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shadowtriovibes · 8 months

Text

fever (what a lovely way to burn)

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!MC

Word Count: 4.8k

Rating: M

Warnings: 18+, aged-up characters, friends to lovers, character with fever/illness, mild sensual content

Summary: request: "since you saved Sebastian from Azkaban, he has met you in the common room every morning and you have gone to breakfast together. One morning he isn't there so you go to his room looking for him to find him in bed, poorly."

“I’m disgusting,” he groans. “I can’t stop coughing, I’m sweating everywhere, I feel like I’m going to be sick but there’s nothing to–” He cuts himself off with several dry, pathetic coughs. “Here’s what we’re going to do,” you tell him firmly. “Ominis is going to go to class and come back this afternoon with some Muggle medicinals. In the meantime, I’m going to help you eat a bit of food and have a bath.” “N-no, absolutely not,” he stammers. “You think I want you seeing me like this any more than you already have?”

Monday, October 5, 1891

Even a month after the start of term, it’s unseasonably warm in the Highlands. The heat from the dog days of summer persists well into the arrival of autumn, permeating the ancient stone walls of the castle and settling like a thin layer of fog across Hogwarts’ students.

Professor Sharp’s N.E.W.T.s-level Potions class meets promptly at nine o’clock every morning. Despite the early time slot, the dungeon-level classroom starts to become warm rather quickly thanks to the heat of two dozen bodies and six potion stations, each with their flickering flames preheating the students’ pewter cauldrons.

Your little trio is usually the last to arrive from breakfast. Sebastian sidles up to the doorway just as Professor Sharp is preparing to close it, gallantly offering to hold it open for you and Ominis as you take your time sauntering down the hall, arms linked together and chatting happily about the latest gossip to have surfaced in the Great Hall.

Then you settle in at the potions table squarely in the middle of the classroom, which you’d unabashedly claimed at the start of term. (Ominis can hear Professor Sharp most clearly here, and Sebastian, as always, gets to remain the center of attention.)

Finally, with Ominis’ dictation quill hovering over his parchment, Professor Sharp begins his daily discourse.

“Dittany, as you’ll recall, is one of the most useful herbs for creating a wide range of healing draughts,” he explains, showing off a tendril of the fiercely pink plant clipped from Professor Garlick’s greenhouse just that morning. “Can anyone give me an example of one?”

“Wiggenweld Potion, sir,” Amit chimes in.

“Very good, Mister Thakkar,” Sharp replies with an approving nod. “Another?”

Adelaide Oakes timidly raises her hand. “Essence of Dittany, sir?”

“Well done, Miss Oakes,” he murmurs. “Though not as effective as a properly-brewed bottle of Wiggenweld, dittany on its own can be used to craft a powerful restorative tonic – especially useful in preventing the occurrence of scars. Five points to Hufflepuff.”

Then Professor Sharp glances around the room expectantly. “One more, perhaps?”

“Moustache paste, sir?” Sebastian mumbles under his breath, and you quickly elbow him in the side.

“What was that, Mister Sallow?” Professor Sharp drawls.

Sebastian bites the inside of his cheek. “Er, the Antidote to Common Poisons, perhaps?”

Professor Sharp levels Sebastian with a dubious look. “I’m afraid not. While dittany is a broadly useful herb, its powers are generally limited to healing, not curing. When considering its uses, think ‘paper cut,’ not ‘influenza.’”

You raise your hand and ask, “Sir, are there any potions that do cure illnesses?”

“Yes, in fact,” Professor Sharp answers. “The Pepperup Potion will quickly resolve any common colds or cases of the flu, with the enigmatic side effect of generating steam that will pour from your ears for hours on end.”

You wince a bit. “I suppose that’s worth being over a cold in a day.”

“I should think so,” he replies with a slight grin. “So has the majority of the wizarding world since the twelfth century.”

As Professor Sharp segues into a lecture on the history of healing potions, you pull out a piece of parchment and start to take down some notes.

“Sebastian,” you hiss. “What does Pepperup Potion taste like?”

“I wouldn’t know,” he says. “I’ve only had it once, and it was a decade ago.”

You frown. “Why’s that?”

“I can’t drink it,” Sebastian says simply. “I’m allergic to bicorn horn.”

You blink, surprised. “You’re… allergic? How did you even discover that about yourself?”

“Oh, it was gruesome,” Ominis chimes in gleefully.

Sebastian rolls his eyes. “Well, I had my suspicions as a child when my parents gave me Pepperup Potion and steam poured out of my ears, nose, and mouth for a full week. Simply suffering through the cold would have been better.”

“And then?” you prompt.

“Well… in our third year, Anne and I made some Polyjuice Potion,” Sebastian admits, glancing around furtively. “We wanted to see if we could attend our classes all day as each other without anyone noticing the difference.”

“And Polyjuice Potion has bicorn horn,” you surmise.

Ominis looks delighted. “They were both in the Hospital Wing for three days, stuck as half-formed versions of each other.”

You gasp in disbelief. “That sounds awful!”

“It was the one and only time in their lives they were truly identical!” Ominis crows. “‘Sebastianne,’ we called them.”

You can’t help but giggle at Ominis’ delight while Sebastian sulks.

“In any case,” Sebastian grumbles, “I can’t take Pepperup Potion anymore, but luckily I never get sick.”

“Really?” you ask skeptically. “Everyone gets a common cold once in a while.”

“Not me,” he says proudly. “I haven’t been sick since I was a child. At the very least, if I have been sick, it must have been so mild that I wasn’t slowed down in the slightest – no need for Pepperup, thanks.”

“I’d be careful, Sebastian,” Ominis demurs. “Wouldn’t want to tempt fate, would we?”

With a lazy shrug, Sebastian turns to his potions station and begins to roughly chop some dittany leaves for a new healing potion Sharp intends to teach that afternoon. He glances up surreptitiously while you tie your hair back with one of those green ribbons you like to keep around your wrist for when the Potions classroom becomes especially humid with cauldron steam.

Though it’s unwise to lose focus while holding a knife, Sebastian has become quite skilled at multitasking while tending to his lovesick heart with stolen glances and half-formed daydreams.

He becomes so distracted staring at the column of your neck that when he suddenly feels a bit dizzy, he merely attributes it to the thick, heavy air in the room.

—

Tuesday, October 6, 1891

“You look dreadful,” you tell Sebastian cheerfully as you take a seat at breakfast.

Across from you, Sebastian looks a sight. His generally unruly hair is sticking up in every direction, and his face, which until this morning had still been sun-kissed and freckled from his time carrying out summer chores in Feldcroft, is ghostly pale.

“Cheers,” he grumbles, his head in his hands as he stares down at a plate full of untouched tattie scones.

You know for a fact they’re his favorite. In fact, you’ve stolen countless scones from the Great Hall on weekends when he treats himself to a bit of a lie-in just to make sure there are some left for when he finally emerges, hair rumpled and cheeks creased with pillow lines.

“Late night?” you ask him as you pour yourself some juice.

“The opposite, actually,” Ominis explains. “Sebastian was asleep before I even finished my Runes assignment last night, and I practically had to drag him out of bed this morning.”

“That doesn’t sound like you,” you comment, frowning. “You’re usually up half the night reading. Are you sure you’re alright?”

Sebastian shrugs weakly. “I’m fine, I just… It’s dreadfully warm in the castle, and my head is aching.”

Without thinking, you reach across the table and press the back of your hand against his forehead.

“You’re quite hot,” you mumble.

“Wh-what?” Sebastian stammers, his eyes going wide. “What did you do that for?”

“You have a fever,” you explain to him. “Old Muggle trick. And your eyes are quite glassy. I think you might be coming down with something.”

Ominis unsubtly slides further down the bench.

“I’m not sick,” Sebastian protests. “It’s just the heat, it’s making me tired.”

You eye him warily, and as if to prove that he’s not ill, Sebastian lifts one of his hoarded scones to his mouth and takes a bite.

“See?” he asks with his mouth full. “M’fine.”

You grimace. “Lovely.”

Sebastian determinedly joins you and Ominis for Potions and manages to remain upright until the very end of class. He sways just a bit as he gathers up his belongings, and you offer him your shoulder while you make your way toward the stairs to Divination.

He balks when he sees the twisting spiral steps.

“On second thought,” he mumbles, “I think I’ll skive off today and get some rest.”

“Will you be alright?” you ask him concernedly. “I can come with you…”

“No, it’s fine,” he insists. “I’ll just lie down for a bit and then I’ll be grand, I promise. Save a seat for me at dinner, will you?”

Later that evening you linger in the Great Hall until the last of dinner melts through the tables down to the kitchens below, but Sebastian never shows up.

—

Wednesday, October 7, 1891

“You do not want to go in there,” Ominis tells you warningly. “Trust me, he’s a mess.”

You scoff. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

Sebastian still hasn’t emerged from his dormitory in nearly eighteen hours, and you’re starting to worry for him. Ominis had brought him back some food from dinner the night before, but according to him, it had gone untouched.

When he’d failed to show his face at breakfast, you knew you had to step in.

“He wouldn’t want you to see him like this,” Ominis tries. “Sebastian is hardly a gentleman, but some things are sacred.”

“He’s our best friend,” you remind Ominis. “I really don’t care if he’s not entirely put together.”

Ominis opens his mouth as if to say more, and then seemingly changes his mind.

“Fine,” he sighs. “I’ll tell Professor Sharp you’re tending to Sebastian, and I’ll ask Amit if you can borrow his notes.”

“You’re a lifesaver, Ominis,” you breathe, quickly pulling him in for a hug. “What would we do without you?”

“Rot in Azkaban, most likely,” he grumbles, which… is fair.

Once Ominis leaves for class, you gently knock on the seventh-year boys’ dormitory door. “Sebastian? Can I come in?”

Through the door, you hear him whine, “Go ‘way.”

“Sebastian,” you call out patiently. “Ominis told me you’re sick, and you haven’t gotten out of bed in too long. I’m coming in.”

He protests weakly from his bed as you open the door and slip inside, carefully pressing it closed behind you. As you’d expected, his other roommates have all gone for the day. Only Sebastian remains – or at least, you think it’s Sebastian.

All you can see sticking out from underneath the pile of pilfered blankets on his bed is a mess of curly, brown hair.

“Oh, dear,” you sigh.

“Jus’ leave me alone,” he mumbles from beneath the covers. “...I think I’m sick.”

“Finally facing the music, are you?” you tease him, taking a seat at the foot of his bed. “How are you feeling?”

“Like death warmed over,” he groans. “I’ve never been this ill before.”

“Should I take you to see Nurse Blainey?” you ask him. “I know you can’t have Pepperup Potion, but perhaps she has something else that would help.”

“No,” he sighs. “Ominis already sent for her, she said I’m a dafty and I’ll be fine in a coupl’a days.”

You bite back a laugh at Sebastian’s deteriorating accent; for how posh he usually sounds, apparently that rougher Feldcroft vernacular tends to slip out when he’s feeling poorly.

“Poor lamb,” you croon. “Can I do anything for you? Have you eaten?”

“M’not hungry,” he sulks. “Ominis made me drink some water before he left.”

You hum softly as you start to slowly pull his piles of blankets down low enough that you can see his face. Quickly you realize that Ominis had been exaggerating – Sebastian doesn’t look entirely a mess.

His eyes are a bit wet and glassy, you observe, and his nose is bright red from persistent rubbing with a handkerchief abandoned on his bedside table. He looks a little swollen beneath his jaw, but otherwise, he looks like he’d merely stayed awake all night, and you’ve seen a sleepless Sebastian countless times throughout your friendship.

There’s a bit of stubble along his jaw that you’ve never noticed before; it’s the same rich brown color as his wild, unkempt hair.

(Honestly, how dare he still look handsome even when he’s ill.)

“Hello, you,” you tease him in a voice just above a whisper. “Was beginning to wonder if you were even there under all those blankets.”

“I’m cold,” he complains.

“That’s the fever talking,” you tell him. “You should probably–”

But before you can tell him that he’d be better off with less covers, the blankets shift lower and you realize he’s not wearing a pajama shirt.

(Your disobedient mind immediately raises the question of whether he’s wearing anything at all, and subsequently, if you could get away with having a look. Immediately you scold that particular thought away.)

“Er, you should… don’t overheat yourself,” you finish lamely.

He’s flushed down to his chest, fever-pale skin burning red where the blankets had been piled on top of him. You discover that he’s got a thin smattering of hair here, too; he’s grown into the body of a man much sooner than many of your classmates, you imagine.

Sebastian watches as you swallow, your own eyes raking down his body.

“You’re missing class,” he observes. “You never miss class.”

“It’ll be alright, just this once,” you say softly.

For a moment you aren’t sure if you’re talking about missing class or being in Sebastian’s bed.

Then Sebastian suddenly starts to cough and hastily reaches for his handkerchief. He sounds utterly pathetic as he coughs and groans in discomfort, rolling onto his side and looking for all the world like a kicked puppy.

“My chest hurts,” he whimpers. “I’ve been coughing all night.”

You reach across him and gently stroke the backs of your fingers down the middle of his chest. His skin is noticeably hot to the touch and damp with sweat.

“I can put some Muggle herbs in a warm compress for your chest,” you offer. “I know they’re not as effective as a potion would be, but it always helped me feel better when I was a child.”

“Alright, I suppose that’d be nice,” he mumbles.

But when you move to stand, he quickly snags your wrist.

“Wait,” he says. “Er… where would you go? For how long?”

“Well, I’ll have to go see if Nurse Blainey has any, and if not I can go look at the edge of the Forbidden Forest,” you explain. “It might take a bit of time, I’m afraid.”

“Then, just… stay,” he whines. “Keep me company? That’s better than some plain old herbs.”

You shift onto the bed, curling up on your side behind Sebastian. It’s a tight fit, and you’re dangerously close to falling off the edge, but you’re able to leave enough space between your bodies that you can make the argument that it’s friendly, and it’s fine.

“Can I rub your back?” you ask him softly. “It might help with the soreness.”

You have no idea if it will help his aching body, but you’re eager to try it nonetheless.

“Go on,” Sebastian rasps. “I… I might fall asleep.”

“You should,” you croon. “Your body’s telling you that you need to rest.”

“S’pathetic,” he grumbles. “I never get sick.”

“You had a good run,” you tease him. “But the common cold comes for us all eventually.”

He falls silent after that, his leanly muscled arms curled around a pillow while you stroke your hand up and down the length of his back. He’s so warm, and you’re a bit anxious about letting him ride out a fever as long as he has, but soon he drifts off to sleep.

You learn two things while he rests: he snores when he’s on his back, and he frowns whenever you take your hands off of him.

—

Thursday, October 8, 1891

Ominis had managed to talk you into returning to your own dormitory for the night, promising to look after Sebastian while you got some rest. When you return the following morning, you find him in even worse condition.

His sheets are bunched down to his hips, and he’s still bare from the waist up. His entire body is covered in a thin layer of sweat, and the bags underneath his eyes have worsened – despite how much rest he’s getting, he seems more fatigued than ever.

“What happened?!” you ask Ominis.

“He’s had a fever all night,” Ominis says grimly, looking just as worn out as Sebastian. “He hasn’t eaten a thing, and I’ve barely been able to get him to drink some water.”

“Oh, Seb,” you sigh, taking his clammy hand and resting it in your lap as you sit on the edge of the bed. “You poor thing.”

“I think I’m dying,” he rasps. “This is it, right?”

“Hush now, there’s no need to be so dramatic,” you gently scold him, pressing your hand to his forehead. “You’re quite warm, but I’m not worried about your imminent demise.”

“I’m disgusting,” he groans. “I can’t stop coughing, I’m sweating everywhere, I feel like I’m going to be sick but there’s nothing to–”

He cuts himself off with several dry, pathetic coughs.

“Here’s what we’re going to do,” you tell him firmly. “Ominis is going to go to class and come back this afternoon with some Muggle medicinals. In the meantime, I’m going to help you eat a bit of food and have a bath.”

“N-no, absolutely not,” he stammers. “You think I want you seeing me like this any more than you already have?”

“You’ll feel better,” you promise him. “And I swear I won’t, er… look, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

You argue back and forth until Sebastian, utterly depleted of his typical stubbornness, loses energy and gives in. Ominis promises to stop by J. Pippin’s to see if the shopkeeper has any draughts suitable for Sebastian’s allergies before leaving to go to class, and you help Sebastian get out of bed with his arm around your shoulders and your own around his waist.

(He’s got pants on, thank Merlin, but you have to help him into a pair of pajamas to make the walk to the Slytherin baths.)

Sebastian balks when you enter the boys’ baths, but you both quickly learn there are no enchantments in place to keep you from joining him. You offer him an arm to lean on while he takes off his pajamas and coughs – this time pointedly – for you to turn around while he sinks into the lukewarm bath you’d drawn.

“This does feel nice,” he finally says once he’s settled in the opaque, murlap-scented water.

“Good,” you say, hoping he doesn’t notice how your voice has gone up a bit higher than usual. “I’ll be back in a few moments with some fresh pajamas for you.”

“I’ll try not to drown while you’re gone,” he drawls, and even though he still sounds exhausted, you smile to yourself knowing that the bath is already helping him feel more like his usual self.

Hogwarts’ house elves were exceptionally fast in tidying up the boys’ dormitory while the two of you were out, so when you finally lead a clean, dry Sebastian back to his room, you’re thrilled to find freshly laundered sheets and a new pair of pillows waiting for him.

“Gods, I love magic,” he groans as he collapses into bed.

You stay all afternoon and into the evening. Ominis returns shortly before dinner with a brew from Parry Pippin himself, similar to the Pepperup Potion but with cinnamon instead of powdered bicorn horn.

(Sebastian seems to emit thin tendrils of steam straight from the top of his head after he drinks it, but he perks up all the same.)

Feenky herself brings a tray of soup and some leftover scones from breakfast once Sebastian regains his appetite. While he eats, he tells you about how he used to sit with Anne during the summers when she was particularly ill from her curse.

“At the time, I wondered if my being there was more of a help or a hindrance,” he says ruefully. “She was… hard to read, then. I couldn’t tell if she was annoyed by me or appreciated me staying.”

You pause before shyly asking, “Am I helping? By being here?”

“Of course,” he says without thinking.

“Then I’m sure you were helping Anne, even when she was annoyed,” you tell him reassuringly. “That’s all we ever want to do really, isn’t it? Help the ones we love?”

Sebastian glances up at his tray with an inscrutable expression on his face. His eyes are still glassy and he’s a bit peaky, but the cinnamon-laced, not-quite-Pepperup Potion has restored some of the usual warmth in his gaze.

“Right,” he echoes. “Help the ones we love.”

You end up staying the night in the boys’ dormitory. Only Ominis knows you’re there, as he draws the curtains around the both of you before the boys’ other roommates return from the common room. Given that Sebastian seems to be feeling better already, it’s not strictly necessary.

But it feels nice all the same.

—

Friday, October 9, 1891

Sebastian’s fever finally broke during the night.

When you wake up he’s wrapped around you from behind, one of his legs jammed between yours with his arm curled possessively around your waist.

You’re sweltering, but he’s cool to the touch.

“Sebastian,” you whisper, but he doesn’t answer.

Judging by the way sunlight pours over the top of Sebastian’s bed curtains, it’s well past when you’d usually wake up during the school week. You can’t hear any other snoring boys around you, either.

“Sebastian,” you hiss. “Wake up.”

He groans tiredly into your hair as his arm tightens around your waist. “No.”

“N-no?!” you sputter. “It’s morning! We… we should, er.”

You trail off when you realize you aren’t quite sure what you should be doing. Evidently you’ve missed breakfast, and you’ve likely missed the start of Potions for the third day in a row. Professor Sharp will have no choice but to give you a detention; just as well, you suppose, as you can use the time to make up what you’ve missed.

But now that the damage is done…

“How are you feeling?” you ask him softly, your eyes still fixed on the green curtains in front of your face.

“Loads better,” he says, only this time his lips are pressed against the sensitive spot behind your ear.

You gasp as he rolls more of his weight toward you, pressing you more firmly into the mattress.

“Sebastian…” you sigh.

“I had a dream about you last night,” he confesses, his voice barely above a whisper beneath your ear. “I’ve heard Pepperup Potion can give one strange dreams.”

“St-strange?” you whisper back. “Why was it a strange dream?”

“I suppose it wasn’t really ‘strange,’” he acquiesces. “But it was nice. Really nice.”

“Tell me about it?” you ask breathlessly.

“Perhaps I’ll show you instead,” he asks, and when you nod, he slides his hand down to your hip and turns you onto your back.

Then quite suddenly he’s leaning over you, one knee still between your thighs. He rests on his elbows so his face is just centimeters from yours, and it’s the first time you’ve gotten a good look at him since the boys put out last night’s fire.

Sebastian looks so much better. His cheeks are flushed, his eyes are clear and bright, and the sickly sheen of sweat he’d worn for days is entirely gone. (His hair is still a bird’s nest, but that’s to be expected.)

“We were like this,” he tells you.

“Were we just talking?” you ask him, but you’re met with only silence.

After a beat, he asks you, “Why have you been so kind to me this week?”

“You’re my best friend,” you tell him softly. “I – I wanted to help you feel better.”

“Is that all I am?” he asks. “Am I simply your friend?”

You bite your lip hesitantly and his gaze dips down to your mouth, his brown eyes nearly black in the soft morning light.

“Do you want to kiss me, Sebastian?” you ask.

Rather than answering, he surprises you by leaning down and pressing a sweet kiss to the corner of your mouth. Then he lifts one of his hands to gently tip your face toward his, cradling your jaw while he deepens the kiss into one that’s hardly sweet at all.

It feels like it’s perhaps the first time in days that Sebastian has felt hunger.

You gasp his name into his mouth and then he’s the one biting your lip, just a quick graze of his teeth before he soothes your ensuing whine with another slow kiss. He shifts his weight onto his hip to rest on the mattress beside you, using that leg between yours to coax you into lying next to him. He rewards your body’s assent with a filthy kiss – the kind you’ve only read about in those Muggle romance novels you hide under your pillow, the kind where the hero kisses the girl with his tongue in her mouth and his hand in her blouse.

“Seb,” you moan.

“I didn’t know,” he confesses against your lips.

“Didn’t know what?” you whine.

“I didn’t know you loved me until last night,” he says, pressing his forehead against yours.

You’re so distracted by how red and swollen his lips look that you nearly miss him saying, “You stayed with me all week, you held me, practically healed me, and I still didn’t know.”

“Of course I love you,” you tell him.

“You love Ominis, you love Poppy,” he counters. “This – us – is different. Right?”

And the truth is, you would have done anything you’d done for Sebastian for any one of your friends. You would have helped Poppy into a warm bath and back into bed, and you would have sat at Ominis’ bedside all day and torn up pieces of scone to float on the surface of his soup.

But you would not have let them press you into their bedsheets and trace their lips along your neck, and right now Sebastian is eagerly doing both.

“Yes,” you whimper, both in answer to his question and as a plea for more.

“I love you, too,” he sighs against your jaw. “I have for ages, and I didn’t want you to see me all pathetic and poorly, but you still love me anyway.”

“I’ve loved you through worse,” you quietly remind him.

He nips at your throat for that remark; you’ve both agreed to speak of your fifth year as little as possible. Truly, the only reason you’d ever bring it up now is to remind Sebastian that you’ve long since made your choice – him, over duty and the law and perhaps even reason.

“Stay with me,” he pleads. “We have all morning, we have the dormitory to ourselves. Let me take care of you now.”

He pulls your thigh across his own and tangles his fingers in your sleep-mussed hair, holding you against his warm, bare chest.

“That’s tempting,” you breathe. “B-but perhaps we should check with Nurse Blainey, to see if you’re ready to return to–”

You cut yourself off with a gasp as he grinds his hips against yours. There’s no mistaking that he’s aroused, and that alone convinces you that he must be feeling well – you’re positive that he would’ve been too weak for this type of debauchery yesterday morning even if you’d gotten fully nude before him and begged.

“Trust me, I feel excellent,” he moans into your mouth. “Love, please.”

You don’t come up for air for a long while after that. By the time Ominis stops by during lunchtime to check on Sebastian, he nearly trips over your skirt, hastily tossed near the doorway.

“I take it you’re feeling better,” he deadpans.

“That potion of yours worked like a charm, Ominis,” Sebastian drawls. “Cinnamon, who would have thought?”

“I don’t suppose I mentioned that Muggles find cinnamon to be an organic aphrodisiac?” Ominis says innocently. “At least, that’s what Mister Pippin said. He told me you might have some rather amorous dreams while you recover.”

“No, I think you forgot to mention that,” Sebastian replies just as innocently.

Ominis simply hums and says, “Well, now that you’ve been made aware, I’ll be off to Herbology. I’d recommend locking the door if our dear friend is going to be keeping you company this afternoon, Sebastian.”

You’re too embarrassed to say a word, but Sebastian cheerfully thanks him as he pulls the door shut and reaches for his wand on his bedside table to magically lock it behind him.

“We’ve become menaces,” you whine as he rolls on top of you once more.

Sebastian grins wickedly down at you. “Not yet we haven’t, but thank Merlin we’ve got all afternoon.”

#hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fic #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow fic #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian x reader #sebastian x mc #my fic #man flu sebastian :(((

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cosmicanamnesis · 7 months

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little self-indulgent fic that I'm posting without proofreading, enjoy

steddie, modern AU, idiots to lovers | read on ao3

"It's not a big deal!"

Eddie's crush on Steve was a secret both short-lived and ill-kept. His first mistake was telling the band. Well, no, his first mistake was forgetting that Gareth and Will were dating and that Gareth had the physical inability to keep his fucking mouth shut. But Eddie telling his closest, most trusted friends about the guy he liked was definitely Up There on the list of mistakes.

Which was how Eddie found himself mildly hungover drinking black coffee in his living room while Dustin paced up and down the length of the trailer, berating him for not confessing his doomed love to his alleged "favorite child" sooner.

"HOW is it not a big deal, Eddie?" Dustin said, just a few notches too loud for Eddie's looming headache.

"Because it's not! He doesn't like me! He's never gonna like me! I'm an adult, dude, I have critical thinking skills. I know how to pick my battles."

"It's not- Eddie," Dustin suddenly went stone faced. "It's not about your chances with him. You're moving in with him. He deserves to know."

Oh yeah. There was that. Robin was starting college and there was no way she wasn't taking her Emotional Support Pretty Boy with her. The only place they could find was a 2-bed just slightly out of their budget, and had asked Eddie if he wanted to join them, finally striking out on their own in the city. The agreement was that Steve and Robin would share the bigger bedroom, and Eddie would get the smaller room to himself. Their move-in date was less than a week out when Eddie made his inebriated love confession at his quote-unquote Going-Away-Party.

"It's not about what he deserves, man!" Eddie said, sinking back into the couch. He rubbed his eyes hard to try and relieve some of the pressure building in his head and sighed. "If I don't say anything to him, nothing changes. If I tell him, everything changes!"

"Oh, please. Steve's an adult too, dude, if we tell him you like him but you're well aware that he doesn't like you, he won't make it weird!"

"Wait wait wait, hold up. Rewind. We? Who is we?"

"You and me!" The boys stared at each other in bewilderment for a moment. "Oh come on, Eddie, we both know that if I don't sit here and watch you do it, you're just gonna lie and say you told him when you actually just hid under a blanket listening to Metallica and wishing you had the balls to-"

"OKAY!" Eddie yelled, loud enough for the very shock of his volume to trigger his headache in full force. "Jesus H., kid, you don't need to call me out like that. Fuck. Fine. I'll do it right now, how about that?"

Eddie pulled his phone out and Dustin dropped down hard on the couch next to him, arms already crossed, smug satisfaction already settled on his face.

"That's what I'm talking about!" Dustin scoffed. "Here's what you should say-"

Eddie held up a hand to cut him off. "I'm not listening to you anymore. You had one long distance girlfriend ONCE, you're not some kind of Cassanova here… oh, son of a bitch."

"Son of a bitch what?" Dustin asked, scooting closer to read over Eddie's shoulder.

"I can't do this right now… The last thing I sent him was asking his opinion on the D&D movie and he hasn't responded yet."

"What the absolute fuck does that have to do with any of this?"

"Well I can't be like hey what's your opinion on this movie you know I love because I'm the one who told you to watch it, also I'm in love with you but it's no big deal. Like, what the fuck is that?"

"Oh… Yeah, you have a point." Dustin shifted back away from Eddie, covering his mouth with one hand in concentration.

"I mean… It can wait-"

"It can, but it shouldn't, dude! Shit… I mean, I could tell him, if you want."

Dustin had expected an outright "no" and was shocked when Eddie paused, apparently seriously considering the option.

"Actually… Yeah, could you?"

"Sure, but I'm not letting you see what I say until after I send it."

"You drive a hard bargain…" Eddie said, drumming his fingers on his knee. "Fine. Go for it."

Eddie stood and grabbed his coffee off the table, wandering slowly towards the kitchen, both to find some ibuprofen and to quell his temptation to watch Dustin quickly type a message to Steve.

"Okay. Sent. Now you can look," Dustin announced, beckoning Eddie back over as he downed the medicine. Eddie felt like he'd never moved so fast in his life. The message read,

Eddie wants you to know, before you move in together, he has a crush on you. he won't make it weird if you dont

As Eddie read, the three dots that meant Steve was typing popped up. Suddenly Eddie regretted ever agreeing to this, and pushed Dustin's hand and phone away so he wouldn't have to see Steve's rejection first-hand.

"He responded… Do you wanna know what he said?" Dustin said. Eddie was leaning hard against the armrest of the couch, staring into nothing, imagination running wild.

"Yeah, hit me," he said.

"Oh, alright. Thank you for telling me," Dustin read. "I don't feel the same way about him. I assume you talked to him about telling me."

"So he gets back to you right away but he won't tell me- oh. Never mind. He just responded to my text." Eddie was doing his best to not feel completely devastated by Steve's frankly predictable response to Dustin's text.

"So… What did he think of the movie?"

—

"Uh… Rob?"

"Yeah?"

"Um… Come here and… Just read this."

Steve and Robin were taking a break from packing up Steve's childhood bedroom in preparation for the move when Dustin's text came through. She quickly chugged the last of her soda and came around to Steve's side to see what he was seeing.

"Oh," she said, not bothering to conceal her surprise. "I mean… We knew this was a possibility."

"Yeah, I guess, but… What do I say? I don't like him like that."

"Then say you don't like him like that, dingus. He's probably breathing down Dustin's neck right now waiting to see what you say."

"Yeah, you're probably right…" Steve said. He typed and backspaced and typed something else until Robin got sick of watching and grabbed the phone out of his hand to answer Dustin's text for him.

"Just trust me!" Robin said, actively walking away from Steve as he sputtered indignances, chasing after her halfheartedly. As soon as she sent the text, she turned and shoved the phone roughly back to Steve's chest.

"Oh… Yeah, okay, that makes more sense than anything I was trying to say…" Steve conceded, reading the text Robin sent on his behalf.

—

Steve, Robin, and Eddie saw each other next when they were loading up the U-Haul. No one said anything, and Steve tried as hard as he could to act like nothing was different. It put Eddie's mind at ease while simultaneously driving Robin nuts.

Since Dustin sent the secondhand confession, the only thing Steve had on his mind was Eddie, and how he definitely didn't reciprocate Eddie's feelings, how he was definitely bisexual but Eddie… Eddie wasn't his type. He was pretty, sure, but he was so… Himself. He was loud and unapologetic and into things Steve had never even heard of. They had nothing in common besides their love for the kids.

But Robin saw it coming a mile away.

"It" finally came to fruition a month after they had all moved in together.

It turned out, Steve and Eddie were practically the same person. Same sense of humor, same taste in TV, they even took their coffee the same way. They really only differed in their music tastes, fashion, and theater snack preferences.

Robin got the text in the middle of her French class.

shmuck: i think i have a crush on eddie

bobbin: FINALLY. please just kiss him and put me out of my misery

Steve came out of the kitchen, bag of chips in hand, to see Eddie just as he'd left him: cross-legged on the couch, demolishing a bag of Sour Patch Kids to the tune of the Criminal Minds theme music. He tucked his phone into his back pocket and rejoined his maybe-crush to watch trash TV until Robin came home.

He didn't know why he was so nervous. He knew Eddie liked him. There wasn't a chase here, he didn't have to flirt or try to win Eddie over… He just had to say yes and Eddie was his. It was different from any other relationship he'd ever been in. Maybe that was why it was so scary. Because it was new.

They watched the episode and bantered back and forth about it, same as always. But before the next episode could start, Steve hit pause.

"Bathroom break?" Eddie asked, hugging a throw pillow to his chest.

"No, uh…" Steve started, unable to even look Eddie in the face. "No… Can I… Can I kiss you?"

Eddie didn't answer right away, which finally inspired Steve to really look at him. His expression was completely unreadable.

"Uh… Yeah, I mean. Yes, absolutely. Um. But what happened to you don't like me like that?" It was such an Eddie response, Steve could almost laugh.

"I, um… I guess I spoke too soon," Steve laughed, trying to be cool and suave and everything else people thought he was in high school. Eddie brought the pillow up to hide his expression.

"Really?" he asked, muffled behind the pillow so that Steve almost couldn't hear him.

"Yeah, really. Just… Since you told me-"

"Dustin told you," Eddie corrected.

"Whatever… I dunno, I guess it put the idea in my head and now… I haven't been able to stop thinking about it… About you- what?"

Eddie was giggling quietly behind the throw pillow, gently rocking himself back and forth as Steve talked.

"Nothing," Eddie mumbled into the pillow. "Go on."

"You're such a pain in the ass, y'know that?" Steve laughed again. "Can I kiss you or not?"

Eddie slowly moved the pillow away from his face to set it aside, revealing himself to be smiling like an idiot as he turned slightly to face Steve better.

"You understand I've been uselessly pining after you for like, two months now, right? Please kiss me, oh my god."

—

Dustin's phone lit up with a Snapchat notification; a message from Eddie to the D&D group chat. He expected a meme, or for Eddie to ask Jeff for a ride somewhere because his van broke down again.

Instead, it was a picture of Eddie looking smug, leaning against Steve's chest. Steve, apparently unaware he was having his picture taken, had his fingers tangled up in Eddie's curls. The text overlay simply read "hey guys guess what."

The first reply came from Gareth, a picture of him leaning against Will in the exact same position as Eddie was with Steve. "Gross," it said.

Dustin rolled his eyes. Eddie was about to get so much more insufferable.

#steddie #steddie fic #stranger things #stranger things fic #text

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trancylovecraft · 9 months

Text

(KNY) YANDERE PLATONIC! KOKUSHIBO x SISTER READER: You, Shibou. I, Kokoro (CHAPTER FOUR)

Previous Chapter ☆♡☆ Masterlist ☆♡☆ Next Chapter

AO3 link

CHAPTER FOUR: "Achilles, Achilles, Achilles, come down Won't you get up off, get up off the roof?"

NOTE: THE SONG OF THE DAY IS "Two Birds on a Wire" BY REGINA SOMETHING. LISTEN WHILE READING IF YOU WANNA HAVE FUN IDK YOU DON'T NEED TO. oh right btw pls send me aesthetic pics for my moodboards, im running out and almost resorted to quotes 😭✋ (which i did but shhh)

oh right, shit also gets real this chapter LETS GOOO.

Suicide notes only accompany in 25-20% percent of cases, Sometimes reaching 50% in some cultures and areas.

Reasons for writing a suicide note can include easing the pain of those known to the victim, To express thoughts and feelings that the person felt unable to express in life or to set out their reasons for committing such an act.

Murders of crows escaped in flocks, Flying high into the air in a wild panic as they hollered that one single phrase over and over again like a broken record player.

"EMERGENCY! EMERGENCY! ATTACK! ATTACK! THE KAKUSHI BASE IS UNDER ATTACK! CALLING FOR ALL NEARBY SLAYERS!"

The sheer number of them was carrying the sound so far, Their call could be heard for miles even all the way to the village. The song of their screams frantic as they all flapped in different directions, Disappearing into the dark horizon.

Tanjiro couldn't see anything, He couldn't smell anything either. The sheer amount of dust made from the debris had blocked up all of his senses making him uncontrollably cough within the smoke.

He stumbled around, The shock hadn't even hit him yet. One moment he was walking around the base and the next he had been flung to the tile roof, All due to that gust of wind.

The tall stone walls surrounding the shrine had suddenly been destroyed all within a single moment, Throwing chunks of rock and wood hurtling into the main body of the shrine and its people.

The screams and shouts of panicked crowds rung in his ear like a church bell reverberated to the nines. It felt so loud, So bloody loud that he thought his head might explode from the raw volume of the wails.

Tanjiro was dazed, It was all a blur moving in slow motion as he tried to catch his footing on the flat of the roof.

It was only then once his foot was steadied that he could finally sense an overbearing presence. Somewhere in the mist.

"Someone is here.."

A voice like faraway thunder jolted Tanjiro out of his stupor, A voice that shook Tanjiro deep down to his very bones. It was nothing like any kind of voice he had heard before, It didn't sound human and certainly didn't smell like it either.

A putrid stench had hit Tanjiro, A sudden smell had came to him and it almost made him drop his sword. This was no ordinary demon, The scent was overwhelming his senses of nothing but pure and utter power.

The gale's sole blessing had manifested in the clearing of the smoke. The after breeze lifting up the thickest points of dust and blowing them away, Yet some still remained as a dark figure was now made clearer.

But it was the figure's six medallion eyes, One's that shone like headlights through the fog that really caught Tanjiro by surprise.

His eyes widened as his arm went to the hilt of his sword on response, Yet when his hand went to grab it he felt absolutely nothing there.

He snapped his head to his empty belt. His heart seemed to stop in his chest.

He still hadn't gotten his new sword sent to him yet, It was still being sharpened. He was absolutely defenceless.

By the time he had looked back up at the figure the fog had cleared completely, The dust long cleared as his eyes settled upon the demon in front of him.

Tall. He was towering in height, Well over six foot at least. His hair tied into a dark spiked ponytail with red whisking at the tips as it flowed in the wind, His hexagonal kimono oversized in the arms as it moved with his hair.

But it was the kanji in his eyes that made him freeze.

"You.. Boy."

His voice rang out again as he turned to Tanjiro. He stumbled back, Despite the demon being a few metres away on the other side of the roof he was still too close, Way too close.

His eyes glared down to the younger slayer, Stabbing into every point of him. Scrutinizing him from afar before finally landing on the piece he feasted his gaze on. Two hanafuda earrings dangling from each ear.

Tanjiro watched as his expression went blank, Only for a couple of seconds before flinching when he saw the demon's mouth contort into a snarl. An angry visage that showed off his lion-like canines protruding from under his lips.

"I.. You.." Tanjiro stuttered. He tried backing away once more but the heel of his foot hit the tile railing. He watched as small bits of debris fell off the roof down to the floor below, It was a long drop. If he fell there was little to no chance of survival.

"Those earrings.." The demon drawled. It sounded like something was stuck within his throat, Something he was holding back. "How did you acquire them.."

Tanjiro tried to steady his heavy breathing as he stared him down. "I.. T-They're a family heirloom.." Was all that he was able to muster up, His voice shaking as much as he was.

Kokushibo felt himself tense up, All six eyes scrutinizing the earrings as he tried his best to calm down the building sense of rage starting to burn inside him. A family heirloom? His brother's earrings, A family heirloom. The idea of it sounded so stupid to him, Not to mention the mere reminder of his twin brother made his fingers twitch and grasp onto the hilt of his sword from instinct.

"A family heirloom.. Disgusting.." Kokushibo jeered. Feeling the words on his tongue he felt the previous anger inside come to a peak, This wasn't acceptable. Yorichii, Do I really need to be reminded of you even five hundred years later?

The sword from his hilt slid out of the sheathe with ease. The eyes embedded into the flesh of the sword darted around wildly, All examining its surroundings as the muscle pulsated.

He drew it to his side. Tanjiro's heartrate started to pick up, Feeling as if it would burst out of his chest as he watched Kokushibo get into a fighting stance. What would he do? He had no sword and there was no exit. What can he do? What can he do?!

Kokushibo pushed his foot forward, Lunging himself forward with his sword ready to slice. He was so fast, Tanjiro could barely raise his arms to his face. A weak attempt to defend himself as the blade drew nearer and nearer towards his neck

CLASH!

It was over in an instant.

Dust from the broken walls and ceiling tiles blew out out into the high night air, A whirlwind of smoke covering anything and everything in sight as pieces of stone and splinter flew off.

Tanjiro coughed once more, The dust blowing hard into his face. He moved his hands up towards his neck to check for any damage. Feeling it over and patting it a few times it felt.. All intact.

"What the.." Tanjiro muttered. His eyes widened as he watched the demon from before jump back into his original position, Landing a few metres away from Tanjiro in a crouched stance.

Tanjiro looked up and gasped.

"Fujimori-sama-!"

[F/N] stood only a few inches away from the younger boy. His position was low and his sword was drawn like a shield, Both it and his body creating a block between him and the demon.

[F/N] looked back towards him from the side, That old fox mask's mouth quirked up into the most reassuring smile it could. The eyes of the mask looking down at him in kind.

"Tanjiro Kamado… That was a close one, Eh?" A light chuckle came from him, Tone dancing in the air like the weight of the whole situation was lost to him entirely.

Tanjiro didn't even think to ask him why he knew his name, Something unimportant in that moment.

"Fujimori-sama.. The demon-"

"Don't worry about the demon. You don't exactly look like you have the proper weaponry to fight back so I suggest you start evacuating the shrine with everyone else, Alright?" [F/N] advised.

Tanjiro shook his head.

"What about you?! This.. This is Uppermoon one! He's strong, I can smell it! You can't take him on by yourself!" Tanjiro cried.

It didn't affect [F/N] in the slightest, Only making him raise a single brow.

"..Really?" He hummed, A playful tune lilting in the air to contrast the dire implications of his words. He seemed to stay there in thought, Only for a moment as Tanjiro watched the mask stare off into the night sky.

"He was able to sense me coming.. Not to mention block my attack.." He muttered, The mask contorting back into a thoughtful visage. An incomprehensible babble to the boy behind him as his eyes finally lit up, An unrecognisable emotion sparking inside his eyes.

The dust cleared once more, Kokushibo stood up to examine the sight.

His eyes landed on the Hashira a few metre's away, Crouched in a defensive position. In a split second that man was able to get himself in between him and the boy, Able to attack in that single moment.

It would of been impressive, Something he would of respected if not for the mans garments.

He wore his usual slayer uniform, Tight fitting and finished with a belt with open arms to show off tattoo's. But the haori draped loosely around his shoulders, That accursed haori drooping from his shoulders was one that shocked his heart like a amateur defibrillator.

The dragon pattern.. That cerulean blue.

"Michi-Nii!"

The grip on his sword hilt got tighter, Almost crushingly so.

How fucking dare he..?!

Kokushibo felt his nose twitch, Eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets as they trailed across the rest of him, Prying at every little detail of him. The kitsune mask resting upon his face, The medieval sword propped up in front of him like a shield.

"And does it work?" Michikatsu asked, Studying the mask.

"Haven't tried. It's a sacred artefact of the shrine. It would be a disrespect to Inari if I did." She stated.

A disrespect to her.

Two reminders of his late siblings, One beloved one despised. Both side by side with each other in such a short time frame. It made him absolutely furious, Outraged both by the resurfaced memories and the sheer dishonour towards his sister.

Both the renewment of the shrine and the man parading around with her haori..

It made him absolutely livid.

"You.. What is your name. Tell me it.. Now" Kokushibo pronounced through gritted teeth. It took every inch of his willpower not to pounce and tear him apart limb by limb, Bite into his jugular and rip his voice box out with his molars.

[F/N] finally seemed to snap out of his realisation as his mask's eyes landed on Kokushibo, That burning glint shining bright as he looked at him. The first time getting a proper look.

"Wow.. Uppermoon one, What a pleasure to meet you." [F/N] drawled, Yet it wasn't condescending. Standing up to his full height he matched Kokushibo perfectly, Both men locked in a stare down as [F/N] ignored his question.

Kokushibo didn't answer him, So [F/N] took the opportunity to speak once more.

"I see what Kamado here means about powerful.. Your soul certainly gives off that aura alright." He chuckled again, Taking a few drawn steps to the side.

"Kamado.." Kokushibo pondered. It only took a second to click in his head. The Kamado girl, The one his master had talked about during the meeting. If this boy was here then that would mean the demon girl was here, The one who conquered the sun.

[F/N]'s eyes narrowed.

"Ringing a bell?" He questioned, Cocking his head lazily to the side. Kokushibo didn't answer once again.

[F/N] examined him head to toe. His fingers, His ears and his sword. From his eyes to the soles of his sandals he simply radiated power. A feeling that permeated in the air making molecules shift in his presence.

A wild grin appeared not on his mask but on her face, A wide toothy grin that felt so foreign, So alien to her. It was a smile she hadn't made in years, One she couldn't supress even if she tried.

[F/N] peered back around to Tanjiro, Who was still behind him.

"Tanjiro. I need you to do me a favour, Alright?" He asked. His tone still containing that playful tint yet it held something different now, Something more serious.

Tanjiro nodded

"Y-Yeah, What do you need?" He asked.

[F/N] reached a single hand into the inside of his haori and slipped out a single pristine envelope, Perfectly packaged with a blue fox seal. He presented it to the younger boy, Who hesitantly took it into his hands.

"I need you to deliver this to Mitsuri Kanroji, Alright? Promise me that you will deliver this to her and place it in her hands personally yourself." [F/N] asked. That tone of importance growing ever stronger in both his voice and his mask's eyes.

Tanjiro's eyes widened as he looked down at the envelope, He nodded his head, Ignoring the scent that was coming off his elder. [F/N] turned back towards Kokushibo.

"Go now, Tanjiro. Find a handmaiden named Seijun, She'll help you and the rest down the mountain." He said, Not looking back at him for a second. Tanjiro nodded as he took off, Carefully scaling down the tiled roof's of the shrine.

Kokushibo looked back at the two, Readying his sword once more.

"No.. You're not getting away from me." He hissed, Raising the blade high in the air as he pointed at the two slayers.

[F/N] returned the gesture, His own heavy-weight sword lifted with ease as he pointed it straight back at him.

"Not if I have anything to say about it!" [F/N] exclaimed. The excitement returning to the tune of his voice, A wild primal excitement as he stared the demon on from behind his mask.

Kokushibo prepared his own stance, [F/N] did as well in turn.

As they finally charged at each other, [F/N] yelled out

"Soul Breathing, First form: Psyche Cutter!"

☆♡☆

Heavy footsteps hit the snow with a crunch, The large stature of the Stone Hashira leaving deep footsteps behind him as he traversed throughout the woodland mountainside.

Zenitsu, Inosuke and Shizuko. The younger slayers behind him trailed along with Gyomei's stride in search of the lost shrine-maiden.

Luckily the snow had stopped a little while ago, Making it easier to see throughout the vastness of the tall winding tree's.

It had been only half an hour since they started searching, Yet in that time they had made their way a few miles out from their starting point.

"M-Man.. Is it cold out here, Now I wish I just stayed at the base.." Zenitsu said through a chattering jaw, Keeping his arms folded to try and conserve heat as he warily looked for the maiden.

"Not for me! The mountains I ruled over got real snowy, So of course I evolved to be cold-blooded!" Inosuke announced in his march. It was true, Despite him being eternally shirtless in the blistering cold he didn't shake once despite all odds.

"T-That's impossible! You can't just evolve to be cold-blooded!" Zenitsu cried out, Annoyed from both the cold and his comrades announcement.

"Can too!" Inosuke argued.

"N-No you can't!" Zenitsu yelled back, His words eventually snowballing into a larger quarrel between the two boys. Both seeming to believe whoever yelled louder was correct.

"Ngh.. Can you two shut up? You're giving me a headache.." Shizuko groaned, Cupping his ears with his hands in annoyance.

The two boys ignored him and continued their argument as they trailed behind Himejima. Zenitsu and Inosuke not backing down for a single second while Shizuko gritted his teeth. Gyomei didn't seem to particularly mind, If he did he didn't show it, His stoic expression painted on him like a portrait.

They hadn't found the shrine-maiden, Even though they had been searching for a fair amount of time there no trace of her prescence.

There wasn't any footsteps or any blood, Absolutely nothing.

The rattling of Gyomei's beads slowed as his whitened eyes narrowed in thought. Gyomei had assumed that the most likely scenario was that the maiden had trouble either getting down or getting back up the mountain, Though now that seemed a dwindling possibility.

He sighed, Letting cold mist escape from his mouth.

"Seems like the maiden isn't here.. It's probably for the better that we move down towards the village and check in with the locals." Gyomei announced as he turned around to face the younger slayers, To whom were still fighting.

Shizuko groaned once more before raising his flat hand and bringing it down hard onto both their heads.

"Ne, Stop arguing and start listening to Himejima-sensei! You're giving me a migraine and we're no closer to finding the maiden.. No thanks to you.." He scolded. A rare angry expression appearing on his face with those same perpetually wide eyes glaring daggers into the boys.

"Ack-! W-What the hell man! We are looking!" Zenitsu yelped out, Hands rushing to the quickly forming sore spot on his head.

"I am! I can see a lot of things. Snow, Tree's, Shrubs!" Inosuke butted in. Shizuko groaned once more, Even though they had stopped their spat never quelled.

"Birds, Twigs, Red Fabric, Flakes of snow!" He continued.

Both Gyomei and Shizuko's heads snapped round to face Inosuke, A sudden movement that made his rant pause in its tracks.

"What? Why are you looking at me like that?!" Inosuke questioned, His vision rapidly darting to both Shizuko and Gyomei in seconds like a cornered animal.

"Red fabric..? Where do you see that?" Gyomei asked.

"By that tree over there, To the left!" Inosuke said. Arm pointing up straight to a tree just off to the side of the trail they were going down. And sure enough swaying in the wind was an untethered piece of crimson cloth, Blowing in the breeze.

Zenitsu was the first to get over to the fabric, Catching up with it and snatching it away from the wind.

"You're right.. B-But this could be any random piece of fabric.. It doesn't really mean much." He muttered. The piece was too small to make out any defining shape, So small that it was only as big as his thumb.

"Shizuko.." Gyomei ordered an unspoken action, Nodding his head forward towards the boy.

Shizuko nodded back as he quickly moved over to Zenitsu without a second thought and put out his hand.

"Ne, Give it here.." Shizuko commanded, Impatiently shaking his hand as he beckoned Zenitsu forward.

"O-Okay.." Zenitsu muttered as he placed the cloth into the palm of Shizuko, To which the latter shuddered as soon as the fabric brushed at his skin.

Shizuko took the sanguine felt into both of his hands with an obvious reluctance as it looked like he was holding back his own puke. He ran his nimble fingers along the surface of it, Nose scrunching up in disgust as he spoke.

"Ngh.. It's mostly Linen however I can feel a minority of cotton as well.. Ne.. Fairly thick, 0.73 inches.. But judging by the weavement of the fabric it's most likely worn by someone of shorter stature.." Shizuko explained.

"Ngh.. So in other words, It fits the description of the lost maiden.." He concluded, Instantly dropping it back into Zenitsu's hold as he finished his last syllable.

"I see.. And is it fresh?" Gyomei asked.

"Felt like it.." Shizuko replied.

They stayed silent after that. Gyomei seemed to furrow his brows as his mind worked away at the next possibility. Both Shizuko and Inosuke seemed lost in their own world as well, The former following his master in thought while Inosuke seemed to trail along as well.

"She must be somewhere around here.. We must circle back around, She may already be-" Gyomei stopped out of the blue, His words cut off as his senses picked up a change in one of the slayers.

Zenitsu had frozen up, And it wasn't from the cold atmosphere.

"Child.. What is the matter?" Gyomei asked as his tone grew only a little more serious as he stopped the rattling of his beads.

Zenitsu seemed to be sweating bullets as he seemed intently focused on some unknown force. His eyes were shot open and he started to shake, Teeth barren and fingers twitching as he raised his hands up to his ears.

"I.. I-I hear it.." Zenitsu mumbled out an uneasy lilt, Jaw shaking.

"Hear what?" Gyomei prodded.

"T-The Kasugai crows.. The Kakushi base.. I-It's being attacked!" Zenitsu yelped out, Stumbling back a few feet.

A unanimous shock washed over the group like a tidal wave to a sandy shore, The news startling everyone on edge.

"What?!" Shizuko yelled in disbelief as he moved over to Zenitsu. Lowering his head to meet eye to eye as he searched for any sign of doubt, An unsure gaze, Anything he could find to try disprove his declaration.

But he came up empty, Only staring back into shaking saffron irises. The hands over Zenitsu's ears tightened as he howled out in pain. He fell to his knees, The sheer volume of the crows combined with his hearing was too much as he felt ichor start to trickle at his fingertips.

"Zoritso!" Inosuke called out as he instantly rushed over to his friend's side.

Gyomei at this point had unsheathed the axe and chain from within his overbearing haori, Already given enough confirmation from his Tsuguko's reaction as he tightened the grip on the wooden handle and chain.

He ignored the suffering of the younger slayers, His expression firming up.

"We must go at once then, No time to spa-"

"Blood Demon Art: Electrokinesis, Third form: Thunder Swarm!" A voice suddenly yelled out from within the storm and as soon as it finished, The attack commenced.

Black bolts of lightning shot out of nowhere, Bursting out from the blade of Kaigaku, Leaping down from the tree branches.

☆♡☆

"I'll see you soon, 'Tsuri"

Those words. Those five simple words echoed in every little corner of her mind. On paper they seemed so little, So obscure. Small talk to the normal ear, In a normal conversation it would be such a normal farewell and by all means it was.

But it just didn't sit right, Not with Mitsuri.

She ran fast through the snow, Her legs were burning as she tried to focus her total concentration breathing. She maneuvered around rocks and over fallen logs, Carefully but quickly ascending the tough terrain with ease.

Her heart pounded so rapidly in her chest so much so that it was painful yet Mitsuri continued onwards. She had to keep going, She needed to get to the shrine as fast as possible.

Keep going, Don't stop. Not for a single moment.

Mitsuri had been running for who knows long, Hours maybe, She hadn't stopped for a second. An awful feeling sat dormant in her chest, A foreboding omen that unsettled her for too long.

As soon as she had heard those five little words she'd known that something was wrong-

No. Mitsuri had always known something was wrong. A draining parasite that sat in the back of her mind, Eating away at her for years now. Those words.. It was just those five little words that made her realise what that something was.

The parasite had been nibbling away at her, Planting little ideas of possibility and doubt into her passing thoughts every time she and [F/N] talked. Back then she had brushed them off, Not completely of course but enough to where there was plausible deniability. Just enough to where she could push it out of her mind.

But when [F/N] had muttered those words, Spoke them in such a normal tone of voice there was absolutely no more avoiding it. Her doubts, The possibilities.. She needed to face them.

Or maybe it wasn't those words specifically, It was the way [F/N] had looked at her when she said them.

Her stare, Her blank doe-eyed gaze permeated into Mitsuri's mind. The picture in her mind vivid as it was as she first saw it.

The smile [F/N] had on her face just didn't quite reach her eyes, A small little smile that felt so wrong looking back on it. The dull stare that pleaded to Mitsuri's own, Begging her no matter how unconsciously it may have been.

It was such a melancholy gaze, A sad little smile. She remembers now the tiny quirk of her lip.

Mitsuri should of done something sooner.

Back then Mitsuri herself couldn't process the deeper meaning. But she remembered her body reacted sooner than she herself should of, Grasping onto [F/N]. Holding her hand as she tried to get inside the carriage.

Subconsciously she had recognised the meaning. She should of said something, Should of done something. Ask her to stay the night, Go with her, Or even just offer her a simple hug then maybe [F/N] wouldn't think that way.

But in the end she did nothing. She just let go of her hand, Feeling the warmth slip away from her grasp.

Only a few hours later did the true meaning really render inside of her mind, And when it did it hit her like nothing else ever did before. What it meant, She knows now.

As soon as Mitsuri knew she had taken off, Running off into the streets without a second thought. Something bad would happen, Something terrible would happen if she didn't get there to her on time.

Mitsuri knew she shouldn't of let go of [F/N]'s hand. The regret pounding throughout her bloodstream as she felt tears involuntarily drip down her cheeks. She shouldn't of let go.

Even though she didn't do anything back then didn't mean she couldn't do something to stop it now. Mitsuri needed to, She wouldn't let [F/N] slip away once more. Never again, She will be there for her this time.

And as she heard the call of the crows, Mitsuri knew that this would be her last chance to do so.

☆♡☆

"Moon Breathing, Fourteenth Form: Catastrophe, Tenman Crescent Moon"

Siphoning ultraviolet crescents flew out haphazardly into the fighting ground, Crashing down onto the nigh-derelict rooftops throwing rubble out everywhere. Several stray crescents hurtling past the slayer, Barely able to avoid the attack.

It was absolute chaos, Pandemonium. A spectacle of whip-like half-moons striking at it's enemy so swift that any normal person would be severed in half in an instant.

By chance however [F/N] was no ordinary person as he dodged and weaved throughout what very little openings were given, Body contorting and swimming through the gaps as he tried his very best to land his own attacks.

"Soul Breathing Second Form: Seven Separate Spirit Slashes"

"Moon Breathing, Seventh Form: Mirror of Misfortune, Moonlit"

"Soul Breathing Sixth Form: Apotheosis Blade o' Ascension"

"Moon Breathing, Ninth Form: Waning Moonswaths"

Kokushibo never gave much of a chance however, His movements or slashes of his sword never strayed from what could be considered perfect form. The closest so far [F/N] had come to severing his head was when he had lobbed off an arm, Which regenerated within a split second.

It was enough to frustrate anyone, Anyone but [F/N].

The wide smile he had worn at the prospect of a fight had grown into a euphoric grin stretched ear to ear. For the first time in years, [F/N] had felt alive.

Though the several cuts on his arms and legs bled, Though he had been fighting for several hours he had never gotten tired. Not once did he falter or stumble, Not once did he succumb to exhaustion.

Not even the aching in his lungs, Which grew more painful with every breathe he took. The adrenaline made him feel nothing.

Kokushibo on the other hand felt the same way, Yet the anger in his chest only seemed to infest inside him more and more as the fight went on. He wanted this one to suffer, He wanted to watch this one bleed out on the ground while he crushed his windpipe.

The disrespect he had shown, Both to him and his sister. The careless attitude The Hashira had towards him, The haori he was desecrating. It made him absolutely furious. Even more so when he found more difficulty than normal when attacking him.

His transparent world showing his body to be at it's peak potential, Though oddly enough he wasn't able to see through the porcelain mask on his body. Kokushibo had to admit this was the longest fight he'd had in centuries.

The man he fought having zero fighting spirit, An oddity. Something he had never came across within a human, Combined with the mastery of the blade and his repetitive action movement he made a formidable combatant.

Even though he despised his opponent, He had to lend a begrudging respect.

[F/N]'s sword swayed along with his own movements. White wisps of translucent mist danced along the blade and left a shivering trail as it went. It was beautiful, Glowing so softly in the moonlight yet it struck so hard it burned like fire.

[F/N] landed in a crouching position after dodging another attack just by the hair on his back. Pushing both his hand and foot forward he launched himself towards Uppermoon one at high speeds.

Yelling out his next attack he readied his sword

"Soul Breathing Fifth Form: Noumenon High Dragon!"

The wisps tailing the edge of his blade were set ablaze, Picking up in velocity the trail formed into a tail as [F/N] rushed towards Kokushibo.

The demon readied his own attack in turn as The Soul Hashira's technique bursting into the shape of a gigantic jaw-opened dragon speeding towards his form, Twisting and swirling around the demon ready to swallow him whole.

"Moon Breathing, Sixth Form: Perpetual Night, Lonely Moon - Incessant"

Kokushibo swung his own sword down as soon the dragons gaping maws were about to bite down on him, An array of hyper-violet crescents exploded from Kokushibo's blade.

The sheer kinetic energy caused by the clashing of their swords erupted from the centre of it all like an immovable object to an unstoppable force. The energy hit the ground below them, Blasting both of them apart by the raw force.

Flying off of the tiled roof, [F/N] was shot up far into the air with Kokushibo in the opposite direction.

[F/N] yelled out in surprise as he flailed around in the air, Spinning and swooning around as he started to fall downwards.

Wind rushing through his kimono as he watched the ground grow larger and larger. He raised his sword and took a deep breath in, Ready to counteract gravity with the force of an attack.

"Soul Breathing Third Form: Soul fire, Burn bright!"

Just as he was about to hit the ground he struck his sword, His breathing technique bursting out into a bonfire as it connected with the dirt of the courtyard.

It was successful. Enough to stop the fall but also enough to throw him back up.

Luckily however he had hit one of the lower roofs of the shrine. And thankfully due to his recovery breathing the damage wasn't serious, Only a few scratches and later bruises to decorate his skin.

"Ack-.." [F/N] coughed, The dust from the impact hitting him as he lain sprawled out on the roof. His chest moved up and down, Breathing in and out while only feeling a tiny bit of pain in his ribs.

"Wow.. That could of been bad.." He heaved, Voice hoarse and rough. He raised his upper body so he was now in a hunched sitting position, Completely still except from the movements of his lungs.

[F/N] sat there for a moment not moving in the slightest. He could no longer sense Kokushibo's powerful aura, At least not nearby anyways. It seemed like the force of their blades clashing sent him flying to the other side of the shrine.

That's fine. It gave [F/N] time to recuperate from the non-stop attacks they threw at each other, He needed to savour these moments as best he could.

[F/N] looked around at the destruction of the shrine, It hurt. It felt like his heart was wrenched out of his chest every time he came across levelled rooms, Broken walls and fallen statues.

The home [F/N] resided in for years, One that had provided warmth and comfort when nothing else did had been destroyed. Memories long gone played out in his mind as he came to terms with his loss. It didn't matter now though, He supposed.

He ran his hands down his body to examine for wounds. Feeling along the torn fabric of his uniform and the dips in his flesh [F/N] figured that he wasn't too badly injured. While there were a few points where his fingers came up bloody he had judged it wasn't too bad.

It didn't hurt anyways, Not to him.

Settling his hands onto the roof he pushed himself up with only minimal effort. Stumbling a little to gather his balance he finally steadied himself upon the roof's wooden structure in the middle, Walking on it similar to a tight-rope.

He stalked along the middle beam, Movements similar to a feline's as he put one foot in front of the other.

Rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck [F/N] decided it was time to go back into battle. He needed to at least buy enough time for the last of the residents to evacuate the building, Afterwards there was only one thing left to do.

As he strolled along the edge of the roof he made his way to the end, Lowering his knees and k-

"[F/N]!!"

He froze in place.

That voice, No.. She wasn't supposed to be here. This wasn't how it went in his head, Not at all.

"[F/N]! P-Please.. Turn around.. Alright?" The voice yelled, A high-pitched tone that sounded so desperate in that one moment that [F/N] couldn't disobey.

And once he did turn around, The expression on Mitsuri's face hurt more than any wound inflicted on his body.

"'Tsuri, Hey! You're not suppose to be here.. You know?" [F/N] chuckled, A practiced sound that seemed so strained now as the façade he had tried to build up for so long crumbled down around him along with the shrine.

Mitsuri was sobbing. Tears leaked out from her face like a faucet, Her eyes were bloodshot like she had been crying for a while. Something that was most likely true. Every so often she let out a small choked wail from within her throat, Gasps for air following it close.

It looked as if her knee's would buckle under her weight. It was such a painful sight that [F/N] couldn't bare to look at her.

It felt like his heart was beating a hundred miles per hour, Thumping madly in her chest like a metal drum. He tried to keep a straight face, Some kind of mental barrier he could place between him and the woman he called his best friend.

"D-Don't act like that.. Just.. P-Please just don't act like that right now, [F/N].." Mitsuri yelled out, Her voice pained and shrill.

"'Tsuri.. I.." [F/N] couldn't find the words to say, His mind blank. No words could explain himself, None at all.

"I-I don't wanna hear an excuse.. Please.. I.. I just want to talk.. N-No excuses or lies.. Just the truth." She cried.

[F/N] stared back at her through the mask, Guts turning at the sight. However the porcelain face held up as he wore a blank face, One you might see at a poker table. He mulled over her words, An unnoticeable cold sweat suddenly dripping down from the side of his head.

"..Okay" [F/N] whispered. It was such a low tone but in that single moment it felt like it was just the two of them in the world, Making his mumble seem like a deafening scream to her ears.

"[F/N].. I.. I'm so sorry.." Mitsuri cried. She brought her shaking hands up to cup her face as she cried into them, A fleeting attempt to hide her grief.

[F/N] shook his head.

"Mitsuri.. What do you need to be sorry for?" [F/N] said. A levelled tone playing in his voice.

"I.. I s-should of done something sooner.. I should've known that you were feeling like this, I.. Why couldn't I notice.." She shook her head warily, Trying her best to hold back the choked sobs from her throat.

[F/N] steadied his breathing, He couldn't break.

"Mitsuri, I'm fine. You don't need to wo-"

"[F/N] I'M NOT STUPID, JUST LISTEN TO ME!" Mitsuri screamed.

[F/N] flinched, The sheer volume of it catching him of guard. In all of his years knowing Mitsuri, [F/N] had never seen him act like this, Like a completely new person stood before him now.

"I-I'm not stupid.. I can see how everyone's feeling.. I can always tell how angry Shinobu is or- or how unhappy Giyuu is all the time.. I can see how everyone is truly feeling, That's always been my talent.." Mitsuri lamented.

She wiped off the tears with her sleeve

"A-And just because you hide behind a mask.. That doesn't make you an exception, [F/N]! It never has..!" Mitsuri shouted once more, Now staring up at her best friend. The person she's known all her life freeze in place like a statue at her words.

"It's just.. All the time you're so.. So sad.. I-I've known you for so long and it's been going on.. F-For the same length of time.. S-So much that I just took it as normal but looking back now I feel so- so stupid!" She cried out.

[F/N] couldn't respond, He felt like a spotlight had been shun directly on him now. Like he stood in front of an unwanted audience as he stared her down.

"Y-You're scaring me, [F/N].. Y-You're really, really scaring me.. Just please.. T-Take off the mask.." Mitsuri broke down into a quiet sob, Soft cries aching her throat.

[F/N] looked back at her, An indescribable emotion etched into the porcelain of the mask. He felt his fingers twitch before raising them towards the straps. Lightly unlocking the clasp at the back she pulled the leather down from her head, Lowering the kitsune mask into the palms of her hands.

[F/N] stood there, The blank expression she wore was flooded with tears flowing free from her eyes as she gazed down at her best friend breaking down. Her lip twitched, Unable to say anything as she barely held back quiet cries of her own.

"'Tsuri.. Please, Just don't look at me like that. Just.. Just don't" [F/N] said, Swallowing back her pain.

"I.. I just.. I.." Mitsuri babbled as she clutched the centre of her chest, Trying to soothe the ache of her heart.

"You've got to leave.. 'Tsuri, It's not safe here, Alright..? I've got to get back to the fight.."

"N-No!" Mitsuri yelped out, Cutting off [F/N] prematurely.

"P-Please.. 'Tsuri, You've got to go.." [F/N] said. Her breath was growing more laboured by the second as the tears dripped down her eyes.

"N-No, You're not going back to the fight, [F/N].. Y-You can't go, You can't.. I.." She bit down on her lip, The thought trailing with her words were cut short.

"Why..?"

"B-Because when when you go into that fight.. Y-You're hoping that you won't come out of it.. And it terrifies me.." Mitsuri cried.

Her words felt like a knife jabbing into [F/N]'s heart, Like a blade was eternally twisting and turning inside of her arteries. It hurt, Out of everyone she had ever met, Mitsuri was the last one she would have wanted to say that to her.

"J-Just please.. G-Get off the roof, Come down.. D-Do not waste yourself on this roof, [F/N]. D-Don't you remember our promise..? Please.. J-Just come to me..?" Mitsuri pleaded, Reaching her hand out for [F/N] to take.

Her words felt so enticing, Like an oasis in a scorching desert.

Something she had been searching years for, Only to turn up in a gift wrapped box sitting on her doorstep. [F/N] felt her fingers twitch, So desperately wanting to reach out and take her hands.

But the letter had already been sent, Her mind had already been made up so long ago. As much as she wanted to hold her hand, Run away and never look back [F/N] knew that it wouldn't be enough.

"'Tsuri.." [F/N] mumbled. Mitsuri caught on quickly to her tone and her eyes widened.

"N-No, [F/N]! Please.. Come down, P-Please just take my hand.. PLEASE!" She cried out as she watched [F/N] place the mask back on the now his face.

"'Tsuri.. Do not feel guilty over me, You were the best friend I could of ever asked for. You did your best.." [F/N] smiled.

The mask was now matching his expression as it looked down on Mitsuri, Who rushed forward but her knees finally buckled making her fall forward.

"Ah-!" She cried out. [F/N] tried to resist the urge to go and help as he spoke.

"'Tsuri.. You still haven't recovered from the swordsmith village attack.. Not to mention it looks like you've been running for hours.

"Please, Don't exert any more energy." [F/N] said as he turned around back towards the direction Kokushibo would be in.

Mitsuri screamed out for [F/N].

"P-PLEASE, [F/N]! L-LET ME COME WITH YOU, PLEASE! A-AT LEAST LET ME COME WITH YOU. W-WE GO TOGETHER, L-LIKE WE ALWAYS HAVE! TOGETHER!!" Her voice was so painful it tore a hole into [F/N] as he tried not to run to her side.

"I'm sorry, 'Tsuri.. Between the two of us, You have people that will miss you. There are a lot of people out there who love you, Adore you not just for your strength but just for yourself. Between the two of us.. You'll have people who will mourn your loss." [F/N] said.

Mitsuri didn't even have time to scream out as Seijun rushed over from somewhere south. She had been put to help with evacuations and Mitsuri's screams had alerted her over.

"[F/N]-sama! Kanroji-san, Are you both alright?!" Seijun asked, Alarmed by the incoherent babble of Mitsuri in front of her as she desperatley tried to pull herself to her feet. A futile attempt as she just fell back down.

"..We're alright, Thank you.. I hope evacuations are going well?" [F/N] asked. Cocking his head to the side as he tried his best to focus on the maiden instead of the mourning.

"Smoothly. Due to the combined efforts of the slayers and the handmaidens, The first round of escapee's have successfully gotten away… Though there are quite a few many still around.." Seijun said, Quickly bowing down to her superior.

[F/N] nodded.

"Seijun. Thank you for helping out with the evacuations, I sincerely appreciate it.. All I ask of you now is that you could escort Kanroji-san out of the area. She's in no state to fight and is delirious." [F/N] turned back to look at the two, A reassuring smile sat uneasy on the mask.

Seijun nodded as she started to pick up Mitsuri by the armpits. At the touch of the handmaiden Mitsuri instantly started to scream and flail around in her grasp, In complete hysterics as she cried out [F/N]'s name.

"Kanroji-san, Please calm down-"

"[F/N]! [F/N]! PLEASE! L-LET GO OF ME, LET ME GO! [F/N] COME DOWN, COME TO ME PLEASE- I CAN'T DO THIS WITHOUT YOU!" She screamed. Despite her inhuman strength her muscles were so tired from both her injuries and the marathon here that she could barely even struggle in Seijun's hold, Just scream and scream as she tried to get out of her grasp.

[F/N] turned back, Walking on the roof like a lamb to the slaughter as he tried his best to ignore the gut-wrenching pain in his stomach. He had made up his mind, And as much as [F/N] adored Mitsuri it wasn't going to change anything.

Her screams got further and further away as he drew his sword once more.

As they did, He raised his head high and smiled.

☆♡☆

"Blood Demon Art: Electrokinesis, Third form: Thunder Swarm!"

Black bolts of ebony struck down from Kaigaku's blade, The steel conducting the movements as he brought it down onto the group of slayers he had been tracking for quite a while now.

Several yells called out into the vastness of the forest, Snow exploding into the air once the thunder whipped at the ground. Kaigaku cackled as he heard the screams of his prey, The game of cat and mouse had begun.

He had leapt out from one of the tree branches, Ones he had been carefully maneuvering on as he quietly trailed along with the group.

Kaigaku had struck at the right time, They had taken the bait. The red cloth was a carefully placed lure he had swiftly placed in order to lead them into a honey trap, It was easy. Especially once he knew who he was dealing with.

He was shocked at first. Not in a million years did he expect to come across them, Not at all. It was something that seemed impossible to him, But here he was pouncing in for the attack.

Gyomei, Zenitsu, Shizuko. Along with that boar-headed kid they were well-known targets, Once he had lain his eyes on them his heart seemed to soar in his chest. A sadistic kind of glee bursting up from inside of him.

People who had looked down on him in the past, People who had treated him like he was just another person and not the prodigy he really was. The kind of people he truly despised were right in front of him, All grouped together.

Even though he was ordered to attack the shrine from the other side, He had to take this. It was an opportunity he couldn't pass by on, Not for a single second.

They group was launched into the air. The force pushing them away from the focal point as Kaigaku watched the boar-headed kid land into a tree, Hitting his head and passing out while the other two kids were pushed off a steep hill.

He laughed like a closing in hyena. His body falling close to the ground as he prepared to land, All before a chain launches out of the snow dust, Hurtling straight towards the demon.

Kaigaku swerved. Only dodging the metal by a hair as the mist finally cleared, Revealing The Stone Hashira standing strong in-between the snow. Chains in hand he swayed them about as the axe in his hand started to swing between his fingers.

Another chain shot out from beneath his haori sending it straight towards him at nigh-impossible speeds.

Kaigaku breathed in to steady his style. Tossing his sword up into the air he threw out a hand and wrapped it tight around the chain. Tugging once he screamed out into the night

"Blood demon art-"

An explosion of electricity erupted out from his palms, A black current travelling down the steel chain as it quickly developed into a shockwave heading straight towards Gyomei.

Sensing the incoming thunder he let go of the chain and threw out the axe as it hurtled towards Kaigaku.

Catching his sword in a single hand Kaigaku brought it down with a clash! The metal hitting together with hot sparks bursting out from the sheer force of their connection.

Kaigaku landed on the floor. Gyomei's axe successfully deflected as he hit the ice, Steadying himself with a single hand as he peered up at the Hashira with a Cheshire grin.

"Gyomei.. You've bulked up a bit since I last saw you." Kaigaku sneered. A condescending drawl drawing out every syllable as he peered up at his former peer.

Gyomei halted in his actions, A sudden stop to his quick movements. Grasping the unelectrified chains it pulled on the axe, Catching it in a single hand as he froze in place.

"That voice.. It cannot be.." He muttered. Memories seemed sing out inside of his mind, Voices he remembered coming back to him for the first time in years. Ones he had pushed away, Hidden and ran from yet all coming up within the brutal song of the demon's voice.

Kaigaku's grin grew bigger.

"What? It's not the kid you let be thrown out? The person you discarded so easily? The one whose gonna put this blade through your skull?" Kaigaku cackled, Raising his sword and pointing to the sharp metal.

"Oh.. Right. My bad, You're unable to see the thing that's gonna to kill you. How sad!" Kaigaku laughed as he gripped the side of his head, Tufts of ebony hair sticking out as he hollered like it was the funniest thing in the world.

Gyomei's frown got sharper.

"A low hanging insult.. Even for you, Kaigaku.. It pains me to know how badly you've fallen.." Gyomei lamented as he recalled back on the time's they shared together.

Kaigaku, An orphaned child. One of nine who he had taken in at his temple, One of nine who he cared for like his very own. One of the children who he had worked himself down to the bone for, Tried his hardest everyday to provide for. Even going as far as to starve himself just so they would have enough food to satisfy them.

Even though he was blind, Even though he was starving almost every second of the day making him frail and scrawny he worked to provide.

He had considered them all family, Even if they had no blood connection it never mattered. The covenant was stronger than the womb, They loved each other no matter how bad it would get.

But that one fateful day, That one day was like carved stone in his mind. The wisteria incense put out, The betrayal he had known as he heard the screams of terror from the children he considered family.

Kaigaku had been a thief, He always had been. But when he had gone so far as to sneak out at night, Run into a demon and sacrifice the peers he had known just for a chance at survival that wasn't even guaranteed.

They were all slaughtered by the very thing Kaigaku chose to become. It proved how little he cared, How little humanity he had in the first place.

In the end, He could only save two. And it cost him his freedom, His chance at a normal life.

All because of the demon in front of him.

"How badly I've fallen? Gyomei, I'm upper six now! I've been risen to such great heights, By a man who could actually see my worth!" Kaigaku proclaimed, Raising his hands out as if to announce this to the world.

Gyomei paused, Letting the words sink in.

"Then.. I doubt that man was a good judge of character.. You've always been such a weaselly little boy." Gyomei stated. Even though he couldn't see he could practically feel the sudden drop in Kaigaku's smile.

Kaigaku stood there, The hands he had raise shook. This wasn't the answer he had been expecting from the man.

"..How dare you.. My master is an honourable man! He knows my worth!" Kaigaku yelled out. Baring his canines out towards The Stone Hashira who stood there motionless, Starting to rattle his beads once more.

"No.. You've always been such a pitiful little thing.. Such a selfish child.. You have as much worth as a rat in the gutter." Gyomei announced with such a sad and nostalgic tone, Yet it held so much weight that it felt like a stone to the head to Kaigaku.

His jaw fell agape, Displaying his rows of sharp teeth. From the way Kaigaku was imagining this day in his head, He didn't expect this of all responses.

He had envisioned the sheer pain drown out the features on Gyomei's face, Tears drip down from his eyes as he begged for forgiveness under the sharp point of Kaigaku's claws. He'd cry, Yell in pain as he was slowly mutilated in the slowest way possible.

He didn't expect to be fixed in place, Feet feeling so heavy he was unable to lift them. Unable to do anything as he stared him down. He felt helpless, So helpless. And that made him angry.

"I-I am powerful now! I am strong! You just can't comprehend how powerful I am now, Y-You're the one that's weak! You just can't believe how great I am now!" Kaigaku yelled, His voice suddenly sounding hoarse as he gripped the hilt of his sword tighter.

"Really.. Are you really that great?" Gyomei asked quietly.

"O-Of course I am!" Kaigaku yelled back in response.

"Then.. If you truly are.. You would know a distraction when you see one.." Gyomei finished.

Kaigaku's brow raised before a sudden prescense- No, Two presences appearing from behind him at nigh-impossible speeds.

He only turned around in time to see the two boys, Zenitsu and Shizuko, The two boys he knew so well raise their swords in a prepared attack.

"Thunder Breathing, First Form: Thunderclap and Flash"

"Earth Breathing, Second Form: Seismic Shake"

They screamed in unison, Only a few feet away from Kaigaku's stunned body as they raised their respective weapons. Thunder started to crackle at the metal of Zenitsu's katana while the murky smell of fresh compost emanated from Shizuko's machete as they charged towards him.

Kaigaku lowered his knee's and jumped back just in time to avoid the massive crater left in the place where he stood.

"You bastards-!" Kaigaku screamed out as he was flown out into the air. He looked down at the horrified visage of Zenitsu, While he scowled at the enraged Shizuko as they jumped up towards him once more.

"Ne, You're one to talk..!" Shizuko screamed as he used the tree branches to throw himself up to Kaigaku's level.

"K-Kaigaku.. How could you!" Zenitsu cried as he followed in his peer's footsteps.

"Oh shut up you wimp! You know exactly why!" Kaigaku screamed as he watched the two slayers come up towards him, Preparing another attack.

Just as the two were about to swing their weapons a metal flail flew out from beneath them all, Shooting out towards Kaigaku.

This isn't good, This isn't good at all. Kaigaku was seething, This moment was suppose to be glorious with him on top and those below quivering under his iron fist. But he had no more time to daydream as he was about to be attacked on three separate fronts.

Zenitsu directly below, Shizuko from the front and Gyomei from the side. He couldn't lose, He was special.

Quickly, Kaigaku had no time to think as he activated his blood demon art. His sword igniting as he yelled out his attack.

"Thunder Breathing, Fourth Form: Distant Thunder!"

Kaigaku screamed out as bolts erupted from the cold steel of his sword, A versatile attack reaching in all directions. Below, Front and side thunder crackled out in response to the attack.

He wouldn't let them kill him, Anyone but them. He knew he was worthy, But also knew he had to prove it.

And this was the perfect way

☆♡☆

Kokushibo stood in the middle of the rubble, Standing in the midst of broken wood, stone and clay as he examined his surroundings.

He had been thrown to the other side of the shrine, An unexpected force from the joint impact pushing him off the roof. Kokushibo had meant to get back to the fight, Get back to that accursed Hashira.

But as he looked around, He found himself hesitating.

He took a deep breath in, Inhaling the cold night's air into his lungs as he reminisced on old memories. It would be the last time he would ever get to experience this after all, The shrine was in complete disrepair now.

It was bittersweet, The memories he had here played in front of him like a reeling tape. How he'd come back from a mission only to be greeted with the smell of stewing vegetables and sweet berries. He'd smile and walk inside only to be greeted by [F/N] and Yorichii.

Now the mere scent of human food disgusted him.

The shrine would be destroyed, Not like there was much to save in the first place. The slayers had desecrated it, Infected it like parasites and transfigured it into something unrecognisable from its original state.

And just like a parasite leeching on the flesh of an arm, The only solution was to cut it off. It wasn't her shrine he was destroying, No. It was already gone, He was just levelling another base of operations. Nothing more.

Kokushibo was brought out of his thoughts by the sound of footsteps hitting the tiles, A slow pace as they walked up to his location down below in the garden

He turned, Looking up to see that slayer on top of a roof point, Balancing on a single foot. The moon shone down from behind him, High in the sky to illuminate their oncoming brawl as his haori danced in the breeze.

A neuron clicked within Kokushibo's mind once his sight connected with the mans stance, A realisation dawning on him.

"You.. I remember you now.." Kokushibo drawled as he fully turned over to look up at him.

"Really? I don't remember us ever meeting." [F/N] said carelessly, Yet there was still a hint of curiosity in him as he waited for the demon to go on.

"No.. We have not met.. But you, You are the slayer who killed one thousand of my kind.. In a single year.." Kokushibo said, Eyes narrowing as he stared him down.

He remembered his the notice from his master ringing inside his mind, The announcement demanding the death of this slayer for the crime of efficiency. This one single demon hunter had managed to cause such alarm in Muzan, A feat never done before.

They had never managed to catch him, The slayer was rather tricky.

Moved about place to place and never lingered long, Never slept in any inn's or districts. Any demon that did come face to face with him however was instantly shot down and killed in seconds.

Normally, Kokushibo would hate to see a waste of talent die out. He never understood why slayers would prefer staying human, Instead of becoming a demon to perfect and hone their technique to perfection.

But knowing the weight this man had, Knowing the haori he disgraced and the artefacts he wore with no care. Kokushibo had no bargain to present to the slayer, Instead enticed by bringing his head back to Muzan for the reward.

"What is your name.." Kokushibo asked.

"Fujimori." [F/N] replied, Shrugging his shoulders.

"Your full name.." Kokushibo prodded.

[F/N] wondered why he wanted to know, Why it was necessary information. But in the end he supposed that the demon wanted to know what name to write on the trophy stand.

"It's just Fujimori." [F/N] answered back, If that was the case then he wouldn't give him the satisfaction. If he was going down then he was going to make it as inconvenient as possible for his killer.

Kokushibo breathed out hot air from his nose. The careless tone in the slayers voice angered him, How could he be taking this so casually? A fight with Uppermoon one and he took it like child's play.

It was infuriating.

He drew out his sword once more, The flesh pulsating as it grew out in length. [F/N] in turn drew his own blade from the sheathe on his back, Pointing it at him like the judge to the accused.

"Alright then. Don't hold out now, Better give me all you've got!" [F/N] laughed as he jumped down from the shrine spire, Sword raised as he swung it down.

"Soul Breathing, First Form: Psyche Cutter!" He screamed, Sword alight with white wisps as it hit down onto the place Kokushibo once was, Rocks erupting out leaving only a crater.

[F/N] turned around, Seeing Kokushibo about to pierce into his back he raised his sword in response.

Metal on flesh connected with a clash! Both swordsmen's blades pushed against each other, Battling for that single opening to end the fight once and for all. [F/N] struggled, Letting out little groans as Kokushibo's strength was unmatchable.

Kokushibo yelled out, A pained scream. He swung out a forceful attack making [F/N] back up as their swords rapidly connected back and forth, Withdrawing and crashing right back into each other. If [F/N] stopped for a single moment, He'd be cut down.

[F/N] could barely dodge the oncoming breathing techniques as he tried to let off his own, It was one after the other so much that he couldn't take his mind away. He supposed it was a good thing.

Mitsuri's face, That desperate expression. Her hysterical screams for him to come back, To not do what he needed to. It was all set into the stone of his mind, Appeared when he blinked and hallucinated her voice.

[F/N] was thankful he had no time to think about it.

Their blades made sparks burst out like a faulty lighter. [F/N] started to struggle, The grip on his sword beginning to fall despite his iron-clad grip. His grin never faltered though, This was what he had been expecting.

[F/N] was only human, His stamina was bound to run out eventually and he knew this.

Jumping back up onto the roof to avoid another attack, Kokushibo quickly followed after. It was labouring as [F/N] tried to balance both his feet and his continued slashes at the same time, Being pushed back by the force of the demon's blade.

He felt his breath get heavier with each inhale, The pain in his chest doing nothing to help him as he felt his fingers ache. He only had so much left to go before his body finally gave up, Before he collapsed. This was [F/N] chance, To go out in one single blaze, Hopefully taking down the Uppermoon with him. His final action as a slayer.

Ever since he saw the kanji in his eyes, Ever since he felt the raw power coming off of him [F/N] knew what action to take.

The Eighth Form of Soul Breathing. The most powerful of them all, An attack that left [F/N] bloodied and beaten into a coma the first time he used it. Hospitalized for months in critical condition.

The year onwards he hadn't used it, He didn't dare. It was an attack only supported by the blade he was wielding, The Soul Sword. An attack that utilized the trapped spirits in the blade, Using the power of them all in one devastating move affecting both the user and target.

He felt the trapped souls of one thousand course through the hilt of the blade as they continued to duel against each other in rapid motions, The concentrated spirits radiating through his skin. If he used this attack, It was bound to kill both him and anyone in the surrounding area.

But Kokushibo? He wasn't sure.

Thankfully however the evacuations were successful, [F/N] had made sure to check. Everyone was out and at least a few miles away from the shrine, It was just the two of them now fighting to the death.

[F/N] smiled lightly. No one would get in the way, Not the hand-maidens, Not Mitsuri, No one. There would be no casualties on [F/N]'s hands, That was good.

[F/N] needed to try. To end it all and try to bring at least something good out of his death, To bring something good out of his life for once.

But then, He caught the faint hue of carmine red.

The mask's eyes widened as it caught the vivid colour tucked hidden within the rubble, It was barely there but [F/N] could make out a face. One that sparked up his own in recognition.

It was Maika.

Maika sat hidden behind a torn wall, She looked wounded with her kosobe being stained in thick ichor. She stared wide-eyed at the fight, Looking absolutely horrified. Her hands cupped over her mouth, Not daring to speak for a second.

But what concerned [F/N] the most was her legs, They were trapped under a large wall crumbled down onto her. She was unable to get out.

No.. No this wasn't good. [F/N]'s heart beat faster and faster by the moment, Losing concentration from the fight as he stared the injured girl head on trying to make sense of the sight in front of him.

Maika was still here, She had somehow gotten back to the shrine only to get caught within the destruction. Did the evacuation team miss her? Did they not find her? [F/N] felt his jaw shake, He couldn't use the Eight Form. Not while she was still here.

[F/N] dragged his eyes away from the girl, Trying not to alert the demon of her presence. Before he had taken this fight with a careless grin but as he saw the young girl there, Injured and terrified the stakes had finally hit him.

Her life was at stake, And somewhere deep inside him he wasn't willing to let that life slip through his fingers.

He can die any other day, But she needed to go on. Maika was too young.

[F/N] pushed himself up into the air, Sword readying itself above his head as he ignored the implications of his thoughts. He couldn't use the eighth form, Not while Maika was here. So [F/N] had to settle on the next best thing as the wisps grew into a blazing inferno.

"Soul Breathing, Seventh Form: Takamagahara's Wrath, Divine Judgement."

Moonlight danced around his sword as gravity pulled him down forward straight to the demon. Spirits trailed along as energy picked up. He felt the air shift around him and the energy pulse in his sword.

Kokushibo raised his own sword once again, A counterattack ready to happen.

"Sixteenth Form: Moonbow, Half Moon"

His sword moved up and before he knew it, [F/N]'s sword was at his neck, Sharp side pressing into the side of his neck. [F/N] screamed out, Exerting his energy as the fibres of Kokushibo's neck started to tear-

SLASH!

[F/N] landed on the other side of the roof, Sandal soles lightly touching the ground as he steadied himself.

[F/N] stood there completely still, The only movements of his figure was the light breeze passing through his clothing. He sheathed his sword, All before his knee's shook and [F/N] stumbled hard.

Copper was tasted at the tip of his tongue as he stumbled around on the roof losing his balance. He could only feel the sudden burn in his abdomen as his foot pressed down onto nothing, Letting him tip off the roof.

That speed, That blinding speed. Kokushibo didn't utilise it before, He had been formidable yet.. [F/N] felt the dawning realisation rise.

Kokushibo had been toying with him.

He had drawn out this fight, Holding back his true strength. Those cuts placed onto [F/N]'s body were a way to torture him, To let his blood be drawn and to feel agonising pain in the highest degree.

[F/N] never stood a chance.

[F/N] knew this was what he wanted, The thing he had been craving this entire time. This should of been a sweet release, Yet there was such a bitter aftertaste that it filled his mouth along with the blood. Overwhelming his senses.

He still wanted this, He did. It was a happy finality, It didn't matter whether he was in an immense amount of pain or not. It didn't matter at all. Yet the thought of Maika's fate was the one to spoil that moment.

Would she be okay? Would she be discovered by the demon?

He could barely comprehend the question as he hit the ground, World going red.

☆♡☆

Hack, Slash, Hack, Slash!

Kaigaku had barely any time to dodge the unrelenting slashes of Zenitsu, All while dodging the bloodthirsty hits of Shizuko's machete. Both desperate to get to his neck, To sever it and take it as their reward.

It wasn't even the most difficult part. Gyomei had still not moved an inch from his stance on the snow yet he kept sending out axe then flail, Ones Kaigaku couldn't even dodge at times due to the velocity at which they went.

Even then Kaigaku asked himself why Gyomei didn't dare to move from his position, This wasn't like the man he knew. The one who would charge head first into a problem and tackle it head on. It made him angry, Gyomei should be trying to kill him yet he chose to refrain.

And it made him absolutely livid when he found out the reason. Gyomei Himejima, The man who he had lived with for several years, The man who was his family only to be abandoned and ruined the life of all because of Kaigaku was holding back.

All because he still harboured love for him.

Kaigaku yelled out in frustration as he prepared another blood demon art, This time focusing off of the two boys who were still hurling attacks and insults at him as he targeted Gyomei instead.

The thought of him holding back infuriated Kaigaku to no end. Stupid human feelings.. It was disgusting. The notion of it, The action of it, The feelings that rose up inside Kaigaku himself were all absolutely disgusting.

"You fucking bitch!" Shizuko screamed as he charged at Kaigaku once more, Machete wildly trying to hack away at his neck.

Kaigaku dodged. Completely ignoring him in favour of charging at the other man as he got behind Shizuko, Pushing his foot into the dip of his back he used the forced momentum to launch him forward towards Gyomei.

"You absolutely worthless human being!" Kaigaku screamed His sword was raised as he charged at the blind man. Kaigaku ignored the way Gyomei's frown got deeper, Ignoring the way his own grew deeper as well as he got closer and closer. Black sparks jolting out from the metal.

"Himejima-san!" Zenitsu cried as he gave chase, Doing all he could to ignore the past both him and the demon shared as his blade charged up.

Shizuko joined in, Screaming his master's name as Kaigaku got closer. It was clear, Gyomei couldn't kill Kaigaku, He wouldn't. The memories they had shared together were too strong to be cut down for him.

He would rather die than kill one of his kids.

Despite how much Shizuko respected his master, He chided him for letting that get in the way. Even though Shizuko shared the same memories as Gyomei did with Kaigaku, He never let it get in the way.

Not in the way of his work.

Kaigaku was only a few inches away, Sword lightly grazing the skin of Gyomei's neck about to be cut down in an instant.

Come back, Now.

Kaigaku's eyes widened. The voice of Kokushibo, His master, Rang throughout his head. The telepathic link connected to him sounding an indescribable tone in his voice, Something he had never heard off his master before.

Emotion..

Kaigaku jolted away from Gyomei, Landing a few feet away from him as he skidded on the ground.

Zenitsu and Shizuko rushed over to Gyomei's side as he stood there frozen, Kaigaku had stopped. His senses told him so but for what reason.

Kaigaku looked back at the group and snarled at the feeling so persistant on bubbling up inside him. It was weakness, Human emotion. He had no time to think it over as he took off in a single shot of lightning, Leaving the group behind.

Shizuko snapped his head over to the sound of faraway thunder only to realise that the bastard was gone, Escaped while he was concerned over Gyomei's safety.

He gritted his teeth and screamed out into the night after him.

"Ne, Come back and face us! You're a coward, You've always been a coward.. COME BACK AND FIGHT US!" Shizuko hollered out, Voice echoing through the vast treeline surrounding them.

Shizuko could only hope that the demon he once called his brother could hear his yells as he was chased off into the night.

☆♡☆

Erratic sputters of blood erupted from [F/N]'s throat, Making ichor drip out of his mask and down his chin, Staining his already drenched uniform.

Everything hurt, Everything hurt so bad unlike before. [F/N] kept telling himself to breathe, In and out. It would be over soon, Everything will be over soon. He wouldn't need to worry anymore, He had got what he wanted.

[F/N]'s body made spasms, Wild jerks of motion as his back was propped up against fallen stone.

When he fell he had landed into a pile of rubble. Jaded rocks jagged into his flesh, Opening wounds and bursting blood vessels. If his vision wasn't blurry enough, The dust that came up from his heavy landing had made it nigh-impossible to see.

It was a miracle [F/N] was holding on as long as he was. The wound cut so deep into his abdomen that you could near see his guts. He had lost a lot of blood too, More than a normal person could survive losing.

He could barely make out the shape of the maiden only a few feet away cried quietly.

"F-Fujimori-sama.. Fujimori-sama.." She wept. Tears were left unashamedly flowing down her face as [F/N] lolled his head to meet hers.

He had to blink once to remove the visage of Mitsuri appearing on her face. It was funny, [F/N] had never noticed the visual similarities between the two until now. If his lungs were in shape, He might of laughed at the thought.

"Mi-Maika.. Listen closely.." [F/N] rasped out. Voice hoarse as dry as the maiden nodded quickly, Intently ready to hear his final words.

"Y-You need to trust me here.. Y-You won't be able to get out in time.. So.. I need you to get under the rubble.. H-Hide yourself.. Alright?" [F/N] coughed up more blood, Staining the inside of his mask as Maika's eyes widened.

"D-Don't make a noise.. No matter what happens to me or.. Or what you see.. O-Only until sunrise are you to come out.. Only once you know its safe.." [F/N] wheezed as he watched a shape in the mist start to form.

"Q-Quickly.." At his final word enunciated Maika quickly pushed herself under the rocks, Burrowed her small body into the tight space until all [F/N] could see was the moonlight's reflection on her eyes.

[F/N] smiled weakly, He hoped it would be enough to keep her hidden. Enough to save her life as he watched the figure in the fog take shape into his assailant, The man who would be his executioner.

"Pathetic.. Really.. You were able to take out one thousand of my kind.. Yet you fell to me, Even when putting in your all you just couldn't win.." He drawled out, Making sure to pronounce every syllable. Mocking the man, A sharp frown etched into his face yet [F/N] could tell he was enjoying this. Every last second.

[F/N] felt his vision double, A dark haze appearing over the horizon of his eyes. He could barely hear what Kokushibo was about to say next, All blurring into white noise.

He felt the dark haze thicken, He didn't hesitate to let it swallow him whole.

Kokushibo breathed out air from his nose, Returning his blade back to its hilt as he took slow strides towards the fallen man. He watched as his head lolled from side to side, Most definetly in a state of semi-conciousness from the blood loss.

It really was pathetic. If this man didn't bring up such horrid memories, If his very cells didn't make his blood boil he might of offered this man to become a demon. A way to forever hone his already impressive skills.

It was a waste, But it didn't matter now. This Hashira will die by his blade, It was near-written in the stars.

Kokushibo stopped in front of his incapacitated body. All six of his eyes taking in the sight before him as he crouched down to the mans level.

He was sprawled out, Body black and blue in so many places.

Kokushibo knew he was still somewhat awake, In between death and life. Even in such a spot he should've been able to move, Say something at least.

But the man never said anything. Kokushibo lowered a brow, It was if his body was fighting tooth and nail to stay alive yet his mind was ready to give up. It puzzled him, Any other slayer would be fighting whole heartedly to stay alive yet this one decided to go out without complaint.

"You.. Fujimori. You are such a miserable creature.. Everything about you is simply.. enraging" Kokushibo seethed as his eyes moved onto the rest of him. Kokushibo reached a single hand out to grasp the soft fabric of his haori.

"This haori.. How you were able to get a hold on it confuses me.. Yet angers me all the same. The way you wear it.. The way you no doubt have stained it with blood of those you've killed.. The way you wear it is a disgrace to it's true owner.." Kokushibo lamented. His voice growing only a tone drier.

He trailed a thumb over the pattern. The scales of the dragon were soft under his touch, It made a chill go down his back. How he was able to get his hands on this homemade pattern he didn't know, He had buried it with his sister's body.

Yet here it was, Caressed under his claw.

"The gods may be punishing me.. Making me look at it again.. But I suppose it does not matter now, Not to you.." Kokushibo said. His hand trailed up the man's body, All the way up to the rim of the kitsune mask.

He trailed a talon along his jawline, Deep enough only to make his body twitch at the touch.

"Not to mention the precious artefacts.. One's you wear and wield like your everyday kimono.. Disgraceful." His talon moved up to dig under the brim of the mask. Kokushibo watched on intently as his claw played with the leather strap wrapping behind the mans head.

"I am unsure whether you can hear me.. yet.. If you can.. I want you to watch as I tear out your intestines.. A fitting punishment for your crimes.." Kokushibo whispered.

His claw started to rip the leather slowly. The hide easily coming apart as he tore it down once.

It broke.

The fox mask fell to the floor, A loud clatter hitting the floor.

Kokushibo's heart stopped in his chest.

What.. What is this?

The smoke around them seemed to settle down back to where it came from. The moon was raised high in the sky, Looking down upon the scene from the heavens.

Kokushibo's hand retracted instantly, His body jerking away like he had just touched hot coal.

All sets of eyes went like saucers, All fixed down to the young woman in front of him.

It.. It was [F/N].

His little sister..

No- That was impossible. It couldn't be.. She had perished in his arms over five hundred years ago. He held her cold corpse, He cradled her cadaver begging any god who could hear him to bring her back to him. His tears wet her corpse.

Before this was a man, A man of stature unlike his little sister's. Yet when he took off the mask.. One moment it was the man he had defeated, The next it was her.. But.. It couldn't be her, He was hallucinating again. It couldn't.. It just couldn't!

Yet Kokushibo nudged forward. He reached out a hesitant hand. His fingers lightly cupped her cheek, So delicately as if she'd break from a single touch like a porcelain doll.

He felt the fading warmth in her cheeks, He felt her skin corporeal in his hands.

She was real but..

He heard a soft whisper come out from her throat, Something repeated over and over like a broken tape.

He moved his ear closer to her

His eyes only grew wider once he made out what it was

"M.. Mi-Michi..Nii.."

She mumbled softly, Blood still leaking out of her mouth. Kokushibo's jaw fell agape, His grasp of her cheek growing shaky.

There was no doubt

She was real, She was here.

But how.. How could she be here?

Kokushibo felt his vision start to blur yet never felt the hot tears leaking out of his eyes.. He was crying. She.. She said his name.

His jaw shook as he looked down at her, He saw the red ichor leak out of her gut. He saw the thousands of cuts placed onto her skin, All the bruises and the blood.

Did.. Did he do that?

Memories hit him. Back to that day in the snow, The day almost identical to the present. The day he saw the wound in her back.. The day she died..

Kokushibo yelled.

His body moved for him. In a single second he wrapped his arms around her and hoisted her up onto his shoulder, Carefully cradling her body like a small child in his hold as he started sobbing.

He felt her blood stain his kimono, He felt a panic shock him to his very core.

She was going to die.

That thought on its own was enough to send him into a bloodlust. It didn't matter how she was here, How she was reunited with him once more. It all faded into the back of his mind as the one task came clear in his mind.

He couldn't let death take her away from him, Not again. He couldn't lose her, He needed to keep her alive.

The one person whose ever loved him more than Yorichii. She needed to live.

Kokushibo yelled out to Kaigaku in his mind, The telepathic link connected from him to Tsuguko calling out to him. Telling him to come back. They needed to go, He needed to save her life.

The shrine didn't matter, It was if it never existed to him anymore. Going after the evacuees nor searching for useful information throughout the ruins were not a thought going through him.

Carefully making sure she was secure in his hold he pushed her head into the crook of his neck, Made sure her arms were locked around his neck as he watched Kaigaku run up on the horizon.

"M-Master..!" He called out to him as he ran. However his pace skidded to a halt once he came in front of the event unfolding before him.

His master was holding a maimed girl.. And he was crying.

"Wh-What is-"

"Quiet." Kokushibo hissed, His tears still fresh and flowing down his cheeks as he let out a harsh silence.

Kaigaku didn't push him any further. Shut his jaw and listened, The curiosity killed on his tongue yet the incredulous expression still played out on his face.

"We are leaving. Now." Kokushibo said.

Kaigaku nodded quickly. Bowing down low to show respect as he watched his master turn away, Softly running his fingers through the hair of the girl he held. Kaigaku was baffled, He couldn't understand it.

"Nakime!" Kokushibo yelled out.

And in a single strum of a biwa, They were gone.

☆♡☆

The sun rose up in the sky. Clementine skies painted like a tapestry, Only stopped by the misty clouds adorning the atmosphere. Cold air dancing on passer-by's skin as soft sunlight shone down towards the butterfly mansion.

It was lively. Crowds of escapee's and refugee's flooded into the gates of the mansion desperate for medical attention as the staff ran around trying to tend to them all. They all arrived on wagons, Coming out in groups.

As several people walked by they were lightly pushed out the way. Mitsuri ran like hell through the crowds, The lime hue of her eyes scanning every wagon. Every person who resembled [F/N] even if only a little bit.

She asked around. Asking any person she could find to see if they know of her whereabouts, All came up empty. None knowing where she was.

Mitsuri was in the middle of talking to a shrine-maiden when she heard her name called out from the side of the mansion.

"Kanroji-sama!"

She snapped her head over, Only to be met with Tanjiro.

He was standing in one of the nooks in the garden, The one next to the shed with several trays of plant life growing along the windowsill.

Mitsuri rushed over to him. A glimmer of hope rising up inside her, Tanjiro. If anyone was to know where she was, It would be Tanjiro. He was apart of the rescue team after all

"Kanroji-sama.. I'm glad I found you." Tanjiro greeted her, Bowing once. Mitsuri returned it rather hastily with a last-minute smile. "No. I'm glad I found you, Tanjiro.. I've been all over.. But.." Mitsuri huffed, Her injuries still severe as she had to take a breath.

Tanjiro laid a hand on her back, Patting it lightly as if to relieve her pain.

"Thank you, Tanjiro.. I came to ask.. H-Have you seen [F/N]? Was she able to evacuate or.. In fact, Have you seen Fujimori?" Mitsuri said. She grasped Tanjiro's hands into her own, Hope shining in her eyes as she looked at him.

Tanjiro frowned a little.

"N-No.. I haven't seen [F/N], Nor have I seen Fujimori-sama.. I'm sorry." Tanjiro apologised.

The grasp on his hand felt lighter, Mitsuri's smile faltering only slightly as she gulped down the overhanging feeling in her gut.

"I.. I see.. Thank you anyways, I.. I better get back to searching." Mitsuri said. She tried to keep her normal tone, Her normal bubbly tone that she wore everyday without effort yet there was an undeniable fumble as she walked off.

"Wait!" Tanjiro called out.

Mitsuri turned back around to see Tanjiro search his pockets, All before fishing and holding up a folded envelope in his hands.

"I haven't seen [F/N].. But, Fujimori-sama gave me this letter.. He told me to deliver it to you.." Tanjiro announced as he presented it to Mitsuri.

A letter.

A sudden cold sweat washed over Mitsuri. A bad feeling came up in her gut as she walked over.

Mitsuri took the envelope in her hands. The soft paper feeling like sandpaper in her touch. She steadied her breathing, Trying not to break down in front of her Junior.

Taking in a deep breath she carefully picked off the wax seal and unfolded the envelope. Watching as the folds came undone only to drop a pristine piece of white paper in her hands.

She started to read.

To Mitsuri, My dearest friend.

This probably isn't the letter you wanted from me, I know that and I've tried to make it better so it won't hurt as much.

This is about the fiftieth time I've tried to write this letter, Over and over again I've tried to find the right words to say to try and make it perfect, But every time I just end up throwing it out.

So I've decided to just speak my mind, Let it all out. No more redo's. Alright?

First off this isn't your fault, It's not at all. I've been feeling this way for as long as I can remember and I've tried and tried to find a way to feel something else other than monotony or subservience. Sake and such. but nothing has ever worked for me. So I want you to know that however I died, Whether I found someone strong enough to kill me or that I finally found the gut's to do it myself. I want you to know I did it I did on my on volition. I chose this, You have nothing to feel bad over.

Life just isn't worth living for me. I remember getting asked a short while ago what my purpose in life was, What my motivation was. It ate away at me for a while trying to find an answer. But In truth I have none except for protect those I hold dearest to me, Yet once I found out that my single motive became obsolete I now realise that what we call a reason to live is also an excellent reason to die.

I'm living a lie, Everyday I go to work as someone I'm not because of myself. It's pathetic. There isn't any meaning, I'm sorry for saying this but as these are my last words I feel like it's necessary.

I feel like I missed out on a lot of things. A family, My childhood, A normal life. All of these things I feel like have slipped out of my grasp away from me, And I can't get them back and that hurts me more than I can put into words. Everyday it haunts me and I just can't take it anymore.

But, I lied earlier when I said nothing made me feel something other that monotony.

The truth is its you. You were the only thing that made me feel like I had a family, Like I had my childhood, Like I was a normal person for once in my stupid little life. I adore you, Tsuri. I really do.

Do you remember that day on the porch? You probably don't but I do, I know it was just a one off thing you did for me but at the time I felt like a little girl for once, I felt so happy in that single moment and it meant the absolute world to me. It was probably the first time I ever had a genuine smile on my face. I treasure that memory so very dearly.

Please don't feel sad over me, I don't want that. I love you so so much and I know you probably don't feel the same. I'm sorry you had to put up with me, You deserved a better friend than me.

If Shizuko ever finds out the truth, Tell him his big sister is sorry she couldn't be there for him and that I'm so proud of him for becoming a slayer.

I love you, And I wish I said it sooner

-[F/N] Fujimori

"Kanroji-sama..?" Tanjiro asked, Taking a step towards her.

The letter shook in her grasp, Letting the envelope fall to the floor as she gripped the letter in both hands.

"Kanroji-sama.." Tanjiro watched as wet splotches started to stain the letter, All before the woman he looked up to fall to the floor

And scream.

Next Chapter

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ohtobeleah · 1 year

Note

I can’t tell you how excited I am for the next update. Want to see Jake absolutely down bad for his wife after taking her home.

Settle in nonny this one got a little steamy. As always here’s the Masterlist for To Have & To Hold

“Well—“ Doctor Perry paused as she flashed a light up your nostril. “There’s definitely some major swelling in your sinuses that will definitely cause some major bruising.” Popping her small flashlight back into her top breast pocket. “But I don’t think there’s any major cause to be too concerned, no broken bones or cartilage."

Jake sat by the window stone cold as he listened to the doctor explain what you would need to be cautious of over the coming days. Dry blood clots, a loss of smell and taste even. Headaches and swelling from the bruising. All because some douchebag didn’t understand the word no. His knuckles still bloodied and cut from laying into the guy who tried it on with you. A trip to the emergency department to get you all checked before heading home. Well, heading to Jakes. Home was wherever he inevitably was.

“I’ll get your discharge papers ready and you’ll be all good to go—“ Doctor Perry smiled as she collected her things, sending Jake a soft smirk aswell. “Your wife here is very lucky there isn’t more extensive damage, she’s pretty beat up but she’ll recover quite quickly all things considered.”

“You saying she’s got a thick head doc?” Jake couldn’t help but to taunt as he rested his head in his hand. Elbow holding his wait on the armrest of the chair he so casually sat man spreading in. “Because I tell her that all the time, so it’s nice to have a professional diagnosis.” Doctor Perry just shook her head as she tried to hide her laughter. Walking out of the room just as Jake got up from his chair with a dramatic groan. Sauntering over to where you sat with your legs hung over the examination bed.

“You think you’re really clever for that one aren’t you?” You beamed, eyes so full of love. “If one of us has a thick head it’s you, Mr. Seresin.” Pointing a finger into Jake's chest as his hands came to linger on your waist. Standing between your legs. “Thankyou for bringing me to get checked out, it’s nice to know there’s nothing seriously wrong.”

“Happy to be of service, Mrs. Seresin.” Jake was expecting you to tell him off like you always did whenever he had the audacity to call you Mrs. Seresin over the last year and a half. But to his surprise? You didn’t. If anything he caught a glimpse of something in your eye. Something that told him that you were okay with it—that you were in fact, Mrs. Jake Seresin. “I’d do just about anything for you Hawkeye, you know that.”

“How are the hands holding up?” You asked softly as you brought them down gently against Jakes. His hands on your hips, your hands on his. He didn’t mean to let out such a hiss, but it escaped momentarily when you relaxed against him. “Fuck, sorry sorry—“ Removing your hands from Jakes he shook his head in response.

“No don’t be, just a little banged up.” He was honestly fine. “Nothing I can’t handle, nothing I wouldn’t do again if I needed to.” Tilting your chin up slightly with his fingers, Jake paused as his eyes lingered from your lips to your eyes. “I think I’m falling in love with you all over again.”

“Be honest with me.” You let your eyes wander as well, gaze cascading down from Jake's eyes to his lips then climbing again. “Did you ever really stop?”

“Oh god no—no never.” Jake Seresin was very aware he had his own flaws and weaknesses. He wasn’t claiming to be a perfect man or a man without vice. But he really did love you. “I could never stop loving you even if you told me tomorrow you wanted absolutely nothing to do with me.”

“Good thing I love you back then huh?” You tried to hide your smirk by biting your bottom lip softly. Jake's hands came to cup your cheeks as he pulled you in for a kiss so soft. He didn’t want to hurt you. But it was the laugh you let out against his lips that had Jake pulling away.

“What’s so funny?” Jake’s never been so infatuated with your laugh before. Infectious and endearing. Laughing harder with every passing second as you clapped your hands together before bringing them up to cover your mouth. “Babe, what’s so funny?” Smiling back at you Jake let himself rest his forehead against yours. Hands lingering on your hips yet again. “What is it?”

“Us—“ You beamed, your laugh diminishing to nearly nothing. “Us and this whole mess.” Wiping your tears that had formed while you were laughing. “Only us Jake, only we would end up broken and bruised from a simple dinner.”

“Yeah, we don’t half arse a night out do we?”

“Okay!” Like high school sweethearts being caught behind the bleachers by the teacher on duty, Jake was pulling away with a cough to clear his throat as doctor Perry came back into the room. “I have your discharge papers ready to go.” Trying to hide a bashful smile you took the forms from her gracefully. “Just try and refrain from any high intensity cardio workouts for at least a week while the swelling goes down. I mean the worst that could happen would be a bloody nose but still—if it can be avoided I’d rather you do so.”

“Uh, yeah yeah—that won’t be a problem.” You nodded as Jake raised a questioning brow from the sideline. His arms crossed over his chest with a devious smirk plastered on his face. “Thanks again doc, for everything.”

“Yeah, thanks doc.” Jake added as he handed you his jacket, wrapping it around your shoulders. “C’mon wifey, let’s get you home.” Jake's arm wasn’t far behind his jacket. Guiding you out of the room and out of the emergency department with a protective arm slung over your shoulders. “You still want to come round to my place?” You let his question linger in the darkness of the hospital car park. Walking side by side with your arm wrapped around the small of Jake's back as his wrapped around your shoulders. “Y/n?”

“Yeah, yeah no let’s go.” With a soft smile and a heart full of love for your husband, you walked with him back to his car. Knowing full well the second you stepped foot through the threshold of Jake's humble abode, you would be going against direct orders from Doctor Perry. Cardio was very much on the agenda.

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

“Fuck—! Oh my, shit—!” Jake Seresin was a lucky man. A very lucky man. You never even made it to the bedside before your lips were on each other’s. Jake being incredibly careful of your nose, kissing you with passion but no force what so ever—letting you control the momentum.

“Feels so fucking good—!” An angel. That’s the only thing Jake could describe the way you sounded bouncing on top of his cock. His hands helping to guide you, lift you and slam you down his length. “So good baby.” Your velvet walls were so tight around his shaft, slicking Jake's length so well. “More Jake more—!” Your nectar dribbled down to the hilt, a wet slapping sound echoing off the walls of Jake Seresin's living room as you rode him on the lounge.

“God you're perfect, so beautiful.” It was the way Jake's voice groaned in your head an o five or two deeper than normal that really got you going. “So fucking pretty riding me like this?” His lips on your neck, attacking you with sweet nothings as he sucked marks up and down the junction of your shoulder. “Guess blondes really do have more fun huh?” You didn’t falter as Jake wrapped a hand into your hair, pulling your head back to expose more of your neck as a moan escaped and echoed throughout the house. “Fucking Christ you’ll be the death of me if you keep fucking me like this.”

“Who am I, baby.” It wasn’t a question, you knew. But you wanted to hear Jake say it. You wanted to hear your husband say what you were so you could get off to it. “Say it Jake—“ slowly rolling your hips as you took every inch Jake had to the hilt of his length. Throbbing inside you.

“You’re mine—“ Jake growled with a protectiveness so primal it sent waves of electricity shooting through your body as the pad of his thumb came to draw soft circles around your clit. The sensitive bundle of nerves crying out of attention. Overjoyed with pleasure as Jake gave you want you so desperately craved. “You’re mine baby, always have been always will be.” Watching you with hooded eyes and a high pooling at the base of his shift, Jake worked you a little faster, matching the rhythm and pace you set riding his cock. “Would ask you to marry me but I’ve already done that.”

“Jake!!” God he loved the way you said his name why chasing your high— an orgasm so powerful building in the pit of your stomach. “Oh god oh god oh god yes—fuck me.” That was all Jake needed to hear before he was pulling your chest to his, holding your arms behind your back with a tight grip on your wrist. “Ahhh-! Fuck! Jake please.”

“Don’t worry I got you.” Smirking, Jake planted his feet lifting you slightly before he began bucking his hips up into you. “I’ll take it from here shall I?” Taunting you as he fucked hard and fast and deep into you. “I know you can take it beautiful, god wish you could see how gorgeous you look stuffed.” You were drooling, dripping down Jakes chest as he fucked you—holding you to his chest with your arms behind your back.

“I’m—oh fuck I’m gonna cu—cum I’m gonna cum.” Babbling like a mad woman Jake didn’t slow, if anything he got faster at the thought of feeling you come undone around him. “Please—!”

“I got you sweetheart let go.” Jake groaned in your ear as he kissed your cheek softly. “Cum for me, I’ll come with you—just say when and I’m there.” He’d been holding back for this moment, determined to experience euphoria with you. The love of his life. “Cum baby, all over my cock.”

“Shit!!” You cried as your legs shook and your eyes rolled. “Cumming cumming cumming—“ that’s all you could muster to say, one word over and over again as your jaw eventually slacked. “Jake!”

“Ohhhh fuck yess—“ Hot sports of cum shot deep I add your cunt. Filling you to the very brim as Jake slowed his role, his hips no longer slamming against you more so grinding. Keeping himself tucked deep inside as his balls tighten to new extremes. Emptying everything he had inside you. “Oh Y/n, baby—“

“Fucking hell, you’ll never be a bad fuck.” Sighing as you chuckled softly into Jake's chest. He was quick to wrap his arms around you tight. Kissing your cheek. Your wrist red from his grin. “So good.”

“That's all I am huh? A good fuck?” Jake looked down as you looked up, a little blood started to run from your nose. Doctor Perry had warned you, but you really needed to be with your husband.

“No—You’re my everything.” It was the honest truth. “And I know I probably wasn’t the best wife before.”

“Don’t—“ Jake tried to interrupt you, knowing you were about to put the blame on yourself for your marriage breakdown. “You left because I wasn’t worth staying for, but I’m learning to be a better man for you.” Wiping the blood that dripped from your nose with a tissue Jake had gabbed you from the small coffee table beside the lounge as you sat up. Jake still burrows to the hilt inside you. His cock softening over time. “I wanna win you back, that’s all that matters to me anymore, you, us.”

“What about this special detachment?” Shoving the tissue up your nose, Jake could not have been more in love. “Isn’t that super important to Mr best of the best?” You were expecting Jake to tell you it was, that it was just as important. Because that’s the way it had become with him. Work was a top priority. But it wasn’t the answer you got.

“I’d leave this detachment tomorrow if it meant I got you back for good.” It felt so surreal to hear. “I love you, so much—and you’ve never been hard to get, at all Y/n.” Jake followed you as you leaned back. His hands holding your exposed back as he wrapped your legs around his waist. Standing. “You’re hard to earn.”

“You are really turning up the charm, Hangman.” Taunting his callsign his way you beamed as Jake pressed you up against the nearest wall. Your arms around his neck. “But are you being for real? You’d give up flying this mission—for me?” He didn’t skip a beat, Jake knew how important his devotion truly meant to you. He’d forgotten to put you fear for so long that you left just to feel important to yourself again. He’d forgotten to be a husband first and foremost before an Aviator. Deep down he knew he could do both—but for now? There was one thing that he wanted to mend again. Wanted back more than anything in the entire world. You.

“Without hesitation.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~*

Grey skies loomed above, threatening to wash away the beautiful flowers that littered around and above the dark wooden coffin. Glossed and proper. The jarring claps of gunfire saluting a fallen aviator rang across the fields—forcing a jolt from you each time as you stood holding the perfectly folded flag in your arms.

“You knew this was coming—“ It was Jakes voice clear as day that spoke softly in your ear. A gentle breeze rushing past you and you closed your eyes tight. Tears spilling down your cheeks. “You’re the only one here?” Opening your eyes, suddenly it was just you. The clouds above now dark and stormy. Raining down heavy as you stood by Jake's coffin.

“I don’t remember what happened?” Crying as you looked around for someone. Anyone. “Jake!?”

“We’re glad it was him instead of one of us.” Spinning around to face where Bob stood in his dress whites. “It was rightfully him.”

“You don’t mean that.” Sobbing uncontrollably as you feel to your knees. Jake was there to console you. “You don’t!”

“No, he doesn’t—but you do.” Anger laced in his voice as the colour in his eyes began to fade into a light grey. No light or life behind them. “Why did you send me on that suicide mission honey? You could have just divorced me?”

“But I don’t remember!” You were inconsolable at this point. A sobbing mess in the wet grey beside Jake's coffin. “I didn’t. I wouldn’t—I don’t want to divorce you, I love you I—I don’t wanna lose you.” Looking up as you sat back on your heels it was just you again. Sitting in the pouring rain. “I can’t lose you.”

With a sudden gasp you felt your head leave the pillow. Eyes blurry as you tried to distinguish reality from dreamscape. Looking around the room before your eyes fell to the emptiness beside you. No—surely not. With panic bubbling just beneath the surface you hurried to find a T-shirt, any T-shirt that Jake had discarded on the floor. Fuck pants, there was no time for pants. Pulling the almost wash ready shirt over your head as you padded down the hall.

“Jake? Hey Hangman! you still around?” Checking the bathroom first, maybe he had gone for a shower. Nothing. Not a sign of life anywhere in the white tiled bathroom. “Jake?” You called out again as you continued your search, landing in the living room to also find nothing. “No—no no no no.”

Your dream was starting to play nasty little tricks on you. Or were you dreaming now? Pinching your forearm as you fort of tears, you made your way to the kitchen. Stopping in your tracks when you saw him, Jake—standing at the stove top. Eggs cooking in a pan as toast toasted in the toaster off to the side.

A sigh of relief and a wave of emotions flooded your systems as you bent down to let your hands rest on your knees. Fucking Christ, Jake had been wearing his AirPods. Music blasting as he cooked. Only realising you had joined him when he turned to check if the toast had popped. Eyes beaming with a bright closed mouth smile.

“Full disclosure I literally went for a run in that shirt like three days ago and it’s been on my floor ever since.” Pointing the spatula he had been using to cook the eggs your way. You let yourself into his side, reaching up to gently kiss Jake's cheek as you brought your arms around his waist. “Mornin’ gorgeous.” You took in the scent of Jake as you held him sight, just grounding yourself for a moment as you watched him flip your egg. Remembering you liked it a little more cooked. “You okay?”

“Just had a bit of a bad dream.”

“Do you wanna talk about it?” You didn’t want to ruin a good thing. Shaking your head softly with a sigh as you let go. Heading over to the coffee pot Jake had brewed up.

“I’m okay, just wasn’t expecting to wake up alone.” Although you had become used to sleeping alone. After the psychological thriller you’ve just woken up from, it would have been nice to be met with Jake's warm body pressed against yours. His back still had red raw claw marks from his upper traps to the small of his waist—you’d dug deep. Watching as soft muscle moved absentmindedly as he worked to plate up breakfast. “You cook all your little girlfriends breakfast or is it just me?” Taunting Jake as he laid your egg down gently on the toast. Turning to hand over the plate as you walked back over. Coffee cup in hand with a teasing smirk.

“Only the ones who hog the whole bed.” He fired back. “You need to learn a thing or two about personal space.” Your jaw hung slack as you took the plate. Jake laughed with a low chuckle. His morning voice a few octaves lower than normal. “I’m serious, I had probably an inch of room to work with last night.” Taking a bite of his own eggs on toast, Jake took in the extent of the bruising that had come up overnight. You watched his eyes lingering around your face.

“How bad is it?”

“It’s not too bad, I’d say tomorrow is when it’ll look like you've gone a few rounds with Rocky.” Jake tried to downplay the severity of the bruising. “Does it hurt?”

“Eh, just a little—under my eyes mostly.” Besides some pressure it didn’t feel all that bad. “Think I might just wear some sunglasses around the office today.” Laughing softly as you ate your breakfast, sipped your coffee and enjoyed each other’s company, the panic you felt in your chest from your nightmare soon dissolved. It hasn’t been the first time, but it had been the first for a while. “What time do you need to be in today?”

“Ah—“ Jake looked at his wrist although he wasn’t wearing a watch. Knowing Javy would soon be on his doorstep. “Like, now—but Coyotes picking me up so until he gets here I’m golden, what about you?”

“Well I just need to be there for phase two training today, you know—make sure all my little simulations are correct and make adjustments to anything that doesn’t really work.” You pondered what time that also told you, a questioning brow upon your face as you finished your toast and dusted your hairs. “I think like ten thirty? That’s run time isn’t it?”

“Ay!” Coyote frowned as he came bursting through Jake's front door. “Whatch’a mean you need a lift for man? Your cars in the damn drive?” He hadn’t looked up as he shit the door behind him. Hadn’t noticed you and Jake both standing very close together enjoying a moment. “Lazy man, that’s what you are—oh shit.” As soon as Coyote took a step in, he looked up. Spitting you both as you smiled and waved.

“Hawkeye needs my car to get to work later dipshit, I drove her to the emergency room last night.” Last night huh? So why were you still here then?

“Yeah no doubt, that’s from the headbutt?” Javy questioned as he stood with his hands under his armpits. Confirming his suspicions you nodded gently. “Fucking hell he wasn’t messing around was he?” Jake caught to shift in your expression, maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to let every Tom, Dick and Harry point out the bruises on your face. Sending Javy a glare when you ducked your head to catch your reflection in the mirror across the room. “Sorry, my bad Lieutenant Commander, I shouldn’t have mentioned it.”

“Javy, I’m literally not wearing any pants.” You chuckled, fixing yourself up as you kissed Jake on the cheek. A gesture which didn’t go unnoticed by the Lieutenant with the ride. “I think we’re on a first name basis here, don’t you think?”

“Right, well then—Hawk, I’m gonna go ahead and steal your man because if he doesn’t kick into fear we’re gonna be late.”

“I’ll catch you later alright?” Jake kissed you softly atop your head before he pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead. Finally and waiting for you to initiate the force, being way too careful to not hurt you, Jake left a loving kiss upon your lips. “Just leave my car at yours and I’ll catch a ride with you home.”

“Okay.” It felt like all the stars had finally aligned. It felt so utterly amazing to have Jake on the same page again. To feel loved and in blissful ignorance of just how terrible things could go if things were to go bad. But for now? You stuck at it, giving Jake Seresin just one more chance, giving him the chance to be a better version of the already amazing man he was. The man you fell in love with. “See you soon.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~*

“I was right about the eleventh man theory wasn't I?” Jake smirked. whispering as he came to stand next to Rooster. Rooster was adamant if there hadn’t been so many people around he would have clocked Jake up the side of the jaw himself, but the risk to reward ratio didn't weigh up in his favour. “What exactly did you do?”

“I messed up.” Rooster's eyes never left Chaos as he watched her leave the locker room, doing up his flight suit as he sighed. His fist slamming against the thin door of his locker. Leaving an indent. “I messed up big time.”

“God what is it with everyone abusing the lockers this morning?” Fanboy questioned as Bob shook his head as if to say don't ask. Jake was trying his best to put the pieces together, opting to place his hand on Roosters shoulder. Smirking, still chewing that piece of gum, Rooster secretly hoped he’d choke on.

“Oh well, you know what they say man, the more you fuck around the more you find out.” Jake chuckled as he went back to minding his own business.

“Heard you got into a pretty heavy altercation last night?” Roosters mentioned as he bent down to meet his foot. Lacing you the strings as his foot rested against the bench. “You uh, you good?”

“Some douchebag tried it on with Hawk, head butted the ever living shit out of her.” Rooster could vividly see the anger rising in Jake's eyes. Clenching his jaw so tight for a second he thought his teeth would shatter.

“Shit, she alright?” Rooster was genuinely concerned. Not so much for the bruises that littered Jake's knuckles or the fact he was clearly struggling with the replay of that moment in his head—Rooster was concerned for you. A friend. A colleague. Nevertheless he was glad Jake had been there for you. “Did Penny kick the guy out or?”

“We didn’t stick around to find out.” A sigh rolled off Jake's tongue as he stretched his back. “Also, just don’t mention the bruises.” Jake was being deadset serious. His heart ached and his stomach felt uneasy just thinking about the bruises that had settled in a little too nice on your face. He didn’t want anyone making you feel bad, intentional or unintentional. “Or so help me god you won’t get a chance to fix whatever mess you made with Chaos."

***~***~***~***~***~***~*

True to your word—it was a sunglasses indoors type of day. Mainly keeping to yourself for the most part, eventually though you did venture outside into the hanger. Just after the TopGun Graduates had been told to go gear up.

“Who’s up first?” Mavericks turned to where he had heard your heels clicking against the concrete. Making your way over to him.

“Payback, Fanboy and Hangman.” Maverick as he tapped his own glasses. “Heard about last night.”

“You should see the other guy—“ Trying to keep a positive attitude the more your headache seemed to grow. “Could’ve been a lot worse if Jake wasn’t there.” You hated to think for even a moment what could have happened if Jake hadn’t stepped in. “How’s he going anyway? With all this.”

“Yeah well, he’s got skill I’ll give him that—but what he lacks in ability to get along with others will most likely end up costing him down the line.” You appreciated Mavericks honesty as you walked with him out toward the taxi way. Spitting Jake doing a once over on his super hornet.

He’d left a small bunch of flowers on your desk, a note that read ‘For the love of my life’ attached to the handpicked flowers he’d stolen from one of the Neighbours gardens on his way to work. Coyote had given him shit, but he didn’t care. Jake knew that they would make you smile. He knew his mission had been accomplished as you wave his way. Still talking with Maverick as you walked by.

“Pete, can I be frank with you for a moment?” Your fear of losing Jake after just reconnecting had started to overwhelm you. You weren’t about to throw your heart out into the open just for it to be destroyed by external factors.

“Sure Hawkeye, what’s up.” Pete stopped in his tracks, Jake watched from his place by his F-18, squaring your shoulders and puffing your chest.

“If for whatever reason you feel that Jake is the right person for this mission.” You were projecting a fear that was far too much for you to truly handle. “If anything bad were to happen to him?” Stepping a little closer so no one else heard you. Putting the fear of god in Pete Michael, knowing he was still trying to forgive himself for the last person that blamed him entirely for the loss of a loved one. Seeing that weakness and deciding you needed to use it to your own advantage to try and keep your husband safe.

“I’ll hold you personally responsible.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

Tags: @justanothermagicalsara @alexsisrebekah @stinkyjax @starkleila @luckyladycreator2 @love2write2626 @shanimallina87 @dempy @mintellaine @kiarabellerum31 @abaker74

#to have & to hold // jake seresin #jake hangman x reader #jake seresin imagine #jake hangman seresin x reader #top gun maverick x reader #top gun maverick fanfiction #jake seresin x y/n #jake seresin x you #hangman seresin

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nicoline1998enilocin · 11 months

Text

''Yer a wizard, Bucky!''

PAIRING | Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

WORD COUNT | 1.9K

SUMMARY | You've been a fan of the Harry Potter franchise for as long as you can remember, and you're finally introducing Bucky to the Wizarding World you grew up with. Little did you know he would quickly become just as obsessed with it as you had been all these years.

WARNING(S) | Small spoiler-alert for the Harry Potter franchise. No major events mentioned, but there are some plot points discussed.

A/N | Hi all, this is my first one-shot for Bucky, so I thought it would be nothing short of fitting that I'd make it a Harry Potter themed one, especially since I'm a huge Potterhead myself. In this story I will write Bucky as a Hufflepuff because 1) I am a proud member of the Hufflepuff house and 2) I feel like that's where he would fit the most, but I respect other opinions too if you think another house would be more fitting ;) Enjoy!

Likes and reblogs will be very much appreciated 💜

Main Masterlist | Bucky Barnes Masterlist

You have been a fan of Harry Potter and everything to do with the Wizarding World for as long as you can remember, so it would be only a matter of time before your super soldier boyfriend would be subjected to your passion too. He read the Hobbit when it first came out, so it isn't a reach to assume he would be into this as well, and boy, did he get into it!

It all started simple enough, by suggesting you'd watch the movies together on your weekly movie night as a couple. ''C'mon, I think you would absolutely love these movies. I know you already likes fantasy stories, so you'll enjoy this too!'' you said when you put on Harry Potter and the Philisopher's Stone. Even though this is not your favorite, you can still quote the entire movie line by line much to the joy of Bucky.

The two of you settle into the couch together with your most comfy clothing, a blanket, steaming cups of hot chocolate with marshmallows, and your favorite snacks. Bucky knows you're a big fan, and absolutely supports you a hundred percent in your obession, but he did get curious what it was all about. All he knew is that it was about wizards and stuff like that, but that was really the extent of it.

''Are you ready to get your mind blown by the most amazing movie franchise ever?!'' you asked him excited and you couldn't wait to start the first movie. As soon as you started the movie, your eyes were glued to the screen and Bucky couldn't help but steal little glances every now and again to see your trance like state, forgetting all and everything around you, silently mumbling the lines along with the characters.

When you reached the part where Hagrid comes to pick up Harry on his birthday, you say ''Yer a wizard, Bucky!'' and get into a huge fit of laughter together, and the movie almost seems forgotten, until the point of the sorting ceremony, and you direct his interest to the screen again. ''Oh oh, this is one of my favorite parts!'' you say when Professor McGonagall starts her speech before the sorting ceremony and your eyes are fixated on the screen once again.

When the movie is over, you look at Bucky expectingly and you are really curious what he thought of it so far. ''So...? What did you think?'' you said and you threw the blanket off the both of you, straddling his lap so you can look him directly into his eyes. ''It was amazing right? Please tell me you love it?!'' you said with the excitement of a little kid, which made Bucky smirk before giving you a loving kiss on the lips. ''Allright, you want to know what I think? I think it's...'' he starts teasingly, but doesn't finish because he wants to give you more kisses.

You pull away after a few more kisses, and get impatient, really wanting to know what he thinks. ''Bucky, stop with the teasing and tell me already!'' you say with a bit of annoyance laced into your tone. ''Okay, okay!'' he said laughing, ''I did enjoy the movie, but I can't say for sure what I think when I haven't read the books yet. I feel like there was a lot of information missing, and I really want to know more.'' and before he could finish his sentence you were halfway on the way to your bedroom to get your copy of the book.

''Here you go, now you can read it!'' you say with a big smile and you hand him the book. ''But you better be careful with it, it is my only copy.'' you say with a serious face. You give Bucky another kiss and decide to get ready for bed, since you have gotten pretty tired after a long day of work and the movie night. ''Are you coming to bed with me, or are you gonna read?'' you ask, already knowing the answer. ''I'll join you for some reading in bed, how does that sound doll?'' ''Perfect.''

After a few weeks he has absolutely devoured the books, and the movies were even better now that he knew more of the background story. He still had a lot of questions, but you didn't mind answering them, you could talk about it all the time of you got the chance. ''So, after the last movie, I think it would be fun for you to take the sorting quiz as well, see in which house you would belong if you were a part of the Wizarding World. I personally think you would be either a Hufflepuff or a Gryffindor.'' you said, secretly hoping he would be a Hufflepuff too, just like yourself.

''Doll? Are you ready to help me with this quiz?'' he asked when he grabbed his laptop. He knew how it worked ofcourse, but he didn't know the last thing about the sorting quiz, so he asked you to help. ''I will be in a minute, hold on!'' you yell from the bathroom, where you decided to put on some Hufflepuff colored lingerie to make the evening more interesting. When you walked out, Buckys jaw went slack as he eyed you up and down, and the quiz was already forgotten by him. ''Doll, you look absolutely gorgeous...'' he said, not knowing where to look because he wanted to see it all.

''You can enjoy all this later, first you have to do the quiz like you promised. This is just a little taste of your reward for when you pass.'' you said teasing with a wink. ''Oh, I am sure I will get more than just a taste later, doll.'' Bucky teased back, earning him a little smack on his chest. ''Quiz, now!'' you said and you pulled up the website for him. After going through it, he was nervous to find out the result. ''I'm kind of nervous to find out the result, what if I get sorted into Slytherin?!'' he asked. ''Well, it's a good thing I really adore your bad side, love.'' you said teasing again.

After a few minutes of making out with each other, you got up for air and he decided to push the button, so he can find out what house he belongs in, and as soon as it shows, he lets out a sigh of relief. ''Thank god I'm not in Slytherin!'' he said, excited to find out he was sorted into Hufflepuff, just like you. ''Well, how appropriate? I think it is time for your reward now!'' you said and softly place a kiss on Bucky's lips, who wasted no time deepening it, before lifting you up and carrying you to the bedroom.

By the time Halloween rolled around, the two of you finished the entire movie series, and both read the entire book series from beginning to end. Tony threw one of his famous Halloween parties, which was the ideal moment to figure out what couples costume to wear. You wore a couples costume each year, but seeing how you had Bucky obsessing over Harry Potter, he offered to go as Hufflepuff students, since that's what you both got sorted into. ''Wow, and here I thought I couldn't love you anymore than I already do, you found a way to make it possible...'' you said to Bucky, who pulled you closer by your waist to seal your confession with a kiss.

You have both found the perfect Hufflepuff costume with matching cloaks, ties, school outfits and your own wands. You both really looked like you could fit right into the Wizarding World, aside from the age thing ofcourse, but that didn't matter. The two of you walked into Tony's party hand in hand and everyone looked at the two of you and giving you endless compliments about how this was your best couples costume to date, and that was saying a lot since you had been together for close to a decade now. ''Hell, I wished you had introduced me to this much earlier doll, this is great for my ego!'' Bucky joked and he winked at you before getting the two of you a drink.

Bucky decided to surprise you by not celebrating Christmas at the Avengers Compound this year like you always did, but by going to Universal Studios in Orlando, Florida. It would be a special trip for the both of you, but Bucky didn't tell you the entire suprise he had planned, even though the ring box in his pocket nearly burned a hole through his pants. He had been planning on proposing for a while now, but it felt like it was never the right time, and neither of you were particularly in a hurry to get married, you were committed to each other without having to sign a piece of paper first. However, Bucky finally found the perfect moment to get down on one knee, and ask you to be his wife.

You both decided to wear your Hufflepuff outfits to the Wizarding World in Universal Studios, seeing how it would just be so fitting. You spent all day walking through Diagon Alley, going on the rides, drinking Butterbeer and just enjoying being dunked into the Wizarding World, and neither of you wanted this day to end. When it was time to go see Hogwarts castle, Bucky seemed to get a bit nervous, and started fidgeting with the ring box in his pocket. ''Love, are you okay? You seem a bit off?'' you asked him, worrying you did something wrong. ''I'm okay doll, don't worry about me.'' he said, and you both continued walking towards the castle.

You took some photos of the castle, as well as some selfies together, and when you were looking at the castle and admiring it in all it's beauty, you didn't notice Bucky getting down on one knee besides you. ''Doll?'' he started, and you looked over, just to see him not standing beside you anymore. You looked down and there you saw him, the love of your life on one knee, ready to propose to you. ''Bucky..'' is all you managed to get out before tears started to stream down your face.

''Doll, for the last 8 years, you have made me the happiest man on earth, giving me a love I never thought I would ever find. Hell, a love I didn't even think I'd deserve after everything I have done. But you were there by my side through all the good times and all the bad times, you have made me feel complete again. I realized I never want to spend another day apart from you, and I will repay you everyday for the love you have given me, by given you that same love back. Will you marry me, and make me the luckiest Hufflepuff on this planet?'' he said.

''Yes, Bucky, ofcourse I will marry you!'' is all you said before he stood up and lifted you off the ground, you wrapped your legs around him. You crashed your lips onto his in a kiss filled with love and a promise of everything that is yet to come, and it takes a while before the two of you notice people clapping around you. ''Congratulations to the happy couple!'' someone says, and Bucky puts you down to put the ring on your finger. ''I love you, my gorgeous wizard.'' ''I love you too, my beautiful witch.''

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky fanfic #bucky x female reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes #harry potter #potterhead #hufflepuff #wizarding world

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unicyclehippo · 1 year

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one word prompt for avatrice: parents

ava has slept for most of the train journey.

she looks—small, beatrice thinks, worried and fond and many things beside that, and has to look away because there’s an intersection between girlhood and hallowed warrior that she’s been ignoring—a curiosity she has been ignoring—for some time and it will only be exacerbated by letting herself look.

the world goes past, blurred. too blurred to be entirely blamed on the train. her eyes hurt. she has been awake close to thirty hours now. she looks at trees and the blue silver glint of a lake. she looks at the rising mountains. she looks at ava.

three minutes, her watch tells her. three minutes without looking. surely she can do better than that. she’ll try again soon.

for this minute, however, beatrice looks.

ava’s blanket has fallen from one shoulder to bundle at her waist in soft folds. one hand curled under her cheek, propping up her head. faint rust smears under her nails, between her fingers. there hadn’t been time—a brief shower in the not-so-safe safe house, enough to go out in public, enough to seem harmless, but the truth lingers.

there’s blood on her hands, on all of their hands—beatrice plucks at her own, worries at the skin around her nail beds until it stings.

she sleeps very still. beatrice wonders—and it frustrates that she cannot answer her questions, frustrates more that she is questioning at all—if it is muscle-memory, or lack thereof, or whether exhaustion keeps her so still. because ava is exhausted, eyes ringed red from crying and mouth held tight, like she wants to frown even in sleep. beatrice lifts her eyes to messy hair, flat and streaked with grey. it had alarmed beatrice hours ago but now she knows it is stone-dust, settled in her hair from—

beatrice closes her fingers around the impulse to reach out, but cannot deny that it’s there. for all her promises of staying by ava’s side, for all that she swore to be there for ava, the girl got buried alive. beatrice’s fault. areala’s fault. vincent’s fault. but beatrice cannot blame the saint of their order, and what she feels for vincent is more than blame, so. beatrice’s fault, then.

‘you should sleep.’ it’s a testament to how very true that is that beatrice doesn’t realise ava is speaking to her until the other girl moves her head, blinks over at her with the gentlest smile. her voice is soft, raspy with exhaustion. ‘you look… i don’t know. fucked up.’

‘language.’ it doesn’t come out as the reprimand it was intended to be. utterly reflexive. utterly empty.

ava stirs. wriggles higher in her seat. she has no qualms in reaching over and taking beatrice’s hand in hers; it’s warm, hours pressed tight between her cheek and pillow, and when she presses her other hand to the back of it she can feel the impressions where the fabric has left its mark. she can see it on ava’s cheek too, a reddened smudge where her fingers had been. ava must feel it too, because with her other hand she rubs at it slowly.

‘you need to sleep. unless. do we take it in turns?’ ava eyes their tiny carriage, mostly empty. ‘i can totally watch out for, mm. bad guys. pickpockets. don’t have to watch out for that, i guess.’

it’s true. they have next to nothing. one phone and one bag between them.

‘i’ll sleep when we get there.’

ava’s eyes narrow. ‘i won’t fall asleep. you can trust me, seriously.’

‘it’s not that i don’t trust you. but we’re nearly there and there’s little point in it.’ she means to be reassuring but suspects she falls short because ava goes still, eyes narrowed, and then pulls back with a nod. beatrice wishes she could say something to fix it but doesn’t know what; even if her mind were clearer, she thinks she still wouldn’t know.

‘so what’s the plan?’

‘as we discussed, we find a place to lay low. mother s—‘ beatrice stops with a twist of her lips. ‘will call me when there is more of a plan. until then, we train.’

ava musters a smile. ‘any time for sight-seeing along the way?’

‘absolutely not.’ too harsh. ava flinches. beatrice’s lays her hands out flat on the plastic table between them, supplication, surrender. her fingers tremble. ‘sorry, i’m sorry. i’m—‘ she sucks in a breath. ‘i should sleep, you’re right. but i can’t. forgive me, my tone was - it wasn’t directed at you, more our situation.’

‘all good, bea.’ she hesitates, then barrels on. something beatrice is learning is very ava. ‘why can’t you sleep? i could probably knock you out, if you needed,’ ava offers, tone equal parts sincere and sly.

‘i doubt that.’ ava only smiles. ‘you were there when i was tasked with your safety. you know. i can’t abandon that just to sleep.’

‘can’t do much good if you’re exhausted either.’

an excellent point, damn her. beatrice sketches a cross with her nail on the plastic.

‘is it because we’re headed to switzerland?’ ava asks after a few minutes. beatrice jerks her eyes up but ava’s gaze is fixed on the window—or, outside of it. purposefully, beatrice suspects, so as not to look at her but also drinking in the view with half-hidden desperation, fingertips pressed against the glass. ‘i was thinking about it before. when we picked where to go? it must feel like it’s happening all over again,’ she says thoughtfully, and rather sad.

beatrice’s stomach clenches. or rather, she becomes aware that it has been clenched, painfully so, for hours. winding tighter and tighter the further the train takes them.

‘it’s not, you know. mother superion,’ ava says her name in a whisper, with a far too obvious glance around the carriage to ensure no one is listening, ‘totally loves you. she’s not your parents. she’d never send you away. i bet it feels like it, though, huh. i’m really sorry.’

for a moment, beatrice sits very still, stares down at her hands. the roar of the train is only marginally louder than the roar in her ears, exhaustion and fear and tension catching up to her. she hardens herself against the urge to faint, to collapse into sleep, and against the relief of ava’s words. it’s too much. too much understanding, words tripping just this side of what cannot be said. too much grace. ava is careless with it.

she clears her throat. ‘don’t be.’

ava smiles, sly again. ‘you’re bea, i’m ava.’

beatrice groans. ‘that was hardly a pun.’

‘eh, i’m tired,’ she excuses herself with a flap of her hand. peers at beatrice, a little curiously, dark eyes intent, before she yawns again. ‘you’re really not going to sleep?’

beatrice shakes her head no.

ava grunts. wriggles in her chair. ‘okay. me neither.’

‘you should sleep if you’re tired,’ beatrice scolds. ava just lifts her brows. ‘truly. i’ll be fine. i’ve gone longer before.’

ava gives in with a tired look, long and searching. beatrice looks back at her—because ava is looking for something or because she wants to—and whatever ava finds, she smiles.

‘wake me when we’re nearly there,’ she demands sleepily, scrunching down into her seat again. ‘i wanna see our new home.’

#tagging my stories #prompt fill #warrior nun tag #avatrice

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fjorests-of-wildemount · 2 years

Text

There are three things Ashton knows:

1: there isn't a single part of his body that doesn't feel like ground meat; 2: he's alone; And, oh yeah, 3: the world behind them is absolutely fucked.

The storm and lightning swirl into a brilliant vortex where his friend Imogen used to be. The last time he saw FCG they were attempting to sneak to . . . fuck, to get to someone, anyone to heal or help or . . .

Ashton stumbles over their feet, lurching as the ground shakes like the bedrock is going to get ripped into the air. They grasp at the crumbling buildings nearby and come away with nothing but handfuls of reddish-brown sand that grinds into the cracks in his skin. He's still phasing, some, that last rage holding on enough that he avoids some of the worst of the rocks flying past his head.

He has to get away, has to run. There's nothing back there, his friends are all dead, or as good as. This feeling is nothing new, the pain, the struggle to breathe, the weight of the ground beneath them pulling them down. He growls and grunts with the effort of resistance, trying and failing to put the images out of his head.

"They're gone!" he snarls, tugging roughly to pull his collar over his mouth to breathe. "Couldn't fucking listen, could they, couldn't save themselves."

The guilt, though. That's new.

Yeah, maybe they were friends and maybe FCG meant . . . Fuck, he's an automaton, Ashton could probably wait out the storm and drag him back to Imahara Joe's. Maybe Fearne's still got that silvery potion . . . fuck it, if FCG's gone anyway what's the point of trying to avoid the risk?

Fearne had looked almost shocked when the blade hit her, cutting deep crimson slashes in her thick fur--

A large chunk of a nearby structure clocks them in the shoulder and Ashton realizes he's wandered far enough from the blast zone that gravity and air are working normally again. The rage ended, too, which probably explains why his shoulder hurts so godsdamn bad.

The little clenched fist, fingers usually so sure and precise, going slack as the blue stone fell from his grip and bounced away. Fuck, he looked so small–

Sharp pain drags Ashton from their thoughts and he flinches, pulling bloody knuckles back from an indentation in the wall he can't remember putting there. He's woozy now, the world's a little bendier than he figures it should be. Maybe . . . . Shit, there's probably a fucking potion on his hip–

The gods don't usually smile on Ashton Greymoore, but apparently someone is looking out today. They gratefully toast the sky (and the ground; who knows where the fuck the funner side of the pantheon actually is?) and downs the potion.

The effect is just enough to take the edge off, but as wounds stitch together and a couple of ribs pop back into place, a different pain settles in.

They're alone.

What the fuck can he do about it anyway? Shit, no one can blame them for getting the fuck out, and if anybody does then fuck off. What good is going and getting himself killed, too? Somebody's gotta tell Eshteross nobody is coming back.

Well, one Nobody, anyway.

There's chaos in the street, people running towards and away from the red storm with glowing girls and bloodied werewolves and a twice-broken corpse and a busted robot and two empty shells where bright sparks used to be . . .

"Fuck!" Ashton hisses, jamming his knuckles into his eyes.

The guilt is new, yeah, but so's that burning ache right next door to it. They wouldn't blame him; hell FCG was practically begging him to get out.

I'd do the same thing, if it were me.

Ashton's heart aches but their feet are moving forward, back into the raging storm.

#cr spoilers #critical role #bells hells #ashton greymoore #c3 e33 #there are a lot of words swirling in my head #cr fanfic

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specialagentlokitty · 1 year

Text

Katara x reader - different

Hiii, would it be possible for you to write a sokka x earthbending! Nonbinary! reader x katara (no incest sokka and Katara are sharing the reader incest is nasty) and the reader is an absolute BOSS at earthbending and can also metal bend and Sandbend 🙏 - Anon💜

A/N: so with the permission from the requester I have separated this into two separate fics as I do not write sibling x reader x sibling relationships

Katara, Aang and Sokka were standing in the middle of an Earth village when people started to crowd around the village square.

“What’s going on?” Sokka whispered.

“Let’s find out.” Aang replied.

Katara nodded her head, and followed the two boys through the crowd until the reached the front, but they still couldn’t understand was going on.

“Come on I didn’t even do anything!” You growled.

“You’re an earth bender, you know the rules.” A fire bender snarled.

You scoffed a little and planted your feet firmly on the ground, letting it harden around your feet so they couldn’t move you.

The villagers cheered and you threw them a wild smirk.

“Either you move willingly or we force you.”

A handful of firebenders stood in front of you, hands ready to attack.

“We have to stop them…” Katara whispered.

“We can’t, it’s to risky.” Aang replied.

“Don’t worry, (Y/N) can bring them all down.” A little boy grinned up at them.

“One more chance!” A soldier yelled.

You scoffed, looking up at the soldier holding you as you gave him a sweet smile.

It was a smile that Katara felt terrified by, the pure innocence of it, yet the pure and unrelenting chaos behind them told a different story.

You shifted your wrists a little bit before you moved your finger just the tiniest bit, a small click coming from the chains binding your wrists together.

“You should’ve used wood…” you whispered.

Launching yourself in the air with the ground below you, you came crashing down behind the fire nation soldier and brought your hands up, trapping him between the earth.

Spinning around, you moved your hands in front of you, a gust of sand blew around them all, blocking everything from sight.

“Get down!” Sokka yelled.

He pulled Katara and Aang down with him, all of them covering their eyes to try and see what was going on.

All they could make out was the light from the flames and that was it.

Not even a minute later the sand settled all around them, and you were stood on a rock pillar, holding the helmets of one of the soldiers.

You crushed it in your hands and tossed it to the floor while the entire village cheered.

“Woah!” Sokka gushed.

“I want them to teach me!” Aang swooned.

Katara rolled her eyes, slowly she looked at you, and you looked at her, giving her a small wink before you jumped down, waltzing over.

You stood next to her and stuffed your hands into your pockets.

“Don’t look now, but I think those soldiers have made who you three are. Meet me at sundown behind the inn.” You whispered.

While the villagers dragged the soldiers away, you walked away and disappeared behind some buildings.

The whole day Katara was thinking about what you said.

“What’s wrong?” Aang finally asked her.

“It’s something that happened earlier, you remember the person who took down the fire nation soldiers?”

The duo nodded and came closer, sitting down with her.

“Well, they told me that the soldiers know who we are, and to meet them behind the inn when the sunsets.”

“Should we do it?” Aang asked.

“Honestly I’m not sure.”

“What do we have to loose? Clearly they’re not on the fire nations side.” Sokka grinned.

Katara nodded, he did have a point. You definitely weren’t on the fire nations side that was clear, but they also knew nothing about you.

Yet, she was curious.

So finally she agreed to do it, and when the sun had started to set they made their way across the village to the inn where you were sat on a barrel, flicking small stones across the street.

You snapped your head towards them when they approached.

“Avatar and friends.” You greeted.

“You knew?” Aang asked.

“You’re not great at hiding. Look, the fire nation have this village surrounded, and they’re ready to strike, they’re closely watching the sky.”

“You mean we’re cornered?” Sokka asked.

“Yes.”

“Then what do we do?”

You turned to Katara and pointed to the floor.

“I can help get you out by travelling underground, but we need to leave in a few hours. If you want out meet me back here in two hours, I’d not I’m going without you.”

You started to walk away.

“Oh, the names (Y/N) by the way.”

That’s how you first met them, and somehow you found yourself joining them in their travels, planning on helping them take down the fire nation.

Aang begged you for a few days to teach him earth bending but you refused, telling him you couldn’t.

Sitting on a small rock as you looked at the fire, you placed your hand on the ground and closed your eyes as you felt the vibrations.

“Is everything okay?” Katara asked.

Opening your eyes, you looked at her and nodded.

“Yeah, there’s movement above us but it must be animals.”

Picking your hand up, you leant against the cave wall and looked at her.

“Why’re you awake Katara?”

“Why won’t you teach Aang.”

“It’s not my destiny. There’s a powerful bender who will teach him all he knows.”

“You’re a powerful bender.”

You smiled a little and have a soft laugh.

Katara smiled back, she liked this smile. A real smile, no hidden intent behind it, just a pure happy smile as you laughed.

You looked at her, resting your arm on your leg.

“You’re pretty good yourself Katara, I’ve met a few water benders, but none as strong as you.”

She blushed a little bit and looked away from you.

“Thanks…” she whispered.

You beamed and stood up, walking over you stood next to her.

She blushed even more, her heart pounding in her chest as she slowly watched a smirk spread across your lips.

“Katara?”

“Yeah?”

You leant across and kissed her cheek before you walked away.

“Good night.”

With that you walked away, laying on the ground, you created your own separate little room and covered yourself with the earth.

She stared at where you were, gently touching the spot on her cheek where you had kissed her.

She wasn’t sure what it was, maybe it was the way you could easily take down the fire nations soldiers, or the fact you were incredibly strong, or maybe the smirk you would give her when you were doing something.

She was completely smitten with you though, completely head over heels, full blown crush on you.

You were badass, and she loved the thrill of possibly dating someone like you

#avatar the last airbender x reader #avatar the last airbender #avatar the last airbender x you #avatar the last airbender imagine #Katara #Katara x reader #Katara x you #Katara imagine

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fanworldbuildingfun · 1 year

Text

“Winds of Cyrene” play on repeat

I come bearing yet another time travel idea (to surprise of absolutely no one). This time, the premise is thus: after the Temple, Desmond awakens in a sealed tomb. At first, he doesn’t realize he is not simply… Gone. Not till he has to get up because something particularly hard has been digging into his back while he ruminated. It’s a trial all on its own – wherever he was, it was cramped, and full of things

Definitely not the Temple. All it had in abundance was, well, space

In the end, he tries to resort to Eagle Vision. It takes a few tries – I’m thinking, because suddenly it feels/acts closer to Layla Trilogy’s version of the vision? And it’s downright odd and headache inducing. But after a few tries, Desmond begins to realize that it’s not just random things surrounding him. Just in hand’s reach, he can make out jars and vases by touch alone. And a few meters to the side? His Vision keeps insisting there’s a chariot, of all things

And the thing he is leaning against?

A stone sarcophagus

Que a mounting sense of dread as the above convalesces into a single picture. Of a tomb

And at this point? Desmond has no idea if it’s just some random tomb, or a tomb made for him, or…

Whatever place it is, he just knows he has to get out of there. All Desmond has is his clothes, his blade, and nothing more. He has no food, no water, and who knows what’s in this place – the air is stale. Musky. And if he managed to somehow survive the Flare? He was not about to waste it by using the tomb for its intended purpose. So he starts exploring. Trying to figure out how to use the new version of the vision. Trying to ignore how it feeds extra information to him that he should not known (what the heck is a khopesh?)

His salvation comes when, having moved one of the heavy crates, he sees a fain, nearly not-there, golden outline of a footprint. Not unlike the ones his ancestor’s targets would sometimes leave. It gives him a direction to search in

For the above, I was very much thinking about the Golden Tomb in Isolated Desert. Why? For the sheer opportunity of Desmond then first stumbling down instead of up, to the manmade entrance. And so, he finds Oun Maa Niye Ressoot. Touching the monolith, even without silica, causes it to activate and his pain to light up in pain. That makes Desmond miss the beginning of the message. A stroke of luck, because, frankly, what he does catch through the bouts of pain, leaves him deeply questioning whether he is even alive or not. Whether this is all some trick of Juno’s or not. At least, until his name is mentioned – but he is not addressed

That… Is a relief

It still leaves Desmond pondering a great many things. For a time. Because whether it’s a simulation or not, the thirst and hunger he feels appear very, very real to him. And he was not risking deciding it was a simulation – and dying for it

He ends up figuring out the teleport

But what he finds once he is no longer blinded by light? This… Appears entirely too empty to be anywhere he knows. And entirely too sandy and hot. So Desmond finds a cover, waits for sunset, and then picks the direction which appears the shiniest to his Eagle Vision

…The Giza plateau he finds is entirely too different for him to even entertain the thought that he is anywhere near his time

From there I’d have Desmond try and find a way back. Perhaps look for more Temples like Oun Maa Niye Ressoot, in hopes that one may help him in it. And on the go, he just – settles into rhythm of doing small favors for people. Or what feels like those, to him, because if there is one thing Desmond doesn’t understand, it’s demotic. And his Greek is pretty shaky too, with Ezio being mostly knowledgeable about Latin. So a lot of it? Is down to charades. But it’s not a big issue to take down a group of bandits, or to find documents that help prove that this one merchant asshole is, in fact, NOT doing his work legally

Somehow, though, Desmond keeps returning to Giza

And one of those times? His vision pings him that something is Off with Sphinx (and Ha! Isn’t that a novel idea? It still had its nose, even)

He ends up following the anomaly and – ends up finding the entrance to the chambers under sphinx

And then, he finds the now-open Eesfet Oon-m'Aa Poo

(Here, I ask you to assume Bayek finished the stone circles after the vanilla story line, but has not yet visited Giza, after)

This time, the reaction is… Much, much stronger. And for a moment? Desmond can practically see Calculations. Or the Reader, whichever you prefer. Except, they are not the only ones in that space. There is a voice calling for someone, in the distance, and it sounds so young - Between an odd glowing silhouette and what sounds like a child, Desmond chose to follow the child’s voice

And that’s how Desmond finds Khemu. Khemu, who is trying to find his father but can’t. And while Desmond realizes this may be a huge ass mess and more than likely just a simulation, not a real person –

He tries to calm the kid the best he can. There is no questioning how he can understand him – Desmond is just relieved he can. After managing to get the kid – Khemu – to calm down, Desmond tentatively offers to get him to his parents. This time, when he walks off in the vague direction of the golden tree, he has a scrawny passenger in his arms. And when he wakes up on the floor of Eesfet Oon-m'Aa Poo? There is the same scrawny body laying on top of him

Loose ideas:

This is set after the Hidden Ones have been created, so the origin story for them remains the same

The understanding Khemu and Desmond shared in Calculations… Didn’t really carry over. But they do their best to try and understand each other – or to teach each other their language. Khemu proved to outstubborn Desmond in that

Khemu also has no idea what Assassins are, or that Hidden Ones even *exist*, so his ideas on what Desmond’s work is… Is a bit wonky

And that is totally how Desmond spends all too long thinking that “medjay” is demotic for “assassin”

This may or may not get the two of them into equal amounts of trouble and good luck. Depends on where they are, really

Desmond totally stole the Isu armor from under the Sphinx, and it definitely looks like the concept art version and not the in-game glowy version

It takes them several months to track Bayek down. Or rather, to accidentally stumble across the Bureau in Memphis.

#Assassin's Creed #Assassin's Creed: Origins #Desmond Miles #Khemu of Siwa #Bayek of Siwa #Desmond the tomb explorer #Desmond the maybe a little tomb looter #Khemu lives

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wolfsbane-and-nettles · 5 months

Note

hehe for the ask fic writer game! 15, 19 and 22 <3

Oh these'll be fun to answer! I totally won't write an essay below...nope. Not at all.

15: How do you come up with titles for your fics/chapters?

Okay, this one is a doozie and I feel like I spend way too much time on deciding what to title things...For my main fic, Chosen Horizons, I spent nearly a week or so deciding on what to actually call it.

I was worried while writing the first draft, that if I gave it a name then I wouldn't finish writing it. Kinda like putting all my eggs in one basket, kinda deal...if that makes sense? So, when I was done the first draft, I took my time to figure it out. I asked myself what I wanted the reader to get from the title...like, if it was published and someone saw it in a library or a bookstore, what feeling I want the cover and title to give them.

I wanted the reader to look at the cover while holding it in their hands and instantly get this feeling of whimsy and adventure, of endless possibilities and adventure! Yet, also a sense of myster, in a way. Yes, there are endless possibilities...but it is about choosing what path you will take.

It is about Bilbo knowing all of his options, and having to make the hard decision of choosing which one to go with.

Once I came to this decision on what I wanted the reader to feel, I was able to come up with a good name...or at least one I felt satisfied with. It wasn't too to the point, not was it too vague...it is just right.

Before I settled on that concept, it was a struggle to figure out exactly what I wanted. I thought having something nature related might me nice, so I threw around a lot of tree and oak related things...like: Music of the Oaks, Nordoindale (my attempt at an elvish "music of the oaks" like the Ainulindale), The Oaks Refrain...and so on.

Then I wanted something more relating to both Bilbo and Thorin, and some of those ideas were: Songs of Earth and Stone, Harmonies of the Heart, Oak and Mountain, Through Meadows and Mountains.

There was one idea I really liked at first, and tossed it around a bunch, mixing it up and trying to make it work..but it didn't fit in the end.

-Of Stone, Soil, and Secrets.

-Secrets in the Soil and Stones

-The Silence of Stone and The Secrets of Soil

But...nothing fit quite like "Chosen Horizons" did. Not only do I feel like it fits not only Bilbo having to make hard decisions, but also Thorin, and everyone else. I remember that one line from the end of the Pirates of the Carribean: Curse of the Black Pearl, where Jack Sparrow goes: "Now, bring me that horizon."

"Horizon" isn't just about the literal place where sky meets land/sea/etc...it is also what is ahead. It is the future. It is what awaits you whenever you look outward and forward. It is a feeling that constantly pulls you forward to keep moving, no matter what may happen.

So, the title "Chosen Horizons" is my attempt at putting all of those thoughts and feelings and ideas into two words....hopefully two words that stick in the reader's mind as much as they do in mine.

19: Give us a small teaser from one of your WIPs.

Oh goodness...I have so many right now that it is hard to chose! I'll just add a small exerpt from the one I currently have open...honestly, I'll probably post a longer teaser from it just for fun! I am absolutely excited to finish writing it, and I hope you like it when it's finally published! -----

“My dear, I am sorry, but I do not know why these birds keep circling our home.” Bilbo sighed through gritted teeth and a forced smile. His eyes twinkled with annoyance to anyone who knew him well, but the problem lay in the fact that no one knew him well…not even himself.

As Bilbo Baggins of Bag End looked up at the bright blue, cloudless sky, he watched as three large black birds circled The Hill. Looking down the path that led from his garden to his front door, he saw his fiance standing with her hands on her hips and a raging look of disapproval on her face.

“That’s your answer to everything, now isn’t it, Bilbo Baggins! I don’t know this, I don’t know that…that’s what you always tell me!” The hobbit hissed at her betrothed, and her lips slipped into a snarl when she saw the absolute look of exhaustion cover Bilbo’s face.

“And that, my dear, is because you know as well as the rest of the land that I don’t know!” Bilbo spoke harshly back, though quickly put back on his mask of kind manners and gentleness. His patience was constantly tested by this woman, and he asked himself more and more every day exactly why he was engaged to her.

How in Yavanna’s Green Gardens could I have fallen for Lobellia Bracegurdle, of all hobbits? Bilbo Thought to himself, trying his darndest to maintain his composure as he pointed at the crows, or whatever black bird they were, flying off to the east once more. Sighing, Bilbo made his way down his dirt and stone path to awkwardly affectionately pat Lobellia’s shoulder.

----

22: Do you know how your fic will end before you start writing?

I always think I do...and I'm always so confidently incorrect. Many times when I start writing a story, I have the ending as the idea first...then I get frustrated because I can't stop the need to add background information. Why is Thorin acting like this? Why is Bilbo doing that? I end up writing so much backstory for what was originally supposed to be a quick little one shot that the original ending changes dramatically from it's original intention.

"Chosen Horizons" originally started as a short little epistolary tale after the Battle of Five Armies...it was around 30k words (originally longer than intended). I was satisfied with the ending...but craved to write the story leading up to it! So now, the first draft is over 400 pages...and it doesn't even take into account that that only covers 1/2 of the now intended story.

So yeah! I totally knew how this story was going to end before I wrote it...but has it changed dramatically since? Though the path to the ending of the story has changed, it's conclusion remains the same:

Thank you again, so so much for asking these! I have a blast rambling about my writing and process...so these made me very happy! I hope my answers were satisfactory and not too rambly...though that is a habit of mine I doubt I'll be rid of any time soon. <3

#asks #hobbit fanfiction #writing fanfiction #fanfic authors #fic writing #fanfiction #fan fic writer asks #current wip #hobbit #bilbo baggins #bagginshield #bagginshield fanfiction

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echantedtoon · 5 months

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Love Doesn't Do Encores Ch43 Piers's Pasio Pastimes

(This is just a compilation of the events that happened with Piers on Pasion Island in Pokemon Masters EX with all the substories he was in. Will be labeled with time skips and Months to keep track of time. The time Piers is away is one year. The song Piers sings when Emmet sees him is Lovely by Twenty One Pilots. Link to the song is below. All of the following events are substories that have happened in the game Pokemon Masters EX and some will be in letter form Piers has written to Y/n/reader. ALSO IMPORTANT: Piers does send the reader more letters than what's mentioned here but these are only the ones highlighting/referencing the events concerning the substories showing what he and Marnie have been up to during the time away.

www.youtube.com/watch?v=3C-2xCuJZYQ)

-JULY-

HHHHHHHHHHHOOOOOOOOONNNNKKK!!!

The giant cruise ship docked on the piers of the Pasio Region. The sky a beautiful blue and people in a large crowd cheering one word over and over and over again.

"LEON!! LEON!! LEON!!"

Why was he here? He didn't want to be here. Not as he walked off the ship carrying two heavy traveling bags trapped to himself following after Marnie and Leon himself. The sight of the Champion making the crowds cheer louder as the unbeatable champion himself arrive. Shooting his own signature pose to the crowd who all cheered louder despite security holding them back. Piers took the chance to look around the docks. In the distance there was a rather large building with a bright golden star where the entire Masters League would take place, many many cute looking houses and brick roads leading everywhere, and come trees here and there. This was it. His home for the next year. Away from you. It took him nearly two months to arrange everything in Spikemuth with his crew and the Chairwoman to make sure his boys would be paid and his town wouldn't go into shambles for the year he was gone. And he had explained evrerything to you in the scramble. You..actually took it rather well. Excited him and Marnie would be getting such an opportunity to spread more awareness to Spikemuth and his music which..he couldn't argue. That was a fair point. But it didn't make it any busier when he had to leave to Hulbury to catch the boat to Pasio. Your smile as you kissed him good bye and gave Marnie a big hug for a send off. He felt his heart shatter. One year. He'd be gone from you for one whole year and there was nothing he could do about it. At least he still had Marnie. Took them all twenty minutes to even get through the crowd and all the way through to the other side where two people were waiting for them.

"Leon! Marnie! Piers!" Heads turned to a familiar sight of Gloria and a young boy her age that they had never seen before. Oh. That's right. Raihan, Gloria, and a few others had come over a month before they did. "Over 'ere!"

Of course the Champion was absolutely delighted to see his surrogate little sister and greeted her with a giant hug. "Hey! Gloria!" Pulling away the Champion smiled at her. "I can feel the excitement in the air! This place sure reminds me of Galar!"

Galar?...This place was nothing like Galar. Nothing like what he had back home with you-

Gloria nodded. "Yeah! Everyone's pumped cuz ye all came! This s' my new friend!'' And she gestured to the boy next to her. "Scottie n' his sister live on the island n' he's gonna show ya where ta get your sync stones for the Masters League."

Her friend smile. "'Ello. It's nice ta finally meet 'cha!' He spoke in the same accent Gloria had. "Yeah! I can show ya right now if ye want."

And Leon agreed. Good. They could get away from the crowd for a bit so he can relax and try to settle in and write his first letter back home to you. But not before Leon turned to give one last hurrah to the crowd.

"Hello, Hello Pasio! Your Galar Champion Leon is here! I promise I'll keep doing my best to deliver the greatest battles for you all to watch! Thanks for the support! Let's all have a champion time! We'll see you at the arena!"

The crowd cheered and Piers shook his head again. "Tch. Looks like your reputation as the Unbeatable Leon proceeds ya here on Pasio as well."

"Hey! Gloria n' I are gonna have some battles too y'know!"

"Yeah, Marnie! We'll jus' have ta show 'em what we're made of when we have our matches! For now though let's get ya'll settled in! You'll like the rooms the Prince set up for us all! Hop's gonna be so happy ta see ya!"

He sighed in relief as everyone agreed as they could finally go and get settled into their rooms and focus on the important bits.

-LETTER-

Y/n,

We made it safely to the Pasio Region. I'm writing this to you after the exhibition match the prince fellow held to welcome Leon to Pasio. I'm sure you saw Marnie. He fought against Karen, she's a part of the Johto Elite Four and she just so happens to be a fellow dark type user. Her friend went up against some heavy competition too. Not going to lie I didn't join by choice. I guess due to retiring soon I wanna step out of the battling spotlight and let Marnie have hers. Even though she didn't win I think this was a great step forward for her. I'm settled in alright. Still rather sleep in my own bed but the hotel room is nice and peaceful. Just got here and I'm already homesick for good old Spikemuth. I sweat after this I'm going to retire even faster just so I won't have to keep all this darn traveling. I hope you're well. By the time you receive this I'll probably have already wrote another for you. Don't worry about me. I'm settled and I was given this thing called a 'Syn Stone'?? It's supposed to help us sync with our pokemon partners I think?? Dunno. Maybe they work like Galar Shooting Stars? I'm sure Sunny's going to have a fun time studying these things.

�� -Piers

-DECEMBER-

Hey Y/n,

It pains me that I won't be able to actually spend the holidays with you and everyone back in Spikemuth. I miss the snow. Being a giant island, Pasio has barely if any snow. Should've seen the giant Christmas shindig Leon held. A lot of little kids loved seeing him giving out the presents. Not that I don't mind it being warm, but I think I would've rather spent it walking through the snow with you. Cheesing sounding I know. Let's make a date of it when I get back. There's a lot to do in Pasio for sure but I miss the regular routine of ours. A lot's happened in the last two months. Turns out there's other gym leaders who share a passion for making sweet music. Ran into them at the square last month by accident. They're a strange but lively bunch. Have you heard of them? They go by Roxie and Ryuki so be sure to look them up on Poketube. Marnie's been fairing well herself. It's good. She's been making a whole lot of new friends one's name is Gladian I think? He's from the Alola Islands and he happens to also be here with his mum and sister. But they're good kids. Ran into one of them in the square. Ended up in me singing when Obstagoon kept egging me on. I think she's also been running a fun beach stand with your mate. Unfortunately it was almost crashed by those weird masked bandits I told you about a couple letters back. But things have been fairing well. Hopefully you'll like the surprise I sent you. I wish I could give it to you in person instead but I'll settle for this. I hope your Christmas was joyful to the fullest.

-Piers

P.S. I don't care what Marnie says. I did NOT cry when she mentioned Morpeko somehow possibly getting snatched from her.

-MARCH-

Dear, Y/n,

....I got no excuse for how late my next letter to you is. You're probably already in the loop as to why from the international news or someone back home telling you, but if by some miracle you don't I guess I better explain myself. You're probably worried sick and angry at me for barely writing you for three months which I don't blame you for. There's apparently been a few villains crawling along Pasio besides those black and white masked bandits and the Prince's father, the King of Pasio, had the entire island locked down and secured after what just happened with us. Ugh...Just recalling it and writing it to you makes my dislike for dynamaxing grow by the second. Somehow that Eternatus thing you told me about survived the initial butt whooping your mates gave it the first time and somehow ended up crashlanding in Pasio and sending random island pokemon dynamaxing left and right like a traffic way during rush hour. Don't ask me how or why it survived or where it was all this time because I don't know and frankly I don't care or want to find out. I'm tired of fighting dynamaxed pokemon after that debactle with those 'royal' twin blokes-.....If they give you any trouble while I'm gone you tell me and I swear I'll take care of it for you not that you can't take care of yourself of course. Don't worry about us. Marn-Marn and I'm doing alright, and so are everyone else. Leon really pulled his weight finally and managed to somehow capture the bloody thing. Thank Arceus. He can keep it. Seeing the thing up close gives me the creeps. I'm just surprised we're not arrested or tossed back to Galar for the ruckus our legendary caused but the royalty here were crazy enough to let us stay and lowered security again as the entire event approaches. Leon's crazier to want to keep the darn thing but it seems to listen and even like the guy and he's been able to control it so I guess there's nothing to really worry about. For now at least. I'm still keeping my and Marnie's distance away from that thing in case.

On a lighter note there has been a few more positive things happening around me as well. It's not all downsides here. They held this small in between competition called the Time Trials. I trained with your mate for them. I see why Kabu likes her. Lots of spunk that one. We also ran into Raihan and trained up him a bit. He ended up sparing his duraludon against this rock type gym leader's tyranitor. I think his name was Brock or something along them lines. Also did you know Pasio has it's own holiday? It's a version of Valentine's Day called Palentine's Day. It's kinda like the first only it's about showing thanks to others through giving them sweets as well as those they fancy. So not much of a difference. Marnie ended up making me some but they got swiped by some punk and there was a whole mess to get them back. But we all made more so in the end everything turned out fine. She's also been trying to gain more popularity by rounding up all the sync pairs from Galar with Lee and her friend. Guess that's partially my fault for not being the best gym leader. Wished I could've been there to celebrate the holiday with you, heard that cafe you work at as a knock out of a red velvet cake. Let's try it together when I get back. Anyways this is getting rather wrong and I don't like to ramble so I'll end this one here. Expect a couple more to make up for lost time though. I wanna write down this sweet poffin recipe that Rock Type leader shared with me. Turns out he was a pokemon breeder before becoming a gym leader.

-Piers

P.S. If anyone tells you of a song called Ballad Of The Sad Older Brother, that does NOT exist and Raihan is teasing me again.

-MAY-

"You say things with your mouth.~ Cobwebs and flies come out!~ I hear a second voice behind your tongue somehow.~ Luckily I can read your mind!~ Flies and cobwebs unwind.~ They will not take you down.~ They will not cast you out.~ Ooout!~ Dear friend here we are again pretending how you think your world is endin'.~ Sendin' signals and red flags n' waves.~ It's hard ta tell the difference between blood n' water these days.~ I'll pray that one day ya see that the only difference between life n' dying is one is tryin'.~ That's all we're goin' to do.~ So try ta love me and I'll try to save you.~"

Another day another performance. Piers was doing another small show to help lift his spirits and keep his mind off things. One year. One year was almost up. Next month the entire Masters Event would happen and he the winner would be decided. He could finally go home. Back to his own house. Back to his own town. Back to you. He couldn't wait to see you again. Just two more months. The letters were still coming but mostly about his slice of life doings here. Mostly about some recipes he picked up he thought you might like or the many small cafes and stores he went to and sending you one or two things he thought you might've liked. And the smaller events and whatever himself or Marnie ended up doing between the time. To say he was relieved and excited this was almost over was the truth. Just two more months and he'd finally be able to go back home and leave this place behind but in the mean time he'd sing his humble songs and try to give his future career and Spikemuth some more attention and entertain people in the process. Marnie was watching him from the sidelines, waiting for him to be done so they could go get lunch together like they had planned.

"Won't you stay alive?~ I'll take you for a ride.~ I WILL MAKE YOU BELIEVE YOU ARE LOVELY!~ Won't you stay alive?~ I'll take ya on a ride.~ I will make YOU believe you are LOVE-LY!~"

He would be done soon so she waited patiently on the sidelines. Although eventually someone wearing a blue and white suit stopped next to her, but she paid in no mind as they watched Piers silently for a few seconds before the man talked.

"What a great song!," the man complimented looking at Piers, "*sigh* There's no Battle Subway on Pasio so I can't serve as a subway boss. Besides riddles, tea, and sweets what can I offer as a butler?" He was speaking more to himself at this point but Marnie did glance at him in interest. "I know I can entertain with a song!"

"If ya wanna entertain with a song-" she spoke catching the man's attention and silver eyes looked at her, "-maybe my big brother can help."

The man blinked at her. "Your brother?"

She pointed towards Piers still singing away as the man followed her hand. "He's the one performin' for the crowd there."

"Your redemption won't grow stale.~ We are now jus' settin' sail on the seas on what we fear.~ Treason is now growin' near to me.~ M' coming clean.~ Arceus hit me straight on.~ Arceus hit me straight on.~ Won't you stay alive.~ I'll take ya for a ride.~ I will make you believe you are lovely.~ Won't you stay alive?~ I'll take ya on a ride.~ I WILL MAKE YA BELIEVE YOU ARE LOVELY!~ You say things with your mouth.~ Cobwebs and flies come out.~ I can hear a second voice behind your tongue somehow.~ Luckily I can read your mind.~ Read your mind.~"

"He's your brother?" Marnie nodded again and the man smiled wider. "Splendid! Getting advice from the musician himself is just fantastic! When can I speak to him?"

"'Ere in a sec. Wait here."

The man did just that as Marnie walked on over and disappeared into the small crowd that had gathered around Piers as he continued to sing away.

"Don't be gone.~ Don't be gone.~ Don't be gone.~ Don't be gone.~ Don't be gone!~ YOU SAY THINGS WITH YOUR MOUTH!~ COBWEBS AND FLIES COME OUT!!~ You say things with your mouth!~ Cobwebs and flies come out!~ You say things with your mouth!~ Cobwebs and flies come out!~ You say things with your mouth!~ Cobwebs and flies come out!~ You say things with your mouth!~ Cobwebs and flies come out!~ You say things with your mouth!~ Cobwebs and flies come out!~" The song ended and the crowd cheered. "THANK YOU!! You're a lovely audience!"

The man still stood there and watched and waited as Marnie just walked up to Piers and the two began talking as the crowd dispersed. As the two siblings chatted she pointed over towards the man wearing a suit and top hat and Piers glanced back up at him for a moment. After talking for a little bit more the two eventually walked on over to him.

"Marnie told me everything," Piers spoke first to the man, "I'm glad ya were moved by my song but I'm sure there's other ways to apply yourself that's more suitable for a butler."

"Then..how can I be more like a butler?"

"I'm not sure since we haven't got any butlers back in Spikemuth. We did however 'ave a lot of freedom. That's why I was able ta sing. If you stay true to yourself people will follow your lead. But if you're still unsure o' yourself." Both watched as he reached a hand to his belt and swiftly held a pokeball up to the man. "You blow those worries away with a pokemon battle!"

"A battle?," the man mused humming to himself before smiling wider and nodding his head. "A battle sounds like a verrrry splendid idea! If you're up to it of course."

"I wouldn't 'ave offered if I weren't. C'mon. Let's go and help ya calm your nerves Mister-"

"I am Emmet! Pleased to make your acquaintance. Let us a have a grand battle!"

Marnie stood again off to the sidelines as the two men sent out one pokemon each and started a one verses one single battle.

"I still don't know what I should do to serve as a butler."

"When workin' on trains and music overthinkin' can throw everything off track. Obstagoon tackle them!," Piers spoke between the battle, "It's important ta keep others in mind but don't forget 'bout your own feelings!"

"My own feelings?"

"M' not sure if this is a useful 'hint' but my big brother 'expresses' himself through song," Marnie added from the sidewalk, "For both Subway Bosses and butlers, I think it's important ta not ignore your heart."

"Be mindful of my own heart..and not just others!"

"Right then! Here's a question from me in the form of a tea party riddle. Aside from being helpful ta your customers, what's 'nother thing you can be that'll show 'em your creative side? Bring at least one sync pair who you think matches the answer!"

"The answer is artistic! I should express what's in my heart!" And with one final order and move from Emmet Obstagoon went down and he had won the battle.

...Piers have a small smile as he returned his pokemon. Obstagoon did a good job so now he can use a good rest. "What a great battle. I can see my soul has reached you now."

"Yes! Thank you! I've realized something important! The reason your song moved me wa because I could feel your heart and soul in it. If I can express my joy, my customers will enjoy it as well! I want to entertain and the customers want to be entertained. Both are valid feelings. I'll wear my heart on my sleeve and make this the best tea party yet!"

"That's the spirit! I can see the conviction on your face. I've got nothin' against tea parties. Marnie n' I'll stop by for some tea."

"Uh..." Piers glanced at Marnie. "I already promised Gloria an' the others I would go with 'em." Piers's brows shot up in surprise. What about their promised day together!? "Fine. Do you wanna come with us, Big Bro?" And Piers smiled again.

"I'll be waiting to serve you with my heart on my sleeve! Because I am Emmet! Butler-Subway-Boss extraordinaire!"

-JUNE-

This was it. The beginning of the last month he'd spend here. All the battling was scheduled for later this month and everyone was getting ready and pumped for the official event that would take place at the Star Pasio Arena. He however couldn't feel more relieved. He was about to go home soon. And you would no doubt watch everyone's performance on the telly. Which made him both nervous and excited as well. But for now he was between practicing and hanging with his mates, which happened to be Leon and Raihan for the moment at the center.

"Wow. It's the end of the year already?," Leon asked at one point, "I can't beleive that much time has passed since we first came to Pasio."

"You're only realizing that now?!," Raihan asked him in a teasing way.

"Hahaha! It's just starting to sink in now. We've been battling all sorts of other sync pairs and even Hop and Sonia came. So we haven't had much time to sit back and relax now that I think about it."

"Uh." Both men looked at him. "I hate ta break up the warm sentiment you've got goin' here, but we've still got to show everyone what we're made of. Right, Leo?"

Leon's face lit up and he nodded. "Right! Let's keep up the great work, Lads!"

Piers nodded as the three got up. Back to training together. But that's alright. Helped to pass the time. He smiled wider thinking of it. Just one more month. Just one more month and he'll be back with you.

#pokemon sword and shield #pokemon shield #pokemon sword #pokemon swsh #love doesn't do encores #reader x piers #pokemon piers x reader #pokemon piers #piers x reader

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c-rose2081 · 2 years

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Broken Moon || Safe Place (Drabble)

*dark themes*

@sayorseee likes the hospital fics and @theredrenard asked for some monster guilt. Two birds with one stone for my fav people 🤍

—

Pain. Pain. Pain.

It’s all Addison could feel. The monster inside her head was running circles, ecstatic at her agony. At her suffering. Because the weaker she got, the stronger it became. There was seemingly no part of her untouched by the ache. No part of her that wasn’t absolutely screaming out for her to just end it. Because god what the hell happened to her?

Pain. Pain happened to her.

And then…suddenly, nothing. No more pain. A rush of warmth; the screaming wail of a siren. No. Nonono. No hospitals! No hospitals, or doctors, or anyone who could see the scars she had gone through her whole life hiding. Nonono.

Addison bucked. She felt hands trying to hold her down as she screamed in terror. Between each ragged breath, she had to hold tight to the leash of her demon. Because with every howl that ripped from her throat, the more excited it became. Excited for an extra day. Excited for a meal. Excited for whatever such a creature did when it was let loose. She couldn’t allow it. She wouldn’t allow it. There was no place for a monster like her in a hospital where something could to so terribly wrong.

But where there was only pain before, there was now led in her blood. Warm heaviness that weighed her down to the point of exhaustion. The night after a full moon wasn’t usually so violent, but obviously her demon had gotten into some trouble. And when her beast got hurt, so did she. More than once Addison had woken after a full moon to find herself covered in claw marks, or scratches from rib to hip. The monster didn’t care if it hurt itself, because it enjoyed her suffering. Because whatever mark it had on itself, Addison would have to. Normally her mom would patch her up in the basement, just to make sure nothing unexpected happened. But mom wasn’t here anymore.

Addison didn’t even know where ‘here’ was.

She didn’t know what was going on outside the darkness, other than the fact that she couldn’t move. She couldn’t speak. There wasn’t anything she could do but wait, and dig her heels in to wrangle her monster. And for a long time, that’s what her days consisted of. Waiting, sleeping, being in pain before the warmth returned, then back again. Fighting with her demon; arguing with it to settle down because it wasn’t getting more than one night if she had any say. Naturally, it tried to choke her in return for her disobedience, which resulted in more alarms going off, and more warmth in her veins. And more sleep.

And then, after what felt like forever, the haze began to lighten. She could breathe easier, but not without the awkward tweak of pain. She recognized the feeling; a bruised rib maybe, but nothing broken. A bit more time, and the haze turned to light dozing, and sounds became clearer in her head. Faint beeping, the rush of fluids through narrow tubes, distant talking and clattering of metal wheels. Yep. There was no doubt she was in a hospital. And that meant everyone inside was in danger.

Addison forced her consciousness forward; a skill she had mastered over her many years of constant injury and unconsciousness. Her eyes opened, only to close rapidly at the light. Last she checked it had been nighttime…nighttime with two perfectly round lights coming right at her. She inhaled sharply, forcing her eyelids to part again and stay open. Above her, there was a ceiling made of cork board tile and a plastic fire alarm cover. Below, Addison could feel the wrinkle of stiff white bedsheet, and the depression of a mattress.

The room was white, and smelled overly sterile. It was cold too, like winter had come early. Her body felt heavy, but no longer totally numb. And as she shifted, wanting to sit up, something stopped her. It held her elbow in place, keeping her from moving. Addison tried the other arm, only to find the same sort of restraint. She was tied down. Oh god, had she done something?

Had she killed somebody else?

Addison gasped in panic, not hearing the alarm of a machine above her head as she began to yank at her arms, trying to free herself. She wasn’t safe here, no one was safe with her here. She needed to leave. She needed to leave right now.

“…Mr. Neceodopolis…!”

Addison only heard the familiar name. She was too busy trying to free herself, trying to rip this bed apart so she could get somewhere with less chance of hurting someone.

“Addison! Addison stop! Stop!”

That voice. She knew that voice. That was a safe voice, wasn’t it?

“Addison,” two hands landed on her arms, pressing them down to the mattress. She was staring up into two wide, dark eyes. They looked exhausted…more exhausted then usual, considering Zed was a zombie, and zombies always looked exhausted, “don’t panic. It’s alright.”

“W-where am I…?” She managed through short gasps, trying and failing to keep back her tears, “w-what did I do? Did I hurt someone?”

“No. No, you didn’t do anything,” Zed told her, “you’re at z-general; you were in an accident.”

“A-accident?” Addison stuttered weakly, “but why…”

She flexed her hand under Zed’s, “these…?”

“You were flipping out,” he admitted with a frown, “you had to be treated, but you got scared. You wouldn’t let the nurses help you.”

“I don’t remember,” Addison admitted with another small, shuttering gasp, “how long have I-I been here?”

“A few days now. You’re hurt really bad, alright? So you need to calm down.”

“No. Nonono, It’s not safe. I can’t be here,” Addison told him desperately, “please Zed, please I can’t…” she moved to start pulling again, feeling her heart begin to race and her need to be anywhere else return to grip her heart. But Zed was right there above her still, using his mere presence to keep her pinned.

“Stop moving. It’s fine; no one is going to hurt you here.”

Someone hurting her wasn’t what she was afraid of.

“Just relax,” Zed insisted again, glancing elsewhere for a brief second before returning his attention to her, “look at me. Everything is fine.”

“But…” Addison wanted to keep fighting, she had plans to fight until she was out of this place and far away. But the warmth she had been feeling in her unconsciousness returned. It shot up through her arm, spreading into her veins. The words on her mind immediately turned to ash, and the small amount of strength she had found in her panic dissolved into nothing.

“…that should do it…” someone said distantly, their voice already fading off as Addison felt her body go limp against her will, “…her body…can’t hold medication very well…”

“…she’s fine…?”

“…needs rest…you should…”

The sentences became fragmented and indecipherable. Addison felt her breathing even out. The strain of her muscles released, and Zed finally removed his hands from hers. She didn’t really want him to leave. She so desperately didn’t want to be alone. She wanted to tell him so, she wanted to scream it at him actually, but only managed a pathetic little puppy whimper. This place, this hospital, it wasn’t safe.

But Zed?

Zed was a safe place. Even if they only talked once, maybe twice in passing in the past, Addison just knew. Because it was settled in his dark eyes, amidst the concern, and the worry. The shred of kindness that had scared her off at the lunch table the day before the full moon was still there. She had smote his attempt at friendship, yet here he was anyway. Leaning above her, waiting patiently, not ever leaving her sight even as her lips parted to give a final exhale before her eyes drifted shut, and she was cast back into a weightless, silent darkness.

And though her monster once again began running laps like the caged thing it was, Addison didn’t hold it quite so tight. Because Zed was here…somewhere. She knew he was.

And for now, that had to be enough.

#disney zombies #tw dark content #tw hospital #zombies broken moon #addison wells #werewolf!addison #drabble requests #zed necrodopolis #zeddison #fanfiction #zombies fanfiction #writing #hurt/comfort #angst #alternate universe #werewolf AU #z o m b i e s #z o m b i e s 2 #z o m b i e s 3

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kittymaine · 2 years

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True Love’s First Kiss

// This was a fill for Geraskier week. The prompt was Soulmates.

Summary: Young people in the town Jalten are coming under the power of a fatal curse. Only people who have not connected with their soulmate are being affected and even Jaskier has come under the power of the curse. Can Geralt break the curse before it's too late? Tune in next week to find out! //

Geralt could tell that something was wrong in the town of Jalten as soon as he rode in. There was a certain stench that a menaced citizenry puts off that was hard to ignore, even when it was laced with the smells of rain and cow shit that overtook much else.

Experience told him to go straight to the elder of the village without wasting time settling Roach into a stable or trying to clean the grime of the road off of her or himself. It was unlikely he would get any kind of welcome in town until he earned it by solving whatever issue it was they were dealing with. Keeping his hood down low, he asked a few passerby who was in charge and where he could find them. Finally, the fifth person he asked begrudgingly gave him the information he was looking for. He was lucky. Sometimes he didn’t get an answer at all.

Their instructions led him to the north side of the village to a nice home that wasn’t much larger than the rest of the wood and stone buildings surrounding it. He dismounted and tried to do the service of kicking as much mud as he could off of his boots before he knocked on the door. When he did knock, an old man bent by age and skin weathered by the sun answered and squinted up at him through the rain.

“Hello?” he asked, examining Geralt with the edge of someone with experience dealing with strange people on his doorstep.

“Hello,” Geralt replied, trying to sound as solicitous as possible. “I am a witcher just passing through and came to offer my services, if they’re needed.” Short and to the point, but also respectful. Good enough.

The old man’s white eyebrows raised a little higher on his creased forehead and he leaned out the door a little to squint up at Geralt and under his hood.

“Ah. A witcher,” the man sighed in what seemed like relief, reaching up one wizened hand to stroke at his beard. “Yes, yes. Your services are direly needed. Please, come in.”

The old man turned his back on Geralt and retreated inside his modest home, confident that Geralt would follow him inside. After a short pause to indicate his surprise at the easy reception, Geralt did. He found the old man at the stove, putting a kettle on and fiddling with some dented tin cups.

“I suppose you heard that someone in our town is slinging curses. Absolutely terrible stuff. The people must really be in a tizzy if you’ve already heard of it. I didn’t even know there was a witcher in town,” the old man was saying. Geralt took the time to examine the inside of his home as he went on. It looked completely normal. There seemed to be no one else in the home, despite signs of a woman’s touch near the hearth, cozy lace added to the end of tablecloths and curtains. There were a number of chairs and benches and stools stuck in every corner of the room near the hearth, indicative of a lot of visitors. He supposed that made sense if the old man was the leader of the small town. Nothing was in great condition, though it did seem that there was care put in to repairing any damage and trying to get the most out of every item.

“I’m Albert, by the way,” the old man added without a glance back toward Geralt.

“Geralt,” he answered shortly, returning the pleasantry.

“Do you have much experience with curses, Geralt?” he asked, taking a careful seat on easily the comfiest and most heavily used looking seat in the room.

“Some,” Geralt said, under-selling himself quite a bit, but not wanting to sound too confident. “I have more experience slaying monsters, but I can track down the cause of a curse for you, if that’s what you need.”

“That is indeed what we need. Most of our young people have been afflicted and the curse has proved to be deadly. If it goes on much longer, it could very well spell doom for our little town.” The kettle on the stove started to rattle as it heated up, the metal rattling side to side on an uneven base.

“What are the symptoms and how many people have been affected?” Geralt asked, shifting a little on his feet.

“Please. Take a seat,” Albert gestured to a rough hewn wooden chair with a repaired leg directly opposite him. Geralt awkwardly took a seat there, unused to being treated civilly and not sure if there was an ulterior motive to asking him to sit. “It first presents as some kind of wasting disease. The victim grows weak and tired. By the time they are too weak to walk they begin fainting. By the time the fainting starts, the marks begin to appear.”

“Marks?” Geralt prompted him, still sitting stiffly on the edge of the wooden chair.

“They look like vines, though the color varies. Black and green seem to be the most popular. Once the marks show up, the victim is bed ridden. We’ve already lost the first three to the curse, so I am afraid you can’t interrogate them.”

Geralt grimaced. That was indeed bad news. Often the first to be afflicted by a curse held the key to determining its cause.

“And you said it primarily affects young people?” Geralt asked.

“Yes, but it is more precise than that,” Albert answered.

Just then, the rattling of the kettle must have reached a noise level that Albert found satisfactory as he climbed to his feet with a grunt and used a nearby cloth to lift the kettle off the stove. He poured the hot water into two tin cups he had nearby and proffered one to Geralt. Geralt sniffed at the steam and picked up the smell of pungent herbs. Nothing offended his nose or worried him about what smells he could identify, so he took a cautious sip. It tasted incredibly bitter and medicinal, but the warm water felt nice as it ran down his throat.

Albert sat heavily in his own padded chair and took a long loud slurp of his own cup and sighed heavily. He relaxed back into his chair and seemed comforted by his tea.

“The curse only seems to affect people with unconsummated soul marks. It hasn’t affected them all at once. We’re not sure what is causing it, but it is quite dire.”

“Soul marks?” Geralt asked, frowning. Curses could be set upon people by all sorts of factors. They could be cast on specific individuals from afar, they could be caused by touching or otherwise interacting with cursed objects and in some cases caused by powerful monsters. He wasn’t sure he had heard of a curse that affected people based only on whether or not they had consummated soul marks or not. “That is very unusual,” Geralt added as diplomatically as he could.

Albert took another noisy sip of his tea. “Yes, I hadn’t heard of anything like it before either.”

“Would it be possible to speak to some of the people affected? They might hold some clue to what is causing the curse,” Geralt asked.

“That might be difficult,” Albert responded. “Many people in the village are superstitious. They already are distrustful of witchers and with their children on their deathbeds they may not be amenable to allowing them near a witcher.”

Geralt expected as much. To say people were distrustful of witchers was a bit of an understatement, but Geralt appreciated Albert trying to soften his words, unnecessary as it was.

“However, there is a traveler who was passing through who was affected by the curse. He’s being treated by the local physician and can’t protest while he relies on our care for him. I will arrange for you to talk to him.”

“Thank you,” Geralt nodded and knocked back the last of his tea with a grimace. The taste was still acrid, but the warmth was appreciated.

“No, thank you, Geralt the witcher,” Albert smiled placidly. “If you can stop this curse for us, we will be greatly in your debt.”

The traveler, of course, turned out to be Jaskier. Geralt wasn’t surprised so much as he was exasperated. And, after a moment to let that exasperation rush through him, a creeping sense of dread. The curse was fatal, after all.

“Geralt!” Jaskier exclaimed and tried to sit up as soon as he walked through the small threadbare curtain strung around the narrow cot acting as his bed. He tried to get up but was quickly guided back down onto his back by the brisk physician. She shrewdly glanced back at Geralt as she straightened up.

“You two know each other, I take it,” she said dryly.

Geralt tried to wipe the constipated expression off his face, he really did. “We’ve met.”

“You don’t know the weight this takes off my chest!” Jaskier exclaimed, trying to gesture expansively, but managing to more like flop his arms out. “Miss Phylis, I have the greatest confidence in my dear witcher. He will surely find a cure for this cursed, ah, curse,” Jaskier went on, his voice rough and his face pale and pinched despite his attempt to reach his usual vigor.

“Jaskier. You look terrible,” Geralt said as he stepped closer and took a seat on an uneven and diminutive three legged stool by his bedside.

“How cruel of you to say so,” Jaskier responded, pressing his hand to his chest.

“How did this happen?” Geralt asked, getting to the point. The lady physician excused herself to the other side of the curtain, her obligation to introduce Geralt to Jaskier completed.

“I’m afraid I don’t have much to tell you. I showed up in town, I played a few shows, and walked around town. By the third morning, I couldn’t get out of bed. Now, I’m as you see me,” Jaskier responded with an attempt at a self deprecating laugh that comes off as despairing.

Geralt did see him. He was pale and sweating, his normally burnished brown hair dark with sweat. His eyes looked unfocused and his breath had a distinctly unhealthy smell, like something in his lungs or mouth were rotting. The signature curling vines were also present, looming threateningly up from the collar of Jaskier’s sweat stained undershirt. They were black with threatening thorns hidden among the leaves and buds or unbloomed flowers.

“Tell me specifically everything you did, everyone you spoke to, everything you ate,” Geralt growled, leaning closer. The stink of sickness clung to Jaskier but rather than putting Geralt off it put him on edge. Jaskier may only have a few days until the curse ran its course.

“You have to be joking,” Jaskier grimaced and seemed to try and sink further into his thin cot.

“I’m afraid not. The cause of the curse could have been anything. I need more information if I’m going to track it down.”

Jaskier’s grimace of distaste lingered, but he didn’t protest further. Instead, he started to talk. He talked and talked, at first with the energy and flair as he usually did, then the energy tapered off until he was just reciting events. By the time he got halfway through the events of his second day, the lady physician jerked the curtains aside and gave Geralt a threatening look.

“I think our bard is quite done for today,” she said curtly and then loomed threatening over Geralt despite being maybe one third his size.

He looked up at her evenly and then looked at Jaskier. He seemed to be struggling to stay awake and was sweating more than when Geralt first came in. He needed to rest, Geralt knew. That still didn’t stop the anxiety in his gut that pushed him to keep wringing information from the withering bard.

He stood instead. “I’ll look into what I have so far and come back for the rest tomorrow.”

Geralt was true to his word and retraced Jaskier’s steps for the rest of the day. First to the inn, where he booked a room for himself from the reluctant innkeeper who only became more reluctant as Geralt pressed him for information on anything unusual during Jaskier’s stay. Then, a brisk walk through the town, back around to the inn, and so on through the events of Jaskier’s day.

Nothing struck him as odd and so far as he could tell he didn’t seem to gain the curse, though to be fair he wasn’t sure if he would be susceptible. He had been advised that the soulbond had been removed from him along with his ability to reproduce. That meant that he was technically unbound, but also that he didn’t seem to have any potential to be bound. He knew so little about the curse, he couldn’t begin to theorize if this made him a target or not.

Trudging through the wet stinking little town, Geralt allowed himself to think on soul bonds and the circles on the pinky fingers of most of the villagers he passed by. Most of the young children had the pale gray rings that indicated they hadn’t yet met their soulmates. Black for the young people who had met their soulmates and pink or red for the people who had consummated their bonds, whatever that meant for that particular couple. Of course, there were also the older villagers with no rings on their little fingers, one half of a widowed pair. Then, there was Geralt with the thick scar tissue circling his pinkie, obscuring any bond he might have once had.

Destiny would supposedly lead him to his soulmate, if he believed in that rot. Jaskier’s ring was black and had been since he met him, but the talkative bard had never mentioned who it might be. Jaskier talked about just about everything else, so Geralt avoided bringing it up assuming it to be a sensitive subject. It would be convenient if whoever they were could just show up and consummate their bond and save poor Jaskier from a cruel fate, but destiny was never so kind as that, at least in Geralt’s experience.

Before the sun sunk too far below the horizon, he returned to the elder Albert to ask if any of the other victims would be willing to talk to him.

Albert pulled a grimace not so different from the one Jaskier had pulled earlier that day. “I doubt their opinions have changed, but I’ll see if I can persuade any of them,” he said before bidding Geralt good night and shutting the door tight. He would have no warm welcome that night, not that he was surprised. He thought he heard the step of light feet and swish of skirts behind Albert. The elder himself may not have been afraid of him, but apparently Geralt was too big of a risk to take with the women who helped care for his home.

That night in his small cramped room in the eaves of the inn, Geralt found himself stuck on Jaskier’s appearance when he had visited him earlier that day. The black curling vines. The sallow sweat slicked skin. Three people had already died. How long did his bard have?

If Geralt slept that night, it was short and fitful. The next day was beautiful and warm and people were already talking and working and shouting down the lane when he stepped out before dawn.

Geralt wasted no time heading to the physician and Jaskier. He needed some hint, some clue as to where to begin. He still had no real leads on the cause of the deadly curse except for Jaskier.

The physician’s expression was grave when she opened the door at his knocking. “I have no time to watch over the bard today,” she said as she stepped around Geralt, a basket heavy with clinking bottles and dry herbs looped over her arm. “I am trusting you not to overstrain him today. He gets worse every hour.” And with that, she was striding quickly down the dirt lane and away from her small house.

Geralt hesitantly let himself into her home and gently shut the door behind himself. The house was warm from the low fire still burning in the hearth and there was a sharp acidic smell in the air. The curtains around Jaskier’s cot was cracked open and Geralt could see his straining chest rising and falling quickly with his harried breaths.

Something wormed its way in Geralt’s stomach, something that was like fear but perhaps even more primal than that. Dread, maybe.

He stepped slowly toward the curtains and carefully pulled it aside once he got close enough. Jaskier’s eyes were open, but they were filmed over and seemed to not see anything. The sweat had slicked his hair dark and soaked through his thin white shirt. The black vines had wormed their way all the way up his throat to tickle at his jaw. They had also extended down his forearms and onto the back of his hands.

“Jaskier,” Geralt whispered, that crawling feeling in his gut solidifying into a rock, something heavy and solid that seemed to root his feet to the ground.

Jaskier’s eyes fluttered at the sound of his name and cast around the room until they eventually landed on Geralt. At the sight of him, Jaskier’s eyes seemed to focus on him and a small friendly smile struggled onto his face.

“Geralt,” Jaskier greeted him, his voice cracking. “I’m so glad to see you,” he said, his voice small and pained despite the innocuous nature of what he had said.

“Jaskier,” Geralt said again, forcing himself to step forward and fumble to sit on the same stool from the day before. “The vines,” Geralt said, stopped, fumbling his words. He wanted to say they had gotten so much worse, that Jaskier looked like he was on death’s door. But, he didn’t want to alarm him.

Jaskier sighed and lifted his arm so that he could look at the back of his hand. As he watched, the vines there twitched and stretched toward his knuckles a little more. “Yes. They’ve about taken over, haven’t they?” Jaskier said what Geralt didn’t dare to.

“I didn’t find anything,” Geralt spit out, a guilt he didn’t realize was growing in his chest bursting out. “I failed you and all the others with this curse.”

Jaskier looked surprised for a moment. Then the stink of fear permeated the space around his bed, but his expression was one of resignation. “Ah, that’s alright, love,” Jaskier replied, a small smile struggling to his face again.

“It’s not alright,” Geralt growled. “Jaskier, you’re dying.”

“Aren’t we all?” Jaskier snarked back, wrinkling his nose back at Geralt and his twisted face.

“Jaskier,” Geralt said in reprimand.

“If I am truly dying, won’t you grant this dying man a boon?” Jaskier asked with all seriousness, though there was a spark of mischief in his eyes.

“You’re not dying,” Geralt snapped in a knee jerk reaction.

“You just said that I’m dying,” Jaskier reminded him with a pointed finger and a wry expression.

Geralt ran a rough hand over his face. Jaskier took that for the reply that it was.

“Do you want to hear my request or not?”

Geralt heaved a sigh, but on second thought he pondered that he should take Jaskier seriously. Things were looking rather dire.

“What is your request?” he ground out.

Jaskier tapped one finger on his chapped bottom lip and looked at Geralt with determination. “A kiss,” he said shortly.

Geralt gave him the most incredulous expression he could manage, but Jaskier remained determined. “You can’t be serious,” Geralt replied, when Jaskier didn’t shortly afterward admit to the joke.

“I am. I’m dying! I would like one kiss before I die,” Jaskier protested.

“Why not ask the lady physician?” Geralt asked desperately. Surely any half attractive looking woman from the village would be better than him.

“Because I’m not asking her, I’m asking you,” Jaskier snapped back.

Geralt scoffed and Jaskier tried to scoff back, but it turned into a cough that quickly began to wrack his entire body. Geralt put a steadying hand on Jaskier’s shoulder and after Jaskier got hold of himself he pressed his own sweaty palm over Geralt’s calloused hand.

“This is a very odd thing to request,” Geralt said gruffly, a little upset that Jaskier even on his deathbed can give him this hard of a time.

“And yet here I am requesting it,” Jaskier says with a frown. “I would pontificate on how wrong you are, but I am getting rather tired.”

Geralt twisted his lips. He still found it strange that Jaskier would want a kiss from a big rough man like himself, but ultimately it was such a small request from a man who had been such a steady friend and ally. What would it cost him to do this for Jaskier? Such a small sliver of his pride as to be nothing.

Sighing as if he was being badly put upon, Geralt used the hand he still had on Jaskier’s shoulder to lean forward over him. The smell of sickness still hung thick around Jaskier and it was thicker this close. Geralt tried to instead focus on Jaskier’s eyes, still such a striking blue color as when they first met and so much sharper and brighter than he remembered.

Jaskier held very still, so still he almost seemed to be vibrating. Geralt tried his best to ignore it, ignore Jaskier dying beneath him, ignore those piercing eyes watching him so closely, ignore the wash of stagnant breath against his mouth. He pressed his mouth against Jaskier’s and felt the rasp of his chapped lips against his own. His mouth was plush and soft and his skin feverish. Jaskier sighed through his nose once they were touching, the tension quickly bleeding from him beneath him.

Geralt moved away but not too far away. Just far enough that he could look at Jaskier’s eyes, check for disgust, for regret, or even humor. But, Jaskier’s eyes were closed and Geralt was not sure but he thought he saw tears gathered at the base of his thick eyelashes.

Then, they both heard it. The loud sound of dry leaves and sticks moving quickly.

Jaskier’s eyes flew open and Geralt quickly sat back and they watched as the once closed blooms on the vines printed on Jaskier’s skin bloomed in a brilliant yellow before quickly withering and retreating back under Jaskier’s shirt. The vines sucked back in with the disturbingly realistic shushing sound of rustling dry underbrush.

Both Geralt and Jaskier stared at the vines for a long time, stunned into silence by the sudden turn of events. Hand shaking, Jaskier slowly raised his left hand and there on his pinky finger the previously black ring was now a happy pink blush. They both dethawed at the same moment, though with very different reactions.

“Fuck,” Geralt spat at the same moment that Jaskier yelped an exultant “Yes!”

The reactions and exchange that followed were similarly opposing. Geralt could taste salt in the back of his throat and snapped his denial to Jaskier’s energetic babble. So much for Witcher’s not having bonds. He certainly didn’t feel the magnetic pull or fluttering butterflies that all the songs and poems told about, but it seemed that didn’t prevent him from having a bond and likely just made it very difficult for him to follow the cues toward his soulmate. Jaskier obviously didn’t have that issue nor did he have any fear or qualms about chasing Geralt to the ends of the earth, based on the way he was bragging and struggling up onto his knees to chase after a second kiss.

“Sit back down!” Geralt barked. “You’re still weak.”

“Perhaps another kiss will whisk away my lingering illness,” Jaskier tried, straining against Geralt’s hands where they were clapped around his shoulders.

“Alright,” Geralt grunted flatly, pushing Jaskier back down onto the cot forcefully.

Jaskier sighed dramatically from his sudden recline on the lumpy cot. “I feel like the princess in a fairy tale, saved from certain death by a dashing prince.”

“There are so many things wrong with that statement,” Geralt rumbled. “You’re not a princess, this is not a fairytale. I am definitely not a prince.”

Jaskier didn’t seem to be listening. “Surely we will have our happily ever after.”

“I still need to track down the cause of this curse so before you get up to any more trouble, you’ll be telling me the rest of what you did.”

“Perhaps you can just kiss the rest of the people in this village and we can be on with it.”

Geralt’s glare told him what he thought of that idea. Jaskier sighed in a put upon fashion and tried to wriggle the lumps out of the cot beneath his back. He supposed he would be stuck there for a while until he gave Geralt the information that he was looking for.

He cleared his throat and tried to settle his heart, beginning to recite the events of the rest of his time in the village.

Three days later, Jaskier and Geralt rode out of the village of Justen together. Jaskier was riding on Roach for the first time while Geralt walked, ostensibly because Jaskier was still visibly weak on his feet. Geralt would have preferred to have stayed in town a little longer, but it was clear that, despite the kindness of the elder Albert, the town preferred for Geralt to leave. Jaskier would have been free to stay longer and recover, but he refused to do so without Geralt. In fact, he made it clear he would not agree to them separating ever again if he could help it.

He was currently trying to compose an epic ballad on the events that lead to what he called their ‘epic coupling’, a phrase that never failed to cause intense shame to crawl under Geralt’s skin. They had yet to go any further than that first kiss, but he had no doubt that once Jaskier was up to good health he would be almost impossible to put off.

“What rhymes with ‘witch’?” Jaskier mused to himself. “Twitch, Switch, Hitch?”

“Bitch,” Geralt added flatly.

“Ah!” Jaskier exclaimed. “I am much classier than that, my friend! I’m offended you would even suggest it.”

“When are you going to get to the part where you fail to mention getting your fortune told by a suspicious old woman?” Geralt grunted.

“She wasn’t suspicious!” Jaskier exclaimed. At Geralt’s skeptical look, he revised his statement. “Getting your fortune told is a very common thing that you can find in any number of small towns! I had no reason to be suspicious of it.”

“You did have reason to be suspicious and instead you got yourself cursed,” Geralt responded gruffly.

“Well, it all turned out for the best, didn’t it?” Jaskier said with a fond smile and something just short of a leer.

Geralt pointedly looked at his shoes. “Just don’t expect the next curse to turn out so well,” he cautioned.

“I won’t have to worry about getting cursed again, as I’ll have an experienced Witcher by my side,” Jaskier said cheekily.

Geralt had nothing to say to that. He wasn’t wrong. Geralt didn’t intend to shake Jaskier off. Just the thought of the long road ahead of the both of them, a long unbroken trail of companionship, warmed him.

He fondly grasped Jaskier’s ankle and gave it a little shake. Jaskier looked down and smiled warmly at Geralt’s averted face.

A long trail of adventure laid ahead of them both and for once Geralt found himself looking forward to it.

#fanfiction #the witcher #geraskier #geralt/jaskier #soulmates #curses #kittywrites

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quietpagan · 1 year

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Trollhunters: What Falls and What Grows, ch. 21.

Also on AO3

“When life is not coming up roses Look to the weeds and find the beauty hidden within them.” ― L.F.Young

Draal entered the library after a very itchy but otherwise relaxing morning of avoiding absolutely everybody who might be inclined to bully him into the Healing Dwell, only to find the Trollhunter, Blinky, and AAARRRGGHH sitting around in various states of disarray and looking rather put-out.

The market had been a bit more tumultuous than usual on this trip from his rooms to the library, and he was about to ask what was going on before the Trollhunter opened her mouth.

“Have you eaten anything from Baak the Burger Guy’s stand recently?” Draal had literally just entered the door, he was not expecting an interrogation – but at least it wasn’t about him avoiding Pottlebot and her damn stinky healing unguents. He reached a hand up to scratch the back of his neck, where a spot of peeling skin was bothering him. “Erm, no?” he replied. Alexandra visibly relaxed, settling down on a stool as her claws restlessly tapped her thighs.

“Baak’s been selling food made from human meat.”

Draal’s hand dropped, disturbing a pile of books from a table. They slid onto the floor as he stared at Alexandra.

“…Ah.”

Alexandra rounded on him in a flurry.

“Yes, ah. ‘Ah’ as in – as in – oh God oh fuck – “ Alexandra spun on her heel and ducked around him, just barely exiting the library before emptying her stomach on the stone outside. Draal turned around and grabbed a fistful of her hair out of her face. There was another heaving noise.

“I will guess that you ate one of Baak’s burgers?”

She spat angrily.

“Yes I ate one of Baak’s fucking burgers.” “Disgusting.” “It was good,” she whispered, in a voice that was almost shaking. She spat again and leaned against the wall, gesturing tiredly as trolls passed by.

“Do you…erm…” Alexandra wiped her mouth against her shoulder.

“No, I don’t want to talk about it,” she croaked. “I want you to get to the goddamn healer. I’ve got ten separate issues warring for attention right now and I am going to make your disregard for your own health Issue Number One to distract me from the fact that I enjoyed a fucking human-burger, and Blinky’s asking me questions. Start walking.”

Draal took the moment to lean away from the sour scent of vomit – away from the direction of the Healing Dwell.

“I require nothing.” “Your skin is flaking off every time you move and it’s disgusting.”

“Discussing? What are we discussing? Because I have a few topics I would like to bring up,” shouted Blinky from inside the library.

Alexandra straightened up with a groan and shoved Draal further into the hallway.

“Quick, quick, get a move on.”

Draal allowed himself to be pushed for a total of ten feet, whereupon he twisted away from the Trollhunter, using his superior strength to get out of her grip – only to stop when she actually summoned the armor and yanked his arm behind his head, forcing him to walk at an awkward cant, the tip of her sword hovering just behind his back. A few alarmed murmurs echoed from the crowd.

“Nothing to be concerned about,” said Alexandra, pushing again until Draal started forward. “Just reluctant to see the healer.”

There were some aborted chuckles and Draal felt himself flush. Alexandra’s hand on his wrist tightened, another digging into his side where she’d grabbed the edge of his kilt.

“Are you really going to make me drag you at sword-point to the healers, like a child?” she hissed.

Draal was finding it remarkably difficult to speak, actually, with the uncomfortable position.

“You would escort a child to the healers at sword-point?” he managed.

“A child could be reasoned with before it ever got to that point. You, on the other hand, require handling, apparently.”

The healers were highly amused at Draal’s undignified predicament and quickly cleaned and dressed the wendigo cuts on his front and scrubbed away the remaining evidence of his tussle with the anstramonstrum with a pumice stone, which truly did feel quite good, loathe as he was to admit it. Pottlebot, the demon, slathered him from head to toe with the most disgusting unguents she could make up, and by the time the Trollhunter allowed him to escape the Healing Dwell Draal was nearly dripping in foul, bitter ointments.

“Don’t look so pleased with yourself, Hunter,” he growled, dancing away when she tried to hip-check him as he led the way to the Hero’s Forge. Alexandra did not heed him, and continued to look as smug as possible.

Hands sticky and slippery, he could not hold a weapon, but still he directed her as best as possible in her physical training. Blinkous was proven knowledgeable in many arts, true, but his expertise lay primarily in book-teaching, not in practical demonstration. Alexandra had advanced steadily to the point where Draal could admit that she was a worthy opponent, but her skill could only be improved by practice and experience through sparring, which Draal excelled at.

And so he spent a highly enjoyable afternoon grappling with the Trollhunter, aiming to teach her further in throwing off a stronger opponent, though he was careful not to strain either his cuts or her still-healing shoulder.

“Don’t look so pleased with yourself,” she echoed, after almost two hours of him tackling her and rubbing as much pungent ointment across her face and armor as he could.

“I do not know what you mean,” Draal replied. “This is training. How can you defeat me if you cannot keep hold of me?”

The Daylight armor had many benefits, but being slip-proof was not one of them, and with his skin covered in oily salves Alexandra could only grab him if she dug her claws in, and he knew that she actively was trying not to hurt him further. Her four arms aided her slightly, but between the two of them Draal had the greater reach and weight and size, and even though grappling pulled on his healing wounds he brightened with the exercise and the chance to teach her how better to survive her acclaimed and horrifically dangerous profession.

“I think this is the part where I can shoot Bular in the other eye,” Alexandra groaned, her face smooshed into Draal’s elbow as he wrenched her leg in the air, holding her away from him before she could kick or elbow him in the gronk-nuks. She slid out of his grasp and then bit him on the way down; he dropped her with a yelp but pinned her by sitting on her legs.

“You cannot totally rely on your weapons - human, troll, or otherwise,” Draal said, trying to grab one of her horns but failing with his slippery fingers; he settled for pulling his elbow under her chin, where the curve of her horns worked to keep his arm in place. Trapped on her stomach, with a greater weight on her lower half and her upper half curved up, she was immobilized, reaching behind her but only able to scrape against him with the tips of her fingers.

“So now what, Trollhunter?” Alexandra growled, wriggling ineffectively.

“You’re the bloody trainer, jackass, you tell me,” she said, scraping again at his knee and the back of his kilt. There was a brief flare of warmth but he knew she wouldn’t use her sun-fire hands, not on him during a brief spar.

She panted for a few moments, trembling in the uncomfortable position. Draal tightened his grip.

“Well, Trollhunter? Bular would have killed you by now.” “Is there anybody around?” Draal looked up, peering carefully into the galleries surrounding the Forge.

“Not that I can see. But if you were to shift, my weight would break your le – “

Draal wasn’t exactly sure how it happened, but in the next instant his arm around her throat lost its hold and he flew backward, the shift in weight enough for her to turn her torso and pull her legs away from him; the world spun briefly but he rolled to his feet, just in time to get kicked in the face. He stumbled back a step and rubbed his jaw with a grin.

“Shifting only your head and chest; a very good trick!” Two hands twirling her sword, the Hunter smiled. She pulled a cloth from her pocket and wiped her hands with it, tossing it to him so that he could do the same.

“Comes in handy sometimes, I’ll admit.” Draal took a staff from the weapons rack and began a set of formal poses, once again gentle enough to take caution of their injuries. He had no desire to have to visit Pottlebot the Pitiless any time in the future. Alexandra mirrored his movements, sword switching between her lower hands. They practiced in a companiable silence, which he had grown to appreciate with her.

For as much as he’d resented her initial appointment to the honored position of Trollhunter, under much duress Draal could admit that he was glad to be Alexandra’s trainer. It took a certain amount of pressure off of him; he no longer lived under the expectation of assuming the mantle of Trollhunter after the fall of his father, and instead he noticed that he was now looked upon and called upon by others for himself – known by his own merit and wanted for his own talents and skills.

The friends he had made in his young adulthood had abandoned him as soon as he had lost the fight with Alexandra, calling for his death in battle as the rest of Trollmarket had. His entire life up until that point had been dedicated to training and making names for himself in order to be worthy of the title of Trollhunter or Trollhunter’s son, and within an instant, it was gone.

But he had not released himself from his banishment by his connection to the Trollhunter, either past or current. His new moniker of ‘Draal the Dedicated’ had been earned, not by his famous connections, but through his own steadfastness and loyalty. He earned his name and he honed his skills now for himself, and for the honor and safety of the people of Trollmarket.

Releasing himself from the weight of his father’s mantle was painful, but it was the pain of new skills learnt and of wounds healing, and though the lack of it felt empty in some ways it was remarkably freeing. He found himself untethered from a lifetime of expectation.

(It hurt in a different way, how this new Trollhunter interacted with him. He knew that she cared for him, that she worried for his safety and cared about his happiness and security – yet she did not distance herself for his sake, as his father had. She watched his back and trusted him to watch hers, and having that trust from someone who had been a relative stranger when Kanjigar himself had pushed Draal away burned like a slow, steady coal in his chest.)

Draal ducked a swipe to his face and countered by aiming at the Trollhunter’s legs. She jumped as best she could and grabbed at him, using one of his horns to swing herself around his back and kick him in the knee. He fell willingly and ducked into a roll; Alexandra did not let go quickly enough to avoid being pulled after him and was dragged along the side, laughing and cursing in the same instant. Draal whacked her with his staff and she head-butt him, probably ignorant (though it was difficult to tell, with her) that such a move was considered a flirt outside of battle.

(Kanjigar didn’t want Alexandra to get close to his son. Too bad, Draal supposed – his father couldn’t have everything he wanted.)

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After their spar, Draal was dragged by the Trollhunter into a successful campaign of avoiding Blinkous for nearly a day and a half, which was more fun than Draal had anticipated, given the older troll’s inconvenient skill in showing up in unexpected places. Blinky was one of the few who ventured Upstairs simply for his own amusement and curiosity, and over the centuries he had become extremely adept at both getting into areas he shouldn’t be in and not getting caught in areas he shouldn’t be in.

Alexandra could not avoid her Trollhunting duties, however, and she and occasionally Draal himself were called to settle several minor disputes and inconveniences. Draal was quite happy to be wanted by his people, and the Trollhunter shined within the minutiae of the occupation, welcoming every instance where she was needed even as they kept on the lookout for Blinky or AAARRRGGHH.

Draal was absolutely unused to sneaking around, so Alexandra framed the game as training, should they ever need to do reconnaissance without being found out. Draal was not made for being unobtrusive, but he was good at moving quietly, so between sparring sessions, various Trollhunting calls, and being forced again to see the healer, he and Alexandra managed to avoid her other trainers with only a few difficulties.

It was kind of funny though, when a good portion of ‘sneaking’ included simply hiding in their rooms and pretending not to be at home. They reasoned that healing was just as important as stealth training, and so spent many hours peacefully unconscious. Often Alexandra read as Draal slept; after their many battles, even a troll as hearty as he needed proper rest. The lack of true activity would have rankled, if the naps weren’t so nice.

On the second morning of their game, Draal lay curled against the wall of his room, the Hunter a heavy warmth in the crux of his knees as she pawed through the books strewn upon the bed.

“At some point you are going to have to talk to Blinkous,” Draal murmured, not even opening his eyes, one arm thrown across his face to block the light coming from the crystal lanterns.

Alexandra huffed, shuffling a scroll some amount of force.

“You are a grown adult.” “Quiet from the peanut gallery,” his friend snapped. “Blinky isn’t threatening you with revealing your most dangerous secret to the leader of Trollmarket, who conveniently has the power to both banish me AND summon a tribunal on my ass. I’ve got enough to deal with without adding the complication of Vendel hating my guts and possibly exposing me to the entirety of Trollmarket, who would also hate my guts, while I’m trying to broker a deal with other Changelings and stop the stupid Bridge from being built for unleashing a cannibalistic Dark Lord.” It was possibly the most words Draal had heard from her in one go, and more open than he was expecting. He realized with a pang that Alexandra was honestly, genuinely frightened. She had found friends, and acceptance, and purpose, and the possibility of it all being taken away scared her.

But Alexandra as he knew her faced fear by cursing in its face, stabbing it as hard as she could, and then setting it on fire for good measure, so what was the difference here? Before he could ask, Alexandra shifted; he looked up to see her rise to a crouch, digging into a pocket of her shorts.

“Shit, that reminds me…” She took from her pocket one of the humans’ cellular devices, a semi-popular snack in Trollmarket. Draal himself liked the ones with the big glass fronts. She tapped it for a moment, and then it lit up, startling Draal with the bright glare.

“AAARRRGGHH was right that we need to get a move on,” she muttered, poking at it and making it flash. Draal had never been one for human technologies; too loud and too small.

Alexandra sat up and, to Draal’s astonishment, began talking to the air.

“Hey! Hey. Hello, I’m, um, what fucking name should I use…” “What in Kanjigar’s name are you doing, Trollhunter?” Draal asked, watching her as she murmured to herself.

“I can’t believe you actually invoke oaths using your father’s name. I’m making up a false identity to contact the Changeling’s leader with. Something-last-name-Hunter. T. Hunter? Miss Hunter? Trudy. Hello, my name’s Trudy Hunter. You know, I think my voice is too…”

The light from the cellphone faded, leaving them once more in the dim crystal-light. Draal watched Alexandra stare at her hands, idly tapping the darkened phone.

“Are you…alright – “ “I need to Change. My voice is rougher like this,” she said, very quietly.

Ah.

“I, erm. Should I…leave?”

She shook her head. Draal lay back, staring at the ceiling but unable to close his eyes completely. After a few tense moments there was another flare of light, and the weight against the back of his legs lessened considerably. The phone brightened again; Draal carefully looked over his chest, seeing only a vague human profile, outlined in light. She raised the cellphone to her face and said, in a bright but somewhat hesitant voice:

“Hello, um, my name’s Trudy Hunter, I’m calling for my uncle Walt? Yes. Yes, Walter Strickler, I’m his niece. No it’s okay, can you just give him my number? I lost my old phone and just wanted to give him my new number, would you mind? Thanks, I really appreciate it. Yeah. Oh, Trudy Hunter. Okay thank you, bye-bye.”

The phone’s light shut off as she deposited it back into her pocket, but she didn’t Change again.

Overcome with curiosity, Draal slowly sat up, shifting his legs until he was seated at her side.

He hadn’t really seen much during their fight with the wendigo, when she’d Changed to lure it into the box. The lighting wasn’t much better here, but he could still see more than before. When he’d moved to face her, she had closed her eyes.

She was forcing herself to stay still, he could tell. Her shoulders and neck were tight, her hands clenched around each other. This was the Alexandra he was growing accustomed to; allowing the fear to reach out to her, and not flinching at its face.

Brown eyes flared open when the back of his knuckles touched her temple, glaring at him even as her hands trembled minutely. A pulse of blue shone from her pocket; the amulet, reacting to her stress. The air in the room felt still and heavy, and the flesh of her cheek felt warm and soft.

Draal drew back momentarily before running a finger over the shortened hairs on her brow, careful not to poke her in the eye, glancing at her ears. They were just a bit pointed, one of the several more trollish characteristics he could notice, if he squinted.

The scar took center-stage, running across her human face as it did her trollish one, cutting over her left eye and leaving a white streak through the cornea, the pupil stained a milky grey. It was such a distinctive feature but still, he would have recognized her without it.

The tip of his finger made its way down to her jaw, almost of its own accord. Here the bone felt thicker; if she opened her mouth, would her teeth be larger, sharper? Her nose was off-center, the bridge crooked. Nomura’s face had been almost pristine; smooth and polished, not a hair out of place. Alexandra looked almost trollish while human, for reasons he could not fathom and was not going to ask.

The tiny hint of a pulse fluttered, quick and hard, through his fingertip as it hovered on the edge of her throat.

There was an impulse, brief but hot, to let his hand run down farther, to examine the differences between Nomura’s delicate, angular figure and Alexandra’s broad, hard frame. He caught himself; he was unsure, truly uncertain, whether he would prefer Alexandra to stop his hand or let him wander. The palm of his hand ached slightly, fingers wanting to uncurl and feel how much softer her hair was like this.

The pounding of fists upon the door startled both of them badly; Draal’s legs jerked and Alexandra flew to her feet, amulet in hand, before either of them realized what the noise was. Most unfortunately, their actions upset the pile of books on the bed, which fell to the floor loudly enough to alert their visitor.

“I know you are in there, you blasted woman, open this door! This is ridiculous!” Alexandra pounced on Draal the moment he made to reply, throwing her hands across his mouth as she knelt on his chest.

Honestly, the game was beginning to get a little silly, but there was remarkably little that Draal felt he could do suddenly; still human-shaped, Alexandra had pushed him backward with her knees on either side of his chest, having to lay most of her torso across his neck and chin to cover his mouth. Her bandaged hands felt impossibly tiny on his face, and this close he could feel her breathing.

It was absurd; they’d certainly grappled before, and in tighter and more compromising positions than this – but it had been a very long time since he’d felt the warmth of a human body against his, and he was somewhat transfixed on the tickle of hair against his cheek and the quiver of muscle as she pressed down.

Blinky pounded the door again with all four fists, shouting more and more obscure curses to the heavy wood. Alexandra began to giggle into her fist.

Blinky continued in this vein for a solid five minutes, cursing the Hunter’s parentage, hygiene, and moral fiber. On impulse Draal slid a hand over Alexandra’s shortened torso and flipped over, as if to hide the Trollhunter beneath him. The weight only caused her to giggle harder, tears forming at the corners of her eyes in the struggle not to make noise.

Blinky finally gave up with a yell and stomped off, and Draal let Alexandra escape from underneath him and Change back to her trollish body with only a small pang of regret.

They spent the rest of the day in his rooms, studying and napping alternately, quietly discussing small bits of trollish history or culture that Alexandra hadn’t learned yet and comparing them to things the Hunter had experienced in her centuries Upstairs. Neither of them seemed to want to leave the room.

It was as if the Change from that morning had flipped a switch. Alexandra had revealed herself fully, finally, and when nothing bad had happened to her something gave, a previously unseen tension fading from every cell in her body.

The Changeling leader, Strickler, answered her summons later in the evening with a ‘text message’, asking for assurances and promises. Alexandra sent him a photograph and a pointed message, arranging to meet with him in three days’ passing.

Business settled and trainers successfully avoided for a second day, they both settled down for another well-deserved nap. Draal decided not to examine the warmth that curled in his chest when the Trollhunter nested down beside him, and determinately dropped off to sleep.

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Their game ended on morning of the third day, when Alexandra finally bucked up and allowed Draal to drag her to the Forge again, the lack of true activity finally wearing on him. Beginning with a spar, Draal relished in the stretch and burn under his skin, throwing himself into the lesson with great enthusiasm.

After their spar he began to demonstrate defense against different types of weapons, having himself an absolutely wonderful time hitting the Trollhunter with every spear, mace, and pole-axe that he could get his hand on. It was even more fun when the Trollhunter managed to disarm him and hit him with it back.

After three days of not doing much physical training Draal had Alexandra run the most difficult drills he could think of, and watched with great pleasure as she sped through all of them, stumbling only minimally when forced to use her lower two arms. She was becoming quite a match for him in battle, and her fighting style was dirty as gnome-shit, enough so that he was learning a trick or two himself.

Their rest period had also allowed their injuries to heal nearly to completion, with the only exception being Alexandra’s palms, which still cracked and seemed somewhat painful. The long, fresh scars that raked across Draal’s chest ached as he stretched and lunged but it was a good pain, of new flesh knitting together and becoming whole, soon to become just another stitch in the tapestry of his life.

They gained watchers in the mid-morning, a few trolls who settled into the balconies for entertainment. Someone had evidently informed Blinky and AAARRRGGHH of their reappearance because both trolls peeked in through one of the side entrances after a while, the shorter of the two throwing up his arms when Alexandra pretended to have no idea what ‘puerile game of avoidance’ Blinky was yelling at her about. In respect to their audience he lowered his voice as they stepped into the arena.

“Am I to take it, then, that you are finally ready to continue our discussion?”

Alexandra spun away from Draal when he aimed a spear-head at her torso, countering it with a smack from her own blade.

“I’ve already contacted Stricklander. We’re meeting this weekend.” “I was under the impression that you were not ready to meet with him unless you had something ‘concrete’ to offer. Has your position changed, then, about – “ “No.”

Draal stepped back when she swiped at him, ducking into a backward roll to avoid losing balance when Alex continued to advance.

“I’m not going to offer anything, I’m going to ask him what he wants. What he expects and what he demands will be the basis of our offers; we may believe that he’ll be swayed by amnesty but Strickler always has contingency plans. He may actually need something entirely different. I won’t play our hand without seeing his first.”

Blinkous actually seemed somewhat mollified by that suggestion. AAARRRGGHH nodded in agreement, and after exchanging a glance Blinky crossed his arms and stepped back.

“A worthwhile plan, Master Alexandra,” he said. “And…the other issue?”

Alexandra slowed, clenching her fist against her thigh. Draal pretended to examine the point of his spear as she deliberated.

“…I know we don’t have time, but just…hold off,” she said, quietly. “I know something has to be done. Just give me time.”

Blinky didn’t have anything to say after that. He and AAARRRGGHH settled themselves on the side of the arena, quietly talking as Draal and Alexandra continued their training.

After a while, the watchers began making themselves useful by shouting moves and defense sets for Drall and Alexandra to practice. Bringing staff and sword together, Draal started to demonstrate a complex movement that would relieve an opponent of their weapon, only to be interrupted by a call much more jarring than the rest.

“Trollhunter!”

Everything paused – Alexandra actually froze in place – when Vendel slowly stomped into the Forge, a tiny whelp clinging to one shoulder.

Draal lowered his spear and Alexandra mirrored him, both watching silently until Vendel crossed the floor.

“You are needed, Trollhunter,” he said softly. The bright orange whelp on his shoulder looked out with one eye. Draal vaguely recognized it, but wasn’t familiar with the child.

Vendel stopped, grabbed the whelp by its flame-colored scruff, and dangled it out to Alexandra until she banished her armor and took it. “Um.”

“Jaela has passed,” Vendel rumbled. “Sellah’s current guardians are not willing to take on a whelp full-time. Her father’s father lives in the Chimeria Heartstone. Get to it.”

Draal watched as Alexandra, who had more or less ignored everything Vendel said the minute the child was plopped in her hands, began to panic.

“Wait. Wait, Vendel, what? Her guardians can’t just – “ “They are temporary, Trollhunter,” Vendel said, pausing only briefly as he walked away. “They were friends of her parents, but are not under obligation to keep the child if they do not so wish. I have contacted her grandfather and he and his clan are willing to have her. What would you like me to do, send her on the gyre by herself?” The Trollhunter shuffled the tiny whelp a bit, letting her climb her face until the silent child was settled between her left horn and her cheek, a thin, snake-like tail curling around the horn.

“And you can’t take her yourself?”

Vendel harrumphed and said no more. They watched his retreating back until he was gone.

The whelp, apparently familiar with Alexandra, looked around with dazed curiosity. Alexandra seemed to be debating with herself, her lower jaw twitching in a tic that she had not expressed in months.

Across the Forge, AAARRRGGHH gently nudged his friend; Blinky looked up at him in confusion until AAARRRGGHH nodded at the Trollhunter, arching a brow. Blinky’s eyes widened and he stepped forward with a cough.

“Er, Master Alexandra, if you would prefer, AAARRRGGHH and I would certainly be more than willing to – “ “No,” Alexandra said, taking a step back. A hand automatically went up to balance the whelp before she fell from the sudden movement. She shifted and began to rock slowly, gently petting the whelp’s head as it buried into her shoulder. Draal watched in open amazement; he had never seen the Trollhunter look so unguarded, her movements instinctual and uncalculated. It was a different gentleness than how she was with her cats, or with himself, when it was late and quiet.

“Sellah can stay with me until tomorrow, my hands should be completely fine with one last session. Then we’ll take the gyre to Lake Havasu in the morning. The Chimeria Heartstone is in Turkey, if I remember right?”

“It is, Master Alexandra. If you would prefer to take the whelp yourself then I see no issue, but I would ask that AAARRRGGHH and myself still accompany you.” “Hate gyre,” murmured AAARRRGGHH under his breath.

“I will remain to look after Trollmarket,” said Draal hastily, glad to be the one left behind. He didn’t have anything against whelps, specifically – he just wasn’t particularly familiar with them. The first and last Trollhunting adventure he’d been on had seen him nearly cleaved in two by a wendigo; staying at home would guarantee an avoidance of undead demons and babies alike. Probably.

Alexandra seemed content enough with that, promptly leaving all of them behind as she gently carried the whelp away. Draal could hear her murmuring assurances as she cross the bridge toward Trollmarket.

Blinky came up beside him as he began replacing the weapons they had sparred with.

“She contacted the Changeling leader? Truly?”

Draal nodded assent, rolling his shoulders as the three of them began to leave together.

“Yes, with a ‘text message’. She also sent him a photograph of a rude hand gesture.” “...She gets cellular service down here? No, nevermind,” Blinky said when Draal looked confused. “It’s enough that contact has been made and the ball rolling, as the saying goes. We will deal with this once our current mission is complete. Draal, if you’ll excuse us…” With a friendly wave from AAARRRGGHH the pair departed, leaving Draal in the middle of Trollmarket, hungry from his exertions and desperately hoping that Alexandra was taking the whelp back to her own rooms. Not needed for anything and left to his own devices, he quickly scurried up some lunch and began making his rounds among his people, until had someone had need for Draal the Dedicated.

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A/N: Look, I don’t know where the Alex-and-Draal scene came from, it just spouted forth with no previous thought and my hands were compelled to type it. Under no circumstances am I ever going to write a sex scene in this fic, simply because I don’t want to give that much thought into troll anatomy, so don’t hold out for more than the La Croix of lemon-flavored content.

This chapter and the next were originally stacked into one big mega-chapter but the events and perspectives were beginning to get a bit wobbly so I split them up. I’ve never written in Draal’s voice before so I hope it was okay. It ended kind of quickly but honestly I just needed to stop staring at the damn thing so HERE. Next chapter is ¾ written already and should be posted soon enough, with any luck.

Anyway, finally my girl loosens up a bit! Only took her the length of a small novel, but she’s going to get there! And I get to mess with Strickler a bit, we’ll see the results of that next chapter.

I got through these chapters by using the trick of changing the font to Comic Sans, which works very well as a writing motivator, if only so that I can hurry up and get rid of this terrible, horrible font. I used to be neutral about Comic Sans but after staring at fifteen-hundred words of it, it’s every bit as awful as the memes describe.

#trollhunters #fanfic #what falls and what grows #draal

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