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oh-for-fic-sake-library · 2 years

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Soothing A Soul Chapter 2

Masterlist

Summary: Before Henry can select his omega he has to over see the crops arrival be relieved of duty and sign his own agreements.

Warnings: Fluff, anxiety, world building chapter, sliht jnfo dumping?

A/n: i loved writing this, i have enjoyed creating a world and history from scratch. The ideas behind this come from soo many different things its been fun stringing it all together. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as i enjoyed creating it.

Not beta read, please ignore typos

Henry had followed the crop through the lower levels onf the building carefully. His job was to over saw the slow yet methodical process of the humans being settled in to the selection chambers of the huge purpose built introduction center, aptly named 'institute of harmony'. It was a monolithic spiral shaped spire in the middle of Morithian sea. The calmest of seas on Astren and the most terran.

The water though dark was blue, a deep navy colour and the sky reflected the colour both bright and light yet deeply saturated. The hope was it would sooth the humans to see something reminiscent of earth as they ajusted to life on astren. Even the building had been based on those found on earth in a place called dubai, though this was ten times the size. And strictly for alphas acclimatising their human omega substitutes.

The institute itself was soemthing to behold even to the Xoumen. It was its own mini city, county even! Everything you could find on Astren was here. There were entertainment floors with everything from gaming centers to dance clubs. A leisure and hobby center that catered for human and Xoumen activities and health spas to keep omegas happy and relaxed. Then a few commercial districts which was a mix of human scale freindly restaurants ,grocery stores, toy and clothing outlets even a human brand called IKEA for human sized furniture and house wares to make life easier for the tiny beings and theh also delivered the furniturekto alphas homes outside of the institutewhich was very helpful. There was even a new retailer an adult retailer for thjngs to help intimate relations between alphas and their omegas which henry was looking forward to visiting at a later date. Thoough for the first few weeks he'd remain in the residential apartment wing and medical suite.

Humans always marvled at the huge institute with its high tech systems and eco freindly concept. But the one thing that seemed to wow the humans were the shift gardens. Half way up the main spire were four floors that ewere off limits until good weather. These floors unfurled outwards and circled the entire building for outdoor therapies and fresh air. The humans loved the colourful sweet smelling flowers and feather soft grass. But it was more desingned 5o break a mental barrier for them. The plants and animals coupled with the technology the gardens boasted helped the humans accept they were not on earth anymore. The stark realisation sometimes came with tears but more often than not they were to in awe of the fauna and wanted to watch the birds.

These gardens were beautiful, the most immaculate he had ever seen. But only the best was offered to the humans they were precious. The gardens also had small play areas used to encourage more movement. The quickler the himans healed after their trip and rebuilt strength the quicker they could leave the institute and travel to their alphas home and pack.

The main attraction in the gardens was a vast lake curling around the building like a moat, delicate water falls filling them. Not only a beautiful peaceful sight but also part of the entire buildings life support system. It provided electricity, fresh water and was apart of the cooling and air purifying system. When closed the water simply fell straight down the spine of the bulding.

Henry couldnt wait untill his own omega experienced it, even after selection she wouldnt be outside for two weeks, the gardens remained closed untill then the temptation was too great and the humans still had to acclimatise. As good as the travelling pod system was they cant recreate the exact atmosphere of astren. So they had to slowly wean the humans onto their own air. Luckily it was now automated through the building now. Unlike the first crop who had to endure the full force of outside two mineuts at a time, then five, then ten and so on untill they could withstand it permanently.

HIs mind drifted to his omega, he didnt know what she looked or smelled like. Hell he didnt even know if his was female! He only called her such becuase he was used to having a femal partner. Yet if the scne tthat called him was that pf a male he wouldnt care. He would love them regardless. He couldnt wait to meet her, to hold her and bond with her. The feeling of having such a small vulnerable being depend on him was just? He couldnt describe it. The need was ingrained into his very soul. It was instinctive, as natural as breathing! Yet it was skmething he and all other alphas head been suppressing and denying for so long. Too long.

He strode though the medical wards as the humans were all processed. None had failed their treatments as expected all were healthy and content. Some were being rushed into autonomy labs havng human medical devices removed. Pace makers and such were no longer needed here and the plastic would only degrade over time, its best to remove then and heal now rather then later.

As much as henry wished to keep walking the wards assessessing each human and make his own selection he couldnt. Not yet, he had work to do. Had to make sure each and every precious defensless bundle was checked, registered and comfortable in their basen ready for the alphas to begin their selection in the morning.

Hours later each human was acounted for, all of the data for each one uploaded to the chip ready for there alphas to collect and imprint on. Luckily the humans were resourceful. Every human had a number, the countries chose different ames for the number but it was the same as his citizen code. The number held your important information, age, ethnicity, place of origin, sex and any other official documentation educating, medical information. And with a few quick scans the humans were enrolled jnto the xoumen identification system, each ones file a delicate pale yellow. Omega.

Now they were all awaiting selection in their small basen cots. Patted down, their delicate muslces rubbed down trying to stimulate them so there was as little pain for them as they awoke. Each weighed down with a scent blanket draped over their slight forms to encourage as little movement as possible. Things ran much smoother now the program had been up and running a few sun cycles. Though this was the biggest batch so far to be recived. Henry was proud. He had helped orcastraight this whole thing and there had been no dramas. His race had a chance, real hope forma future.

Alphas needed the softness of an omega, they needed to protect and care for their omegas otherwise they go mad and becomd violent and twisted. So when the omgeas died out, the planet almost went to shit. Fights, drugs, war civil unrest and wave after wave of vicious violent crimes warped the planet and then soon after the packs began going to war over omega rumours. Entire neighbourhood demolished, packs slaughtered because an alpha just couldnt control his agressive nature any more. Alphas need the balance of a small soft mate, it gives them purpose and comfort.

And then the revelation. If we cannot have real omegas why not search for alternatives, substitutes. And the regime was set up, the Xoumens returned to their ancestors home galaxy; hoping that another planet had intelligent life forms that they could entice to return to astren with them. Low behold their ancestors had somewhat survived a cataclysmic event.

The Xoumen of old were reborn as human! They were a few thousand years behinde but they were alive and well. So the xoumens and humans came to a secret agreement. Xoumens woud purchase swathes of small humans to use as substitutes for the omega restoring balance and samity to their race.

And though the hours were long and the wait was painful and worrisome his time had come. Finally he was reporting in. The humans were all settled and safe. He gave the green light after one final sweep of the chamber and then the lights slowly brightened and the matron nurses were ushered out. His job was done and he had succeeded, and with that marked the end of his duty. Henry could make his selection and go home to his own pack.

He turned on his heel leaving through the large set of doors feeling proud and relieved, almost tearful. He had achieved something meaningful here, he'd perfected the process and managed to deliver 1000 humans, the largest crop so far. It had been tricky the forst two times there were small issues and unforeseeable complications but he had finally done it. He'd laid the ground work to his races future and behinde him was row upon row of small delicate beings, safe, healthy and in deep slumber resting in basin cots. The light s curve of the new beds supporting them perfectly, cushioning them in such a way there would be no sore spots on their soft frames a plush support cradling their neck gently.

He quickly hurried into the riser, what he learned humans called an elevator. A large curved peice of glass that clung to the side of the building and raced up and down the three hundred story institute of harmony. After reporting in and getting the all clear to leave his post he'd gone to his appointed apartment. Not only did he have,to retrieve his document chip and ticket confirming his right to select an omega but he also wanted to change his clothes.

Some humans get worried when seeing their alphas in their military uniform when they met. It was best to meet the tiny creatures out of work gear. He put alot of thought into his first meetjng outfit. Tight to shpw he was fit and had a pleasjng physic and soft. His tiny omeag wont beable to move much arpt first and will have her delicate skin pressed against him. He wanted only the most gentle fabric to touch her. He'd changed into the new clothes, the softest material available that he had spent a whole weeks worth of his deed credits on.

He eyed his reflection in the glass of the riser twisting slowly this way and that. He had a dark copper, russet colour sweater that felt like butter. Slim fitting and dark making him seem bigger then he was,subtle posturing something all alphas did when meeting their intended. And light cream pants again as soft as he could find. His hair was swooped back from his face in a natural mass of curls and his face freshly shaved.

The riser finally stopped on the floor below the selection chamber. The very same one he had patroled all day. He shook nerves reari g their head as his shoes clicked on the polished floor. One of the many advantages of being stationed here for the arrival was that he was here before the shuttles arrived with the other lucky alphas whod been chosen.

He strode up the the long counter his file chip and ticket in hand and smiled uneasy at the female behinde the desk. She nodded to him thanking him and took the chip slidi g it into the small slot before a holo screen popped up with all his information on it. With a few identity checks and linking his details tp the chip it was activate.

The woman pulled a small black band from a slot in the desk and ejected the chip and then sliped it into a concealed slit in the skin feel slim band. She held back a smile as his hand twotched, his eye glued to the coveted black band. Fingers twitching to grasp it and wrap it around his wrist.

"As im sure you know alpha Cavill i need to explain this to you as a civilian" the woman uttered holding up the baand in an almost teasing manner.

"Yes of course" henry uttered with a grunt, bitjng back severe warning growls that were bubbling in his chest. His eyes transfixed on his prize. The band was his ticket to the rest of his life. It too, everything in him not to snarl and snatch from the beta. She was only doing her job but it didnt make the whole danglig carrot scenario any less frustrating.

"This is your gateway to the rest of the building. You must have it on you at all times for identification purposes." She said finally handing him the slim bracelet. His fist curled arohnd it so fast he paused to check the woman still had her hand once he'd snatchedmit. She chuckled shaking her head probably used to this by now. It was an embarrassing truth but alphas couldnt help it, they lost themselves when it came to this natural instinctive pull. It made henry blush, he was acting like a spoiled pup. But the beta waved him off casually before continuing her scripted words.

"Once you select your omega they will have a smaller matching chip bracelet that will have your information on it as well as a corresponding number that matches yours for you to use as proof of your pairing." The words echoed aroh d himmas he quickly slipped the bracelet on his right wrist shaking a few times to make sure it was secure.

"Your chip will be used to access all floors, amenities and used to access your deed credit account. All activities, food and medically necessary threapy is free within the institute of harmony. Deed credits are only to be used for luxury non essential items in the commercial districts" he ry nodded apong with the mwoman prompting her to continue only casually aware that he was being recorded during the briefing. There had to be a record of him reciveing this introduction. It was actually his own idea to record aswell as thumprint and sign.

"This chip will also be needed to enter and exit your apartment. It will hold all personal details of you and your omega including all terran informaion of you omega.If lost please bring down your original selection notification so we can reprint you a new chip. All reprints are free as this is a necessity within the institute" Again he nodded knwojng all about the matching bands and information held on thhe chips as well as the way jnwhich he could use it to trakck and monitor his omega. It was when the woman paused waiting for him to verbally confirm he understood. Once he had done so she grinned at him.

"And norw for a bit of legality. alphas sometimes become overly protective of their newly aquired omegas. Should you feel this become an issue remain in your apartment until yourmbond strengthens and the aggression it passes. You must follow this step and inform us of the isolation." Henry blinked nodding. It was all he coild do, blink smile and nodd. He knew everything about the process, if he was honest he just wanted to throw his weight around and dive in. But he was a civilian now, off duty effectively retired! He couldnt evade the rules and run off into the selection chamber like a mad man. He wasnt an excepton, these were the steps everyone followed.

"Violence is not permited within the institute. Should we find you volatile and lack the restraint needed to maintain control of your aggression, and you did not take adequate steps to avoid violent outbursts. You will be seperated from your omega and removed from the institute." He flinched seemingly coming back from his impatience at the mention of having his omega taken from him. The thought was enouh to make his stomach drop. He'd never allow it, he'd kill them first, theyd really have to put him down to take her away.

"And last but not least, you must attend all medical appointments and follow all steps required by the program, if you are isolating due to territorial aggression you must inform us so we may make other arrangements for care and monitoring of your omega. Failure to infrom us will be seen as refusing care for your omega and you will be seperated from them and removed from the institute" he grunted but gave aanother nod. He understood, but the words left a sour taste in his mouth. His omega will remain with him until his dying day.

"Do you accept our terms and regulations?" The beta prompted knowing she needed verbal communication for the records.

"Yes absolutely" he spoke up quickly, hearing the tell tale chime of confirmation of the recording and then he was quickly directed to make an electronic thumbprintand signature on a slim box on the built in touch screen of the counter

"Great! Now all you have to do is go through those doors to my left and begin selection. Its advised to use scent to select an omega. There will be a small reader on the right hand side of your omegas bed. Once you make your choice press your chip to the reader and you will be able to pick them up and exit the selection chamber. Follow the signs to the wake ward where you will be guided by a nurse through the wakeing process" she woman quickly advised whislt moving her hand around the touch screens finalising the digital contracts and sending them to all the relevant people and services.

Henry hovered for a moment, his feet rooted to the spot as if he couldnt belive it was finally time. Slowly he pivoted to the left eyeing the doors, a strange awe inspiring feeling washed over him. Doubt excitement and fear all mingling with one another leaving him almost cathartic. He looked down to the hand clutching the black bracelet and moving his hands around it clumsily. Finaly he had the slim band around his left wrist letting the rubber contract around it. A tiny vibration signalled its activation. And with that he was all set. Ready to find his omega.

Fuck. was he ready? Wpuld she be everything he hoped for? What if he hurt her? Or she didnt adjust? Or she was still sick?! Oh god this was a big responsibility! He could fuck it up. Easily fuck this up, was he worthy of such a precious gift? He was borderline on suffering from territorial aggression already, its why he had been drafted into the military. He was a community alpha, a pack leader of his small holding and couldnt afford to let himself fall to his barbaric instincts. But was an omega really going to solve all that.

"Good luck alpha cavill" the beta said kindly snapping him out of the deep trance like state of worry. He smiled relaxing as the betas interruption quieted his mind. Silencing his worries just long enough for him to cross the few feet to reach the doors. He drew a deep breath and closed his eyes. He would let his nose lead him to the omega he was fated to find. He waved his hand over the doors handle, a small chirp rang out and he pushed forward crossing the threshold, he couldnt help feel as if her had just opened he door to his future, in a way he just had.

#henry cavill #oh for fic sake fics #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill rpf #rpf fanfic #alien au #fic:soothing a soul

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levi-my-beloved · 3 years

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Birds of a Feather

Chapter 3

Pairings: Canon!Levi x F!Reader

Content warnings: Violence, implied torture, two pining idiots being two pining idiots, probably ooc Levi cuz oof i suck

Word count: 8.2K

Summary: You were the most notorious criminal in the Underground City. With your organisation of highly skilled professionals, only one man could take you down. He also happened to be Humanity’s Strongest… and your ex.

Previous Chapter

First Chapter

A/N: y’all these chapters are getting real long now… and they only get longer as i keep writing. just wanted to a say a quick and huge thank you for the amazing support i’ve had so far. i honestly didn’t think anyone would read this little story and it’s so heartwarming to see people enjoying it

i love every one of y’all so much 🥺

𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔

If your hands were free, you would have shielded your eyes as the blinding sun greeted you. You weren’t quite expecting it to be so bright. You knew the overhead world was nowhere near as dark as it was in the Underground City, you’d seen the rays of light spilling down from the toll gate but never in your life had you expected life to seem so..,

Vibrant.

Blinking a few times, you almost had to force yourself to remember your circumstances, gently pulling against your chains. The look of awe on your face was unmistakable.

“Holy shit…” you breathed, eyes now wide as you took in your surroundings. It was warm up here. Really warm. The sun gently beating down on the busy streets. Levi appeared next to you, pushing you forward to continue up the stairs.

“Don’t get used to it, you’ll be in a cell before long,” you were expecting to catch some satisfaction in his tone, but there was nothing other than contempt. You took a breath, managing to resist attempting to kick his shin as you kept climbing the stairs, now fully embraced in the sun’s light. Though it didn’t last as long as you would have liked. Sooner than you deemed necessary, if you were honest, a carriage clattered up in front of you. It was surprisingly lavish considering you were a criminal. Squinting in suspicion, your hesitation only earned a rough push against the back of your head.

“Get in.”

“You never were one for manners were you?” you drawled after stumbling clumsily into the carriage. The plush leather seats squeaking against your own getup, leather on leather disagreeing with each other.

“Not when it comes to people like you, no,” the raven haired man took up a seat opposite you, immediately folding his arms as staring out the small, curtained window. A muscle in your jaw flickered in irritation.

“People like me? You mean people like you? Or have you really forgotten where you came from? Did you lose brain cells as well as your sense of self?” god you just wouldn’t let up, would you? Levi rolled his eyes, successfully masking how much he hated the way you spoke to him. Like nothing ever happened between you. He understood. Of course he did. He knew why you were so upset. Why you were trying so hard to hurt him. He knew you wanted him to hurt the same way you did, but knowing what you were doing wasn’t going to stop the spear you kept repeatedly driving into his heart.

You attempted to shift ever so slightly, just so your hands weren’t painfully crushed against your back. Once again the thought of kicking him crossed your mind, but the situation wasn’t exactly in your favour right now.

It was only a few moments of awkward, deafening silence before you two were joined by both Erwin and Hange, the latter opting to sit next to you, seemingly not worried about whether or not you could still skin her alive even with your wrists bound. Erwin sat a respectable distance from you, despite the size of the carriage. The man barely fit, it was only because of your own size and the size of Levi did you assume you were all able to travel together. That still didn’t stop the man opposite you from throwing you a disgusted look as your knee grazed his. Just to piss him off, you did it again.

“SO! Raven, you’re joining the Scouts?” Hange blurted out, earning her a glare from Levi, a sigh from Erwin and a baffled scoff from you.

“Yeeeaaah… no. That’s not happening.”

“I’m afraid you don’t have a choice in the matter,” Erwin chimed in, almost defeatedly.

“Why don’t you just do what you usually do with criminals? Hang me as some sick entertainment for the public.”

“That can be arranged.”

“Levi…” Erwin warned lowly, to which Levi simply clicked his tongue in response.

Shit, that one hurt. He really didn’t care for you anymore, did he?

Once again, if you had your hands free, you would have run them through your hair. Joining the Scouts? That was never really something that ever crossed your mind. It didn’t seem to make sense. Why on earth would they want to draft you in? The question was swiftly pushed from your mind, replaced by another. Something you’d been burning to know ever since you realised the Scouts knew your location.

“Who was it?” you asked quietly, staring at your feet. Levi stiffened, shifting his eyes from the window back to you. Your demeanor struck a chord with him. You looked defeated, shoulders hunched over. “Who betrayed us? I just want to know.”

A heavy silence settled over the trio, none of them wanting to be the one who broke the news. The bond and connection between you and your Nest was strong. Trust ran through your veins, so to have it broken by any one of them was already shattering your very being.

“A woman. Brown hair, blue eyes. Scarlett, I think her name was,” at that moment, everything seemed to stop. Your world froze. It was Scarlett. Your own lover. Your wife. The woman you trusted more than any of them. She had betrayed you. Betrayed all of you. She was the one who put Una’s life in danger. The one who was responsible for the scar across her neck she would carry forever.

The three Scouts looked at each other, each not really knowing how you would react. Not even you knew how you were going to react. You were stuck in limbo. Everything and nothing was going through your mind. You didn’t know how long you’d sat there staring at nothing, simply trying to process this information, but it must have been an uncomfortably long time, if Erwin’s awkward throat clearing was any indication, gently bringing you back from your thought spiral.

“Oh.” was all you could manage, still not able to raise your head. Your eyes started to burn after not blinking for seemingly too long. How could she? How could she betray you? To the Military Police, of all people. You hadn’t cried for a very, very long time, but damn you were close.

Shit this entire ordeal had been difficult, but seeing you so defeated was next level. Levi dug his fingernails into his palm to stop himself from holding you. From comforting you. He still knew you well enough to tell when something was wrong. Very wrong. And although his stomach twisted slightly with the ideas of who this woman was running through his head, it was all he could do to tear his eyes from your hunched shoulders, returning his gaze to the window as the world passed him by.

“Did you know her?”

“Why would I tell you?” you tilt your head, glaring at Hange next to you, your jaw clenched. You may have just felt the last remaining fragment of your heart shatter, but that didn’t mean you would give them any more information than you had to.

“Raven, I give you my word, we will leave The Nest be,” Erwin tried his hand at reassuring you. None of this made any sense. Why were they being nice? Don’t they know how many soldiers you and your people had slaughtered? How much you had stolen from their warehouses?

You raised your eyes, seeing Levi glancing at you cautiously. Silver hues flicking over your defeated form with that same, cemented expression of boredom, before slowly looking back to the window. You spent the rest of the journey in silence, going over all the events that had led to this moment. How you could have possibly let this happen.

You trusted Prongs. You knew he would take care of your family. But Scarlett…

The bony claws of betrayal grasped your throat, gently squeezing until it became difficult to breathe. The walls of the carriage started closing in around you. Helplessness tainting the corners of your mind. You were stranded. Captured and soon to be forced into the military. To face those titans you’d heard so many people talk about.

You’d found the first man to ever hold your heart. You’d lost him, and then you’d found him again. And you could almost feel his hatred for you.

And though you put on a brave face. Though you put on an act to convince him you felt the same…

You couldn’t find it in your fractured heart to return his hatred.

The gentle, rhythmic clopping of hooves came to a slow stop, the door opening outwards to let the four of you out. Hange hopped down the step with seemingly boundless energy, before immediately engaging in conversation with a taller, worried looking man. Erwin stepped down, but once again you refused to move. If you could make their lives as difficult as possible, you would. Pure spite was fueling you now, your only current reason to carry on.

“Oi, move,” it was a blunt command, and one you paid no mind to. Not even raising your head to acknowledge Levi had said anything. “Hey. Did you lose your hearing on the way here? I said move,” a sharp kick to your shin prompted you to tilt your chin just enough to shoot another one of your glares in his direction. He too had to keep up his charade until he could get you alone and finally have a proper conversation.

“Go to hell,” was your only response, heavily debating spitting in his face as his hands once again grasped your arm. You flinched ever so slightly at the contact, something that didn’t go unnoticed, but it appeared Levi didn’t care.

Levi did care. Holy shit did Levi care. What the hell had happened to you to prompt you to flinch in such a way? Who the fuck had laid their hands on you? Who the fuck had hurt you like that? He allowed the rage to course through his veins, before letting it simmer down. He would deal with that later.

You stumbled as you were almost thrown from the carriage, knees colliding with the stone beneath you before you were dragged back to your feet

That fucking hurt. You started to think that maybe you could return his hatred. The next chance you got, you were driving you knee into his fucking gut. But for now, you decided to settle your glare on Erwin as he was talking to a darker haired man who kept glancing in your direction. It’s only now you realised your condition. You were filthy, mud and grime greasing your hair, blood and small cuts littering your face and knuckles, a dark bruise blossoming on the underside of your chin. Levi’s hand still held you firm, preventing you from even attempting to escape. Not that you would. You really couldn’t see the point, other than running into titan territory yourself. You tensed as the tall, haggard looking man approached you, apprehension mixed with disgust clouded his eyes, but it was an expression you refused to flinch away from.

“The Raven?” you couldn’t help raising a brow.

“Stupid fucking question. No, I'm just an innocent bystander dressed like The Raven for a costume party. I just so happened to think a pair of manacles clasped around my wrists completed the look,” you hissed sarcastically, and you could have sworn you heard something that could resemble a laugh from behind you, but it was so miniscule it was difficult to tell. If only this had been ten years ago.

You watched with satisfaction as a muscle twitched in his jaw, before the man managed to compose himself.

“My name is Niles Dok, Commander of the Military Police soldiers you seem to have so much fun slaughtering,” he introduced himself in a way that made it seem like the last thing he wanted to be doing was introducing himself to you right now.

“So? Do you want a written apology or something? Have to take these chains off me first,” you spat, with the innocent smile of an adder. This seemed to rile the man up more, to the point where he fisted your hair painfully, yanking your head up. His voice lowered to a dangerous murmur.

“Listen you little whore, I don’t know which door to hell you crawled out of, but I have men specially trained to deal with rats like you. They take pleasure in every agonised scream they can rip from your filthy mouth,” you refused to let your panicked, racing heart rule your mind, using every ounce of mental strength to hold his stare, firing back with a nasty glare of your own. And it took all of Levi’s willpower not to launch himself at the MP Commander.

“Go fuck yourself,” the retort came so naturally as you actually spat in his face. It gained you a much more satisfying reaction than you imagined you would get from Levi.

Swiftly removing his hand from your hair, you slumped back, staring up at the man between the now dishevelled strands. Wiping your saliva from his eye. You flinched as the back of his hand came up to strike you. Quicker than you would have expected, Levi was immediately by your side, eyes glinting with murderous intent. But before anything could happen, Niles’ hand was caught by Erwin behind him.

“Now, now Niles. Don’t go harming my soldiers,” his voice was borderline condescending as the MP Commander turned to look back to Erwin with an expression of disbelief.

“You can’t be serious? Erwin, this wasn’t part of the deal. You said—”

“I said we would aid you in capturing her. What happens to her after, is up to us. Think of it as collateral,” he reminded Niles of the deal they had struck before their meeting earlier.

“I didn’t think you would force her to join the Scouts. Are you insane?” It was a question Erwin had heard many times before.

“She’s just another calculated risk,” —he explained, before turning to his Captain— “Levi, take her to where she’ll be staying for the next week,” you had absolutely no idea what the hell was going on, but honestly, you were just glad Erwin stepped in when he did. You didn’t fancy whatever strike was about to land on you, and didn’t want to deal with whatever trauma it would drag up from your less than agreeable past. You didn’t have nearly enough time to unpack Levi’s own movements.

“Tch, why me? Why not Four Eyes?” his eyes slid to the scientist, who seemed to be engaged in an increasingly elaborate conversation with that poor, poor soldier. Even you felt a pang of pity for him.

“Because I’m afraid if I let Hange take her, she’ll end up in her lab rather than the cell,” Erwin sighed tiredly, looking at Levi with almost pleading eyes as the conversation behind him got louder and louder.

“Fine. But you owe me,” he responded, before tugging you away with him. You were almost sorry when you no longer felt the warmth of the sun on your back as he led you inside.

It was a walk full of disgusted glares and crude remarks. Clearly everyone had heard who you were by now, if that wasn’t evident by the snarls of “Bitch” and “Underground rat.” It didn’t really phase you. What these people thought about you was their issue, not yours. Though, you wouldn’t mind beating every single one of them within an inch of their lives given half the chance.

You failed to notice Levi’s ever darkening expression behind you. The glares promising a painful death thrown in every direction. The way a muscle flickered in his jaw at every passing comment. It was only until the hallway was empty did he feel that tension ease a little.

“Down here,” Levi instructed, leading you down a narrow staircase. As if you could go anywhere else.

“Yeah, no shit,” you snapped, earning you a harsh shoved down a few stairs.

“Don’t get smart with me.”

“Why? Afraid you won’t understand me?” that feigned sweetness to your tone was one you had perfected over the years he was gone, and was possibly your favourite form of sarcasm. He clearly didn’t dain your retort worthy of a response, the only sound to be heard being the echoing of your boots against the stone. It reeked of damp and rust, a different stench to the filth of the Underground. Speaking of which…

“You’re disgusting,” a flatly delivered insult was thrown your way as Levi guided you into one of the cells.

“I’m so sorry, I forgot to have a shower before you ambushed us. I’ll be sure to remember next time so I can smell like a fresh forest. I’m sure it would be a more homely smell for you,” you couldn’t help the sarcastic remarks that flew from your mouth. But you fell silent as he began removing your manacles. Instantly a plan formulated in your head. This could be your only chance at escaping. You just had to wait for the right moment.

As soon as the chains were removed from your wrists, you thrust your head backwards, in hope of catching his face. But you were met with nothing but air, and the sounds of quick footsteps behind you.

“You’re even easier to predict now you’re in a cell. Don’t try stupid shit like that,” did he forget how to change the emotion in his voice? He was never the most emotional person you’d met, but he would at least sometimes change his voice from ‘bored’ to ‘slightly irritated’. You were starting to wonder what else he had forgotten during his time here when the iron bar door to your cell was slammed shut, the key clicking in the lock. Now you were certain you couldn’t escape, you took in your living space for the next week. The bare minimum had been provided. A bed with no bed clothes, a rustic sink you weren’t even sure worked, and a broken mirror. Great.

The scraping of a chair behind you piqued your curiosity, turning you head to see Levi had taken a seat in front of your cell door, elbows resting on his knees.

“The fuck are you doing?” you asked, rising from your knees to turn and lean against the wall, arms folded.

“Waiting,” god damn his single word responses. You huff in frustration.

“Waiting for what?”

“You.”

“I could strangle you with my bare hands and feel absolutely nothing right now.”

“You’d have to escape first.”

“What makes you think I can’t?”

“What makes you think you can?”

As much as you hated to admit it, he was right. There didn’t seem to be any way you could escape these walls, you’d already done a quick run down. Threading your hands through your hair in irritation, you cross to sit on the pathetic material they thought was a bed.

“So?” you ask, still no closing to knowing what the hell he wanted. Once again, he didn’t deem your question worthy of a vocal response, opting instead to raise a thin eyebrow. You briefly fantasise about driving one of your long lost daggers into his goddamn eye, before simply brushing it off with a roll of your eyes. “Fine. Stay there and stare at me. It’s your time you're wasting,” you shrugged, flopping back onto the bed, arms thrown out either side of you.

“What have you been up to?” you couldn’t help the bark of sour laughter at the question.

“Seriously?”

“What?”

“After all this time, the first thing you ask me is what I’ve been up to?”

“Would you prefer me to ask you something else?”

“What’s on the menu?”

For a moment, it almost felt like no time had passed since you’d last seen each other. It felt like only yesterday did he have you in his arms, curled up in his bed, gently running his hands over your exposed waist, revelling in how soft your skin was against his.

Running a hand through his dark locks to bring himself out of his thoughts, he changed the trajectory of his questioning.

“Who taught you to fight like that?

“Self-taught.”

“Bullshit,” you winced at his response, raising your head slightly to stare at him, wondering who gave him the audacity to doubt you.

“Oh yeah? Not all of us had the advantage of stupidly strong genes, shortstuff,” shit, you hadn’t said that nickname in a long, long time. Clearly he hadn’t heard it for a long time either, judging by the way his eyes widened his body stilled. Neither of you were able to comment on the irony of the name, considering you were just as vertically challenged. Managing to shake yourself from your daze first, you realised that was a lot for both of you. “Sorry,” you murmured, averting your gaze.

“No, it’s… fine,” there was no malice in his voice. No hatred, a surprise that caused you to turn your head back to face him. Levi cleared his throat before continuing. “How’d you get that scar?” the second question caught you off guard, not expecting anything so personal so quickly. Naturally, you responded with something sarcastic.

“Tea party gone wrong,” an irritated sigh echoed off the dank walls, clearly not satisfied with your answer.

“What happened to you, Raven...?” if it wasn’t for the acoustics of the room, you would have missed the comment, but your heart clenched painfully as the third question reached your ears.

“You left, so I moved on,” you didn’t mean to sound so small or vulnerable. You didn’t mean to drag your knees up to your chest and clasp your arms around them. You didn’t mean to turn your head again, avoiding his gaze.

Levi mentally begged you not to look that way. He’d never seen you so insecure. And that itself broke his resolve.

Standing from his chair, Levi crossed the small space to the barred doors, not thinking twice about unlocking it and leaving the key in the lock. His body was almost acting on a it’s own. Years of taking you into his arms and holding you suddenly came back to him and he wanted nothing more than to take you in his arms once again.

But he hesitated.

You both did.

After raising your head to look at him, you watched as he stopped in the centre of your cell. Almost as if he was silently asking for some sort of permission to just do something.

You shifted slightly so you were leaning against the iron bars rather than the stone wall to the back, Levi taking this as the silent permission he needed to take a seat next to you.

Shit, the instinct to throw yourself into his arms was almost overwhelming, but you refrained, not wanting that kernel of hope to smoulder into nothing when he rejected you.

Levi was the first to break the silence.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” you responded, looking up to him between the loose, mangled strands of hair now obscuring your face just a bit. Age had been kind to him. His features, now much more defined. He was still the same man you knew back then, but this one was more chiseled. You looked away when his eyes found yours.

“You look like shit.”

“I feel like shit.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

It wasn’t the exchange you were expecting, this quick back and forth, but you wouldn’t say it was unwelcome. A familiar warmth started to spread in your chest.

“How’s the jaw?” you asked, eyes wandering to the now hefty bruise against his pale, soft skin. You remembered when you used to leave marks of similar colour all over his body. His neck, collarbones, abdomen, thighs…

“‘S’fine. How’s the chin?” his own eyes slid back to you, silver irises scanning your face briefly.

“Yeah. Fine,” you let the silence settle for a moment, before breaking it again. “Sorry I kicked you,” Levi grunted in quiet amusement.

“It was a damn good plan. Sorry I knee’d you,” it was only when he heard your gentle chuckle did he realise just how much he’d missed you. Every fibre in his body was begging him to roughly tug you into his body. To cup your face in his hands and seal your lips with a burning kiss. But all that changed when he shifted slightly and you flinched at the sudden movement. He stilled, waiting for you to relax again before he too settled back down.

“You knew her, didn’t you?” it was a rhetorical question. Your reaction after the reveal told him everything. Not only did you know her, but she was somebody close to you.

You stayed silent for a couple moments, not really knowing how to respond to his shift in conversation. You decided to match it.

“Yeah. I did,” you wouldn’t tell him. Not unless he asked. You wouldn’t tell him who she was to you. What she was to you. That still fucking hurt like hell.

“‘M’sorry.”

“You say that a lot,”

“You’re one to talk,”

You didn’t even try to quell your small laugh, letting it echo off the stone walls. Even Levi couldn’t stop a small chuckle at your amusement, feeling himself completely at ease in your presence.

“Did you really move on?” it was his turn to feel small. His turn to feel a little vulnerable. He couldn’t bear the thought of you just moving on from what the two of you had. Just throwing it all in the past and leaving it there.

“Yes and no.”

“The hell does that mean?”

You sighed, tightening your grip around your knees. You hoped this wouldn’t be as painful for him to hear as it would be for you to say, but you didn’t hold out much hope.

“Yes, I moved on. I’m not the same girl I was. Trust me on that. I’m not the same girl you fell in love with, nor the girl who fell in love with you,” you had to take a breath, suddenly finding the air down here far too thick. “She wouldn’t have survived down there. That girl would have been killed by some pig the moment you left. So... I killed her myself. You already know I’ve been part of The Nest for a while, but I wasn’t really one of them, if you get what I mean. I didn’t stay with them, I didn’t eat with them. Sure, Viper took me in after my—“ you stopped, burying that can of worms before you even opened it. That wasn’t something you wanted to bring up right now. “Viper took me in, taught me a few things, but I stayed with you. I didn’t have to be one of them when I was with you. But when you left… I didn’t exactly have a choice. I couldn’t be so naive anymore. I couldn’t be so hopeful. I had to be realistic, and to be realistic, I had to hurt a lot of people. I had to see a lot of things,” you allowed the weight of your words to settle before you continued. “But that girl. That girl you knew. She never stopped loving you. Up til the moment she drew her last breath and I took over. She loved you. But I moved on,” you fell silent, realising that yes, this had been just as painful for him to hear as it was for you to say.

It was a long while before Levi spoke again, nowhere near as confident as he was.

“That’s who she was to you,” just as he thought seeing you again couldn’t get anymore painful. Just as he thought your words couldn’t get anymore painful. “You loved her?”

“Yes, but not completely. Part of me was still devoted to you. I think that’s why she did what she did. Scarlett was never a spiteful person, but she did hold one hell of a grudge against you. And I suppose, in a way, me,” the silence was so thick you thought you could cut it with one of your blades.

“She’s still there.”

“Hm?”

“That girl. She’s still there. You’re still in there.”

“Now look who’s being naïve,”

“You’re trying to tell me this new, supposedly ruthless killer would kick the shit out of some soldiers for hurting a kid. You’re trying to tell me this new cold hearted thief would bring medicine to an elderly woman and her son?”

“I—”

“You’re telling me this new, heartless little dealer would earn the respect and thanks of thousands of Underground rats? Because to me, that sounds like bullshit… (Y/N),” he wouldn’t accept it. You weren’t gone, he could see it in your actions. You were still there. His (Y/N) was still in there.

Hearing your name in his low, warm tone after all this time sent a jolt through your system. And when he turned to look at you, he could see silver lining your eyes. It took everything in him not to reach up and gently wipe them away.

“I’m not going to stop until you see what I see. I’m not going to let you think you’ve become this heartless, mindless killer just because you had to adapt. Because you had to survive. I’ve finally found you again. Do you know how long I searched for you? How many hours I spent tracing every single path I knew you would take. Asking every filthy mongrel I could find. Most of them said you were dead. Some of them said you were missing and hadn’t been seen in months. Years, even. But until I found a body, or some kind of proof you were dead, I couldn’t accept it,” well this certainly caught you off guard. Levi was never one for long, heartfelt speeches, or verbal communication at all, actually. So this was a little overwhelming. Two tears slipped down your cheeks, sliding through the sudden cracks in your defenses and leaving a trail through the thin layer of grime and dirt.

Levi kept his eyes trained ahead, knowing that if he saw you crying, his restraint would break and he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from holding you. But he knew he couldn’t. From the way you’d reacted to his small movements, he knew suddenly tugging you into him would scare you.

“I’m sorry,” your small voice wrapped around his fragile heart, both settling it and cracking it. He went to extend his hand towards you with the intention of smoothing down your hair, but the way you winced, almost anticipating something much more intense, made him stop. Shit, you really did look like a husk of your former self. He remembered the way your eyes used to glint even in the low lighting of the Underground.

“You should rest,” it was an appealing enough suggestion. Enough to draw a barely concealed yawn from you. Leaning your head against the iron bars behind you, you swore you could have fallen asleep there and then. Comforted by his presence.

You immediately missed his presence as soon as he stood, tempted to reach out for his hand but not wanting to push him away.

As if he felt your confliction, Levi stopped to turn back to you.

“I’ll be back in the morning. Rest, (Y/N),” it wasn’t like you could disobey when your mind and body was so eager to sleep.

“Fuck…” you muttered, running a hand down the side of your face, exhaustion hitting you like a punch to the gut. This wasn’t exactly how you saw your day going today, but you couldn’t exactly say you weren’t thankful. You didn’t know what you were, honestly. So much had happened, you knew you would need time to process everything.

The screech of metal against metal alerted you to the key once again locking you within the cell. Dipping your head, you watched the dark haired man return the keychain to a small nail in the wall.

“Hey…” Levi turned to you as you called out, his expression as soft as it was a few moments ago. “It’s really good to see you again,” a thousand butterflies suddenly exploded in his stomach. How long had he been waiting to hear those words? And suddenly, he found himself unable to reply.

“Tch, go to sleep, Raven,” he reveled in your amused hum as he turned on his heel, leaving you to recover after today.

꧁ꨄ꧂

Levi ran a hand through his hair. Sitting at his desk in his orderly kept office, he could barely focus on the reports in front of him. That haunted look in your eyes had left a significant mark on him. The way you now spoke was so different to the bubbly younger girl he knew.

With a shake of his head, he attempted to divert his attention back to the account of the mission today. You’d taken down a few of his men yourself, he recalled watching your blades find purchase in his makeshift squad. A few others hadn’t returned from where they’d chased your Shadows. Actually, most others didn’t return.

As predicted, it was a bloodbath.

Leaning forward, he reached for his tea, continuing to scan over the document until his eyes settled on your alias, and he couldn’t help but wonder why you hadn’t told anyone your name. It prompted a memory he wasn’t expecting. He’d tried so many times to bury his past. Thinking about it saved him from thinking about his lost friends. But it was unavoidable.

“Hey! ‘Re’ya gonna buy anything? Or you just gonna keep staring?” Levi peaked out from behind the legs of a taller man, peering at the young girl who seemed to be giving his father figure sass. He couldn’t understand it. Didn’t she know who he was? She didn’t look much older than him. Maybe eight? Nine even?

“Listen little missy, I don’t think you wan’ to rush me,” the southern lilt of Kenny’s dangerously low voice didn’t seem to deter the little merchant. Levi’s eyes widened as she folded her arms, her grubby face creasing as she frowned. For someone so young, she certainly had an impressive glare.

“Or what? You gonna kill me? I sell to the whole street, mister. You kill me, they starve,” Wow, she really seemed to have this whole thing going for her. Levi looked up at Kenny, able to just make out the subtle smile under the shadow of his hat.

“What’s your name, little girl?

“Hmph. What’s it to you?” she retorted, stepping closer. It was only then she seemed to notice his presence. Her glare seemed to soften almost instantly, head tilting in sheer curiosity. Her sparkling, (E/C) eyes widened upon seeing him there. He only occupied a fraction of her attention, before it returned to Kenny, that scowl also returning.

“You’ve got guts kid, I’ll give you that. But maybe that’s simply cuz you don’t know who I am,” he mused, picking up one of the loaves of bread you were currently selling. They weren’t fresh. Nothing ever was. But it was the best your family had to offer.

“Kenny the Ripper, right? Yeah, I’ve heard of you. Seen your ugly face in the newspaper when those shits up top toss their trash through the grates. And you better buy that now your filthy hands have been all over it,” Levi couldn’t tell if this girl was brave or stupid. He’d never heard anyone speak to Kenny like that and actually get away with it.

“(Y/N) (L/N)! Watch your language young lady! And what have I told you about mouthing off to customers?!” her face quickly morphed from a glare to something he could only describe as sheepish. An older woman leaning out from the door behind you. Her hair colour was different to yours, but those eyes… they were your eyes.

“But Maaaaa, I was just—“

“No buts. Inside, now,” her voice was stern, but Levi was perceptive from a young age. He could see the softness in her eyes as the girl pouted. Turning back, he watched her send a cheery wave goodbye in his direction, pausing slightly as it wasn’t returned. Her brows furrowed, before she darted inside.

“Quite the brat you got there,” Kenny remarked, handing over a coin in payment for the bread he’d picked up.

“Yeah, sorry about her. Pain in my ass but her heart’s in the right place. I hope,” Levi wasn’t really paying attention to the conversation, too distracted by watching the same girl clamber out the open window and onto the ledge above. Only using her right hand to climb, she paused, as if calculating something before shimmying along the wall, round the corner and out of sight. Before Levi even had time to question what the hell he’d just witnessed, her head popped round the corner, eyes searching for him. He raised his brows in question when she gestured for him, whipping back round the corner. Seeing Kenny still caught up in conversation, he quietly left the two adults, heading for the narrow alleyway she’d just ducked into.

“Hey,” the whisper made him whirl, stopping to see her cautiously step from the shadows near the wall. “You looked hungry, so I stole this from our stocks,” it became apparent as to why she was only using one hand to climb when she presented another, slightly smaller loaf of bread. It wasn’t as stale as the ones on the stall. “We got fresh ingredients yesterday. My father’s a baker but we only sell the stale ones because we wouldn’t be able to keep up with the demand for fresh bread,” she explained quietly, her eyes wide in earnest. If it wasn’t for his ravenous hunger, Levi would have declined the offer. However, the smell was too good to pass up on. Slowly, he reached for it, half expecting her to snatch it back. But her honest expression remained, only retracting her hand after he’d taken a bite. “Don’t talk much, do you? That’s okay, I get a lot of people who are shy.”

Crossing her legs, she lowered herself to the floor, resting her back against the wall to what he could only assume was her house. He followed suit, sitting opposite her in the damp alleyway.

“Your dad’s an asshole, by the way. Very obkonshus,” Levi assumed she was trying to say obnoxious, but didn’t correct her. He almost found it endearing.

“He’s not my dad,” his blunt response had her head whipping back to look at him, almost in disbelief that he had actually spoken. A small blush blossomed across her cheeks at her mistake.

“O-oh. Sorry. I didn’t know,” an awkward silence settled over them, before she spoke up again. “Your not-dad’s an asshole,” Levi glanced at her, noting her cheeky smirk. His own lips twitched in amusement. She wasn’t wrong. Kenny was an asshole.

They stayed there until he’d finished his bread, (Y/N) simply talking about everything and nothing.

“Where’d that little rat scurry away to?” Kenny’s drawl interrupted your little conversation, prompting the both of you to shoot to your feet. The girl shot him a worried look, not knowing how this was going to play out. Levi was never one to offer reassurance, never really needing to, until now. He tried his hand at a reassuring expression, before stepping out the alleyway a little.

“Here, I was just—” he looked back to the narrow street where she just was, only to find she’d completely disappeared. His eyes widened ever so slightly, attempting to peer further down the alley. How had she done that? She was right there. Maybe you’d already started your climb? His eyes travelled up the side of the wall, but found nothing.

“The fuck are you lookin’ at brat? C’mon, we’re leavin’,'' Kenny strode past him, roughly tugging him along. But Levi wasn’t looking where he was going, silver eyes still glued to that alley, waiting for her to emerge. But she never did.

A harsh knock on his door snapped him out of his memory spiral. How long had he been sitting here? Usually he had a good grasp on time but right now it could have been four in the morning or two in the afternoon. Running a hand down the side of his face, he went to sip his tea, grimacing as the now cold liquid graced his tongue. Setting it down almost immediately, he would have forgotten anyone knocked on his door in the first place had they not knocked again.

“Levi? Are you in there?” Erwin. Great.

“The fuck do you want Eyebrows?” Erwin clearly took that as permission to enter. Not that he needed permission.

Levi raised his eyes as his Commander strode in, pushing the door closed behind him.

“I was wondering if you managed to get information out of our little criminal.”

Levi’s jaw flexed.

“No.”

“Nothing?” Erwin seemed a little surprised and Levi couldn’t for the life of him think why. He didn’t know about your relationship, and it wasn’t like he was well practiced in his social skills.

“Nothing. She’s refusing to say anything other than annoying, sarcastic quips.”

“You two aren’t so different then.”

“Oi,” Erwin chuckled at Levi’s low warning, holding up an apologetic hand.

“Apologies, forgive me. It was just a joke,” Levi rolled his eyes, clicking his tongue as Erwin took a seat on the leather sofa, crossing an ankle over his knee. “I’m surprised. I thought you two may get along. Considering your shared upbringing,” if he wasn’t talking to Levi, anyone else would have thought it was an innocent enough assumption. But over the years, Levi had learned Erwin’s tells, and knew when there was something deeper going on. But still, there was no way he could know about your literal shared past.

“She’s abrasive, rude, cocky and thoroughly unpleasant. Why on earth would we get along?” Levi knew he was lying through his teeth. Whilst yes, you were in fact abrasive, cocky and rude, you were far from unpleasant. He wouldn’t have shared his heart with you if you were.

Erwin pinched the bridge of his nose. Suddenly he looked incredibly tired, like he hadn’t slept in weeks.

“Did you know her? From your time down there. Did you two ever run into each other?” straight to the point, it seemed. Erwin hadn’t missed the Captain’s flash of recognition back when you’d taken your mask off. He hadn’t missed the way he froze to the spot.

But Levi wasn’t about to open up to anyone, especially not the same Commander that had dragged him kicking and screaming into the Scouts.

Truth be told, after that first interaction, Levi had tried his damndest to see you again at every opportunity. He’d never been shown that sort of kindness since his mother died, and he didn’t want your little spark to be snuffed out by the Underground. He didn’t speak to you very often, only silently offering to walk you home at night, warding off any unwanted attention a young woman would draw.

He offered to share his small home with you when you were both around fourteen. It had been two years since Kenny abandoned him, and he noticed you looked directionless, and though it had taken a while for you to open up, he was happy for you to stay with him until you found somewhere else.

He just never expected to fall in love with you, or for you to fall in love with him.

“No. I’ve never seen her before,” Levi lied, keeping his eyes trained on the same document he must have been staring at for the last god knows how long, too lost in his own mind to concentrate.

Erwin wasn’t quite as good at reading Levi, and so accepted that as his truthful answer.

“Very well, I bid you a good night, Captain,” ah. So it was nighttime. Noted.

“Yeah yeah, see you tomorrow,” Levi waved his hand dismissively, once again earning another chuckle from Erwin as the door was pulled shut.

Levi almost instinctively reached for his tea again, only just remembering it was stone cold. He sighed in irritation, rising from his chair. He didn’t think there was enough tea in the world to help him sort through his thoughts. But damn if it didn’t make it easier.

Rolling his now stiff shoulders, he picked up the cold brew and headed to the kitchen. It was going to be a long night.

꧁ꨄ꧂

Sleeping in the Underground City was a luxury. Despite your exhaustion, sleep didn’t come easily. You assumed you must have dozed off for an hour at least before the faint sound of multiple footsteps had you sitting bolt upright, your muscles barking in protest. You were always aware of your surroundings. Always ready, even when you may look like you were resting.

You didn’t quite know what to expect, quickly running through several scenarios and possibilities in your head. One of those possibilities rounded the corner from the stairs. Four MP soldiers now stood outside your cell, one jiggling the keys into the lock. Immediately you stood, not going down without a fight. Though it wasn’t much of one. Before you had even landed a proper blow on any of them, you were harshly kicked to the floor. Your body having not woken up properly yet, you were easy enough to subdue as they clasped your wrists together in front of you with rope. Not what you were expecting but it was more comfortable than behind your back.

You stayed silent as they dragged you further deeper into the complex of jails and cells. You didn’t imagine they would span this far beneath what you assumed was the headquarters, but nonetheless you kept walking until you were faced with a wooden door. The same soldier fiddled with the lock until it swung open and you were kicked inside.

Raising your head, you saw the room wasn’t exactly empty. An array of bats and blunt trauma objects rested against the far side of the wall, but that wasn’t what threw the spear of terror into your heart.

A single, iron hook extended down from the ceiling. It looked like it would be used for bleeding or drying meat, but you could think of several other uses for it. For example, your current situation.

The door locking behind you had your head whirling, eyes darting from the man with the key to the wood that now trapped you inside.

“Ah, Raven. I’m sure our commander forewarned you about this, I don’t really know why you look so surprised,” you shivered at the fake pleasant tone, a stark contrast to the way you were now being tugged to your feet, arms thrown up above you. You realise now why they used rope instead of chains, your wrists being hooked up above you. Your feet now only just grazing the floor, head falling between your shoulders with your loose thin shirt riding up your stomach. You suddenly regretted shedding your leather jacket earlier, wanting to be a little more comfortable as you attempted to sleep.

“We have strict instructions not to permanently damage you, however we have various other methods,” one of your torturers stalked behind you, reaching up to twist the hook so you spun with him, now facing the wall of weaponry. The other three who had accompanied you all leant against the wall to you right, as if waiting for their turn. “I thought I would be kind enough to let you choose which we start with. Since you’d be the one on the receiving end,” the sick fuck. He was really enjoying this wasn’t he?

“At least tell me what you fucking want,” you spat, thrashing slightly in your bonds. The man simply laughed, crossing to the selection.

“Oh, we don’t want information. Just for you to suffer as much pain as we did when you killed our comrades,” ah, so they had personal connections. Understood.

“I’d do it again in a heartbeat,” your crooked, satisfied grin faltered as his expression darkened, crossing the room towards you in a few strides. Roughly grabbing your chin, he forced your head up to meet his gaze as you writhed in his tight grip.

“You know, you were quite the formidable criminal down there. Slaughtering and murdering whoever you pleased. Harming those who had done nothing to you. But look at you now, strung up like a squealing pig. Fuck, if it isn’t satisfying to see,” he threw your head back down before driving his foot into your gut. The impact sent you swinging backwards, saliva flying from your mouth.

Raising your eyes, you shot him a visceral glare as he browsed his collection of weapons as if he was picking out a pastry at a bakery. Opting for the classic wooden bat, you braced yourself for the night to come, knowing it was going to be a long one.

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geekgirles · 3 years

Text

Mirrors

Disclaimer: This was originally going to be much longer (and it is very long already) but since I might have overdone it, I will be cutting it in two. The second part will feature the similarities and differences between Marinette and Kagami and some final thoughts.

Part 2

Kagami’s name means ‘mirror’ in Japanese, and according to Thomas Astruc, that’s not a coincidence. Indeed, she’s supposed to be a reflection of the main characters. This trait is best seen through her role as an alternative love interest for Adrien, but she is also a reflection of Marinette’s own character; more specifically, her own relationship with Adrien.

However, the way Kagami works as a mirror changes from one character to the other. For Adrien, she’s a direct parallel to many of the traits that make him who he is, only that she adds more nuance to them. For Marinette, despite their many similarities, they are also opposites.

In this analysis I will reflect (pun not-intended) on the way Kagami works as Adrien’s mirror, how she does the same for Marinette, and the way that affects her relationship with both of them.

Adrien and Kagami:

As Adrien’s alternative love interest over Ladybug, it is to be expected that Kagami would have enough things in common with him for Adrien to be able to relate to her and see her as something other than a friend.

And this is one of the reasons why Adrien has considered Kagami as his girlfriend and not Marinette; her proximity to his own situation.

Kagami’s introductory episode, Riposte, already focused a lot of its attention in highlighting how similar the two are. Aside from sharing a common interest in fencing (which allows them later on to spend time together outside of school or business-related occasions), Riposte already showed enough of Kagami’s background to make us understand why Adrien would bond with her. Their respective parents are both strict, expect nothing but the best from their kids’ performance in everything they do and, most importantly, they’re both very absent in their lives while simultaneously being present in every aspect of them.

We all know how Gabriel controls every single aspect of Adrien’s life while never spending time with his son at the same time, but Tomoe is just as controlling and overprotective. In Ikari Gozen she considered her daughter having friends should be at the bottom of her priority list, even hinting some trust issues with the sole idea.

And, despite that, in Riposte Kagami was all alone in the car, calling her mother to let her know that she had failed, but not showing any signs of expecting any sort of comfort from her. After all, she said it herself:

“There's no such thing as a second chance in my family.”

Another parallel between Adrien and Kagami is precisely the fact that Tomoe relies on someone else to look after her daughter, just like Gabriel tends to shove his responsibilities with Adrien onto Nathalie and Gorizilla. Except that in Tomoe’s case it’s even worse; she entrusts her daughter to Tatsu, an artificial intelligence, not a human being.

Of course, the similarities between them don’t end there. Adrien and Kagami are pretty much birds of a feather in the sense that both of them are very inexperienced with socialising. They’re both lonely, rich kids with a difficult home life who just want to be able to do things most kids their age do.

That’s why Adrien connected so well with Kagami; they’re on the same boat.

As I said earlier, Kagami acts as a mirror to Adrien, not only because of the similarities that have already been discussed, but also because her personality is very much like Adrien’s, except she either takes things to the extreme, or isn’t as similar to Adrien as she should.

Facing their parents:

Believe it or not, when it comes to calling out their parents for their behaviour, Adrien is more willing to face his father than Kagami her mother.

Ever since his mother disappeared, Adrien’s been trying to be there for his father. Pretty much everything he does that isn’t related to his friends or his life as Chat Noir he does it for Gabriel. He studies Chinese, goes to photoshoots, fences, plays the piano, and any other extracurricular activity I might have forgotten about because he thinks that’s what will make his father happy. Deep down, Adrien knows it’s unfair that he’s forced to live like that, he just sucks it up because he knows his father’s hurting and wants to alleviate that burden.

But whenever Gabriel’s behaviour becomes too unreasonable for even Adrien to excuse, he’s always ready to rebel against him in some way. In Origins he tried and succeeded in going to school instead of staying at home like his father wished. In Santa Claws he ran away from home because of Gabriel’s cold and distant attitude despite being the first Christmas without Emilie for the both of them. In Simon Says, as Chat Noir, he called his father out on his stubbornness and refusal to get help despite being an akuma’s main target. And in Feast he showed his disappointment and disapproval of the way Gabriel brushed Nathalie’s condition off.

And he did all that on his own, either for himself or for the sake of others.

Kagami, on the other hand, still relies on others to face her mother. In Ikari Gozen, despite going against her mother’s wishes, it wasn’t until Marinette had the guts to try and stand up to Tomoe that Kagami managed to put her foot down in her request to spend some time with her new friend. And unlike Adrien as Chat Noir in Simon Says where, despite having some help from the confidence his secret identity gives him, he confronted his father on his behaviour, Ryuuko confronted Ikari Gozen, not Tomoe. In other words, she stood her ground against an exaggeration of her mother’s flaws, not against her mother’s true self.

Moving on:

While the show has shown Adrien having difficulties letting go of Ladybug, the main difference between him and Kagami is that he has at least considered it. Since Frozer, Kagami has shown she will fight for Adrien until the very end.

In fact, of the four teens romantically involved with each other, Kagami is the only one who hasn’t expressed any sort of conformity with the idea of her love interest not choosing her in the end. Even Marinette and Adrien, despite hurting immensely, had considered letting go of their respective crushes and pursuing somebody else when it looked like they were getting nowhere.

In Frozer, despite acting nonchalant about it, Kagami was very clear to Adrien: “The day you realize you've got the wrong target, I'll be here.”

With that she makes it very obvious that she’s willing to wait for Adrien, no matter how long it takes him to realise his feelings for her. That’s Kagami’s approach: she prefers to wait before accepting defeat.

In a way, this makes her a foil to Luka as well.

Ever since Frozer, Luka has shown he will support Marinette if she chooses to go after Adrien instead of him in the end, whereas Kagami, while never outright declaring she won’t be there for Adrien if he weren’t to choose her, she never really hinted she would move on from him if he did, either.

The best example of this would, in a way, be what she said as Oni-Chan: “He's the only one who's worthy of me! And the only one I will ever love!”

If I’m being perfectly honest, this sentence doesn’t do Kagami’s character and her feelings for Adrien justice. The way it was written, it just makes her look unreasonable and like a yandere. And you might say it’s because she was akumatised. And you would be right, if it weren’t because Luka’s confession to Marinette also doubled as a declaration of protection and wasn’t painted in nowhere near the same negative light.

But back to the point.

Summing up, the kind of trouble Adrien has moving on he inherited from his father (in a, thankfully, less worrisome way), Kagami has too, but hers seems to be more severe. And there’s a high chance this will play an important role in Lies, or at least in season 4...

Making friends:

Now, as stated above, this is one of the points they have the most in common but also have the most differences in; their issues with socialising.

What makes the two of them so similar is that they’re both kids who’ve been sheltered their whole life, kids who long to have some friends of their own, and who, as a result, struggle greatly with reading social cues.

However, their respective personalities are what really makes the difference.

Adrien is kind, honest, and approachable, both on a superficial and deep level. Kagami, on the other hand, is all those things, but once you get to know her; at first glance she might seem cold, honest to the point of brutality, and difficult to connect with.

Unlike Lila, who got the class’ attention for her supposed life and high status, these two really are the children of influential people, and yet that’s not why the class appreciates Adrien, or even pretends to get along with Kagami for what it could give them. They’re not that shallow.

The class likes Adrien because he’s a cinnamon roll. And, judging by the girls’ reactions to Kagami in both Frozer and Desperada, they aren’t close to her because they only know her on a superficial, non-flattering level.

They’ve both been sheltered and yet, Adrien manages to connect with others better. While Kagami had to rely on an app to try and get along with Marinette, with rather awkward results. And, let’s not forget, it wasn’t until Marinette got to see Kagami was just like Adrien at the beginning that she realised that she’d misjudged her and actively tried to be her friend.

And now the three of them are close friends! (Leaving shipping drama aside…)

The main difference between the two is that, at first sight, Adrien is more approachable than Kagami.

Recklessness:

As the series progressed, we’ve seen little by little how these two tend to be reckless at times. Especially when handling their miraculouses.

Now, it is true that Marinette has made her fair share of mistakes as well because she was impulsive, but most of the time that flaw shone through as Marinette, not Ladybug. Whereas Adrien and Kagami appeared to be far more composed as their civilian selves (because they have to be due to their parents’ strictness) than their superhero selves.

When they both received their miraculouses they both made the same mistake: they transformed before learning everything they needed to in order to be effective users. In Adrien’s case, he didn’t listen to Plagg when he was about to tell him about the Cataclysm’s time limit. And in Kagami’s she transformed just as Longg was about to tell her about Ladybug’s plan.

As a result, Chat Noir wasted his power when facing off against Stone Heart, and Ryuuko allowed Ikari Gozen to capture Chat Noir.

Moreover, in both cases they viewed their newfound powers as a chance to escape their parents and their lifestyles, both literally and figuratively. Therefore, judging by these similarities as well as the others we have already discussed, I’m going to dub this impulsiveness they display as superheroes as the “Sheltered Rich Kid Syndrome.”

Even so, there is a difference between the two: Kagami was actually more reckless than Adrien when she first transformed.

In Origins, Chat Noir acted on his own not because he wanted to, but because Ladybug was still doubting herself to be of assistance. But, the moment she stepped in and took charge of the situation, Chat followed her plans without hesitation.

Kagami, on the other hand, fuelled by her own issues with her mother, her impulsiveness, and her newfound liberty, insisted on taking on Ikari Gozen by herself without a plan or even Ladybug and Chat Noir’s assistance (despite them being the seasoned heroes of Paris). And this decision lacked forethought because 1) she had no experience fighting akumas, 2) despite her experience fighting her mother, Kagami always loses (and that is when Tomoe has no superpowers), and 3) she obviously had no strategy.

It wasn’t until she ultimately failed and made things more complicated for the heroes that she realised her mistake.

In other words, while both Adrien and Kagami use their alter egos as an escape from their proverbial prisons, Adrien takes his responsibilities as Chat Noir and his loyalty to Ladybug more seriously than Kagami.

Honesty:

I did say earlier that Adrien and Kagami are both honest people. Even so, saying they’re at the same level of honesty would be a lie.

Adrien’s sincerity is what warmed Marinette up to him, just like it did for Kagami, but he’s nowhere near as honest as Kagami.

As @miraculouslycool and @flightfoot pointed out not long ago, Lila is actually what Adrien would have turned into if it weren’t for his redeeming qualities and the use he gives to his abilities. Because both are kids who have learned to be sneaky in order to get what they want. Adrien can’t afford to have his father finding out about the things he hides from him because it would lead to disastrous consequences, like when he pulled him out of school over the grimoire.

True, Adrien chooses to be honest, kind to others, and the best person he can possibly be. Major kudos for that. But he’s still not above lying or using relatively underhanded tactics to get the results he wants. The best example being his lie to Théo about being an item with Ladybug just to get him to back off.

In a way, that could be a reason why he’s so disgusted by Lila’s behaviour. Unlike him, she doesn’t use her lies and manipulation as a last resort, she uses them with everyone regardless of her interactions with them and the consequences of her actions just because she can.

But I’m getting off topic.

As stated above, Adrien chooses to be honest, but is perfectly capable of being sly and sneaky. He knows how to operate in the shadows.

Kagami doesn’t.

And that is probably because in her case not being honest is what can get her in serious trouble, let alone if she misbehaves or not. So, fear of the consequences tied with a natural disdain for lies have made Kagami to be honest to a fault.

And this wouldn’t necessarily be a bad thing if it weren’t for the fact that she’s so honest, she becomes brutally honest; coming off as rude to others. To put it simply, Kagami doesn’t know how to sugarcoat things, for one reason or another. Which is why her assessment on Marinette’s personality based on her deduction of her blood type and a single question about her favourite season can be seen as rude or impolite. And it is perfectly fine to see it like that! After all, that is the conclusion many of us would arrive at if we were in Marinette’s situation and had no context on why the other person is acting like that.

Honestly, if I’d been in Marinette’s shoes, I would’ve been like, “Joke’s on you. I’m type A.”

Basically, while Adrien is used to working in the shadows, Kagami is forthright and prefers to face things head on, and both are mindsets and strategies with strengths and weaknesses.

The rings:

Now this is another delicious parallel between the two, just like Marinette and Luka both have earrings.

As we’ve been saying all along, Adrien and Kagami both have a lot on their plate. They have many responsibilities that can become a burden in the long run, especially when we keep in mind that they are still children. Just like Marinette is exhausted from having to be level-headed and responsible in so many scenarios.

However, the rings Adrien and Kagami wear are both parallels and opposites from one another. They both represent some kind of responsibility at their core, but the effects of said responsibility vary.

In Adrien’s case, he wields the black cat miraculous. Needless to say, this ties him with the duties that come from being Chat Noir and having the power of destruction by his side. A power that, as seen in Miraculer and the New York Special, can be disastrous if handled poorly. And yet, his miraculous actually represents the best part of his life, because it gives him freedom. Being Chat Noir has allowed him to be himself, without the restraint from his father’s presence. It gave him the chance to meet Ladybug who, aside from being the girl he loves, is also his best friend. The miraculous has just… given him a chance to live.

Adrien’s ring is his saving grace.

On the contrary, Kagami’s ring represents the kind of duties she’s far more familiar with. Her ring ties her to her family.

That ring is a constant reminder of the pressure she’s under, of her family’s expectations, of the person she’s been raised to believe she should be. Which is symbolised by her family’s kanji being engraved on the ring.

As seen in Riposte, when Kagami loses any kind of challenge she’s supposed to have been prepared for, she believes she has let her family down.

Kagami’s ring is the lock of her golden cage.

Stay tuned for Part 2!

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aphrodite-would-be-proud · 3 years

Note

How would Mikasa react to waking up to a female!siren singing to her?

Interestingly enough did you know that the original designs for Sirens portrayed them as humans with wings in greek mythology, having bird features like feathers and claws for legs. "Winged maidens, daughters of the Earth" Helen in In Euripides's play

The goddess Demeter who gave them wings for a reason related to her daughter persephone, although if the wings were a blessing to search for her or a curse as punishment for their failure to protect her is...unkown. If someone managed to resist a siren's song, the siren's life will end.

The only people who managed to best their singing are the muses, who plucked their wings and made crowns from the feathers and Orpheus who drowned out their singing by playing the lyre.

It's not until people began classifying them with mermaids that they merged their looks and instead the Sirens took their appearance but kept their backstory, or got known as the "predator" of mermaids when in realty they just target sailors.

Also this request is lowkey a pun since Mikasa's name is originally from a battleship name and Sirens drown ships.

Mikasa waking up to a female Siren!reader

{ Mikasa x Female reader | tw: mentions of death tw: drowning | fantasy, falling in love, angst with comfort | canon universe }

{ "Aphrodite" 1893 by Adolf Hirémy-Hirschl 1860–1933 }

It's burning, her lungs are burning.

Was the first thing Mikasa realised as she drifted back into consciousness, her body felt heavy and her throat burned. Suddenly a heavy pressure was against her chest for a split second before coming back again, push after push, she felt air making it's way to her lungs.

And then the coughing started, pushing all the remaining water out of her body. Her vision returning as she could make out the voice of someone near her.

Looking above her, Mikasa's breath stilled for a moment when she saw a naked women, the most gorgeous women she's ever seen and when you smiled at her staring, her heart jumped.

Trying to help her sit up, you reached for her hand. She instantly reached for her blade before forcing her hand up, sharp edge inches from your face.

"Who are you and where am i" her voice was still hoarse, despite that it didn't lose it's threatening tone.

You look at her, the human you just saved from drowning, pointing the end of the weapon, you just retrieved from the floor of the ocean, at you.

Trying to think this through and not frighten her any further, you open your mouth to talk. The second she sees your sharp pointy teeth, she leaps four steps back.

This isn't going to work, you think watching her eyes widening while taking in the rest of your body. Moving the end your tail in the air, the big colorful fins disract her for a second for you to start singing.

One moment she felt utterly terrfied, cold and confused but the second your voice went through her like silk, it felt as if her brain numbed her pain and worries. Too hyponitzed to notice the sound the blade made as it hit the rocks under, her eyes softened as she walked towards you.

Her steps echoed through the cave, your singing coating her mind in milk and honey as she realised again how absolutely beautiful you are, how lovely your skin looked without anything to cover it, how mesmerising your tail was.

She wanted to see you up close, to touch you again, to have your hands on her chest again. She was hooked on your voice.

When you squeezed her shoulder she melted under your touch, when you stepped closer her eyelashes fluttered. She followed you to the edge of the cave, sitting right beside on on the cliff as waves crashed against the sharp rocks under.

You could sing her to jump and she wouldn't think twice about it. But you didn't, no instead the end of your tail wrapped around her legs, securing her in place and making sure no wave will dare make her fall.

The singing stopped, but the molten sugar her brain was swimming in didn't. You asked her what's the last thing she can remember, attempting to help before the effects of your voice wear off.

Her dark eyes stared into your glowing ones, just as confused as before but willing to co-operate this time.

What's the last thing can Mikasa remember...well she remembers her name. She also remembers the feeling of cold air and dry sand, she remembers walking miles down the beach at night, hoping the sea could drown her sorrows. With no Titans to worry about anymore, her worries for her friends grew more and more.

It's easy to protect them against a flesh eating gaint, but could she say the same when it comes to protecting them from their own minds?

She remembers the stars being her only company on the long walk, that was until she saw a figure leaning against the rocks in the sea.

Who in their right mind would attempt something so dangerous, she thought. They could die, were they attempting to...

and so she didn't hesitate in jumping after them, ignoring the freezing water while pushing her self towards the figure, hoping to pull them into land.

But she underestimated just how deep the water was, having only been in shallow parts before she didn't realise how dangerous it is when she couldn't feel her feet touching the ground anymore. The sea having no remorse or pity on her before dragging her down under, waves setting off her balance as salty water filled her lungs.

Burning, her lungs were burning.

Horror settled in her eyes, she could still taste the saltiness in her mouth, she could still feel the pressure of water dragging her down, too much, it was all too much.

And then your hands were holding hers, and the storm in her mind calmed down. She felt like she could breath again just by looking at your eyes, she was alive.

"You saved me" it was her turn to squeeze your hands, bringing them to her face. Your thumbs wiped away the salty tears before they could reach her lips.

You held her as she cried her heart out, part because of the horrible experience she just went through, another because of the ghosts of fears and responsibilities on her shoulders. As she sobbed in your chest, mentioning some names you've never heard before. Asking them to forgive her for not knowing how to help, for not being strong enough to protect him from himself.

You don't ask who Eren and Armin are.

Running your fingers through her silky dark hair, it calms her down. She doesn't let go of you and you find the warmth comforting, her grip is surprisingly strong as if she's worried you'll slip between her fingers.

Getting her composer back together, she silently thanks you. The moon is still up and the night is still young, and so she doesn't attempt to leave or move away. Instead she leans closer, her face inches from yours that you could feel her breath against your lips.

"Could you...sing to me again? Please."

You nod, she gives you the most heartwarming smile you've seen before closing the distance between you slowly, almost as if she's giving you space to pull away. You don't.

Her kiss was soft, delicate even, like she's never been kissed before and when you kiss back she becomes putty in your hand. Her mouth taste salty but you don't mind it.

When she pulls away, amazement in her eyes as if she just discovered a new secret to life, she whispers a small thank you.

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turtletimewriting · 3 years

Text

Tickletober- Day 14 Holding it in

Summary: Mai brings back a childhood game!

Note: Day 14 was the day I got up to during the last tickletober!

Day One!

Previous Day!

_._._

The waves gently crashed on to the shore and a few distant birds chattered away. Mai was leaning against his back as she flicked through her book. Distantly, he could hear Katara and Sokka screeching at each other but they were probably fine. Aang would shout if one of them drowned. The sun felt incredible as he simply laid back and took in the peaceful moment.

“AH!” Zuko yelped.

Mai’s sharp nails gently pinched his ribs. Zuko glared over his shoulder, but Mai only looked on with a very proud smirk. She moved so she bracketed him in, her legs on either side of him and her arms circling his waist. “Don’t you remember what we used to play?”

“What?” Zuko managed to get out before he yelped again. Her hand slowly circling around his side. He sat up straight with a wide expression.

“When we were bored kids… You really don’t remember?” Mai asked as boredly as she always spoke. For some reason, that made Zuko all the more nervous.

“No?”

“Well, it was some game we made. I think Azula started it first to make you embarrassed,” Mai explained casually as if she wasn’t now spidering his nails up his sides, past his ribs, and pushed aside his arms to feather up to his pits. Zuko tried squirming, his breathing now very stuttery, but he tried desperately to remember whatever she was talking about. But her words kept slipping from his concentration. “She’d challenge you to see how long you could go without showing you were being tickled. You were too competitive even as a stupid snotty kid.”

Then Mai suddenly snapped his hands to squeeze his knees that were folded up to his chest. Zuko let out a strangled yelp and immediately tried to kick out his legs. His laughter burst from him without much thought.

“Hah, I win,” Mai teased as she scribbled up his legs before dropping it, going back to her book.

It was then that the memories finally hit him all over again.

It had indeed all started from Azula. She found it absolutely hilarious that her big brother was very ticklish, even though she was as ticklish! So of course, she was going to show off for her friends. Mai and Ty Lee both giggled like the silly little girls they were at the time as Azula called Zuko over and then immediately pounced on him. He had spun around and tried to kick her, but he couldn’t hold in his laughter. He was soon cackling like a theatrical villain.

He couldn’t remember when it turned into a game for the three of them. It had started with Zuko trying to hold in his laughter so not to come across like a baby to his sister’s friends, but it quickly turned into the four of them tickling one and if they could hold in the laughter and not flinch then they would win. If they exploded into laughter or kept flinching or squirming, then the ticklers won. It was how they passed time sitting during all the boring ceremonies they had to attend or when one of them got bored randomly when they were all playing.

Instantly the memories came flooding back. Mai and Azula tickling his legs under a table and him chewing on his sleeve to hide his smile. Ty Lee blushing neon red when they all tickled her tummy while she was doing one of her circus moves. The first time he heard (that he at least remembered) Mai’s squeaky laughter as she finally lost it. The amount of weird looks his mother would give him and Azula as they both tried to tickle each other during dinner.

“That’s not fair! You can’t just play that game when I had no time to prepare!” Zuko finally said.

“Uh, that’s the point of the game? If you knew it was coming then you would always win,” Mai replied without even looking up.

“B-but I completely forgot we even did that game! No. Rematch.” Zuko puffed his chest proudly, not at all realising just what he was getting himself into.

“Rematch?” Mai put her book down again.

“Yeah. I’m older now. There’s no way I can lose.”

“You literally did lose just a minute ago…” Mai smirked as she moved back into her position, boxing Zuko in. She laid her head on his shoulder and made a big deal out of chewing her lip and scouring over his body. Zuko cleared his throat but she still didn’t strike. Eventually she pulled her hands up so they were gently wiggling but she still didn’t tickle. “Hmm…”

“W-what!” Zuko tried to ask normally but it came out as a desperate squeak.

“Trying to remember all your good ticklish spots… It’s been awhile. I didn’t think about tickling you when you came back with Azula so it’s been… almost four years. I know your ribs are a good spot. You used to curl up like a little mouse because it tickled so badly.” As she spoke, her hands fluttered near his ribs. Zuko didn’t even realise he was smiling ticklishly already. “Your neck was always a cute spot because you’d scrunch up and your laugh would go all nasally. I remember if I wanted a challenge as a tickler then I would go after your feet as you weren’t as ticklish there. It was much harder to make you break because it was the soft gently tickles that would eventually break you…”

“JUST DO SOMETHING!” Zuko gasped, finally realising he was already close to laughing.

“Here, I’ll do you a favour. I’ll tickle your pits so no one can see your little weakness…” Mai cooed, her breath tickling his ear. Zuko suddenly bit down on his lip.

He completely forgot that the entire gang were only a bit ahead of them. Aang was now bending water in a huge blob above Sokka who was panickily squealing as he tried to run through the water out of the way. Toph kept glancing over in their direction with smiling confusion.

“Zuko? You’ll need to lift your arms first,” Mai smirked and Zuko could only gulp. No, he could totally do this! He slowly lifted his arms and Mai happily dived back in. His nails immediately scratching his pits, circling around the top of his ribs back into the very centre of his pits. “Remember, don’t react.”

Zuko tried to regulate his breathing but everything came out as breathy silent giggles. His chest bouncing all over the place. “You said you’d win, you can’t move,” Mai taunted.

“I-I’m just… heh leaning forward…” Zuko ground out, leaning forward while gritting his teeth violently. Mai only giggled and quickly changed her tickling to deep digging. “Mai!”

“Yes Zuko?”

“I-I heh hate you!” Zuko squealed but he managed to never let out a giggle.

Mai leaned forward and nuzzled into his face with a slight smile. “Tickle tickle tickle…”

“Mai!” Zuko didn’t even know his voice could go that high.

“Tickle tickle… Oh this must tickle so badly for you to be blushing this much.”

“MAHAHAHAAHAHAI! AHAHAHA!” Zuko then happily exploded into laughter and practically flung himself away from her, rubbing furiously at his pits and ribs.

Zuko was bent over still frantically giggling when he felt a hand clasp his shoulder. He looked up and was met with the bone chilling sight of the entire gang staring at him with wide eager grins.

Looks like the stupid childish game from his childhood was not going to retire any time soon… and gain a lot more players.

#tickletober #tickletober 2021 #tickletober day 14 #tickling #zuko #mai #turtle writing

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ginkgomoon · 3 years

Text

Gavin’s Mini House In Detail 🏡

During the Mini House special events, I obtained all the furnishing items and had already unlocked all the furniture in the home so I thought for Gavin’s Birthday Week, I would share all of the little secrets it contains!

Gavin has four sections of the house including-

Living Room

Loft

Courtyard

Basement

This post also includes MC’s commentary and quotes from special happenings associated with Gavin. Special furnishes will have the coziness points indicated next to its name.

Please enjoy!

Living Room

Soft Stool

The white soft stool next to the tea table.

This stool is a must when Gavin watches soccer games.

The leather surface is very soft, and its height is just right for watching TV on.

Want to know the trend of the soccer lottery recently? How about asking about it?

It seemed to have won all the recent games, and is both happy and lonely.

If his favourite team loses, Gavin will sit here alone. (#sad)

White Sofa

With so many pillows, you don’t have to worry about having no support behind you.

Is the white sofa difficult to clean?

The bolsters are very comfortable.

Curled up on the sofa with soft ginkgo aroma.

“Gavin, do you remember what you told me?”

“I just want to be with you, just like this...”

“You still remembered!”

“I won’t forget what I’ve told you.”

“Then... Do you have anything you want to tell me this time?”

Gavin kissed MC’s forehead gently.

- This special happening (Starry Sky) refers to the Furniture City Date!

White Table

“Gavin’s Pad is placed here too.”

(It has a photo of MC and she says she will change it into the both of them next time.)

“I can add a snack box, but Gavin doesn’t really eat snacks.”

Hallway Cabinet

“Gavin waters the plants regularly.”

“These are often loose change on the cabinet which we can take before going out.”

“The silver ornament is a souvenir I bought when we went to Disneyland.”

The “Wavy Thing”

“I noticed a little “go for it” written on the most recently scrawled page of the notebook.”

“I found a magazine that puts people to sleep in a second, which was necessary for insomniacs.”

Zoombot

The black Zoombot.

Today I’m again busy all over the place saving Zoombot.

It’s a bit stupid and often gets stuck after hitting the furniture.

Makes a buzzing sound when working.

You threaten it: If you hang again, I’ll replace you!

Music Stand

The music stand bought by Gavin.

On it are sheets of music scores printed by Gavin.

It will sometimes think that the small black table next to it is a bit short.

Sometimes Gavin uses in in the hanging chair to record melodies.

Gavin will print the music scores and put them on it to practice.

Flowers on the Wall

Each flower is carefully selected by Gavin.

The front wall stores a variety of flowers.

The flowers on the entire flower wall are all preserved fresh flowers.

Black Table and Seat

Looking at it closely, it is the song that Gavin played last time. (Music score sheet on table.)

It is also very comfortable with the little black seat cushion next to it.

The soft black cushion stuffed with cotton.

My exclusive seat for Gavin’s recital.

I bought it with Gavin when we were shopping at the furniture market.

Hanging Chair/Rose Hanging Chair (Coziness 88)

A great napping spot.

Here in the Leisure Time special happening, MC and Gavin talk about the swing they had in high school. MC is surprised that Gavin knew about the view of the sunset when being on it. He says he “passed by” sometimes. MC notes how the ginkgo leaves danced in the wind. He says, “they were gifts from another person”.

Heart-Shaped Chair (Coziness 28)

A cute small stool and a convenient storage box.

Gavin’s expression was a bit subtle while he sat on it first.

Alternating blue and pink hearts, as it’s a Valentine’s Day limited edition.

Surfboard Cabinet (Coziness 42)

It’s a new surfboard. Bring it next time we travel.

There are also other surfboards. Guess where they are?

It says fly on the surfboard, like I can leap through waves with it.

(THEIR CUTE SHOES ARE NEXT TO IT AHHH)

Blue Lamp

A lamp that always blows bubbles from the bottom to top.

It’s beautiful and dreamlike when switched on at night.

Black Table on the Left

“This looks like the score that Gavin played on the beach last time. I suddenly feel a bit nostalgic.” - This refers to the Slightly Drunken Date!

“I found a picture of an asleep Gavin. He was sleeping soundly.”

Claw Machine and Carpet

A dream-like claw machine. Gavin will add new dolls in it.

The inserted game coins can be taken out from the back of the machine and then reused.

A small black carpet in front of the claw machine.

I bought it together with the large carpet.

Red Bunny, White Bunny, Pink Bunny, Red Bunny, Grey Bunny.

Motorcycles

The blue motorcycle sometimes want to compete with the opposite motorcycle.

The colour of the motorcycle displayed is sky blue.

Maybe its name will be “Azure”? (because Gavin uses colours to individually name items.)

Spring Landscape Display

The landscape has been embedded into the window, like beautiful paintings.

Maybe there is a new world inside.

I can't help stopping to enjoy the view each time I pass.

Is designed for a wider view, improving your mood even when you're tired.

Winter Landscape Display (Coziness 61)

A corresponding landscape should be changed into winter.

Such heavy snow! Frozen river! Unfortunately, they are all fake.

You can enjoy the red maple leaves and snow even at home, isn’t it wonderful?

Loft

Painting

This is a word map that covers the entire wall.

Looking at it, Gavin and I have already been to so many places.

If you want to travel, you can find the destination on it in advance.

I'm willing to create memories with him in many more places.

Chandelier

The current iron style design is really cool.

Shines warm yellow when turned on, warming our hearts.

Display Cabinet

It should have been a wine cabinet, but Gavin doesn’t drink, so it became a display cabinet.

The ‘little things’ between me and Gavin are displayed inside.

It looks empty now, but it will slowly be filled up in the future.

Black Tea Table

A black low table in front of the sofa.

I occasionally work here.

The star and moon deco piece is very beautiful, I picked it with Gavin.

You can put fruits and snacks on it while reading.

The wood texture had a matted quality with the black coat of paint.

Art

Looks cold but is artistic.

Seems useless, but also seems cool.

Greenery

A corner with blooming flowers all seasons, is warm and restful to the eye.

Outside the window is a huge ginkgo tree, and the fallen leaves are like brocade.

I feel like it’s always spring with all these flowers around.

It compliments the scenery outside the window. (They have a ginkgo tree right outside their home!)

Cabinet

Photo framed have karmas from the Starry Date and the Romantic Date!

Decorative Cabinet/Snowman Closet (Coziness 49)

The two little snowmen stared at each other throughout the winter. (Cute little reference to the CN Recovery ASMR.)

It looks like a window at first glance, but it’s actually a cabinet if you look carefully.

And you could open it. Didn’t see that coming right?

Starry Sky Wall (Coziness 52)

Today’s wish… I hope that Gavin…

I will accompany you to see the meteor rain which falls on this Earth.

Every moment a wish is realised, there will be a meteor streaking across the sky.

Dandelion Lamp (Coziness 43)

The lamp looks exactly like the grapefruit during Mid-Autumn Festival.

Like a burning sparkler, shining brightly.

Six light sources, not too dazzling nor too dark.

Festive Decoration Table (Coziness 57)

Although there are two cups of drinks, we can still drink from the same cup.

The sofa in the corner always makes people feel safe.

Although we are only two people, I still chose two long couches.

The letter under the ginkgo biloba leaf, writes a love poem.

All the shopping bags represent his most flawless love.

The wide view allows you to see the scenery in the yard.

The soft white mat was added afterwards.

But it’s always hot under the sunlight, so the curtain is often pulled down.

Basement

Security Camera

You are in a monitored area, please mind your actions.

Bulletproof Glass

It’s not a normal screen, it’s bulletproof.

It's not often that one gets to see such a cool and HARD-CORE transparent screen.

Anyways, curious what’s in this wall.

Sci-fi glass wall in the movies.

The engraved badge is Gavin’s silent pride.

1-2-3... still shorter than it!

Gingko Tree

Seasons slip by soundlessly.

No matter how small their wishes are, they will become seeds and eventually bloom in gold.

All life’s little joys turned into gold.

It guards the serene life here quietly over in the corner.

(Gavin makes ginkgo bookmarks with them for MC. CRIES.)

Corner Resting Area

These action figures are actually pretty fun!

The puzzle is all grown up. It should be able to piece itself back together. (LOL)

(Puzzle) Maybe finish it while Gavin’s gone?

(Table) It sometimes thinks the table is a bit short.

(Chair) It looks hard but it’s actually comfortable to sit on.

Very spacious, but looks a bit empty.

Some decorations should be displayed here.

Sitting on a blanket is also very comfortable. You can also lean on the small pillow.

(Carpet) This is a carpet. You can’t tell, right?

The advanced smart carpet that is warm in winter and cool in summer is awesome.

(The book on the table is called ‘Kritik Der Urteilskraft’- The Critique of Judgement by famous German philosopher Immanuel Kant. It follows after the Critique of Pure Reason and the Critique of Practical Reason- the First and Second Critiques, respectively. The Critique of Judgment constitutes a discussion of the place of Judgment itself, which must overlap both the “understanding” and “reason”.)

“You need to take better care of your health.”

“Who was the one working overnight over the proposal the other day?”

“Alright, we’re birds of a feather, so... so both of us should look after ourselves for each other!”

“Rest assured, I will. After all, it’s different now. I have you by my side.” -Harmonous Compa Special Happening

Gavin’s Workspace

Accompany Gavin though every sleepless night.

This seems… No, I’m seeing things.

All folders are neatly organised and arranged.

A spacious table, with files and reports spread all over when busy.

I no need to worry about waking up from naps due to cold late at night.

I was reminded of some criminal investigation shows I have watched. Come on, Officer Gavin!

If this complicated case is made into a movie, it will be an exhilarating one.

(Computer) A customised large-screen UHD model customised for work purpose.

(Computer) Work exclusive computer, only connected to intranet.

(Computer) The three auxiliary monitors can help keep the data safe.

(Chair) If you want to protect your waist, you should first have a comfortable cushion.

(Chair) if you work long hours, be sure to work in a comfortable chair.

(Board Area) What does it say? Ermm… Cats have nine lives?

“Found a girl crookedly drawn next to a work record when he reached a bottleneck.”

Airplane

This airplane model was assembled by Gavin himself.

The computer says- Agent B-7

Team Operator S.T.R.I.K.E

Location Tracker

S.P.Y Camera

U4V Commando

Gunship Operation

Motorcycle Repair Area

Every vehicle is so cool in its own way!

Hello, you are... Little… Erm… Let me think…

With the strength to lift mountains and the spirit to take on the world! Ha!

The robot arm is actually a simple robot.

For your safety, please don’t linger below it

(Motorcycle) I would like to greet my seniors.

Electronic Control Pad

Responsible for controlling the rising, descending and switches of the entire area.

On Spring Festival, it will say: Happy New Year, Sir!”

Sooner or later, fully automated smart management will be achieved.

Radio Office

It’s an important communication device, and the only disadvantage is that it’s a bit heavy.

It’s actually a satellite phone, and it can receive signals everywhere.

Looks like the palm phone in the 90s. Oh no, I’ve exposed myself.

It looks like an electrocardiogram.

Don’t know how to use this weird device.

A thick laptop that it’s properly shut when not in use.

A cool eagle logo is printed on it.

Gavin used it only for special tasks and it will not be brought out.

LMAO MC DOESN’T HAVE ACCESS-

Courtyard

Corner Seating Area

A courtyard in sunny or snowy days are interested in their own ways.

Sometimes the unfrequented bolsters will envy the knee pillow.

It's’ wonderful when two people are sitting here reading, even if they don’t talk.

Standing barefoot on the soft lawn is very comfortable.

There's nothing nicer than basking ourselves when its sunny.

Binoculars

The white binoculars which you can see things several miles away.

You can use it to watch the stars when it’s not too cloudy.

But star-watching is clearer mid-air.

Seems to be the same binoculars as those in the scenic area.

The binoculars in the scenic area require coins, but this one doesn't.

Outdoor Lounge Chairs

The new furniture I asked Gavin to buy.

Can enjoy the sunlight spa comfortably when relaxing.

Closing my eyes, I feel like I’m lying on a beach.

The soft breeze and warm sunshine. This is life.

Lying on it and looking at the blue sky and white clouds, your mind goes blank easily.

The blue and white clouds-

Leisure Table/Romantic Table (Coziness 52)

Lace tablecloth… I can’t imagine that it was chosen by Gavin.

The elaborately prepared dinner and roses, just for today.

A large sunshade on the balcony. (Black large umbrella.)

Bird Nest (Coziness 37)

Once it was a pair of binoculars, now it’s a bird’s nest.

I bought it just because it was cute, but I’ll consider having pets in the future.

Birds flying by can also have a free meal here.

#mlqc #Gavin's birthday #mlqc mini house #love and producer #mr love queen's choice #mlqc gavin #Gavin week #happy birthday Gavin

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hollenka99 · 3 years

Text

Laying Foundations

Summary: The Blood God gets used to caring for a baby and small child who is getting livelier by the year. Chapter 1 of Blood and Feathers. <<Prologue

Warnings: Very brief emeto reference

It is a rather long journey to his Overworld forest cabin from wherever he'd ended up that caused him to be near Phillip's birthplace. The baby, ever so respectfully quiet until now, bawls as soon as the heat of the Nether seems to register. That or he finds portal travel disagreeable. The Blood God is not yet ready to unveil his latest plan. It is half formed and to be honest, he is completely winging it. He wasn't even sure whether he wished to raise his little project here, in his domain where things have always felt a bit... clearer, or in the Overworld, where Phillip is meant to belong, until the Netherdamned child threatened to blow his cover. All he could do to lessen the risk of being spotted is cover Phillip with his cloak and ignore the tiny talons poking at his skin. Besides, if worse came to worst, he could always glare a piglin down into silence. There are very few who are bold enough to trifle with a violence-centric deity, after all. But they do eventually make it. It then hits him that yes, of course, nothing here was left in a suitable condition for raising a child. There is clutter all over the table for one thing. There is also the remains of some meal he must have had prior to leaving the last time. Forgive him for not caring about trivial things such as cleaning up after himself when he's done that thousands of times over his centuries long life. Cleaning is a futile endeavour anyway. You achieve your result, only for it to rapidly be reversed. It will be worse now that he has subjected himself to a child, a form of life unable to comprehend its surroundings required respect, therefore antagonising their environment in their ignorance. That said, he did have three wolves who were capable of causing a mess all on their own. Perhaps, he ponders, he should have asked Celandine to reserve Phillip for a few days as he prepared the place for another being. It will be fine. Phillip is too young to care as it is. After some strife, the house becomes tidier. A pillow and its removed case are placed in a box for lack of better furniture. It will be as good of a bed as Phillip will get while the god fully adjusts his living arrangements. Caring for an infant is... more work than he had been expecting. And he had been anticipating to be kept busy by the kid regardless. During the first night, everything appears to be a problem. He's been fed, changed, paid attention to in general... all of it pointing to the fact Phillip should be content with sleeping. Then ah, the sword swings. Phillip must finally realise he is not going to see his family anymore. Oh well, not much he can do to remedy that. Also, he must say that for such a small stomach, it certainly seems to need filling often. Celandine checks to see how he is faring and offers advice. One such recommendation is to heat the liquid so that it is served warm. However, this occasionally proves to be a disaster as his sense of 'too hot' has been skewed by Nether standards. Phillip never fails to let him know if he's miscalculated. He knows it's irresponsible but a short trip without the baby through the Nether to collect Krev, Valka and Mort won't do much damage. They leap up at him but he hasn't got time to waste with pleasantries. The trio follow him diligently as they pass the statue of the four of them, narrowly avoid a slip into lava because how many lives must I live before you listen when I say be careful and they still remain at his heels when he steps into the portal. The wolves certainly love Phillip at first sight since they barely allow the god to leave the infant's designated room. Easy, he tells them, get your noses away because he's not a plaything and you won't even get to see him if you crowd round like this. The longer they have to get used to each other, the less agitated Phillip tends to be when not in need of care. It is during these calmer moments that they can be found, for example, reading a book 'together'. More to the point, he reads aloud while Phillip tries to grab pages, wriggles in the crook of his arm or the little boy simply stares up at him. Phillip has also become fond of gripping his caregiver's tusks whenever he is carried. It's an odd habit but it isn't painful or particularly uncomfortable so eh, who cares. Being 7 months old when they meet, Phillip is already on the verge of crawling. This is an issue. He gains the ability to be mobile by the time the Blood God is satisfied the cabin is satisfactory for a baby. This soon devolves into a keen eye frequently being kept aimed at the floor. The god wasn't a stranger to watching his step (a trio of wolves seemingly determined to become safety hazards at times will do that to you) but this was even worse. Do you know how miniscule Phillip is compared to him?! And this is the shortest the god can make himself. He is going to accidentally tread on the infant one day if he doesn't remain vigilant, he is sure of it. Winter proves to be a troublesome time. The cold seeps in through the windows whenever there isn't a lit fire to combat it. He despises the season and most years, he is either residing in the Nether anyway or he stays in his large desert home. Well actually, that place of his in the desert tends to be his usual shelter. It's just that humans (and, by extension, avians he supposes) are so fickle when it comes to temperature. They can never be too hot or too cold, for fear of their bodies' ridiculous way of attempting to maintain thermal homeostasis leading to their demises. Babies... are likely the worst culprits of this, along with the elderly. That was why he chose somewhere milder like this forest when it came to Phillip. Celandine has some thoughts on the matter, given that she is unhappy upon her next visit. "You do realise avians are migratory, don't you? It is, after all, partially how you ended up meeting and adopting him. The cold does not suit him." "It does not suit me either. If he is simply cold, I will keep him by the fire." "Keep him warm." She sternly instructs. Perhaps she is right though. He isn't too fond of the lowering temperatures and Phillip's fussiness seems to agree with him. He drafts up rough blueprints for a house, larger than this lowly, isolated cottage but also nothing requiring the time and resources on par with his massive desert villa. Hopefully, with the builders he plans to hire to construct it on his behalf, it will be ready for them this time next year. Which leaves the more pressing issue of what is he going to do for this winter? Well, he supposes there's only one thing for it. Phillip does not find the heat favourable. He spends his days complaining in his own infantile way or being very quiet when struggling with the temperature. Between the age of 9 to 12 months, his style is very much in the minimalist category. Another dilemma the god has is the fact he never exactly need a reason to keep cool here. Therefore, a water source is relatively far away and the coldest spot on the property is the room used to keep food fresh for longer. Phillip shouldn't really be around raw meat but for the sake of lowering the risk of him overheating, he does become familiar with the storage area. However, it's not as if he lives in there. He does get placed outside in the shade with a blanket underneath him every now and again. Babies will taste test any old thing they can get their hands on and there is no better example of this than the way a crawling infant takes fistfuls of the most abundant resource around him to sample. It's the god's duty to supervise in order to prevent sand from becoming unintentionally integrated into Phillip's diet. He notices birds lingering in unusual numbers in the early weeks of the new year. Low enough that perhaps he hasn't cared to notice the true extent of the local bird population before. High enough that he's sure there weren't this many before now. It's February too which makes it even more perplexing. Disappearing to warmer lands is one thing but surely they don't migrate to barren wastelands such as these. Then March 1st arrives and suddenly it all begins to make sense. Celandine could honestly have been less subtle. Any longer and it would have been an infestation. The goddess lands to the cacophony of birds cheering her arrival. Phillip's absent-minded babbling ceases as soon as his brain registers that she has taken him in her arms. She kneels, a baby in one arm while the other is held out as an invitation. She calls out, asking where the subject of her intentions was and summoning it to come to her. A bird with dark feathers makes itself known. It swoops in, perching on the offered limb. It's not a remarkable creature in any way. It has wings, it has eyes, it... presumably breathes. Regardless, it sets its eyes on Phillip from the moment it comes forward. Phillip himself observes the bird with curiosity, even reaching out to it. "Given that you have completed a year of life now, I thought a lifelong friend to keep you company throughout all the other years you're going to see would be a nice gift. She was born last spring, just like you, and she'll stay with you until it's time for you to go. So take good care of each other." The two are left on the ground opposite each other. The crow (apparently that's what the species was called) appears inquisitive. Phillip, on the other hand, crawls back towards him within a minute. "What's their name?" The god asks when Celandine soon shows signs of leaving. A chuckle. "She hasn't told me." It doesn't take too long after his birthday for the baby to learn how to stand with support. In fact, once he manages the feat once, he seems to become obsessed with it. Soft clicking can soon be heard near various pieces of furniture multiple times a day. It would seem the Blood God had just started to get the hang of dealing with a child at one stage of development when Phillip inevitably progressed onto the next. He learns to walk unassisted out on the grass around their house in June. He'd been warned this part of the infant's development would be slower than a human's but given he wasn't aware of how Overworlder children grew, it didn't bother him in the first place. The 1 year old avian struggles to maintain his balance in the beginning but as the weeks and months go on, the clack of talons on wood grows ever more common. Phillip catches him speaking with his ambassadors one day. The conversation isn't anything serious and honestly, should have been had in the Nether. However, wouldn't you know it, raising a kid requires you to be present in case they need you. So they're here, risking their wellbeing just so Phillip can be entertaining himself in the corner of his eye. The toddler specifically notices them bow prior to taking their leave. When the god turns to head back home, he spots a small figure crouch and punch the earth in an imitation of what he witnessed moments before. "Not the time or place." Phillip looks at him expectantly. He repeats the action. "Oh no, I'm not going to lower myself for you. It's called me being at the top of a hierarchy that you're at the bottom of. ...But you probably won't understand that concept for a while." A brief nod of the head is all Phillip receives. He pouts in response, makes a third attempt, but follows him inside all the same when he doesn't get what he wanted. Learning to speak is a slow process for the child, made even slower by the inconsistency of languages spoken at him. The only one who is monolingual is the bird Phillip got for his birthday. As time goes on and the boy starts to get used to forming words, he frequently points to the animal to say things such as "Am" or "Mimi". It's not until November or so that Phillip begins to refer to her as 'Amica'. It takes the god longer than it should have to realise that this is the crow's name and not, as he initially assumed, the Common translation of the Avian word for 'bird'. Amica it is then. The name becomes one of Phillip's favourite Common words to say. Also around this time, the savannah house gets completed, or at least the bare minimum of it is ready. Any extra rooms can be commissioned to be done in upcoming springs and summers if he so desires. The exterior is acacia with a cobblestone frame. It looks nice, as do the rooms inside. The basement that spans the entire area underneath the building will make for good storage space. Like the forest, there are plenty of trees and open spaces for Phillip to play in one day. With some rope and a plank of wood, he could craft a swing once Phillip is able to use one. He comes to realise that this child has no concrete language. Phillip will attempt to copy his grunts and snorts but nothing his vocal chords can produce is quite as deep or guttural as they need to be. The Blood God has been speaking in a mix of Piglin and Common, very occasionally reverting to Ancient Piglin. It depends on his mood but he has been attempting to raise him bilingual with a subconscious bias towards Piglin. Whenever Celandine visits, she will talk to him exclusively in Common for some reason instead of her own natural tongue. As for Amica, they converse only in Avian. However, the reasoning behind that is obvious. One way or another, he can tell Phillip is getting confused with all the words he has to know at only 2 years old. He will speak in Piglin, pause then make some kind of tweety noise while frowning. The funnier moments are when Phillip forgets himself and speaks Avian to him before realising his mistake when the god doesn't understand him. His tiny brain has to fit a great deal of information inside it but they will get there. Defeating a toddler in battle is very easy. His ward lacks co-ordination, focus and sometimes attempts to procure 'weaponry' that is far beyond his weight limit. The Blood God has been whacked with a stick more times than he would like. As annoying as having his legs be attacked with an inefficient blunt object can be, the kid's giggling whenever he reacts to it in any way does make it more tolerable. The wolves enjoy the results of his pitiful attempts at throwing though so all is not lost. However, all this physical play has a habit of messing up Phillip's wings if they're not careful. It had taken practice for the god to care for the wings to a decent standard. Now it was Phillip's turn to start learning, given that he was growing old enough to gain the dexterity for it. The majority of it is still the Blood God's responsibility because gods know that toddler does not pay self-grooming as much attention as he should yet but his involvement increases all the same. And when he molts over the summer, Phillip makes it clear he doesn't want his feathers disposed of. So the god supposes there's going to be a chest full of old feathers in it now. Who knows, it might be interesting for Phillip to peruse through one day. Each early January, the god has been begrudgingly allowing himself to be called away. Ever since Phillip came along, he's been slacking with this specific duty. He'll be presented with a selection of potential warriors for him to act as sponsor for but he never cares much for choosing the one he actually believes in, as he used to do. Being the Blood God's candidate in the fight used to be an advantage but he wouldn't be surprised if it's becoming a hinderance recently. How can you win if your sponsor doesn't help with your preparations throughout the year? The god would say he needed to sit out on being a sponsor if he could. It's simply not possible. It likewise is impossible for him to safely and discreetly keep Phillip in the Nether for weeks. When the actual tournaments come, he now skips them. He can get away with being absent, after all. It's not like he hasn't sat quarter- or semi-finals out before. The final though and the celebrations after? Yeah... not exactly something he can consider missing, especially given it's him who has to have the winner presented to him then host the party. To solve his problem, he speaks to Celandine. She apparently can't care for him in her own home (something about it not being suitable for mortals) but she can arrange for a couple to temporarily babysit Phillip while the finals are being fought. This time, he returns to house with a sleeping child in his hold. The toddler never says a huge amount regarding his time there. However, that's more likely due to his young age than a comment on his experience away from home. When he's three years old, the god decides Phillip is old enough to start working on fighting basics such as footing and learning environmental awareness. It's nothing strenuous or particularly physical but developing the foundation blocks now will serve them both well in the future. Use of any form of proper weaponry can be left for when Phillip is a little older. As the weeks roll by, the boy begins to really take to it. It requires conscious effort for him to maintain a proper stance when moving around but they can work on it. They both have years to get it right and improve efficiency. As a treat to reward him for his efforts so far, the Blood God plans to make a delicacy he's been wanting to introduce Phillip to for a while. He temporarily leaves him under the supervision of the wolves while he sleeps so that certain ingredients could be collected in the Nether. The fungus (both types, he's going all out) is sliced while he creates a broth with an infusion of wither petals. Mushrooms get thrown in too for an Overworld spin on it. An addition of torn petals completes the dish. When he serves it to Phillip, the boy recoils at the taste which causes him to end up eating wet mushrooms and fungus for dinner as a compromise. Not even an hour later, he is pale, less attentive than usual and holding a bowl due to being violently ill. He wants to dismiss it as food poisoning of some sort, maybe he didn't prepare it properly (he knows he didn't mess it up, not with how experienced he is with the dish) or perhaps Phillip is simply suffering from an undiscovered allergy. He reckons the best course of action is to send Amica to Celandine, she'd likely have a better idea than him. And oh, does she. "You gave him soup laced with wither rose petals? Are you trying to kill him?!" "Of course not." He growls back. "It's just that nobody seems to be writing down 'hey don't feed anything wither related to kids'." "Don't feed wither roses to anyone! How have you been around for millennia but still don't know only piglins have a tolerance to wither poison? Gods above, it is the commonest of common knowledge." Regaining his health is an arduous task for the small child. His body fights it as best as it can but its methods risk leading to severe dehydration. It is for this reason the god is eternally grateful their savannah home is close to a body of water. If he's not checking in on Phillip, he's boiling water or preparing safe food so he can urge the kid to eat. The fever keeps Phillip in bed for days. It's slow, it's messy, it's far from a great time for anyone. But they gradually see it through. Phillip just about manages to get to the other side, albeit feeling temporarily weaker. "He's lucky I gave him longevity as part of being one of my Chosen. /You're/ lucky." Celandine comments when the disaster finally begins to see its end. "Trust me, Blood God, one more miscalculation on your part that's in even the vaguest vicinity of this one and I will not hesitate to deliver him to the caregivers he should be with. The only reason I'm allowing this experiment of yours to continue is my own curiosity. However, I value him seeing 30 years more than how he gets to that age. This is your only warning." It is duly noted. The god thinks it wise to let Phillip mingle with other children. Who knows how he'd turn out if all he had for company throughout his formative years was a couple of gods, three immortal wolves and Amica or whatever other bird is willing to listen to his ramblings. The two of them are fairly secluded but there is a human town not too far from where the house is. With repeated visits, Phillip begins to make friends of the human variety. Most of the young children think Phillip is cool for having wings. They are also of the opinion that having a giant pig-looking man as a caregiver is impressive. One day on the walk home, the kid in his arm, Phillip looks up at him and opens his mouth. "What's a daddy? Coz- coz I was playing with a girl. Then the man was shouting. She said it was um... it was her 'daddy'. What's that?" "A father." "What's that?" "A male parent. So if you grew up and met a woman then had a baby together, you would be a father. Humans use dad and daddy colloquially." "What's-" "Slang." "Okay." Phillip ponders a moment. "Are you a daddy?" Nether damn you, kid. The god groans. "Yes... I suppose I am something like that to you." "Did you meet a woman?" "Well, Celandine is female and she let me take you home with me after I met her so... in a way." "Celly is a lady daddy." He nods. "That's typically called a mother." After Phillip questions whether the two deities have had a baby other than himself (no, definitely not together and the Blood God has never personally seen the point in siring any brood himself), he descends into further enquiries. It gets to the point the god makes an offhand comment about how he wasn't expecting to deal with a questionnaire today. Phillip responds by asking what a questionnaire is. With all that their conversation entails, it should honestly be counted as a miracle they never touch on the dreaded topic of conception. He does not, however, escape Phillip's gradual shift to a more informal way of addressing him. At least he's not calling him 'Sir' as if it's his actual given name anymore. Over the last few years of parenting, he has learned the quietest moments are the most suspicious ones. If Phillip is not chattering away to himself as he plays in the main room, he is likely running around outside with the wolves or engaging in conversation with Amica. That is to say, he is making noise one way or another. So when the god comes to the realisation he hears nothing on a day in early summer, it is safe to say he is concerned. He discovers Phillip standing on a low branch of a tree. "What are you trying to achieve with this?" The boy glances up. "Oh hi, Daddy. Celly said I was gonna fly. I gotta be 4 or 5 or 6. I'm 4 now so I'm gonna fly now." "I'm not sure it works like that. It's more to do with how large your wings are. They have to be able to support you in the air." "I'm 4." He holds up the appropriate quantity of fingers as if they will emphasise his point. "Celly said my wings are getting super big." That would not be how he would describe the size of those limited things. "They are growing but really, Phillip, you should be careful. I highly doubt you are ready yet." "Watch this." "Don't." He warns. "Get down from there." Phillip grins as if he's thought of the perfect scheme. "Okay!" He leaps from the branch, wings spread out. A second later, an 'oof' of a body hitting the ground is heard. The drop was too short to particularly do any damage (or, in fact, provide enough time for the wings to accept the wind). However, the young boy breaks into a fit of bawling as if he's hurt himself. He's seen stupider injuries over the centuries so a part of the god does not dismiss the possibility Phillip really has caused himself harm as a result of this stunt. Luckily for both of them, it's simply the typical 'small child acting like the most minor inconvenience is the end of the world'. It becomes a long summer of keeping an eye out for Phillip potentially attempting to repeat his actions. Practice may make perfect but the child will never take the skies if he breaks all his bones first. The kid begrudgingly adheres to the rule that he will not perform any flying-related activities without supervision. He often complains that he can't practise flying if he can't jump from a high enough spot to try. The god has none of it. Instead, he suggests the boy flap his wings to imitate flying while standing firm on ground as a better alternative. Phillip becomes a self-declared 'expert' at this soon enough. "Savannah, savannah, savannah." Phillip chants, hopping with his arms raised in an attempt to grab the god's hand. A bag is abandoned by his feet and he continues to pay it no heed in favour of badgering his father. He doesn't know why the child sees the need to jump for it. His current height now has him being not quite the length of one of his legs. Phillip is capable of taking his hand if he so desires by simply lifting it up all the way. "Yes, we are going to the savannah, hold on a minute." They both know the drill by now. In the final week of October, they travel to the house in the midst of the savannah. They return to their forest home as March sees its close. Each time, Phillip must cover up to obscure himself from view as he is carried through the Nether. The Blood God himself has a cloak of his own to further shield the child. This is arguably the first year Phillip is able to walk beside him since he can now reach the god's hand but for the sake of making things easier for everyone, the boy will be held during the trip. Most piglins have no reason to bother him. Even those tasked with helping him manage things from the ground on his behalf seem to have developed an unspoken rule to let him pass undisturbed if the path he takes leads him away from his manor. The moment Phillip is allowed on his feet upon their arrival this year, he sprints to the door. During one afternoon in February, he notices Phillip busy with the swing outside. He doesn't entirely understand the entertainment value in winding it up then spinning but if it amuses the kid then whatever. Amica seems to be keeping him company so that served the god well. He thinks this would be a good time to start carving this acacia wood he has lying around into a blade and handle. Because what 5 year old boy wouldn't want a sword for his birthday? And what god of war and blood wouldn't eagerly anticipate the day he can begin training his protégé properly?

#dream smp #technoblade #philza #kidza #my writing #blood and feathers

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starry-sky-stuff · 3 years

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Find the Word Tag

I was tagged by both @chishiio and @sleepy-night-child and took words from both.

My words were: quiet, high, lean, shadow, and point

Quiet:

In Want of a Wife:

“I want to be a husband and a father,” Laurence said. “I want to live quietly and love well. I have no higher ambition than that.”

“I noble ambition, I think,” Cecily replied.

Want:

A Flame in the Forest:

Olga had no more choice in her life than Mariya. The poor didn’t get to have choices. Her mother had married men she didn’t want to put a roof over her head, bore children she resented because it was expected, spent her days toiling away with no expectation of reprieve other than the life her children would one day give her. Had she once had dreams too? Mariya could not imagine what they were. But she also couldn’t imagine wanting to afflict your own sufferings on your child.

“Our parents dreams for us are always about the lives they wished they’d led,” Aruzhan said. “If your mother wanted you to be wealthy it’s because she wasn’t.”

"I was never wealthy. My husband was. There's a difference."

High:

A Flame in the Forest:

Vladimir volunteered for the army because as a younger child with four elder siblings and little opportunity to pursue university education, the likelihood of him being conscripted had been high. And volunteers had better terms. They didn’t have to live in barracks and served in the reserves for only twelve years instead of seventeen.

Lean:

In Want of a Wife:

Lord Pemberton nodded and lifted up his hand. Nellie moved to stop him, but before she could he stroked the bird softly. It cawed lightly, leaning it’s head into the Duke’s fingers.

“Huh.” Nellie cocked her head. “Funny, he usually doesn’t like strangers. Or men, for that matter.”

“Lord Pemberton must be an exception, then.”

Cecily snapped around to face Laurence, now standing beside her. She narrowed her eyes in suspicion, looking him up and down. Her eyes caught on his right hand and its bloodied forefinger. Laurence noticed her gaze, and quickly hid the hand behind his arm.

“And what are your bird’s names?” Lord Pemberton asked.

“Arson and Larceny,” Nellie replied. “I have two others back home.”

“And what are they named? Murder and Trespass?”

“Fraud and forgery, my lord.”

“Well, Miss Stalworth, you’re certainly more interesting than I previously thought,” Laurence remarked.

Cecily elbowed him sharply in the ribs, casting him a dark look. Laurence merely grinned back.

“And the cat’s name?” asked Lord Pemberton.

Nellie sighed like it was an immense tragedy. “Mr Tibbles. My brother named him and he’s not very creative.”

Shadow and Point:

A Flame in the Forest:

Mariya grabbed the rifle and quickly settled it in her grip, eyeing the creature down the barrel, her gaze not moving an inch. The creature slowly moved through the shadows until she could see a nose, then a mouth, then the outline of a face. It looked like a woman, but one couldn’t be sure of anything in the forest. She had long, curly black hair falling around her in a halo, standing out against her free-flowing feathered white dress. She was tall, with mesmerising features and brown skin that seemed to glow.

A samodiva, she realised. Beautiful creatures who inhabited the forest and tempted men to their doom. Or, at least that was how the stories went. Mariya had yet to hear of any actual men falling prey to their lures. It was said that if you happened upon their dance you would be unable to stop yourself from joining, and once you started dancing you couldn’t stop until dawn. At that point the person would fall dead of exhaustion.

Once again, Mariya had never actually heard of anyone dancing themselves to death.

In Want of a Wife:

“And nor should you. A marriage is an investment, its foundations need to be diverse,” Aunt Minnie said. “You do not marry a woman for money alone, just as you do not marry her for beauty alone. You should marry someone with whom you get along, someone you respect. It is not a decision to be taken lightly.”

“Do you really think I would rush into such a thing?”

“Rushing into things is rather a habit of yours.”

Laurence had to concede her point. He was reckless and impetuous by nature. Always jumping before he looked. He’d broken enough bones and grazed enough knees whilst under her care for Aunt Minnie to have a decent enough idea of just how impulsive he could be. But he was determined not to be impulsive in this. For once, he would make a careful, considered decision.

Tagging: @drippingmoon, @zmlorenz, @inkovert. Your words are forward, rain, appreciate and corner.

#my writing #my wips: a flame in the forest #my wips: in want of a wife #writeblr

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emelywrites · 4 years

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Soulmates Not Sole Mates

Summary: You wake up the morning of your eleventh birthday with a timer on your wrist. That does not come as a shock to you. What does confuse you is the fact that you have three timers, not too far off from one another.

Warnings: Just fluff :)

A/N: I looked up how to turn into an animagus on harry potter.fandom.com and I know more about that now than I do about my law classes

Series Masterlist

Chapter 4

Over the next weeks until the end of the term we were all sitting together to figure it out. Turning into animagi so Remus wouldn't be alone on full moons. This year in transfiguration we had learned about animagi. They could communicate with actual animals as well as werewolves and it helped them calm down, despite it being a gruelsome process to aquire such skill of transformation. Now that Remus knew what we were doing he helped us immensely since he was the best out of all of us after all. He still wasn't quite so sure but after about three weeks of constant reassuring, lingering touches and loving kisses we convinced him that it would help him and we would do anything to make it easier for him.

The day before the lightning storm I felt nervous. I worried that we hadn't properly gone through all the steps so my soulmates had sneaked me into their common room. I was laying on a couch with my head in Remus' lap as he was playing with my hair. I did the same with Lily's who was lying on top of me with her head on my chest. James was sitting on the floor in front of the couch, my free hand on his chest as he leaned against my arm and read some muggle novel Lily had given to him.

"And you all did the spell every day? And you pronounced it correctly?"

"Y/N, stop worrying so much. Yes, we did everything correctly and if we didn't we'll wait for the next storm", James said, squeezing my arm.

"Yeah, right, 'cause those happen so often, darling. I just want this to work. The mandrake leaf tasted disgusting and it made everything I ate taste disgusting. I really wouldn't want to do it again, of course I would for you, angel. We're just so far in now, if one little thing failed that would-" Lily leaned up and shut me up with a kiss.

"My love, stop worrying, if we do fail, you'll just be disappointed twice, so let tomorrow show if we suceeded or failed and tonight we'll focus on the good stuff. James, dear, why don't you read to us? It is my favourite book after all."

"You know, Lilyflower, I'm getting a hunch this is a children's book with all of the pictures", James said, showing us one of the drawings in the book.

"The little Prince", Remus noted, "It is, theoretically, but everyone should have read it at least once in their life."

As James started reading to us Lily put her head back on my chest and we all resumed our little caresses. I felt myself drifting off to sleep.

The next morning I woke up to the sound of rain and thunder outside. It was very early in the morning and all four of us hadn't moved much since I had fallen asleep. I took a glance at the grandfather clock in the corner of the Gryffindor common room. It was only five in the morning but we had to get this done now.

"Wake up, guys, come on, let's get this over with." My soulmates groaned in response. James was the first one to actually wake up.

"I'll go wake up Peter and Sirius. Wait for us." James was the only morning person in this relationship and I honestly admired him for it but I now realised that I much preferred cuddling with my loves just a smidge longer.

Though by the time the three marauders, as they called themselves, came down we were up and ready to go. I took my bag that had the potions inside that we brewed during the last full moon, as the instructions said. We went outside into the storm and hadn't even gone two steps before we were drenched. I handed out the potions.

"Bottoms up", James said with a look of disgust.

It tasted weird. Dry for some reason. The feeling it left in my mouth could be described as an equivalent to morning breath when you had forgotten to brush your teeth the night before, just somehow worse. Then I felt myself shrinking and I needed to cough, black feathers coming out of my mouth. I closed my eyes and when I opened them again I was standing in a group of animals and Remus. I opened my mouth to yell "It worked" but only a "caw caw" came out. I was a bird, a raven. Intelligent, playful, mythical creatures. I liked it. The dog barked in response and I was certain that it had to be Sirius. When we were talking a while ago about what we might become, we had unanimously decided that Sirius would become a dog, we weren't that sure about anyone else.

I had a gut feeling about the stag and the horse as I flew to sit on Remus' shoulder and nudged his face with my beak. He chuckled and caressed my small face. "Merlin, I love you guys."

@fanngirl19 @goddessofgames @prettysatan @bi-idiot-fanfics @lozzybowe

#harry potter #lily evans #james potter #remus lupin #lily evans x reader #james potter x reader #remus lupin x reader #soulmates #soulmate au #polyamory

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inber · 4 years

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Just a Girl, Part One

Hello! I used to write short stories, but it’s been… a good eight years, so I’m horribly rusty. Forgive the rust. Halfway through proofing this, I realised I changed tenses 3/4 of the way through, which is something I struggle with, so please forgive any janky grammar (I tried to fix it!) I am in love with the Witcher series, and I am in love with all the fan fiction being written, and I felt compelled to contribute. I originally intended for this to be quick smut, but it turned into something else. The smut will be in part two, if there's interest! Leave some love if you want me to keep writing, I am fueled purely by attention. Pairings: Geralt x Reader Warnings: Some mention of medical things, some nakey Geralt. Honestly, very tame. Angst & self esteem issues (on everyone’s part). Word Count: 5543. It’s long, I ramble, I’m sorry.

It had been close to a decade since you had last seen the White Wolf.

The last time fate had seen fit to cross your paths, you had been coming into your nineteenth year, all long limbs and quick temper; you were a slip of a girl shadowing your mother in her business as a healer. You’d known boys as disrespectful brutes that stole pinches of your backside when you were bending over to fetch apples at market, or as youthful romantics that would promise you the world between stolen-ale kisses, only to stray from your side as soon as another girl came into womanhood. Boys were a constant, and you learned how to fend them off early into your teens with the instruction of your no-nonsense mother and the help of your long-gone father’s old silver dagger – one of the few items you had left of his that your mother had not burnt or sold.

Yes, you knew of boys, but you hadn’t known of men until Geralt of Rivia crossed the threshold of your modest village house one crisp autumn afternoon.

Your mother had been out the front, as was the norm, leaving you to the more tedious tasks of keeping inventory, crushing herbs, hanging fresh bundles up for drying, and so on. The chime that guarded the door cheerfully sung as the Witcher pushed the door open, and you would not have bothered to poke your head out to look at the customer, had you not heard him speak.

“I have been bitten.” His voice was like crushed velvet meeting stone; like the rasp of a cat’s tongue, all rough barb with intention hidden in monotone. It was deep and enthralling and it was those four words that beckoned you to stand from your work-stool and hover in the doorway so you could see who spoke them.

Your mother partially obscured your view of the man, busy as she was seeing to his affliction, but she could not shield you from the view of his handsome leonine face; all sharp angles, dirtied and stubble-kissed, with snowdrift hair greyed by dirt and road-travel sneaking out from the leather strap which, you imagined, had once held it away from his features. You hadn’t realised you’d gasped until he looked over at you, and fixed molten-gold eyes upon your own. It felt like the world had shrunk down to a pin-point, to that moment between the two of you, and there was nothing beyond the thrum of electricity that pulsed in his stare and the fragile bird-feather beating of your heart.

And then he quirked a thick eyebrow at you in question, and you blinked your dry eyes and felt yourself colour crimson from the tips of your ears to your booted-toes. Hastily, you grabbed the first available object to make yourself appear busy, fidgeting with the vial your fingers had snatched.

“…should not have left a wound with basilisk venom untended for so long.” You caught the end of your mother’s sentence, finally tuning in and realising that this mysterious man, enormous as he may be, was in a bit of a pinch. You looked at him beyond the vision of his gorgeous face and realised that he was indeed quite ill. Sweat dotted his brow, and every now and then he’d sway, as if intoxicated, although he did not have the look of a man keen upon drink.

“I just need an elixir or two, perhaps a poultice, and I will be fine.” He gruffly rebutted, and inwardly you winced. Nobody back-talked your mother without consequence, especially a man, and you tried not to smile as you heard her clear her throat.

“Will you, Witcher?” She returned, her words were coloured with amusement, “Because I’d place your fever at… hmm, several degrees above ‘already in trouble’, and that second injury you’ve been trying to mask,” A gesture to his leg, “At two days before gangrene – three, if you’re very lucky. A poultice won’t cut it.” Your mother placed her hand on her cocked hip and looked up at him. You knew the stare she was bearing upon him; you’d been the recipient of it on more than one occasion.

This man – no, this Witcher, you’d since learned – pinched his teeth together and tried to stare your mother down, but it was fairly obvious that his mental faculties were suffering at this point, too. “I imagine you wish for me to stay, to get the most coin from me that you can. Is that it, healer?” It was an accusation, and a strike two for the warrior. You almost didn’t want to watch. Almost.

“I heal people,” Your mother’s words were that of a whip, quick and biting, “I do not rob them.”

“Hmm.” He replied, as if bested. You expected more.

“And to prove as much, I’ll treat you for the price of the potions and the poultice you might have bought. Including your board and meals, until you are healthy to my satisfaction.” Her voice had suddenly softened, and you were all but floored. Your mother never relented, not for anyone. Of course you had heard of Witchers, the tavern-talk about bright-eyed monsters that stalked other monsters, but you’d considered the tales rather lofty and had never paid them mind. Now you wondered what was so special about this individual that your mother might make exceptions for him.

“Y/N!” She called, and you fumbled with the vial, saving it from becoming pieces upon the floor by a hair, scuttling out from your hiding place to stand behind her. “Take this man’s things upstairs to our treatment room.” You exchanged a sidelong look with her – of course she’d known you were eavesdropping – and with a rueful half-smile you curtsied.

“I can manage them.” The stranger insisted gruffly, shouldering his belongings possessively as you went to touch them. Again you met his gaze, and again you swallowed thickly. “But I would appreciate it if you saw my horse taken care of.”

“Horse?” You parroted, like a simpleton, until you glanced out the window and caught sight of a chestnut mare patiently waiting, untethered, trained like a well-behaved dog. Your work-horse would have wandered off by now to eat the neighbour’s garden. “Oh! Yes, sir. I shall see her stabled immediately.”

As you went to make good on your word, he spoke again, halfway up the stairs, your mother leading him. “Geralt.” He corrected, “I am no knight.”

“Oh.” Again, reduced to single syllables, with your hand on the doorknob. “Geralt, then.”

There was a smile in his eyes, but not on his mouth. “Take care of Roach.” It was a command, delivered kindly, and you stared shamelessly as he moved again, his steps graceful, until your brain re-emerged from the hormones it had been buried beneath and demanded that you carry out your job.

You had always been good with animals, and this horse was no exception. “Roach, is it?” You asked of the mare, taking her bridle and smiling, “A peculiar name he has given you, but it seems he is a peculiar man.” You walked her towards your small stables where your lazy grey gelding was currently half-dozing, and noted that she could do with a good brushing. Once within the warm structure, you lead her into a stall – reprimanding Pebble, your horse, for nosing her – and poured out feed into a trough, as well as a splash of fresh well-water. You picked up the tools to see to her grooming and hummed as you worked, brushing down her coat, working the tangles from her mane, and checking her shoes for stuck debris.

She was docile and seemed to enjoy the attention, only glancing up from her feed to whicker at Pebble, who was suddenly jealous that he was not getting brushed – even though the idiot hated grooming time – and it did not take you long to have her clean and content. From the supply cupboard you plucked out two over-ripe apples and brought them to each horse as a treat. “Be good to Miss Roach, Pebble,” You told him, letting him snatch the apple from your hand, “She is our guest.” He snorted at you as if he understood, but you just hoped that the bribery would work, and the two would not bicker in the stable. It was not terribly large.

The sun had long set by the time you emerged, dusty and tired of arm, and you entered your house again to find dinner set out for you. Your stomach rejoiced at the sight of the cold cuts of meat and the generous wedge of sourdough bread, but before you could try and sneak it away to your room to stuff your face – and press your ear against the wall in an attempt to hear the Witcher – your mother appeared, clicking her tongue.

“That man is as stubborn as they say.” She mused, mostly to herself, wiping her hands on her apron. It was smeared with various oils and scented herbal pastes, as well as bright spots of blood. Suddenly you were annoyed you had missed out upon the chance to learn how to treat a long-standing basilisk infection, demoted to the rank of stable-girl instead.

“Mama, what makes him so special?” You asked, tearing a piece off the bread and sticking it in your face. “Why’d you let him stay for free?”

“Don’t speak with food in your mouth, little bird.” Was her answer, before she frowned, and wiped a smudge away from your cheek with her thumb. Perhaps she’d just spent hours tending to infected wounds, cutting away flesh, sewing skin together, but aside from her stained apron she was as meticulously groomed as ever. You wished you could present like your mother, the beauty that she was, but you had too much of your father’s carelessness. At least, that is what she’d tell you – after first denying her beauty.

“He is Geralt of Rivia.” She finally did tell you, as if you hadn’t already discovered that information. Your blank stare made her sigh, and she pottered about the kitchen, preparing another plate. “Not all of the tales the drunkards tell are tall, Y/N. He is the White Wolf, a slayer of evil beasts. A friend to us. A Witcher. He does the jobs nobody else wants to do, and it keeps us safe.” A plate was set down before you, laden with your best cheeses and meats, as well as the last of the grapes. “A Witcher much like him killed the wraith that took your father in the forest. I have nothing but respect for his kind.”

Your mouth hung open as she divulged this secret; rarely did she speak of your father, and rarely did you ask her to. When he’d vanished, she’d nearly come undone completely. The only way for her to move on from him had been to purge his memory from the house, and to wall off her heart. Never again would she love, you’d heard her swear one night, after too much strawberry wine. Never again would she hurt like this.

“Close your mouth before a fly gets in.” She instructed you, but her tone was lighter, and she shook her head. She could tell you wanted to ask eight hundred questions, and you could tell she didn’t want to answer a single one. The plate was pushed further toward you.

“Mama–” “Y/N, the Witcher needs food to recover well. You will take this up to him, and you will make sure he eats. Whilst you are there, address his fever as you have been taught.” A simple task, and an end to the conversation. You sighed melodramatically, but snatched up the plate and the pitcher of water placed before you.

You took the stairs two at a time, as was your custom, and made your way down the narrow hall to the guest room that served as an infirmary. With no spare hands, you knocked using the edge of the pitcher. “Si– Geralt?” You corrected yourself, “It is Y/N. I have supper.”

No response.

A frown struck your brow, and you skilfully used your knee to open the door, nudging your way inside with your delivery, finding him almost comically taking up the entirety of the single bed, with his feet hanging off the end. The second thing that you noticed was the fact that he was, save for a simple cotton undergarment, entirely void of clothing. Shirtless, he was even more God-like, and you nearly let the water slosh over the edge of the jug as you carried it towards him. He was silent, but watching you, his eyes less vibrant than before. Mother must have given him something for the pain, you thought. Bandages dressed his right forearm and his left thigh, and you could smell the herbs beneath them.

“Roach–” Was the first thing he said to you, and you set the food beside him.

“–is sheltered and warm in our stables, with Pebble for company. He’s a grumpy old man, but, er–” He was doing that thing with his eyebrow again, and you cut yourself off before you rambled. “I have brought you supper. You need to eat.”

“I am not very hungry.” That voice, that voice; even refusing your orders it was as the beautiful roughness of yew bark beneath your fingers.

“I’m afraid it’s not up for negotiation, Geralt of Rivia.” You informed him, almost sing-song; he recognised the message beneath your words, the threat that you’d tell your mother on him, and he grunted, before reaching for the grapes. Satisfied that he was eating, you moved over to the bowl of water and witch-hazel, fetching a clean cloth. There was nowhere on the bed for you to sit, and so you knelt beside him.

“May I?” You asked, holding up the damp cloth, and he shrugged noncommittally. You wiped at the sweat on his brow, effectively cleaning away some of the dirt, and felt for his temperature. Still too high. For something like this, sweating out was the best course of action. You realised this was why mother had given you such a large jug of water.

“Your mother missed her calling as a politician.” He remarked, as you stood up again. When you tilted your head in question, he continued, “She is single-minded. Doesn’t know the meaning of the word ‘no’.”

As you gathered wood for the fire, you had to laugh, although you were sure he meant to insult her. “It is true,” You agreed, “She’s stubborn, and fierce, and she can be cold. But she is the best person I’ve ever known.” Kneeling, you arranged the kindling, and heard him murmur behind you; you were not sure if he agreed, or if it was just a general acknowledgement that you’d spoken. “I hope you are eating that ham, Geralt of Rivia. I want a clean plate.”

“Apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, I see.” He quipped, words just a little slurred. When you struck the flint, he frowned. “It’s already hotter than the noon sun at summer, girl, why are you lighting a fire? And stop calling me 'Geralt of Rivia’.”

Again you struck the flint, and the sparks caught the dry kindling. You blew on them and soon a cheerful fire danced to life, beginning to lick the logs that would fuel it. “I am told I am more like my father, actually.” Standing, you brushed your hands on your apron. “Your fever is too high. In order to break it, you must sweat the poison out. And I am not a girl, Geralt of Rivia.” You used his name like a weapon, defiant and grinning. He groaned, and fell back against the down pillows.

“Figures I’d find a healer’s house full of harpies.” You rolled your eyes at his complaint, picked up a slice of the ham, and thrust it at him. He blinked lazily at you, hesitant, but took the meat and began to eat. As the fire caught and warmed the room, you wet the rag again and daubed the sweat from his face.

Uncomfortable, and apparently shameless, he tugged at the sheets covering him until they pooled at his waist, and you could not help but stare at the map of muscle and scar that was his chest, sweat-slick in the firelight, adorned with coarse hair that your fingers were aching to run through. You had to clench your fist to stop the tingling in your hand.

“You are far too young to be staring at a man the way you are, Y/N.” Amusement wove between his words. He was mocking you.

“I’m not too– I wasn’t staring.” Too quickly you tried to address one of his two accusations, and failed miserably at both. You tore your eyes from him, suddenly very interested in the witch-hazel water. “I am nearly nineteen winters. I will be a qualified healer by my twentieth year.” Some of the water dripped into your lap, but you pretended not to notice. He grunted again, and you began to wipe away the fever-sweat and dirt at his neck and collar, trying to keep your hand from trembling. Gods, could you be any more obvious?

“At least I’m not the only warm one in here.” He jabbed, half-closing his eyes as you worked, and you felt your blush flare further at his taunt. Damn it.

“Eat your ham.” You ordered, crossly, and for the first time he smiled at you. If you weren’t so flustered, it might have taken your breath away, but you were trying very hard to look like a busy, competent, skilled woman – not like the fumbling fool of a girl he made you feel.

Silently, he worked on his plate, and silently you bathed him as best you could, pausing only to refill the basin of water and replenish his jug. Thankfully, you didn’t need to coax him into drinking. It was halfway through the second round of water that he began to finally doze, and you waited for his breathing to become even slower and deeper before you allowed yourself to truly look at him.

He was a roadmap of scars, of stories; each mark was a battle fought and won, and judging by your mother’s praise, each one probably meant lives saved, or bettered. Your hand tingled again, and you resisted the urge to trace them. He was right, really. You were a girl; you knew little of the world outside your village. You knew little of men, and how to get the attention of one. Not boys – not the boys that tormented you on a near-daily basis, Gods you knew enough about them. How did one go about earning the affections of a man such as the one slumbering before you?

Honestly, you had no clue. Asking your mother would lead to a lecture about how men would only hurt you in the end, and all of your friends shared the same tales about boys, the things you already knew. A sigh filtered between your lips, and you got up again to fetch more wood, and more water.

A fever such as his needed to be watched, and judging by the movement of the waxing moon, it was heading into the early hours before dawn. You were exhausted, but you also knew this was a test. This much was confirmed when you passed your mother’s rooms and saw the darkness beneath the door, her lantern long snuffed out. You were to tend to this patient as if she were not there.

When the sun crested over the hilltop, and a rooster crowed distantly, his torment had nearly ceased. He muttered nonsense in his sleep, as you replaced rags for cooler ones and took his sweat-soaked sheet away, trading it for another. Occasionally you awoke him to have him drink, and each time he gulped greedily from the jug, eyed you with a level stare, and succumbed to slumber again. By the time it was mid-morning, you had officially been awake for far too long, but the temperature of his skin had lowered enough to satisfy you that the worst of his fever was over. After fetching him water one more time, you allowed yourself a respite, and dozed on the floor beside him.

When you awoke, it was to his eyes upon you, and you sat up with a start. The light outside told you that it was nearing evening, and the platter of food on the stand beside the bed told you that your mother had just visited, kind enough to save you a trip to the kitchen. You dragged a hand across your eyes. “I’m sorry, have you been awake long? How are you feeling?” Sleepiness made your tongue thick and lazy.

“Not long. Better.” His words were short, but his eyes were brighter, and you noticed he had a piece of cheese in his hand. Appetite returning, you noted. A good sign. You reached for a piece of bread, leaving the more nutritious food for him to take his fill, and gnawed on it as you stood up.

“I am glad to hear it.” You yawned, unladylike and unapologetic, and you made your way over to a wooden basin leaning against the far wall. You loved the infirmary tub because it was so large, but now you were wondering if it was indeed big enough for the Witcher. He seemed to be thinking the same thing as he watched you wrestle it to the ground.

“I don’t wish to trouble you–” His words were gruff, like a small truce, and you scoffed as the large object thudded in front of the fireplace.

“Yes you do, Geralt of Rivia.” Your retort was cheeky, “You wish to come here, to the house of harpies – I’m telling mother to change our name, by the way – and deplete us of all we have. A war of attrition. If we have no food for the winter because mister fancy pants here has eaten it all, the harpies will starve.”

You thought your tone had been light enough, but he grunted in displeasure, and threw the crisp sheet away from his body. “No. I told your mother that there was no need for this, that I didn’t have to stay– urgghh.” He grunted as he tried to push himself up off the bed, and you were by his side in a flash. “Fuck.” The curse was a hiss.

“Geralt, no, I’m sorry. I was teasing. We have plenty – more than enough, actually. Don’t worry. Please.” You looked so distressed that he must have softened, and he laid back against the pillows with a sigh. Relieved, you drew the sheet back up his body. “I’m… well, my mother says I should think before I speak, but I never quite know how to. She is so stoic and graceful and I try to be an example, I really do, but I’m just… well. Just me.”

He listened to you as you fussed, and made another small sound, thoughtful. But he said nothing more.

You went to boil water for the bath, assuring him you’d return as soon as possible. By the time you closed the door, his eyes were already shut.

Filling such a large tub took time, and many steaming buckets heaved up the stairs, but you were proud that you barely made a mess, and you added salts and herbs to the water, wishing you’d get the indulgence. You probably still smelled like horses. “Geralt.” You prodded him, when the water was ready. “Wake up. I need to change your sheets, and it’s a good opportunity for you to clean yourself.”

“Thought that was what you were doing with that rag last night.” He murmured, not opening his eyes, and you frowned.

“No, I was just scraping off the top layer of… whatever you’re coated in. You need a good soak. C'mon, it’ll feel good.” Your voice had lowered to a coaxing coo, and something about it made his eyes open and fix upon you, heat present for a heartbeat, before he relented and began to push himself off the small bed. When he was standing, you went about gathering his sheets, until you realised he was pulling his sleep drawers off whilst you were still there. You cleared your throat loudly. “I’ll just be a moment.” Oh Gods, you wanted to turn around and look.

“I thought you weren’t a girl.” Velvety voice was teasing, again, and something about the taunt made you want to take off your boot and throw it at him. But that would mean turning around.

“I am not.” Ground out words from between tight teeth. “But I value a person’s privacy.”

“And I don’t care.”

“Fine then.” Gods, he was a donkey’s ass, as your mother promised. You finished bundling the dirty sheets and turned around in time to see him sink into the bath with a groan that made you clutch your bundle hand enough to whiten your knuckles. He’s big everywhere. And damn it, you were blushing again. He sighed blissfully, slowly opened those captivating eyes, and caught your gaze. A smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth.

“I’m going to get more sheets.” You declared, almost as monotone as he could be, and forced your feet to move out of the room and to the laundry area. Your mother was there, folding cloth, and she took one look at your bright red face and scoffed.

“He’s just a man, Y/N. You’ll get used to this.” Her words were meant to soothe you, you knew, but you also knew that there’s no way you’ll ever get used to someone like Geralt. Just a man. He’s the only man you’d ever met.

“Mmmh.” You muttered your agreement, almost like a certain gold-eyed guest, and snatched up a new set of sheets, bandages, and towels. “I need to change his dressings.” It felt like stating the obvious had become your shield, suddenly, and your mother leveled you with a searching stare, before nodding. Perhaps she was questioning her decision in letting Geralt’s care fall to you, but it was too late now.

Back up the stairs, you heard the splashing of bathwater, and were pleased that he was actually washing himself. You were afraid you’d have to bully him into doing that, too. He paused for a moment upon your entry, but then returned to scrubbing his good leg.

“I’ll change the bandage on your leg when you’re done. I can change the one on your arm now.” The crisp sheets flew outwards like a sailboat’s cloth, before settling on the bed as you made it up anew. Again, he was silent, but you heard the tell-tale splashing that indicated his dedication to getting clean. Once the bed was neat – complete with blanket, now that he was without fever – you worked up the courage to turn around with your supplies, keeping your gaze above water-level as you knelt beside the tub. His eyes were trained upon you, magnetic, and wordlessly he offered his right arm.

You unwrapped the old bandage, noting your mother’s excellent suturing, and secretly thrilled that she hadn’t asked you to do that part – you stitched sloppily, and mother’s patients always healed slightly faster than yours. You wondered when you’d come into your own like her, as you wiped away the herbal poultice gently, replacing it with another. With care, you began to bandage his arm back up, so that the herbs would speed his healing and soothe any lingering pain. When you were done, your work was neat and tight enough to sit well without being uncomfortable. You chanced a glance up.

He was still staring, but something of his features had relaxed a touch. “You have very gentle hands.”

At this, you smiled a little. “Thank you.” You murmured humbly, placing the old rags in a basket to take downstairs. “My mother taught me well.”

“No.” He corrected, curling one finger to hook beneath your chin, and you felt your lips soften and part with an intake of breath. “A gentle touch cannot be taught. It either takes years of work, or it is a gift. It is your own.”

The idea that he had just gifted you this – a part of yourself that you could boast, separate from your intimidatingly skillful mother – was something so precious that you had nothing clever to say; you were void of taunting retorts and jest. Instead, you just stared at him, glossy eyes wide with thanks, trading breath in the small space between you. His eyes were hooded, and unbidden you leaned forward, brushing your lips against his own, the delicious stubble of his upper lip grazing you–

–until he jerked back, making the water slosh over the side. “No, Y/N.” He said, simply, harshly.

You were left shocked in the rejection, a coldness creeping around your entire body as he frowned and cursed, rubbing his face. “I-I’m sorry, I thought that–”

“What did you think? You thought you’d want to be with someone like me, hmm? You’d want your first time to be with a man covered in bandages and filth? A man who has no home, who has no allegiances, who has no feelings?” Angrily, he shot his gaze to the side. “I would not dishonour you in that way. Not under your mother’s roof. Not whilst you are still just a girl.”

Hot shame pricked tears into your eyes, and thoroughly chastised, you looked at your hands in your lap. You didn’t trust your voice not to waver when you spoke, but you did anyway. “If you have no feelings, then why are you so disgusted?”

“Fuck’s sake, Y/N.” He growled, “I’m not disgusted at you. I'm—” He searched for the right thing to say, and then angrily heaved himself from the water, grabbing a towel to cover himself. Suddenly, modesty was paramount. “I’m not a good man. Not for you.”

Don’t cry, you told yourself. Oh Gods, don’t let him see that you really are just a girl, just a timid scrap of a person; a poor imitation of your mother, and haunted by the genetics of your father. Don’t let him know that you think he’s one of the best people you’ve ever met, that his scars fascinate you, that his life fills you with inspiration. A damnable tear snuck down your left cheek anyway.

Dumbly, you got to your feet, avoiding looking at him, even if you could feel him everywhere – even if you could still feel his lips almost against your own, almost making you alive and real. “I shall get my mother to see to your leg.” Who was speaking? Was that your voice?

“I am well enough to leave.” He’d been pulling on his clothes the whole time; your mother must have laundered them the night before. “I will see her for payment on my way out.”

Like a marionette, your head bobbed with a nod. You heard him curse again, beneath his breath. He paused as if he had something else to add, but then he growled lowly and hefted his bag up onto his left shoulder. You just stood there, too ashamed of what never happened to acknowledge the fact that he was leaving.

“This is for– thank you for– ah, fuck.” Parting words, the sound of something clattering on the table, and then the squeak of the door hinges. The sound made you flinch, but you still couldn’t move.

You could hear the low timbre of his voice as he spoke to your mother, probably thanking her, probably telling her to sell her daughter to the whore house now whilst she’s still worth something, because she’s a rubbish healer. Self-pityingly, you choked on a sob, and placed your hands over your mouth. The front door of your house shut, and it fell silent.

And then you cried.

When there was nothing left but hiccups and sniffles, you cast your bleary eyes to the nightstand, your heart aching but your curiosity still intact.

It was a perfectly round stone, pale grey in colour, smooth and glossy. Upon closer inspection, you saw it shot through with veins of gold. You had no idea what it was, or how much it was worth, but it was beautiful. Your right hand curled tightly around it, and you held it to your lips.

—————————————————————–

He heard you, as he saddled Roach. The guest room window was above the stables. Every sob was another punch to the gut, another reminder that he was as bad as the monsters he fought. He’d hurt you. It was better that he did it now.

Roach’s hooves drummed a steady beat as he walked out of your life.

(Part two here)

#Witcher #the witcher #fanfic #fic #witcher fanfiction #witcher fanfic #geralt x reader #angst #geralt of rivia #netflix witcher #witcher fandom #fan fiction

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lilmissbeanie · 4 years

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Kotaro Bokuto x F!Reader. Fluffy Word Count ~ 1.6k Happy birthday to @wing-dingding have a great day girl! The chorus of cackles and laughs echoed down Fukurodani hallways as Bokuto, and Y/n ran away from Akaashi.

The chorus of cackles and laughs echoed down Fukurodani hallways as Bokuto, and Y/n ran away from Akaashi.

Another prank successfully completed.

The air horn echoed through the building once again as Akaashi and Komi yelled after them. Akaashi hated the mischievous best friends together; this always happens, the other day, they came over to hang out with him at his house and set his alarm clock in his room, and it went off at four thirty-six in the morning. His toothpaste had Orajel put in making his entire mouth go numb for hours. They were all harmless pranks, week in week out continuously finding new ones, how they had not run out of ideas yet was a mystery to everyone. The pranks they pulled on each other were just as ridiculous, just last week Y/n had superglued Bokuto's locker shut, and he had switched her locker with his volleyball one.

They had been best friends forever, their mums were best friends, and these two had been together since they were in nappies all the way to high school, they never left one another's side. "BOKUTO! L/N!" The voice rang through the building, instantly the pair tensed up, turning around to spot the coach.

"Oh, hey, Coach!" Bokuto said, pretending that nothing was happening. The pair stood with their hands linked behind their backs rocking back and forth on the balls of their feet, making you think that these two weren't in their third year of high school or either was the respected captain or the manager of the volleyball team.

"You need to stop with the pranks!" The pair bit back a grin crossing their fingers before nodding. Coach knew though he damn well knew that nothing was going to change, they had been like that since their first year, no matter how many times they get told off or in trouble they will never stop, and he wouldn’t be kicking either from the team seeing as Y/n helped stop the emo modes and she was very good at her job as manager.

Y/n batted the finger poking shoulder away, as she rolled over pulling her duvet closer, "psst!" Her eyes squeezing tighter, swearing this was all in her dream, “Y/n, wake up” she felt her shoulder being shocked, groaning rubbing her eyes as they opened to be met by a pair of golden ones she knew all too well.

"Kou?!" She groaned sitting up, she grabbed her phone, seeing it was three AM on this autumn's Saturday morning.

"Come on! Maccies run!" He cheered quietly, his hand wrapping around her wrist tugging her gently out of the bed. This wasn't the first time he had snuck into her room at some ungodly hour. She left her window ajar for this reason. Her own eyes lit up at the word food, suddenly very awake, allowing him to tug her out of bed, her feet met her soft fluffy rug "let me put some clothes on." Tugging at her short tweedy pie baby pink cotton pyjama trousers and bralette, feeling slightly self-conscious in front of him.

"No need, here." He said, slyly playing off how hot she looked in her pyjamas as grabbed one of his many hoodies she had stolen from him from her desk chair. "We're only getting drive-through."

The pair snuck down the stairs as Y/n grabbed her keys and wallet from by the front door and they jumped into Bokuto's car and headed for the nearest Maccies drive thru. They pair just laughing at stupid jokes, singing along to the radio and generally just enjoying one another's company. Finally arriving the pair order their food before driving to their favourite place on top of a hill where they sit looking over their town lit up with t. Taking a seat on the bonnet of the car, they munched down their food. Bokuto was always impressed by the way she demolished twenty chicken nuggets and a double cheeseburger with a large chocolate milkshake.

The pair sat there watching the stars and enjoying the view, Y/n leaned against Bokuto's shoulder as he wrapped an arm around her shoulder, "I love when we do stuff like this Kou."

"Me too lil bird, me too." Both praying that neither of them could feel the way goosebumps erupted over their skin as they touched or the way their heart raced.

They sat in silence, just enjoying being in each other's presence, but Y/n knew there was something on Bokuto’s mind by the way his eyebrows and he kept fidgeting in place as they watched the sky turn from dark to light, the rosy golden colours painted the skyline.

“You okay Kou?” She questioned gently, making the boy jump, he blinked a couple of times bringing himself out of his thoughts and turned to face her, a small smile spread over his lips. “I was just thinking.”

“Don’t push yourself too hard, you'll hurt yourself.” The h/c girl teased him. Causing the boy to chuckle slightly, shaking his head and nudging her with his shoulder gently. “Just wondering whether I should tell the girl I like how I feel or not.”

Y/n felt her heart tighten, he liked someone. “Of course, you should! Why wouldn't you.” She tried her best to sound enthusiastic and happy for him.

Y/n watched as he shrugged, before replying, “Well I don’t want it to ruin our friendship if she doesn’t feel the same way, she is too much of a good friend.”

Y/n racked her brain trying to work out who it could be, other than her, it could be the other two managers of the volleyball club. “Anyone would be lucky to be with you Kou, you should tell them.”

“If we get to nationals then I’ll tell them.” He nodded to himself with a smile, finally deciding. “So next week.” The girl next to him smirked. His smile dropped realising it would be next week, that was barely enough time to work out what he was going to say. He was going to need Akaashi’s help.

"Kou, whatever happens, I will always be here for you. Birds of a feather flock together as the saying goes and my oath to you is that I will always be by your side no matter what. Okay?"

"Okay" He smiled, resting his head on hers, "Same goes to you, you will always have a home with me."

The week flew by quickly, the inter high tournament arrived in a blur, Akaashi helped Bokuto plan out how he was going to tell and even roped the rest of the team and the other managers in. The day of the final rolled around, warmups ended, and the two girls walked away, leaving the h/c confused, “where are you going, isn't it Yuki’s day on the bench?” The two smiled and shook their heads at her.

“Yea but you are Bokuto's best friend, he’s going to need you here and it’s the last time he is going to play in the high school inter high.” They smiled at the girl before leaving the court and heading up to the stands to watch the match from the stands.

It was a good match, Bokuto emo mode only happened once during the second set and it didn’t take him long to snap out of it, Y/n eyes were trained on her best friend, fuck, he looked hot in his in his volleyball short and those knee pads, Y/n was having to remind herself not to drool at the sight. Of course, Fukurodani won and they would be moving on to nationals. The stands filled with the cheers from their schoolmates. Y/n jumped up from the bench running over to the team, “Kou!” She called out to him. He turns in Y/n direction, his golden orbs filled with excitement as he opens his arms in time to catch her jumping into them, Y/n wrapping around her his broad muscular shoulders, not caring that he was all sweaty from the match and her legs around his waist. Bokuto’s arms weaved around her waist as Bokuto his face buried into her neck inhaling her sweet floral scent as he spun them around, her happy infection giggles floated his ears making him grin.

“Y/n?” He questioned, slowly coming to a stop, he kept his arms securely around her waist not allowing her to touch solid ground not until he had told her, he needed her full attention he needed her to hear this. Tilting her head to the side she watched those golden orbs flicker with hesitation and confidence in them as well. Y/n own gaze held a questioning look as she watched him fight the inner turmoil inside of him, her arms now loosely draped over his shoulders, golden orbs fluttering shut inhaling deeply through his nose. His eyes flickered open meeting hers once again, holding a serious look. “I love you, like I’m in love with you.”

Her eyes widened, as the words filled her eyes, slowly realised what he had said, “For real?” Worry filled his face as he slowly dubiously nodded his head, yes. A shy smile spread over lips as her eyes lit up, cupping his cheeks, Y/n leaned down gently placing her lips against his, enjoying the nervous and timid yet so pure and loving first kiss they shared, before pulling away, “I’m in love with you too.” looking him dead in the eyes, love and adoration swirled in her e/c orbs.

“Finally!” Komi cheers filled the air, shocking the pair as they turned to the sound of his voice realising everyone was watching them, forgetting they were still standing in the middle of the court. Y/n face was buried in Bokuto's neck within seconds trying to conceal the blush that erupted over her face, while Bokuto stood there proudly with his girl in his arms. Akaashi gave him a rare smile and thumbs up, he had got the girl he always wanted.

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#bokuto kotaro #bokuto x reader #bokuto x you #bokuto x y/n #fluff #bokuto fulff #maccies trips #haikyuu!!#haikyuu! fluff #haikyū!!#beanie🏐#beanie💕#beanie✍#beanie🌸#beanie🎶

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malkumtend · 3 years

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Peace, Battles and Deals. (Baypaw x Dewpaw) - characters owned by @lonely-ghost-606

Just a short fic for my friend @lonely-ghost-606 (check them out if you haven’t already!) This story is based on their characters Baypaw and Dewpaw. You may recognise Dewpaw as the abused daughter of the tyrant VioletStar of Willowclan from Ghost’s “Cut the Cord” animatic on their YouTube channel. All you need to know in preparation for this fic is that she is abused emotionally by her mother and is consistently compared to our other main character Baypaw. Baypaw is the son of Cleopatra and Strongheart, leader and deputy of WaterfallClan. He is widely regarded for his strength, as was expected of him by his parents but they do love him, but he is secretly troubled by the growing tensions between his parents as well as emotions he feels he has to keep secret from his clan mates. WaterfallClan and WillowClan are bitter enemies due to tensions over water resources.

With all that said and done. Let’s get going.

I leave when it gets dark. It isn’t easy getting out of the den without anyone noticing, but I manage. Mother and father remain asleep as I quietly step past them into the dark. I can’t help but smirk when I see them asleep. The all-knowing, poweful leader and deputy dozing away while their son runs off, the clan would probably laugh if they found out. There’s a small pride that feels warm in my chest at the thought that I’m besting them in some way. But softly, I begin to take in the bizarreness of what I’m seeing. They’re so close. Silent, calm, asleep besides each other. Even with the noticeable distance between them, it’s still something. It’s better than… My smile drops, and I groan in irritation. I needed to get out of there.

Surprisingly, it’s even easier to get out of camp. The night patrol is nowhere to be seen and I never smell any WaterfallClan scent when I finally leave clan territory. I know I’m far away to be safe when the steady rush of water fades away, leaving me in the welcome silence of the night.

I sigh in relief, allowing myself a deserved grin. Though maybe, I think, it is worrying our patrols are so useless that they can’t keep a single apprentice in. Then again, I wasn’t just any apprentice. Thanks to my parents, I knew the territory like the back of my paw. I’d have to know that much if I was ever going to…

I shake my head again, this time growling, as soon as the unwelcome thought crawls in.

I begin to pace further from the camp. The moon is full tonight, lighting the forest as if it were my own personal guide. Maybe even the stars are being generous because they know who I am. I snicker a little. I don’t let my guard down, of course. I roll my eyes as StrongHeart’s voice fills my head. Never try to take comfort from being alone. When you’re alone, you’re at your most vulnerable. As if I would be so foolish. I know perfectly well to keep fixed for any possible fight; I was a Warrior after all. Besides, it was my enemy who would be sorry if they tried to sneak up on me. I wasn’t some soft apprentice; they’d soon find that out. If they wanted a fight, they’d better know to bring an army.

Still, I keep to the shadows, tasting the air every couple of seconds. After all, it would do no good if I got a few silly wounds. I didn’t want to make Cleopatra suspicious.

When I approach the river, I scent again for any WillowClan patrols. The stars knew those fox-hearts were always trying to take more water than they needed for that mange-pelt they called a leader. The thought of raking my claws on their pelts was definitely tempting, but thankfully, for them, they seemed to be sticking to their territory for once. The line between out territories was broad enough, so it was easy to make my way along without getting too close.

I just wanted to get out of WaterfallClan for a while. I couldn’t sleep and the thought of walk that could help clear my head of any ‘undesirable’ thoughts was too much to take. I’d have just been tossing and turning until some cat woke up and scolded me, it would be best to get out for a bit. It wasn’t like I had anything important tomorrow, just another training session then some hunting. I’d be fine, I could always pass through that stuff in my sleep.

Being tired because of a moonhigh walk sounded a lot better than being tired because I couldn’t stop thinking about the stupid stuff.

I only briefly take my head away from the trail beside the river, but I stop. Just a tree-length away, I could see what might have been a thousand shadowy shapes. They draped down, swaying in the light breeze, so close to the water they might have been stroking it in long green tongues. Behind them, I saw a thick, but stumpy, tree trunk that stood tall, holding its cluster of leaves that hung like thin claws. Willow trees. I’d never seen them this close. They weren’t typically found on our clan territory. And from what I could tell, this land wasn’t part of WillowClan either. I couldn’t catch their reek at least. I walk closer, admittedly a little in awe at how large the trees were. The leaves were soft on my coat and tickled slightly when I brushed past them. The soil was unusually moist and littered with light green leaves that flickered like stones in the small traces of light. The shadows themselves had an emerald sheen that was nothing else but alluring as I padded through the hanging shrubs.

The shrubs weave together as if they were linking tails, crossing their soft leaves, creating a small tunnel as I carry on. I can smell something new coming over me. Something floral, a lot of flowers actually, spicy and sweet. The dampness leaves my paws as I feel the ground become solid, yet smooth. The grass sticks up, fresh and sharp, but they feel like feathers as they brush my fur.

Slowly, the narrow tunnel widens as the willows jet back, letting the grassland expand in a luminous green. The colour is dim but almost blinding when it gleams in the dark. My jaw drops. I’ve never seen a meadow like this before on any hunting patrol. The grassland around WaterfallClan was typically wet and your paws typically sank into a gross coat of mud. But this was crisp, gentle, alluring even.

Approaching the centre of a small hill I can see more colours flash. Flowers, I realise. A wide array of flowers and herbs I hadn’t even seen in the medicine den. I take a light smell at the closest one, its orange petals wide and succulent with nectar, and I almost feel ashamed by the way the gentle aroma makes my pelt quiver.

I look up at the meadow and I’m suddenly smiling. Has anyone ever found this land before? The small prick of doubt makes me purr. It makes me think of how this meadow was mine. My discovery. My place. I am alone under the green sheen of willow, alone with the fresh grass and the delicate herbs. My head buzzes a little, and I am softly aware of my blood becoming warm.

And then I’m laughing.

Not the laughter I craft when I best an apprentice in training, or when a mentor compares their sulking student with me. All those times, I just laughed because I felt there was nothing else I was meant to do.

But right now. I’m laughing hard. Because the suddenness of the glee and the peace makes it so I can’t stop.

I start leaping across the grass, as if the indents of my paws in the grass will mark the meadow as my own. I’m careful to not displace any flowers as I breathe in the wave of smells that stroke my muzzle and vibrate in my throat. With no eyes on me, I relish for a moment. I could fixate on how my heart beats so loud that I can’t hear anything else.

Here I could just have some time to myself.

There were no apprentices I needed to fight.

There were no talks of war with some stupid clan.

There was no worry here at all. Just me. I could take this in all I wanted. And here, that peace wouldn’t be interrupted by the abrupt stab of an argument I’d be forced to witness.

I find myself at the top of the hill and then I’m rolling down, twisting through laughter and grass, letting the memories ooze like dirt in the soil. My throat begins to hurt a little, and my back bumps on a few stray mole hills, but I don’t care. Finally, I’m on my back, embedded in a nest of wildflowers.

There’s some pressing need inside of me to stay there, that everything will stay great if I don’t move. I blink up at the swaying willow leaves, dancing as if they were birds in the sky. My back feels warm, I’m pressing my paws into the flowers beside me, paddling in petals and nectar that don’t break under my touch.

Everything is just natural here. I close my eyes, not bothering to hide my purr. This is something I could get used to.

“What are you doing here?”

The voice is scratchy, intervening, rough and unfriendly. Worst of all, I recognise it.

Of course. My eyes open into the glare. Of all the scum, it would have to be her.

I’m on my paws before I know it, shaking away any traces of flower or dew. My muscles are stiff with adrenaline and panic. The scent of WillowClan immediately attacks me and I bristle with disgusted anger. But it’s the sight of her that makes me growl. She’s there, bristling like me, a treelength away.

When I’ve seen her before at four-trees, she’s always had that same unlikable aura that permeates around her now. Maybe that was why she was always on her own. Served her right for always looking so sullen and moody all the time.

Then again, that wasn’t a shock. If I’d been unlucky enough to be tortured with that thing as my mother, I wouldn’t be smiling either. I couldn’t help but hate her. She looked so much like that fox-heart it was impossible to like her.

There’s a mixture of hatred and confusion on her face. Honestly it might match her fur to some degree. The confusion sitting in the light violet-grey side of her face, while the anger storms in the darker shade that horrifically takes up the other side. I sniff, my anger growing. Her mother is definitely obvious on her.

“What are you doing here?” I demand. The beauty of the area darkens with her mere presence.

Her fangs glint in a crooked way. “I asked first!”

“Yeah?” I scoff, “Well you can answer first too!”

I hear her growl in a pathetic attempt of intimidation. “A long way off your territory, aren’t you? I could practically smell fish from my den.”

“Last time I checked, this wasn’t your territory either, Dew-drop.” I fuel myself on the way her fur spikes.

“Don’t call me that! We’re closer to my territory than yours.” She narrows her eyes even more. “Is WaterfallClan looking to steal more land? Why am I not surprised?”

Now I’m the one who growls. “You’re the thieves, not us! I was just going for a walk, and I certainly wasn’t looking to have anything to do with your worthless clan!”

As if to spite me, she just smirks at me. If she’s looking to get me mad, she’s definitely succeeding! “Don’t you think you should be walking a little closer to your clan? You’re lucky our patrols haven’t ripped off your fur for bedding yet.”

“Pfft! Why would I be scared of your clan?” I flash my claws at her, strengthening up in a way I knew was threatening.

I can see her jaw clench, but her smirk stiffens with another warning blink of her sharp glare. “Careful, mamma isn’t here to keep you safe, river-rat!” There’s a dare to her voice, almost like she wanted me to rip her to shreds. I must admit, with her fur on edge like that, she does look almost like a worthy challenge.

Almost.

“Heh.” I meet her dare with a step forward. “I don’t need back up for any of your scum.�� I’m trying hard to scare her off. As easy as it would be to tear her apart, I really couldn’t be bothered. I came here because I wanted to relax. The sweet scent of the flowers wouldn’t be so appealing if they were coated in the stink of her blood.

But like the idiot she is, she takes another step forward. My teeth clench with aggravation. “Then why don’t you prove it if you’re so tough, big guy?”

Part of me wants to meet her threat with my claws. But I relent. I wasn’t as much of an idiot as she was. I didn’t need to get into some pointless fight over some Tyrant’s spawn. “As gratifying as it would be to put you in your place, I prefer an actual fight.” I inhale the fury that sparks on her face like the warm smell of prey. “I’d get a better battle out of a kit than you.”

“Coward!” She hisses. I scoff.

“Whatever.” I turn away from her, impatient to get back to the other side of the hill. “Do me a favour and keep away from me, eh? Smells better on the other side.” I’m ready to block out whatever stupid mouse-dung that she could come up with.

But she surprises me.

“Oh sure, I wouldn’t want to get in the way of your cuddle time with the flowers. Guess that kittypet blood really did make you soft.”

I’m not sure if it’s the fact that she saw what I wanted to keep secret, or the direct insult against my mother, but my blood is immediately boiling, and I’m suddenly sprinting at her.

I’m satisfied when I see a slight jolt come over Dewpaw as I rush at her. To her credit, she doesn’t run away. She pounces at me first, but that’s her first mistake. I slink down onto my belly, using my pace to push me underneath her as she whirls over my head. She doesn’t twist her body, so it’s easy to land a quick strike at her exposed side.

She yowls, landing on her paws with a grunt. She’s quick to turn back to me. “Lucky hit.” She hisses. I get into a fighter’s crouch, placing one paw in front, ready to hit, and one paw back in case I needed to change positions swiftly. I can’t help but laugh silently at how she immediately braces for another pounce; did they teach the apprentices anything in WillowClan. This was going to be easier than I thought.

I’m similarly shocked and disgusted by her idiocy as she pounces forward again, clearly wanting to land some swing at my chest. She was so obvious she may as well have been saying out loud what she was thinking. I just have to side step to easily dodge her and I do it again when she furiously swings at my legs. She’s getting frustrated and that’s her second mistake.

Frustration made you desperate.

“Missed again!” I have to sing when her paw whirls at nothing again, she actually almost loses her balance. I smile to myself. If I wanted to, I could have killed her at so many times during this pointless excuse of a ‘fight’. “If this is the best WillowClan can offer, I’m honestly sympathetic for you lot.”

She lets out a lungeful of air. “Shut up!” She screams. It’s working. If I make her angry, she’ll just get even more desperate, and will soon tire herself out. Then it’ll be easy to pin her. There wasn’t even really a need to mess her up, she wasn’t any kind of threat.

Her next two swipes are just as easily missed, and I’m able to jump over her when she pounces at me again. “Fight back!” She demands.

“Nah. This is more fun!” I take a moment to laugh to myself as she pants in exhaustion.

And that was my mistake.

Because with a surge that wipes away all her exhaustion she darts forward and when I pounce to my side, she instantly follows me with a twist of her body that catches me off guard. Before the smile can leave my face, I feel her paw pound against my cheek. Hard. The following swift hit is just as painful.

I catch my feet well, but the shock makes my heart pound. My teeth ache from the hit, but I keep that hidden. How had she been able to turn like that when she was so tired? And she was tired. Darting a look at her, I can see her fur poofed out like she was ready to drop there. But her paws remained stoic, and her legs didn’t quiver.

And she was smiling. Smiling in a proud way that made me glower.

“No.” She spat out. “That was fun.”

Okay. I admit my foolishness to myself and curse it. No more taking it easy.

I wait for her to obviously lunge at me again, and this time I don’t dodge her. I take advantage of what I’d seen before. My paw swings down onto her back, dizzying her. She met the ground, this time her legs buckling. She tries to get up quickly, but I don’t give her the time.

My paws are on her back before she can let out a grunt. My back legs rest on her spine, and one fore paw presses hard on her neck. She writhes around, screaming bloody murder, but I’m not giving her the chance this time.

“Give up.” I offer mercifully.

Her response would have made a prophet gawk.

I groan and slip off for a moment so I can wrench her onto her back. My paws find her chest again and I’m holding her down once more. But this time my forepaw is on her neck. “I could kill you.” If I wanted, my claws could unsheathe and that would be it for her.

Her eyes meet mine and the defeat I expect is muted. The fight lingers and holds there, stubbornly refusing to expire. She doesn’t stop writhing. Irritation is beginning to replace my anger. What was with this molly? Didn’t she know when she’d lost?

Under my paw I can feel her ferocious growl. “Then why don’t you try it?” I can almost see my shocked reflection in her fangs.

Apparently not.

I could have put an end to her right there. It would have just taken a spasm in my paws.

But she’d called my bluff.

I groan again. What a pain? I didn’t want to kill her; I didn’t really even want to hurt her. I’d already won. There was no point in doing anything drastic with her.

Besides, she’d already ruined enough. I’d come here to avoid this very kind of situation. But I’d let her pull me into her stupid mindgames. This realisation just adds to my irritation, and my desire to beat her dwells a little more.

Eventually, I’m too annoyed to hold her down anymore. I push myself off her with a huff, glaring at her as I smooth down the ruffled patches of fur. “Like I’d start some war over you.” I hiss.

The look she’s giving me is both smug and furious. She gets to her paws quickly, as if she couldn’t remember how badly she was losing. Maybe she was that stupid. “What’s the matter?” She spits, “Too afraid to finish a fight?”

I’m too angry to let her provoke me. “That wasn’t a fight.” I meow. “That was a beating.” I wouldn’t even say I was taunting her there, but her claws flex again. A voice warns me that she’s dumb enough to lunge at me again.

By some miracle however, she’s smart enough to just let out a bitter hiss and remain where she is. “That mark on your face says otherwise.”

I’m confused for a moment, then I hear the small droplet of blood hit the ground beneath me. My eyes widen. She had her claws unsheathed? Fox-dung, she hated me that much? I growl, I hadn’t bled in a fight for ages. The last thing I wanted was for her to do it.

“Lucky hit.” I reply, “You were the one pinned down, not me.”

As I wipe a washed paw across the wound, I await her response. It doesn’t come. My lips purse, and I turn, half-thinking she was planning some cowardly attack. She’s sitting down, glaring at the ground. There’s something dark mixing with the clear anger on her face. It’s similar to the face she usually has at the gatherings.

I snort quietly. Whatever. Like I cared! What ran through her head was nothing I wanted anything to do with. As long as she kept her distance, we’d be fine.

My stomach sinks a little. There wasn’t really a reason to stay here anymore. Whatever peace I’d wanted to gather was gone now. Plus, I’d have to think of some excuse for how this stupid cut got on my face. The only good thing was that she’d have to find an even better excuse for all the dirt and bruises that stuck to her pelt.

I groaned, it still wasn’t like her problems did anything to quell mine. I began to pad back home again. The stink of WillowClan and blood was mixing in my head and it was slowly making my blood run a horrible cold.

“Where are you going?” I hear her shout behind me, like I was doing something wrong. “We’re not done.”

“Yes we are.” I say, not looking back. I wasn’t wasting any more time with her. “I’m going back to my Clan. Why don’t you do the same?”

“I don’t follow your orders!”

I roll my eyes. This crazy molly! “Fine! Do what you like then.”

It’s silent for a second as I walk up the hill. “You going back to your flower patch?” I can hear the smirk in her voice.

I turn back, my eyes trying to burn away whatever stupidity has seemed to overtake her. “You didn’t see anything?”

She laughs. Obviously pleased that she’s lured me back. “Oh, I think I did. And I think a lot of my friends would love to hear about what the strongest apprentice in the forest gets up to when he thinks no one’s watching.”

My face is a raging fire, enough that it would scare off any apprentice I knew. But she isn’t like them. Her blood is as cold as stone. Underneath my snarls, I am panicking, even if it’s just a little. “You wouldn’t dare.” My grit teeth don’t falter. “I bet you don’t even have any friends.”

Dewpaw’s head twitches to the side. “Is that a fact? Oh, then I guess you don’t have anything to worry about.”

The change is so strong we both notice it. The power shift. It makes my insides clench, while she straightens brightly. If I denied it, my clanmates more than likely wouldn’t believe her, but my parents would most definitely get suspicious, and worst of all Violetstar would use any rumour she could against WaterfallClan. And regardless of whether it could be proven or not, that would only heighten the tensions between our clans.

“You rat.” I hiss, I’m ashamed of how soft my voice sounds.

She shrugs, “Yeah, it’d be pretty embarrassing for you, wouldn’t it?”

I take another step forward, “Are you trying to get yourself mauled?”

“You can do what you want, I’ll still get away. By the next gathering everyone will know.” She warns. I stop in my tracks as I sense she’s about to run.

I have to try and keep calm. If I act like I don’t care there’s still a small chance I can throw her off. I wave my tail at her dismissively, “No one in my clan will believe you. And if you think I care one bit what your kind thinks of me, then you’re a real mouse-brain.”

“If that’s the case, then go ahead and get gone.” The way she says it, so sure of herself, admittedly makes me feel ill.

I don’t move. I can’t move. I feel like prey cornered onto a cliff. Every thought I try to make just makes my heart race all the more. In her eyes, I can see she isn’t seeing what everyone is meant to. She’s seeing something else. Something vulnerable. The parts of myself I love and hate so much. I haven’t felt so pathetic for so long.

I look up at her. Her eyes are narrowed and her lips are thin. Thinking. Probably figuring out what kind of blackmail she can use to torture me. My paws are shaking either from anger or humiliation. I don’t want to know which. I think again how I could easily silence her if I wanted to.

But she’s caught me. She knows I wouldn’t do it. She can see it in the way I stupidly bite my lip. I sigh, defeated. I have no choice but to await it.

“Tell you what,” I brace myself as she starts, darting a look of hate her way. She doesn’t flinch. Her mind is made up. “If you tell me what you’re really doing here, I’ll keep your little secret.”

I stiffen, trying to make sense of what I’ve heard. She can see I don’t trust her. “What?”

“You heard me. I don’t think your deaf.”

I unlatch my jaw, “I was just out on a walk.”

“That’s nice.” She says smoothly, “Now how about the truth?”

The fire smokes in my throat again, choking me, blazing in me. “Why do you care?” I force out. There’s no point in lying to her. Apparently that Tyrant blood had decided to give her mind reading powers.

She just shrugs, her tail waves impatiently.

I want to scoff and storm away, but that would do no good. She’s unnaturally controlled right now, nothing like the rushing, impulsive fool I’d fought just a few moments ago. Her eyes patiently lie on me, her claws tapping the ground like a waiting mother. Her aura of smugness makes me want to vomit.

Instead, I think up the closest thing I can think of that will make the truth yet hide the worst parts.

“I… I just wanted to find someplace to relax okay?” I force out roughly. She waits still so I go on a little more. “Training wears me out a little, alright, of course I need to unwind a little sometimes.”

She raises a brow rigidly, “Why not do that at your own clan?”

I blink quickly to hide the voices and images that flash over me. My eyes find the ground, still straight enough to look strong. “It’s more… relaxing on my own. No idiot’s gonna bother me here.”

Or so I thought. I keep that part shut. She doesn’t.

“I thought the same when I came here.” Her snicker makes me growl. “Oh relax, don’t be such a stick in the mud.”

“That’s rich coming from you.” I mutter, glancing back at her. I’m sick of this now. “There, I told you why I came. Now will you keep your mouth shut?”

She must see something I hate because she’s smirking again. Don’t kill her. Don’t kill her. Not yet.

“So, you come here because you wanted to relax with some flowers?” Her voice is more questioning than unkind. It doesn’t stop me from groaning.

“I wasn’t looking for the flowers.”

“But you were resting in them?”

“I could have rested anywhere!”

“I could hear you smelling them. You were purring.”

Oh for the love of- “Look we had a deal; will you keep quiet about this or do I have to make you?” It comes out of me too hoarse to be threatening.

Her chest settles down softly, the stiffness in her eyes has faded, replaced by something I can’t describe. She’s laughing, but it sounds different. “Relax. I’ll keep your secret.”

I’m just about to let the silent relief come to me.

“But, in exchange for keeping your other secret, I want your help with something.”

Something in my chest explodes. A thousand dark voices are screaming somewhere in my chest. “What?!” I yowl. “What other secret?”

“The reason you’re hear of course!” She smiles at me, mockingly sweet. Her eyes gleam like a fox’s.

Starclan, whatever I did to deserve this, I repent my sins. I will literally grovel for hours at your mercy if you’ll kindly make her drop dead, right here.

“You slimy little-”

She raises her paw at me, waving my threat away. “Yeah yeah, let’s get to the point okay? If you want me to keep quiet about that, you need to do something for me.”

I run my paws into my eyes until I see spots. My claws are digging into my fur, desperate to latch to anything that resembles flesh. I should have known she’d trick me like that! “And what it that?” I speak like I’m vomiting out smoke and mud.

When I look at her, anticipating her smug exterior, my anger gives way to surprise. Her paw is covering her mouth like she was hiding a scar of some kind. Her eyes are wistful, darting to the sky as if the trees would speak for her. And there’s some kind of darkness on the patches of fur below her eyes.

I edge back, my mouth opening. Was she blushing? My heart begins to pound and I can feel some kind of tremor in my tail. Just what the heck was she going to ask me to do?

“I… w-want you to t-train here with me.”

I look away then back at her. I try to find any difference on her exterior. The only thing I can see is that she’s blushing harder! She was being serious!

“Say that again?” She wanted to train with me?

“I’m not saying it again!” She snaps, her hostile glare coming back like it belongs there.

“Why on Silverpelt would you want me to train with you? Better yet, why the heck would I ever come back here just to train with you?”

She huffs, her ears digging back. “One – I’ll keep your secret if you do. Two – if you do it, that means after we’re done you can go back and sniff flowers all you want.” She ignores my hate filled face. “And three…” She loses her breath, trailing away with a bitter mutter.

“What?”

She forces herself to look back to me. “I need to train. It’s… hard training back home. I’m sick of losing to the likes of you.”

I resist the urge to snap back at her. I’m genuinely put off by how odd she looks. It was like she was doing everything she could to avoid my eyes. “Why can’t you train with your clanmates?”

“I would if I could. But they wouldn’t dare try and take me on seriously.”

“Why?”

The anger on her face is morphing. Her eyes darken and her breath shakes as she hisses. “You know why.”

Once again, she looks similar to how I’ve always seen her. And now I can recognise the look that makes her fur slacken and her teeth clench. She was miserable. I just needed to look at her, look at who she was, to see why.

“Okay.” I sigh, finding myself bored. “So why do you want my help?” Something clicks in my head that makes me chuckle. “Is this you willing to admit I’m better than you?”

She twists up, her tail lashing, but a fake grin on her muzzle. “Well, you’ll certainly do.” She looks away again, her façade morphing into a neutral expression. “I just need to fight with someone who I know won’t go easy on me.” I snort. That would certainly be me. “Whatever training I can get, I’ll take.”

“Hm.” I mutter quickly, “Well you’ll have to keep looking. I don’t want to train with you.” Coming here for the sole purpose of fighting with some cat I hated was actually more that the exact opposite of what I came here to do. I wasn’t going to help my enemy get better. Spending time, no matter how forced it was, with her was worse than any punishment I could imagine.

“I don’t want to particularly want to train with you!” She exclaims angrily, then glowers to her side, her whiskers drooping. “But I don’t have a lot of other choices.” Light blue pupils swipe back at me with an ugly sneer. “And neither do you, if you want me to keep quiet.”

She has a point there. But I’m still not convinced she’ll stick to this deal. Besides that meant I would have to come out here when she wanted me too! “I’m not risking getting caught for you.”

“Just lie and say you were going for a walk. I’ll be sneaking out too, you know. You’re not the only one making a risk here.”

“What happens if I can’t turn up because I’m caught? You’ll just go back on your deal because you thought I was dodging you!”

“Well, would you?”

Probably. It just hits me then that I’ve told her a plan I could have taken. I growl weakly. I wasn’t thinking straight at all around this pest.

“How about this then?” She says, her tail waving along the grass. “If one of us doesn’t turn up that night, the next night we’ll catch up from there, and if you don’t show up that time, then I’ll let slip your little secret.” She snaps. “At least then I’m giving you a chance then.”

Giving me a chance? I would have been doing it because of her! “Am I supposed to be grateful to you for that?”

Her tone is blunt. “Yes.”

And now she’s looking more like her mother. My claws want to scratch at the ground. This wasn’t fair. I still had more to lose than her if I took part in this stupid deal. The situation cuts into me deeper and deeper with each passing thought. Surely there had to be something I could use against her. I think for a moment and find myself leering at her.

“What if I told everyone how you asked another clan cat for training help? What if I told them why you didn’t want to train with your clanmates?” I spit at her, feeling the tide slowly ease off me. She had secrets she had to keep as well.

Her eyes fill incredulously, but it’s just for a moment. She soon shrugs. “Then I guess we both lose, huh?”

Horror overtakes me again. My tongue trembles on my jaw. Was she really not fazed at all? If she didn’t care then there would be no point in telling anyone. I begin to feel disgusted by the fact that unlike her I have a reputation to keep. I try again, scowling. “You really want your mother finding out about that?”

She laughs. It’s dry. Toneless. Unreserved. But she actually laughs. “That’s my problem, not yours. You’d be surprised how little difference it would make.” She sniffs, staring coldly at me. The weight of her words hangs in the air, but it gives her the control she needs. Her eyes light with evil amusement as she watches me splutter.

She really didn’t care.

My breathing has become audibly clear with panic. Everything seemed to press into me like a swarm of badgers. But more than anything it was the powerlessness she had talked me into. That was it. She’d just had to lure me here and now I was shaking like some kind of frozen elder. I think of what Cleopatra or Strongheart would do if they could see me like this in front of an enemy.

They might actually join together for once just to scold me. Like normal parents.

I don’t know why but Dewpaw doesn’t look like she wants to laugh at me. She stares at me, awkward and confused. I don’t want to think how I look. If I do, I might actually feel tears fight to come out.

I hear her cough absently. “Look, all you have to do is come here and train with me for a while.” She says, I hesitate to call the tone soft. Soft didn’t match her at all. “After we’re done, I’ll leave you alone and you can relax all you like. And I’ll keep quiet about it.”

I glance at her, stonily. She sighs. “Okay. I promise I’ll keep quiet about this if you train with me. Swear on my clan.” She brushes her paw over her heart like some silly kit. “It means we both get what we want. I get to train, you get to do… whatever you want, okay?”

She’s watching me mull over her words. I’m desperate yet reluctant. I can’t help it. This has stormed over the land like the rush of the waterfall. Truthfully, I knew I didn’t really have a choice. I couldn’t let her get loose with what she knew. I look over her, her toned, but unimpressive, muscles. I could just tell that training with her would be a fool’s errand. There was no way she would beat me, even if she did learn how to properly move in a fight. I’d just end up beating her every night.

Somewhat of a pleasant idea, but not enough for me to want to sneak off every night.

But I suppose that what I want doesn’t really matter. The only want I could sustain was her silence.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. My lips thin as I consider this. I’d get some time away from WaterfallClan, and it wasn’t like I’d have to spend all night training her. I’d just battle her, say some light moves that wouldn’t make her too powerful, and then maybe she’d finally be satisfied to leave me alone. If I was being honest, the very fact she would want to train with me was a sign enough that she couldn’t afford to be picky.

My eyes go to the corners. She’s still there sat down. I can see an impatient frown on her muzzle. I can see her tail thumping crossly on the ground. But most of all, I can see the vague, lightless hope in her eyes.

Something inside me gives way and I let out a sharp groan. “Fine. I’ll do it.”

She perks up, her chest puffing out with a meow. Quickly a frown comes to her though, and we resume glaring at each other. “Okay, great. Guess that means your secret’s safe.”

“You make sure it is.” I hiss at her. Just because I’d agreed to help her, it didn’t mean I had to be nice. She wouldn’t be, I knew. “Unlike you, I have a reputation to uphold. So, keep it shut that I go here!”

She rolls her eyes, “Whatever. Sure thing, flower-patch.”

“Don’t call me that!”

“I can’t make that promise.” Her eyes flash at me mischievously, a playful way that doesn’t match her at all. I have no control of my eyes as they widen. “You keep yours and we’ll be just fine.” She says. She turns away from her, tail swaying to and fro in a manner of goodbye. “I’m going. We’ll meet here tomorrow night.”

My fur thins down, “Tomorrow?”

She looks back, one eye widened, the other mockingly drooped halfway. “What? You got a date or something?” The half-opened eye winks at me as a cool grin forms on her mouth.

Against my will, I flush a little. In the emerald night, her fangs glint like arrowheads under the water. My silence is telling; the way my eyes are trying to make her erupt into flames are even more so.

“Didn’t think so.” She purrs. I watch her as she walks away, still racing from the embarrassment of this night. “Have fun!” She calls back to me. I scoff at her poor mockery.

It was a mocking call, right? Of course it was! Best to return it. “Hope those scratches make your clan suspicious, Dewdrop!” I hiss at her back.

“These things?” She doesn’t turn back but I can feel her holding back a snarl. “Oh please, there so tiny I’ll just blame them on playing with a kit.”

The tight rage in my chest keeps me quiet enough that I don’t respond. Her tail lashes again, swift and seamless. See you tomorrow. It might mean. I don’t really care if it does or not. She gently disappears under the willows until she’s nothing but a shade of the night. Soon, I’m alone again.

I can’t help but feel like I have to grunt. I still can’t believe what I’ve agreed to. How a journey for a night of peace could go so wrong? I make my way back to the untrampled flowers, breathing them in to quell the ill density in my stomach. This is what I was here for, and I was alone like I wanted, I didn’t need to think about her anymore.

But she’s really ruined my night.

Because she’s worked her way in. Either because of her words or the battle she forced out of me, but I can’t stop thinking about her disgusting grin or her rough laughter. Instead of the flowers sweet nectar, I smell her damp, earthy scent, clouding the area like a toxic fog. I try several different patches and at least a hundred breeds that I’d never seen before, but it remains lingering around me like a rogue in my camp. Unwanted. Dangerous even.

I cannot repress the thoughts, and soon enough I’m too sour and angry to want to stay here anymore. I don’t even think I want to come back. But I have to. My paws cut away at the ground in anger. Why did she have to ruin everything? I exhale through my nose. There was no point looming on it, that was probably what she wanted.

But even that doesn’t stop it. Even after I’ve left the area, even as I find my way back to clan camp, and even as I’ve creeped back to my nest and curled down to sleep again, that image remains. Her looking back at me, smiling smugly, white fangs shining in my head.

I cover my eyes with an internalised, hateful groan. This was not what I expected to fall asleep to. AT ALL.

#Baypaw #dewpaw #bayleaf #dewshade #waterfallclan #willowclan #lonely ghost 606

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mortuarybees · 5 years

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mr. Bees i sprained my ankle and am bedridden until further notice, please rec me ur fav fics under 8k (that adhd attention span is fun)

I’m so sorry to hear about your ankle!! I’d be happy to rec some fics. i’m only tagging authors if they have their urls listed with the fic! if you want me to add your url, just lmk :). also if my mutuals have posted fics feel free to put them in the replies bc yall have Taste:

salinity and other measurements of brackish water by drawlight / @drawlight - 3.5k - if you haven’t read salinity yet, drop absolutely everything and do it right now because it’s phenomenal and atmospheric and it absolutely aches!!! “It's an odd thing, getting on after the End of the World. Crowley takes to sea-watching.”

quiet light and ad astra (explicit) by drawlight @drawlight - the first clocks in at around 2k and the second at 8k. it’s the shortest and most effective slowburn i have ever read. quiet light is unconfessed love; ad astra is a love confession and first time and they’re beautiful

everything just stops by witching - 4.5k - idk how long you’ve been following me but when i first read it i FULLY had a meltdown and took all of you with me. it’s that “i love you deep, angel” shit “I love your silly aziraphale things” shit! they have the tenderest fucking conversation in literary history while crowley is drunk in a bath it’s wonderful

a culmination of miracles by prettydizzeed / @genderqueercrowley - 1.3k - an absolutely beautifully written fic about crowley having chronic pain and informing aziraphale about it six thousand years later

i keep a window for you (it’s always open) by prettydizzeed / @genderqueercrowley - 2.4k - a complete fkcing war crime of a fic of crowley getting emotional about romeo and juliet and continuing to be emotional about it for centuries and then, even worse, quoting r+j in a love confession.

such surpassing brightness by handful_of_silence - 7.7k - one of my favorite fics of all time! aziraphale is the patron of queer people and has been for thousands of years! fuck!

it’s the light (it’s the obstacle that casts it) by handful_of_silence - 5.7k - “The Patron Saint of London's LGBT Community is real, and he lives in Soho.” aziraphale and crowley speak polari. literally so up my alley i melted when i saw it

your hair was long when we first met by aziraphvle / @aziraphvle - 1.4k - crowley asks aziraphale to cut his hair and we are taken on a thousand-word journey about how aziraphale loves his hair and loves him and it’s. a whole lot. bringing samson by regina spektor into it was entirely uncalled for. again i am Weak for aziraphale loving and caring for crowley.

and then i will kneel down (explicit) - 5.4k - f. fleabag omens. it’s the confession scene but it’s aziraphale and crowley. it is More than you could ever possibly imagine

hard feelings/loveless by witching - 2.3k - "Aziraphale said it was like the opposite of the feeling you’re having when you say things like “this feels spooky.” Crowley didn’t know what to make of that, but he expected it was something like the opposite of the feeling you get when the only person who truly knows you makes a cryptic remark suggesting that you can’t understand love. Crowley understood love all too well.”

the saddest part of my day by witching - 3k - "crowley is preparing to leave on a demonic assignment, and he's very nervous about leaving aziraphale in charge in his absence.” they have a very open and honest and loving and very adult conversation about their feelings and tbh? That’s My Kink

summer and his pleasures by witching (explicit) - 7.2k - “absence makes the heart grow fonder, and crowley and aziraphale’s hearts were plenty fond to begin with. a story told through phone calls while they are separated for work-related reasons.”

penance by blissymbolics / @blissymbolics (explicit) - 5.9k - praise kink/crowley finally gets off after six thousand years of trying

like a prayer for which no words exist by lipsstainedbloodred - 8.1k - “In which Crowley and Aziraphale do not dine at the Ritz after that nasty business with Heaven and Hell, and Crowley has an existential crisis instead.”

men have gone to heaven for smaller things than that by mercuryhatter - 713 words - Robbie Ross’ funeral. “Aziraphale finds an age slipping away from him.”

where you stay i will stay by mercuryhatter - 866 words - men at the Hundred Guineas Club went by women’s names. aziraphale chose naomi and paid to keep the name ruth available in case crowley woke up. aaaaa

the hour/the spot/the look/the words by planethunter - 2.5k - “Crowley watches Pride and Prejudice (2005) and it spurs a realisation.” you can imagine what a trial it is to read p+p 2005 being brought into good omens but life is nothing but suffering apparently, i’ve learned that this summer through this fandom

and the punchline to the joke is asking SOMEONE SAVE US by princex_N / @princex-n - 5.8k - “The fact of the matter is that Crowley was the first bitter cripple to limp across the face of this planet. It's been 6000 years and things don't seem to have gotten much better.”

birds of a feather by idiopathicsmile - 3.6k - idiopathicsmile of world ain’t ready fame. if your life can be divided into Before Les Mis and After Les Mis, you understand. “Aziraphale nests. Crowley relearns some crucial facts about angelic courtship rituals.”

covet by mirawonderfulstar / @mirawonderfulstar - 2.4k - “Aziraphale, little good though it did him, wanted desperately. He wanted with an urgency that scared him. He wanted wine, and cocoa, and the occasional tea. He wanted gravlax with dill sauce, and Pappardelle Bolognese, and those awful little iced biscuits they had at Tesco at Christmastime. He wanted dinners at the Ritz and long walks in the park and late nights in the back room of his shop. He wanted Crowley. Fervently, achingly, he wanted Crowley.”

indellible by greased_lightning_rod / @aziraphallist (explicit) - “It turns out glitter is miracle-proof and, also, that it itches. Crowley needs some help preening. He gets a bit more than he bargained for.” Wing kink. yall know i’m weak for aziraphale taking care of crowley sue me

get religion quick (cause you’re looking divine) by brinnanza - 4.2k - “So it was fine. Even if Crowley couldn’t love him, he clearly liked him well enough, and that was almost the same thing. It no doubt would have continued to be fine, or at least fine-adjacent, were it not for a narrowly averted apocalypse and several bottles of a really quite nice Riesling Aziraphale had found in the back room of his newly restored bookshop.”

the nuances of “together” by mirawonderfulstar @mirawonderfulstar 2.8k - “Everybody in the whole world can tell Aziraphale and Crowley are a couple. Everyone except, apparently, Crowley.”

listen (he’s already told you five times) by darcylindbergh / @forineffablereasons - 1.8k - “Not everything Crowley says is said out loud. Aziraphale doesn't always hear him at first, but he's learning to stop being surprised.” Love!!! Languages!

sudden and surprising moments of overwhelming affection by darcylindbergh @forineffablereasons - 2.7k - “Aziraphale has not shut up in thirty-four minutes. Crowley’s been counting.” O More I Love Your Silly Aziraphale Things Shit. if you’re a neurotic talkative gay and insecure about it that particular genre of good omens fic is ruinous.

things truly terrible by darcylindbergh / @forineffablereasons - 1.2k - “Crowley has said some truly terrible things over the years, but this was the worst.” tooth-rotting-sweet love song-fueled confession.

tell me all the ways by tinsnip - 1.6k - “Crowley was out in the garden. Aziraphale was in his study, most definitely not looking out the window. Really. Really. One little speck of sentiment: was it so much to ask?” More! Love! Languages!

a name for earth by regencysnuffboxes - 1.1k - “Demons can’t say holy names, and Aziraphael accommodates his new friend accordingly.”

a home at the beginning of the world by stereobone / @stereobone - 5.8k - crowley just kind of. moves in with aziraphale. Meaningful Interior Decorating! Couch Metaphor! yall know what i’m weak for

#i hope you're back on your feet soon!#and i hope these keep you occupied until then :)#henry speaks #good omens #fic rec #caniwritemywayout

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alit0my · 4 years

Note

ohh i have a booker whump hurt comfort fic idea! would you write the first time he experiences a panic attack? but he has no idea what's happening to him just that he suddenly feels horrible and scared and cannot breathe at all. and he has that panic attack in front of the entire team who is also a bit lost. besides nile, nile has all the braincells and she knows what's happening so she talks him down with the help of the rest of their family.

hey! i hope i did this justice, but i am no expert on anxiety/panic attacks x

The job hadn’t gone well.

Andy and Joe died multiple times. Nicky had two limbs blown off. Quynh, Booker and Nile sustained rather minor injuries in comparison, but they still hurt like a bitch.

The car ride back to the safehouse was silent, enough so that they could all hear Booker’s breathing get slightly more shallow and erratic, and Nile placed her hand on his arm to calm him down.

“Are you alright?” She whispered to him.

He only nodded in response.

Booker couldn’t sleep.

He thought that maybe it was just phantom insomnia from all those years of avoiding sleep to avoid the dreams, but they had stopped years ago. Sitting at the kitchen table he brought his tea to his lips and noticed his shaky hands, nearly spilling the tea down his front. He frowned and placed the mug down on the table, the thud sounding loud. Too loud. It was then he realised he had a pounding headache, and the world around him went blurry as his eyes teared up and went out of focus unconsciously.

Booker didn’t know what was happening to him. His whole body was failing him for the first time in two hundred years, and yet a small part of him was still hoping this would be the final time.

His chest began to cause him pain as he tried to suck in enough oxygen with each shallow breath he took. He clutched his chest and tried to stand up, thinking some fresh air would help stop this horrible feeling, but he only succeeded in knocking over the chair as he stumbled backwards, falling to the floor.

Booker groaned softly as he tried to sit up, the heaviness in his chest weighing him down. He knew the others would find him soon, he had made too much noise when he fell.

That only made the pain in his chest worse.

The thumping in his ears made him unaware that the others had rushed into the kitchen, confused at the sight of Booker on the floor. They lowered their weapons as Nile rushed over to him, kneeling by his side.

“Booker? Booker, can you hear me?” She asked, waving a hand in front of the man’s unfocussed eyes. Cursing to herself when she received no response she manhandled him into a sitting position, leaning him against the counter.

“Nile, what’s happening?” Andy asked, brows furrowed.

“Panic attack I’m pretty sure,” the youngest immortal responded as she removed Booker’s many layers of clothing. “Get me some water. Joe, do you have any soft feathers or something?”

“Um, yes, but they’re uh, on handcuffs,” Joe blushed slightly and rubbed at the back of his neck, glancing at Nicky.

“Ugh, just go get them. Book’s not responding to anything visual or auditory, so we need to ground him through touch,” Nile responded and took the water bottle off Andy as she returned from the fridge. Cracking open the bottle, she wet the tea towel that was hanging over the oven handle and placed it around Booker’s neck before pouring the water over his hands slowly, continuing the movements until she saw Booker’s eyes refocus. “Hey, Booker. Can you hear me?”

Booker was still shaking and his eyes felt heavy, but he slowly moved them to look at Nile, nodding once. He felt the cool water running down his shaky hands and he clenched them to try and get them to stop, only to have Nicky unclench them and hold them gently, rubbing his thumbs along the topside.

“Breathe, nice and slow, okay?” Nicky smiled softly as the Frenchman tried to take in a large breath, his hands slightly less shaky now than they were before.

“Booker, I need you to tell me five things you can see, okay?” Nile said as she used up the last of the water on Booker’s hands.

“I-” Booker coughed and looked in the direction of where Andy, Quynh and Joe were standing, worry laced across all their faces, and why does Joe have pink feathery handcuffs? “You five.”

Nile pursed her lips but nodded. “Okay, now four things you can feel?”

“Counter, the- the floor, cold towel,” Booker shuddered, the towel becoming cooler against his skin as he became aware of it. “Nicky.”

“Good, good job,” Nile smiled and ran a hand through Booker’s sweaty hair, pushing it away from his eyes. “Three things you can hear?”

“My own heartbeat,” he whispered and went quiet.

“Okay, two more things,” Nile prodded. “You can do it.”

“Birds,” Booker said, confused. When did it become daylight? “Uh, your voice.”

Nile nodded. The Frenchman was considerably less shaky now, and his breathing had become stable. “Two things you can smell?”

Booker focused on his breathing for a second, and that was exactly what Nile wanted him to do.

“I don’t smell anything,” Booker admitted, looking at Nile then at the ground. “Why are you asking this of me?”

Nile smiled and removed the wet towel from the back of his neck and used it to wipe the sweat off his face. “It’s a grounding technique to help people who are having a panic attack. How are you feeling?”

“Horr-ible,” Booker’s voice cracked as he responded. “Embarrassed.”

“Don’t be embarrassed,” Nicky shook his head. “You’re suffering shouldn’t cause you embarrassment.”

An opened water bottle was shoved in Booker’s face and he let go of one of Nicky’s hands to take it from Andy, who crouched down beside him with a soft smile. “Drink up, I’m not about to lose you just yet.”

Booker took small sips of the bottle and smiled in thanks, his heartbeat still pounding in his ears as the rest of his body relaxed. He didn’t know what caused this little meltdown of his, and it was something he would have to research later.

“C’mon, you need a shower and then a nap. Joe can cook breakfast,” Nicky said as he pulled Booker to his feet, ignoring the protesting cries of his lover as he led Booker towards the bathroom. “Don’t worry about using all the hot water, though Nile says cold water will be best after what you’ve just been through.”

“Grazie, Nicky,” Booker mumbled and walked in, leaving the door unlocked in case another one of those panic attacks occurred.

Not that it would stop the team from busting down the door anyway.

Clean and wrapped in his softest clothes, Booker headed straight to his bedroom after his shower. His feet trudged along the wooden floors as he passed the common areas, hoping to make it a clean run to his bed but alas, his family had other ideas.

Quynh stepped in front of him before he could even reach his bedroom, her arms crossed over her chest. She nodded towards the kitchen table, and Booker wasn’t about to refuse Quynh anything as he feared for his life so he reluctantly made his way to the table, dropping his head on the wood as soon as he sat down.

“C’mon Booker, eat quickly then you can sleep,” Joe said as he placed a plate down next to the Frenchman’s head, poking his side as he walked away which jolted Booker into sitting upright. Booker thought about ditching the meal and going straight to sleep, but he knew they wouldn’t let him do that, so he ate the omelette as quickly as he could before finally making his way to his bedroom.

Faceplanting on the mattress never felt so good to Booker as he pulled the covers over his tired frame. He barely registered the bed sinking around him as his family joined and cuddled up around him as he fell into unconsciousness.

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26836657

#sebastien le livre #booker #nile freeman #andy #joe #nicky #the old guard #panic attacks tw #idk if it needs a tw but im putting one just incase #booker whump #ot6 #family feels

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wolfantlersinspace · 4 years

Text

he whistles and he runs

Hello, here's my first Kink/Goretober fic. Hope you enjoy it!

Prompts: Ritual, come-marking

Beta'ed by Raven and my boyfriend. Thanks for the advice, both of you (and my enablers).

And thanks to my enablers: J, Reign, Starry, and Elli~ (I hope you four especially enjoy this).

Harry Potter, Tom Riddle | NC-17 | 4549 words

“Tom,” he murmured, ducking under a branch and nearly touching the top of Tom's diary with his lips, “I really don’t like this.”

“Tom, are you sure this is where I’m supposed to go?” Harry whispered, clinging tightly to a small, black book. It didn’t respond. He shouldn’t expect it to; Tom only answered when Harry wrote to him, despite how much Harry would love to talk to him face to face. The instructions had told Harry to walk along a narrow path deep in the forest, and so that’s where he would go.

Gnarled, knobbly trees grew far into the sky, their trunks covered in moss and lichens. Their exposed roots hid underneath agitated serpent vines, and thorny brambles clung to his robe like grasping fingers.

This deep in the forbidden forest was nothing good and everything dangerous. Not a single ray of light shone through the dense, leafy roof, and a swirling fog oozed out of graveyard lace flowers. The trees were so dense it was hard to see anything at all.

“Tom,” he murmured, ducking under a branch and nearly touching the top of Tom's diary with his lips, “I really don’t like this.”

The only sound was his footsteps, the crackling of leaves and cracking of sticks (and those strange hisses he couldn’t quite understand). He shivered then. What if Tom was wrong? Harry could get killed—

Tom wouldn’t intentionally put him in danger, Harry was certain. Tom cared about him, he’d told Harry so in the faded red firelight in the Gryffindor common room, long after everyone else had gone to sleep. Tom had teased him about spilling his inkwell across the diary in embarrassment for days.

The fog was so thick he couldn’t see the ground at his feet any longer. He gulped. They’d done an assignment on graveyard lace flowers last year. Harry didn’t remember much, except they grew where magical corpses lay, buried and decomposing. The small white flowers were dotted throughout the hazy grey that spewed from their centres.

A bird cawed, cutting through the silence like a knife. He froze, clutching the diary to his chest, heart pounding. His wide eyes darted around the area, flitting from tree branch to tree branch, but it was nowhere to be seen. Harry closed his eyes, exhaling slowly. It was fine. Everything was fine. He carefully opened his eyes again.

A scream caught in his throat, black feathers filling his vision. He ducked, but not before the bird (a crow? A raven?) clawed at his face, missing his skin by mere millimetres. He stumbled and fell hard on his knees, the damp ground squelching beneath his weight. His glasses fell, and when he picked them up again they were streaked in mud. He cleaned them as best as he could on his sleeve, but it just smeared around the lens. He put them into his pocket with shaking hands. If he squinted he could see well enough, anyway.

Tom’s diary had managed to stay in his sweaty palms — a small relief. His heartbeat was as fast as a hummingbird’s wings.

Harry jumped each time sticks broke under his feet, eyes darting around, but there was nothing but eerie, blurry gloom as far as his eyes could see.

It wasn’t long before he stumbled into a clearing, suspiciously absent of the lingering mist. A stone altar stood proudly in the middle, painfully bright sunlight somehow breaking through the leafy roof and illuminating it. There were no grasses or flowers around the base, just compacted dirt and gravel.

It looked dangerous. He should turn back. Maybe he would’ve if Tom wasn’t resting against his chest, enclosed in a book and hoping for freedom.

Maybe he would if he wasn’t so Gryffindor.

He walked forward, placing the diary on the altar, ignoring the stabbing pain of his retinas as he entered the sun. His gut coiled in anticipation — he’d finally get to meet Tom, to see his face, his body. To meet the boy he thought he might do anything for.

(He ignored the doubt, doubt, doubt spreading through his veins like treacle, the sickening bile in the back of his throat like he knew something was about to go wrong any second.)

The moment he placed it right in the middle the altar seemed to glow, tiny, near-invisible runes lighting up all over the surface, like long, swirling vines.

A coiling black cloud swirled out of the book then, a sickening green around the edges. It pulled tighter and tighter and formed the curious shape of a boy, half a head taller than Harry and much more handsome, with dark eyes and hair. He wore a Hogwarts robe, just like Harry, but it looked old fashioned and second hand.

“Tom Riddle?” Harry asked, and Tom nodded, face carefully blank. “I’ve wanted to meet you for so long.” An embarrassed smile stretched his lips, and he ducked his head, rubbing the back of his neck. Tom probably thought he was a loon.

“It’s nice to meet you, Harry.” His footsteps were silent; Harry didn’t know he was standing in front of him until he was right there, grabbing Harry’s hand. He raised it to his mouth, carefully, precisely, and swept his lips across the back of it. Oh. Harry’s heart fluttered. “I need you to do one more thing for me. Incarcerous.”

Thick ropes bound Harry’s wrists behind his back and pulled his ankles together so close he couldn’t keep his balance. He toppled forward into Tom’s waiting arms.

“You made it so easy for me.” Tom waved a wand — Harry’s wand, how? — and levitated Harry over to the altar. Curiously enough though, he didn’t place Harry on it, dropping him on the ground right beside it instead. Another incarcerous and Harry couldn’t pull his calves away from his thighs. “Now, wait.”

“No, no, Tom, you can’t do this,” Harry pleaded, squirming in the tight ropes. Tom’s eyes flashed as they made contact with Harry’s, a snarl on his lips. There was something off about this whole situation, and Harry wasn’t quite sure what it was.

“Don’t tell me what to do. Behave yourself.” Betrayal stung his chest and he looked away, hurt. Everything stood still for a few moments, and then movement sounded behind him, on the other side of the altar. A squawk and a low gurgling made Harry choke, and his stomach lurched violently, but he managed to keep his lunch down.

Harry couldn’t hear anything beyond the subtle rustle of leaves, and a steady drip, drip, drip into a bowl.

He didn’t know what Tom was doing. Was he preparing to kill Harry? He didn’t think he’d be a good ritual sacrifice; he was young, a virgin even. He gulped — that probably made him even more alluring. But maybe that didn’t matter, maybe Tom only needed his magic or his soul.

Sweat beaded on his forehead, hands trembling.

“I hope you’re comfortable.” Tom’s voice floated over the altar and Harry jumped, tensing. At the shink of metal against metal his breath quickened, heart pounding. “I wouldn’t want to be a poor host, after all.”

Despite his fear, his pants tightened as Tom spoke. He clenched his thighs, but that just made his cock twitch against the fabric. Gods, he could hardly breathe.

A clatter, then soft footsteps. He looked up as Tom came into view, fixated on the slight smug smile and triumphant gleam in his eyes.

“Oh dear, it looks like you’ve got a problem.”

Harry flushed, inspecting the bushes behind Tom with feigned interest. “No—” he winced as his voice cracked. “No, there’s no problem.”

“Don’t you want me, Harry?” Tom said, pressing his foot against Harry’s crotch. He flushed violently as he realised how hard he was. “I think you do. I was there,” Tom said, glinting eyes betraying his excitement. Harry, however, ceased his struggling in horror. He was there, every time Harry had touched himself to thoughts of Tom, even though he’d known nothing but his handwriting and the nicer bits of his personality. He felt his embarrassment heat his cheeks and wished he could bury his face in his hands. “I could hear every single thought that ran through your head. You fantasised about me a lot, didn’t you?”

Tom finally stepped away, leaving Harry’s hard cock alone again. He didn’t know if it was a curse or a relief.

Harry watched as Tom crossed his arms behind his back, pacing.

“I was quite lucky I was found by you, of all people.” A wry smile formed on Tom’s face. “Harry Potter. Who else could it be.” Harry had to strain his ears to hear him. “But now,” he started, louder once more, “Now I have you here, scared. Scared of me. I’m almost disappointed, but your fear is absolutely divine. Everything you do makes me stronger, and it feels so good.” Tom tilted his head, angling it towards the sun, and inhaled so deeply Harry could see his ribcage rise. It was a provocative move, a successful move, for Harry’s cock twitched even as his fists clenched.

And he knew Tom knew what he was doing.

“The ritual I want to use to restore my body requires you to be willing.” Harry shot him a furious glare — how could Tom even entertain the notion? — but Tom gave him a dark, secretive look which left his hands limp and shaking. “Of course, if you refuse there’s always the alternative. Slowly, over the course of a few hours, I drain all your magic, life and soul. I didn’t think you’d like that one all that much,” Tom added when he saw the expression on Harry’s face.

“I need you to give yourself over to me, to give your body over to me.” Tom knelt down in front of him, grabbing his chin firmly. Harry couldn’t help but shudder, face warming as those long fingers curled around his jaw, thumb caressing the skin just under Harry’s ear. He could hardly breathe, the air palpable between them.

“Will you kill me,” Harry asked and Tom laughed, warm and low. His face was far too handsome, Harry thought, and then hoped with all his being that Tom didn’t hear him.

“Of course not, I’ve invested far too much into you to do away with you now.” Harry felt himself relax, reassured despite himself.

“Okay then.” Harry looked Tom dead in the eyes and licked his suddenly dry lips. “I’ll do it.”

“I knew you’d come around,” Tom’s eyes gleamed with mirth, and then he was standing up, moving away from Harry’s body. Without his touch, Harry’s skin was cold. “The ritual is simple, I’m sure you’ll understand what to do right away. You’re a smart boy.”

As Tom unbuttoned his pants it suddenly sunk in. A sex ritual? Harry hadn’t done anything like that before, beyond mistletoe kisses with his friends. He wouldn’t know what to do, or where to put his hands, or—

“Don’t panic,” Tom’s voice startled him, jarring in its clarity. “You’ll figure out what to do. I only need your face and mouth.”

Harry opened his eyes (when had he closed them?) and jumped when he realised just how close Tom had gotten. He was trapped, Tom at his front and cold stone at his back. Those blasted ropes still restrained his arms and legs, and he couldn’t squirm away when Tom grabbed him by his hair, tilting his head up.

“Open,” Tom said, and Harry did.

Tom’s cock tasted like parchment and old leather. The alternative to the strange taste was death, however, so he didn’t complain. He wasn’t quite sure what to do. He’d only heard stories of blowjobs from Seamus, who always seemed to know everything about sex. Seamus acted like it was an innate talent everyone seemed to have, but Harry wasn’t too sure. Right now, he wasn’t sure he had the talent for anything at all beyond sitting still and letting Tom do what he wanted to him.

Tom let him gently run his tongue over the smooth skin and learn the weight of it against his tongue. He gave himself time before he closed his lips around it, sucking gently. The hand in his hair gradually loosened as Tom realised Harry was participating out of his own free will until Tom’s fingers were merely carding through the thick pile of curls. It was reassuring, and he felt himself grow more and more comfortable with what he was doing. Slowly but surely he worked his way down, further and further until he could take half into his mouth. Unfortunately, the back of his throat was an impassable object and Tom had to settle for less, though he clearly didn’t want to, Harry could feel the little thrusts of his hips.

Tom started letting out little gasps when Harry twirled his tongue or sucked with the right amount of pressure. He wanted to grab Tom’s cock, to jerk the bit he couldn’t fit into his mouth, but his hands stayed behind his back, wrists still wrapped up.

Apparently, even now, Tom didn’t trust him.

As he gained confidence, he allowed himself more, bobbing his head along Tom’s length, wishing he could feel the slight quiver of Tom’s thighs under his hands while he worked. He was used to the taste by now, couldn’t imagine cock as anything else.

Maybe, despite the deception, he still liked Tom, wanted him with all his being.

The hand in his hair tightened once more, and Tom positively shook as Harry sucked particularly hard, a low moan leaving his lips. Harry was aching in his pants, longing to reach down and touch himself, but he couldn’t, he couldn’t and it turned him on more.

“Harry, oh.” Tom’s eyes were glowing, reddish and bright as he met Harry’s, and then his cock was gone, leaving Harry’s mouth strangely empty. Tom took himself in hand, tugging with more force than Harry did for himself. “I’m gonna—”

The first spurt splattered across Harry’s eyebrows and he closed his eyes reflexively. He thought about saying something, but then realised he had nothing to say. Another spurt landed on his cheek, and then another across his nose and lips. He darted his tongue out and screwed his face up. It tasted like ink.

“Thank you, Harry,” Tom said, a nearly imperceptible wobble in his voice. “Will you run if I untie you?”

He wouldn’t, not like this (not without his wand). He could hardly breathe, his stomach clenching with need. He wanted Tom to touch him, to maybe reciprocate.

“No.”

As his circulation began moving through his hands and feet once more he couldn’t help but tremble, in anticipation, or need, he didn’t know. He didn’t know if he wanted to know. He rubbed his wrists and ankles, pouting at the tingling in his extremities.

“I need you to get on the altar, can you do that for me?” Tom said softly, hand outstretched. Harry grabbed it, face warming at the tremble in his fingers. He let Tom pull him up, and carefully climbed on the altar. It wasn’t very comfortable to lie on — his only respite was that he wouldn’t have to be on it for long.

Here, when he turned his head, he could see what Tom had on the other side. A whole dead rooster, hung by its feet, bled into a bowl. By now its dripping had slowed to the point where it hardly drained at all, and the bowl underneath was filled with ruby red blood. There were other things as well; a bundle of herbs, a shimmering potion, and a small bag. Harry almost didn’t want to know what hid inside it.

“Look up for me,” Tom said, leaning over Harry’s head and blocking some of the glaring sunlight. Tom even looked handsome upside down.

Tom’s fingers moved through the come on his cheek, dragging it into the shape of runes. When Tom scooped some of the come from his nose and pulled his hand away, Harry could see it was dark, inky, unlike his own.

Tom drew a rune on Harry’s forehead, and another one on Harry’s neck, and then stepped away, leaving Harry’s eyes exposed to the brightness of the sunlight. He closed his eyes reflexively.

“You look good like that,” Tom said offhandedly, and Harry blushed, embarrassment burning coiling in his stomach. Strangely enough, he enjoyed being covered in Tom’s come, perhaps not this way in particular, but under different circumstances, he could be easily persuaded into it.

Harry heard Tom place the bowl of chicken blood down on the altar, the ceramic clinking against the smooth stone. He didn’t want to get covered in chicken blood, but he knew Tom needed him to be willing. He readied himself for the feel of blood (would it be warm, or cold?) but the sensation never came. He cracked an eye open, looking over at Tom when he heard the subtle sound of dripping fingers, and he couldn’t help but gasp.

Tom had shed his outer robe, shirt and tie — Harry could see them folded up neatly next to the bag — and Harry realised Tom was the slightest bit transparent. At some point, Tom had acquired a mirror (perhaps magic, or maybe it was in the bag. He wouldn’t put it past Tom to conjure one, however; Tom was a genius after all), and was carefully painting runes on his torso with his free hand. The blood made Tom’s pale skin look paler, and Harry flushed when he realised Tom caught him staring. Tom threw him a little smile and Harry flushed once more, squeezing his legs together. Gods, Tom’s mouth did things to him. The blood didn’t drip, somehow it started drying the moment it touched Tom’s skin. Magic, it had to be. But when Tom moved closer he could see it had sunk into his skin.

Tom really did have the characteristics of a book, even in this humanoid form.

“Now, relax. You don’t have to do a thing.” Harry did so, letting Tom tie something into the strands of his hair. They smelled sweet, their scent powerful enough to break through the overwhelming aroma of ink flooding his nose.

Tom chanted softly as he worked, smooth, rhythmic vocals falling out of his lips. It lulled Harry into a sense of security and safety, even if he couldn’t understand it. He wasn’t sure what language it was, but he thought it may be Gaelic.

He breathed carefully, deeply, as Tom brushed a stray curl off of his forehead and trusted Tom with his body, with his soul.

“You’re doing so well, Harry,” Tom whispered, and Harry’s lips pulled into a slight smile.

A powerful light feeling was rising in his gut, almost overwhelming its capacity and he knew it to be his magic, rising up and preparing to spread out of him to help Tom. There was something else there as well, something darker intertwining with his magic. Tom.

Tom finished his chanting, body tense, and Harry watched him disappear from view, hissing in pain.

Colour, everywhere, lighting up the very air around him, sparked through his fingertips and filled the grove with the most unimaginable lightness. Harry could drift away on the weightlessness of the magic, the easy way it eased inside his bones and ached to carry him away.

He could hardly tell as it faded, vision blurry and breath stuttering in his chest. It was the most magic he’d ever felt in his life, perhaps even more glorious than the magic of Hogwarts herself.

A groan sounded from the ground, and he pushed himself up unsteadily. Gods, he couldn’t even feel his legs, which he swung over the side of the stone and hopped down onto the ground. He didn’t feel the same, not with that intoxicating magic coating him. He stumbled over to Tom, his legs shaky, and collapsed on the ground next to him, uncaring of the dampness seeping through his pants.

“Tom,” Harry giggled. Tom looked like a right mess, but the transparent sheen had disappeared. Blood flaked off his skin, falling into the Earth below. “I can’t see through your head anymore. You’re real now.”

Tom coughed, pushing himself up a little. He seemed very out of sorts. “It worked? I—” He looked at Harry with wide eyes, an untamed grin spreading across his face. He looked the happiest Harry had ever seen someone. “Harry, I could kiss you.”

Harry flushed, and emboldened by the wild magic he said, “Why don’t you?”

Despite Tom’s shakiness, he pulled Harry down, and Harry landed half on top of him, fingers curling into Tom’s hair as their lips pressed together, fuelled by a chaotic fury. As their lips moved against each other, Harry couldn’t help but want more. He opened his mouth for Tom’s tongue, giving in to his dominance with desperate need.

He was still hard — he had been the entire time — and it made itself known when they shifted closer, Harry’s legs falling on either side of Tom’s hips.

“I should take care of you. I think you deserve it,” Tom said, a wicked smile on his face and Harry nodded eagerly. Merlin, Tom was a sight, streaks of dried blood cracked across his face and body, hair mussed and cheeks flushed. His lips were red, and Harry couldn’t help but think about kissing him again until they were purpling, of sucking and biting his lip until he lost control. And oh, didn’t that thought make him tremble. “Your mind, Harry—” Tom said, “—is delightful.”

He’d forgotten Tom had that wonderful trick, legilimency. Harry didn’t even feel Tom slipping into his mind.

He dove forward as Tom’s hands pulled him down and pressed their lips together, scraping Tom’s lip with his teeth and revelling in the soft moan that spilled from his lips. The feel of their bodies pressed together was spectacular, and he shivered at the feel of the long length hardening against his hip. He wondered if Tom felt the same about Harry’s.

Tom’s hands unbuttoned Harry’s shirt without care, tugging in frustration when the buttons refused to come undone and then moved to Harry’s school slacks, which he only pulled Harry’s cock out of. He couldn’t help but look down at himself, at the bead of pre-come sliding down the head. When he looked at Tom, his dark eyes were ravenous.

“Gods, look at you, face covered in my come, so hard for me,” Tom cut himself off as he grabbed Harry’s cock, seemingly relishing in the moan Harry couldn’t hold back. “Wonderful, you’re so responsive to my touch.”

Tom’s free hand trailed over Harry’s stomach, running through the hair there and up to his chest. The brush of Tom’s thumb against his nipple sent sparks down to his cock, which twitched needily in Tom’s grip. When Tom finally started jerking him off it was almost too much, and he curled over, hand on the ground next to Tom’s head. Each movement of Tom’s hands left his body aching for more and crying for release.

“Tom,” he whimpered helplessly, and Tom smiled the genuine smile from before, tightening his grip just a little and fuck—

He’d never felt a better orgasm in his life, his thighs trembling and hands shaking as he wanted to curl further into himself, to protect himself from Tom’s determined hand which milked him through it, squeezing until the very last drips were out. He couldn’t open his eyes for a while, head spinning and body exhausted. He was tempted to fall asleep right here, on top of Tom, without cleaning up anything. He could hardly breathe, his chest only accepting air when he forced it to.

“Merlin,” he breathed, opening his eyes to Tom, Harry’s come streaking his chest and stomach, one spurt even catching his chin. If he hadn’t just come, he’d get hard from this alone.

“Quite.” Despite his curt tone, Tom’s eyes were softened with fondness. At least, Harry hoped they were. “You don’t need to deal with me, I’ve already had enough for today.”

With reluctance in every movement, Harry forced himself to move. His legs were weak, and he helplessly collapsed next to Tom, who got up like he wasn’t sporting an erection as noticeable as a unicorn in a thestral herd. He still had Harry’s wand, though Harry wasn’t sure where he’d kept it. Tom waved it over his body and all the residue on his skin disappeared, and then he did the same to Harry. The spell cooled his skin until he was shivering, but he felt noticeably cleaner.

A couple of vanishing charms and all the evidence of the ritual was gone; the altar in the middle was the only thing remaining, as undisturbed as it had been before they’d come here.

“I can’t come back to the castle with you,” Tom said as Harry buttoned up his shirt. “But I like—I’d like to exchange letters with you.”

Harry flushed, suddenly finding his buttons very interesting. “That would be nice.” He looked up again, meeting Tom’s eyes as he said, “You didn’t have to trick me, you know. I-I’ve liked you for so long, I would’ve done it anyway.”

Tom was the one who flushed this time, a charming pink coating his cheeks. “Yes, well. I didn’t think you’d want to.”

Determination settled in Harry’s gut and he marched forward, refusing to get embarrassed, and he grabbed Tom’s hands in his own, looking up at him. Tom’s hair was back to the perfect state it had been when he’d come out of the diary, much to Harry’s dismay. However, he comforted himself with the knowledge that he’d seen Tom without his stuck up persona.

“How many of our conversations were real?” Harry couldn’t help but ask, pressing himself against Tom’s warmth. Tom looked away, a strange twist to his lips.

“Since December, when you said you’d like to sit with me in the Astronomy Tower and share my birthday with me, all our conversations have been truthful.” Tom paused. “The only lie I told you were the circumstances of the ritual.”

He remembered that night, where he sat alone at the top of the Tower, just him and Tom, trapped in the diary. Tom had told him a lot of things since then, had scrawled out his fears in his perfect handwriting and helped Harry with his own.

“I’m not happy you lied to me,” Harry said seriously but tightened his grip on Tom’s hands when he tried to pull away. “I am happy you’re being truthful now, though. And I’m happy you’re with me, in person I mean.”

Tom let Harry twist their fingers together, a curious expression on his face.

The way back to the castle was far less scary when he could follow Tom, who knew the way back. Tom gave him the diary at the edge of the forest, tucked under the shade of the trees.

“Write in it when you’re lonely, and I’ll always write back.” And with that he spun on his heel, disappearing in a swirl of black, flying away over the treetops.

When Harry got back to his dormitory in Gryffindor Tower, a small note rested on his pillow, a deep red rose on top.

Meet me at the Astronomy Tower at midnight. TR

#tomarry #medium #smut #diary horcrux #dubcon #pre-relationship

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