#ALBEIT WHILE STILL GETTING INJURED BUT AT LEAST HE’S ALIVE

[qkmlh]

Funny as hell that Miguel threw hands with a 15 year old and still got his and everybody’s ass beat and embarrassed

[chronicbeans]

Romantic Yandere Lucifer x Reader Headcanons

I've been tossing this idea around in my brain for days lol.

TW: Yandere Behavior, Obsessive and Possessive Thoughts, Panic and Anxiety, Depression, Blood and Injuries, Denial, Overprotective Behavior

• When he first met you, it was when he visited the Hazbin Hotel upon Charlie's request. You were sitting at the table with the rest of the staff and guests, acting the most... Well, normal out of all of them, besides Husk. You smiles and waved his way once Charlie mentioned your name.

• It wasn't like those fairy tales, where it is love at first sight. No, he had to talk to you, of course. After everybody else introduced themselves to him, you walk over to him, shake his hand, and introduce yourself. "Hello, your majesty! My name's (Y/N)! It's nice to meet you!" That's when he falls for you. Throughout the small conversation you both have, you treat him like... well, a normal person. Or, at least, as normal as you can treat the King of Hell, himself.

• The moment he leaves and returns home, he feels extremely guilty for falling for you. Especially since it was so quick, and for such a simple reason. He barely knows you! Why can't he stop thinking about you? He silently vows to never go back to the hotel, not because he doesn't support Charlie, but because he's scared of falling for you even more. However... Calling Charlie and asking about the Hazbin Hotel doesn't sound too bad, yes?

• Soon, asking about the hotel turns to asking about the people there... which, in turn, means asking about you. How have you been doing? Have you shown any interest in the activities and workshops at the hotel? What interests do you have. Of course, Lucifer asks the same questions about everybody else, to not seem suspicious, but he's mostly just interested in you...

• He only falls even more as he hears about you. Lucifer hates himself for it. So, he begins to distance himself, again. He goes back to making his rubber ducks, trying to distract himself from his thoughts about you. However, over time, his ducks slowly began having features that remind him of you. You like drawing? Duckie with a pencil and paper. Singing? Duckie that plays music. His mind can't escape you.

• Once the exterminators show, and the fight with Adam commences, he sees you again. Not in the best condition, either. The dust settles, Niffty absolutely brutalizes Adam, and now everybody is looking for you and Alastor. As Lucifer wanders the area in a frantic search for you, he happens to notice a battered hand sticking out from underneath some rubble. Moving it out of the way, he's now in a panic as he realizes it's you. You're alive, thankfully, albeit heavily injured and hanging on by a thread. That, and passed out.

• The next few minutes are spent with him becoming way too protective over you, holding you in his arms and becoming extremely defensive. His obsessive crush has finally reached more twisted levels, and he's mortified by the thought of letting you out of his sight. Even Charlie is starting to catch on that something is not quite... right about her dad. He's holding you tightly and not letting anybody come near you, despite the fact that you clearly need help. Then again, his angelic powers could probably be used to help you heal, but the point still stands. The only person who's allowed to come close is Charlie, and even then, he's keeping a close eye.

• He's now by your side constantly while you're recovering. He almost lost you! It's a very sudden change in his behavior, considering how he bottled up all of his feelings for you for so long... Nobody even knew he cared about you in specific, much less this much. Whenever you wake up in your bed, staring at the hotel, he's the first person you see. Whenever you fall asleep, he's the last thing you see. He's there throughout the entirety of the day, acting much more like your caregiver than your friend's dad. Bringing you food, getting you water, getting you some blankets and pillows... He's even taking care of changing your bloodied bandages out for new ones.

• At first, you just assumed that he was worried and wanted to help you recover. It'd make sense. You almost died, after all. The behavior doesn't stop after you're fully recovered, though... in fact, it gets worse, somehow. He makes sure that you aren't in danger, be it real or perceived. Somebody who he doesn't know talking to you is just as big of a threat in his eyes as somebody pointing a gun at your face. He's immediately standing by your side, glaring the stranger down.

• He may not be that intimidating, but he's the King of Hell. Many people know how strong he is, even if they don't find him to actually be intimidating to look at. So, they back off, usually. Those who don't get a brief look at his demon form, before getting knocked out. No, no... He doesn't kill them. He can't kill anybody when you are around. He'll wait until later.

• He's a yandere that would never cross any physical boundaries with you. He's spent years isolating himself from people, so as sad as it is to say, he's pretty used to not getting any sort of affection. He doesn't need compliments, hugs, or cuddles ( at least, that's what he tells himself). However, if and when you start showing affection towards him, he's going to need it constantly. He needs reassurance, comfort, a shoulder to cry on, somebody to give affection to... And you are now the only person he feels he's able to do so, with.

• He's going to want to own your soul, so be on the lookout for any tricks he might pull. Well, it's more correct to say he doesn't want to own your soul, but feels like he must. He doesn't like the idea of being in a relationship with such an intense power dynamic, but he's so frightened by the idea that Heaven might take you away, that he feels that he simply must own your soul. He feels that, if he does, it's less likely you'd even be able to go to Heaven, since you're technically owned by him. And he knows he's never going up. Even you just mentioning Heaven throws him into a panic... Don't say that word, alright?

[alientee]

hi! just read your ‘To Live’ Mauga x Reader and absolutely loved it, and kinda had a request sort of along the same lines as that one (that is only if you’re taking requests ofc)

So like, say Mauga’s away on Talon work and what-not, but while he’s away Reader’s home/general area gets attacked (maybe a null sector ship crashes or smth?) and like Reader does get injured and kinda bleeds a slightly worrying amount but nothing a health pack and some rest won’t fix really, so they manage to go get medical help. So Mauga obviously finds out, rushes back from his mission, and seeing the worrying amount of blood staining the ruins of the reader’s home has him all worried the worst happened. So he spends practically a full day digging around the ruins of the house, panic just slowly building as he searches, and by sunrise he just has nearly given up; sitting in the rubble somewhere between pure despair and unbridled rage towards himself, when he hears reader call his name, and surprise, reader is alive and well, standing right outside the ruins of the house, albeit with a few bandages. Then bam! Fluff.

Didn’t realize this was gonna be this long but thanks for reading this pitch anyways 👍

Another Mauga x reader

This is so cute so of course I had to write it ! Thank you for asking for this I’ll answer a request if I have time and or if it’s in my comfort zone and I wrote this the day you sent it I was that excited I hope you enjoy! (SIDE NOTE I HAVE SO MUCH SMUT COMING FOR MAUGA YALL) gender neutral reader x Mauga

You sat on the couch, watching a horror movie, waiting for Mauga to get home. You learned not to worry too much about him going on missions with Talon; that man lives for the thrill.

You go to the kitchen to get some snacks. Sometimes you did get lonely when he left for a mission, but the chaotic life wasn’t for you. And just as you got your food alarms, start blaring from the outside.

You quickly set everything down and go to your window. You look out into the sky. You couldn’t help the anxiety that filled you. “it’s null sector."

Explosions rang outside while you ran up the stairs, hoping nothing hit your house. You should’ve known you wouldn’t be so lucky. As the explosions get louder, your house starts to shake. That’s when it all came crumbling down, and so did you.

“OUCH FUCK!”

You could feel your muscles ache and a sting in your ankle; you knew the feeling all too well; your eyesight was distorted, and you felt dizzy. But you couldn’t dwell on that, you had fell from the now broken stairs and sprained your ankle. And as more of your home crumbles so does your way out. Everything seemed to be blocked off except your broken window.

The small space would be difficult to go through, but you didn’t have a choice. You push yourself through the window. That’s when you feel searing, hot pain shoot through you. You begin to scream. “FUCKING FUDGE NUTS”

You didn’t realize there was some glass still around the edges of the window, but you couldn’t stop now. With one hard push, you fall out of the window, gripping your side in pain. And just as you got out of the house, it completely came down. There’s a large glass shard in your side. You slowly pull it out, screaming in anguish. You look at the rest of the village, realizing that they are fighting back and null sector is retreating. You let out a sigh of relief. It was kind of annoying that your house had to fall, but at least now you were safe and you didn’t have to worry about it.

"Now let’s see if I can limp to the medical center.”

Mauga had a good day. He used Chacha and Gunny, caused some chaos, and he got paid. What more could he ask for? He was cleaning his guns when Sombra came up to him.

"It looks like null sector strikes again. The boss might have us go pick up some of their tech for data. Try not to cause too much of a mess if we do."Mauga looks at her, amused by the statement. "Come on, Somb you know me, what’s the fun in that?”

Sombra rolled her eyes. “I’m serious, Mauga, plus you wouldn’t want to cause trouble on your own stomping grounds, would you?"

“What are you talking about!?”

Sombra looked at him guilty. "Yeah, I probably should’ve started with Somoa getting attacked.”

Before she could say anything else, he was out of the room, guns in hand.

Mauga made it back to Somoa as quickly as he could. The whole island wasn’t damaged, but there was enough damage to know the clean-up would take a long time. Mauga rushes to your home, hoping you were okay. You had to be okay. When he got to your home, he dropped his guns to the ground.

Where was your home? Nothing but rubble lay in the distance. He walked towards the house; he didn't even realize he ended up running by the time he got to the wreckage.

“Y/N!!!!” He screamed your name. Mauga knew that when he didn’t get an answer, he had to move.

“They’re ok; they gotta be ok." Mauga nodded to himself. He knew you were a fighter, and you were smart. There’s no way you’d just lay down and die. He dug through the rubble of the house. He went through every single part of it he could move. And what he couldn’t pick up, he tried to dig under with his bare hands.

Hours and hours he spent moving rubble bricks and broken glass. His hands were covered in cuts and slightly rubbed raw from all the material he was trying to drag. The hours of the night ended up being until dawn.

“I’m such a fucking idiot,” Mauga couldn’t help but feel like shit. All the times you asked him to take a day off to spend time with him. All the times you told him you were lonely. All the time you worried for him. Every hug he got lasted more than a minute because he was gone so long. He always told you that no matter what, he’d protect you because he’s strong enough to win every time. He couldn’t always be there to save you, so you had to be strong too.

“A fucking joke,” he said, picking up a large piece of what was the door and flinging it.

“PIECE OF FUCKING SHIT” Mauga feels so much rage and so much sadness that he’s started throwing things everywhere. Not even caring, he threw his own guns. “I can’t protect shit! I couldn’t back up a fucking thing I said to them. I’m such a fucking joke! I couldn't even stay for em………they’re gone…… I couldn’t even fucking …….they can’t be…. they fucking can’t be gone.”

Mauga falls to his knees, not caring that his body has given out, that his hands are slightly bleeding, or that he flung his guns to God knows where. “The fuck am I going to do?” He puts his head in his hands. The stress is getting to him, and he can’t get it together.

“Mauga ! Your back!"

Mauga looks up, and he can’t believe what he’s seeing. There you are, covered in bandages, limping towards him. He slowly stands up, but he runs towards you like he’s going to tackle you. And he kind of does; he holds you in his arms tightly, bringing your face to his chest. He didn’t realize he was squeezing your wound.

"Ow! Mauga, I’m injured!”

He quickly lets you go but catches you before you completely drop to the floor.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” He rubs your arms, putting his forehead against yours. “I…. I thought you were gone, baby…. I thought I lost you." His voice was raspy from screaming so much earlier, louder than he’s ever screamed, and that’s saying something for someone as loud as him. You wrapped your arms around him, snuggling into his chest, and you listened to his two heartbeats that sounded out of control.

“I’m ok; I’m here; it’s fine.” You try consoling him.

“When everything fell down, I got out but got glass stuck in my side, and I sprained my ankle. But I was strong, just like you said I had to be, haha." He smiled and picked you up, princess-style, leaning in to kiss your forehead.

“I’m so proud of you, baby,” he leans in, giving you a soft, passionate kiss, tangling his hand in your hair, and bringing you in as close as he can. He leans back from the kiss, rubbing your cheek with his knuckles and staring into your eyes, looking at you like he’d lose you if he looked away.

“Let’s get you somewhere safe, ok? Get you cleaned up and fed,” he pecks your lips. You nod at him, leaning your head into his neck and slightly tracing his tattoos. You were happy to be in his arms again. Mauga ended up bringing you back to his place, which was surprisingly untouched.

He takes off your clothes and carries you to the tub. He’s about to move to help you bathe, but you stop him. "Mauga, what happened to your hands, honey?" He looks down, his hands covered in cuts and dried blood. "I just got carried away. I’m fine.”

You gave him a look. "No, you're going to go get your hands looked at.”

He looked at you angrily, giving you a snarl. “I’m not leaving you!”

You lean back, not expecting him to get so angry. “Mauga I’m ok now; you’re here on the island with me. I’m not afraid, and you shouldn’t be either. If they come back, I know I’m the safest I could ever be because you're near."

Mauga sighs. He should’ve expected that. Even though he blames himself, he knows you don’t. And all he wants to do right now is make you happy. So he went to get his hands looked at. He won’t tell you he ran to the infirmary and ran all the way back, though.

When he made it back, Mauga caught you trying to cook. He quickly made his way over, scooping you up and dumping you on the couch. He propped your sprained ankle up and kissed your cheek. "Nope, I got it.” The rest of the day, Mauga took care of you. Getting salt water for your ankle and fixing all your meals. Helping you fix your hair.

He was so sweet, even though you knew he still felt guilty. You end the day cuddling in bed. You were in Maugas lap while he played in your hair, his other hand intertwined with yours. You lay against his chest, listening to his two heartbeats. He couldn’t help but smirk at the concentrated look on your face.

“What’s on your mind, beautiful?"

You look at Mauga, wanting to show him you are serious. “I don’t want you to feel bad about what happened. You couldn’t have known this would happen.”

"It doesn't matter; it’s my job to take care of you. You're mine, and I told you I’d always win for you and that I’d never let you get hurt.”

“You also told me to be strong because you always won’t be there, and you were right, and I pushed through because of it!”

He does not want to admit it, but he can’t help but give in, even if you were right and they were his own words. It stings to hear them in the moment. He wants to protect you from everything; he wants to be your rock and your hero. Even though he knows it’s impossible to be that every time.

Mauga hums in agreement, and he slightly leans his body onto you. It’s comforting to have his heavy weight pressing on you. His large, strong hands are on your body, making you feel so safe and protected. His gentle kisses and affection show you how much he means it; he’ll make sure you're taken care of no matter what. Being wrapped in his large arms puts comfort in your heart.

Mauga kisses your nose. “How about I take a break from missions? We can spend some time together on another island, just you and me, sugar.”

You smile, kissing him back softly. “Alright, just you and me.”



[goat-guy-tm]

Welcome to ANOTHER "Goat tries to write something small about void's rewrite but it turns into something terrifyingly long for no reason" post.

This is basically a fic talking about Kul'Zak (Modzilla) and Irene (Aphma)'s relationship, I am still gonna do the mini fic series going into MORE detail, but this thing....yeah

The divine are messy to say the least in my rewrite, but one of the messiest is Kul'Zak, which I will give small pre-needed context; in my rewrite world Kul'Zak does not (technically) have a decendent or reincarnation because Kul'Zak is still alive, he is actually Professor Modzilla from MMW/VP.

He was just a dimension hopping guy trying to have some fun only to hop into the Overworld (what I call the MCD dimension as it has no set canon name) during what is going to be one of the most turbulent times in their history for the next eon.

One day, some hunters from Scaleswind rush back into town, stating they had found an injured man in the woods, screaming and withering on the ground. They said he looked burnt, and badly. As if his body had been chared.

Being one of the sisters best versed in healing magicks, Irene had demanded they show her this man. It happened to be none other than Monty, but, at the time Irene was none the wiser to the man's name.

She had slammed healing spell after healing spell into the man, but none of them seemed to work, only seeming to for a small time alleviate the man's suffering.

At first, Monty had been, albeit weakly, fighting back the hunters and Irene, but for only a moment. Until he realized what the woman was trying to do. He couldn't stay fully still, but he tried to let her help him, the pain was just so much though.

He knew his face was badly burned, he couldn't open his left eye at all, it could be burned shut.

They had carried him back to the town, Irene scolding the men everytime Monty would groan or whine in pain.

He was placed in a room in the temple Irene was a sister to, mainly so Irene could try and look over him and help him heal.

Covering the burns didn't seem to help either. When wrapping a guaze over them, the bandaging stayed for a moment, before they burned and sizzled away into a purple mist of kinds.

Even though many of the other sisters told her they would be willing to take care of him every so often, as they did commonly take turns tending to the injured that resided in the temple, Irene had denined it, becoming somewhat fixated on figuring out who this man was and what was happening to him.

Monty had been in and out of consiousness for a few days, feverish and skittish anytime Irene tried to communicate to him.

Quite quickly it became obvious that there was a language barrier. Irene tried to make some kind of system, a series of taps for different things and needs Monty would have.

For a while, the sisters of the temple only refered to him as "The Stranger", which Irene didn't like. Everytime she had tried to ask the man his name, he would only look at her confused, which she put to his state of sickness and confusion.

So, Irene came up with a name for him. At least for the others to refer to him as, until she could get his real name out of him.

Now, she would not admit it to anyone else but Monty some time later, but naming him Kul'Zak was not entirely original from her mind. At the time, a romance novel had been getting quite popular, and one of the love intrests, Irene's personal favorite, was named Kul'Zak.

So when asked what his name was, Irene had rushed out that it was Kul'Zak. She was embarassed about it, and of course a few of the sisters she was closer with teased her over it, saying how convient his name was the same as her favorite fictional man.

After a few months, Kul'Zak had finally become more, aware. He had started to slowly piece some words together, out right asking Irene for water, in Ru'aunian, one day. Of course not fully asking, more so just saying "water" in a questioning tone. Irene had been admitingly very excited the first time he did, full on cheering.

She had been spending most her time with Kul'Zak, tending to the burn or more so researching it. Whether it be feeling how hot it was, as it seemed to generate it's own heat nearly 24/7, ot seeing what healing spells would affect it, if at all.

Thankfully, the burn was only on his face, and well a bit of his hand. It was more scattered on his hand, but he still seemed to express a discomfort with it, seething and pulling his hand away if she held it too hard or for too long.

After some time, they had sat down together and Irene tried to teach him Ru'aunian. He was picking it up quickly, but it was still a treck, especially because there was no way for Irene to figure out what his own language was.

When he was able to hold a conversation with her, she was estatic. She would take him outside the temple, walk around Scales Wind, and they would just, talk.

With this, she would learn his name was actually Monty, and when she asked if he'd loke her to tell others, he told her that it was fine. Kul'Zak fit their culture better, and with his status as a other-realmer, he'd rather not cause a rukus of any kind.

Their talks were about anything. Kul'Zak's life as a dimension explorer, Irene's life as a sister of their temple. Anything and everything.

She had asked him when he would be going back to his own dimension, and Kul'Zak only seethed, and said he couldn't go back, at least not for a while. The burns he was suffering from meant he shouldn't, not until he was finally healed. That coming here had put him in danger, and he was lucky he was still alive.

Void burns, is what he called them. One day, he had sat Irene down and went through the books he had held in his bag, that now Irene could finally understand with him translating to her.

Apparently, void burns were something anyone could suffer from, if they dimension hopped in an unsafe manner. And dimension exploring was still considered unsafe, but, he had wanted to do something big. To be one of the special members of his community to find a new dimension.

Irene had gotten him books upon books, journals, theological texts, mythology and folk lore, and even blank journals for him to write in. She loved watching him read, taking notes and writing what he called official dimensional writings.

Not many Irene believers knew of her life before her stint as a hero, hell 90% of books barley ever mentioned her life as a sisster of a now forfotten temple for a god no long known in Ru'aun. Because of this, people also never saw the relationship between Irene and Kul'Zak.

After some years, the two became much closer, Irene only really leaving Scales Wind after a time to accompany Kul'Zak on his adventure of exploring the realm.

The two had been deeply in love, yet according to the texts written of them years later, they were barley even more than just fellow Divine.

When she had decided to finally lay to rest, she entrusted half her relic to Kul'Zak, asking him to shatter it and spread it across the realms, to take her with him on those realm discovery adventures he had told her all about.

Modzilla was never truly a religous man. Ironic for a man that was basically a god. His adoration for Aphmau made him sick. She wasn't Irene, he felt like it would be overstepping to put himself in her life. Even though it's what Irene had asked of him.

He knew Irene, in her later years, had regretted acending to what they had become. He wanted Aphmau to be as normal as she could be.

When she put herself into his life though, even when he thought he had ran far enough away, he didn't know what to do. Especially when Tommy started to adore her, to see her as a mother.

Modzilla was, embarassed and ashamed of how much he had cried that night. He was admitingly cold to her at first. Only 'tolerating' her for Tommy's sake.

She became his lab partner, exploring dimensions for him when he was too sick or weak feeling to. Or tired. She paid attention to his health, so meticulously. It made him want to hurl. He kept telling himself she's not Irene, don't associate her with her.

After all nighters he would wake up with blankets over his shoulders, cups of hot coffee set out for him, even breakfast or lunch on a good day.

One morning, he woke up to a very special breakfast. A dish he had learned of his first few years in Ru'aun, that Irene had adored. Aphmau had told him she found it in one of those cook books, and that it was so well cared for so she assumed he liked it.

He wanted to cry over it, but he had just sighed and asked Aphmau to leave, that they weren't doing any tests today. A few hours later that day, Tommy had come to Aphmau's house and said his father had locked himself in his study and wouldn't be coming out, so he wanted to sleep at her's for the night.

On his bad days, Modzilla would lock himself in his study for, days, maybe even weeks depending how much of a spiral he would go down, where he would read and reread all the journals he had wrote decades ago.

During one of these spirals, he had left his study to go for a walk of sorts, and during that, Aphmau had snuck into his study and went through said journals strewn across the room.

She had been slack jawed at the whole journals full of passages of love, the descriptions of a woman named Irene. The name seemed to strike something in her in a way she couldn't explain.

Some of the pages had drawings of this woman instead of writing. She was, beautiful. Aphmau toom a moment, looking at this woman, till she realized she looked like her. Albeit a little different. Her hair was longer, she wore a hair covering that was longer than the more tied up one Aphmau wore, her clothing in most of the drawings was flowey and white.

Aphmau recalled pictures Modzilla had shared of Polly, she had a similar head covering and flowy clothing, but Polly was white and had blond hair. Irene, as she could see, had tanned skin and black hair. Plus, there were no photos of her, just drawings, some messily colored with dyes and patterned with stamped in flowers.

The journals were so well cared for. More so than the other books and texts Modzilla had in his library section. Aphmau started to feel, bad for looking at this without his permission.

When she intended to leave, she turned and was startled by Modzilla standing in the doorway, eyes locked on the journal she had in her hands. She didn't plan on taking it with her, she just hadn't put it down yet.

Modzilla looked, tired and sick, plus uncomfortable with the new information that Aphmau had been reading his journals.

The conversation was, like walking on eggshells. She asked about Irene, who the woman was, that if Modzilla was so infactuated by her, why was he married to Polly, a woman who seemed so close to this Irene figure.

Modzilla had shakily explained that him and Polly weren't married for love. They were very good friends, but it was common for his kind to not marry for love most the time. He told her about Irene. How happy they were together before their time as divine, explaining to her how Irene had asked to be reincarnated outside the realm she was born of, how Aphmau was one of those.

Then, he broke down. He sobbed and apologized to her, that he wanted her to go her whole life without knowing about it. That he thought that's what Irene would have wanted; to live a life of normalcy, save for the dimension exploring.

She knew now why Monty had become so choked up and emotional when she would try and take care of him when he was sick or tired. That she was unknowingly reminding him of the first times he ever met the woman he would come to love for the rest of his immortal life.

Aphmau wasn't all that young herself, she was already over 100 years old, but, most the time she chose not to disclose that to others. She herself had been overly puzzled by her lack of memories of a childhood, now knowing she never had one in the first place, but then even more confused by her not aging, and living so long already. She knew now why. Monty was obviously still older than her, and she would not be stopping the teasing of him for it.

She came to enjoy the dimension exploring just a little bit more. Sometimes she would find herself talking to no one, as if she was talking to 'Irene', even though she technically was Irene. Unbeknownst to her, she was one of the few Aphmau's to accept the idea so easily and fully. Knowing that she was living a life a her from before craved made her more happy for what Irene had done to give it to her.

Her and Monty's relationship had changed after what she learned. They seemed to flow better now, Monty having put down the wall he had built so long ago, at least a little bit.

When they had finally found Monty's home realm again, Aphmau had cheered for him, so excited he could finally go home. He was happy too, but bitter sweet about it. They hugged, and Aphmau gave him a kiss, which had stunned Monty in his place, face burning red and stuttering.

Aphmau promised to keep Tommy safe, and told Monty that he had to find a way to visit sometime.

Monty left Tommy in the care of Aphmau. He knew she would take care of him better than he ever could.

If fate wasn't so cruel, they could have a redo, but Monty knew that that was a pipe dream.

The void still called, it hungered, and Monty, Kul'Zak, Modzilla, whoever he was, he was going to do everything in his power to keep that thing at bay, to keep the realms safe, and if it meant being burned by it time and time again, he knew he had at least someone he would go to that would be his boulder to rest with. Just like she had all those eons ago.

[octahedral-chaos]

Binary Stars' Impact: AKA have a random drabble based on a Worldless × Genshin Crossover Idea I had.

@arandompeep this is based off our conversation we had... and I had to write a little thingy based on this, so I hope you enjoy!

She's still alive?

Disoriented, Edda glanced around, noting how... bright this place was. Even if it was somewhat dark, she could still tell that it was much more colourful than all the places she's been to. She also noticed that there was no eye watching from above, were They dead? How long has it been both her and Aven's battle with that god? Instead, she noticed a small, silver crescent-shaped thing in the sky.

She got up, still a bit disoriented and looked around, she seemed to be in some sort of field near a cliff, with a giant tree directly in front of said cliff. This... didn't really looked like any place she knew, and the last thing she remembered was fighting They with Aven. Wait...

Aven! Where was he? She remembered watching him sacrificing himself to save her, yet she still couldn't believe that he's mostly likely dead. She looked around, looking for any fluttering scarf or a clawed hand, anything. But she couldn't see anything. Defeated, she slumped to the floor with a sign, she didn't want to be alone here! She doesn't even know what this place is, nor the danger that lurks here, There could be things that could very well kill her!

Then she heard a very faint, yet familiar, chirp.

A bit startled, she glanced around, trying to find the source of the sound, then she noticed a dim orange glow near the gigantic tree. A bit relieved yet confused, she carefully walked towards the tree. It was a bit of a trek, but she managed to get there rather quickly.

It was Aven! Albeit he looked to be in pretty bad shape, lying in a fetal position and some orange sparks still appearing from the area he was stabbed. She tried to walk towards him as quietly as possibly, before chirping. He looked towards her, stiff and weak, before letting out a soft, hoarse chirp. Okay, he's not in any shape to be able to stand up or even walk with his injury. So Edda decided on the second best thing, maybe she could set camp here, since they're both safe from the weather due to the tree, and there's most likely stuff for making a campfire here too.

So she went out to collect stones and sticks, making sure to not stray too far from Aven, she didn't want anything sneaking up on neither Aven nor herself, and she definitely didn't want anything to hurt him. After a surprising successful trip (Turns out if the stones and sticks are a different colour from the grass, they're much easier to find), she immediately started preparing the campfire.

While placing the sticks in the ring of stones, Aven chirped again. "What's wrong?" She chirped in reply. "Nothing much," he replied, "Just a bit freaked out about this place, and still in a bit of pain." "Well, at least we have each other," Edda chirped, placing the final sticks into the campfire, "Even in unfamiliar lands, we won't be separated and I will try to find help if you need it." Aven gave a soft chuckle, before chirping, "You're still as determined as always, and that made me feel a bit better. Thank you." "You're welcome," she chirped in replied, finally starting the fire, "I'll stand guard to make sure there's no threats, you can rest for tonight. You're injured, so please don't do anything dumb if I do accidentally fall asleep." "Alright, alright!" He laughed a bit, "I'll fall asleep. Good night."

With that, he curled up, stab wound still sparking slightly. Granted, he already looks a lot better now, but she won't risk him trying to walk with that sort of injury still. Edda stared at him for a moment, before turning her gaze towards the campfire, before finally looking out at the scenery. This place was oddly beautiful, the grasses and trees were swaying gently in the wind, and the unfamiliar sky sparkles with dots of light. There's also the quiet chirping of some sort of creature, and some vaguely void butterfly-like creatures glowing a soft cyan. It almost reminded her of home, but that feels to far away now, so she should try to focus on the present. So she looked out into the beyond for the night, watching for danger as her only friend rests in an unfamiliar world.

Although, it did seemed as if she did fell asleep, as next thing she knew, she was hearing the sounding of Aven's fire abilities, clanking of metal and yelling. Startled, she got up and was immediately greeted by the sight of a bunch of weird creatures trying to attack Aven, while Aven is desperately trying to defend himself using his fire skills and claws. She quickly summoned her sword and shield, and darted towards the floating, red-and-black creature with the pointy face. It yelled something in an oddly watery-sounding voice, before summoning a sphere that is almost certainly a shield. Of course, she guessed what to do and decided on one option: Use her ice abilities, and the moment that shield goes down, use her sword and all other attacks to get rid of that one quickly, especially since it seemed to be the one in charged.

She summoned a brush of Frost aimed at that creature, catching it off-guard and almost instantly breaking its shield, before almost finishing it off with a few blows from her sword. Of course, she tried to use her absorption skill on it as usual. Except... nothing happened. That's weird, maybe she wasn't focusing enough? She tried again, but it also didn't work. Okay, seems like creatures from this world can't be absorbed. So she decided to finish it off for good using her lightning skill.

One down, at least 5 more to go.

She then turned her attention towards the maned, brown creatures without faces. They seemed to have a lot of weapons, including axes, bows and weird... red blob things? Okay, she was in a unfamiliar world so she should had expected that... but still. She immediately targeted the blob throwing ones, as they seemed the most dangerous out of the bunch. With a lot of ice attacks, sword slashes and arrows, she managed to take them down one at a time, while Aven himself also use his fire, wind and claws attacks to prevent them from getting to close.

Then right as she was about to finish off one of the blob-throwers, a large, almost vortex-like gust of wind appeared out of nowhere, sending her flying into the tree. Great.

They noticed the creatures immediately turned their attention to whatever (or whoever) created said vortex and before they knew it, all they could see within the frenzy was blades seemingly made from cyan energy, bursts of water and a black and purple bird seemingly able to conduct electricity.

And as suddenly as it happened, it stopped. Edda looked to where the commotion was, and there were four figure, all seemingly wearing something covering almost their entire bodies and definitely not shapes, unlike Aven and herself. They seemed to be discussing something, and seemed to be pointing at the sky, before pointing towards the cliffs she woke up at. Ah great, they managed to get the locals attention!

She stared at the strange beings for a second, before cautiously walking out from the tree's shade and giving a soft chirp. The beings all proceeded to stare right at her, their... eyes being rather confused and shocked? They looks so much like her kind yet are so different at the same time it's almost... scary. Neither party haven't moved nor spoke, only staring at each other for a very long time. It's only when Aven made a rather curious yet stressed chirped was Edda's attention drawn to him, and the beings finally said something.

"There's two of them?!" The one with light yellow hair shouted, that one reminds her of Aven, especially in appearance. Wait no, that's not the one with the light hair. Instead, it's a extremely small, floating being with a halo on their head, their voice extremely high-pitched and squeaky, "You know, didn't Katheryne and Jean mentioned that there were two meteors a few nights ago that were blue and orange?"

Wait... they've both been in this place for a few days?! How did nothing happened to either of them?

The one with long, light yellow hair and dark cloth-things, walked towards her, before they bowed and spoke, "I, Fischl, Prinzessin der Verurteilung, welcome you. Are you two travellers from another world? If so, tell us what to call you." "She means 'hello, can you tell us who you are?', if you couldn't tell," the black-and-purple bird translated with one wing pointed at "Fischl." She stared all of them for a moment, wondering if they could understand her, before chirping, "My name is Edda."

"Tsk, it can't talk," said the one with the large cyan hat, with arms folded, "Are you even sure that these two are the weird meteors people have seen?" "Shut it! They could possibly understand us!" The one with two different eye shades barked. Of course, she can understand them, it's just that there's a very big language barrier, and it's definitely one-sided.

Aven, who was clutching his chest and panting slightly, seemed to perked up a bit as the strangers talk about them. He stared at them for a moment, before getting an idea: Since they can "talk" to the ancients easily even though there's a somewhat difficult language barrier via "mind talking", he could theoretically use it on them... although that could freak them out a bit.

So gathering all his courage and energy, he chirped, "Her name is Edda, and we CAN understand you!"

Everyone went dead silent, Edda staring at him in confusion and the strangers seemingly a bit startled. The small floating one was the first to break the silence, "You... can talk?" "Yes, I can," he replied, leaning against the tree and checking if he accidentally made his wound worse, "Edda could as well, but I guess it might be a bit scary, considering that it's like you suddenly hear a strange voice inside your head, and it's not yours."

"Okay... so... What's your name?" The floating one continued, floating a bit closer to them. "I'm Aven," he replied, "Of course, Edda is the one that's standing in front of you. Who are you?"

The little being floated back to the group before introducing themself, "This is Paimon!" She then points to the others, "That's Aether, Fischl, Furina and Wanderer." The blue hat one, named Wanderer, then commented, "So... you're the only one that can talk here or can 'Edda' also talk? Plus, you can call me anything you want, just don't disappoint me." The way he phrased that made Aven tensed up a little bit, but granted, they all seemed to be pretty good people, so maybe 'Wanderer' is a little blunt.

He chirped to Edda, "They can understand us if we mind-talk to them." She nodded, before introducing herself, "I am Edda, and it's nice to meet all of you." Aven could tell that she cringed a little bit at the last part, but at least that's a start?

Paimon waved at them, before talking, "If you'll like, we can carry you to Mondstadt so you can rest and we can help Aven!" Edda was a bit glad that they caught on to Aven's injury, but she didn't know if she could risk accidentally causing further damage to him while carrying him. "That sounds nice... how far is it though?"

"It's not too far from here!" Paimon chimed, "In fact, it's a very straightforward trip: you only have to travel Northwest. Although if you'll like, we can show you the path!" Edda thought about it for a moment, before chiming back, "Okay, I guess we'll go with you. Every one of you seem to know this land well, so I trust all of you that there would be not much danger, especially since my friend here is injured."

"Don't worry! We all have it covered!" Paimon beamed, Edda could get used to her squeaky voice, she seemed to be rather excited for everything. Edda walked towards Aven, before chirping, "Aven, I know this would be a but awkward, but I might have to carry you all the way to Mondstadt. Would that be okay?" "Of course, if it means help, then I'm in!" He replied.

With a sign, she hefted Aven onto her shoulder, before turning around and chirping, "Okay, we're ready." As they trekked to the city with their new companions, Edda couldn't help but be thankful that even in a scary world that's nothing like her homeland, she still have her friend, Aven, and people who would gladly help them even if they seemed strange compared to them.

[sortanonymous]

Meta Knightmare AU Stuff: How Max Found Susie (plus general Haltmann family stuff)

Basically the story of the Haltmann family in my Meta Knightmare series, specifically Max's up to the very beginning of MKMIII.

BIG SPOILERS FOR META KNIGHTMARES I-II BELOW (Mostly II)

Just for some background, as a kid, Susie was happily raised by her loving parents in a giant bunker on Shiver Star, where they led a top tech company (one considerably more ethical than the canon HWC to say the least). Those parents were Beatrice, her bubbly mother, and Max, her somewhat goofy father who loved both his wife and his daughter with all his soul and had long promised that he would put himself through whatever he needed to to protect them. (Btw Beatrice was an important magical Ancient and Max an important technological/scientific Ancient, but that's a different story.) On her seventh birthday, Susie was reluctantly allowed to witness a big test of Star Dream, only for its portal to go haywire, and while Max was trapped in the corner of the room, Susie was left clinging for dear life onto the hand of Beatrice, who herself was left clinging onto the railing with her other hand. As Max could only watch in horror, Beatrice gave a look of combined fear, heartbreak, and love to Susie before letting go, putting Susie in a protective bubble, and letting her fall in (sacrificing any chance she herself had at survival in the process in order to save her daughter) just as the portal exploded with herself and her husband still on the other side. As the dust settled, Max was badly injured, but still tried crying out to his family as he crawled across the room. He then found a far-worse-hurt Beatrice in the rubble, who told him that she could sense that Susie was alive and being taken care of in Another Dimension. As Max tried to tell her that he was going to fly out and save their little girl, Beatrice told him that she loved him with all her heart before slipping away into death. Believing he was dying too, Max held onto his wife's hand, lay on the ground, and passed out as he waited to join his beloved Beatrice in death.

When he woke up, however, he was alive, albeit now turned into a cyborg by his Haltworkers to keep him alive. One of his eyes and half of his body (not most of his face) were mechanized in order to keep him alive. As soon as he realized what was going on, he got up and stumbled to where Beatrice's body was being laid before picking her up and sobbing as he cradled the love of his life. Had Susie died in that incident, or even if he was merely unaware of if she initially survived, he likely would have completely fallen into despair and lost all will to live. But with how his wife had spent some of her final seconds telling him that Susie was alright, he was so determined to make sure that he could find a way to rescue her that despite how shattered and shell-shocked he was emotionally by Beatrice's death, he barely gave himself any time to grieve before quickly searching for ways to reunite with Susie. A year of fruitless research followed, culminating in him getting so frustrated that he reluctantly tried Star Dream one more time, this time by using its control helmet. But as if the computer had it out for him, it quickly tried overrunning his mind in agonizing fashion, and he only barely managed to get it shut off in time before his mind was completely consumed. So at that point, Max decided he'd had enough. After commanding his Haltworkers to scrap Star Dream and leave it in the middle of the frozen tundra, he abandoned his home, wealth, and company by flying off in a small ship to find some way to reunite with Susie and get her to safety. All he took with him was all the pictures he could of the past, including a pocket watch with a picture of him, Beatrice, and Susie from that fateful day; the watch had been broken in the incident.

What followed was over 11 years of slowly traveling across the galaxy to several planets in hopes of at least finding something. He'd end up everywhere from Neo Star to Aqua Star to even Ripple Star right after the 02 crisis (probably should have gotten there just a tad earlier). Any time he'd start to lose hope and question if it was worth it and if it would work, he remembered the promise he had always made to protect his family, no matter what it took. If he couldn't protect his wife, then he at least needed to make sure their daughter was okay. That all came to a head on Rock Star, eleven and a half years into his search, when his ship broke down (he had already used up several ships in his search) and as he kept walking and looking for a way to move on, both his organic and robotic halves were struggling in the desert. After also sustaining a hip injury while searching through a junkyard, he nearly gave up right there. But he again remembered the promise he had made as he held newborn Susie in his arms for the first time over 19 years earlier and just kept limping on. Fortunately, not only did he find another ship at the end of that junkyard, but it was a darn good one with the ability to detect the location of Susie through his DNA. Hardly able to comprehend that his years of searching were about to come to a satisfying conclusion, Max began flying his new ship over to Royal Road, Floralia, where Susie somehow was.

Perhaps now is the time to (very slowly) breeze through Susie's side of the story (conveniently starting at the end of Meta Knightmare I). After landing in Another Dimension, she was immediately greeted by a horde of Doomers trying to kill her and a four-year-old Sirica, who had fallen into this place alongside her mother Garlude via separate escape pods as the Halberd was sunk. Susie was left having to run for her life while dragging Sirica away from the horde until Garlude came to shoo them away and lead them to an old base lying around. Susie had imminently started to block out some details of the traumatic incident, but still broke down and needed to be comforted by Garlude as she relayed that her parents may have gotten hurt and that she wasn't sure if she'd ever get home. Garlude immediately decided to take care of both of them as much as she could in Another Dimension, and a few days later, they somehow managed to call Meta and Mikey (Garlude's best friends and fellow Knights) and found out not only that a giant portal to the dimension opens every 8-ish years, but that the base they were in was, in fact, an abandoned Ancient ship - the "base ship", as they'd all call it - that needed a lot of repairing to fly again. With that, the three waited around in AD for eight years while Meta and Mikey picked up all of their other crewmates who had been scattered across Popstar after the Halberd crashed. Then that time came (start of Meta Knightmare II), and long story short, the base ship was up and running at the perfect time and Susie joined the Meta-Knights as they went on adventures and went onto making their comeback. (Also she more or less became sisters with Sirica, but that's for another day.) Even as she missed her old life, things were mostly calm until the mission to salvage the Halberd two years in, when she was in a scary water pod crash. While she was uninjured and Meta was able to save her, the crash suddenly reminded her of every bit of the portal disaster that had happened eight years earlier to the day, and while Meta was able to comfort her about it, she still believed that both her parents were killed in the incident. A couple years after that, while her father was one drive away from ending his quest, she was in Royal Road for the second time since leaving AD alongside the Knights to help Sectonia with a bit of growing corruption. (That one's definitely a story for another day.)

It was in the middle of the night after that was resolved when Max finally landed in the royal family's garden, with Susie quickly recognizing him and frantically stopping the guards from shooting him out of the sky. As soon as he walked out with a makeshift walking stick in hand, the two of them immediately ran to each other and embraced, just crying for a while as a truly miraculous reunion took place. Among many other things said in the moment, Max briefly explained how he had gotten here and told her that her mother would be so proud of her for getting out. Susie, meanwhile, explained how she got here and how much the Knights meant to her. Seeing how much the Knights meant to her and how much she had grown up in the past twelve years, Max allowed her to stay on that crew. But with the Knights seeing that he clearly had nothing left to return to, they allowed him to join the team and live close to his daughter, although instead of living with them, he chose to live in a chintzy little dome-shack on the shore right across from Halberd Island. After so many grueling years reeling from that tragic incident, Max, now reunited with his daughter and being part of a whole new family in the Knights, would become a key member of the team within the next few years (aka by the start of Meta Knightmare III), and they all lived happily ever after. Well, at least until MKMIII actually began, but for the last time, that's a story for another day.

[mistrdctr]

@ssolessurvivor asked: Logan often gets overly emotional after they share a night together, but nothing hits him worse than when he knows he has to leave, to let Stephen have his day ahead of him. "I don't know if I ever told you." Logan muses, speaking quietly against the sheets with his hair splayed against the pillow, gazing into those eyes. "Thank you, for saving my life those years ago." A hand has gone on Stephen's cheek and his thumb idly strokes the skin there. "I know you were a different man, but I wanted you to know. Thank you." He's almost sheepishly blushing now, leaning into the pillow though his multi-colored eye still holds his love's gaze.

The sun is barely out yet, leaving the bedroom in some sort of almost-but-not-quite darkness, the first rays of light shining in through the big windows to the right; Stephen is facing the one who he is sharing his bed with at the very moment, eyes still a little heavy-lidded from sleep but very much awake already.

They are sharing some soft kisses, some innocent touches - a cheek is covered by a soft palm, and scarred fingers trail along the shape of a shoulder in return - when Logan speaks, breaking the silence between them that has existed for a while now---

---And Strange blinks, stopping his movements as a hint of surprise crosses is barely-lit features.

He has to think about it, to realize what the younger speaks about - he does not get it, not at first, which causes his dark brows to knit for a second as confusion sets in, bright eyes flicking along the blonde's features in search for an answer, before, finally, a set of full lips part in realization.

Logan. The young man in front of him - Stephen knows him.

He knows him from back in the day when he has been working as a neurosurgeon still; Asked to attend a very complicated emergency surgery that needed to be done on a severely injured patient coming straight from space, a man who was the only survivor of a true desaster having happened back on that moon Mimas---

Now, suddenly, just like that, everything makes a lot of sense.

The scars make sense, scattered all along that handsome man's body. His reactions to seeing Stephen in varying states of roughness make sense. The feeling of already having met him before - that also makes sense now. A lot.

And the sorcerer blinks, brows lifted in surprise, feeling a sudden wave of guilt and shame flooding him like a tidal wave; How did he not think about... this? How did he not realize that this man, this soul, is the very same one he's operated on a long time ago, together with other well-known surgeons, fighting hard to keep him alive and not have him die on their table?

"...Logan, I...", he starts, momentarily unsure how to proceed. A pause follows, scarred fingers now making their way to a beautiful face, cupping a cheek in return while his thumb traces the shape of a cheekbone. "---I'm sorry I... didn't realize that you--- I... I just didn't think---"

He should have, but Strange did not. How long did Logan know about him having been one of the doctors...?

Blinking again, a set of bight eyes closing momentarily, the sorcerer shifts a bit closer - then lifts his chin, just so that he is able to press a soft kiss against the blonde's forehead, allowing it to linger for a few seconds.

"...I'm just a stupid dumbass sometimes. I knew you felt familiar, in a way, seeing your face - I just never connected the dots. It's been a while..."

That he is. Will always be, no matter how many titles he manages to gain in his life, no matter whether he will ever end up as a sorcerer supreme or some shit. He's still Stephen, still the man he always used to be, albeit changed. In some parts, at least.

"And please - don't thank me. I swore an oath to cause no harm. It was my job to try my very best to keep you alive - and to make sure your injuries were treated."

Lips separate themselves from the other's forehead, the tip of a nose brushing against Logan's own, eyes remaining closed.

"---I'm so glad you're here, and that you... recovered. That you made it." It's a whisper, but it is deeply heartfelt and sincere as it slips from between Strange's teeth, breathed out into the small space between them.

[rangerdrabbles]

Destiny

An AU where Virgie is Wes’ long-lost sister. When their father is injured and assumed to be dying, Alex shows up, proving to be alive, and tries to convince Wes that his destiny is to take over Mr. Collins’ company. Unfortunately, Alex doesn’t forsee the presence of Virgie, whose return home was entirely unforseen, and, according to Time Force, not supposed to happen at all.

Ever since their chance reunion due to a yearly round of DNA tests from gold-digging young women insisting they were Wes’ long-lost sister, Virgie had kept mostly to herself. She’d spent enough time with her father to learn about his company, though it was clear she wasn’t any more interested than her brother. Mr. Collins, for his part, actually listened to what Virgie could remember of what she’d been through and what she’d become, though it was apparent he found it repugnant. Still, for all his obsession with his company and profit, he didn’t blame his daughter for it, and tried to be kind in his own way.

Virgie had actually blamed the other rangers-minus her brother and Eric-for getting her father hurt in the first place. After all, wasn’t it their watch that Ransik had escaped under?

So when her brother’s doppleganger, one Alex Drake by name, appeared and started talking to her brother about ‘destiny’, Virgie, who was listening from behind them, flew into a rage. Had her brother seen her, he probably would have mouthed a ‘no’ and motioned with his hands for her to leave things be, but Wes didn’t see her at all-at least until she tackled Alex to the ground in her Psycho Red guise.

“What the-” Alex struggled to fight the raging, pint-sized psycho, whose hands were currently reaching for his neck. They rolled around on the ground for a while, neither one giving the other any ground. Virgie’s transformation was flickering back and forth.

“Virgie, no-” Wes tried to interrupt them. “Fighting him isn’t going to solve-”

“HE DOESN’T KNOW ANYTHING!” Virgie yelled, kicking and punching Alex as hard as she could. The man was lucky her homicidal urges had (mostly) subsided. “WAS IT DESTINY FOR ME TO BE TAKEN AWAY FROM MY FAMILY AND USED AS A TOOL?”

“Well, actually, it was your destiny to remain-” Alex had said the wrong thing and went flying against the wall.

“Virgie! Virgie stop!” Jen had arrived with the other time force rangers by then, but was cut off by a simple blast of lightning that sent them all flying.

“Virgie!” Wes urged. “Virgie stop!”

“They’re not hurt, just stunned,” Virgie said flatly before charging at Alex again. “LISTEN HERE YOU POMPOUS JACKASS, YOU DO NOT GET TO DECIDE ANYONE’S DESTINY! NOT MINE, NOT MY BROTHER’S, NOT ERIC’S, not anyone else’s!”

Eric, meanwhile, had followed the sound of the explosions, and wisely shifted into his Quantum Ranger guise when he heard Virgie yelling. He’d arrived just in time to hear her last remark, and actually appreciated it. It gave him pause to think about both siblings, but he hadn’t come for that. Instead, he strode over to the angry Virgie, leaned down, and whispered something in her ear.

“Really?” Virgie turned around. “So fast?”

Eric nodded. “Yeah. Worked like a charm. Course you know now the old man’s gonna want to market the cure-”

Alex took this opportunity to struggle to his feet, albeit dizzily. “What’s going on?”he mumbled.

“I’d like to know the same thing,” Wes admitted. It wasn’t often that his sister just shut down one of her rages at the drop of a hat-if ever.

“Dad’s going to be just fine.” It was the first time Virgie had referred to him as such in public.

“What?” Wes’ face turned to a mixture of confusion, disbelief, and finally joy. “What-how?”

“One of my many talents is teleportation,” Virgie replied. “Not just all over the city but planet to planet. I landed on Aquitar once and they were pretty nice. When this happened, I teleported over for some medicine to help Dad. They said it would be a little bit before they had the actual cure ready, but they sent me back with something that would help him till then. Eric was just telling me that someone arrived with the proper cure and now he’s fine.”

“That’s great! Now we can-” Wes was cut off by another explosion.

“That’s impossible, he was supposed to-” Alex said at the same time.

“Hey, destiny is whatever you make it,” Virgie replied. “Don’t worry Wes-I didn’t stun them too much. I’m sure they’ll be fine enough to take care of whatever that is.

Wes groaned, and moved to help his teammates.

Alex, meanwhile, shook his head. “I don’t understand any of this.”

“What, you think everything’s supposed to happen the way it says in a history book?” Eric asked. “C’mon Virgie, let’s go see the old man.”

[rendnotmyheart]

Also, while we’re at it, Jiang Cheng literally went through so much fucking shit, like more than any other character bar maybe WWX. Like first his parents fucking die and now he’s fucking sect leader to a sect that was just completely destroyed. Then, he sacrifices himself and golden core to save his brother. Then, oh guess what there’s a fun new way to restore a golden core! Things are looking up! But then, his brother gets fucking kidnapped and JC spends months searching for him praying that he’s not dead because he can’t lose anyone else. Then, he finds his brother, but something’s off, he’s obviously not okay, but WWX keeps pushing him away. And he doesn’t have the time to help WWX because he’s still trying to rebuild his sect and figure out how to be a sect leader at the same time And it doesn’t help that WWX is a no show half the time, but JC wouldn’t be as irritated about that if WWX would just tell him wtf is going on. But he doesn’t and keep pushing JC away and causing trouble, and all of the other sects start getting uneasy, and JC wishes WWX would lay low for once in his life.

But of course he doesn’t and WWX, despite the sects already starting to turn against him, goes and completely defies them, and now everyone is convinced his brother is evil and is trying to tell JC that he always hated him, so in a desperate attempt to save his brother who he knows they’re going to find an excuse, any excuse, to kill if they get there hands on him, JC tells WWX to turn the Wens in. He doesn’t know what else to do. But of course WWX doesn’t, and on top of that, decides to secede from the sect. So, JC can’t even protect his brother anymore, and can only hope he doesn’t do anything to get himself killed, and that the other sects will forget how much they hate him. So, when his sister gets married and his brother can’t even go, JC thinks at least WWX still alive. He’s still alive, albeit thinner than JC has ever seen him, but he’s there, and they can have a meal together and WWX can pick out a name for JYL’s future baby. It’s not ideal, but they’re all still there at least.

But then, just when JC thinks things might actually be dying down and his brother can come back, JZX dies. Suddenly, his sister is in mourning, his brother is the target of a witch hunt, and JC really doesn’t know what to do anymore. How can he go against every other sect to save his brother when he’s hands down the weakest of the major clans? How can he protect his brother when everything he does makes it harder and harder to do so? And then, WWX shows up at Nightless City and JC knows it’s over. He knows there’s no way his brother is going to leave here alive. The weight of that knowledge settles in his chest. Yet even as everyone else is being attacked, not one fierce corpse touches YunmengJiang, even as WWX is breaking down and killing more ruthlessly than JC has ever seen him kill, WWX still remembers to keep his brother and sect safe. JC doesn’t know what to do with that, especially since he wasn’t able to keep WWX safe. But WWX was always the better of the two of them, wasn’t he? Then, A-Jie shows up, and JC can’t help the panic that rises when she gets injured. He can’t lose her, he can’t, not her. WWX said he could control it, and JC trusted him, but now A-Jie is hurt. And then she dies saving WWX. She doesn’t even blame him. But JC does. He can’t help it. His sister is dead, everyone’s dead, and WWX is still alive, but he’s not really, and even before that, he left JC, and he said he could control it, but now JYL is dead and if JC had only done something, if only WWX had let someone help. And then WWX dies. And JC really has no one left. And who does he blame? Himself Wei Wuxian. If WWX hadn’t cultivated the twisted path, if he hadn’t left JC, if he’d let someone help, none of this would have happened; JC wouldn’t be left alone. He wouldn’t be left alone with a kid to raise who should have the best mother in the world but is stuck with him instead.

Then, WWX comes back, and JC finds out his core isn’t his own and his sacrifice meant nothing, it caused everything, and WWX didn’t even ask before throwing his life away for JC’s! JC didn’t want this, and everything is a mess. All he ever did was try to protect his family, but he just kept getting it wrong. None of this would have ever happened if he didn’t try to protect his brother to begin with. But it’s not even his fault! He never asked for WWX to give him his core! WWX once again decided to play the hero and didn’t even stop to consider that maybe, maybe, it wasn’t his job to save everyone, and maybe someone else wanted to save him for once. It’s all a mess of hurt and misunderstanding that JC doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to untangle.

[thyshadowwriter]

Lost & found.

Ivar Ragnarsson x oc.

Summary: being rescued by Helga in one of the raids and reluctantly tolerated by Floki, a young girl finds herself amidst a strange place with strange people, but if adapting to the cultural shock wasn't hard enough, catching the attention of the volatile and beloved son of the Queen would soon prove to be the ultimate proving. That if she realizes just how much being around prince Ivar is walking on thin ice.

Author's note: simply said, a scenario that's been playing in my head. I took some liberties with the wacky timeline. Apologies in advance for typos, grammar and the lack of a read more, only so much I can do on mobile XD.

This chapter is all around Helga and Floki as they bring her with them.

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

This was a bad idea, a mad idea, Floki was sure of that, yet he couldn't bring himself to deny the desperate plea of his wife, he had already done that. If bringing that strange girl with them would at least ease the grief of his Helga, then he could put up with the girl, granted she lived enough to wake.

Though the fact she was injured before they arrived was a thought that he couldn't ignore.

The girl was laid on furs Helga carefully arranged for her. She was passed out since they got her from the raid. The wound on her left chest, dire as it was, was healing slowly with Helga's care, and as uncomfortable as it was for Floki, he too helped Helga in her sudden wish to keep this girl alive.

Helga searched the girl's body, seeking any other wound but finding nothing, much to her relief. She washed her long, pitch black, hair with a smile on her face, rolling the curls around her fingers.

Days had passed like this, with Helga hovering over her with a joy Floki had long since saw. She would stare at the passed out girl as if she had known her since birth, then at Floki with a smile and a shine behind her eyes. It was a horrible idea, but she was happy so he would smile back to her while it lasted.

Part of him wished the girl would just not wake and he wouldn't have to deal with whomever she was and the consequences of her presence, part of him was very curious she did wake for him to see it unfold.

After a few days of Helga's careful attention the girl woke up. She squirmed weakly in the furs, face full of pain. Helga was already by her side, as she had been since she brought her.

"Floki! Floki, she's waking!" Said Helga looking back to him.

He spoke nothing.

The girl squirmed more, rolling her head from side to side, trying to move her hands, under the fur, but her attempts were too weak to do much.

"Wake up, my beautiful child. Wake up."

She called the girl with soothing words and caressing hands on her head.

From the other side of the tent, Floki watched warily, he was curious yet he didn't want to be part of it. It would probably be best if he didn't anyway. Not now.

The girl blinked weakly, whispering something incomprehensible to them.

"It's alright, my dear, it's alright. Wake up." Helga said, keeping the girl's head still else she moved harshly, while caressing her plump cheeks with her thumbs.

She mumbled something that sounded like a question, face scrunched in pain, while trying to move her head.

"Wake up. Wake up, child."

Helga smile faltered and her voice waved.

She opened her eyes slowly, stopping her movements. She was unfocused, but Helga's hand softly caressing her face guided the girl's gaze to her.

She looked to the girl with a hopeful shine in her eyes even if they were watery. The girl finally looked back to her. From the other side, Floki saw how her eyes turned from pain and confusion to dread and her lips parted slightly as if trying to say something but nothing came out of them.

"I've found you, the gods sent you to me." Helga said with a soft voice.

The girl stared at her for a few seconds before passing out again.

"Floki! Floki, help me. She passed out." Helga called for him, trying to shake her awake.

Floki sighed and without moving from his spot said to her:

"She's recovering, Helga. Let her rest. She'll be up in no time now."

Helga looked back to him with eyes wide open, but silently agreed with him. Turning back to the girl, she adjusted the furs around her, caressed her face and kissed her forehead, before going to sleep herself.

She would wake up anytime soon, Floki was sure, albeit not relieved.

Two days more the girl woke up. She was obviously tired, but sat down startled before Helga could stop her. A look of utter confusion and fear that clouded her expression.

She was young, younger than what their Angrboda would be by now. Her hair was as black as a raven, very long and curled, cheeks and lips plump. Her dark eyes, looking to every detail surrounding her, transparent to all emotions crossing her mind.

When Helga approached her with a bowl of food, she flinched, looking back and forth terrified of Helga and Floki.

"Don't fear, my child. We won't harm you." Helga said, leaning a hand to her.

The girl seemed to ponder what what to do, looking to the bowl and Helga.

She tried to move, but she agonized in pain as she moved her arm.

Helga hurried to her, sitting by her side and petting her head to calm her down.

"Be careful, you are still wounded." She said worried.

The girl looked down to her covered wound, to Helga, who smiled kindly and nodded and to Floki, who looked to her, possibly as intrigued as she was.

She stood still, her other hand hovering above her wound, a lost look in her eyes. She looked to Helga, searching something, perhaps an answer.

"It is alright, my child. You are safe now. No one is going to hurt you." Said Helga with her kindest smile.

The girl pulled her eyebrows together, possibly not understanding a word of what was said, but still searching meaning.

She then cautiously nodded to Helga, accepting the food and the help to eat. She went back to sleep shortly after.

Helga was happy, looking back to Floki and giggling, trying to keep quiet as to not disturb the resting girl.

"She is getting better, Floki. See? The gods gave her to us."

"I hope you are right, Helga. I hope you are."

Back to Kattegat, the girl was already on her feet, Helga guiding her with a reassuring hold on her shoulders. It became clear to them she spoke nothing of their language nor of the Christians for that matter, but she seemed to be thankful and surprised by being saved. She accepted the food, learned their names and tried to understand them to the better of her abilities.

The only thing she refused to say was her name. She would always turn silent or look away.

"She refuses to say her name, we need a name, we need one to introduce her." Said Helga.

Floki has been pondering on the subject for a while. She wasn't to be a slave, so she needed a name if she was to be part of the society as their adopted daughter.

"Revna. I will name her Revna."

[sirthisisa-wendys]

The General (part 3): Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader

synopsis: Things are explained, and you’re taken by surprise more than once. 

wc: 2.7k

tw: none

masterlist

Moonlight streams into the tent from a gash in the fabric above, illuminating your captor as he sleeps in the massive bed built for a giant or two. You, however, lay on the ground beside the bed, eyes glued to the sleeping general in spite.

Geto had yet again embarrassed you at dinner, making you kneel on the floor next to his chair instead of taking your place at the table. His kinsmen had laughed at you under their breath, and when he began to feed you from his plate by handing you pieces of food from his hand, that had completely annihilated any piece of pride you had left. Gojo made a joke about you being a beautiful, albeit begrudgingly obedient puppy which earned him a round of riotous laughter. It took all you had not to burst into tears right there.

And when the General got tipsy and began to pet your hair with a fondness you could only describe as possession, you felt even more defeated. 

But now it was all over. You were alone with him once more, trapped - even on the ground - and unable to leave. You were physically unrestrained - because where could you go when the camp stretched on for miles? - but the entrapment was mental. Nothing like this had ever crossed your mind when you considered your future. It all rested on Yuko’s shoulders not two da--

Yuko. 

What had that one soldier mentioned? 

“Is she really as beautiful as Yuko said?” 

Yuko. 

The idea that he had anything to do with this encounter would have been absurd to you, except… now, it wasn’t. 

When you gasp and sit up abruptly, Geto cracks open an eye and his hand shoots out to grab the neck of your kimono. “Easy there, little one.” But when he sees your tears, his features go from scrutiny to a softer gaze, and his hand releases from your kimono and flops to the side of the bed. 

“Why am I here?” you whisper, wiping your nose. “What am I to you?” 

“You’re here because I want you here,” Geto replies, sitting up fully and letting the sheets slide down his perfect frame.

“Why me?” 

“You were headed to the Imperial Court. Like I said, it’s a hellish life there. You should thank me, really. If we hadn’t gotten to you befo--” 

“What does Yuko have to do with any of this?” As soon as you mention Yuko, the atmosphere in the room changes from careful and concerned to an inquisition. Geto places his feet on the floor, eyes glued to your tear-stained face as he stands and then crouches in front of you. His hand drifts to your cheek, rubbing away a fresh tear before a thumb is smoothed over your dry lips.

“I almost forgot… you were close to him, weren’t you?” You neither confirm nor deny the accusations by remaining dreadfully still, eyes locked with the man in front of you. “Your silence confirms this.” Geto stands again, moving past you before lighting a few lanterns and then walking around you much like the previous night. 

“I have eyes everywhere, little one. When I heard that the Imperial Matchmaker was headed around the country, I made sure of two things: one, that she would conveniently look for a common girl to wed to a Prince, and two, that she would be from one of the towns where my eyes were.” 

‘My eyes’… Yuko is a… traitor?

“You see,” Geto leans down to brush his lips against your ear as his hair tickles your shoulder. “I’ve been waiting for a moment like this ever since I was denied my rightful place in line for the throne, and I’ve tried everything to get it back.” A shiver runs down your spine at his admission, and you crane your head up to look at him in shock, fearing the next words out of his mouth. His onyx eyes are crazed, almost feral with ambition. “Well, that is… except start a war. And what better way to begin one than over a stolen princess-to-be?” 

_______________________________________________________________________

When Kaori enters the tent later on that morning, you’ve made up your mind. The eater of curses made it very clear that you were a pawn in his bid to usurp the Imperial Throne, and he also reiterated that escape was absolutely impossible. You were being watched by eyes you couldn’t see, listened to by ears you couldn’t deafen, and talked about by mouths you couldn’t shut. 

But there was one thing you could do. 

As the woman tends to your bruised knees, you examine her tools. 

“Do you have something that I could use to mend my old gown? And do you know where it went?” Kaori looks up at you, her brown hair falling behind her ears as her face contorts into a confused expression.

“Your old dress is gone, my Lady.” 

“It is?” 

“Sent downriver to the nearest village and made to look like you had been killed.” The news of your faked death is alarming, to say the least. 

“You mean I’m--” 

“Like most captives, you will no longer be searched for.” How many others had this happened to? 

“I-” 

“And I know what you’re thinking, Lady y/n. I am not permitted any sharp tools aside from what I am allowed to use in the hot springs with the other ladies, but they are not sharp enough to take a life. I am sure Master Geto will allow you to join us one day, though.” 

“H-how many women has he had before me?” Kaori looks up at you again; her eyes cold and unforgiving. 

“Only one, and she almost ruined him.” Her hands return to your calf, massaging the muscle carefully. “But that will never happen again. That we will all make sure of.” 

Another blue kimono, another morning spent alone until lunch had been brought to you. You now roam around the camp, followed closely by Kaori and another young woman you don’t know yet. As you bite into the pear in your hand, you try to catch bits and pieces of their chatter, but you lose the noise as soon as you encounter something new - which is every three seconds. Out of all of the women you see - most young women probably not above the age of twenty-nine - none of them wear blue kimonos. They’re either in red or green, perhaps signifying rank or job. But in all of the days you’ve seen Kaori, she’s dressed in multiple different colors, all except blue. 

You wonder what that means for a moment before you chance upon a large, open field full of men practicing their swordsmanship and hand-to-hand combat. You’re standing on a high part of a hill just before it slopes downward to where they are sparring. As your eyes scan the crowd from above, you look for your long-haired captor, and you cannot find him until a hand points over your shoulder. 

“You see that ring there?” The other woman speaks, and your eyes instantly hone in on a ring of men huddled around two figures fighting. “Master Geto and Master Gojo fight there all the time.” 

“Who wins?” you wonder, looking back at the giggling maid. 

“Which way will the wind blow tomorrow?” she answers, and at your confused expression, Kaori steps in.

“Some days it is Master Geto. Other days it is Master Gojo. We can never tell until the spar has ended and the dust has settled.” Your eyes turn back to the men in the circle, and you see a long stream of jet black hair and then long white hair, but they’re moving much too fast for you to be able to discern their movements. 

“They won’t be done for a while,” The other maid adds, and places a hand on your shoulder. “I’m sure Master Geto will come find you when he’s ready to… unwind.” The giggles at this comment do nothing for your nerves. 

_______________________________________________________________________

The General returns to the tent after a few hours, cuts and bruises dotting his half-clothed physique. You eye him carefully as he stalks past you on the bed, followed by a male attendant who rushes to help him undress and take a bath on the other side of the curtain. 

He’s silent as the water sloshes around, and you can barely make out any other noises besides the occasional hiss of pain or deep exhale. It’s obvious that the man who attends to his wounds did his job properly when Geto emerges with only a bandage on his right side, blood dotting the cloth taped to his ribs. 

“Scoot over,” Geto waves his hand at you, flopping onto the space you’ve made with barely so much as a ‘thank you’.

“Did you win?” you inquire and Geto looks over at you before touching his arms behind his head and giving you a toothy grin. 

“Of course I did.” You both lapse into another silence before Geto clears his throat and slides a hand from under his head and onto your back. “You went to see us train… I’m surprised you’d be interested in that.” 

“I was walking around and happened to observe the melee.” 

“Kaori told you about how our fights end, then.” 

“She and her companion didn’t add much to the already obvious; you two spar well.” 

“Do you fight, little one?” he asks innocently. You give him a look and that’s all he needs to see to know that the answer is ‘no’. “I should teach you to fight, then.”

“Why, so I can fight you and then run away after I win against you?” you retort, and Geto laughs suddenly, clutching at his injured side. 

“I didn’t say I would teach you how to beat me, I just said ‘to fight’,” he chokes out, wiping away the tears that dot his bottom eyelid. “You have a very interesting sense of humor.”

“It keeps me alive,” you mumble and you feel the hand on your back run up and down your spine. While the comforting gesture is kind in nature, it makes your skin crawl that someone so evil could touch anyone in an affectionate way. 

“Did Yuko ever touch you like this?” At this question, you look over at the man who spoke, eyes blazing. 

“He would never,” you snarl.  

“Smart man,” Geto grumbles, sitting up; now placing his hand on your leg. “I told him not to touch my things. He learned that lesson as a child and it seems it has carried over well.” 

“I’m your thing, now?” You snatch your body away from his grip and climb off the bed, shuffling to the far side of the tent to be alone. “You know, when people get pets, they at least give them something to play with and keep them busy during the day.”

“You want something to play with?” Geto moves off of the bed and raises a brow, fingering the waistband of his pants thoughtfully. “That can be arranged.” Fear leaps into your throat even though the man doesn’t move a single inch closer to you. You swallow hard, then Geto speaks, running his hands through his hair exasperatedly. “When I imagined taking a woman, it did not seem as hard as it actually is. Besides the frustrating part, you vex me entirely in areas I have never been tried in. I’m trying to keep you pure, so when this is over and I can release you to your hometown and you’ll be free to do as you please… but little one, you make it hard for me to control myself when you act this way.”

“It is obvious that you are a patient man and tha-” 

“It is not enough when that very vexation causes me to be kinder than I’ve ever been toward someone who repeatedly disrespects my existence.” 

“Kind? To me?” You scoff, turning away and crossing your arms. 

“I have been far kinder to you than anyone else I have held captive.” He’s advancing on you, but you can’t do much except back up against the tent side with fear. 

“All for some war so you can take the throne?” 

“All for my rightful place as Emperor.” 

“As a bastard son of the current Emperor, really.” Your cheeks are squeezed between fingers, and you taste the tang of iron in your mouth. You try to yank your face out of his grip, but it’s too strong, and you find that you’re held quite close to him as a result. He brings your face closer to his, eyes running wild over your features for a moment as he holds you captive. 

“Watch your tongue,” Geto warns, then lets you go, inhaling deeply before shaking out an exhale. You rub at your cheeks and now bitten tongue mournfully, giving the General a nasty look. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“I would if you told me everything,” you mumble, looking away from the way his muscles were illuminated and painted perfectly and to the ground. “If I’m to be a pawn in your game, at least let me in on your plan.” 

Geto looks over his shoulder at you, a small smile lifting the corners of his lips up. It’s something you can’t look away from, and your mouth dries up at the gesture of familiarity. “You would like that, wouldn’t you? I’ll tell you my secrets and then you’ll go and tell your kinsmen the plan, right? Somehow get that information to them… then plan your escape.” The smile falls, and the General turns back to you, his face now utterly serious. “I’m not a fool, little one. Foolishness did not get me this far, and I won’t begin to act like one now.” 

At this, he stalks out of the tent and leaves you alone again, stuck with your thoughts and your increasing desire to run away and never look back.

_______________________________________________________________________

Dinner. 

You’d come to dread the most decadent meal of the day where you would be sitting on the floor next to the General. You were not permitted to speak, but only eat from his hand and drink from his cup when allowed, and anyone could make fun of you behind hands or openly, as you were nothing more than an object. 

As you contemplate your fate yet again, you feel the familiar tap of something warm at your lips. 

“Eat.” Geto urges you, and you reluctantly open your mouth to accept the piece of meat. When you look around the table, you can just barely see the eyes of Gojo and Haibara following the motions of Geto’s hands as they converse about military strategy, but you can definitely see the eyes of the one they called Nanami following your movements with precision. 

Another piece of meat is presented for you to consume, and you do so mindlessly, observing the others at the table with less interest. That is, until you catch the little eyes of a child who sits at the other end of the table. He’s mid-chew with his little hands in the food, perhaps just now seeing you sitting on the floor like an obedient dog. 

You hadn’t seen children here before now, and it seems that the “little one” here was actually him, with his pink hair and brown eyes observing you curiously. It isn’t until he hops down from the table - his little hands plucking a piece of fish off of his plate - and disappears that your head eagerly follows his movements. 

Geto notices that you’re distracted and puts a hand on your shoulder, directing your attention back to him.

“If you--”

“Eat.” The voice of the child and the sliver of fish pressed to your mouth shocks both you and Geto, and the whole table is silenced by the interaction. “Eat.” The child encourages you again, and you accept the fish, his little fingers placing it in your mouth with care. As expected, the laughter begins anew, but you feel like laughing too as the child climbs back up to his seat and continues his own meal, unaware of the spectacle he’d just created. 

“It appears you have an effect on little Yuji, Geto,” Gojo howls at the end of the table, holding his stomach as he and Haibara roar with laughter. “Soon he’ll be feeding his own lady just like you!” 

And Geto laughs as well, tossing his head back and letting the sound carry into the night.

[aries-writingblog]

Whatever It Takes

Summary: When Sam gets injured on a mission, YN will do anything to fix her mistakes. While she worries about fixing Sam, Bucky picks up on her guilt. Picking up the pieces of herself she dropped in her frantic efforts.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word count: 2322

Warnings: panic/ anxiety, mentions of blood and character injury

AN: This was one requested by the lovely and wonderful @cherry-season who gave me so much inspiration to write! I hope I did it justice. Happy reading!! GIF is not my own, credit to original creator.

Her heart pounded against her ribs, threatening to break free of its skeletal cage. Anxious adrenaline flowed in her veins as she paced. Hand rubbing across the back of her neck, impatiently waiting for answers.

It had been an hour since she and Sam returned from their mission. The mission that went completely and horrendously wrong. It started off fine- it started normal. Then it got twisted in a way YN couldn’t even comprehend.

She had been watching his back. She always watched her partner’s back. So what went wrong? What went so off rails- what did she do? How could she have let this happen?

“Miss LN?” YN’s head snapped to the source of the noise. A doctor- still in their surgery gear. She took a shaky inhale, her nerves were decimated. “Why don’t you take a seat- just… try to relax a bit.”

“How- how, where is Sam? Is he okay?” She demanded, moving a step toward the doctor. The woman eased her backwards, gently settling her into a chair. Latex covered fingers pried in between her own glove covered hands. Unclenching the tightly wound fists she had created.

The doctor gave a small, apologetic smile. It quickly fell, giving way to a pressed line of condolence. YN’s stomach plummeted, nausea crawling across her organs. Turning her stomach. Bile rising in her throat. She knew that look. It was the one she had to give to victims when they weren’t going to make it.

“There’s been a slight complication.” She reported quietly, her gaze soft as she studied the agent before her. She was unraveling and quickly. Hands shaking, goosebumps raising on her arms.

“I don’t understand,” YN swallowed, throat aching as her nose burned. Eyes watering from unshed tears. Blurring her eyesight. She blinked them back roughly. “You said you would fix him- what complication?”

“Both kidneys were compromised during the mission- he made it here just in time for us to stabilize him but he is going to need a rapid organ donation to survive.” The doctor informed steadily, keeping her voice even and low. YN’s fingers curled again, trapping her hands between her own. The doctor didn’t blink, unfazed by the strength in her grip. “It’s a difficult task but we have everyone we can working on finding at least one quickly. It’s more complicated due to his blood type- we haven’t been able to find anything available nearby.”

YN sniffled, her nose stuffing up as water slipped down her cheeks. She bit down on her lip, hard enough to draw blood. The coppery taste coating her tongue.

It wasn’t supposed to go like this. It had been an easy mission- what did she screw up? Why did it have to be Sam? It should’ve been her, she should’ve-

Her eyes snapped up, meeting the doctor’s concerned features. She could still do something. It wasn’t too late. YN released her hold, wiping across her face. Erasing the remnants of her distress. Her bottom lip trembled but she forced the sentence out anyway.

“What’s the type?”

“He’s O positive.” The doctor didn’t hesitate in a response.

A heavy weight began to lift from her chest, she swallowed back the rough, scratchy feeling in her throat.

“I’m O negative- does that work, can that match? I’ll give whatever he needs.” Her words tripped over themselves, rushing out. Any way to compensate. She was the one who got Sam hurt, she was responsible. She should clean it up.

The doctor’s face brightened almost instantaneously, her eyebrows lifting. Eyes wide.

“It can-“ She cut herself off, pulling YN to her feet. “We need to run a tissue sample test to make sure that you’re compatible. While it’s running, fill out the paperwork just in case.”

YN rushed after the woman, hurrying through the hallways. She could save Sam. The guilt burned in her chest, sinking to meet the rising anxiety in her stomach. Creating a turbulent, vile mixture of self loathing. It had to match… this has to work. Otherwise… she would forever be known as the person who killed Sam Wilson.

~~~~~~

The first thing she became conscious of was a tense pressure on her hand. Then came a muted, muffled noise. It was familiar, albeit distorted and distant. A small groan fell from her lips. In response, the pressure became more intense. A firmer hold. Her eyes blinked open slowly, her head felt light, as if it was floating a thousand feet above her body.

“There she is.” YN turned her head as far as possible, which wasn’t much distance, eyes cutting the rest of the way. She tried to clear her vision, blinking to wear the groggy remnants of sleep away. “How you feelin’?”

“Like shit.” She groaned, throat scratchy and dry. Bucky released his hold, standing to pour a glass of water for her.

“Well, it’s to be expected.” He sighed, stepping closer to her bedside. He grasped her chin gently, angling the lip of the cup to her mouth. Tilting the glass slowly, allowing her time to swallow the water down greedily. “Unlike a major surgery cause, there’s no need to tell the people you love you’re having surgery. Especially not if it’s emergent.”

YN’s lips quirked at the corners. She hadn’t really been thinking of anyone but Sam in the moment. It all happened so fast, the whole day seemed to have been but a blur in her memory. She couldn’t recall details, her thoughts crashed against a hazy wall as she glimpsed back.

“Sorry… didn’t really know what was happening until it did.” She spoke slowly, words felt like molasses on her tongue. Bucky didn’t seem to mind, gently brushing her hair back before returning to his previous seat at her bedside. He pressed a soft kiss to her knuckles, giving a quick squeeze of reassurance.

“I understand…” He told her, a soft smile playing on his features. There was a melancholy glimmer in his irises. They betrayed him, as usual. “I was just scared that you… left.”

All Bucky had received was a phone call from the medical wing. Just that he was written down as YN LN’s emergency medical contact and that she had been in surgery. Granted, it had mainly been his fault- he didn’t listen any further for more details. The phone dropped from his hand and he bolted from their shared apartment. Rushing frantically toward her. Panic sloshing, ripping into his chest. Shredding his last hopes of sanity as his thoughts raced.

YN moved her fingers up to his wrist, the bass of his heartbeat thumped prominently into her own body. In response, Bucky’s fingers curled over her wrist, searching for the same feeling. It was slightly weakened, her heartbeat, but it was there. She was alive. A gentle, sleepy smile appeared on her lips. Eyes almost closed again.

“I’m never leaving.” She promised, applying pressure to his wrist. Bucky returned the smile and the gesture, the knot of emotion in his throat unraveling in steady increments. Allowing him to breathe easier.

He reached over, tugging her blankets back up with his free hand. Over her torso in an attempt to contain some of the heat the flimsy hospital sheets provided. He sniffed, clearing his throat. Turning his face away from her view.

“Get some rest, daredevil.” Bucky instructed, sliding his chair closer. Head resting beside their entwined hands. His blue eyes twinkled with tears he had kept bottled away. All YN wanted was to reach over and brush them away but she felt unconsciousness creeping up from behind. Waiting to drag her back into the darkness. Her mouth wouldn’t open, tongue wouldn’t move. Her eyes drifted closed; her last picture was Bucky’s beautiful face resting beside her.

~~~~~~

Bucky sighed gently, curling closer into the warmth she provided. They couldn’t sleep like they used to. He was accustomed to wrapping around her like a vine, keeping her body close to him. The weight, the pressure and warmth, kept him present. Kept him calm. Even if he awoke in a panic, which had eased in the past few months, the feeling of YN’s figure pressed to his always seemed to relieve his frazzled, frayed nerves.

But now, after the surgery, he couldn’t hold her the way he wanted. He couldn’t provide the comfort he craved to give her. And she needed it. He wasn’t blind. Bucky knew exactly why she had rushed into that surgery. The blame that she had placed on herself was too vast. Much too heavy for her to bear alone.

So he tried to convey the comfort in other ways. Helping her to the bathroom and to the shower. Making her meals and sitting with her while she ate. Reading to her, going through as many pages as it took for her to fall asleep. Keeping her distracted from her bed rest. Bringing her presents, mostly just notes that Sam had written and asked Bucky to deliver.

Sam didn’t blame her. Especially not after she saved his life like she did. Bucky had visited when he woke up, explained the situation. How she felt, how it was eating away at her. And he couldn’t get out of bed yet- he was still being heavily monitored by the medical staff. So, for the past few weeks he had resorted to video calls and notes to her. An attempt to cheer her up. Bucky was relieved to see it was working.

“Buck?” YN’s voice was muffled by their shared comforter. He hummed in response, not fully committed to the idea of waking up. His senses were still slightly dull, lulled into submission by the warm body at his side. “Your arm is really heavy and I really have to pee.”

Bucky grunted, shuffling to slide his arm away from her hips where it had lain. YN shimmied over to the edge of the bed, groaning as she pushed her weight over the side. She stumbled, her hand pressed to the gauze padding on her abdomen. Bucky scrambled out of the bed, sheets tangling around his ankles.

“You’re not suppose to do it on your own.” He grumbled, his tone was sleep- laden. His eyes weren’t even fully open yet. YN scoffed, accepting his arm anyway. Together, they crept toward the bathroom slowly, most of her weight against his side. “You coulda asked, doll.”

“I can handle going to the bathroom by myself, Bucky.” YN insisted, her side glare was fatal. Eyes narrowed and full of frustrated fury. “You don’t have to wait on me hand and foot.”

“But I want to.” He replied simply, leaning against the doorframe, gazing into the bedroom to give her privacy. He didn’t need to, he had already been witness to every inch of her skin. Every mark on her skin, every freckle and scar. But he figured she would appreciate it none the less. Give her a controllable amount of autonomy. “I like doing it.”

It was the honest truth. Bucky reveled in the fact that every ounce of his attention was placed on her and her alone. He liked to care for her. He liked making her coffee and meals, helping her up and down. It was something he knew the old Bucky did often. The old Bucky took care of Steve when he was sick, and Steve’s mother when he could help. When his sisters were under the weather. It was something engraved in his bones: caring for those he loved. Providing comfort.

“It’s rotten work.” YN’s voice was quiet, the running water almost drowned the words out. But Bucky heard them. He turned slowly, giving her a hand towel to dry her hands. Her eyes were down, staring at the fabric between her fingers. Taking her time, hoping he would move past her sentence.

“Not to me,” Bucky responded. His fingertip brushed against her cheekbone, wisps of her hair passing through his fingers. He tucked them gently behind her ear before tilting her chin up. Persuading her watery eyes to meet his. He smiled, the wrinkles around his eyes portraying the overflowing kindness he couldn’t vocalize. “Not if it’s you.”

YN chuckled, a weak smile on her lips. Shaking her head, she carefully shuffled forward. Wrapping her arms around his waist, pressing her face into his chest. Bucky’s response was instant. Instinctively holding her delicately to his body. Molded against the other. He inhaled deeply, the smell of her shampoo overwhelming his senses. YN pressed closer, the swell of his chest was achingly comforting. His t- shirt soft against her cheek.

“What do you say, I steal a wheelchair and we go up to Tony’s floor. We can bribe his chef to make some of those pancakes with the…” Bucky’s nose scrunched, brows furrowing. His fingertips that had been tracing shapes on her back stilled as he wracked his brain. Mouth twisting with frustration when he came up blank. “What’s the… those color things, again?”

“Sprinkles?” She suggested, pressing her chin to his chest. He glanced down, their noses almost pressed together. Bucky grinned, leaning forward to smack a kiss to her nose.

“Those. How bout we get some of those and we can meet Sam for breakfast?” He asked, squeezing her hips lightly. She nodded, successfully distracted from her thoughts that had been rampant in her head.

“Can he eat those yet? Isn’t he on, like, a hospital diet or something?” YN inquired, wrapping her arm around his waist.

Bucky hummed, helping her hobble out of the bathroom. He had tried carrying her places but she vehemently disagreed. Claiming she would never get better if she didn’t exercise. Eventually, as always, she would get tired and most of her weight would be on him anyways. He didn’t mind it.

“That sounds like a Sam problem.”

“You’re ridiculous, James Barnes.” He grinned at her laughter. His fingertips digging into her side teasingly.

“It’s all for you, sugar. All for you.”

[nanamixxkento]

Always (Nanami x Female Reader)

Rating: General

Content Warning: mentions of blood/injury.

Word Count: 2,827

A/N: I’m open for Nanami x Reader writing requests.

He was late.

It wasn’t uncommon for Nanami to work overtime but he’d never been this late. The hours ticked by sluggishly, until you were pacing your living room with your heart in your throat and your phone in your hand.

You knew something was wrong. You knew it when you didn’t receive his customary text to let you know he was heading out or working overtime today.

And now you felt it. He was not answering his phone.

The worry got the best of you.

Scrolling through your contacts, you sought out a different number.

“Hello?” Gojo answered on the third ring, nearly making your knees give.

“Gojo,” you breathed, voice wavering. “Thank god you picked up!”

“Y/N? Are you okay?” He immediately sounded concerned, no doubt hearing the anxiety in your voice. “Where are you?”

“I’m fine, I’m at home,” you quickly reassured. “But I don’t think Ken is. He’s late Gojo, he’s so late. And he’s not answering his phone and I haven’t heard from him all day.”

Gojo swore softly. “Give me five minutes, I’ll find out where he was sent and get back to you.”

You went back to pacing, now with a slightly more hopeful note in your chest. With Gojo on Kento’s case, surely you’d at least be able to relax knowing where he was.

However, another anxious thought found you before then. What if ... what if Kento was so hurt he couldn’t attend to his phone? What if he was dying?

Your breath hitched with oncoming tears. That couldn’t be happening. So lost in your grief you nearly jumped when your phone rang again.

“Yes?” You answered wobbly.

“Y/N, I know where he is. But I ... I’m not anywhere close, I can’t go check on him. I asked Ichiji to stop by and he’s on his way—“

“Where is he?” You demanded, now scared.

“Titan High, but it’s too dangerous, don’t you dare try to go there Y/N!”

It was too late, you’d already made up your mind. “Sorry, Gojo but I have to find my husband. Thank you for your help.”

“Y/N—!”

You ended the call, dashing to grab a coat and your keys. If Kento was hurt, if he was grievously injured, like hell you were going to sit around and wait for him to die or be rescued. You didn’t care what happened to you then, as long as you could be with him.

Outside, it was raining relentlessly, the skies the darkest grey. It rendered your vision awash with fuzzy colours but you couldn’t slow down, stomping the pedal and whizzing through the streets with your map giving instructions in the background.

Titan High was on the other side of the city, and you cursed everything alive and dead in the half-hour it took you to get there. It would seem you beat even Ichiji to the deserted location.

You stumbled out of your car, and rushed through the metal gate that was left ajar.

Immediately, you felt the lingering swirls of doom in the air as you drew closer to the doors. You noticed fallen chunks of concrete in the open field, and the deformed soccer goal post.

They were all signs of battle that made adrenaline course heavily through your veins. But if there was one thing you feared more than the invisible monsters Kento fought, it was losing him to said monsters.

You made it through the doors, ringing Kento again and again until you thought you heard the distant ring of his phone. It made you race for the staircase, breath puffing out rapidly and sweat beading on your forehead.

It was several degrees colder on the second floor. One wall was entirely blown out, several windows were completely shattered.

Traipsing through the crumbled wall into the classroom, the first thing you noticed was the dust still hanging in the air. The second thing you noticed was the absence of Kento. And finally, you fished out his cracked phone from under a toppled desk.

By now you were so frustrated and scared you could cry. You clutched his phone in a death grip, trying to breathe through the lump in your throat. He had to be nearby.

This time, you threw your reservations out of the window, opened your mouth and screamed his name over and over hoping he would answer.

Your feet carried you to the third and final floor where more signs of battle left the corridor with dents in the metal doors and shattered floor tiles. You struggled through the wreckage, the dust making you cough until finally you arrived at a broken down supply closet.

The yellow light bulb flickered eerily, casting out just enough light to see a heap on the ground.

“Kento!” You cried, falling to your knees by his bleeding figure.

He was propped up against the metal closet, a wad of tissue paper curled to his bleeding side.

He stirred at your voice, blinking slowly. “Hmm, Y/N?” His blood stained fingers pumped your cheek lightly, and he frowned. “Huh.”

Awareness seemed to slam into him moments later as he made the connection that you were real, and actually crouched there with him in the closet. “Wait—“ he struggled to righten himself, breathing strained and you lurched forward to help him. “What are you doing here? How did you get here? Have you lost your mind!”

He wheezed slightly, his hand clutched his side again as small rivulets of blood trickled out through the tissues.

You looked around wildly for anything to use to stifle his bleeding and got up to rummage through the closet and shelves until you found small packaged towels and rags.

“Please don’t talk,” you pled, distantly aware of the tears streaming down your face as you ripped open package after package and replaced the tissue with the towels.

He hissed as you pressed down on his wound, making your heart twist in your chest. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” you sobbed. “We have to stop the bleeding, please just— please hang in there. Ichiji should be here any minute.”

Kento clumsily used the back of his shaking knuckles to wipe your tears. “Hey,” he attempted, still sounding pained. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean ... to yell at you ... you’re okay ... please don’t cry.”

Ichiji found you several minutes later, still crouched over Kento who was thankfully bleeding less now with you there to apply pressure on his wound.

He paled considerably at the sight of the both of you covered in blood, your eyes puffy from tears and Kento’s squeezed shut.

It took the strength of both you and Ichiji to help manoeuvre Kento down three flights of stairs and finally to the backseat of Ichiji’s car.

“To the hospital Ichiji, quickly,” you said, crowding against Kento’s side to press on his wound again.

Half-way through your trip, Gojo called, sounding a little wild over the speakers. “Ichiji, tell me those idiots didn’t get themselves killed!”

“G-Gojo-san,” Ichiji swallowed thickly. “We’re on our way to the hospital—“

“—the hospital?!”

“—because Nanami-san is injured—“

“HOW INJURED?”

Ichiji was sweating bullets now, nervously flexing his fingers over the steering wheel. He’d never heard Gojo-san shouting before and it made him incredibly nervous. “We ... we don’t know yet.”

“Your location, now, Ichiji,” Gojo’s voice came out calmer with a hint of steel underlying it.

“Y-yes, sir!”

“Did you run into Y/N? I swear if something happens to her, Nanami will have me castrated.” Gojo muttered darkly. “Make sure she’s safe, Ichiji, you got that?”

“She’s um, she’s here with me and she can hear you,” Ichiji offered meekly but Gojo had already ended the call.

Silence flooded the car again, but for Kento's harsh, wheezing breaths.

You used your free hand to stroke through the damp wisps of his hair, tugging comfortingly at the crown of his head. “Ken, you have to stay awake,” you told him regrettably, tugging gently at his hair again. “Stay with me.”

He made a soft groaning noise but his eyes cracked open.

“That’s it,” you encouraged, barely managing to hold back a second wave of tears. “Focus on my voice.”

You talked to him about the trip you were organising for next month, where you planned to go, and all the ridiculous endeavours you vowed to pull him into. By the time you reached the hospital, he was struggling to keep his eyes open for a second longer but by then a squad of nurses with a stretcher rushed to his side and you felt some relief wash over you.

You were checked in too, even when you insisted all the blood wasn’t yours, but the elderly nurse in charge gave you one stern look and hooked you to an IV.

Ichiji stayed by your side, shuffling nervously and gulping at every sudden noise, no doubt fearing the appearance of Gojo.

When Gojo appeared an hour later, Ichiji did indeed jump a foot in the air. “G-G-Gojo-san! You made it!”

At least he wasn’t shouting, but something about his expression looked distinctly foreboding. “You,” he pointed a finger at you. “Are an utter idiot!”

You gave him a sheepish look but made no apologies whatsoever.

“What if Nanami hadn’t exorcised the curse, huh? You could’ve died.” He huffed, leaning his long limbs against the wall. “And then I would’ve had to spend the rest of my life avoiding him. Sheesh.”

You shrugged stiff shoulders. “You couldn’t have stopped me.”

“That’s because you’re as stubborn as him!” Gojo said. “And as dumb as him,” he pointed viciously at Ichiji who shuddered.

“I gave you one job,” he told Ichiji. “One. How the hell did she beat you to it?”

Ichiji was looking throughly chastised, sweating profusely with his gaze locked on the floor.

You used your foot to lightly kick Gojo’s ankle. “Stop bullying him,” you said. “It’s not his fault.”

Gojo huffed again, but heeded your wish.

A couple of hours later, you were allowed to see Kento when he finally awoke from his surgery. Gojo and Ichiji lingered awkwardly at the door while you dashed to his side to take his hand and pepper his face with grateful kisses.

Kento wrinkled his nose slightly at you but he was smiling. “Kisses won’t make me less mad at you for putting yourself in danger, Y/N,” he scolded, albeit gently.

“Shut up and accept my love,” you said unfalteringly, earning a laugh from Gojo who finally wandered into the room after you.

“Don’t they just warm the cold cockles of your heart?” He sighed fondly to Ichiji.

“You’re not off the hook either,” Kento threw him a mild glare. “I know you told her where to find me.”

Gojo cleared his throat and ignored him. “I think the moral of today is that we’re all alive. And that’s what we should be talking about. Of course that and the fact that Y/N called you her husband.”

You jolted, flushing as you realised that you did indeed call him that in the heat of the moment earlier.

It was easy to forget sometimes when you and Kento already shared everything. You’d been living together for years, you’d even discussed kids.

You cleared your throat awkwardly. “I think the true moral of today,” you said, “is that Jujutsu sorcerers should never be sent out on solo missions. And you really should invest in some location trackers and an earpiece.”

“Mhmmmm,” Gojo hummed slyly and clapped his hands. “Well now that the lovebirds are reunited, Ichiji and I will see ourselves out, right Ichiji?”

“Yes, sir,” Ichiji yelped, slinking out of the room immediately.

Gojo’s smile was satisfied but it quickly morphed into a serious expression as he gazed at the both of you through his blindfold. “I’m glad you’re okay, Nanami. And Y/N,  if you weren’t, I might have had to bring you back to life just to kill you for being an idiot.”

“Yeah, yeah, we love you too Gojo,” you smirked teasingly at him and waved him out.

The exhaustion of tonight’s events were beginning to catch up with you. It was nearing three in the morning and all you wanted was to curl into Kento’s warmth and catch a few hours of rest.

He cleared his throat softly and scooted over. “Come on sleepy head,” he patted the space next to him. “Get in.”

You smiled gratefully as you slid into the cosy space beside him and carefully rested your head on his chest.

The lights overhead dimmed a few minutes later to a hushed warm colour that engulfed the room with shadows.

Kento stroked your hair lightly, his breathing soft but not yet asleep. “I’m sorry I worried you,” he murmured quietly, just as you were beginning to wonder if he was finally falling asleep.

“Ken,” you chided gently. “Go to sleep. There’s nothing to apologise for.”

He hummed contemplatively. “I knew what I was signing up for with this job,” he sighed. “But it never gets easier. Especially that I have you now.”

It wasn’t like Kento didn’t know your true feelings about his occupation. You supported him in everything he did, but that didn’t mean you had to like it. Constantly risking his life would never be something you agreed with.

“I know,” you sighed too, tracing feathery circles over his chest. “It’s not easy for me either. So you can’t blame me for what I did today, okay? Losing you is not an option, I don’t care what your job description entails.”

He squeezed your shoulder lightly, as if to acknowledge your words. “I promise I’ll always come home to you ... even if it means you might occasionally have to haul my ass there yourself.”

You cracked a smile and felt it mirrored against your temple as he pressed a gentle kiss to your brow. “That’s fine by me,” you declared and snuggled closer to him.

Silence descended again but for your rhythmic breathing and the warm thudding of his heart under your ear.

It was a much-needed peace after the storm. He was alive and breathing and in your arms, and you couldn’t have wished for anything more.

“Y/N,” he said a while later, stirring you from the first stages of falling asleep. His thumb was fluttering lightly over your cheekbone, and you suspected the innocent strokes were what was lulling you to sleep.

“Hmm?”

“Did you really call me your husband?”

A wave of butterflies, nerves and surprise cleanly banished any lingering sleep from your system. You attempted a calm, matter-of-fact tone. “Yes.”

You felt the ghost of his smile again. “Was it by accident?”

“Maybe,” you admitted, your cheeks warming. “Does it matter?”

“Maybe,” he echoed and you heard the light humour in his tone. “What if it matters to me to know whether you think of me that way?”

You swallowed. “Well ... we’ve been together for years now. I don’t see myself with anyone else and if it won’t be you, then it won’t be anyone. For me at least.”

The thumb on your cheek brushed lower to hook just under your jawline and tilt your head up. You looked up at him and were startled by the adoring look on his face. “It’ll always be you for me,” he said and pressed your lips together.

You melted under the loving ministrations of his mouth, your heart racing and racing. Everything always seemed too good to be true with Kento, even the overflowing affection in your chest.

Cradling his cheek in your palm, you pressed closer to him, lips lingering together for a long, wonderfully charged moment.

When he pulled back he was smiling faintly, but his eyes were serious. “Do you understand why it matters to me to know?”

You bit your lips shyly. “Well ... a girl can hope ... that it means you like it?”

He chuckled. “Close. Very close.”

“Okay, then tell me,” you pressed your thumb to his lips and tried to resist your smile as you felt his own grow under your touch.

“It means ...” he began slowly, letting the tension mount. “That I do like it of course ... but that I only like it because I feel the same way Y/N. I’ve been planning to ask you. I won’t now, not like this. But I will, soon. And when I do, I’ll hope your answer is yes... I’ll always hope your answer will be yes to me.”

Blinking away a tear, you buried your face in his throat and let out a shuddering breath. “Yes,” you said unequivocally, and cuddled closer to him.

He pressed his face into your hair and smiled. “Sleep?”

“Yes,” you said again, smiling wobbly.

“Do you love me?” He teased.

“Yes.” You replied fervently. “Yes, yes, yes.”

His palm pressed over the back of your head and held you closer, sighing contentedly. “I love you, too sweetheart. Always.”

[fleetingpieces]

Playing with the stars

What if Remus didn’t get injured and was drafted to play for the Dallas Stars?

This is a very self indulgent piece cause happy-sportsman-Remus pretty much lives rent free in my brain.

I’m fairly new to hockey and very much in love with it, but sorry in advance if there’s anything not hockey-accurate!

Once again, thank you Jazzy @inloveoknutzy for beta-ing this! <3 You’re amazing

And the beautiful world building and OCs belong to the amazing @lumosinlove Thank you so much for such a great story <3

CW: mentions of past abuse and mild spice.

Sirius Black was not a clumsy person. He was fearless, dedicated, precise and ruthless against his adversaries.

At least, that’s how he usually behaved.

Today however, Sirius was just stepping on the ice, glancing around the rink, when his eyes landed on a familiar player on the other end and he slipped. Sirius cursed as he grabbed onto the boards to prevent a fall, mentally slapping himself. He was never like this. And he already knew the man would be there, so why was he even surprised? Of course he was there. They were facing his team after all.

It was the first game the Lions would play against the Dallas Stars this season, but Sirius wasn’t sure if he was ready for it. Every game against the Stars was torture, and it had nothing to do with them being insanely good. Sirius liked that part actually, it meant he had to really push himself to beat them.

No, his problem came in the form of one very fit Remus Lupin.

Sirius hadn’t actually, properly seen Remus play in a couple of months, and the impact was even greater because of that. He watched as Loops skated effortlessly on his half of the rink doing warm ups. The way his body moved as he glided through the ice, his muscles flexing underneath his uniform, and the glint in his eyes were enough to take Sirius’ breath away.

Of course, everyone knew who Remus was. First draft, golden boy, star rookie a few years back. Sirius was slightly embarrassed of how well acquainted he was with the man’s career. He’d watched his every game since Loops had started playing for the NHL, and when he was alone in his house he would sometimes watch his old tapes, even though he would never admit that to anyone.

There was a loud clunk from one of the goalposts when Remus took a hard slap shot, and Sirius cursed again. His lithe body seemed to flow over the white surface, his stick an extension of his arm with how confidently he wielded it, and that fiercely joyful smile. Damn that smile. Sirius could only stare as Tyler Seguin went over and crashed into Remus, grabbing him into a headlock and saying something that sent the man laughing.

How the fuck was Sirius supposed to focus on the game with something so beautiful right there?

Shaking his head, Sirius went the other way with a frown etched on his face. 

“What are you so grumpy about?” said Pots as he went past him.

“It’s nothing,” Sirius replied. He leaned over his knees and breathed slowly, before slapping hard on his thighs once and setting his eyes on the thing that mattered right then. The puck.

And if there were a pair of amber eyes following his movements from the other end of the rink at that exact moment, he didn’t really notice.

The puck dropped not too long after and the game started. Sirius was first line and won the face off, swiftly passing the puck to Finn, who took it all the way to the Stars net where Dobby was ready for him. Before he could do anything else though, Loops cut his way and stole the puck from right under his feet. Sirius found himself staring in awe as Remus dribbled past one of their defensemen, before he snapped out of it and turned quickly to give chase.

“What the hell was that, Cap?” Pots shouted a few feet ahead of him. Sirius could almost hear the smirk in his tone.

He grumbled but did not lose sight of the puck in front of him. Those two seconds of distraction had been enough for Remus to reach their defensive zone; the way he teared up the ice was ridiculous. He took the shot, but it went straight into Kasey's glove.

Well, that was a way to kick start the game.

“Yeah, Bliz!” Finn congratulated, tapping his helmet.

When it was time for the first change, Sirius sat down heavily as Dumo’s line went out. He clasped his hands together between his knees, with his head bowed down. He had to focus. This was no time to admire what a great player Loops was. Or how obscenely good he looked in his gear.

The Lions knew him to be the dedicated, focused captain of the team, not this silly mess of a man who couldn’t take his eyes off another man from the opposite team. No, there was too much at stake for him to lose it like this. It didn’t matter that his friends knew he was gay, he couldn’t just flaunt it in front of the cameras and the wild crowd. 

He owed it to his team to get it together. He started picking up the pace after that, slowly falling into that absolute-hockey headspace, but still he felt that he couldn’t play his usual game. He kept getting slightly distracted for short periods of time, and by the end of the first period he felt incredibly frustrated with himself. It was mainly thanks to his teammates’ skills that the score was still tied 0-0.

He made his way back to the locker room behind them all, admonishing his own behaviour and telling himself he would do better in the second part of the game. He was so focused on his internal rant that he barely noticed Dumo falling into step beside him, and jumped when he placed a hand on his shoulder.

There was a knowing smile on his face that Sirius wanted to wipe off, but his tone was kind as he spoke, albeit slightly teasing.

“Mon fils, if you want to stare you have my full support, but perhaps we should focus on the game now, non?”

With that he chuckled, squeezed his shoulder and entered the locker room ahead of him.

Sirius took a second to stand outside the door, smiling at how simple and easy it was to talk about it with Dumo. The man was like family, a good kind of family. He’d taken him in and protected him against Sirius’ own mother, he’d given him a real home. It was such a Dumo thing to do, talk about his biggest secret as if it was the most normal thing in the world; Sirius could only shake his head as he followed behind him.

“Damn that Lupin!” was the first thing he heard as he stepped in. Finn was in the middle of complaining while making big gestures with his hands, and Logan and Leo were staring at him with fond, amused smiles on their faces. “It’s like every time you turn around he’s there! It’s insane how fast that man is.”

Talker came over then and slapped Sirius on the back.

“Don’t feel too bad Cap. He’s a beautiful man; sometimes I also find myself getting distracted by him.” At Sirius’ raised eyebrow, he added, “I stare with respect.”

He said it with a completely straight face, but Sirius saw the mirth dancing in his eyes. Some of the guys around laughed, adding a few comments of their own to the friendly banter. Sirius wasn’t sure what he’d done to deserve such an amazing team. Although the last thing he needed right now was to keep on thinking about Remus, so he tuned them out until Coach came in to go over their strategy.

Second period started in a similar way than the first had, only the pressure had increased. The players were marking each other more tightly, the puck kept going from the Stars’ zone to the Lion’s, and there had been no shots on goal so far.

Halfway through, the whistle blew as one of the referees called an offside on Dallas, and both teams skated over for the face off. As Sirius was getting closer, Loops skated in his direction, locking eyes with him as he circled behind him, and Sirius had to will his body not to jump when Remus started talking with his mouth close to Sirius’ ear.

“I wonder what got the great Captain Sirius Black so distracted?” he said in a playful tone, and Sirius didn’t have to look to know he was smiling.

He was taunting him, the bastard, and fuck if that didn’t ignite a fire inside Sirius’ body.

“Worry about losing your own focus Lupin, or you’ll end up biting the ice,” he replied in the same tone, and was rewarded with a soft chuckle.

If Remus wanted to play like that, Sirius would give him a performance to remember. It was a challenge, Sirius could feel his body thrumming with the adrenaline of it as he finally relaxed completely and played the way he was supposed to from the start.

Sirius managed to change the rhythm of the game with a fast pass he sent Pots’ way, that ended up being the first goal; then Logan scored another one right before the second intermission, setting the team’s spirits on a high. But then Remus scored two incredibly gorgeous goals in the third period that left Sirius slightly light headed.

They were tied.

And right now Sirius was having an internal battle as well as the one going on by the boards, as he and Loops fought for the puck, their bodies close together and Remus’ witty chirps in the air. It was taking all of Sirius’ years of discipline to keep his head in the game.

“Oh hey, you finally decided to come out to play?” Remus said as he bumped into him from behind and Sirius had to bite back a laugh, before spinning around and lightly sending Remus against the boards in retaliation.

“Look alive, Lupin!”

With barely two minutes left on the clock, Sirius managed to get the puck across to Talker, skated behind the net to position himself on the other side of the rink, shook off two defensemen as the puck headed his way again, and immediately whipped it into the goal, making the horn blare.

Screams and cheers erupted all over as the whole team crashed into him. They won, but it had been a very close call.

Nonetheless, it was over now and Sirius could go back to his hotel room and be alone for a bit. And probably watch some tape. The guys were going to grab food on the way, so Sirius excused himself to go lie down and whack himself for being such a klutz during the first half of the game. He was sure it would become easier with time, today he’d just been less prepared than he’d thought he was, and he vowed to make it better.

Just as he was heading outside through the empty hallway, a door opened and he turned around to see Lupin and Seguin coming out of their own locker room, and the sight was just a bit too much for Sirius right then.

Remus was in his game suit, his hair wet from the shower, with a stray curl falling on his forehead that Sirius desperately wanted to brush off. He was once more laughing at something Seguin had said, which made Sirius frown as he turned away, shoving his hands in his pockets.

There was nothing he could do about it, he wanted too many things that he couldn’t have.

Once he was outside, having escaped through the back door that led to the parking lot, he leaned against a wall before he lit up a cigarette and took a few long hauls, closing his eyes for a few minutes.

“Hey,” a voice said beside him and Sirius almost jumped out of his skin.

“Fuck, are you a ninja or something?” Sirius asked, bringing a hand to his heart, still holding the cigarette. He hadn’t heard Remus coming out.

Loops grinned as he came to stand right next to Sirius, but then his eyes focused on the cigarette on his hand and he lifted an eyebrow.

“Does your PT know that you smoke?”

“No, and there’s no need for him to know. I only smoke when I’m stressed.”

“What are you stressed about? You were amazing out there.”

“Not in the first period,” Sirius mumbled as he took another drag, but Remus heard him.

“And why is that?” he asked with a smirk, taking a step closer.

Sirius huffed in exasperation.

“Fuck Re, do you know how hot you look out there? Did you really have to make it that hard on me?” he lifted an eyebrow at the innuendo, which only made Remus’ wolfish grin go wider.

“Hmm. You didn’t expect me to go easy on you just because we’re dating, right?”

Remus placed a hand on the wall next to Sirius’ head, guarded by the darkness of the parking lot, and looked at him straight in the eye. The golden flecks in Remus’ irises seemed to have a light of their own, and Sirius could only stare, transfixed, as Remus’ long fingers reached up to snatch the cigarette right from between his lips and placed it in his own mouth. Without breaking eye contact, he took a slow drag and exhaled to the side before stubbing the fag against the wall.

“Hey!”

Remus’ hand came to rest on the other side of Sirius’ head, and he pressed their chests together, slotting his thigh between Sirius’.

“Y’know, if it was that hard on you,” he punctuated by pressing his thigh down ever so slightly, smiling as a whine sounded at the back of Sirius’ throat, “there are other ways to help you relax,” he said with a tilt of his head, before he ducked down to suck on Sirius’ neck.

“I...Re...”

“You’re not flying back to Gryffindor tomorrow, right?” Remus whispered against the skin just under his ear, pulling a breathy “No” out of Sirius that sounded more like a moan. “Good. I can stay with you all night then, yeah?” he added before he scraped his teeth against Sirius’ ear lobe, and Sirius had to blink a few times to clear his fuzzy head.

"I...quoi?" He had to resist the urge to slap himself. Use your words, Black.  “I mean...what?” Oh yeah, much better.

Remus leaned back just enough to look at him with a smile, tucking Sirius’ hair behind his ear.

“Will you be missed if I take you home?” he said in an amused tone, tilting his head in a way that was so adorable Sirius had to fight to keep another whine in.

“I thought you had a team dinner you couldn’t miss.” Sirius hesitated before continuing, “Isn’t it too risky for us to do this?”

“No,” Remus said immediately. Then, after a short pause, “I mean, I do, and it is, but...I haven’t seen you in almost a month, Pads. I...I missed you.”

Sirius’ heart melted. It’d been hard on both of them since the season had started; their tight training schedules and the fact that they lived in different cities didn’t allow them much time together. Being apart from Remus felt like being off balance, like his world was tilted to the side, and it had only settled on its right edge the moment Sirius had gone on the rink today and laid eyes on Remus again.

Sirius cupped Remus’ cheek, and the other man pressed against his touch, closing his eyes as a fond smile slowly made its way through his face.

“What?” Sirius asked.

“Do you remember that first time I asked you out?”

Sirius was surprised into silence for a few seconds, before he got what Remus was thinking about and he huffed a laugh.

Of course he remembered.

They had been in a very similar situation to the one they were in now, but still, so many things had changed.

The Lions had been playing against Dallas too on that day, only they were at Hogwarts stadium, with their chance at the playoffs at stake. And Sirius’ parents had been there.

Their words, their hard looks, Walburga’s hand digging into his shoulder...it had all been too much and Sirius had found himself spiralling down into the scared, closed off boy he’d used to be before he’d started playing with the Lions. Before he’d been accepted into a real team, a real family.

At that moment, all he could think about was pressure, reputation, and secrets.

He couldn’t let his parents find out. He couldn’t let his friends find out. And then, after the game, he’d been alone at the parking lot trying to get his breathing under control, ripping a leaflet to pieces when a soft hand was placed on top of his, and Sirius had looked up to concerned amber eyes.

To the one person he was supposed to avoid at all costs.

Remus had removed his hand from Sirius’, taking what was left of the paper from him and throwing it in the bin in the corner.

“Hey! I was using that!”

“What for?” He’d sounded genuinely curious, which confused Sirius as they were cordial with each other but they weren’t really friends.

Staring ahead, Sirius had avoided looking him in the eye as he ran a hand through his hair.

“There was something on my mind.”

“Hmm,” Remus hummed.

Sirius had glanced to his side and found Remus staring at him straight in the eye, before the other man stuffed his hands in his pockets and leaned on the wall beside him.

“Are you free?”

“Hm?” Sirius asked absentmindedly. He’d been too busy staring at the way Remus’ shoulders strained against his shirt to register what had been said.

The corners of Remus’ mouth turned up in a sweet smile, making Sirius’ breath stop completely. He couldn’t help but think he was gorgeous. 

“Are you free right now or do you have somewhere to be?”

“Oh. No, I’m done for the evening,” Sirius said, confused as to where that had come from.

“Well then, wanna go grab dinner?”

“I...what?” Sirius was perplexed. He’d not been expecting that.

“Dinner. With me,” Remus said, amused. What was going on? Was this...was Remus flirting with him? No, that couldn’t be it; Loops was known to be one of the most caring players out there, he’d probably seen that Sirius was struggling with something and just wanted to help. But even if that was it, he was not about to turn the man down.

“I...yeah. Yeah, I would like that,” Sirius said as a small smile spread over his face.

When Remus gave him a happy grin of his own, eyes shining bright, Sirius’ stomach had done a flip, and he’d known he was totally, and absolutely fucked.

He felt his body tingle just like it had back then when Remus trailed his fingers along his jaw, bringing him back to the present.

“Yeah, I remember,” Sirius placed his hands on Remus’ cheeks and kissed him, slow and steady, making Remus sigh and sag against him as he talked between kisses, never letting their lips part further than an inch. “You were so cute. And sweet. I was so fucking surprised that you asked me out, but I didn’t dare believe you actually wanted...well, me.”

Remus laughed, nudging at Sirius’ nose with his own. 

“How could I not want you? Did you look at you? Do you know how sweet, caring and amazing you are?”

Sirius groaned as he nipped at the other man’s bottom lip, making him jump in surprise. He let his fingers run among the wild tawny curls, pulling at them slightly at the back of Remus’ neck. Remus let his head fall back, and instantly felt Sirius’ mouth on the soft skin under his jaw, trailing warm open-mouth kisses until he reached his collarbone.

“Re,” he whispered, feeling his boyfriend’s chest rising and falling in short shallow breaths.

“Yeah?”

“Please take me home.”

[wlw-lovestruck-fiction]

“Vivienne x Mc, where Mc gets injured and falls unconscious and later Vivienne taking care?“

Pairing with:

Mc x Vivienne - QoT Mc was really close to an explosion during a heist, causing her to permanently loss her hearing. You can include the other members too because I want to see how will they handle future heist when one of their has been injured, how does Vivienne react? Will she let mc continue or not? And how does mc feel? Does she feel she cannot as much as before lost her hearing?

HEY... how do you think Vivienne would deal with a deaf MC? im deaf myself 😳😳 headcanons work if they're easier!

QOT MC gets caught up in the blast from one of Jett’s explosives, and now has severe burns acrros her face and other parts of her body along with slight deafness. Could I get a fic of Vivienne comforting her, and telling her she’s still beautiful? Thanks!

…

Warning: Writer’s first time writing a hard of hearing character.

TW: Panic attacks. Mentions of injury. Mentions of scarring.

Introspection-heavy fic.

…

The explosion was one of Jett’s finest work up to date.

Vivienne could feel it rattle her very bones, even though she was quite a distance away. The building crumbled easily and readily, becoming nothing but a sour-tasting memory. She nodded approvingly, letting out a small sigh in relief. There it went, up in smoke, all the incriminating evidence Benicio had gathered on them. And, as a bonus, most of his fake career.

“Ha! That was amazing!” Jett laughed, his voice bright with happiness, high with adrenaline. The rest of the Poppy soon joined in, albeit in less boisterous chuckles.

Coming down from the building she was in was child’s play. She abandoned Benicio’s unconscious body for the authorities to find, humming to herself as she made her way over to Leon, just barely paying attention to the conversation of the rest of the Poppy.

It doesn’t take long for her to notice that something is wrong. That something is missing.

She balances on top of the balcony she’s on, dread creeping over her body like lead, making her feel sluggish.

“Has anyone heard MC?”

The idle chatter stops. Vivienne can feel the shift in the atmosphere, can practically hear it become tense and chilly.

Amidst the muttered ‘no’ of the rest of the members, Zoe’s voice sounds surprisingly clear, a tinge of panic and worry that makes Vivienne lurch forward, desperate to reach the ground. “I lost her signal. Something must have happened!”

“But Benicio is out cold this time-”

“Nadia backed off, right? She couldn’t have-”

“And there is no way Francesca would-”

“Maybe,” Jett’s voice sounds hesitant, an echo of his usual self. “She got… caught by the explosion.”

Remy scoffs. “There’s no way that could have happened, MC knew the dangers!”

“Keep an eye out for the police, Zoe. We need to look for her,” Nikolai commanded, his voice as cold and hard as steel, immediately cutting through the panicked chatter.

Vivienne lets her teammates handle the distractions to stall the police a bit longer, her mind set only on making sure MC was all right. She hadn’t felt so frightened since everything that happened with Isadora, and she refused to let anything even remotely similar happen again. She couldn’t lose anyone precious to her. She couldn’t. One more person, and her soul would have been shattered beyond repair.

Not to mention, the whole issue with Benicio was her fault in the first place. If MC got hurt… god, if she got hurt…

“Ambulance! Can someone call an ambulance?”

Her head whipped around, eyes wide. There was a man shouting desperately a few meters away, making frantic motions to something behind him. Mouth dry, Vivienne relayed the situation to the rest of the Poppy. Her legs felt like jelly. She wondered if she’d crumble into an unrepairable mess when she got close enough, but no such thing happened. She moved forward as if possessed, dropping to her knees near two bodies. One was a small child, and the other was MC, cradling the child as if she was trying to protect him from the entire world.

They were both unconscious. Vivienne’s eyes trailed MC’s exposed skin, painted an angry red down to its very core, from her left shoulder down to her thigh. Her clothes were ruined, charred beyond recognition, sticking to MC’s body like a second skin. Vivienne’s first instinct is to throw her cape over her, just to cover the burns. Her hands are shaking so bad it proves to be quite the difficult task.

The child MC is holding seems fine, his burns less severe than MC’s, which eases Vivienne’s worry somewhat.

Jett was right. She had been caught up in the explosion.

…

“I had to pull a lot of favors to erase our trail, but at least the police won’t find us for a while. We can lay low while MC recovers.” Zoe informed them, a few nights later, exhaustion sipping from her like water out of a waterfall. Nikolai is in a similar state, sitting near Zoe by the couch, one hand covering his face and the other gripping his knee so tightly his knuckles are almost white.

“And the boy’s father?”

“He’s been trying to locate MC, but I don’t think we should worry about him. As for the boy, he’s much better than MC. His hearing wasn’t as affected, either. She really saved him…”

“Then again, if it hadn’t been for him, MC wouldn’t be like this in the first place.” Vivienne icily mutters, tightening her hold over her glass of wine. Nikolai and Zoe just give her a glance, too tired to pick a fight with her. “If he hadn’t rushed in recklessly-”

“He was scared, Viv.” Remy says, from somewhere in the kitchen. “He wasn’t thinking clearly.”

Vivienne’s scowl deepens. “Yes, but who runs into danger? You’d think the fire alarm would have gotten him to run the other way.”

“Someone who didn’t know there was going to be an explosion, that’s who.”

The seductress growls, a dark expression over her face, bitter frustration raging inside her like a chemical reaction about to explode. It just doesn’t make sense. Everything that boy had done that day was simply moronic, and MC – the angel she was, putting others before herself as she often did – had suffered dearly for it. The burns would leave scarring, no doubt; they had become angry red lines and spots that Vivienne mapped with a careful touch every time she had to apply the ointment the doctor had recommended. She had to watch how MC flinched at the contact, how she bit back a cry of pain, hiding it behind a shuddering smile and glistering brown eyes.

Vivienne couldn’t stop thinking about her expression. About how everything had changed, suddenly and without warning, all because of a boy. She can’t help but think about what Remy says and seethe in anger at the sheer absurdity of the boy’s actions, but she decides to stay quiet. The last thing the team needs is another fight.

Zoe speaks again after a few moments, voice soft.

“How is Jett?”

“He hasn’t left MC’s side,” Vivienne answers, after taking a deep breath. “His guilt is practically eating him alive.”

Zoe gives the couch a mournful, exhausted look, but gets to her feet nonetheless. “I’ll go check on him.”

No one blames Jett.

Ever since she had regained consciousness, MC’s sole focus had been on him. Vivienne didn’t mind. It felt relieving to walk inside her room and find them close, enjoying life, doing Art Club activities or laughing over some funny meme. Or, well, trying to. Jett’s laugh was muted, worried, tinted with sadness and regret; it was a sound that haunted Vivienne wherever she went, something that mirrored her own conflicted feelings. MC’s laugh was restrained and also wistful and a little distant. Sometimes she grimaced in the middle of it, her happiness crumbling in a burning flash of pain that made Vivienne’s heart clench and drop.

But they were trying. They were doing their best.

They would get through this. They all would.

…

Changes are inevitable. MC stands through it all like a stubborn rock holding its ground against a current, taking everything in stride. Vivienne had always found the artist fascinating, a fantastic enigma that Vivienne had foolishly thought she had cracked a long time ago.

MC always surprised her. After everything, Vivienne couldn’t help but feel awed by her. True, the first few weeks were hard, but MC had accepted her condition sooner rather than later, while Vivienne still cautiously danced around it, not sure what to think or feel or do.

MC had lost 65% percent of her hearing due to the explosion. Her left ear was slightly better, only at 50%, but the doctor had warned them she would lose more as the years went by. And while Vivienne had once again thrown herself into a bitter spiral of resentment against the boy, that damned boy, MC had pursed her lips with a determined expression and thrown herself into learning sign language and working around everything.

Everyone had agreed early on that MC couldn’t participate in heists anymore. She’d still be their forger, of course, but she’d stay with Zoe when the heist was underway.

“It’d be too dangerous,” MC had admitted, distractedly playing with the hem of her black jacket. She had this solemn look in her eyes, hollow and heavy with resignation, but it wasn’t defeated. It had this quiet intensity to it, like a volcano about to erupt; no one had dared to say anything as she explained. “I can’t even tell where sounds come from anymore, so I wouldn’t react properly to a threat.”

Vivienne couldn’t really wrap her mind around it. MC had described sounds as muted, fuzzy, distant, as if there was a giant wall of glass between her and the world, and on top of it she was underwater. Sounds simply became a cacophony in the background, nothing for MC to really pick apart. It was disorienting, at first, mostly because Vivienne hadn’t really fully processed everything yet.

Sometimes she would turn towards MC with her usual flair and dramas, all but spinning on the chair of her vanity like the typical movie villain, only to find MC engrossed on her work and not aware at all of the dramatic sigh Vivienne had delivered not two seconds ago. That was, perhaps, the biggest change. It didn’t take long for Vivienne to get used to it, no, but there had been something special in calling MC’s name from across the room and watching her reaction unfurl, be it an amused smirk or a heated stare.

MC carried on, not considering her hearing loss a disability at all. It made things different, but not impossible, something Vivienne had irrationally feared in the beginning. She loved MC and everything that entailed, be it scarring or hearing loss or grumpiness or that annoyingly stubborn personality of hers. There was no in-between, no extremes. There weren’t moments where Vivienne had loved her more or less. One day she had woken up to realize she had fallen hopelessly in love and she had never quite managed to get back up after that.

So these changes? Vivienne would accept them. Welcome them. No matter what.

…

The hearing aids helped. A bit.

MC had put them on, frowned for a second, and then beamed at Vivienne saying: “Oh, I can tell your voice apart from all the sounds now!” And that was it. No magically being able to hear everything again, no magically being able to pick apart the words. There was just a vague tone piercing a muted world, an anchor making lip-reading easier, but nothing else. Zoe had looked. Oh, how had she looked, but that was it. Everyone had accepted that. MC was just happy to her their voices again, however fuzzy they were.

Now, Vivienne could actually come sashaying into the room and call out to MC, and MC would look up and search for her – she still had a hard time telling where the sounds came from – and then roll her eyes with a fond smile at her girlfriend’s antics.

Something Vivienne had discovered about hard of hearing people: they listened. No, really. Somebody else would be distracted by something that happened around them, or would look at their phone or watch or hands or anything else before rejoining the conversation. Small things, really. MC didn’t do those anymore. Her attention was solely focused on whoever was speaking, watching their lips, interpreting their words. Or watching the signs, the body language, everything she could do to figure out what was going on and answer accordingly.

It was only at night that MC confided how difficult and exhausting and frustrating lip-reading was. The Poppy made an effort to sign, they had all gotten quite good at SSE, but sometimes they would go out and encounter somebody that didn’t know how to sign or somebody that wasn’t aware of what had happened to MC. It was all sort of situations, but MC took in stride.

“Baby?” MC’s drowsy voice cut through Vivienne’s thoughts. The pronunciation was a bit off, but charmingly so. MC had been horrified when Zoe commented on it, trying to correct it as soon as possible, but privately Vivienne didn’t really see why she worried so much over it. Her voice was beautiful no matter what. Or maybe Vivienne was just far too whipped. Hm.

She smiled against MC’s skin, feeling the heat of it call out to her like a siren’s song. She shifted a bit, so she could rest her head over MC’s chest, snuggling under the covers. It was a cold night, after all.

“Yes?” She mumbled, internally screaming in joy over the pet name. The vibration of her voice was all MC needed to know she was awake.

“I don’t think I’m up for seeing Jace tomorrow. Think we could reschedule?”

Vivienne hummed, toying with the thought. “I think so.” She finally drew the words on MC’s skin. Her fingers slid over the charred, dry zone that had been burned and she frowned a little, wondering if she should apply more ointment in the morning.

“Great.” MC said, softly. “And… we could… maybe we could watch a movie? There’s a new one that just began airing – I’ll ask Zoe for a subtitled version tomorrow.”

“Lovely.” Vivienne drew back.

“I love you.”

The little heart that was the seductress’ reply tingled in MC’s skin like invisible ink, pure and happy and warm like the first few rays of the sun, something that would linger for many days to come.

…

In the morning, as she had been doing this past month, the first thing she did when she woke up was straddle MC under her.

MC blinked owlishly, staring at her with a soft smile. She let Vivienne move over her, sighing contently at the soft touches from her lover. Vivienne made sure to stay in sight, so MC could see her lips.

With all that done, Vivienne began her worship.

Her hand cupped MC’s cheek, tracing the cheekbone down to the soft angle of her jaw, adoring. Long fingers then glided over her throat, down, down so she could move over her collarbones, one hand to the right, one to the left.

One hand slid over smooth, soft silk, while the other traveled against rough and dry edges carefully. MC’s eyes shifted at that, always hesitant over the marred skin, and Vivienne leaned down to place a kiss just above where the burns had been, as reverently as an astronaut would kiss the ground after months away from the Earth. She hovered there for a few seconds while her hand moved from MC’s shoulder to her side, finally coming to rest over her hip.

“You are beautiful.” She mouthed, leaning back. MC’s eyes flickered to her lips, catching the words, her smile stretching just a little bit more.

Vivienne continued, leaving a trail of kisses over that side, as she often did.

“These tell a story,” she said, and MC listened, brows knitted in concentration. “Of a brave woman that was too caring, and of a silly boy.”

MC starts to shake her head, aware of Vivienne’s resentment, but Vivienne is quick to place a finger over her lips to shush her.

“A silly boy,” she repeated, and for once her voice carried no venom. “That would have had a much difficult condition had that brave woman not intervened. These scars tell a story… and its outcome, filled with obstacles and changes and that one stubborn woman in the center of it all. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone more determined in my entire life. But here you are, MC, here you are…”

She shudders with delight, her smile widening even more. One of her hand comes up to rest over Vivienne’s heart, to feel the vibrations of her voice.

“A warrior, an angel. You are the sun my thoughts spin around, always, forever. You came into my life and gave me a reason to become the woman I am today. You are always so optimistic, so breathtakingly beautiful, with you I-” Vivienne cut herself off, remembering to breathe, to pace herself. MC gave her a grateful nod, her expression soft with affection. “With you I feel like I might soar. You’ve taught me so much. You’ve taught me how to be accepting. To accept mistakes. To not run from them. And now, you’ve taught me the importance of not giving up. I admire you, you know?”

Vivienne looked at the scars again.

“The story these tell… It’s awe-inspiring. I’ll look at them every morning and remember how strong you are. Beautiful isn’t perfect skin and perfect hearing. It isn’t daring heists and life on the edge. Beautiful is you, are you are now.”

The kiss they share is gentle, loving, pure.

[neworleansspecial]

Black!AU - Buck's been missing for (over) a month maybe and Eddie's worried. Christopher keeps asking for him and he tries to reassure him but now- he can't help but think- could Buck really be- ?

I’ve been thinking about if Buck suspiciously just goes missing and Eddie has no idea where he went and then Buck turns up like a month later all bruised up

I'm not sure if that above ask was meant for this AU but I'm gonna assume it was and combine these two! Under a read more because it's long //

After a year of marriage, Eddie is pretty used to Evan being gone for long periods of times. Sometimes when he leaves for work, he's back by the end of the day; others, he's gone for two or three weeks. The longer jobs seem to affect him more, even if he won't admit to Eddie when he's scared or upset or anxious, and it's those that often wind up with Eddie taking care of his injuries and trying to pull him out of his head.

This is the longest he's been gone since they first got together. It's been 29 days, not that Eddie is counting, since Evan put his duffel bag in the trunk of his jeep, kissed Eddie goodbye, and promised Christopher to bring him a souvenir from his travels.

"When's Evan coming home?" Christopher asks over dinner one night, the two of them staring at the empty seat at their table. "I miss him."

As much as it kills him, Eddie has to say, "I don't know. Hopefully soon. He's working, bud, sometimes that takes a while."

"Stupid work."

Eddie nods. Stupid work indeed. He knows enough about Evan's job to be afraid of the extended absence. While it's not unusual for his husband to be incommunicado when he's working, he can't shake the fact that it's been far too long since they shared a bed. Worst of all, Eddie knows that Evan has worked hard to keep him and Christopher a secret from whoever he's working for, which means there will be no notification if Evan were to die.

It's the not knowing that's the worst, he thinks. If he knew something had happened to Evan, it would be awful, but at least he'd know. Right now, he's stuck in limbo. As he lays alone in his bed at night, cold without someone to hold him close.

The next morning, when he wakes up, he goes out into the living room on his way to the kitchen when he notices a few key differences from when he went to bed.

For one, there is a chair wedged under the knob of the front door, an extra barrier on top of the lock and the deadbolt, which Eddie doesn't keep engaged when Evan isn't home so he can always come in. There's an extra pair of shoes by the door. They're not the white sneakers Evan left in and prefers to wear, but rather a pair of heavy combat boots not unlike what Eddie wore when he served. Evan's duffel bag is sitting in the kitchen. But what gets Eddie's attention most of all is the small trail of red dots leading from the front door, to the kitchen, and then back to the bathroom.

Eddie follows the trail of blood with a sinking feeling in his stomach. He knocks on the door, so as not to frighten Evan, before he opens it. "Babe, are you okay?"

The sight he sees in the bathroom makes his heart skip a beat.

Evan is lying in the bathtub, still fully clothed. What skin is exposed is covered in bruises, and his light wash jeans are soaked with dark, almost black blood. His eyes are shut. He's unnaturally still.

"Oh my God, Evan?"

He immediately kneels in front of the tub and presses two fingers against Evan's neck in search of a pulse. The handful of seconds before he finds one are the worst of his life. But, thankfully, he finds that Evan's heart is beating, albeit a little fast. Assured that Evan is at least alive, Eddie struggles to get his pants far enough down his legs to see the wound. It looks like he's been stabbed. The cut is about an inch wide, but Eddie has no idea how deep it is. His first thought is that Evan needs a hospital.

His second is that if he brings Evan to a hospital, he may never see him again. In the past when he's been injured, no matter how gravely, Evan all but begged not to be sent to a hospital. He'd never forgive Eddie for bringing him now.

He takes off his own shirt to press against the wound. It seems fresh, based on the bleeding, which means Evan likely came straight here from getting injured.

Once he gets the bleeding under control, he'll have to stitch the stab wound up. About eight months ago, after another one of Evan's worse injuries, he finally invested in supplies to stitch Evan up. He's not great at it, but it's enough to keep Evan alive, and that's what matters.

When he presses down, Evan whimpers and his glassy blue eyes flutter open. He struggles for a moment, trying to get away, before his eyes settle on Eddie and he seems to recognize him. That's what gets him to relax.

"It's okay," Eddie soothes. "You're safe. I've got you."