand..." said First, making the biggest mistake of his post-life.

"I DON'T UNDERSTAND?! OF COURSE, I DON'T UNDERSTAND HOW I HAVE BEEN ENDURED ALL THIS! I DONT UNDERSTAND HOW I CAN TRUST YOU!"

These words were no longer a hammer, but a sword that pierced each of their hearts.

The shadow of the Eighth tried to calm the Ninth, but he only brushed it off, scattering it in space and continued.

"You do not have the right to tell me, you do not have the right to command me, demand or even somehow interfere in my life!"

These words were so destructive to them that all the space they had was covered with cracks and almost fell apart.

But then Vestiges nightmare not only came to life, but became a reality.

The Ninth grabbed the First by the throat and said: "Now GIVE ME MY QUIRKS!"

And then all the Vestiges, and especially the First, recognized their Death in those eyes.

Death that visited each of them. Death, that wanted to take what it considered its own and nothing could stop it along the way.

And the Vestiges could not refuse this demand ...

____

You returned to reality again and once again felt the power of One for All flowing through you. The power that belongs only to you.

Along with this, you felt the stance in which you are standing. A stance ready to strike from top to bottom there, and where you were going to strike, you see...

You fly off to the side, running away from what you see here. And then, right behind this you are overtaken by the memories of everything that happened.

How you annihilated your UA classmates, seeing them as classmates from Aldera. How you broke their bones and exposed them to their own attacks. How you hurt your best friends. How did you not hesitate to use the symbol of your teacher's triumph as defense and as attack. How you hurt, your childhood friend, who only brought you pain. How you chained and demanded the Vestiges inside the quirk.

How you dispelled your teacher's Shadow.

It makes you feel sick.

You vomit right on the ground.

You cough up blood, bile and chemicals that put you to sleep.

But right after that you realize that your mind has cleared up a little and you... You don't feel anything.

A state of passion, your brain tells you. You realize how terrible all this is a little later, when you either wake up after passing out, or after you find some safe place. And now your brain only thinks about one thing. You need to save your classmates from yourself. And if most of the class is afraid to follow you, and your friends got serious injuries that will put them on the bed with Healing Girl for a long time, then here is Bakugou...

In whatever condition he is, he will follow you.

In for a penny in for a pound.

Since you have already committed so many terrible deeds, then stopping now means turning all your previous sacrifices into nothing.

And that means you need to commit your last act, which will make all previous sacrifices at least in some way valuable.

You need to stop Bakugou now. Once and for all.

But how to do that?

And then two thoughts run into your brain at the same time.

First, Bakugou blames himself in front of you. He blames himself for all these years of your personal torture chamber that you couldn't escape from until you got One for All.

And second, Bakugou is afraid of AFO and You. He fears AFO for being a tool for him. Afraid that it was he who became the final cog that set in motion the plan to destroy All Might. And to be afraid of You, because you remind him of AFO. By your quirk, by your mumbling, by yourself.

You are like AFO...

And then the most disgusting plan you have ever imagined is born in your brain.

The plan is so terrible that only now, when you do not feel anything, when your mind is clear, and nothing but pure rationalism is capable of guiding you, can you fulfill it ...

Well, it's time to play the role of the Emperor of the Underworld.

There really is a small question...

"What's so white in front of my eyes? And hey, using the whip in this way removes all the dirt from me?"

____

Bakugou lay there and did not understand what was happening. He did not understand why Izuku abruptly turned off the OFA, and then turned it on again and flew away.

And even more, his body did not understand why it was still alive? Why does it still hurt, if, in theory, it should now take off to the halls of the Almighty?

Bakugou continued to lie, trying to grasp several things at once, until he heard a shout.

"Will you lie there for a long time, Great Explosive Murder God Dynamight?!"

It was Izuku's voice. A voice that sounded funny and even cheeky, which is unusual for him, but the main thing that surprised Bakugou was that Izuku was talking.

The mad beast created by Katsuki's efforts was silent and could only mutter silently.

Katsuki rose abruptly from the crater to see what had happened and saw Izuku with white hair and black and red lightning whips flying around him, naked to the waist and clean of dirt.

It immediately seemed to you that something was wrong with him, but you did not fully understand that...

"Is it really you, the one to blame for the fall of All Might, decided to arrange a minute of inactivity because you destroyed his statue?"

Those words pierced Bakugou like an arrow. Because Deku couldn't say that... He couldn't say that, because Bakugou is not guilty...

"Or maybe you want to give at least some hope to the pitiful extras so that you seem more heroic against their background?"

All this was said in the tone of someone who was superior to you. Izuku's face wore a crooked grin that resembled sharks.

"Oh no, I know, you came up with a plan for the best way to win? No, no, no... You already knew how to induce, but you just decided to take a little rest, in order to show your dominance later!"

There are no words left in you, only pure rage.

WHAT IS THIS NERD DOING AT ALL?!

With a quick explosion you approach him...

... only to be bound by the branches of the whip that have escaped from the ground.

"You know, it was always interesting for me to try out one funny combination, but I couldn’t get it, this requires an experienced viewer, and it would bring too much destruction, but now... Now I don’t care. Fa Jin is 100% charged and OFA is 100% Smash. Great Shockwave."

Izuku spread his arms in the direction of the area where the AFO hit the last time and...

He clapped his hands...

... further in the direction of the clap, a shock wave went. It crushed the earth into small crumbs and picked it up, transmitting its impulse, turning it into such a small, but so fast shrapnel, whose cloud pierced the building like shelling from a large-caliber machine gun, after which the building was demolished by the shock wave itself, I turn it not into shrapnel, but into the huge shells that demolished the buildings behind them, row by row...

When the smoke settled, there was nothing ahead but a huge crater, in which there was not even stone dust...

This was the second. Second Ground Zero. Second Disaster in Kamino, but this time there was no one to stop Kamino Scourge. This time the Kamino Scourge was the one who was his enemy.

"Even the AFO hasn’t brought so much destruction..."

These words escaped Katsuki as he was shocked. When he lost the connection between the world that he knew and the world that was now before his eyes...

"Oh, thank you very much! This is a very good combination, but next time I will need to tweak it a bit, otherwise I didn't really like the penetrating damage, and the crater doesn't stretch that far. But I want to go further, deeper, more deadly!"

Bakugou didn't know what to think, he didn't know what to do. The only thing he could do was say, "Why?"

"Why, Katsuki? Because I'm sick of it all. I'm tired of your playing as a hero. And yes, I say Game because I can't say with even 1% certainty that you are not playing. Who are you? You are Great Explosive Murder God Dynamight, the one who always wins! The one who is always ahead and always knows everything for everyone, because you were born with such a magnificent quirk."

The last words echoed in Bakugou's soul with a terrifying wave, frightening his whole being, and this horror only intensified when he heard the muttering and a look that was not looking at him, but at something inside him.

A look and a mutter that you hated and feared all your life.

"But you know what? With such a quirk, you'd better forget about Pathetic and Useless Deku. After all, what a bad luck, it will be easily taken from you if you continue it. And not only AFO, but me too can do it..."

At that moment, Izuku grabbed your wrist and squeezed it, squeezed it until it hurt, and then continued.

"Do you know that if you break your wrists, then your hands will no longer be so good at dampening the recoil from your explosions? On the contrary, they will only lead to more pain, which, sooner or later, will become simply unbearable. And if you endure this and continue to use your quirk, your bones will turn to dust, and you can never use your hands or your quirk again."

Cold sweat covered you all over. You are terrified, because someone you know could not speak like that, but... He did say it. And you saw in this not another person, or the fact that he did it not of his own free will.

This was a man you knew well. The man who never threw words to the wind.

And that makes you sick.

"But do you know why I, a Wicked and Useless Deku, would do that? You understand, Katsuki, that I didn't always think I was that way. That I wasn't always a Pathetic Deku. No, I was Midoriya Izuku. A boy of about four, with a kind heart. But one day, I didn't get a quirk. I didn't become special like the others. But I was still myself. But did it matter to Kacchan who got his dream quirk? Was it important to Katsuki Bakugou, who was praised by everyone, because he is the ideal hero of the future? Is this important for Dynamight, who decided to save the pathetic, stupid, not thinking about himself Deku? Not if you don't look at it from the point of view that Katsuki Bakugou has created the perfect toy for himself. A toy that has been led to believe it is useless. And who took it with all her soul. Which got into trouble, from which you could easily save her, but you know what... I'm tired of this game, Bakugou. I am no longer Deku, and you are no longer Kacchan. Goodbye Great Explosive Murder God Dynamight."

And then, Izuku disappeared...

Bakugou realized himself only when his classmates came to him and they asked only one thing: "What happened?!"

But instead of answering, they saw for the first time that he was crying.

____

Izuku run.

He ran as far as he could, for with every second he acted out the role, his heart filled with pain that surpassed everything he knew before.

He didn't believe a single word he said, but his mind just kept on saying those words. Ruthlessly, with a grin and poison. With fatigue and cold. With what he never wanted and does not want to be.

He spoke like AFO. And when Izuku finally fell, when he could no longer run... He cried.

He cried and screamed about everything he had done. For which only he is to blame, and that it is unlikely that it will be built.

He burned all the bridges.

Now he is alone.

Alone, forever...

____

AFO arrived as quickly as he could. He saw the destruction that the Ninth Owner did with his own eyes, so to speak about the faceless Symbol of Evil.

He went to where the child was waiting for him. A child, almost 17 years old, curled into a fetal position and asleep in it. A child who did not stop crying even in his sleep.

A child with white hair, green eyes and a broken soul.

"You did a good job, poor little Izuku. You are finally alone and finally deciding everything for yourself. Doing everything for yourself. For your happiness. Now sleep. Sleep and gain strength. You still have a lot to go through in this life. So much to endure and so much to learn..."

Isn't it, little one?

#bnha #bnha spoilers #manga spoilers #kinda #izuku midoriya #katsuki bakugou #class 1a #bnha 320 #fic #when Izuku began to crush the vestiges Second hid behind the vault door and kick out AFO from there #Afo did not understand anything but he was glad to see his brother to give up his quirk and understand the pressure he puts on people #AFO took Izuku to a safe apartment where he injected him with a temporary quirk erasure put him on the bed and left katsudon with clothes #Izuku need rest #but before rest he need to beat some asses #No beta we die like a man

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maxineswritingcenter · 3 years

Text

You Saved Me - Derek Hale x fem!reader part 18

I’ll be switching point of views for this one so buckle your seat belts. I just hope I do the character’s justice because it’s been a minute since I watched the show. Also going to be changing the perspective because... My writing makes no sense and it probably never will.

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

“I'm saying we need a new plan, because next time, one of us is going to be too hurt to heal.” Derek led Scott and I into the subway car in the middle of the abandoned depot. The unfortunate reality is that Jackson was no longer Jackson, and we only had one option left.

Scott sighed, “Ugh, I get it. We can't save Jackson.”

Derek sat down on one of the seats, “We can't seem to kill him, either. I've seen a lot of things, Scott. I've never seen anything like this. Every new moon's just gonna make him stronger.” He said grimly.

“But how do we stop him?”

“I don't know. I don't even know if we can.” He shrugged, sounding defeated. I could imagine how he felt, powerful but so helpless.

“Maybe we should just let the Argents handle it...” He suggested.

“I don’t know if they could help.” I crossed my arms over my chest, “Chris filled him with lead and it didn’t stop him. I don’t think they could handle it either.”

“I'm the one who turned him. It's my fault.” Derek let his head hang.

“That’s not true.” I looked at him sternly.

“You didn't turn him into this! I mean, this happened because of something in his past, right?” Scott asked.

Derek scoffed, “That's a legend in a book. It's not that simple.”

“What do you mean? What aren't you telling me?”

“Why do you think I'm always keeping something from you?” He looked up at Scott.

“Because you always are keeping something from me!”

“Well, maybe I do it to protect you. Both of you.”

“Doesn't being part of your pack mean no more secrets?”

Derek sighed, looking down at his hands, “Go home, Scott. Sleep. Heal. Make sure your friends are safe... 'Cause the full moon's coming, and with the way things are going, I've got a feeling it's gonna be a rough one.” Scott left with a huff, leaving Derek and I alone.

“Der...” I said softly, running my fingers through his dark hair. He closed his eyes, humming softly.

“You can’t blame yourself, you could have never imagined what could have happened.”

“I thought there was something wrong with my bite.” His voice was barely audible, “Something wrong with me.”

“No, no, no.” Kneeling down, I cupped his cheeks in my hands, “There is nothing wrong with you. You’re perfect.”

“You have to say that. I’m your mate.”

I only cringed a little at his use of the word “mate” unironically, “That’s not true. I give you criticism at any chance I get. But that’s mostly because you keep turning kids into soldiers.”

“I guess you’re right.” His lips turned up slightly, “You’re like my conscience, but a lot better looking than this mug.” He leaned forward, pressing a chaste kiss to my lips. Grinning, I kissed his nose and stood up.

“I gotta get home, make sure everyone’s alright. I’ll see you later.” I winked, making my way out of the depot.

I got home late, but not any later than the usual lately. As soon as I closed the door, I saw Uncle Noah at the kitchen table. He was pouring whiskey into a glass, probably wasn’t his wish. He had dark circles under his eyes and looked like he hadn’t slept or showered in a while. Walking quietly, I placed my hands on his shoulders, squeezing lightly.

“Come on, let’s get you to bed.” He looked up at me slowly, blinking his pale green eyes at me.

“I don’t know what I did wrong, (Your Mom’s Name).” He said, “(Y/N) is so distant and she won’t talk to me anymore.” I was told once or twice that I resembled my mother, but in his drunkenness, he must have thought I was her.

“I mean, hell... She was dating someone for months and she didn’t even tell me. Sure, he was a person of interest... But he was also her friend.”

Smiling softly, I guided him to a standing position, “No, Noah, she’s just going through a lot right now. She’s still learning and growing. And you’re doing the best job you can and she loves you for it.” I helped him to his room and into bed.

“Goodnight, (Y/M/N).” He yawned, pulling the covers over himself and closing his eyes.

“Goodnight, Noah.” I said, closing the door behind me. I took a deep breath and went down the hall to Stiles’ room. He was sleeping away in the most ridiculous position possible, having fought off a kanima and saving his friend from death. I was just happy to see him there, alive and breathing.

“Goodnight, Stiles.” I whispered, closing his door all the way.

It was the night of the full moon and my body was already feeling the effects of it. But since my self training/ anger management was doing well, Derek gave a hesitant okay for working with Scott’s Scooby Gang to keep a look out at Lydia’s birthday party. Derek and I had the betas in the railway car in the depot. He was looking through his family’s chest again.

“What is that?” Isaac asked, looking quizzically at the symbol on the box.

“It’s a triskele.” Boyd said, “The spirals mean different things: past, present, future; mother, father, child.”

“Do you know what it means to me?” Derek asked.

“Alpha, Beta, Omega?”

“That’s right. It’s a spiral, it reminds us that we can rise to one.”

“And fall to another.” I finished. It was one of the few things I remembered word for word from the research we did back when Derek was cousin Miguel.

“Betas can become Alpha, but Alphas can fall to Betas, or even Omegas.” Derek said, continuing to look through the box.

“Like Scott?” Isaac asked.

“Scott’s with us.”

“Really?” Isaac’s voice held just a touch of sarcasm, “Then where is he now?”

“They’re looking for Jackson.” He looked pointedly at me, then back to the group, “Don’t worry, they’re not gonna have it easy either. None of us will. There’s a price you pay for this kind of power. You get the ability to heal” He handed a leather belt connected to a chain to Isaac, “But tonight, you’re gonna want to kill anything you can find.”

“Good thing I had my period last week then.” Erica chuckled. Derek pulled a metal crown from the box, there were screws turned inwards towards where someone’s head would be.

“Well, this one's for you.” Erica’s face immediately changed. Beeping made me look down at my phone.

Stiles:

2006 Swim Team - Lahey was the Coach.

“That’s my cue to leave.” I shoved my phone in my pocket and backed out of the open door, heading out into the open depot.

“Wait.” Derek called after me, catching me before leaving out the door in my car that was finally back from the shop.

“Yes?” I sing-songed, turning around to face him.

“I wanted to give you something.” He said, reaching into the pocket of his jeans, “You have something from Stiles but you should have something from me. Something that means... More.” From his pocket he produced a silver ring, it had a twisted band towards the top with a triskele cut out of the metal.

I started down at the ring in shock, “Is... Is this a proposal?” His eyes widened.

“No.” He squeezed his eyes shut, “I mean, not yet. This... This is a promise. For both of us. You uh, could wear it on your ring finger if you want though-That is if you want it-” I silenced his babbling with my lips.

“I love it.” I smiled, taking the ring and sliding it on my left ring finger. It fit surprisingly, “Thank you.”

“Tonight... I’m probably going to get hurt. Just try to block it out as much as you can.”

“Sounds good. I love you.” I cupped his cheek.

“I love you.” He smiled. My hand slipped from his cheek and I made my way out of the depot.

I parked outside of Lydia’s house and I was actually able to park in her driveway. From what I remember, Lydia’s parties, especially her birthday parties, were supposed to be insane and packed. Yet, I could only see Roscoe. Which meant that Stiles was finally invited. Good for him. I knocked on the front door and waited, slipping my hands into my jacket pockets.

The door opened, revealing Lydia who was vaguely confused by my being at her door. She tilted her head to the side and narrowed her eyes at me.

“Sarah?”

“(Y/N).” I corrected her.

“Oh. Well, come in.” She opened the door further, revealing the tray of pink cocktails in her hand, “Have a drink.” I grabbed a pink drink from the tray and cheered it towards her as I went inside, going straight to the back where Scott, Stiles and Allison were sitting on the deck of the pool.

“Is this... everyone?” I asked, sitting besides Stiles in a lawn chair.

"Maybe it's just early?" Scott said, not believing it himself.

Stiles said grimly, "Or maybe nobody's coming because Lydia turned into the town whack job."

"Well, we have to do something because we've completely ignored her for the past two weeks..." Allison said.

"She's completely ignored Stiles for the past ten years." Scott pointed out.

"I prefer to think of it as I haven't been on her radar." Stiles said in an offended tone.

"Whatever helps you sleep at night." I patted his shoulder.

Scott sighed, “We don't owe her a party.”

“What about the chance to get back to normal?” Allison crossed her arms over her chest.

“Normal?”

She shrugged, “She wouldn't be the "town whackjob" if it wasn't for us.”

Scott nodded, “I guess I could use my co-captain status to get the lacrosse team here...”

I pulled out my phone, “I could pull some strings with some people from my year.” I found the group text I had gotten from when I had been abducted, typing in Lydia’s address and the promise of a party and booze.

“Yeah, I also know some people who can get this thing going. Like, really going.” Stiles said, looking down at his phone. He was looking through his contacts, finding: Drag Queen from Jungle.

“Who?” She asked.

“I met them the other night... Let's just say, they know how to party.” He sent off the text then looked over at me.

“What is that?” He asked, motioning with his phone to my left hand.

“A ring. You know what those are, right?” I sipped my drink.

Stiles’ jaw clenched, looking towards the sidewalk, “You gonna marry him.”

“It’s not an engagement ring, it’s a promise ring.”

“Whatever.” He got up, walking inside. I avoided Scott and Allison’s awkward gaze and just took a large gulp of my drink.

In the next ten minutes, the amount of people who showed up was pretty astounding. Town whack job or not, promise people booze and they will come. Walking through the crowd, I saw people that I used to hang around with. A lot of people gave their condolences, lots of staring, sad smiles, but that’s how it was.

“A little jumpy are we, Jackson?” I took a sip out of my drink.

While walking through it hit me - shitty, over priced cologne. And possibly, a terrible attitude. And lizard. I turned quickly and saw Jackson. He was startled by my sudden movement.

He narrowed his eyes at me, then looked away, “I don’t have to explain myself to someone who makes minimum wage.”

"I would watch my back if I were you, (Y/L/N). Full moon makes me feel a certain way." I chuckled and looked down, craning my neck back up to flash him my red eyes.

“Maybe it’s because you’re not a disgusting lizard thing right now, but I could care less that you are trying to intimidate me. You don’t even know why you came here tonight, do you? You’re certainly not here for Lydia.”

It was my turn to narrow my eyes, “You don’t know why you’re here. So that means...” The puppeteer was here, “Good talk, gotta go.” As I walked quickly, trying to find Scott or Stiles, I found Matt getting a drink from Lydia, but he really wasn’t looking at Lydia. He had his eyes trained on Allison and the way he wasn’t looking at her reminded me of the night Michael took me. I didn’t like Allison at the best of times considering she shot me and all, but this was too much to ignore. As I walked towards Matt I was halted, like my feet didn’t want to move from what I saw. Derek was standing by himself near the outside of the house. I walked up to him quickly.

“Derek, what are you doing here? Where are the others?” They couldn’t have transformed then transformed back by now, there was no way.

“There’s been something I’ve been thinking about.” He swirled the drink in his hand, the same drink everyone else had, “You have a habit of making people miserable or getting them killed.”

“Excuse me?” I squinted at me, swallowing thickly. My throat felt dry and was it getting hotter?

“Think about it. Your parents think you’re too weak to keep your secret so they take your life from you, taking you from me. You’re the reason your parents are dead. You got Michael killed.” He stepped forward and with every step, I took one back, “I’m just wondering when it’s my turn to die or even Stiles.”

“Derek, I-” My eyes were watering.

“How about I kill Stiles for you? Save some blood for your hands. Or,” He chuckled, “Would you rather do it yourself.” He started to walk back towards the party. I grabbed his arm to stop him when he abruptly turned.

“You know what, I’ll just let you kill me. You can handle the rest on your own.” He grabbed my wrist and jerked it, my claws flicking out. I tried to pull my wrist away but his grip was too strong.

“No, stop!” I screamed as he slashed my claws across his throat, blood spraying across my face. Suddenly, Derek and blood were gone. All the party goers were going about their business, I was the only one who had seen Derek use my own hands to kill him. I looked over my hand and made sure the blood had been imagined. My eyes were then brought to the pink drink in my hand. This had to be the reason... Lydia spiked the drinks, but with what? I couldn’t even remember how many of these I had. To make matters worse, my stomach got super queasy-

I turned to the bushes and threw up everything that I had eaten that day. If I didn’t feel great, it was worse now. I got a few disgusted looks but that was the least of my problems. I dumped my drink in the bushes and started to stumble forward, looking to find Scott or Stiles. Thinking about it now, my mouth was starting to get itchy which was possibly the worst possible feeling to add onto everything else. I went into the house and upstairs, finding Matt groaning on the floor and Allison rushing passed me.

“Matt?” I asked, helping him off the ground, “What happened to you?” Once on his feet, he rubbed the back of his neck.

“Allison happened. She put me flat on my ass.” Probably with good reason.

He squinted at me, “Are you alright?” I shook my head.

“Not really. You got gum or something, that drink left the worst taste in my mouth.”

“No,” He said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a white pill bottle, “But I have some pain meds.”

“That’ll work.” I took the bottle then looked behind me, grabbing a water bottle out of someone’s hands.

“Hey!” The person glared. I glared right back, “Not the time, freshman.” This seemed to scare him enough for the kid to walk away. I opened the bottle and popped the blue capsule in my mouth and chased it with what was not water but actually vodka.

“Jesus!” I spat to the side, “What is wrong with people?” I looked at the bottle, realizing that it had no label.

“Hey, what was that? Tylenol? Ibuprofen?”

Matt smiled, “Mistletoe actually.” I blinked at him, my heart dropping into my stomach.

“What?”

“Mistletoe.” He chuckled, “That’s supposed to knock you guys out, right?” I took a step back and hit the doorframe, already feeling the effects of the poison in my system.

“Using Jackson to kill my murderers is good, but I need protection. You protected me once. From Lahey. And you’re gonna protect me again, whether you like it or not.”

SCOTT

Scott pushed through the crowd, asking anyone who would listen if they had seen Lydia. The drinks she had made had been spiked to create hallucinations. We had to find out why. She spiked the punch with wolfsbane petals which seemed to cause Stiles and Allison to hallucinate too.

Outside, Stiles ran up to Scott, “Hey, I can't find her. And dude? Anyone who drank that crap, they're freaking out.” They watched two people cannonball into Lydia’s pool with all their clothes on.

“...I can see that.”

“What the hell do we do?”

“I don't know, but we gotta-”

“I can't swim!” Both their heads turned. Matt was being carried by three people, he was flailing and panicking, “No, no, no, no, stop, guys! I can't swim! I can't swim! I can't-I can't-” The partiers didn’t listen, throwing him into the pool. He went under immediately. And to their surprise, Jackson and (Y/N) ran to the poolside and both pulled him out.

Once on the pool deck, (Y/N) got Matt on his side, helping him cough up any water he swallowed. They both helped him to stand. Everyone was staring at that point.

“...What are you looking at?” Matt barked at the gawking crowd. Jackson took the time to make his exit. (Y/N) walked towards Scott and Stiles, Matt close behind her.

“Move.” She growled, flashing her bright red eyes. The two parted, letting (Y/N) and Matt through. Immediately after, a siren cut through the air.

“COPS ARE HERE!” Someone in the crowd shouted, causing the party goers to scatter. Scott and Stiles followed the ground out and onto the street. Scott looked down the street and saw them. Matt was standing in front of his car, dripping wet and seething with rage. Jackson in his kanima form was in front of him on all fours and (Y/N) stood at his right, claws out and fangs bared. He’d been under their noses for so long but now that they know, that meant they were in danger, all of them.

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

Read Part 19 here!

Who needs a point a view when you’re under mind control, ammi right?

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