#and also. ' sometimes i get tired of this vengeance in my eyes. ' cries.............

[timewontwait]

if i were to pick a song that just summarizes my sonic, it’s this one kfgjskd.

[echantedtoon]

Demon Yuichiro Tokito

Decided to draw me own version of Demon Yuichiro from my Double Demon Siblings Au. In which the entirety of the Kny cannon stays the same, other than the addition of Yuichiro's transformation into a Demon. I used refs from both Muichiro's and Nezuko's official art for the poses. Unfortunately I'm not very good at drawing hands. :/

Name: Yuichiro Tokito

Race: Demon, Formerly Human, and Human again by the help of Tamayo.

Age: 14 same as his twin

Gender: Male

Body: Same Height and weight as Muichiro, can become more muscular and slightly taller when fully demon

Personality: Yuichiro's personality as a demon surprisingly is not too different from his personality as a human. However since his transformation into a demon he's become quieter than before and seems to be thinking about things often as if confused, curious, or trying to remember something. He's also prone to acting aggressively if threatened, scared, angry, or he feels his twin is in immediate danger. However unlike Nezuko he actively avoids others' touch even if he sees them as non threats, and is fairly antisocial by nature, but if you say his name or speak to him he will at least look to acknowledge the presence of whoever is talking to him. Very protective of Muichiro and is always at least within his general area. Is often seen as moody or grumpy by nature, but if you're not someone he sees threatening/rude to him/Mui he'll at least tolerate you. If you're someone he actively likes, then he'll be nicer, less grumpy, and may actually do some friendly gestures towards them.

BIO:

Nothing about their backstory gets changed up to the point the demon stumbles into their home. Yuichiro was used to treating Amane with distain and treating Muichiro as he does in cannon. The events of that night are forever foggy to Muichiro until he regains them later but the visions of his brother would never fade-

Yuichiro bloodied and lying facedown on the floor. The house a complete mess. Blood smeared everywhere. And in the middle of it all was a man smiling as wickedly as sin. Lifting Yuichiro by the neck and bringing the boy closer to his maw. To devour. Eat. Digest. A scream exited from Muichiro's throat. Enough to wake the dead as the demon reached for him- 

Vision red as blood. Vengeance and justice by hands of the innocent.

When Muichiro came to hours later still early enough in the morning to be dark to the demon's body impaled and smashed gurgling on it's own blood. Numb, tired, and mind mostly a blank as he just follows on autopilot back to the bloody home. Opening the door and finding his brother standing up body covered in blood and feasting on leftover raw deer meat they had stored away. However as he saw his brother Yuichiro snapped. Turning on him and launching at his weary brother. For he was no longer a human.

Yuichiro had joined the ranks of demons.

Muichiro wasn't sure himself what had happened. One moment Yuichiro was clawing and biting at his arms, and the next he's hissing and growling brother was pinned underneath him clawing to get away with Muichiro holding him down from above. And then it happens. Muichiro cries. His tears falling into the open eyes of his brothers stinging him and making him blink back up to Muichiro. His crying face and eye penetrating his eyes and as they say, eyes are windows to the soul. And all at once things seem to calm down. Yuichiro stops doing anything. Only lying there quietly and staring at his tired brother who is just crying, and crying and crying. His tears constantly falling into Yuichiro's own wide open eyes and all over his face. It might've only been ten minutes. It might've been an hour. But sometime he passed out and woken up to Yuichiro just sitting there and staring at him. Giving a couple sounds and poking his forehead over and over with an annoyed look on his face. It was daytime and for some reason all the windows and doors were closed and blocked off not allowing any light in.  Muichiro is confused but didn't forget the events of last night. In fact if it was for the fact that their home was literally torn to shreds and blood stains were everywhere, it would've only been written off as a bad dream. 

Yuichiro was not himself..And yet still acted like himself to an extent. He was still treating him with a scowl on his face and the annoyed jabs he'd usually give. Only he didn't act.. human. After Muichiro woke up he scuttled off to the darkest corner of the house where he curled up under a table as if that would shield himself further from.. something. There's not really much time to take anything in before the door is opened harshly and a complete stranger is invading their home. Muichiro freezes and Yuichiro hisses at the addition of more light suddenly being allowed in. The stranger hums as eyes look around the torn home surveying the damage and then taking in Muichiro sitting there bloodied and wide eyed.

The sudden look of horror on Lady Amane's face is only heightened as Yuichiro hisses and lunges at the woman-

I don't know what they're called but Yuichiro's demon crest are those yellow leaves he's always seen with. The same ones in the artwork linked below-

BLOOD DEMON ARTS AND ABILITIES: His abilities as a demon are similar to Nezuko's as he sleeps to regenerate and regain strength, can manipulate his blood a certain way, and has a similar fighting style using his claws and body to lash out and kick. However his blood doesn't provide flames. Instead his blood has an acid burning effect only lethal to others that hold demonic blood infused by wisteria, as a result allowing Yuichiro to be immune to wisteria poisoning. No one knows why this is but Shinobu has theorized that it might be due to the twin's old lumberjacking lifestyle and Yuichiro being around so much trees (possibly including wisteria trees) that his body had built a strange immunity to it. No one knows if this is true but Muichiro is somewhat glad his brother won't die by poisoning. So while people like Muichiro and Tanjiro wouldn't be affected, Genya in his demon form and full bloodied demons such as Nezuko or Kokushibo will be.

Yuichiro can use his fighting style and acidity techniques in many ways. Kicking and slashing his way in a similar form to Nezuko only more aggressively and a bit more recklessly in the beginning. His blood naturally extends a wisteria scent warding aware most smaller demons and allowing Yuichiro to camouflage himself from other demons and sometimes slayers by blending into flowers or Wisteria trees. Yui's deadliest and most efficient attack, Thanks to the mutation in his blood, Yui can turn his blood into a deadly poison that she can then infuse into his nails by clawing hid body to cover his hands in blood. This poison is full of Wysteria and can be smelt in the air, and can be delivered in poisonous jabs at other demons.

He can also use his blood as acid, throwing droplets at a demon (usually the face) to eat away at their skin and blinding them to give himself an opening. However this is the extent of his use and he cannot heal people the same way Nezuko can.

Also on a very important note, while Yuichiro isn't affected by wisteria he absolutely CAN NOT walk in the sun. Sunlight CAN and WILL still burn/kill him like any other demon. This because while Nezuko never tasted human blood, Yuichiro has. Multiple times Muichiro has donated some of his own blood to his brother along with Tanjiro after finding out the Twin's secret and taking pity on someone in the same situation.

Yuichiro also has more of a habit of biting. His fangs are longer and slightly curved inwards like a snake's so when he bites down, they hook in tearing away more flesh and causing more damage to the enemy.

OTHER DEMON FEATURES: On top of gaining his demon crest in the shape of those golden leaves, Yuichiro also sprouts two extra eyes which allows him to survey his environment more and combat threats better. His left arm is also a greyish-tan color from regenerating it as a demon. This color goes away once he's fully human again. He wears the clothing he wore when he first turned, refusing to part with it for some unknown reason. Muichiro repurposed it into a shirt for Yui when he grew older, and bought him a pair of pants and boots made out of the same anti-demon fabric his own Demon Slayer uniform is made from to help keep his brother safe.

[iruiji]

Since I'm having a bit of a problem getting motivation for the Fungi and Sagau, imma just drop some Scaramouche crumbs as a cat.

Yes.

And this is also a gift to all my followers. Oh man I got 160+ of you I don't even know how-

I have no deep knowledge of felines, but our family does own several of them, so some would be from my observations mostly.

So, to start off, I picture you meeting Scaramouche as a kitten, dripping like a wet rat from hiding in an inconspicuous alley somewhere.

You, being an animal lover, immediately took off your jacket to cover the poor thing in warmth, only to be hissed and clawed at - little guy would probably murder you the moment you stepped closer, so you baited him with some cat food you always bring to feed strays that you might encounter.

Took almost a full 3 hours, but poor bloke probably got tired of shivering and walked towards you, warning in its eyes as it chomped down on the soggy food. You almost cried at the defeated look on its face.

You offered the jacket again, and this time the kitten buried its face on the warm cotton after some sniffing. Told him you'd get up to carry him home, and it just closed its eyes. You get your handkerchief from your bag to at least dry his fur a little - poor thing is very, very cold.

The moment you get home you immediately turned on the heater, and seated yourself beside it, but not before getting a thick blanket first and replacing the dripping jacket. You made a tight bundle out of it with the kitten to change your clothes and then went back to cuddling him.

A hiss suddenly woke you up from your slumber, only to see the kitten yowling in his haste to free itself from the blanket. You snort and expertly avoid the little swipes he made at you while you untie the blanket.

Dude literally flies past you and jumps on the top of the cabinet with ease, growling when you tried to reach for him. Another flurry of swipes met your hand when you attempt a second try of getting him down.

Right.

You gave it some wet food and water while it perches itself on its place, and then made a small bed from an old fleece blanket. He sniffs at it, peed, before giving you a somewhat haughty look. You swear it looks like a smirk.

Another bed was made, this time out of cotton, and it too was rejected with a mighty push from the kitten - landing sadly on the floor with a flop.

Tried silk just to fuck with him, only to be shredded into smithereens the moment you placed it on the varnished wood with a mighty yowl.

A resounding no, then.

As a last resort, since you have limited types of fabrics (you mostly have cotton), you gave him one of your memory foam pillows, and it was met with a.. peaceful.. approach?

He rolled on it once, and never got up.

You pinch the bridge of your nose in resignation.

Thus, Kunikuzushi was named. Country Destroyer. Fitting.

The rest of the first week you learned what he likes: soft surfaces (mostly memory foam beds), mackerel (he vehemently refused to eat cat food, and if you try to make him eat it, pray to whoever God you believe that you'll survive his unrelenting swipes), warm baths, being left alone (DO NOT SNEAK ON HIM YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED), and sleeping, mostly.

He dislikes touching (with a vengeance - but you're working on that because poor bloke looked like he desperately wanted to cuddle sometimes with how he rolls and rolls on the bed until you gave him a blanket) (you can also imagine just how his first rodeo with the Vet went), cat food (DUH), other cats (you're HIS), other people (again, you're HIS), and loud noises. Poor bloke nearly jumped from the window when you broke a glass once and did not eat for almost a day with how much he's shivering (he was given a small doll of a boy that day, which thankfully, survived his tastes).

So.. imagine your shock when in the middle of winter, you tried calling him for cuddles, and he looks at you - like really looked at you, before he slowly crawls on your lap and practically flops himself down.

Boy, you probably need to see a doctor with how far your eyes bulged out from their sockets. Can you still breathe? With me: one, two, three, four..

Now, imagine when you finally mustered up the courage to pet him and he purred-

Reader.exe has stopped working.

(Hold on, I am being overwhelmed myself, lemme just get a glass of water before I faint..)

After that one incident, things got a little bit more.. peaceful. Just a bit. He still hates touches and will go at you like a madman if he ever sees you attempting to give him those horrendous cat food or cuddles.

The big change happened when you two were living together for seven months - he looked bigger and healthier and you were always proud of him when you see him lounging as a loaf by the window, basking under the comfortable heat of the sun. To think he was as small as a rat before!

He's deeeefintely the type to push items from the table as he looked at you, taunting you to dare and stop him. He'd had broken ten glass as this is being written.

But Kuni is rather tamed now, and doesn't easily swipe at you, although he gives you judging looks after doing something stupid (burning food or tripping and being clumsy in general) that makes your skin crawl sometimes. He does meow a bit when you get injured sometimes though, and that's one of the rare times where you are permitted to cuddle with him.

He went outside like 6 times in that period - the last three happening at the 6th month because he just doesn't want to interact with anyone else.

So yeah. You got off work, ready to go home to your beloved terror of a cat, only to panic when you found your place trashed when you opened the door, Kuni dangling in the hands of a man trying to suffocate him.

You didn't even think and body-slammed that asshole like a champ. He hit the wall hard but was able to recover to land a solid right hook and then you're on the floor with bloodied lip. Then you heard what probably terrify other people (you're just used to it as this point), a loud yowl, before Kuni was descending like an irked God intent on enacting his punishment.

The screams, although horrifying, was somewhat music to your ears at that moment.

Police were called as your cat growl, swiped, and bite at the man. You yourself was on the verge of fainting, so you try and call him over - didn't want to really leave him if the burglar becomes a corpse by the time you wake up.

"Kuni.. ow."

He stills and immediately runs to you, pawing at your cheek, mewling as he rubs your face with his own.

You let out a choked gasp, then it's black.

After that incident, his interaction with you increased - from sitting on your lap, rubbing himself on your leg, to sleeping next to you. It's not an everyday occurrence, of course, but it's as if he's given you the privilege to touch him whenever he's beside you and just bask in it.

Hoo boy, the things it does to your heart.

A year after you discover him from the alley in the middle of a downpour, you finally gave him a small collar with his name on it.

"There! Awww, blue and violet looks good on you, Kuni! Do you want to try dressing up next?"

He swiped your newly bought ceramic cup from the table in retaliation.

That's 11.

OMFG I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS HOW I AM RAKING MY BRAIN FOR INSPIRATION AND THEN I JUST THOUGHT, "HEY, HOW WOULD SCARA BE AS A CAT" AND THEN THIS VOMIT JUST- FINISHED WITHIN 20 MINUTES, NO LESS!! T.T

Anyways, hoped ya enjoy. See you in the next century or something. ALSO, THIS IS HEAVILY INSPIRED BY THAT TUMBLR POST ABOUT KAZUHA AND XIAO AS ADORABLE CATS. IF SOMEONE CAN LINK IT HERE, I WILL LOVE YOU FOR A THOUSAND YEARS, THANKS.

[cynettic]

Kissing Genshin Characters before you Die

Summary - Kissing the Genshin Characters one last time before you enter the battlefield.

Pairings - Reader x Albedo / Barbara / Bennett / Beidou / Chongyun / Diluc / Eula / Kazuha / Kaeya / Ayaka / Ningguang / Childe / Venti / Xiao / Zhongli

Warnings - Angst, death mentions

Tips - I wrote this listening to ‘Lovely’ and ‘Listen before I go,’ so it might make it better if you listen to both those songs while reading this :’) Both are by Billie Eilish btw, both reverb and slowed down songs for the extra angst

A/N - Im so tired, so so tired of human interaction and having no motivation to talk to people. Its like my social battery simply does not recharge, and I'm stuck writing about interactions I wish I could have, even if it's angst. Burying myself in the delusion that being in a different reality would change everything, burying myself in little imaginations and dreams of a love that doesn't exist.

Also yes, if you did notice the song lyrics playing at first are from "If the World was Ending," used to listen to that song so much. Thought it would fit this :)

“If the world was ending you’d come over right?”

It was absolute chaos, flames crawling up the wooden buildings and spreading smoke through the nation of Teyvat. Everything burned with the scorching heat, children crying, men and woman trying to run from the unescapable flames. Terror etched into citizens faces when encountering the monsters who appeared unaffected by the destruction.

Hilichurls and ruin guards smashing past people, till there was nowhere to run. And it was the mere decision of whether being beaten to death or burnt crisp was a better way to leave this world.

“You’d come over and you’d stay the night.”

But there you were, weapon in hand as you stood up against the blaze. Strong against the unblinking inferno in front of you, unwavering as you stood in front of the monsters that eagerly rushed towards you. Cut and obliterated in seconds, your eyes held nothing but a sickening disgust.

You slowly turned back to your s/o, relief quenching your heart when they were safe in the little location you’d found for them. They were injured, they wouldn't be sitting on the sidelines otherwise. And holding your weapon up again, you claimed the role of protector against the hoard of monsters.

“Would you love me for the hell of it?”

Their voice broke past your focus, a ragged sound that was suffering. It only took you a few strides till you reached them, crouching down to face them fully. Your faces were mere inches away, and you could see the frustration on their face. A deeply rooted feeling that fueled the action as they curled their hand around your head. Pressing your lips against theirs, one last kiss before you assumed the role of predator against the monsters.

“All our fears would be irrelevant.”

Both hands coming to hold their face, you pressed forwards into their kiss. Grasp tight against them, clinging onto them as if they were your lifeline.

“If the world was ending you’d come over right?”

You kissed them as if the world wasn't a aflame, like it was just you both sitting there. Hands grasping for their skin, for their lips, for them. Because without them you couldn't live in this smoldering world, a bright light that cocooned you in its comforting warmth. Nothing like the blazing flames that surrounded the two of you.

You kissed them like they were the only thing that mattered.

“The sky’d be falling and I’d hold you tight.”

But you felt the shake in their hands as they pressed their hand against your back, scared to let you go, scared to lose you. Scared to let this kiss end and have to face the scorching reality.

“And there wouldn't be a reason why.”

You pressed one last kiss to their forehead, basking in their embrace once more between you broke away. The look on your face was confident as you faced them one last time, softened by their teary eyes. Whispering soft words to them, you could only watch as they broke down, a tight feeling in your chest urging you to do the same.

But no, you had to be strong. For them, for yourself, for all of Teyvat. You slowly turned to the flames and monsters, holding up your weapon, screaming one last battle cry as you let your weapon lead your actions. As you let death become your only objective in a flurry to protect your partner.

“We would even have to say goodbye.”

Sobs wretched out of their throat as they watched you crumble, watched you fall the ground and collapse. Till the movement of your chest came to an abrupt stop, and monsters pooled at your sides.

They were forced to watch, unable to move.

“If the world was ending you’d come over right?”

Their cries turned to whimpers, until they couldn't hear the noises that spilled form their lips. Until they didn't care. What they cared about was thrown on their battlefield, beaten and ragged, torn and broken.

Dead.

“You’d come over… right?”

_-_-_-_-_

Albedo

He takes his time, hand on the back of your neck pushing you so hard against him till he’s woozy. Memorizing the feel of your plush lips against his, molding them into memory with every kiss. He’ll break away from your lips, pressing soft pecks up your face, along your nose, to your forehead. Infatuated with the way your hands gently hold his face, careful, delicate. He doesnt want to let you go, and with one final peck right between your eyes, he’ll close his eyes, whispering a goodbye as you leave. He doesnt open them when you die, he doesnt open them when the monsters reach him. No, he dies in your embrace, even if its not real.

Barbara

Desperate, oh so desperate. She doesnt know what to do with you when you press your hands to her face, tearful. You’ll have to be the one to initiate the kiss, muffling her cries with a short lived sweetness between the two of you. She’ll have her hands all over you, unsure of how to hold you, how to press you against her. She wants to stay like this forever, and even if her kisses are sloppy and messy, she’s crying too much to notice. She won’t break away, you’ll have to tug your way out of her grip and press one last kiss to her forehead. Her voice is angelic, even when she cries. You remind yourself that this is what you’re protecting as you enter the battlefield, giving it your all.

Beidou

Oh she knows, knows how this will play out. The kisses shared between the two of you are strong and compassionate, its more intense than any other kiss you’ve both shared before. Because she knows. She knows what’ll become of you and her, that this is the last kiss she’ll share with you, that there's nothing she can do about it. She lets herself indulge in you, her strong hold on you never letting go until you vocally ask her to let you go. You make her promises she knows you can't keep, but simply smiles, telling you to come back to her.

Bennett

Awkward, his hands will grab your shoulders when you approach him, pressing for a kiss immediately. He misses his mark, accidentally pressing his lips to the edge of your lips, noses bumping against each other as he tries to shift his face. You chuckle, holding his face as you adjust the angle, till you can fully reach his lips and press him against you. Like Barbara, he’ll cry, letting himself melt into you. He doesnt resist when you back away, whispering to him. Just sitting there he’ll cry, sob through it all, vision blurry with tears. But its better that way, he can picture you better when everything is fuzzy.

Chongyun

Everything was smoldering hot, too much for Chongyun who has so much yang energy trapped in him. He’s going through one of his rushes when you get to him, eager to tuck you into his arms. His kisses are sporadic, like he’s trying to kiss you but he cant. Like no matter how much his lips meet yours, it isnt enough. He wants more, he wants the promise of your forever embrace ingrained in his head. And when you break away, he’s left empty, the kisses he’d given you the only warmth on his lips. Suddenly everything was cold, so cold, and he only wished for you.

Diluc

Too rough, mashing your lips against his until you couldn't breath. Dizzy with the lack of oxygen, he didn't stop. You were ‘his,' right here right now, no one could take you away from him. You belonged alongside him, crouched in front of him, pressed into his arms where he could keep you safe. He wouldn't let you go, strong arms pulling you to his chest so firmly that you couldn't escape. He wanted to be selfish, he let himself indulge in the promise to himself that you weren't going anywhere. You’ll have to physically break out yourself, pressing back his hands as he tries to make a grab for you, tears brimming.

Eula

You were her everything, and she’ll tell you it through her kisses. She’ll run her hands along the curve of your back, holding you tenderly against her. She doesn't wish for vengeance for all the soft kisses you’ve stolen from her good days long ago, no, she’s willing to forgive you for everything as long as you’ll ‘stay.’ She promises that in all honesty, she loves everything about you, even if she denies it sometimes. And when you leave, she tells you to come back. That its the one and only thing she’ll hold against you if you don't.

Kazuha

Soft, so incredibly sensual with every touch. Kazuha was always filled with words, filled with lovely compositions made for you and only you. But now, he couldn't think of anything, no haiku he’d written in the past that compared to what he felt right now. Metaphors and hidden meanings couldn't compare to the raw pulsing throb he felt in his chest. “I love you,” he whispered, plain and simple. It held so much affection, he was afraid even those words weren't enough to express what he felt, but he settled with it either way. “I love you,” he repeated, brushing your lips against his before he said it again. “I love you.” He said it again, even as you left, entering the battlefield. He didn't stop saying it, not when he saw the monsters take you, not when they approached him with the promise of death. “I love you.”

Kaeya

He doesnt kiss you, because kisses to Kaeya are a sort of affection that brings the sense of normalcy. He likes the way your lips feel against his, but holding you against him is more special. He doesnt depend on kisses to express what he feels, instead pushing your head to his chest, sighing when your own arms come to wrap around him. No kisses, no touches, just you and him. Offering each other your last shreds of hope, because in the end, you only need each other.

Ayaka

“Look at me.” Her hand cups your cheeks just as you do to her. Now you both simply stare into each others eyes, love and adoration filling hers. She loves you, oh she loves you so much. But she understands duty better than anyone, the urge to protect you almost consuming her. When she kisses you, its soft, butterfly kisses. She doesn't rely on the contact to keep her grounded, no holding your face is a gift enough for her. To stare at you, even for one last time, is all she needs. You’ve given her so much, she would follow you to the ends of the world if you asked her to, and that's why it hurts her so much to watch you fall. She closes her eyes, noticing that she’d follow soon after and perhaps see you in the afterlife. No, she would, that's a promise she makes to herself.

Ningguang

Ningguang has delt with loss before, the concept isnt foreign to her. But you… you’re more than the jade chamber, more than any possession she has. You’re precious, like she sold a piece of her heart to you that she could never gain back. You took it from her, and you plan to take it with you to the battlefield. All she can do is press her lips against yours. Kiss you and the world beside you both becomes meaningless, until air becomes a chore instead of a necessity. Because without air she'd kiss you forever.

Childe

Details, in the case that Childe himself cant fight alongside you, he’ll hold you and repeat the details in his head. The way his hand feels on your hair, how soft or rough your lips are against his. How you fit against him, how badass you look out in the battlefield. He won’t stop you from leaving him, because he knows that if this case was reversed, he’d want you to let him go too. So he presses intimate kisses, slow ones that dont consist of a fight for dominance like they usually do. No, he wants to tell you how much he loves you, one last time.

Venti

He doesnt know what to do, pressed against you firmly. He presses soft kisses, but theres no emotion, he doesn't know how to express himself here. He’s lost a lot, lost so much in his existence, but nothing prepared him for this. Only after a kisses will he ask to cry, and when you tell him yes he’ll press his head against your shoulder. He’ll sob, hands gripping the fabric of your shirt as he does so. And then he kisses you while tears stream down his face, mashes your lips against his until his face grows numb. And he’ll continue to feel numb when you leave, when you die, when he dies.

Xiao

He doesn't know what to do, Xiao has never felt so utterly useless when you crouch to him. Form battered and bruised, when you embrace him he feels whole again. You’re his world, he doesn't care about the blazing inferno just beside you, the monsters that threaten all of Teyvat. You are his everything, what he strives to protect and keep safe. Kisses with him are breathless, both of you passionately pulling each other closer. He cant get enough of you, he wants all of you, every single piece. Molded into his embrace until you cant get out. When you break away, he tries to pull you to him, but he finds himself only able to move in the slightest. But Xiao is a protector, he is ‘your’ protector. He follows you as you head to the battlefield, dragging his limp body in a crawl to get closer. He doesn't stop when he sees the monsters overtake you, no, he continues. Just until he reaches your body, grabbing you and holding your corpse into his chest. He numbs out the monsters that attack him, knowing sullenly that he's going to die. But death doesn't seem so bad, not beside you.

Zhongli

As someone who always has control over the situation, Zhongli will be able to adapt quickly. But he doesnt want you to suffer, admiring you for being so strong when everything presses against you. He wishes to relieve the weight if only a little bit with a few kisses. Sensual and intimate, he wants to support you, and if he cant do it on the battlefield he’ll do it right here. Hold you close and promise you that he’ll always be there for you. Only after you die does he allow himself to cry, not wanting to have burdened you with his tears.

[blueskrugs]

Some People Do | Nathan MacKinnon

title from an Old Dominion song of the same name. highly recommend a listen while reading.

the only other words I have are that I cried while writing this.  

length: 6.2k words

I know that time just keeps going on And words by themselves can't right all the wrongs

No one ever claimed that dating an NHL player was easy. In fact, it was hard as hell. Dating the face of a franchise, the savior of a franchise, was hard as hell. It wasn’t that you didn’t love Nate. You loved him more than anyone else, more than you sometimes thought was possible. But sometimes you wondered if your relationship was doomed from the start, if carrying the weight of the expectations of Denver on Nate’s shoulders was too much for both of you to handle. 

Nate had proclaimed himself unromantic before, but you didn’t really need flowers and extravagant gifts. With Nate, it was always the little things. He would cook you breakfast in the mornings before you left for work and he for practice. He would sneak into your apartment when you had a long day at work and clean up. (Never laundry though. He always said he was too scared of fucking that up.) It was letting you cuddle on the couch, no questions asked, no words spoken, on days you really needed it; he always seemed to know about those days even before you did. You knew the other boys teased Nate sometimes, everything from ribbing him about being whipped to roasting him for his somewhat abysmal gift-giving skills. Nate would just blush and give them that shy little smile you loved so much. 

That’s the way things were for a long time. You were both happy, comfortable. You wondered sometimes, on the hardest nights, if you had gotten too comfortable. If you had forgotten just where you were, who you were with, and how lucky you were that Nate had ever given you the time of day in the first place. 

You missed the drama of the Avalanche’s historically bad, never-before-seen debacle of a year that had been the 2016-2017 season and came into Nate’s life when they were back on their feet, making a name for themselves in the standings again. You still saw the damage it had done to him, though, in the way he blamed himself for losses, took them a little harder than anyone else– except maybe Gabe– in the way he dialed up his intensity even stronger than ever until he was satisfied. Except he was never satisfied, probably would never be, bar winning a Cup or three. 

The Avs dug themselves out a hole. And then they hit a wall again.

It was the same old shit that always seemed to dog the team, injury after injury, games that just never seemed to go their way, no matter how hard they fought. 

October started out fine. They won more than they lost, and it looked like they could have a chance at being something this year. The end of October came with a string of losses. Mikko went down with a lower-body injury on Halloween. 

November continued a downward spiral. Nate stopped scoring, Burky broke his wrist, and they only won a handful of games the entire month. Nate started coming home late from the arena, sweaty and exhausted; you knew he was running himself ragged, literally, on the treadmill and on drills. His blue eyes were hard as stone, and the set of his jaw grew more tense with each loss the team strung together. 

Road trips were the hardest. From the start of your relationship, you and Nate made a point to FaceTime during roadies. You looked forward to those calls all day, because no matter how terrible the game had been, Nate would see you and smile. You would always do anything for him to smile. The calls continued that terrible season, and for a while, it seemed like nothing had changed. Nate’s eyes were more tired than usual, his brow permanently furrowed, but you would answer the phone, and that would all disappear for a moment when he grinned at you.

You had just gotten out of the shower when your phone started ringing with a FaceTime call. You were surprised to see that it was Nate. You hadn’t been officially dating for very long at all, and he had only left for the road trip that morning. 

“What the hell is on your head?” was the first thing out of Nate’s mouth when you answered the call. Somewhere off camera, you could hear Tyson Barrie cackling. 

Your hand flew up to your hair, which was wrapped in a towel. “It’s a towel, dumbass. And I just got out of the shower, I’m not wearing makeup or anything,” you whined. 

Nate rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to respond when Tyson leaned into frame. “Hi, Y/N!” he yelled. Nate flinched.

There was a moment of darkness and what sounded like the two wrestling on the bed for a moment, before a whispered, “Get out of here!” and a door closing. “I’m sorry about him,” Nate said, picking his phone back up. 

You just laughed. You had only met Tyson one time so far, and he seemed like fun, if not a little crazy. “Let me just-” You reached up to tug the towel off your head. 

“No, don’t! I mean, I think it’s cute,” Nate said. You froze, staring at his blurry face on your phone screen. You were pretty sure he was blushing in the shitty hotel light. “I just- I missed you, and I don’t care what you look like. I mean-wait, I don’t want you to think you need to have makeup or shit on for me to think you’re beautiful.” Yeah, he was definitely blushing now. He was also smiling a little bit, cautiously, as if he was afraid of your response.

You smiled back, settling in against the pillows on your bed, and saying, “Nate, I literally saw you this morning.” He shrugged.

“Wanted to see your face again,” he mumbled. Then, “Can I call you tomorrow after our game, too?”

He did call you the next night, and the night after that, and then roadtrip FaceTime calls became a routine.

As the season went on, you waited by the phone every night Nate was out of town, but slowly the calls became few and far between, until they stopped entirely. 

Most wouldn't forgive what I put you through But I'm here tonight, hoping some people do

Nate started watching game film obsessively, coming home and sitting up for hours. He would watch his own clips, his teammates’ clips, clips from every other team, watching for any mistake or flaw, some way to fix this. He’d always been so serious about schedules and routines, but he started coming to bed later and later. You always tried to get Nate to come to bed with you, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and murmuring a, “Babe, c’mon, it’s getting late,” but he’d shrug you off and say back, “Just a few more minutes.”

You resigned yourself to going to bed alone. Cox started laying in Nate’s spot on the bed. 

The Penguins came to town. The slump continued, for the team and for Nate. Nate got benched. It was December, and all the Crosbys and MacKinnons had come to town, too, planning to celebrate Christmas a little early while everyone could be together. 

Bednar had told Nate he wouldn’t be playing against the Pens following a morning skate. Cale told you he had broken his stick against a wall afterwards. His temper followed him home, came back with a vengeance, and you would never forget the sadness on Taylor’s face and the anger on Sarah’s when he snapped at Taylor over something stupid and let the door slam behind him for good measure. He didn’t talk to any of you for the rest of the night, and he drove to the arena alone.

The Avs won in a game that was nothing short of a Christmas miracle. Nate came home in a slightly better mood, apologized to Taylor, and started channeling his anger into his time on the ice instead. It might have had something to do with the fact that you were sure he hadn’t missed the way you flinched when he had yelled. 

The end of December saw a win streak for the Avs and a scoring streak for Nate. 

“I thought about asking for a trade,” Nate said casually one January night. It was the All-Star break, and Nate had found a cabin on a lake in California to rent for bye week. He didn’t look up at you as he said it, gazing instead up at the stars, and your heart broke.

Nate’s arm was draped around your shoulder, and it had been a comforting weight, but suddenly it felt like it would crush you. You hadn’t been in Denver for the drama of the last teammate that had requested a trade midseason, but you knew the tale, knew the bitterness that was still in that locker room. You knew how it could destroy a team. And you’d had no idea Nate was even considering it.

He kept talking. “Thought about trying to go somewhere where people didn’t care about hockey, somewhere where it didn’t matter if I had been a fluke.” His voice broke. “I just want out sometimes. Get away from all the fucking expectations, the hope that I’ll bring the Cup back to Denver, that I can be the next Sidney Crosby, just the next best thing out of Cole Harbour.” It was the first time you had ever heard Nate say Sid’s name like that, with venom and bitterness.

You were speechless, couldn’t find the words to respond to Nate. You weren’t even sure he wanted you to respond, to argue with him. So you just shrugged off his arm from your shoulders and pulled him into your chest, resting your chin on his head as you watched the stars together.

The trade deadline passed. Nate still wore an A for the Colorado Avalanche, and no one would ever know any differently. 

I know you're hurt, I know it's my fault But I've kept "I'm sorry" locked in a vault

You called Sid late one night in March. He answered quickly, because he always did when you or Nate called, even though it was after midnight in Pittsburgh.

“Sid, I don’t know what to do anymore,” you had cried, with Cox curled up next to you on the couch in the dark. Nate was asleep upstairs, gone to bed early for the first time in a long time. Cox heard your tears and shoved his face into your hand, asking for attention, letting you use him as comfort. You petted him absently as you told Sid everything. And Sid listened, even as you told him stories of the season he already knew, told to him by Nate in similar late night phone conversations, even as it ticked past 1 in the morning in Denver. Sid waited until you finished talking before responding, spewing sympathy and advice that you only half listened to, still caught up in your thoughts. 

In the best days of your relationship and in your worst, you didn’t know what you would do without Sid.

You thought back to the first summer you visited Nate in Cole Harbour. You hadn’t gone the first summer after you’d started dating, as you’d only been together a couple of months, although Nate had begged you pretty much the entire summer. The next summer, though, there was absolutely no getting out of visiting. 

You had never been to Canada before, and you had grown up spending your summers on a lake, but you were convinced nothing would ever compare to Nova Scotia. Nate had laughed at you when you ran out onto his deck, a wide smile on your face. You spun around to look up at him.

“I love it here,” you said. Nate laughed again.

“You’ve barely even been here. You haven’t seen the good stuff yet.”

“I have a house, water, and you, what else is there to see?” Nate chuckled fondly at you. 

You spent the day out on the water with Nate, Sid and the dogs. It was peaceful out there in the sun, the silence only occasionally broken by Sid’s ridiculous laugh or one of the dog’s barks. You were dozing in the sun when Nate came over to you.

“Come swimming with me for a bit.” You raised an eyebrow at him.

“I’m tanning, Nathan.” Sid laughed. Next thing you knew, you were being picked up and thrown over Nate’s shoulder. Sid laughed louder. Sometimes you really hated him and that fucking laugh. “Nate!” you shrieked. “Put me down!”

Nate simply said, “Okay,” before he was throwing you in the lake. You came up spluttering. Nate and Sid were both doubled over in laughter, and dogs were caught up in the excitement and barking. 

“Help me out,” you whined, reaching a hand out of the water. Nate took pity on you and grabbed your hand.

You pulled him headfirst down into the water. 

Sid came up to you on the dock on your last night in Cole Harbour. Nate was up at the house, getting you a blanket and more wine, and you were watching the stars.

“You’re really good for him, you know,” Sid said without preamble, settling next to you on the dock. You waited for him to continue. “I’ve known him for years, and I’ve never seen him as happy as he has been this week with you here.” You blushed. “And you should hear the way he talks about you on the phone, God, I didn’t know it was possible for anyone to get him out of his head and stop focusing on hockey, I don’t know how you do it.” He paused, gazing up at the clear sky.When he spoke again, his voice was soft. “Nate takes everything so seriously. He’s gotten pretty fucked up over bad relationships in the past. I was a little worried when I saw how fast he was falling for you, when he’d call or text me like a middle-school girl with a crush. But I don’t have to worry, because you two are so good together, like you’ve known each other forever, and will be together forever.” 

Nate chose that moment to reappear. “Talkin’ about me?” he asked, pushing Sid out of the way so he could sit next to you. 

“Only good things,” Sid smiled.

Nate draped his arm across your shoulders and the blanket over your legs. You leaned your head on his shoulder.

“I love you,” Nate whispered into your hair, brushing a kiss to the top of your head. 

Nate came downstairs not long after you hung up with Sid. He found you crying on the couch, trying to muffle your sobs into the sleeves of one of his Avalanche hoodies. He made a soft, wounded sound, and you startled. You didn’t have a chance to apologize– for waking Nate, for breaking down– before he was climbing onto the couch next to you. He pulled you into his lap wordlessly, kissing away your tears, holding you as you shook. 

He whispered sweet things to you as you calmed down, I’m sorrys and I love yous breaking the silence of the night. Cox whined, crawling his way into your lap as well. Nate’s heartbeat was steady beneath your ear, his breathing even, and you found yourself soothed by it. The two– well, three, if you counted the German Shepherd who was decidedly not a lap dog– fell asleep on the couch like that. When you woke up again, sunlight was streaming into the living room, and you were still safely wrapped up in Nate’s arms.

He looked younger, softer, in his sleep, the burden of being Nathan MacKinnon momentarily forgotten. You couldn’t help but stare, a soft smile on your face. Nate shifted under you a couple of minutes later, eyes blinking sleepily open. He grinned when he found you inches from his face, already watching him. 

“Good morning,” he whispered, stretching up to kiss you gently. “D’you want breakfast?”

You buried your face in Nate’s neck. “In a minute,” you mumbled. “Comfy.” Nate laughed, loud, and you felt it in every inch of your body that was touching his.

As you sat sipping your coffee in the kitchen later, watching Nate cook you breakfast, like he had for so long, you could almost convince yourself that everything was fine, that the stress fractures of your relationship weren’t on the verge of breaking completely. 

Some people say sorry to hear it's okay But I know it's not so you don't have to say That you understand 'cause I know you don't

In the living room where you had left your phone after last night’s phone call, you got a text. Then another. And another. Nate’s phone started ringing; his face went white, and he dropped the spatula he was using.

Confused, and starting to get worried, you set your coffee down and rushed to pick up your phone. The first thing you saw was a text from Mel, simply saying, “i’m so sorry.” Nate was still on the phone in the kitchen, speaking in an anxious hushed tone to whoever was on the other end. You ignored the handful of other texts you had received in favor of looking at your Instagram and Twitter notifications which were blowing up. You clicked on one with a shaky hand.

Your heart dropped. Your phone fell to the floor with a clatter. 

In the kitchen, Nate’s voice rose, but you couldn’t hear any of the words he was saying over the pounding of your heart in your ears. 

You sank to the floor and picked up your phone again. You had been tagged in a series of pictures, all of Nate. There was Nate with a girl in a bar, with a girl in his lap, his arm wrapped around her waist, his lips on hers. There was more than one post, too, all dated, starting all the way back in November. All nights when Nate and the Avs were on road trips. Different cities, too, but always the same girl.

Blonder than you. Prettier than you. Better than you, apparently.

There were dozens of pictures. Some were dark and kind of blurry, but all were unmistakably Nate. 

You scrolled through all of the pictures again. Cox whined next to you. Nate still hadn’t left the kitchen, but you knew he had been tagged in all of the posts too. Texts and notifications were still rolling into your phone, from friends and family and strangers. You turned your phone off.

Then Nate was crouching in front of you, brushing your tears away. You hadn’t even realized you had been crying. You scrambled away from Nate’s touch like it burned you; his hand stayed outstretched in the air.

Just ten minutes ago, you had been beginning to think that things could get better again, that you could fix the damage in Nate, in your relationship. Now, everything you had known for the last two and a half years lay shattered at your feet, spread out for the whole world to see.

“You weren’t supposed to find out like this,” Nate murmured.

A hysterical laugh forced its way out of your throat. Your hands were still shaking, but your anxiousness had just been replaced with anger. “I wasn’t supposed to find out like this, or I wasn’t supposed to find out at all?”

Nate flinched a little, and you felt a brief flash of vindication. “I didn’t mean-”

“You didn’t mean what, Nathan? Didn’t mean for me to find out, for the whole world to find out? Or you didn’t mean to say it like that? Like you were just waiting for the right time to tell me, but it never worked out?” Nate had stood up again, but he wasn’t looking at you. “God, I was sitting around like a fool all season, waiting for you to call me, but of course you never did, because you had found someone better than me. Did she get to go to games, too, when you were flying her all across the country?”

Nate was flushed with anger now too. “You don’t understand-”

You cut him off. “No, Nate, I don’t fucking understand. I thought, I don’t know, maybe the past two years actually meant something. So tell me, make me understand, because you lost me a long time ago.”

“Just shut up!” You took a step back from Nate, though he hadn’t moved. You weren’t sure Nate had ever raised his voice at you. “We were in Ottawa in the beginning of November, and we all went out to a bar because we finally got a fucking win. She started flirting, and she had no idea who we were, and it was so nice to meet someone and not have the expectation of being Nathan fucking MacKinnon. I never had to listen to her lie to me about how well I played or some shit about how the team would figure it out, that we could get better.”

“Did all the boys know?” you whispered. “Have you all just been laughing at me behind my back all season, while I’ve been blindly in love with a boy who’s been flying another girl to all of his road games?”

Nate paled and took a half-step in your direction. You backed up again, until your knees hit the couch. “No, they- they knew I was taking the season hard, I guess, so they gave me space. Gabe might’ve been getting suspicious, but I- they would never do that to you.”

“Excuse me for not believing that. I believed you would never cheat on me, either, but here we are.” You turned to leave the room. 

“If you’d just-” Nate was angry again. You spun around, your heartbreak fanning the flames of your own anger.

“If I’d just what, Nate? Stopped caring about you and hockey? Stopped supporting you? Stopped caring about us?” Your voice broke, and you blinked back the tears burning behind your eyes. You had started out yelling again, but now your voice was quiet. “I’m sorry I tried, Nathan. I’m sorry I wasn’t good enough for you.”

You turned again, started making your way towards the stairs. 

“Wait, Y/N, please.” Nate’s voice came out desperate, like he was choking back tears. You couldn’t possibly understand why; he had done this to himself. “I never actually slept with her.”

“Good for you, Nate.” You let out a humorless laugh. “I hope the PR team has fun trying to save you and your fuck-ups. The posterboy of the Colorado Avalanche showing his true colors at last.”

Nate finally let you turn and make your way upstairs. He didn’t follow as you made your way into the bedroom and packed a bag with enough clothes to last you until the next road trip. He was sitting on the couch, stiff and tense, but he jumped up when you came back down the stairs. 

“Where are you going?” he asked, starting to reach out to grab your arm, but stopping himself at the last second, grasping at the air instead. “Please, Y/N.”

“I don’t know, Nate,” you sighed. “But I can’t stay here. I’ll be back to get the rest of my stuff while you’re on your next road trip. Say hi to your other girlfriend for me.”

Nate followed you outside. Cox barked once as you climbed into your car. “But-but you live here, with us! Please, let me fix this.”

You turned to Nate one last time. “You know, you could have fixed everything else that screwed us up this season. I really thought we could’ve been fine. But this, Nate? I don’t know anymore.” 

Nate flinched as your car door slammed. You watched in your rearview mirror as you drove away. His hands were shoved in his pockets, unmoving, and then he was out of sight. 

You drove aimlessly around Denver for a while. You let yourself get lost before you found somewhere quiet to pull over. Except, the breakdown, the tears, never came. Instead, you felt numb and hollow. You had really been foolish enough to believe that you could love Nate through everything, and that he would love you back. Hadn’t Sid said it seemed like you would be together forever?

When Nate showed up at the game the next night with a fresh black eye, no one commented on it. No one commented on EJ’s freshly bruised knuckles, either.

The season ended quietly. The Avs had managed to turn the season around, stop the bleeding, but they never quite could fix the damage. You had moved out of Nate’s house after the fight. You rarely saw each other anymore, but you didn’t tell him you kept going to games until the very end. You just couldn’t keep yourself away, no matter how much it hurt to watch him down on the ice.  

Nate went home to Cole Harbour. You stayed in Denver. 

Sometimes you thought back to the beginning of your relationship with Nate. You remembered what it was like when you first met, when Nate was still shy and quiet. It had been so stupidly fucking cliche, too: in a goddamn Starbucks. 

You listened to the man next to you in line rattle off a list of coffee orders, ranging from basic to borderline ridiculous. The baristas were already beginning to look overwhelmed as the cups lined up. He had the grace to look sheepish, at least, and tucked what looked like a ten dollar bill into their tip jar. You didn’t pay him much more mind after that, stepping to the side and trying your hardest to stay out of the way of other patrons while you waited. Then your grandmother had called, asking for technology help, even though you were hundreds of miles away from home, and you had other family that literally lived five minutes away from her. You were distracted and missed that a barista had called your name. You were still caught up with your phone and didn’t realize until someone was tapping you on the shoulder and tentatively saying your name.

You looked up, surprised, and your entire field of vision was filled with one very blond, blue-eyed, broad-shouldered man. First, you made the connection to him being the one with the list of coffee orders in line next to you, and then, that the man standing in front of you, struggling to balance several coffee carriers, was Nathan MacKinnon. 

“I grabbed your coffee by mistake,” he said. “It got mixed in with all our orders, and I only just noticed it had a different name on it. I’m really sorry.”

You smiled, taking your coffee. “It’s not a big deal, don’t worry about it. I didn’t even hear them call my name.” Nate still looked apologetic. “Did you lose a bet or something?” you asked then, looking at the stack of coffee cups Nate still held. 

He grinned at you. “Something like that.”

You had left the Starbucks that day with Nate’s phone number. At the time, you had no real intent to use it; you didn’t kid yourself. Nathan MacKinnon was a former first-overall draft pick, hero of the Colorado Avalanche, and you were just some girl whose coffee he accidentally stole. 

Nate texted you first. He did that a lot in the beginning. He was always a little awkward– a life spent focused on hockey meant that he wasn’t the best at small talk– but he was sweet and could make you laugh.

When he first asked you out, you said no. You had watched his face fall, watched him bite his lip and take a step back from you. You felt a surprising rush of sadness settle in your chest as Nate’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment. You had said no because you didn’t want to be just another girl, another fling that meant nothing. Suddenly, you weren’t sure if that’s all you would be to Nate, and you were a little scared by how willing you were to see how far it could go. 

“Ask me again in a couple weeks,” you said softly. Nate startled, still looking a little bit like he wanted to run. You looked up at him fondly.

Life went on in Denver that summer without Nate. You went to work. You went home to your empty apartment. Really, it wasn’t all that different from life with Nate in Denver, at least not in the last couple of months. You texted with Sid and Sarah every once in a while, but you got complete radio silence from Nate. Tyson Barrie texted you a video of Cox and Ralph playing one day in mid-July, and you could hear Nate laughing somewhere in the background. You didn’t reply. You didn’t want to admit to how many times you watched the video, just to hear Nate’s laugh again, either. 

“You are not getting my dog a fucking-what it’s called? A puppuccino?” Nate gripped his iced black cold brew tightly in his hand and glared at you. Cox sat patiently at your feet, eyeing the cup of whipped cream in your hand and licking his lips eagerly.

“It’s just whipped cream, babe! And, look, he likes them!” 

Nate raised an eyebrow at you. You had forgotten that the trips you took to Starbucks with Cox while the boys were on road trips were secret. “Y/N.” Nate crouched down and squished Cox’s face. Cox looked unimpressed. “This is a highly trained guard dog. He does not need any fucking whipped cream.” Cox’s tongue darted out and licked Nate’s nose. It was Nate’s turn to look unimpressed.

You bent down to give Cox his puppuccino. He lapped it up excitedly, getting whipped cream all over his nose and whiskers. Nate rolled his eyes at the both of you. 

“You’re not allowed to spoil our children.” You paused, still watching Cox try and get the last of the whipped cream out of the cup. Nate had never mentioned kids before, but you sometimes watched the smile he had when he played with Linnea or Sophie, even though he was still a little terrified of holding a baby. You looked at him, but he was still watching Cox calmly.

“Are you saying that Cox isn’t already your son?” you asked, only deflecting a little, and trying very hard to not picture Nate with a tiny baby of your own. 

Nate scoffed. You both looked down at Cox, who had rolled onto his back, tongue lolling out the side of his mouth. “Besides,” he said, tugging you closer by your hips, “I think Cox will be great with kids, and there’s only one way to find out.”

You just rolled your eyes.

You always had to grit your teeth and smile when someone heard that you weren’t originally from Denver and asked, pretty much without fail, if you had moved for Nate. The answer was always that you had moved for work and had met Nate by chance. If Nate was a part of the conversation, he would chip in that he’d had to work to even get you to consider dating him. He’d always kiss you after that, on the forehead, on the cheek, and he’d look at you like he was the lucky one. And you could look into his eyes and forget for a moment that you’d been upset.

You always wondered why everyone assumed you had dropped your life, your family and friends and your hometown just to follow Nate and his hockey career. Now, you were wondering if you were ready to drop your life, your friends, and everything you loved about Denver just to get away from Nate and his hockey career. 

You didn’t hear from Nate when he returned to Denver for training camp. It hurt in a way you couldn’t articulate, a bone-deep ache, a hollowness that you had never felt before, the fear that you had both let your relationship go past the point of no return while neither of you were paying attention. You thought wildly as you laid in bed alone, if you would ever see Nate again, be able to look him in the eyes and tell him you loved him one more time.

Because you did. You still loved Nate, maybe always would, and you missed him, spent the whole summer missing him, had missed him long before he went back to Cole Harbour by himself. You were terrified that you lost the best relationship you’d ever had. You were too scared to reach out to him yourself, half-sure that he’d never even respond, and that would be all you needed to know that you had reached the end. 

You watched the boys’ Instagram stories as they went golfing everyday after practice. You watched Nate smile and laugh with Gabe and Burky, though you noticed that the smiles never quite seemed to reach his eyes. You looked at the Avs’ social medias every day for the pictures they inevitably posted of Nate. He never seemed to be smiling. You would drive down near the Pepsi Center, only to see his face plastered everywhere. Seeing Nathan MacKinnon around Denver seemed unavoidable; he was on posters and on shirts and jerseys. Seeing Nate, though? Your Nate, with the lisp and the love for dogs, who yelled at his teammates on Fortnite and loved his family more than anything? You weren’t sure you’d ever see him again. 

So whether you kiss me or you close the door Just know that I'm better than I was before

You were surprised when someone knocked on your apartment door one night after dinner, only a couple of days before the regular season began. You were even more surprised when you pulled open the door to see Nate. He startled a little when you opened the door, and you leaned against the doorjamb, allowing yourself to just look at him.

His summer tan had already started to fade. He was wearing jeans, but an old Avs T-shirt, and he was picking at the fraying hem. He was no longer as lean as he was the last time you’d seen him towards the end of the season, but he looked exhausted the same way he did in the final stretch.

It hurt to look at him for long, so you cleared your throat, tore your gaze away from the dark circles under his eyes. Nate shook himself a little, looked away from the 29 on your right shoulder. You had forgotten that you had put on an old, stolen hoodie after work. For a while, it had still smelled like him, but now it didn’t smell like anything. 

“I thought you gave everything of mine back,” was the first thing he said.

You shrugged, tugging the sleeves of Nate’s hoodie over your hands. “Couldn’t bring myself to give it up.” You looked back at Nate. He looked pained. “What’re you doing here, Nate?” The exhaustion of the last couple months, the heartbreak, the worry, showed in your voice.

“I just-I wanted to see you. Wanted to try and explain, if you wanted to listen. I know I’ll never get the words right, and you could slam the door in my face right now, and I wouldn’t blame you. And if you do, I’ll leave you alone. But if you don’t, I will spend the rest of my life apologizing, trying to show you how much I love you.”

You covered your mouth to cover the sob that rose out of your chest. Nate’s eyes snapped up to yours, those bright blue eyes that you still loved so much, and he looked panicked. “Nate, I-”

“Look, if I were you, I’d hate me. Hell, EJ socked me, and I thought Sid was gonna leave me out on the lake to die when I first flew home. If you spend the rest of your life hating me, it’s all on me. You probably wouldn’t be the only one. But, fuck, Cox misses you. I miss you.” Nate stepped closer, reached out to brush his thumb across your cheekbone. 

You let yourself revel in that touch for a moment before you took a step back, clutching your door for support. “I spent all summer wondering if we were over, Nate. Wondering what I could’ve done differently.” Nate bit his lip. He was still standing in the hallway outside your apartment. You hadn’t invited him in, and you weren’t sure you were going to at all. “I don’t know if I can do this again. If I can fall in love with you, be in love with you, and watch you go off on road trips and wonder if I can ever trust you again. I don’t know if I can do this,” you repeated. 

Nate closed his eyes, seemed to be steeling himself for something. He took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. And I know it’s not enough, will never be enough, and I’m sorry for that, too.”

You hesitated. Nate blinked once, twice, fidgeted with the hem of his T-shirt again. It would be so easy, you thought, to let him back into your life. 

You closed the door.

The last thing you saw was Nate’s face, hurt but resigned. You leaned back against your door, slid down to the floor, and let the tears that had been burning under the surface for months out.

Part Two! 

[a-drienette]

Secrets at Sunrise

So, this is my first attempt at writing fanfic (which is why it’s short and not wonderfully written, so it’ll probably be my last) but this idea woke me up one morning and my mind wouldn’t let me go to sleep until I wrote it down, so enjoy this slightly angsty, slightly hopeful bit about Ladybug and Chat Noir disclosing their dating lives to each other. :)

~~~

Akuma defeated, Ladybug and Chat Noir had agreed to regroup to discuss Hawkmoth’s latest failed attempt to get their Miraculous.

Ladybug stretched her legs out in front of her, then let them dangle over the edge of the rooftop where she and Chat Noir had decided to convene. She loved how still Paris was before sunrise, when the last of the night clung to the city and a sense of anticipation hung in the air for what the new day would bring. 

“Do you think he’ll ever run out of people to akumatize?” Chat asked, sounding tired of having to wake up in the middle of the night to deakumatize yet another helpless civilian. Ladybug was exhausted too; she had barely fallen asleep when the akuma started wreaking vengeance on the city of Paris. Of course, it also didn’t help that it was a school night, so Marinette would be struggling to keep her eyes open all day. 

“Doubt it. Remember, he re-akumatized Reflekta, Chloe as Queen Bee, and Puppeteer. And don’t forget Mr. Pigeon. He’ll never get tired of it.” Ladybug plopped her head in her hand, gazing at the Eiffel Tower that stood in front of her and her partner.

“Well, at least we can watch the sunrise together.” Ladybug smiled warmly at Chat Noir, a look that, would he have seen it, would have surely melted him, but his eyes were locked on the landmark in front of him. 

Ladybug thought it was odd that he hadn’t made a flirtatious remark, but she let it drop and looked down at her polka-dotted legs, swinging them slightly. She noticed Chat shift out of the corner of her eye as if he was trying to move away from her, and she turned her bluebell eyes onto him.

Chat Noir was silent, then cleared his throat. “Ladybug, I...I have a girlfriend.”

“Oh,” Ladybug said. Why did he say it so suddenly? And why did he pass up a perfect opportunity to flirt back with her? Then again, Ladybug couldn’t recall Chat Noir being his usual flirty self lately. He wasn’t even the one to propose meeting up after the battle, it had been her suggestion. When was the last time he had called her “bugaboo” or “my lady”? There was a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach, almost like someone had just punched her. “That’s great.” It wasn’t great.

“Yeah, it is.” Chat didn’t sound convinced. A moment of confused silence fell over them as the sounds of Paris waking up slowly began to fill the air. A few birds chirping, a car or two driving down the road adjacent to the building they were perched on. 

“I, uh, I have a boyfriend.”

Chat’s head swiveled towards her so fast she thought surely he had pulled a muscle in his neck. “You do?”

“Yeah,” Ladybug admitted. “I’ve never really thought of him like that before, but I guess he is my boyfriend.”

“Oh,” Chat Noir breathed. His expression of surprise turned into that of heartbreak, an expression Ladybug as Marinette knew, and wore, all too well. He hung his head and Ladybug turned hers away, focusing on the slowly rising sun. 

After what seemed like several minutes, Chat asked in a voice barely above a whisper, “Is it the boy you’re in love with?”

Ladybug tensed, then said with a pained expression that she was grateful Chat couldn’t see, “No.”

Chat’s head swiveled again. “What do you mean ‘no’? There’s someone else?” His eyes were wide. Then his expression turned crestfallen and he looked off into the distance. “I was competing against someone else?” he murmured, barely audible, but Ladybug still heard it and heard the unmistakable hurt in his voice.

“Yeah,” Ladybug barely managed to say, her throat felt dry and now it felt like there had been two blows to her stomach.

“So you’re dating someone, but it’s not the boy you’re in love with?”

“Oh, come on, Chat!” Ladybug cried, suddenly defensive. “Sometimes you love someone and they don’t love you back! So you have no choice but to move on!” 

Chat Noir looked at her in a way she wished he never would have; the heartbreak, despair, and anger he was feeling all stared back at her. She had never seen him this way before.

“I know. Believe me, I know.”

They were silent.

“I should go,” Chat said. He got up and turned away. 

“Wait!” Ladybug held her hand out as if she could grab him and pull him back into a normal conversation full of puns and plans for defeating Hawkmoth. “You don’t have to go, you could stay. We never get to talk like this, just us two with no akuma threat.”

Chat Noir started to turn back towards her, then stopped and said, “It’s cool. I’ll see you tomorrow or later today probably.”

He extended his staff, took a step, then pivoted back towards her. “Thank you anyways, Ladybug.” He flashed her a quick, kittenish smile. 

And then he was gone, jumping over rooftops until he faded from her view.

Ladybug looked down at her hands, wondering why it felt so wrong to call Luka her boyfriend and why she wanted Chat Noir to stay with her, more than anything. She had seen the same playful smile every day, but it was suddenly stuck in her head. A puff of air escaped her nose as she scoffed at herself. A breathtaking sunrise over the city of Paris sat before her and she had the best seat in the house, but all she could see was that cat’s smile. 

With a strange sadness mixed with a feeling Ladybug thought was only reserved for a different boy with spring green eyes and golden hair, Ladybug watched the sunrise by herself.

~~~

If you made it this far and took the time to read all that, I love you. 

♡ a-drienette 

[artxyra]

Her Little Robins

Note: So This was supposed to be a longer (damn near 8000 words) one-shot, but after much thought, I decided to break up the mini-stories that I had placed at the end and decided to upload them separately. 

There is one person that Damian would even dare look up to and he hasn’t seen her since before his mother brought him overseas to his father. She was the closest thing he had gotten to a mother figure despite being the opposite. Within the League of Assassins, she was on par with his own mother, but she was just as untouchable. She barely had any free time, between taking on League missions and living her life in the outside world. No one knows how she even became involved with the League but there was one thing he knew for sure. It wasn’t long after his conception.

For the past year, he has been under the care of his father, the very person he doesn’t belong to. Even after a year, his father still doesn’t understand him. He shows his love differently. He doesn’t belong in this broken household. Damian wasn’t sure how he even managed with all the fighting. Though there is one thing he would never admit—is that he cares. Caring was one of many hidden traits he had picked up from her.

His father doesn’t know how to care for him, but at least he tries to. Which is more than he can say about his mother. She never cared, in fact, the only time she cared was placing him into her arms. The fresh smell of apple blossoms always calming him down. That scent was more home than anything he has ever been to.

The last time he saw her—was the first time he had ever cried. Her arms wrapped tightly around him as she tells him her goodbyes. Making promises that he knows would never be kept. She was leaving to save both of them—to save him. Damian could never admit it to himself, but the night she left was the night his grandfather had declared that Damian was of age to determine his loyalty. A trial that would surely end in his or her death.

He hated going to sleep that night. The cold welcoming his return. There was no apple blossom scent laying beside him. No hand caressing his hair as he fell asleep. No French lullaby that was specifically made for him being sung. Just the harsh winds.

“Be brave my petit oiseau. Luck will always guide you in your journey.” She whispers to him every night as he loses consciousness. Those words would forever stick with him. Just like his father’s statement “Justice not vengeance” would. Though he would prefer the one from her over any others.

It’s been three years since then.

Today he wasn’t sure what to do, the anniversary of her disappearance was approaching, and his father’s family still didn’t understand why he is crankier—or what they would say brattier—during this time. He just wants to be alone.

“My, my, petit oiseau, someone sure missed moi.” It was the way she always greeted him when he was little, and they were alone. Damian’s little legs would wrap around her own as she bends down to scoop him into her arms. When he was younger, he felt freer being around her. Her laughter was contagious. She would extend her pointer finger against his nose and giggles before blowing raspberries into his cheek which then caused him to laugh.

Instinctively, Damian curls into himself. He misses those feelings. Feelings that he’ll never get from his family at this rate.

So deep in his memories, Damian doesn’t remember entering the library, picking up a book, and finding comfort in the couch. He looks at the book that was opened in front of him. It was written in French. He has been in this room plenty of times and has skimmed every book at least once, so why does this book seem like a distance memory? The title was so familiar, but he couldn’t place it.

Behind him, he hears a gasp, “Little D, do you have any idea what that is?” Great, it was Grayson, the fourth person he didn’t want to see this evening.

“A book.” The youngest Wayne deadpans placing the book down on the couch and getting up to take his leave.

Before he could walk out of the door, he heard Grayson shout something, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care enough to listen.

As he walks back to his room, that French book stayed on his mind. The cover’s art style was unique, and it reminded him of her. She would draw him small artwork pieces and sometimes let him join her in the process, in fact, he still has the majority of the drawings that she and he made locked in a box underneath his bed. Then there was the book’s dedication page: “À tous mes petits oiseaux qui ont besoin de chance dans leurs moments les plus sombres.” That he could easily translate to: “To all my little birds who need luck in their darkest moments.” He needs to know more. Maybe that book holds the missing piece in finding her? He wants her back in his life, now more than ever.

However, that doesn’t explain how his father owns such a book. Let alone the reaction he had gotten out of Grayson just by holding the book.

~*~

“Hold on, you’re telling me that the demon reincarnated found Pixie’s book?” He heard Todd asks when he was on his way to the library. It was clear that Grayson had grabbed the book once he had left and gathered the rest of his non-blood-related siblings.

“Yes, that is exactly what I’m telling you. When I had entered the room to tell him that we are expecting a guest soon—which I couldn’t—he appeared to be in deep thought staring at the book. Like that isn’t usual at all.” Grayson explains and out of everything his older brother said, the word guest caught his attention. It was rare when his father invited people to the manor that has nothing to do with charity, galas, or potential business agreements. A guest usually signifies a Justice League member or a new sibling (something that he knows doesn’t need to happen).

“Isn’t this usually the time when the demon gets all moody?” When did Drake even pay attention to him? Of course, he is always moody, and he has good reasons for that.

“You actually pay attention to the little shit, Replacement? This is laughable, you’re usually the last one to notice anything.” Todd laughs to which Damian had the itching need to grab his katana and slice Jason in half. Though he had to agree, it was laughable as it was Drake who noticed it despite being in a coffee-induced haze for most of the time.

“Yeah, yeah,” Drake then pauses, probably to take a sip of coffee that will forever be in his hands. “That doesn’t explain how he would find Bean’s book interesting. Only those of us that have met her would find that book interesting as it’s—”

“We know!” Together Grayson and Todd scream.

“Look guys we can either keep hovering over the fact that Damian found her book or let it play out and see where it goes, just like Bruce and Alfred did for us.” Drake sounded tired which wasn’t usual but more tired than normal at this time of day.

“As much as I hate it, I agree with Replacement for this,” Todd responds without a doubt looking at Grayson when he said it.

Damian could hear Grayson sigh of defeat. The room goes silent just enough for Damian to make his presence known.

“What’s so important about the book?” He asks stepping across the threshold and eyeing the book that is in Grayson’s hand.

At once his brothers try to answer but one look at Damian’s face; they knew they could lie themselves out of it.  So, they opted for the oldest to speak.

“Look, Little D, this book means a lot to the family. The fact that you picked up just gave an insight into something we didn’t think you would have.” Grayson starts to which Damian tsks and looks away. He hated having this much attention on him, and the short explanation still didn’t answer his question.

“Then what makes this book so important to the family, that I had no idea of its existence until today?” Damian growls through his teeth. His brothers only look between one another which only made Damian even more agitated. “You know what, never mind.”

“Damian—” Dick is cut off by the door slamming in his face. He could only sigh in defeat as the figure of his younger brother disappears.

“So, what now?” Tim asks before taking another sip of his coffee. It was clear that his older brothers don’t know what to do.

Jason decides that now is the best time to take the book from Dick and throws himself onto the couch. He begins to read the book as if it was his only source of peace.

~*~

For Jason, the book was the only close connection he had to her. She was the mother he always dreamed of, and he hated it when she would leave for long periods of time. He hated not taking her offer to live with her. Months before his death, she had asked him to live with her, be the caretaker of her apartment back in France, but he had declined. Being Robin was all he ever wanted, and she knew that, but he also knows that something spooked her. She never did ask that again after the first time, and it kind of saddens Jason a bit.

The night before his death, she had called him asking for him to stay safe. To not get cocky about anything while being away. Stay in contact with Bruce, in fact, she specifically told him not to leave Bruce’s side. He should have listened to her warnings that night. Just maybe he wouldn’t have died by the hands of the Joker.

When he was revived with the Lazarus Pit, one of the first things he acknowledged was the words “Qu'est-ce qui vous est arrivé mon petit Jaybird?” What happened to him? He didn’t know what was happening. He was feeling so many negative emotions at once that he couldn’t differentiate anything. The last thing he remembered from that encounter was a pair of lips pressing against his forehead. The next thing he knew, he was lost somewhere he didn’t know but he somehow knew he had to find himself.

When he came back to Gotham under the impression that Bruce and everyone around him needed to go, it wasn’t Bruce that stopped him. No, it was her. She appeared between them with tears streaming down from her mask. He couldn’t harm her, not after everything she had done for him. It felt so wrong to have his fingers itching to pull the trigger, but he couldn’t let it go. Bruce needed to pay for giving up on, for replacing him.

They didn’t even exchange words, her tears were enough. She walked over to him, taking the gun away from him and gently placing it on the ground. He felt so alone as she pulled him into her arms whispering the French lullaby, she sang to him when he was down.

Jason doesn’t remember what happened next after that, but what he does know was that he had woken up in the manor and Bruce and sitting in an armchair beside his bed. They didn’t speak to one another—why it was because they didn’t know what to start with. Hellos? No, they already knew each other. I’m sorry? Not even an option, they’re too stubborn to admit anything. It was just a moment of silence. Not for the dead but for all the pain that they were enduring.

As he read the familiar words, Jason wonders how his life would have been having she not been a part of his life. She always knew what to say and when to say it. Never judging them for wanting to be heroes vigilantes. She was the glue that kept this family together aside from Alfred, and they all miss her.

“Hey Jaybird,” Of course it was Dick who had to return and ruin the moment.

“What do you want? Can’t you see that I’m reading?” Jason doesn’t take his eyes away from the book, it’s not like he could have anyway. Her words always had a way of entrapping the reader until the very end.

“Bruce wants everyone in the living room.” Dick answers pointing to the open door that was close just minutes ago. Jason huffs and places the book back on the shelf.

“Alright, let see what B has in store for us.” Jason walks past Dick and into the halls. Dick just stares back at the location Jason had placed the book. He was tempted to go grab it, but he knows, keeping Bruce waiting sounds like a bad idea especially since he asked for the family.

~*~

In the living room, Damian sat moodily in the armchair. Arms folded and all. He would look up to glare at his family members still thinking that they were all beneath him in taking the Wayne name.

“So, tell us, Bruce, what is the real reason you have us all gather here?” Jason observed the way the room was structured. Alfred was standing next to Bruce like usual while everyone else just sits and waits for the other shoe to drop.

“It has come to my attention that Damian found M’s book.” Bruce turns to his youngest, who was clearly lost in thought. Something he never thought would happen to Damian. Then again this isn’t the first time it has happened. “Damian, have you ever meet a person under the name of Marin Etta? Marin? Mari?” With each name, Damian shakes his head.

For Damian, the names were foreign. She was always Tatie to him as she never really spoke of her real name. It was mention once, but it has been so long that he had forgotten. In fact, tatie was the first word she taught him in French before moving onto the basics.

“No father,” Damian denies and leans back into his seat. Bruce sighs.

“Little D, you must have met her.” Dick states pointing fingers.

“Before this becomes a brawl, I would like to announce that she’ll be sending gifts to the manor,” Alfred states causing the boys, aside from Damian, eyes to bug out. Tim had to rub his eyes to make sure that he was awake.

~*~

For Tim, she was more than someone he looks up to. She was a person that he could rely on and rant to. When he first arrived at the manor, yes, he was excited, but at the same time frightened beyond disbelief. She picked up on this and offer to take him to her favorite little coffee shop. To this day, Tim swears she owns the little cozy coffee shop that they always go to when they needed a break. Those visits were always just the two of them and no one else.

Tim remembers when he took up the Robin mantle, she was furious at Bruce and even yelled at him for bringing into the battle when he was just a child. He is sure that when the Joker first captured him it was her that found him and took out the Joker, not Bruce. The only proof that he had from that encounter was Bruce looking like he was chewed out by his mother once he had recovered.

She was more than just a team member—she was family. The person that introduced him to the secret of making the right coffee. Something that everyone around him would look down upon. To Tim, coffee was more than his life source; it was a reminder of everything she ever did for him. It was one of the few connections he had to her and he doesn’t want to lose that.

So just being told that she is sending them gifts was such a surprise. She never just sends random gifts; her gifts were always well thought out. Planned for the person receiving the item. Tim had once received a coffee recipe book, something that he vows never to use unless she is with him. He couldn’t risk is family taking away another source of coffee for him.

Sure, they could go visit her whenever, but she never sticks around in one place. Tim remembers the time he tried to track her down and he came up with dead ends after dead ends. Not even Bruce could find her and he’s the world’s greatest detective.

~*~

“When do they arrive?” Dick had practically shouted earning Tim’s attention, something that is usually locked on coffee and or paperwork.

Alfred raises an eyebrow and shakes his head. Tim knows the family butler already knows the answer. It most likely that the gifts had already arrived, and he just wants to see them suffer over it.

“Master Damian please come with me.” Alfred requested to which everyone eyes the youngest Wayne. Damian was unsure what Pennyworth wanted with him and the fact that it was him and not his father, he was feeling anxious.

“Of course,” Damian answers getting out of his seat.

Dick watches the baby bird walk away from the family. He wasn’t sure what to expect from this encounter. Alfred rarely asks for them individually. Though he was heavily thinking about the presents his big sister figure may have brought him.

“Don’t even think about it, Dick.” Bruce grunts seeing the devious look in his oldest eyes. Dick blanches and turns around; he had some searching hacking to do. Knowing that Alfred would have hidden the items somewhere within the manor, he knew just where to start his journey. Years of being a part of the Wayne household has its perks, especially being trained by her to find all the hidden spots.

She was only a couple of years older than him. It never made sense to call her his aunt when they were so close in age. She was also the first person that Dick confided in after his parents’ deaths. She was with Bruce when he went that show, and she was first to comfort him even before the cops could take his statement. To traumatize by what he just saw, he didn’t comprehend the lullaby she was singing in French to soothe him.

Dick would never forget how she took it a part of herself to make sure that the manor felt like a home. Bruce was gone every night tracking down Zucco. She made sure he didn’t feel alone, uncared for. If it wasn’t for her, Dick doesn’t know what would have happened to him.

“Les étoiles sont brillantes ce soir, Dickie.” The stars are bright tonight, she had once said to him the night he was thinking about running away. He had everything packed and all he needed to do was open that window and jump out. Her voice caught him by surprise, so much that he had almost forgotten what he wanted to do.

In the end, he cried his heart out to her and she let him do it. He doesn’t remember what happened next, but the next day Bruce actually showed up for breakfast and sat down with them. It wasn’t long after that that he would become Robin.

~*~

Damian didn’t know why Alfred was leading him outside the manor. It’s not like he had forgotten to take care of Alfred the cat and Titus. Alfred stops short of the gazebo that is rarely in use unless someone plans on making a romantic dinner date of some kind. Damian was about to ask Alfred why they are here when a familiar feminine voice speaks. This voice was etched into his brain and before he knew it his arms were wrapped around a person’s torso.

“My, my, petit oiseau, someone sure missed moi.” He didn’t want to look up, too afraid for this to be a dream. Damian didn’t care if his cheeks were becoming wet, he just wanted to hold her tight. Never letting go. “Petit oiseau, oh how you have grown.” She speaks again, her hands caressing his hair to which he doesn’t complain.

“Tatie, tu me manques tellement.” Damian cries out hiding his face into her shirt. Moments later, he looks up to be greeted by the bluebell eyes that he loved so much. He never realized how much her eye color reminds him so much of Bruce’s. Though her eye color holds so much love and emotions, more than what he can say for Bruce’s.

“Petit oiseau, I am here now. How are you? Have you been treating your father well? Oh, Dami, I knew I should have taken you with me.” She says as she walks them over to the bench and sits down. She could see that Alfred was standing off to the side smiling at the duo.

Alfred then mouths, “I’ll leave you two be” to her, to which she nods and turns her attention back to Damian.

~*~

Returning the manor, Alfred was greeted by an excited Dick and Jason. He knew what they wanted; they wanted the gifts, but the gift is currently outside hugging her surrogate son.

“Master Richard and Master Jason, is there something you need?” He asks with an eyebrow raised. Alfred was known for a lot of things—he is required too in order to keep the manor afloat.

“Hey, Alfred, where is Little D, and how soon we will be receiving those gifts?” Dick asks as he and Jason share a forced smile. Alfred wasn’t buying it.

“Moments after the young master is done receiving his own.” With that, Alfred walks off with a smirk plastered on his lips.

All the Wayne men in the room look at one another.

“Hold on, did he just say that the Demon Spawn, is receiving his gift right now…what the flying fuck did he get?” Jason screams out and he would have stalk after Alfred if it wasn’t for Bruce’s glare practically telling his son not to do it, so instead, Jason huffs.

“It can’t be anything good if it’s for the demon,” Tim states finally coming alive from his coffee-induce haze. The teen was unsure of what was happening, but he knows it was a tense situation.

“We’ll wait for Damian to come to us.” Bruce says, “If the gift is dangerous, we’ll take matters into our own hands.” That was enough to prevent his sons from going after their younger brother.

~*~

Damian was having the time of his life being close to his tatie. He spoke to her with so much enthusiasm about his pets, mentioning his dreams in opening up an animal shelter, all the pranks he did on his brothers. Damian even showed her pictures of Titus and Alfred the cat was which is something he rarely does; heck, he doesn’t really show pictures of his animals to Jon, his best friend.

“That is wonderful, Damian.” She spoke with such a light laugh.

“Hold on, Tatie, how did you know that I was here?” Realization finally settles as Damian wraps his head around the fact that she knew where he was. They haven’t seen each other in three years and surely, she didn’t find his mother and demanded answers.

She sighs and allows Damian to sit up from his resting position. “Damian, I knew you were Bruce’s child since before you were born. There is a reason why I love that you call me Tatie because I am your aunt. Bruce is my older brother. My real name is Marin Etta Wayne, but most people call me Marinette.” She explains staring into his forest green eyes. Tears swell in her eyes almost like she was afraid to tell him everything.

Damian didn’t know how to react. Happy? Furious? Confused? He was so conflicted that he was rendered speechless. This person has been in his life since birth, has done more for him than his own parents, was actually his biological aunt.

Instead of reacting out of anger, he wraps his arms around her and mumbles a series of thank you in various languages. Her explanation solidifies the fact that she’ll never leave him.

“Je t'aime, mon petit oiseau.” She whispers to him.

They stay in silence until Alfred makes himself known with a loud cough. Damian had fallen asleep in her arms to which she was happily content with holding him. She looks up and gestures for Alfred to come closer.

“It seems that the young master enjoyed his gift,” Alfred states looking at the sleeping eleven-year-old. Marinette moves to scoop Damian into her arms. He was a lot heavier than when he was six. After getting into a comfortable position, she turns to Alfred.

“Has Brucie done this for him, before?” She asks as they begin to walk back to the manor.

“On occasion, usually when he is late coming in as Robin. Though it is nice to have you around again, Marin Etta, your presence always begin joy to the family.” Alfred answers, “Are you staying for the night?”

“Not tonight, Alfie. I’m sure the boys will go crazy over Damian’s gift until they see what it actually is. I’ll give them a shock tomorrow and stay for the rest of the week. Vic is helping Helena with some things, so I got time to spare for once.” She replies explaining her reasoning.

Alfred simply raises an eyebrow, he knows she’s withholding information from him, but he also knows that she will do anything to keep her problems under wraps. That’s the reason why she never told Bruce she was Ladybug until after the defeat of Hawkmoth and the creation of her vigilante persona, Kismet.

“In that case, I’ll take the young master and put him to bed. I will see you in the morning.” Marinette hands him Damian who didn’t want to leave her. He managed to tighten his grip around her despite never once waking up. Only after did she whisper promises of seeing him the next day did he release his hold on her and latch onto Alfred.

When Alfred walked inside with the sleeping Damian, he was bombarded by those he considers grandchildren. Jason was beyond in disbelief to see a koala version of the demon that usually glares at them. Tim thought he was hallucinating to the point where he pours the remains of his coffee out the window and walked away sluggishly. Dick was cooing and taking pictures, more than likely saving them for blackmail material. Bruce was wondering what put his youngest to sleep before even going on patrol. He knows that Alfred knows but getting information out of the butler is an impossible task.

“I guess Robin will not be joining us tonight?”

“That is correct, sir. The young master had tired himself out with his gift today. Shall I put him to bed or would like to do that honor?” Alfred answers readjusting the pre-teen in his arms. Bruce nods and takes Damian away from Alfred. It was moments like these that he misses. When his sister was younger, he would hold her and just holding her made him feel complete. Holding Damian was similar in feeling considering his height and weight.

~*~

Dick, Jason, and Tim were jealous of Damian. He had received his gift the day before and here they were sitting at the dining room table waiting for Alfred to show up. Damian had this smug look on his face the second his brothers bombarded him with questions regarding his present. He doesn’t give any indication that it was a person but an animal. That got his brothers to leave him alone for a moment.

Bruce had been the last person to enter the room. He was working on Wayne Enterprise paperwork that should have been completed earlier but wasn’t. Alfred walks in with a tray of food. As he set the plates down, they immediately took notice of an extra plate. Before either of them could question the butler, they heard someone say, “Bonjour mes amours!”

Before anyone could react, Damian runs out of his chair and into her arms. He wraps his arms around her and glares at his family members, daring them to come at her.

“My, my, petit oiseau, someone sure missed moi.” She chuckles returning the hug to the younger male. Damian doesn’t say anything, he just stays in her arms.

While the family stares in shock of seeing Damian showing emotions, it was also the shock at the arrival of the one person that hoped to show up soon.

“Mari!” A series of excited shouts echo through the room. Jason was the next person out of his seat and trying to push Damian away for space. Damian fought back, nearly biting Jason’s hand just so he could stay in his tatie’s arms. Jason glares his younger brother.

“Oh c’mon, there’s enough of me to go around.” She chuckles sending Jason a sheepish smile, “Dami, can you let go so that I could hug Jay-Jay and the others?” She looks down at the young boy, only to feel that his grip had tightened around her. She knows that he would not let go. “Dami, I promise to make you some of my infamous shortbread cookies.” At that request, Damian reluctantly lessens his grip.

“You imbeciles only have one minute with her,” Damian growls turning to his family acknowledging the fact that they also know his tatie. “59, 58, 57…” He starts to count down.

The older Wayne children knew he was serious, and they immediately jump to hug Marinette. Dick was smothering her having taken onto wrapping himself around her torso. She manages to stay afloat by resting Jason and Tim who were side hugging her. It surprised her that it wasn’t Jason who had the running start but wasn’t shock that it was Dick instead.

“10, 9, 8…” They all heard Damian continue. The moment the young Wayne managed to get to zero, he let out a battle cry and begins pushing his brothers out of his way. Damian latches himself onto her and glares at anyone that came within a certain radius of her.

“How the hell does the demon know Pixie, when he literally had no clue who she was yesterday,” Jason shouts as the excitement of seeing Marinette dies down among everyone.

Marinette chuckles and scoops Damian into her arms. If it was anyone else, Damian would have squirmed, complained, and demanded to be let down, but this is his tatie and he has little care for what his brothers think of him right at this moment.

“That’s because all Dami has ever known me to be was Tatie.” She explains as Damian grumbles into her neck.

“Wha!” The boys yell stimulatingly to which Marinette looks everywhere but at her nephews.

“How about this, let's finish eating the wonderful breakfast Alfred made first, then I will explain it all afterward.” She suggests walking over to the table as everyone behind her follows. They know to not disagree with her. She has just as much power as Alfred and could most likely get away with murder.

While they ate breakfast, there was growing tension. Everyone, aside from Alfred, Marinette, and Damian, wanted answers. Bruce watches his sister eat her portion of breakfast; he knows something was going on. Then he saw how quickly his youngest reacted to her like there was some form of bond that they share that he didn’t with his own son. Bruce isn’t that dense; he knows that without her his life would be filled with so much darkness and pain. She made everything tolerable, kept the family together even in their darkest of days.

When breakfast ended, they all gather in the living room. Titus trotted over to his owner and lay beside him.

“So, who’s first?” She asks as she pets Titus’s head as he was close to her and he let her.

“Back to my question before, how the hell do you know the demon?” Jason practically shouts pulling his ear.

“I’ve practically known about since his birth. Actually… even before he was even born. I knew Talia was up to something when she was constantly trying to get into Bruce’s good graces. As we all know, my ability to sense something is wrong is almost never incorrect. So, I followed her to the League of Assassin under a new identity. I was about to leave, but then she announces that she was carrying the league’s heir. I knew the child was going to Bruce’s.” She turns to Damian with a sad smile on her face. To this day, she hated the way Damian came into this world, but she would never give him up for anything.

“You side missions?” Bruce wonders aloud.

“Yes, when I wasn’t with the miraculous court or with the JL, I was with Damian watching after him. I became his caretaker when Talia took it upon herself to be his mentor rather than a mother. Did you know I was the first person to hold him? He had such a small tuft of hair.” Damian blanches when she started to gush about his childhood. He likes to keep that under wraps, but he wasn’t going to complain.

“Are you back for real…now?” It was Tim that has asked that.

“Oh, my petit oiseau de café, I’m here to stay. I can’t have you running Gotham without me.” Marinette answers with a wink, but she can tell by the looks of deadpan facials from the males she knew that they didn’t buy it. “I’m staying until the court needs me. That and I’m sure Kismet can bring a little luck to this city of darkness.”

“With that answer…welcome home, Sunshine!” Dick screams with excitement before flinging himself to his sister figure. Marinette catches the taller bird and laughs. However, the embrace didn’t last long as Damian pushes Dick off of her and takes over the filled space.

“Oi, she’s mine, you dolts, get your own.” Damian hiss at his brother who looked beyond offensive.

“Oh, hold on!” They all shouted, “We knew her first, you little demon.” This quickly became a tug-of-war for Marinette, who looks sheepishly between the boys, but she couldn’t help but laugh.

The second, Marinette was able to slip away from his nephews, she made her way over to Bruce. They didn’t say anything, though Bruce did hold his arms out waiting that that hug that they always do. Their embrace was not a short one.

“I miss you, Bruce.” She mumbles into his shirt.

“I miss you too, M.” Bruce pauses placing a kiss onto her forehead. “So, tell me about what happened in Brazil?” Marinette’s eyes widen at that request. She knew she had to come up with something fast, but she also knows that her big brother wouldn’t let that go. Brazil was an authorized JL mission that she joined Question and Huntress on, that didn’t end well per se.

“Oh, look the boys are about to break something.” She squeals turning their attention to the four brothers still wrestling on the floor. Sure enough, a loud crash is heard.

Bruce groans and wanted to yell at his sons for being too rough, but this was a typical morning. The boys would rough house at least three times a day before they all separated. Then again, it really depends on whether Jason and Dick decide to stay at the manor for long periods of time.

“Boys!” Marinette shrieks getting their attention to which they had the audacity to pretend that nothing had happened. They don’t want to play that game with her. There is a reason why she rules the manors better than Bruce.

“Yes, Tatie,” Damian speaks up first resisting the urge to run over to her and hug her in an attempt to make his brothers jealous. Who was he kidding, he would totally do that anyway just for the hell of it.  

His brothers glance at him; however, it was clear that Jason was glaring more so than anything.

“What?” Damian shrugs, “She clearly wanted our attention, isn’t that right, tatie?”

Marinette sends Damian a smile that the family knows all too well, that smile was not her usual friendly ones, it was sinister. “Oh, petit oiseau, you have no idea. Now, it still early in the morning, and I don’t want to spend my first day with the family babysitting you four, or do I need to call the girls have girls’ day with them instead?”

The looming threat of having the girls spend time with Marinette instead of them was enough for everyone to nod in agreeance.

“Now who wants to be the first to read my newest family book?” Bruce silently raises his hand which she sees out of the corner of her eye. Digging into her purse she pulls out a new book with an enchanting cover with the title written in French. She then hands it to Bruce despite the cries of protest from her nephews.

“I saw his hand first, actually I saw Alfred’s first, but he already read it. Didn’t you, Alfie?”

“Of course, I did, Miss Marin Etta, it was another novel that will go into the family history.” He smiles at her, to which Marinette sends him a blushful smile.

“Thank you, Alfie. Now, who’s up for a family drawing session?” This time the boys gather around her. Damian hisses at his brothers daring them to come any closer as practical koala himself into Marinette’s arms. Jason stares at the little traitor, planning his downfall.

“I should have introduced Damian to her when he first arrived. That would have saved us so many headaches.” Bruce groans happily acknowledging the sudden change in his youngest at the sight of his sister.

“That would correct, sir. Shall I prepare you some tea and scones while you read Marin Etta’s book?”

“Yes, thank you, Alfred.” Bruce pauses for a moment to open the book, he is immediately greeted with the dedication page, a smile appears on his face, “Actually Alfred, how about you go spend time with M and the boys after you’re done.”

“Are you sure, sir?”

“Yes, I’m sure. I know you miss her just as much as the rest of us.”   

Bruce turns his attention back to the dedication pages that read, “Une famille qui se bat ensemble reste ensemble même quand tout semble perdu.” A family that fights together stays together even when everything seems lost.

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[lisinfleur]

In your arms

The request:

Author’s Notes | Fuck the whole universe. I can't see that shitty ending for our pup and not doing anything about this. So, here is the first of the many things I'll write to correct what made us bleed in this last season of our beloved show! Hope you guys like it! Universe | Vikings Pairing | Hvitserk x Reader Info | Viking age AU, fixing plot AU, requested by anon. Words | 2941 ⁑ Warnings: Spoilers ahead. Mention to major character’s death, some angst.

"No brother! You've done your work! Do not interfere anymore. All my life has been a preparation for this moment. Stay back."

The sound of Ivar's voice and their last conversation for a long time populated his mind.

The many times they'd tried to reach for each other's ends and failed miserably made sense all at once in a single sentence.

"I could never kill you..."

What was left untold for their whole life, finally spoken.

"I love you. Now go. Go!"

Screams of strength and bravery overcame Ivar's final words of fear in Hvitserk's mind.

"Are we afraid of the death? No!"

For days he laid among the Christians after burying his brother like a true Viking lord, ensuring whoever was to find his grave would know what his brother wanted...

"Here is the grave of the most famous Viking that ever lived!"

The last promise he made before his little brother's eyes were lost from his to go into the golden doors he wasn't able to see, but was sure were open for Ivar to enter, engraved in his mind as if they were marked by fire.

"No one will ever forget Ivar, the Boneless."

He had to do it. He had to push forward his brother's legacy and what better way than doing what Ivar intended when they came back to stand on those cursed lands once again? Those poisonous lands that took his father, two of his little brothers, and the memory of the older one from who he separated in that place. That terrible place.

He would burn that place to ashes! And then he would spread those ashes over Ivar's grave like a gift to his brother's memory.

And so... He would come home. To fulfill one last promise also marked on fire in his mind and his heart.

"I'll come back, Y/N. I'll come back to you."

He had just found you after the many years of tragedy in his life. So, you became his secret in Kattegat. A secret he didn't tell not even to his beloved little brother, afraid somehow Ivar's hands could reach and rip his heart from his chest one more time.

You served his tables when he was younger and became a free woman since no one was caring about the fleeing slaves in the middle of that whole war he and his brothers fought with each other. But you'd never forgotten him and when he came back with his brother under the angry words of the town, you came after him, spoke of long-gone times and memories. And you offered your services for him who was once a good master in exchange for his mercy since now you were lost and helpless in the middle of the confusion Kattegat had become with so many rulers in so little time.

It didn't take too long for him to see you were a gift the gods had blessed him with. In a matter of days, his heart was bent.

To fall in love with you was easy. To leave you at the cabin when the time to leave had come was the hardest thing he'd ever done.

You cried in his chest and he could still remember how hard it was to hold your tears. He knew it could be his last battle... You knew he could never come back from that trip. But they had to do it.

You couldn't argue with his fate.

You couldn't beg him to stay.

So, you made him promise he would come back to you and swore you would wait for him. To warrant his promise was real, he left his recently recovered arm ring in your hands.

His fingers touched the pendant on his chest. Another hacksilver, placed alongside the one he had earned from his father on his necklace. You had given that pendant to him saying you wanted it back and so, he would have to come back to give it back to you.

Sometimes Hvitserk would wonder what was in your mind now. He knew the news of Ivar's defeat and Harald's death had reached Kattegat at that point. Would they say he was dead as well? Did they know he was a prisoner for so long?

Would you be there, waiting for him yet?

Promises were promises. Things were close to an end.

Hvitserk stopped a moment to admire his little brother's mind and toughness once again: it was hard as fuck to play games with the Christians and mislead them was one of the hardest things he ever had to do. Hvitserk was a berserker. The mindless battle was his favorite game and those mental games were Ivar's specialty.

Maybe it was why he decided to do it that way.

Ivar's way.

It was his brother's legacy after all.

For months he had played the Christian. He accepted that stupid baptism and walked with a cross around his neck. He spoke meekly and accepted that stupid name they gave him as if it could erase everything he was and would ever be.

From behind, his crows were cawing at the Dane kings' ears at the settlement beside Wessex, remembering them he himself was also a son of Ragnar, fated to Valhalla, who, unlike Ubbe, wanted those lands entirely to their people as a fair payment for the lives those Christians had stolen from them.

Ragnar Loðbrók.

Harald Finehair.

Ivar, the Boneless.

The whole unavenged settlement prince Aethelwulf had destroyed years ago in time...

Their blood was considered a fair price for his people to rise. The position of third Dane king, abandoned by his older brother, was a vacancy Hvitserk was considered fitting to occupy.

Under the mantle of lies and with the night by his side, Hvitserk dressed his armor once again and headed up to the doors of the Royal Villa to open them to his people like once his brother Ubbe had opened the gates of York for them to enter.

Standing in the middle of the gates as the army of Vikings invaded the town, Hvitserk could almost hear his brother's voice screaming and the sound of that unmistakable chariot filling the air as if Ivar was riding with them into the Royal Villa, conquering what he wasn't able to see falling in front of his eyes.

Alfred fled with Elsewith and their child. Hvitserk spared their lives as they had spared his own. What's fair is fair and Ivar would forgive him for denying the royal blood to his vengeance, but Alfred had respected his brother's death, his grave wasn't touched and his life was preserved.

But the town was on fire, invaded and taken as Ivar once planned.

With the dawn, Hvitserk received a mark on his face to resemble his crown as the third Dane King his brother didn't want to be. But he knew he wouldn't stay as much as Ubbe didn't stay.

He was wounded and tired, but Ivar was avenged and it was time to fulfill his next promise.

"I ordered them to build a shrine for you, brother. They must start soon and the Danes ensured me they'll use the stones from the royal castle to build it around your grave," Hvitserk said, touching the stones of the simple tomb he had rose with his own hands. "They'll paint runes and make sacrifices. And this place shall be marked with your story, my brother. No one will ever forget who you were and, in the future, when they find this place, everyone will know here is the grave of the great Ivar, the Boneless, son of Ragnar Loðbrók, feared by many around the world and for whom this land fell into our hands."

His fingers caressed the stone as if he could touch Ivar's face once again.

"But now I think you know I have to go... And leave you behind, brother. For you'll be always alive in my heart, but she's waiting for me. I know I never told you anything about her... I had my reasons, you know them very well," he sighed. "I did it all for you, Ivar. And if she ever gives me a son, I'll name him after you, so he can keep telling your story throughout the years. I'll never forget you, brother. Hail and farewell, Ivar. We'll see each other again when the time comes..."

Leaving behind the first hacksilver of his necklace as a gift to his brother, Hvitserk left, mounting his horse and riding towards the docks where a Dane boat was already waiting for him, ready to take him home.

For a moment, Hvitserk placed his eyes on that land once again. Maybe it was the last time he would ever see that cursed place. Maybe one day he would come back to see Sigurd and Ivar and his father as well. Or maybe, like Ivar, he would come and die there alongside the ones he loved. The time would say. Fate would say.

He was finally coming home.

The boat took ages to make a trip he didn't remember was that long. Ingrid was the new queen and he could see the awe in her eyes when he jumped out of that boat, holding himself whole in spite of his tiredness.

"We thought you were..."

"Dead, like my brother. And your husband, I suppose," Hvitserk didn't care about cutting the queen's sentence. "Release your breath, woman. I have my own crown and have no interest in the one on your head. You're Harald's wife and he was Norway's king. This is now your problem, but still, my homelands so get used to having me walking around from time to time," he said, carelessly pointing down to the ground. "Now you excuse me, your highness... I have more important matters to treat. Spare me from feasts in your hall: The son of Ragnar may be back home, but I'm tired, exhausted... All I want is to find my woman and rest in her arms."

"Your what?"

But he left Ingrid and her whole surprise behind, walking away from the boat as the Danes were preparing to move with their trip. They wouldn't stay. He wouldn't come back, at least, for now.

If he ever had to die in those cursed lands, he would do it like his father: before growing too old.

After living his whole life.

His steps were still limping and for a moment, he giggled, remembering how Ivar had limped that whole pier under horrible words where now there were smiles and grateful faces blessing his return. Would they bless if Ivar was back as well?

Oh, they would. But his brother wanted more than just their blessings.

And he wanted more than just their words.

Hvitserk straightened his cloak. His limping steps walking through the streets with many memories, sometimes sad memories, sometimes sweet ones. And as his steps shortened the distance towards his cabin, the sweetest memories came, remembering him of his sneaky movements through those streets to find you without his little brother's eyes over him. The kisses you'd exchanged. Your hands against his skin.

His heart pounded when his eyes finally reached that door. It was still the same... The cabin was still exactly as his memories could build it in his mind. But it was silent and it, for a moment, stopped everything into Hvitserk's heart.

Could it be that the news of his death had sent you away for good?

Did he take too long to come back? Did someone tell you he was turned into a Christian and you believed it was for real?

His fingers touched the door and he hesitated before knocking on it.

What if you weren't there to answer?

What if there was another with you in his place now?

It was easier to burn down the Christians' village than it was to knock on his own house's door, but the sound of footsteps inside approaching the door turned Hvitserk's mind completely blank for a second.

The lock was opened and his eyes watched as the light from outside invaded the darkened cabin, covering your figure and showing the pale tones of your apron dress.

"Now it's not a good time, I'm..."

Your voice died into your throat. And your eyes met his in a long moment of silence where the whole world seemed to be stopped along with time itself.

Hvitserk could watch as the line of your eyes filled slowly with tears. He observed as the tears became thicker and broke the line, rolling down your face. Your beautiful face... He thought so many times he would never see you again.

You sobbed, losing the strength of your legs. And Hvitserk held you in his arms, feeling the warmth of your body against his chest once again.

It wasn't one more of his dreams. You were there.

He was home.

His scent invaded your nose and your sobs engulfed you whole as you nestled into his arms, holding him so tight that your knuckles became white against his clothes.

"Shh... Hush, my sweet love. I'm here now. I'm here with you," he mumbled as your sobs became louder.

You thought he was dead.

They told you he was dead.

You cried your soul out on that pier, begging the gods to drag your body into the waters and allow you to swim towards him into Valhalla as queen Gunnhild had done after her beloved Björn.

But instead, they held you back.

And as Hvitserk's hands cupped your face before he could seal his lips against yours, tasting your flavors he missed so bad once again, you understood why the gods had given you a reason to keep yourself alive.

It was for him. You were his gift.

And the gods had decided to bless him once more.

"I brought it back to you, my love," he said, giving your pendant back with his necklace. "The other... I left with him," he mumbled.

Eyes full of sadness for his brother you knew wouldn't come back with him.

You gave back his arm ring, caressing his hand as he smiled.

"I thought I would never see you again," he mumbled.

His warm and big hand caressing your face, drying the tears from it before you could finally speak between the sobs.

"They told us you were dead, my sweet prince. I mourned alone and wanted to follow you into Valhalla to serve your feast. But the gods forbade me. They took my freedom for it wasn't my choice anymore."

Hvitserk looked at you curious, not understanding your words until you brought him into the cabin enough for his eyes to land on the basket over his bed.

"They filled me with life and entrusted me with your legacy. I couldn't go. They made me stay. And now I understand that's because you're here, my love. You're back to me."

There weren't words in his mouth anymore.

Hvitserk's steps limped towards the bed and he sat, looking at that basket with surprise and admiration. Inside, a pair of icy blues was facing him, remembering him of so much in his life inside those little eyes.

Ragnar's eyes.

Ubbe's eyes.

Ivar's eyes...

All looking at him into the little one's orbs as his son was trying to eat his own hand, hungry like himself.

"His name is Herleifr, son of Hvitserk. For he's indeed the son of a warrior and I wanted him to know where he came from..." you mumbled as Hvitserk gently lifted the little one from the basket, holding the baby against his chest.

This time it was his eye line unable to hold back his tears as his fingers gently touched the little one's hands and face.

He had seen so much death...

He had lost so much on that trip...

His hands had buried his own little brother and burned that town to the ground, but now, they were holding his future.

Hvitserk giggled.

"Herleifr... My brother shall forgive me once again. I must have to produce another so I can name it after him as I promised," he said, making you smile at his teary face.

You came closer, caressing his cheeks, drying his tears.

"We shall take care of you, my precious prince. And so, when you're healed, we shall produce as many heirs you think you want to honor all the ones you lost and more," you smiled, feeling his hand touching your face, pulling you closer so he could kiss you that way you loved so bad.

The baby cooed in his hand when your lips separated from each other and Hvitserk smiled.

"Now I'm home... Now... I'm back where I belong," he said, touching his forehead to yours, caressing your face with his thumb. "In your arms, my love. I belong in your arms and this is my place in this world."

For a second, Hvitserk could feel Ivar's eyes over him. And he smiled remembering he could be there to watch for him.

"Valhalla will wait," he said, almost being able to hear his little brother's giggle as he caressed your face, smiling at you. "I have a whole dynasty to produce with you first."

His time to find his beloved ones at Valhalla would come, he knew that. But until there, he would enjoy his place in Miðgarð and produce as many heirs as you were up to bear for him.

His time to fight was over for now and now it was time for him to be happy. And he would, by your side.

By your side, he would.

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[marvel-medigeek-fics]

Marjan walked into the 126, sipping coffee to chase down the four Tylenol she'd taken before locking up her Jeep. She'd woken up with a pounding headache and the telltale signs of the second day of her period. Nothing she couldn't handle. After all, she'd never live down sitting out over something like this. Especially not when she worked with men and worked her ass off to prove herself worthy of walking alongside them.

She'd just avoid overdoing it. Easy enough.

--

The first call of the day had come in hot, with no room for extra pain. A load-bearing beam had been demolished, leaving two construction workers and the couple who lived there trapped under the rubble. All had survived, with only 2 broken legs between the four of them, and a few broken ribs. Could have been a lot worse, but they were all in a fair amount of pain, and Marjan couldn't help but feel guilty about her own pain. She attempted to push it down further and swallowed a few more Tylenol back at the station.

3 draining calls later, her headache was back with a vengeance and her cramps hadn't died down in the slightest. In fact, they seemed to be getting worse. She'd dealt with worse, of course, so this was nothing. At least that is what she kept telling herself. Marjan could smell Paul's cooking from upstairs and without realizing it she had unintentionally not eaten anything all day. And there it was, the source of her problem: hypoglycemia.

Paul was making turkey sausage rigatoni, one of Marjan's favorites. Paul, being the absolute dork he was, was singing along to the radio and using the spoon as a microphone. Mateo was doing the same thing with the salad tongs, and Judd was filming them and laughing. TK was laughing too, but probably because of something Carlos said rather than his hilarious colleagues. Owen was looking at his crew while doing paperwork and chuckling into his pen. Marjan leaned against the doorframe, trying to hold back a reaction to a cramp. Which were only getting worse.

"How much longer until dinner? I'm starved!" Marjan yelled over the country twang, almost making Mateo and Paul drop their utensils.

"10 minutes!" Paul yelled back, still dancing to the radio with his lower half.

Marjan took this opportunity to make herself more coffee. Not only was she hypoglycemic, but she was also exhausted. Not that she usually drank coffee, but she needed the bit of energy it was sure to give her.

"Whoa, Marwani, two cups? Who are you?" TK said, after saying a quick goodbye to Carlos when his radio went off.

"I'm tired, Strand. And can you blame me?" She was referring to one of her earlier saves today where she was the one to cut a hanglider out of a tree.

"Impressive, yes. It's still not like you to drink coffee." TK just raised his eyebrows and went back to chewing on his straw and sipping water.

"Yeah, Marjan, I thought you got your adrenaline from rescues. The natural way, as I believe you said once." Paul said, setting down the skillet of food. Mateo, setting down the salad, and Judd, setting down a roll of paper towels, both sat down after Paul. The whole table dug in. And even though Marjan had thought she was hungry, smelling the pasta almost made her want to throw up. But she took a bite, slowly forcing herself to choke it down. She forced a smile when Paul met her eyes in concern over TK's head. She was fine. She had to be.

--

After dinner and an agonizing hour of Paul watching over her like a hawk, Marjan finally escaped to the bathroom. Nausea from earlier had sort of subsided, but she still had to force down the bile in her throat. She just hoped there would be a call before she couldn't hold it down anymore. It burned a little bit, but not as much as the shame that lit her mind on fire. She breathed a sigh of relief when the Klaxons went off.

She ran downstairs, her abdomen still stinging with pain, but adrenaline was already beginning to dull it. The next call was a fire, which was great for forcing Marjan's mind off of her own selfishness.

"Whoa." The ablaze building lit up the dark sky. Sometimes it was pretty to watch something burn, but not tonight. 14 people were still trapped on the upper floors of the apartment complex, which was skyrocketing Marjan's adrenaline levels. Honestly, she felt great.

"We're going in!" Owen yelled it over the hiss of water pressure and the 6 of them went into the blaze. Usually, in a fire, everything seemed to be overwhelming, but today, the fire seemed dead silent. There was no crackle, just compressing heat.

"Austin FD, anybody in here?" Mateo yelled it through the door, his fist rapping against the wood.

"In here!! Help us!!" was the reply from inside.

"Mateo, Paul," Owen ordered, the two of them already forcing their way inside.

The remaining four trudged on. "Help! Please!! I'm in 654!! Please!!"

"Marjan, TK,"

"Got it, Cap!" TK chirped, "I'm going to kick down the door, back away if you can!!" The door flew open with a startling amount of force.

"Over here!! Under the table!!" The frantic voices called again and the duo moved to the terrified teenager.

"What's your name?" Marjan asked, biting her tongue so hard she could taste iron.

"I'm Mckenna."

"Are you the only one in the apartment?"

"Yes!" Mckenna cried out in pain, clutching her shoulder. There was a piece of glass embedded in her shoulder, and it was no wonder neither of them had noticed the shard. It was caught underneath her shirt, but since Mckenna had moved, so had the glass. Blood soaked the front of her blouse. "TK, gauze. Please." TK pressed the roll into Marjan's palm and she quickly wrapped up the wound with perfect precision.

"Let's get out of here." TK and Marjan carried Mckenna down the stairs. All three were lucky Marjan's legs didn't buckle, no matter how much they felt like they would. They passed Mckenna off to the EMTs and her sobbing parents.

"All good?" Marjan and TK asked each other at the same time.

Both of them nodded, and at least one of them was lying. Which would only become obvious when Marjan threw up into a trashcan immediately after passing the last victim, Alex, from the 8th floor off to the EMTs.

Judd happened to be the only one who noticed, which was lucky for her. "You okay, Marwani?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just shook my stomach around too much." Marjan forced her lips into a smile, to make Judd believe her. He didn't, but he knew better than to question Marjan when she had the 'fight me' glint in her eyes.

"Just take it easy. I don't want to clean up anybody's puke."

"Who says you would have to do it? Probie would." Even in excruciating pain, her quippy mouth was not impacted.

--

Back at the station, Marjan turned in early after convincing herself she didn't need any more Tylenol. She covered herself with every blanket in the fire station to no avail, she was still freezing. She moaned quietly, as to not alarm any more people she probably already had. She finally fell asleep with a dull sheen over her forehead.

"Marjan! Wake up!" TK was standing over Marjan when she woke up shaking violently. Her unwavering cramps had brought friends, but she bit her tongue again until she bled. Iron tastes better than pain.

"What?" Marjan groaned.

"Are you okay?"

"What? Of course! I'm fine!" She threw the covers off of the bed and stood up, blinking away dizziness and letting her eyes focus on her crewmates. Paul and TK were in the front, and Mateo, Owen, and Judd were making up the perimeter. Paul placed his hand on her forehead and shook his head slowly.

"No, you're not. You obviously have a fever. At least 100 degrees, if I'm not mistaken."

"You can stay here and sleep, Marjan, but you're not allowed on any other calls today," Owen said, his eyebrows heavy with worry and concentration.

"You're benching me, Captain?" Marjan looked at Owen with sad eyes. Her face was paler than usual and drenched in sweat. She looked awful.

"If he won't, I will." Mateo, who usually was painfully reserved about being bossy, put steel behind his voice. He looked like he was about to cry from worry, but his voice didn't shake and he stared Marjan down. His arms were crossed, and Marjan mirrored his stance.

"You can't bench me, probie," Marjan scoffed, before swaying and about falling into TK's arms. "I'm fine!"

"No, you are definitely not. Now sit down, before I send you to the ER for fluids." Owen locked eyes with her until she reluctantly sat down on the bed, her defiance waning. It was all gone the next time a wave of pain erupted through her abs causing her to scream. She grabbed the trashcan from the bedside table and puked violently into it.

"Go get Tommy. Now." Judd's voice was steel, and everyone else sprung into action. Leave it to Judd. Marjan groaned gutturally, a sound that broke Paul's heart. Marjan was his best friend and he'd never seen her in so much pain. So much pain that she was crying and moaning. And he had a hunch. McBurney's point.

"Ow, Paul, quit."

"You have appendicitis, girl, why didn't you say anything?" was Paul's reply, just as Tommy checked her out.

--

3 hours later, Marjan was out of surgery, and the entire 126 was sitting in the waiting room. They had done it for TK, and they'd sure as hell do it for Marjan as well. Grace had brought the entire station donuts because, in Judd's words, it was always an appropriate time to have donuts. No one had disagreed, and they all needed a bit of pick me up. Marjan having appendicitis had been a bit of a rollercoaster for all of them. Especially when they had realized her appendix had partially burst, which had caused a bit of perontinitus. Most of the 126 had been afraid she'd die because no one noticed the pain she had been in all day. It had been touch and go for a moment there and they were all a little on edge especially after TK's coma after getting shot. The incident was still fresh in all of their minds, and no one wanted to relive it. But here they were.

TK was pacing so much that he'd probably walked a marathon since they'd got here. Judd and Paul were moving too, both jiggling their legs like the world would end if they stopped. Mateo was completely still, hugging a pillow to his chest. And Owen was talking to Marjan. Her heart rate was good, ditto on blood pressure. She was just sleeping. Which fried everyone's nerves. If only she'd just open her eyes.

"One of the female nurses redid your hijab. Her name is Lily, and she says thank you for saving her sister, Mckenna. Small world, huh?"

She twitched.

"Guys!" Owen hissed and the other four men plus Grace moved quietly into the room. "Marjan?" Paul's voice sounded brittle, but he took her hand softly and squeezed it. Marjan's fingers curled around one of Paul's and she squeezed. Paul's tears shone on his cheeks as Marjan's eyes fluttered open.

"What happened?" She croaked out.

"Your appendix ruptured. We almost didn't catch it in time." Judd said over the deafening silence reverberating around the room.

"So that's why my Tylenol didn't work." She remarked.

"You were taking Tylenol for pain all day, and you didn't think to tell us?" TK said slowly, his fingers tapping on his elbows like he was disappointed. Maybe he was.

"I am female, Tyler Kennedy," Marjan said. "Think about it."

--

Paul stayed the latest with her because everyone else had early mornings. He sat in the chair beside her bed and held her hand. Paul had his appendix out when he was 22, and he knew how lonely it felt to sleep in a hospital room with no one watching over him. So he stayed and held her hand while she rested.

"I'm glad you're okay. You scared me for a while there." Paul whispered to Marjan.

"Me too, Paul. Thank you for staying with me."

"Of course."

"I have one more favor to ask, though."

"Which is?"

"Ice cream? Vegan cookie dough? Please?"

"In the morning." Paul shook his head fondly. "Everything is closed, and you should get some rest."

"Fine. I expect to see you here bright and early tomorrow with ice cream."

"I won't let you down." Marjan was already asleep by the time that he replied, snoring softly in time to her heart rate.

--

And of course, the next morning, Marjan awoke to vegan cookie dough ice cream on the bedside table along with a metal spoon and a giant get well soon card signed by every member of the 126, Carlos, and Grace. Along with a letter from Mckenna, who said Marjan could visit her anytime she wanted to, in room 216. Maybe being benched wasn't so bad.

[strawberry-skies-xx]

line

summary:  At the end of One by One, the Riders don’t get to kill Viggo. Instead, months later, they capture him, and Astrid should’ve seen the anger seething in Hiccup the entire time.

word count: 3461

tags: hiccup/viggo (mentioned), hiccup/tuffnut/ruffnut/snotlout/fishlegs/astrid, implied/referenced rape/non-con, past rape/non-con, angry hiccup, burning, torture, angst, angst + hurt/comfort, hiccup & astrid, hiccup/astrid

author’s note: inspired by evilwriter37′s fic One by One

main masterlist | story on ao3

They could feel the anger radiating off of Hiccup. Even Toothless is quiet, flying well in front of the other Riders, keeping his human away from them, and the other Riders fly well behind him. Hiccup is silent, sitting up in the saddle. Astrid would’ve felt comfortable if he was tense, would’ve at least known that this is something she could talk him down from, but no. His shoulders are loose, he stares straight out at the sky, and he’s entirely still and silent, like a stone.

Astrid hates it. Snotlout and the twins are quiet, a little scared by Hiccup’s silence. Fishlegs is unsettled; if there are any words he’d use to describe Hiccup, it would be warm. The warmth of his smile and his kindness, the fire of his anger, the flame of his passion for dragons and for peace, the spark of his interest in knowledge and dragons and when he and Fishlegs go back and forth on an invention or a philosophy or some kind of question for hours.

But this? This is cold. This is like ice, like stone, and Fishlegs rubs Meatlug’s scales when she whines quietly, sensing the tension among the Riders. Even Dagur is silent, glancing at the Riders, who give shrugs of their shoulders and similar worried glances at Hiccup.

They get back to the Edge and Hiccup lands first, dismounting quickly from Toothless and ignoring even his concerned whine as he stalks into the clubhouse. The twins and Snotlout stick close together, still shaken from what Viggo had done. Astrid and Dagur stand near the doorway, and Fishlegs on the other side of the doorway.

Hiccup leans with his hands against the table, facing away from them, head down.

Ruffnut, Tuffnut, and Snotlout are whispering to each other, conversing quietly for once, and Dagur takes some hesitant steps forward behind Hiccup. “Brother-“

“Don’t call me that,” Hiccup interrupts, voice low.

Dagur nods. “Okay. Hiccup.” He pauses, unsure, and then his hand reaches out to touch Hiccup’s shoulder. His shoulders tense up, hand twitching and tightening on the table.

Astrid’s eyes flick to it and she coughs. Dagur’s head turns to her; she looks pointedly at his hand on Hiccup’s shoulder and then jerks her eyes away.

Dagur’s mouth opens in a silent ‘o’ and he takes his hand away. Hiccup’s shoulders don’t relax, and Astrid winces. Even she is scared of Hiccup’s anger now, wonders what Viggo did to him that made him like this.

Dagur looks back at Hiccup, mouth opening, and he doesn’t get any further. Hiccup pushes himself away from the table and walks away from Dagur, stopping a few feet away.

“Hiccup,” Ruffnut says, her voice cracking, a sob working its way into it. Astrid glances over to see tears going down Ruffnut’s face, Tuffnut sitting beside her with his arms around her and his face hidden in her shoulder, presumably crying as well. Snotlout kneels next to them, staring blankly at the ground, and Fishlegs is standing nearby, looking just scared, his eyes darting around and his face a worrying shade of white.

Hiccup turns, eyes landing on Ruffnut, and suddenly the anger vanishes. His face clears, eyebrows tilting down in concern as he walks over to Ruffnut, but his body is still tense even as he starts talking in a quiet voice to her, calming her down.

Astrid and Dagur glance at each other; did you see that?

They each look back at Hiccup, who is nothing but warmth and concern and kindness now, and both of them know this isn’t over.

They settle back into their routine, though with a few changes. Now, it’s not only Hiccup that wakes up screaming from nightmares; all six of them do, and after one week of everyone waking up to someone’s screams resonating through the Edge, they start sleeping in the clubhouse. Tuffnut and Snotlout sleep together, almost always waking up curled around the other, with Ruffnut close nearby. Fishlegs sleeps close to Astrid, who would very much like to wake up curled around Hiccup, if he ever slept.

For the first month, Hiccup is even more of a light sleeper than he usually is, and he goes for nightly flights on Toothless almost every night. He also wakes up whenever one of the Riders cries out in their sleep, whenever one of them sits up with a sharp gasp and a wide-eyed, panicked scramble away from whoever’s touching them. Most of the time, he’s the one holding them as they shake and cry, and neither of them talk about it when Hiccup smiles and nods, getting a weak, shaky smile in return, and both go back to uneasy sleep.

He’s agitated, angry, frustrated; Astrid watches him pace, and then watches the shape of Toothless disappear on the horizon and not return for hours, with Toothless tired - he never gets tired, not for fun flights with Hiccup - and Hiccup doesn’t say anything. He rubs Toothless’s scales in reassurance, dismounts and smiles at Astrid before going to his hut.

Even Toothless goes up to her one night, nuzzling at her leg and whining, and when Astrid follows him to Hiccup’s hut, she finds him lit by candlelight, still reading maps of the Dragon Eye’s markings. She can barely talk him into sleeping, and there’s a dark light in Hiccup’s eyes even as he smiles at her and nods, blowing out the candle and following her demands.

Three months pass, and the nightmares happen a little less often, and his anger fades. He smiles more, he plays with Toothless and he even rolls his eyes at the twins’ antics, a small smile twitching on his lips, instead of simply raising his eyebrow at them in cold silence.

Astrid and Dagur are still worried, but they eventually forget about the anger, caught up in Hiccup’s new kindness and warmth and his bright smile and laugh, the slow recovery of all of them together as they start smiling and laughing too.

They don’t see the cold distance still in his eyes when they turn away, or the way his hands tighten when he’s left alone to think for too long.

He disguises it as a capture mission.

All the Riders feel relief at Viggo’s capture, and anger at him. They all want vengeance, especially Astrid, but he got the Dragon Eye in the months they couldn’t catch him and they need the information of where it is.

Astrid should have been worried when Hiccup offered himself for first guard duty and dismissed Toothless to sleep in her hut. She should’ve known that something was off, should’ve seen the flat fire in his eyes. Not blazing, not warm, but calculating. The fire was dying, being covered by ice, and Astrid should’ve seen it.

Hiccup sits on a stool in front of Viggo’s cell, staring at him with his hands folded underneath his chin and elbows resting on his thighs. The other Riders left a few minutes ago, closing the stable doors, and Viggo smirks at Hiccup.

“My dear Hiccup,” he starts.

“I’m not your dear,” Hiccup replies, and there’s a cold flatness to his voice. No emotion, just quiet calm, and his face is equally as unreadable.

“How’s that scar on your chest? Healing well, I hope? Wouldn’t want my work to be ruined, after all,” Viggo continues.

Hiccup smiles. “I had that burned off, actually,” he says. “Astrid did it.”

The first hint of surprise enters Viggo’s eyes. “You did? I didn’t think you had it in you.”

Hiccup smirks and stands up. “You know exactly what I had in me, Viggo.”

Viggo laughs. Hiccup only smiles flatly as he turns away, and then it fades, replaced by the same ice he’s had for months, like his emotions have been frozen over. He’s a little scared of it, but not enough to stop. Not enough to put down the metal rod from the bucket, not enough to keep it away from the pan of hot coals.

He turns around with the tip of the rod glowing red-hot in his hands, seeing Viggo’s eyes flick to it as he walks towards the cell. “You have something I want, Viggo,” he says. “The location of the Dragon Eye.”

Viggo looks up at him. “And what makes you think I hid it? It could be right there in my tent, sitting in plain sight.”

Hiccup laughs as he enters the cell and crouches down in front of Viggo, who’s tied up kneeling with his hands behind his back. “Oh, no, I know this game. This is your game- or, it was. Now, it’s my game. And I want to know where you hid the Dragon Eye. Three chances, my dear,” he hisses the last words mockingly, a cold smile twisting his mouth.

Viggo smiles smugly back. “You can’t torture me. You can’t even kill my Hunters. You Riders are too soft, too pure.”

“Aren’t we?” Hiccup asks, in the same calm, cold tone of voice, and sees the first icy slither of fear enter Viggo’s eyes. The darkest part of him relishes it. “Because, you know, Viggo,” he starts conversationally, and for once, the man is silent, finally sensing the amount of danger he’s in. “Even the best people snap sometimes. I know from experience, and I-“ he gives a short laugh, “-oh, I have been angry at you for a long time. You crossed a line I didn’t know I had.”

Hiccup swings the poker around. “That’s two chances.”

Viggo swallows, and there’s more fear in his eyes now. “You can’t do it. Come now, Hiccup. I wouldn’t give up the information even if you did torture me with what limited knowledge you have of it.”

Hiccup smiles slowly and nods. “Limited knowledge?” he asks, and stares up at the ceiling as if thinking. “The thing that comes with having so many of your enemies be interested in you is that you actually learn a lot about torture. Firsthand experience is the best experience, after all, and even if I don’t get the information, making you hurt can only be a good thing.”

“Your friends wouldn’t agree with you,” Viggo says, as a desperate attempt to save himself from the ice in Hiccup’s eyes and voice. “And what happened to being better than people like me?”

Hiccup laughs. “That’s how you’re appealing to me? You fucked that up, Viggo. When you captured me and my friends on that ship and then broke them all.” The first real emotion enters Hiccup’s eyes, but it only stokes the fire. “Do you know how many nights I held them when they woke up screaming? The crack in Ruffnut’s voice, how Tuffnut even ignored that chicken of his?”

“Ridiculous,” Viggo cuts in, and Hiccup doesn’t think. His vision flashes red, and suddenly the poker is stabbing into Viggo’s shoulder and he’s screaming. Hiccup glances at the poker, something cracking inside him, then at Viggo, whose eyes are wide as he yells and cries out and grits his teeth against the pain.

Hiccup pulls the poker away, leaving Viggo gasping, and he stares at the hot tip of it. Something’s wrong inside him, this feels wrong, he shouldn’t be doing this. He shouldn’t relish in Viggo’s screams, shouldn’t want to do it again and make a matching burn mark on Viggo’s shoulder.

The wrongness is quickly covered by ice, though, the cracks filled in, and Hiccup’s eyes snap to Viggo’s. “It’s not ridiculous,” he says sharply. “It makes Tuffnut happy, and if he wants to talk to a chicken, he can talk to a damn chicken.”

He stands up, leaving the cell and going to put the poker back. “What if I carved my initial into your chest, Viggo?” he asks, voice calm and cold again. “Or I could use Berk’s seal. I was put in charge of making a brand of Berk’s seal, just to burn into crates and other things.”

“You would brand me?” Viggo asks, a hint of surprise and nervousness in his voice

Hiccup shrugs. “I don’t know. I don’t know what I’ll do. I’ve never been like this before, so cold and unfeeling. Is this what it’s like for you?”

Viggo doesn’t respond. Hiccup picks up the poker again and sticks it in the coals, walking over to Viggo’s cell. “Astrid changed, too,” he says idly. “She flinches at every touch now, can’t stand having anything anywhere near her ass even more than before. None of us can fuck her from behind. Ruffnut is the same way.”

Hiccup presses the poker to Viggo’s other shoulder, and he grits his teeth for a long moment, until he breaks and yells. The yell builds into a scream the longer Hiccup holds it there, and he finally pulls it away.

He meets Viggo’s eyes, the emerald green blazing with heat. “You’re getting one for each of them. One for each of my friends who you weren’t supposed to touch.”

Astrid wakes to screaming.

At first, she thinks it’s one of the Riders, but she leaves her hut and they’re all coming out as well, looking around frantically.

All except for Hiccup, who’s on-

Guard duty. For Viggo.

Fuck.

They all rush to the stables, hearing Viggo’s screams echoing inside, pushing the doors open. The screams cut off as Hiccup looks up from where he’s crouched beside Viggo, a glowing red poker in his hand.

Astrid and Dagur glance at each other, remembering when they’d gotten back months ago from the incident. Hiccup had been angry, and then he hadn’t. She should’ve known.

She did know, and she ignored it.

She walks closer to Hiccup, almost inside the cell, glancing at the five burn marks on Viggo’s chest, and for the first time, she’s a little scared of Hiccup and the flat look in his eyes when he looks up at her.

“Hiccup, what are you doing?” she asks tentatively.

He looks at the poker, brow creasing and a small frown forming. Some lucidity enters his eyes. “I…” he trails off, horror slowly building on his face.

“I told you, Hiccup,” Viggo rasps, voice rough from screaming, and Hiccup’s face shuts down, going flat again. His head snaps up to look at Viggo, meeting his eyes, and he stabs the poker hard into his stomach until Viggo’s head bows in his screams.

“Hiccup!” Astrid says sharply. Hiccup flinches and drops the poker, standing up and stumbling backwards, his eyes wide and a wild look in them.

He looks at Astrid, who’s as horrified as he is. “I’m sorry,” he blurts quietly, and he feels the ice crack, revealing all the other cracks that had been made during his talk, when he recounted how each of his friends had changed.

He feels tears sting at his eyes and a few trail down his cheek. “I didn’t- it just-“ he cuts off, words stilted and voice cracking. There’s fear in his eyes, along with horror. Horror at what he did, fear at what his friends will do.

Astrid glances back at the Riders, who look as shocked as she is, and then back at Hiccup. “Why don’t you- go outside,” she says, her mind racing as she’s thoroughly disoriented with the entire situation.

Hiccup nods jerkily and walks outside, not looking at the Riders. Astrid watches him leave and then looks back at Viggo, who is groaning in pain and is very close to dying with the poker still stabbed in his stomach. “Okay, uh- Tuffnut, go get cold water. Ruffnut, go with him, get bandages. Fishlegs, get the medical book you have and whatever salves you’ve made for burns. Snotlout-“

She stops, not having a job for Snotlout, and looks up at him, eyes wide. He nods wordlessly, walking forward, standing beside her.

Viggo is quiet, head down as he breathes through the pain. “Gods,” Astrid whispers. “What happened?”

Snotlout shakes his head a little, and for once, Astrid takes comfort in his presence. His not being an idiot helps. “Viggo must’ve done something to Hiccup,” he replies.

“What could he have possibly done other than what he did when- on that day? He hasn’t been able to move!”

“Before, then,” Snotlout says, and Astrid’s eyes flick up to him in horror. “Viggo did something to Hiccup before. No one has that kind of reaction for only one occasion.”

Astrid turns to see the rest of the Riders walking in with the supplies, and she looks at Snotlout. He nods again, turning to the rest of the Riders to give them instructions, and she meets Dagur’s eyes, hearing him follow as she walks out of the stables.

She looks around, finding Hiccup sitting against the wall off to her right, his knees pulled up to his chest and his arms wrapped around them. He’s staring off into the distance, and when her and Dagur come closer he looks at them and his eyes are red with tears, cheeks streaked with them.

“I’m sorry,” he says when they get close enough and crouch down, still giving him a little space even as they do. “I don’t know what happened- I just, I couldn’t feel anything, and- I- I liked it, I think? Hearing Viggo scream. It- it was satisfying, in some- some weird, cruel way-“

Astrid shushes him and he cuts off abruptly, glancing down at his knees. “I just want to know why, Hiccup,” she says, as softly as she can. “Why are you so angry at him? What made you do this, of all things?”

He’s silent for a long moment, and Astrid almost thinks he isn’t going to respond, but then his voice comes, quiet and barely audible. “He wasn’t supposed to touch you all,” he starts. Astrid feels a cold sense of horror rise inside her. “He wanted me, and he had me. That- that wasn’t the first time, on that ship. Not for me. He- he told me- he told me that he didn’t care about any of you, as long as he had me. So I gave him me.”

Hiccup’s voice cracks, and Astrid feels her own rage rising inside of her, at Viggo. “He promised he wouldn’t touch any of you. I- I let him- I let him do things to me, if only to keep him away from the rest of you.”

Hiccup’s trembling slightly now, hands curling into fists, and Astrid and Dagur share a worried glance. “He broke his promise,” he says in a low voice.

Astrid puts one arm around him, and he tenses before leaning into it, his trembling breaking with a full-body slump into her. He starts shaking, burying his face into her shirt, crying freely now. Astrid rubs one hand on his back, wondering just how much she’d been missing and how much Hiccup had been holding back. Of all the nightmares she’s comforted him from, he hasn’t cried like this from any of them, and this feels like an accumulation of things, a wave breaking.

Astrid looks up at Dagur. “You get the others,” she mouths silently. “Kill Viggo.”

He frowns, raising an eyebrow in question. She glares and looks pointedly down at Hiccup - she’s done trying to get information from Viggo. She’d rather he be dead and them have to launch a full attack to get the Dragon Eye than already know where it is and risk having to torture him, or have him escape.

Dagur nods, glancing worriedly at Hiccup before standing and walking into the stables, shutting the door and leaving them alone in the darkness.

Astrid pulls Hiccup up slightly. “Let’s go to my hut,” she whispers.

Hiccup’s sobs are silent, his body still shaking, and he nods. His breaths even out after a while, Astrid still rubbing his back, and she slowly guides him into standing up, letting him lean on her as they walk back, one arm around his waist.

Toothless follows them, a quiet shadow, sensing that Hiccup needs the comfort of Astrid and only Astrid right now. He curls up in the corner when they get back to her hut, green eyes glowing as he watches Hiccup worriedly.

Hiccup curls into her when she wraps her arms around him and pulls him close, burying his face into her shirt and tangling her legs with his. She feels him relax, feels his breathing even out slowly, but she still stares with wide eyes at the wall, in shock from this whole night.

“Astrid,” Hiccup mumbles quietly a few moments later.

“Yeah?”

“Promise me you won’t let me do that again.”

She closes her eyes and feels a few stray tears fall, rubbing his back. “I won’t, Hiccup. I won’t let you do that again.”

[kellanswritingblog]

Some zoscar hurt/comfort set after the end of episode 173.  I figured I should post it now before we hit the next episode and it’s just all hurt lol

tw for blood, injury, broken bones, and mentions of death

The landing was a disaster. The ship itself wasn’t too badly damaged, besides the engine loss it experienced while in the Borealis.

The real harm was in the suffering of the crew.  Zolf and Cel were strapped in and managed to hold on when they crashed into the ground, and Hamid was flying a safe distance away.  But Azu, Wilde, Earhart, and all the others were either sent tumbling around the ship or thrown off of it entirely.

There wasn’t much any of them could do for some of them, no matter how hard they tried.  Between the height of the fall and impact with the trees and frozen ground… no amount of healing would bring them back from that.

Those who survived were tended to by Zolf and Azu, distributing magical bouts of healing to keep them alive and in as little pain as possible.  Azu had been smacked into the side of the ship during impact, but her guideline stayed intact, and she was in much better shape than some of the others.  Meanwhile, Cel and Earhart looked over the ship, and Hamid huddled up with the less-injured kobolds, who all held each other tight.

Zolf counted the survivors and the bodies.

“Where’s Wilde?”

“I thought…” Azu looked around and counted for herself.  “I don’t know.  I didn’t see which way he went.”

Zolf gestured to the injured Meerk lying before them.  “Do you got this?  I’m going to go look for him.”

“Yeah.  Don’t go too far, though.”  Her brow was furrowed with concern.

He nodded, then trudged away from the ship.  As he walked, he called out Wilde’s name – it wasn’t as if they had to worry about accidentally drawing unwanted attention, since the neon crashing ship took care of that already.

“Wilde!  Oscar?  Come on, where are you?”

The snow came up practically to Zolf’s waist, and he sunk even deeper in spots, but that didn’t slow him down when he finally saw Wilde’s body and the seeping red that surrounded it.

Zolf sprinted to him and knelt down at his side.

“Oscar?  Oscar, hang on.”  There was still a pulse, but only barely.  He had lost a lot of blood, and what looked like bone poked out from his arm.

Healing flowed through Zolf and into Wilde, but he didn’t wake.  Instead, he gave a shuddering breath, and remained still.

“Come on, Oscar.  Come on, please.  You stubborn ass, why weren’t you wearing your guideline?” Zolf cried as he pressed all of his healing into Wilde’s unmoving form.  “Why weren’t you paying attention?  Why did you have to get hurt?”

The tears that fell down Zolf’s face were half frozen.  When magic failed, Zolf put bandages and tourniquets on Wilde’s wounds, then began to set the obviously broken bone with his mundane healing knowledge, for what little good that would do.

Once that was done, Zolf continued to kneel at Wilde’s side for a moment longer to beg any benevolent power to bring him back, to make it right.  What good was hope if Wilde was gone?

Then, Zolf stood and tromped quickly back to the ship.

“Did you find him?” Azu asked.

“I did.  He’s alive… but barely.  I need help getting him back here.  I tried to heal him, but…”

Azu reached out, put a hand on Zolf’s shoulder, and gave it a squeeze.  “I still have some healing left in me.  Let’s see what we can do.”

Despite the optimism in her voice and gaze, it did little to soothe the terror raging inside of Zolf’s heart.

Zolf led Siggif and Barnes to where Wilde’s body lay, and they placed him on an impromptu stretcher to carry him back to the ship, then placed him before Azu.

“Oh.”  She spoke quietly, her voice barely more than an uttered breath. But Zolf heard it, and whatever hope remained in him that Wilde would recover started to fade.

“Yeah, it’s… it’s not good.”

“I’ll do what I can.” Pink light flowed from Azu’s hands into Wilde’s form, then she slumped.  “I need to save some healing for the others.  But he’s still breathing, and you managed to stop most of the bleeding.  He’s got a chance.”

Zolf nodded, though he felt despair take over.  Azu put a hand on Zolf’s shoulder again, then left him at Wilde’s side to tend to the other wounded.

“You…”  Zolf couldn’t even muster up the enjoyable annoyance he so often felt when dealing with Oscar.  Instead, he began to cry again.  “Please wake up.  Please be okay.  I mean, I know nothing is really okay right now, but… Wilde, I need you.  I don’t know how to keep going without you. Please.”

Wilde didn’t respond, of course.  Zolf picked up Wilde’s hand on his uninjured arm, lifted it to his lips, and pressed a slow kiss to the mitten that covered his skin.  He didn’t know what else to do, how else to help, so he continued to stand and hold Wilde’s hand, as if that alone would bring him back.

It didn’t, though, and soon enough the cold was getting to everyone.  Those who wound up relatively uninjured were tasked with moving the others inside, where they were at least sheltered from the elements and the flurry that fell around them.  They also brought the bodies on board, with every intention of returning them home whenever they got back to safe civilization.

Zolf and Azu stayed up throughout the night to tend to the injured.  Their own bodies were wracked with pain and exhaustion, but they had to keep going, and they were the best equipped to provide aid, even if they couldn’t muster anymore magic at the time.  Regardless, sometimes a balm or a fresh bandage or even a cup of water made all the difference.

He didn’t plan to fall asleep.  Zolf had sat at Wilde’s side during a quiet moment, half willing him to wake up and be alright.  He could have slept all day, if given the chance; between sailing through the Borealis and landing the Vengeance as successfully as possible, he was beat.  But there was still work to be done, and he didn’t plan to rest so soon.

However, the quiet croak of a familiar voice startled him awake, even from his darkest nightmares.

“Zolf?”

He practically fell out of his chair when he heard the noise and awoke with a start, then he righted himself and stood.

“Oscar?  Oscar, it’s me.  I’m here.  You’re alright, you’re going to be alright.”

Wilde was white as a sheet and his eyes blinked rapidly with confusion, but he was awake, and he was alive.

“What happened?”

“The ship… crashed. And just about everybody got tossed over the side when we hit the trees.  Why weren’t you wearing your bloody guideline, you insufferable…”  Zolf’s relief poured out in more tears.  “I’m just glad you’re…”

“Remind me to never let you drive an automobile if that’s how you park,” Wilde joked in a raspy voice, and Zolf let out a choked laugh.

“I should go get Azu. Together we’ll get you back up and running in no time.” His breath shuddering, Zolf wiped his tears.

Before he could move, however, Wilde’s good hand shot out and weakly held onto Zolf’s wrist. “First, I… Zolf… Thank you.”

“For what?  I’m the one that crashed the damn ship.”

Wilde shook his head. “For putting up with me.  For standing with me in all this chaos.  I’ve never said how grateful I am to not be fighting this war alone, and if I’d… if I’d died, you would never know.  So.  Here I am.”

“I still would’ve known,” Zolf murmured.  “And it’s not putting up with you.  You’re stubborn and infuriating, sure, but… I can’t imagine being anywhere else than at your side.”

“Kiss me.”

“I’m sorry?”  Zolf chuckled and hid his blushing face behind a hand.  “I think the blood loss has got you a little loopy.”

“I’m tired of walking around it.  We almost died, Zolf.  I don’t want to pretend that I don’t love you anymore.”

For a moment, Zolf lost himself in the sincerity of Oscar’s gaze, then he stepped forward and slowly kissed him.

“We’ve got fine timing, haven’t we?”  Zolf teased as he pulled away.

“If you hadn’t been so stubborn, maybe we would’ve gotten here before a near death experience in the unknown regions of Siberia.”

Zolf was relieved beyond measure that Wilde still had the health for snark.

“Yeah, because you definitely weren’t the one going all ‘oh, relationships are a danger right now, blah blah blah.’”

“They are a danger. But the greater danger is losing you.”

“You’re the one that almost died.  I think it’s more about losing you right now.”

Wilde smiled. “Fair.  Maybe just try not to lose any more engines, alright?”

“I’ll do my best. Now, I really am going to go get Azu. You’re in bad shape; it’ll take both of us to get you feeling better.”

He chuckled again, and replied, “Waking up to you?  Kissing you? I already feel lifetimes better.”

“That’s all well and good, but your arm is still broken, and you’ve definitely got a concussion and a bunch of internal trauma.  So, sit tight, and I’ll be right back.”

Before he left, Zolf pressed a quick kiss to Wilde’s forehead, and then darted off to find Azu, wherever she might be.  Surely the others were working on some sort of plan, but Zolf had only one goal: to ensure Wilde survived and was restored to health.  He didn’t plan on losing him now that they’d finally realized their feelings couldn’t be put off any longer.

[leahxx129]

Feels Like Home: The Truth (pt.5/final part) (Hvitserk x Reader)

Alright, so this is the final part to the Feels Like Home series. I know this was promised like 2 months ago but as I explained in a previous post - a break from Tumblr was essential for me. I hope you like the finale. :) Also, I inserted a ‘Keep Reading’ line, hopefully it’ll be visible to all of you.

Summary for pt.5: The raid was a roaring success and finally it’s time for you to explain everything to Hvitserk. The question is - will he be able to forgive you?

Warnings: description of homicide, cursing

Word count: 2.030-ish

Read PART1, PART2, PART3 and PART4.

* Moodboard is mine, images used are not. *

In the end, the raid turned out to be a roaring success. You made it out alive and as far as Ivar was concerned, the treasury’s content lived up to the stories he had heard, and he drained the place to the last coin.

Now, on your way back to Kattegat, you have some newly acquired thralls heat up two kegs of drinking water and fill the wooden tub in your cabin with it. Usually you can wait with the post-battle bath until you get home but this time you wish to cleanse yourself as soon as possible. The hot water makes your muscles relax and you catch yourself falling asleep when a soft knock on your door brings you back to consciousness.

“Come on in!” you signal your visitor to enter after stepping out of the tub and wrapping a cloth around your body.

Hvitserk’s face lights up at your sight.

“You are the only person I know who can conquer a land and still look breathtaking afterwards.” he says, earning a shy smile from you.

“Haven’t your father taught you that it is not decent to lie?”

“He has and I am not lying! Are you questioning my honesty yet again?”

“I would never dare do such a thing!”

You both chuckle and he pulls you into a tight hug. A familiar scent fills his nostrils – could he be imagining it, or your hair does smell like the wildflowers from the meadow?

“Ready to tell me everything?” he whispers sometime later, and you lean away to look into his eyes.

“No. But I made a promise and I always keep my word. Are you ready?”

He nods, then sits down on a chair next to the table and draws you into his laps. Looking into his eyes and knowing what you are about to say makes your chest ache, but you clear your throat and begin anyway.

“Do you remember the feast you had thrown for Ubbe’s birthday, just one full moon’s time before I left?”

“I do.”

“And do you remember how sick I felt during the feast?”

“Yes, I do. You had too much cherry wine so consequently I escorted you home to rest.”

You place a hand on the side of his face and caress his cheek with your thumb affectionately.

“It was not the cherry wine that made me feel sick, my love.” Your voice is laced with emotion, barely above whisper.

He knits his eyebrows in confusion, but it is only a matter of seconds and the wrinkles start relenting as he realizes the meaning behind your words.

“Were you… were you with child?”

You nod and an excited, breathy laughter escapes his mouth. You try to memorize the sound of it as you are uncertain you will ever hear it again once you tell him the rest of the story.

Seeing you don’t share his joy, his happiness vanishes just as fast as it came.

“What is it, Y/N? What happened to my child?”

You get up from his lap, fill your cup and empty its content within seconds. Then repeat the whole procedure all over again, not minding the peculiar look you get from Hvitserk. There is no way you can get through this sober. Once you are done with your second round, you wipe your mouth and continue.

“My father found out I was carrying your child and I have never seen him more furious than that. He respected Ragnar, but he also believed that by making so many enemies, Ragnar created an environment not fit for a child, especially not fit for his grandchild. So he pulled some strings - granted a wish here, asked for a favor there – and ended up shipping me to England in order to marry an ambitious Saxon king.”

“King Willelmus?”

“Yes, him. At first, he was the perfect gentlemen a young girl in trouble such as myself could wish for. But then time passed and he began to reveal his true colors… Remember the strikes in the cell? I carved those with my nails after he’d imprisoned me there. He visited me every day and laughed in my face for believing he would welcome the bastard son of a pagan whore.”

Hvitserk’s face grows more somber with every word that leaves your lips and you can barely resist the urge to throw back another drink.

“Not very long after the imprisonment I delivered the baby, our son, and King Wil-“ your voice cracks and that’s when you realize you’ve been crying. After a few deep breaths you continue “… and King Willelmus strangled him in front of my eyes. A nun witnessed this and when I recovered, she gave me some gold and some silver, and she helped me escape. I travelled all around the world, came to know different cultures and different fighting styles – all in order to seek vengeance one day. And that’s what I did today.”

The silence that ensues screams louder than anyone you have ever heard dying in battle.

“Why?” Hvitserk finally speaks up, not looking at you.

“Why what?”

He elevates his gaze slowly and you can see he’s like a volcano, seconds away from erupting.

“Why did you not come back to Kattegat and tell me whAT HAPPENED?!” he roars the last word, making you flinch. “Was I unworthy of the truth, huh?! Did I do something to deserve being left out of avenging mY OWN SON?! We could have done it years ago and we could have brought many more sons into this world ever since!”

“Hvitserk, calm down and let me expl-“

Before you can finish, he jumps to his feet, knocking back the chair he’s been sitting on and grabs you by the throat.

“Hvitserk… I-I can’t… breathe…” you try to plead with him to no avail. His grip is firm and strong.

“You know, here I thought I was favored by the Gods since they gave me a second chance with you… but it turns out they are just taunting me…” he whispers, his mind still visibly clouded by rage. “Tell me, why did you come back to Kattegat now, really? Was it honestly your father’s death or did you know about the raid?”

Though you don’t say – you can’t say – anything, your eyes give away the answer.

“Just what I assumed.”

Suddenly he lets go of you and you fall to the ground. He is about to storm out the door when you call after him with a hoarse voice.

“Hvitserk! You promised you would take good care of my heart, but now you are breaking it…”

He takes a quick, pitiful glance at you.

“I don’t believe there is anything I am breaking right now. In fact, I doubt there ever was anything I could have taken good care of!”

He slams the door shut so hard it almost falls off.

You just lie there on the ground at the exact spot you fell on and stare into the void, trying to comprehend what just happened. Then a scream makes its way out of your lungs and you begin banging one of your palms against the wooden floor until you feel no pain, just see the blood.

A huge hand covers yours to stop you from doing any more harm.

Bjorn.

You just look at him for a while, not knowing what to say.

“Have you been eavesdropping, Bjorn?” you finally decide on something and a sad, lopsided smile forms on his face.

“No. You and Hvitserk were so loud I believe the whole crew heard it – except maybe for the warriors that were deafened in the fight.”

“I’m not in the mood for jesting, Bjorn.” You try to sound menacing but the tears streaming down your face undermine your plan.

“I know. I’m not here for the jokes, I’m here for the tears.”

He pulls you into his chest, muffling your cries and sobs.

Hvitserk is sitting in the Great Hall, looking at the plate in front of him with no appetite. What is wrong with him? The music is too loud, the cheerful people annoy him and not even the food or the mead interest him at the slightest.

“What is wrong, big brother? Why aren’t you enjoying the celebration? We came back richer than ever. You could at least drink to that!” Ivar’s words shake him back from his own thoughts.

He pulls a face at his little brother, raises his horn and starts drinking from it.

“See? That wasn’t so hard, now was it? The more you do that the less you’ll feel upset about Y/N leaving Kattegat.”

Hvitserk almost chokes on the ale.

“What did you just say?” he questions Ivar while wiping his mouth.

“I said Y/N is leaving. She said she had no business here anymore, so she intends to sail away.”

“It’s true.” Bjorn chips in. “But I think that if you hurry, you might be able to stop her from doing so.”

Hvitserk’s heart has never beaten faster than now, not even when he went on his first raid ever.

What should he do? Should he go after you? Or let you go? What do the Gods want?

Suddenly, Ubbe’s words start echoing in his ears ‘Let me tell you what I see! I see a miserable man drenching in his own self-pity and insecurities and only the Gods know how tired I am of it! Gods, Hvit, do you even understand what is going on here? She was taken away from you, but fate is offering a second chance! Do you know how rare that is?’.

He stands up abruptly and runs out of the Great Hall.

Hvitserk considers himself fit but by the time he gets to the docks there is almost no air in his lungs. And even that little what remained gets knocked out by an invisible force once he discovers that your ship is gone.

“No... no, no, no!” he whispers frantically to himself as his eyes start watering.

This must be a deception. You cannot be gone. Not again.

He feels like the rug has been pulled out from under his feet and he almost tumbles.

What is he to do now? He can’t go back to the feast.

His legs start working before his brain does. After a considerable amount of walking they stop and Hvitserk finds himself in the meadow of wildflowers. 

In the middle there’s you, illuminated by the moonlight, resembling a goddess now more than ever.

“Y/N? Is that you? I-I thought you sailed away.”

You turn around at the sound of your name and your eyes go wide.

“Hvitserk? I-I intended to but I just simply could not. I felt like I needed to be here. But what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be at the feast?”

He rushes to you wordlessly, cups your face and presses his lips to yours forcefully.

“I am so sorry for not hearing you out, min elskede!” he says, gasping for air once you break the kiss. “And for all the things I said! I did not mean any of it!”

“No, no, no! Do not apologize! I should be the one begging for your forgiveness because of all the things I have done and all the things I haven’t… I believed for the longest time that a feeble woman like me who couldn’t even protect her own son would never be a worthy wife to you in the eyes of the Gods, and-”

He places his index finger on your lips to prevent you from completing your sentence.

“You were always worthy of me and I was always worthy of you. We were fated to be together. Do you know why I’m certain?” he pulls you closer so that your figure melts into his. “Because this feels like home. It always has and always will.”

You stand there like that, embracing each other in the moonlight for only the Gods know how long.

But time does not really matter, now does it?

You have a lifetime ahead of you and even after that, you will spend an eternity together in Valhalla.

[swearingintengwar]

Alright, taking a dive into this whole Space Australia business...

(warning: this gets kinda dark! Specific content warnings in the tags)

Humans are tough.

They’re persistence predators, walking for days on end to tire out their prey. When their society developed to the point where hunting was less common, their impressive stamina turned to more frivolous ends. Capsaicin - yes, the neurotoxin - is a basic cooking spice for them. They’ll willingly endure extreme temperatures with only rudimentary protective gear, just because they like to play in snow. And that’s without even getting into skydiving and roller coasters and horror movies.

Their reputation as damn near unkillable was pretty much inevitable.

Then, stories started to go around.

Humans, now common on starship crews, secluding themselves. Emitting cries of pain despite being completely unharmed. Seeking companionship from inanimate objects and dangerous beasts.

Sometimes they are mysteriously wounded, and refuse to explain why.

The rest of the Kith, as the collective sapients of the galaxy have begun to call themselves, are baffled. What could be overwhelming humans, who rise like phoenixes from any hardship? They notice that many afflicted humans are shy about what’s troubling them, though, and conclude it would be rude to ask human advice on the subject.

It’s not until a ketian finds their human captain dead in her cabin, a note on her bedside table and a laser burn clean through her brow, that the Kith realize how badly they were wrong.

The note on Captain Alexis’s table speaks of how unhappy she was on the ship, of her stress and loneliness. She’s to be given a hero’s funeral, written down in history as a martyr whose sacrifice taught the Kith their mistakes, until her sister hears of the arrangements. “No,” she says. “There’s nothing heroic about this. My sister was a victim, not a martyr. Give her back to her family, let us say our goodbyes. Remember her with honor, but remember her as she was.” And she begins the strange keening pain-cry of humans, her eyes sparkling with tears in that way the Kith find strange and oddly beautiful - few other species shed tears - but know better than to comment on. “My sister wouldn’t have wanted a place in history, especially not one earned by your callousness.” She makes the strange gesture of aggression that humans sometimes make, a bit like their gesture of indication but with a different finger extended. The crew have seen it used in all manner of situations, from playful banter to outright rage.

This is outright rage.

As Alexis’s sister collects her body, the crew gathers to talk. The events of the death are incomprehensible to them. Al’ara, the ketian pilot who’d found the body, carefully examines the cabin. No signs anyone else was there. No signs of struggle.

Shyly, for fear of being rude, the crew decides to ask a human about the mysterious night, and it’s then that they realize just how deeply their mistakes ran.

Humans’ bodies are tough, sure, but their minds are fragile as frost.

At first, the crew is baffled. What species could possibly have the capacity for self-annihilation? Why had it not evolved out millenia ago?

The human keens. Their eyes sparkle. Senseless as it may seem, this is all too real.

Suddenly, her strange actions make so much more sense. The times she’d refused to work despite being in perfect health. Her exhaustion and listlessness that didn’t have any physical cause. The times the crew had heard keening from her cabin. Even the strangely tidy blade scars that sometimes peeked out from her sleeves.

Fragile as frost, indeed.

The crew are at a loss. They caused this, they had been too worried about offending their captain to take basic care of her. Al’ara plucks feathers from their wings, the ones Alexis had often compared to the blue jays from her homeworld, and spends hours in meditation, sitting with their guilt and grief, learning to exist again. The quiet chanskir medic whose name no one could quite pronounce paints his scales silver-blue in mourning, singing low warbling dirges. Natreyen, with all the concern for his honor characteristic of mikali raised in traditional societies, turns himself in as a murderer.

It’s Alexis’s sister, of all people, who intervenes. “No,” she says, “you aren’t a murderer. You didn’t know any better. You did the best you could.”

“Lydia?” he asks. “You were so angry before. Why are you defending me now?”

“Because there is a difference between acknowledging your mistakes and turning them into deliberate crime. And because I was blinded with my pain that day. My heart hurt from losing my sister.”

“Then if I can’t give myself up to the law, how am I to make up for the stain on my honor? Deliberately or not, I caused a life to be wasted.”

Lydia kneels to match his height. One of her hands cups his ridged cheek, a gesture he recognizes as one of affection. “Learn, Natreyen,” she says. “Learn how to do better next time.”

Natreyen is so stunned he can only bow deeply. Lydia has spared his life, given him the second chance so few mikali would ever consider. 

Luckily, she knows how to make this official, make his people recognize his redemption instead of calling him a fugitive. She raises her hands above his head. “Natreyen, you have wasted a life, and debt must be paid,” she intones, in fluent Mikai, then places her hands on his back, lacing her fingers into the gaps in his carapace and scratching his soft skin. Gently, just enough to cause a slight prickle of pain. A token vengeance. “As the wronged, I declare before the Justicars of Honor that I am satisfied by this avenging. Go forth and improve yourself.”

Her hands unlace from his carapace, and the rite is complete. In the eyes of his kin, Natreyen’s soul is no longer burdened by killing.

He resolves to go forth and learn, as Lydia instructed him.

He begins by investigating what Lydia had meant by her heart hurting, by being blinded by pain. They’re uniquely human concepts; no other Kith species has phrases that quite match those. And so, dread settling in the pit of his abdomen, he decides to ask Lydia.

His fears are quickly relieved when she isn’t offended by the questions, and the answers turn out to be a bit more literal than he was expecting. Uniquely among the known Kith, humans can feel emotional responses as physical sensations, rather than having separate nerve reactions for mental and physical stimuli. When Alexis died, Lydia experienced her grief as physical pain, and that led her to lash out in anger instead of calming herself. This part, Natreyen understands. It’s difficult to think when you’re in pain.

The crew’s first attempts at making their ship human-friendly go poorly. Making sure humans couldn’t be around weapons unsupervised gets dismissed by Lydia as treating the symptoms instead of the problem. Painkillers, to keep humans levelheaded when distressed, would only cause more problems in the long run. 

Finally, Natreyen realizes what he’s been doing wrong. The task isn’t to human-proof what’s already there, but to add things that were lacking. Human crew members would need shorter work hours and more mental stimulation. More variety in food would also help. Companionship would be a must, and Lydia recommends a few types of animal that many humans are good at caring for. Communication with social groupmates would be invaluable. A specialist in human psychology wouldn’t go amiss, either.

Sure, running a human-friendly ship would be more work, but most humans were happier in groups. A larger crew would be just another way of making the ship more hospitable to these strangely tough yet fragile Kith.

Several flights, five humans, two cats, and more shenanigans than Natreyen cared to remember later, everything seems to be going well.

Then he feels a sharp pain in his fetlock.

He looks down and sees that someone has attached a knife to one of the cleaning robots. Without a second thought, he removes the knife and pages the rest of the crew to ask how it had ended up there.

The humans are devastated to hear of the knife’s removal, claiming that Natreyen had “killed Stabby”. Apparently the idea of taping a knife to a cleaning robot had been a running joke on their planet since before they’d ever met the rest of the Kith, and in Stabby’s half hour of existence the humans had grown attached to him.

Natreyen remembers Lydia’s voice in the Chamber of Justice. I am satisfied by this avenging. Her nails on his back, pricks of pain without any true harm.

He gets an idea.

“Al’ara,” he asks, “would you fetch a butter knife from the mess hall?”

She flies off to get one, and he taps on a remote to recall the robot that had been turned into Stabby. It trundles up to his feet, waiting.

Al’ara returns with the knife, and Natreyen tapes it to the robot, exactly where its old knife had been. “Will this do?” he asks the humans.

Their cheers are enough of an answer. He taps the remote again, commanding the newly resurrected Stabby to return to cleaning. Everyone is satisfied, and he dismisses the meeting.

Little does he know, Stabby will one day be the general of the entire Kith fleet, at least as far as humans are concerned. Something about it gaining the rank of anyone it hit...

[fictionalboys-arebetter]

Treat You Better - Steve Rogers

Request:  Being tony Stark’s girlfriend but his bad boy and narcissistic ways causes a lot of arguments between reader and him. So often Steve Rogers the readers best friend is there to comfort her and be supportive but little does she know he is in love with her. And one night after a big fight with tony and the reader Steve tells her exactly how he feels about her and how he’s treat her better.

@keepcalm-and-beyou I had a really hard time writing Tony as a bad guy so I went more with a ‘we’re just not compatible’ angle, I hope that’s okay and I hope you enjoy it <3

Pairings: Steve x Reader, mention of Tony x Reader Words: 2,308

You were tired. You were always tired these days. You’d been absolutely floored the first time he’d asked you out for a drink. He was Tony Stark and you were, well, you. You’d said yes, of course, and had the most amazing night. There was drinking and dancing and laughter. Oh, how he’d made you laugh. You’d never put much stock in clichés, but he had made you had think that maybe the saying that opposites attract was true. You should have known better.

 Here you were a year on, and everything was different. There was still drinking, more than there should have been perhaps, but the laughter had disappeared months ago. Dating Tony Stark was exhausting. He was impulsive and he was reckless and he never seemed to think about how his actions would effect the people around him, how it would effect you. You were overwrought, constantly worrying about the next stupid thing he’d do that would put him or someone around him in harms way. And the fighting, so much fighting. All couples argue, you know that, but it seemed like that was all you did lately. There were no more days passing in sweet words and soft kisses, only shouted words and slamming doors. That was bad enough, but worse was the fact that living in the tower with the rest of the team meant everyone knew all about your relationship problems. They were mostly nice enough not to mention it in front of you, but you couldn’t shake the lingering feeling of shame each time you met their eyes and wonder what they must think of you.

 You were tired. So tired. You’d been up all night fighting with Tony about something that your sleep-addled mind could no longer recall. You fought so much these days that all the fights seemed to blur into one, you weren’t even sure they were about anything any more. You were so tired and the sofa was so comfortable. Your eyelids were heavy, you didn’t have the energy to force them open and so you finally drifted off to sleep.

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

You were still sleeping on the sofa when Steve returned from his latest mission. Sam, who had ventured in not long after you drifted off, shushed him immediately as he crossed the threshold and sent a wave in your direction. His voice was just a whisper when he spoke.

 “She’s exhausted, they were fighting again last night.”

 Steve let out a sigh, eyes focusing on you. At least you seemed to get some sliver of peace in sleep. He wished you would just leave him, all this misery was laying waste to the happy, carefree woman he knew. When you’d met, you and Steve had clicked instantly. He was drawn to your soft voice and relaxed personality. He didn’t have to be Captain America with you, he could just be that boy from Brooklyn who often felt like he was out of place in this new world. He’d had a best friend shaped hole in his life for such a long time, and though you could never replace Bucky, your presence seemed to soothe some of the ache that came from losing him. That ache returned now with a vengeance as he took in the bags under your eyes and the tracks on your cheeks that told him you’d been crying before sleep took you. Sam’s voice surprised him when he spoke again, he’d almost forgotten he was there.

 “When are you going to tell her, man? You can’t let her carry on like this, and it might be just the push she needs to let him go.”

 This time, Steve’s sigh was one of frustration. It was a conversation he and Sam had engaged in many times over the last few months. Steve hadn’t meant for it to happen, of course, but he’d spent months being the should you cried on, being the person you wanted to run to when you were sad and the person who brought that stunning smile back when it drowned under the weight of your stress. Of course he’d fallen in love with you, how could he not have? For weeks now, he’d ignored the way his heart sped up at the sight of you, how every fibre of his being screamed not to let go when he hugged you. He’d tried to ignore the way the sight of Tony made him simmer with rage, because you’d asked him not to get involved. Sam had asked him repeatedly when he was intending to ‘make a move’, Steve had told him it wasn’t for him to do that while you were still with Tony, no matter how unhappy you were. That was a resolve that was rapidly crumbling with each tear you shed over a man that should have been doing nothing less than worshipping the ground you walked on.

 “I don’t know Sam, it doesn’t seem right. She’s still with him, I should respect that.”

 “Look, I get it, you’re a good guy and you’re trying to do the right thing but sometimes the right thing isn’t the thing that society tells you to do. Sometimes you have to do what’s right for you and the people you care about. If it was anyone but you then I’d agree that telling her how you feel right now was risky, but you’re the one person who consistently puts her first and she needs that. Also, you need to get it off your chest before you snap and get into it with Tony, that would be really bad for all of us.”

 Sam had moved towards the door as he spoke, and his last look at Steve before he disappeared made him think his words had finally hit home.

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

It was still raining when you woke. You lay still for a moment, eyes closed just listening to the soft patter of the raindrops on the window. As you moved to stretch out, you realised your feet were resting on something that was definitely not sofa. Eyes opening, you lifted your head and found Steve sitting on the end of the sofa, your legs resting on his lap. He was focused on the TV, which was glowing softly, but his gaze shifted to you as you stirred and he cast you that soft smile that always seemed to make things a little better.

 “Hey, I didn’t know you were back. Why didn’t you wake me?” You voice was gravelly with sleep when you spoke, and it made Steve smile again.

 “You looked like you needed the sleep. You were fighting again, weren’t you?”

 “Steve,” you sighed. You knew where this was going.

 “No, please Y/N, just let me say this. You’re my best friend, you have been since the day we met. I’ve tried, I’ve tried so hard to let this go but I can’t. You’re miserable, Y/N! You’re so kind and funny and beautiful and far too intelligent to be made to feel this way all the time.” Steve moved your legs gently off him and turned to face you so he could look into your eyes as he spoke again. “I love you, Y/N. For a long time now and I thought I was doing the right thing by not telling you but you need to know that there’s another choice for you. I want to treat you the way you should be. You should be cherished and loved and I want to be the one to do it. I want to always make you smile and laugh because it’s the most beautiful sound. I want to be able to hold you, not because you’re sad but because you want me to and I want to not have to let you go so you can go back to someone who is killing your gorgeous spirit. I just want to love you the way that you deserve to be loved, and I really want you to love me the same way.”

 By the time Steve had finished talking, he was holding your hands in his. Your heart was racing, but it was nothing compared to your mind, which was a mess of thoughts and feelings that you didn’t know how to make sense of. Steve had been your rock over the last few months, he never once wavered or seemed like he’d had enough listening to you complain or cry over something or other. Could you see him that way, did you already?

 “Steve, I -”

 “You don’t have to say anything right now. I know it’s a lot to throw at you when you’ve already got so much going on. I just needed you to know you have that choice, to know that it’s okay to do the selfish thing sometimes.”

 He placed a soft kiss on your temple as he rose, then disappeared out the door as if he hadn’t just potentially changed your life.

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

Two days later, and you were replaying a situation you’d experienced a million times in recent weeks. Tony was ranting about something or other, and you searched your memory but couldn’t tell how you’d gotten here yet again. And suddenly it was enough, you physically could not sit through another night of snarky comments and harsh words, it had to be enough.

 “I can’t do this any more, Tony.”

 You words weren’t shouted, but they cut through his venting with shocking ease. He stopped dead, arms hovering is mid-air where he’d been gesturing.

 “Do what?”

 “This. Us. We’re miserable, Tony. We have been for a long time. We used to have fun together, we used to laugh. I don’t remember the last time we laughed together. We’re destroying each other. It has to stop.”

 He looked straight at you then, truly looked for what felt like the first time in an age. As he took you in, he wondered how he hadn’t noticed it before. You looked exhausted, the spark in your eyes that had first drawn him in was almost gone. He was tired too, he realised, it suddenly hit him like never before. How had he not seen what this was doing to you, to both of you?

 Tony seemed to deflate under the weight of his realisation, and you knew immediately that you weren’t a couple any more. You were just two people, two people who knew each other well enough to know that the other would be okay in time. There was no more anger, just understanding. No words needed to pass between you, you simply squeezed his hand as you passed and slipped silently out the bedroom door.

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

Steve found you on the balcony, looking out over the city. It really was beautiful up here. The rainstorm a few days ago had left the air clean and crisp, and you felt all the tension flow out of your body as you breathed deeply. He didn’t speak as he came to lean back on the railing against you, watching the city lights reflect in your eyes.

 “Tony and I broke up.”

 He didn’t know what the appropriate response was. He couldn’t say he was sorry, it would be a lie and you both knew it. So he just let you carry on.

 “I spent a lot of time thinking about what you said the other night. It was the most wanted I’ve felt in a long time. I thought about whether I just felt something for you because you were saying these beautiful things and I was feeling so unloved but then I realised, I think I’d started feeling things for you long before then. I just didn’t let myself acknowledge it. You’re my best friend too Steve, you know that. I thought it was normal that you would be the first person I wanted to run to when I was sad or to want to stay wrapped in your arms because it made me feel safe, like nothing could ever hurt me. I was wrong, I wanted those things because I want all those things you said. I want to be loved, but I only want to be loved by you.”

 Steve’s hand slid up your arm to take your chin and gently turn you head, making you look into his eyes. Everything was still for a moment, like he was searching for something in your face. Whatever it was, he must have found it because then his lips were on yours. The kiss was so unmistakably Steve Rogers, gentle and light and it sent your heart soaring. It was over too quickly, but the smile he wore when he pulled back more than made up for it. It really was beautiful up here, but he eclipsed it with ease.

[evilrubberducke]

Sweeter than Candy

I got the idea of Izuku and Mina cuddling while watching a movie marathon, and thus this fic was born. Expect plenty of tooth aching fluff, as the name would imply. Hope you enjoy!

Summary:  Mina worked hard in the lead-up to midterm exams. Now, with the exams concluded, it's time to celebrate, and what better way to do that than with an all day movie marathon with her boyfriend?

Read it on AO3!

“This seems like overkill” Izuku said as he watched Mina add another handful of snacks to the already enormous pile.

In truth, it probably was too much. Izuku stuck to his diet pretty religiously, and she wouldn’t be able to eat all of these on her own. That wasn’t the point though. Today was about indulgence, and she was going to splurge

“Nah.” Mina responded. “Overkill would be having to spend every waking minute not already devoted to hero training to studying math. Can you imagine? That would just be the worst.” As she spoke, her voice became more and more deadpan.

Izuku looked concerned by her tone of voice and stepped over to give her a comforting hug. It was unnecessary, but Mina enjoyed it nonetheless. She hadn’t done any testing, but she would be willing to bet good money that Izuku gave the best hugs in the class. He had a way of completely wrapping you in his warm arms that was just amazing.

“It was worth it though, right?” Izuku said softly into her ear.

“Yeah...” It had been, but that didn’t mean Mina wasn’t allowed to be salty about it.

Exam season was always a trying time at any school, but that went double for UA. As future heroes they were expected to maintain satisfactory grades while keeping up with their regular training, and preparing for whatever ridiculous practical exam their teachers had managed to concoct.

In addition to all that, Mina had had a personal goal. She was tired of being one of the only failing students in her class. Even Mineta was pulling better grades than her for god's sake!

So, she had given up a huge chunk of her personal time to prepare. She’d missed the season finale of her favorite reality show, she hadn’t gone to an arcade in weeks, and she had even sworn off pranks in the lead up to the exams.

She’d spent hours under Yaomomo’s careful tutelage, and even more time studying with Izuku after school every day as she tried to cram increasingly arcane formulas and facts into her poor brain. It had been a slow, horrifically boring process, but she had put her all into it. She’d even tried sleeping with her textbook under her pillow, in the hope that she would somehow absorb some knowledge by osmosis, a subject she now vaguely understood thanks to her wonderfully patient tutors.

When the exam had finally rolled around, Mina had felt more nervous about it than she had ever felt for a test before. Her mind had been horrifyingly blank, like all the knowledge she’d scraped together had fled in a fit of pique.

Then, almost miraculously, she’d known the answer to the first question. And the one after that as well. As she’d gotten further in, she'd started to feel more and more confident. Sure, she wasn’t getting every question, but most of the ones she didn’t know could be narrowed down to just two possible answers. It had felt good, like she was catching up to everyone else, instead of being left behind like always.

When Aizawa finally called time she had collapsed, happy but totally drained.

She had thought that the lead up to the exam would be the worst, but the aftermath was much more intense. Instead of being able to completely relax once she was done, like she had previously, Mina was left with a vague sense of anxiety about her performance that left her repeating the questions she already knew she had gotten wrong over and over in her head, trying to puzzle them out and failing miserably.

<I wonder if this is what Izuku feels like all the time> She had thought to herself  <If so, I owe him a big apology for every time I joked about how anxious he was.>

Aizawa, at least, was prompt with his grading. They had their tests graded on their desks by the end of the day.

Mina had slowly flipped her paper over, wanting to put off seeing the grade for as long as possible. Then shrieked with delight when she saw the big B- in the corner. Sure, it was far from the highest grade in the class, or even the highest grade she had gotten in her life, but it was the highest grade she had gotten since coming to UA, and that was an accomplishment in its own right.

And an achievement like that deserved a celebration!

Thus, she had assembled a small mountain of snacks ranging from chips to chocolate to sodas of several varieties. She had also put together a leaning tower of movies from all sorts of different genres. Feel good romance movies made up a significant percentage of the stack. They would be great for setting a lovely mood for her and Izuku. And a nice palate cleanser after the classic horror triple feature she had planned midway through the day.

Lastly, she had borrowed every spare pillow that she could find in the dorms and arranged them into a fortress for her and Izuku to snuggle in while they binged.

In short, Maestro Mina had concocted the perfect day for destressing, and she was going to milk it for all it was worth.

She might have overestimated the amount of snacks they would need, but she had definitely underestimated the amount of tissues Izuku would go through. He was midway through the first box before the first movie had even ended.

“Sorry” He sniffled, dabbing at his eyes once more. “It’s just ...they were so in love, and then ...it was just so sad!” He broke into a fresh round of sobs at the thought.

They had started off the night with a classic animated movie about a man who flew his house away on an adventure with an astounding number of balloons. Mina was fairly certain that such a feat was impossible unless he was distantly related to Uraraka, but she wasn’t going to criticise since it made for a pretty awesome visual.

She wrapped her arms around Izuku, pulling him into a comforting hug as she patted his head. It was sweet that he was such a softie, and that he felt comfortable enough around her that he didn't feel the need to hide it. It made her feel special.

Although, they were definitely going to need more tissues if things went according to plan. This wasn’t even close to the biggest tearjerker she had planned for their marathon.

Mina could feel Izuku nodding off beside her, head dipping slightly as he struggled against the sandman. She didn’t blame him. Lunch had been both tasty and super filling, which meant it was threatening to drag her off to dreamland as well. As pleasant as it would be to take a nap right then and there in Izuku’s arms, Mina had other plans.

Days like this didn’t come often, and that meant she had to enjoy every second of it.

Instead, she stood up and stretched. Izuku shook a bit of the drowsiness from his face and looked at her curiously. She merely smiled innocently at him as she made her way to the TV.

Izuku was a little bit too trusting sometimes. He wanted to think the best of people, and that let them take advantage of him from time to time. Mina didn’t abuse that trust, that would be immoral, but she did occasionally take advantage of it to make Izuku’s life just a little more interesting.

Her plan for today involved introducing him to a classic in B movie horror that was sure to get his blood pumping and wake him right up. It was time for the horror block to begin!

Mina silently cackled to herself as she slid the movie in.

Izuku obviously knew that something was up with her. After nearly a year together, they were both getting better at reading the other’s body language, and he had gotten adept at recognizing her ‘I’m having fun pranking someone’ smile as a survival mechanism.

It took him right up until the title ‘Night of Screams 2: The Revenge of Screamtopia’ to realize what she was planning, and by that point, it was far too late.

Quick as a whip, she snaked her legs through his, tangling them together and preventing him from getting up unless she let him.

“Minaaaaaa!” He cried as he clawed at the floor. She did notice, however, that despite being much stronger than her, he made no real attempt to get free.

“Shush you. I told you the quadratic formula was terrifying, and you made me memorize it anyway. Consider this my vengeance!” She put on her best evil villainess face as she spoke. The effect was ruined by the smile she couldn’t keep off her lips, but she felt it was important to make the effort all the same.

He moaned inarticulately in response as the opening credits began to play.

Mina hummed in response, and wrapped her arms around her boyfriend once again. “Tell you what, if you get scared, you can snuggle up to me and I’ll make it all better, ok?”

It took a moment, but she finally heard a muffled “Kay” from below her.

She smiled in triumph. It had taken a lot of effort to get here, but it really was good to be the Queen.

“You doing ok back there Izuku?” Mina asked.

No response came, though Izuku clutched more tightly to her back as a shriek rang out from the TV. Another innocent down as the monster continued it’s furious rampage. It was over the top, and for a horror buff like Mina, it was nothing she hadn’t seen a thousand times before.

Izuku, however, was having a much tougher time of it. It was kind of funny. They had faced terrifying villains like Shiguraki and his Nomu, and Izuku had barely flinched. She’d even heard from Uraraka that he’d stayed calm when Shigaraki had him by the neck during the incident at the Kiyashi mall incident, trying to prevent anyone from getting hurt in the crossfire. And now, here he was cowering from some cheap blood and jump scares.

As he flinched again, Mina relented. She had planned a trio of films for the day, and while she was enjoying having Izuku clinging to her, it was obvious Izuku wasn’t having nearly as good of a time as she was.

A comedy then. One that would get him flashing that smile she loved so much once again.

Just ...in a minute or two. She really loved the part coming up, and after all, it wasn’t like Izuku would keel over from just a little more gore, would he…?

“Mina, I’m not sure how good an idea this is” Izuku said hesitantly. “There’s a real choking hazard.”

“Pfffft! My big brother and I used to do this with jawbreakers all the time, and we’re both fine! Now, hit me with your best shot!” Mina called, tilting her head back once more.

She was sitting at the foot of her bed, while Izuku was at the top, holding a bag of candy in one hand and wearing a worried expression.

Finally, at her continued insistence that she would be fine, he tossed one of the candies lightly toward her. It wasn’t a great throw, and Mina had to lunge to the side, but she managed to catch the candy in her mouth. She swallowed it quickly, then grinned at Izuku in triumph.

He smiled back at her, the look of nervousness fading somewhat in the face of her victory.

“Toldja I could do it!” She proclaimed. “I’m the candy catch master! It was part of how I trained my reflexes for UA. Now why don’t you give me a real challenge?” She winked as she said it. Technically, the line about it being reflex training was BS, but it sounded almost reasonable enough to be true, so Mina stuck with it.

Shaking his head, Izuku readied another candy to throw. They were a brand of chocolate coated berries that Mina found absolutely delicious. In fact, she was having such a hard time not scarfing the whole bag that she had proposed the game as a way to slow down her consumption rate.

Izuku’s next throw went wide again, but this time Mina wasn’t able to catch it with her lips. Instead it came plummeting directly into her right eye.

She flinched, the offending candy bouncing to the floor as she reached up to rub at her eye, trying to work the irritation out manually.

“Are you okay?” Izuku said, rushing to her side. “I didn’t mean to hurt you!” he said, taking her head gently in his hands and peering into her eye, checking for damage.

“I’m fine Midori.” She said, chuckling slightly at his response despite the minor pain she was feeling. At this point, she was more than used to enduring small pains thanks to all their hero training. There wasn’t a day that went by where she didn’t pick up some minor scrape or cut. Sure, the accidental eye attack had stung, but the irritation was already fading.

Izuku seemed satisfied that he hadn’t accidentally put her eye out. He sighed in relief, but he kept his hands on the sides of her head, and his eyes stayed locked on hers.

“Midori?” She asked, as the moment of silence dragged on. “You okay in there?”

He smiled softly at that, and let go of her head, turning his face slightly away from hers as he did so. “Sorry. I just…” He turned his face back to hers, and she could see that his cheeks were dusted with red. “I always forget how pretty your eyes are, so when I see them up close like that, I get distracted.” He idly poked the tips of his index fingers together as he spoke.

Now it was Mina’s turn to blush, a brilliant lilac filling her cheeks as her heart started to beat faster. <Being that cute has to be illegal>

She pulled Izuku into a tight hug and planted a firm kiss on his cheek, which caused him to light up like a christmas tree, just like he did every time she kissed him. It was another one of his cute habits that she had picked up on rather quickly after they had started dating. He reacted to every bit of affection like it was the first time he had received it.

It did make her a bit sad, thinking about how lonely he must have been growing up, if that was the way he reacted. He’d told her a bit about his childhood, how he hadn’t had any friends since his Quirk had come in so late and they had thought he was Quirkless.

Instead of letting the sadness overwhelm her, Mina took the opposite approach. She hugged Izuku even tighter, kissing his cheeks, his forehead, his eyes, and his ears until he was giggling at her to stop. She’d make up for the lack of affection, or her name wasn’t Mina Ashido, girlfriend extraordinaire.

Izuku looked down at Mina’s gently snoring form. She had passed out a few minutes ago, exhaustion finally overtaking the ludicrous amount of sugar and caffeine she had been inhaling all day.

When Mina Ashido partied, she didn’t do it half way.

Smiling, he pulled the blankets up over her shoulders, tucking her comfortably into bed. The pair had changed into pajamas as the day had worn into evening, so there was no need to worry about mussing her clothes.

She sighed contentedly in her sleep, shifting slightly to get into a more comfortable position.

As he leaned down to plant a good night kiss on her forehead, he could hear her mutter something in her sleep.

“Wanna go in the haunted house next…” She whined softly.

He could only chuckle at that. One of their first dates, before they had officially become boyfriend and girlfriend, had been to Universal Studios Japan. They had been more than a little nervous going in, given their previous experience at  a similarly named location.

However, it had turned out excellently. They had both had tons of fun, going on all kinds of rides until they had felt slightly nauseous, checking out the scenery, and buying overpriced gag gifts for their friends and classmates. It had even ended with them sharing their first properly romantic hug, just before they returned to the dorms.

Knowing that she was dreaming about being on a date with him, despite spending nearly the entire day with him made his chest feel warm and full.

He leaned in the rest of the way, planting a soft kiss on her forehead.

She sighed in contentment and snuggled deeper into her pillows.

<How did I get so lucky?> He thought to himself as he flicked off the lights.

Just before the door clicked shut behind him, he whispered something that even Jirou would have had trouble hearing from across the room.

“Good night Mina. I love you with all my heart…”

With that, he padded off to his own room, excited to spend the rest of the day with Mina, in the world of his dreams.

Also available on AO3!

[junionigiri]

Peony Pink and Cherry Blossom Tea Ch 9: Still A Crybaby

Summary: Do they talk this time??? Eh.

Relationship(s): Todoroki Shouto/Uraraka Ochako; the Todoroki siblings

Rating: T (canon-typical violence)

Warnings/Notes: Hi to the 5 people still reading this! :)

Shouto remembers the night that Touya-nii ran away.

He doesn’t see his big brother a lot, so he doesn’t remember a lot about him. Shouto knows that he’s tall, and has red hair and blue eyes like the left part of himself. When they posed for a picture with Mom that one time, Shouto remembers his skin feeling cold, like his own right side.

He also knows that like him, Touya is always wrapped in bandages. But he’s always smiling when he plays with Fuyumi and Natsuo, like they don’t hurt. It makes him look cool, and Shouto wants to look cool like that one day.

It’s late, maybe past midnight when Shouto wakes up from another bad dream and feels very thirsty. Not wanting to wake anyone up, he decides to go down to the kitchen himself.

At first he’s scared because it’s dark and he might fall. But to his surprise there are lights near the front door. And voices.

“... are you sure about this, Touya?” That’s Fuyumi-nee, and her voice sounds weird. It sounds weak and froggy, like it does sometimes when she sees Shouto after a hard day of training with Dad.

“Yeah…” Touya-nii. He isn’t whispering, but his voice is really soft. “I can’t do what he wants anymore. I’d rather die.”

“Yeah, but… running away… where will you go? What if you get hurt? I mean, maybe we can try talking to Dad about you and...”

“Fuyumi-nee, there’s no other way if it’s Dad. You know that.” Natsu-nii is also there. Shouto peeks from the hallway and sees his silver hair and Touya’s Samurai Blue duffel bag in his hands. “But nii-san… you’ll try to keep in touch with us, right?”

“I’ll think about it.”

Touya is silent for some time as he ties his shoes. It’s weird that he’s putting on his shoes even though it’s dark outside. Shouto kind of wants to ask why, but he doesn’t know if it’s okay to talk with him. Or any of them.

(Dad was extra mad today, so maybe he shouldn’t.)

But before he can turn around and leave, he sees Touya stop and slowly turn to him. Bright blue eyes land on his, wide like he’s scared at first, before they change into something else. “Shouto.”

Fuyumi and Natsuo look at him too. They don’t move for a while, and Shouto is suddenly too afraid to move too.

Touya breaks the silence among them. He smiles and puts his arms out to Shouto. “Don’t just stand there, Shou. Wanna come here?”

He nods and quietly pads over the tatami and then next to his older brother. He doesn’t understand why he hugs him, but he does, and Touya does the same thing. When Shouto feels his arms with their messy bandages around them, he wonders why they feel like coals instead of ice.

“Where are you going, Touya-nii?”

Touya smirks. “Dunno. An adventure. An awesome one.”

“That sounds fun,” Shouto says in awe. Touya is so cool. He’s big and strong and he can do whatever he likes without feeling scared. “I wanna go too.”

Fuyumi bites her lower lip and shakes her head. “No… Shoucchan, come here, okay? It’s way past your bedtime, and… and Dad will be mad if he sees that you’re not sleeping.”

Natsuo starts to look weird too. “I dunno nee-san… Maybe Shou could go with him? Maybe--”

“No!” She whispers so that no-one will hear, but she sounds angry. She pulls Shouto from Touya’s arms and holds him close. “You can’t take him too… he’s too little, it’ll be too scary…”

“And what Dad does to him isn’t scary?” Natsuo’s whisper is louder and angrier. “I don’t like watching Shou go through the same thing as nii-san, you know?”

“But Touya doesn’t even know where he’s going,” Fuyumi hisses. Her grip on Shouto becomes tighter. “What if they get hurt out there?”

“They’re… already getting hurt here.”

They fall silent after that. Shouto doesn’t know why they’re worried about him and Touya-nii. Training hurts, but Dad says that once they’re the best, nothing will hurt anymore. So all they have to do is train more, until he and Touya-nii become the strongest heroes, and then everything will be okay, right?

“It’s fine. Doesn’t hurt that much.” Touya stands up and ruffles Shouto’s hair. “Anyways, Shou, crybabies aren’t allowed in adventures, so I can’t take you. You’re just gonna get in my way.”

“I’m not a crybaby,” he says with a pout. He hasn’t cried in a while, not even when Dad hit him in the tummy after breakfast.

“Yeah? Who cried when Natsuo blew out the candle on his birthday cake, huh?”

Shouto puffs his cheeks. “That was last year.”

A long time ago. Shouto doesn’t remember the last time someone had a birthday party at their house. Touya’s eyes suddenly look sad. “Yeah… last year, huh. Oh well.” He takes his bag from Natsuo and slings it over his shoulder. “Anyways, I’m outta this joint. You brats better take care of that crybaby, you hear? Or else I’m going back and takin’ him with me, no matter what you say.”

Natsuo nods and does a salute like they do in the Gundam animes they watch together. Shouto tries to do the same. “Yes, cap’n.” His voice sounds weird, like Fuyumi’s, but he smiles.

Touya salutes back, and goes for the door. It opens and it closes, as doors tend to do, and the house becomes unnaturally silent. Shouto remembers staring at it and wondering if he’ll see Touya again in the morning, playing football with Fuyumi and Natsuo like nothing happened.

By the time the weeping Fuyumi takes him upstairs with a cup of tea though, he suddenly understands that he’ll never see Touya outside his window again.

Shouto isn’t a crybaby anymore, but he sleeps with a saltwater-soaked pillowcase that night.

*

The weeks have been hard for Shouto.

He hasn’t been able to sleep well, eat well. Work had been terribly busy thanks to the upsurge in villain activity. He can’t complain; he doesn’t have the energy to. His days are spent in the OR, his nights spent collapsing on the bed or on the couch or on the floor, wherever his mood and energy levels take him.

People stare at him. At the empty space next to him. Then back at him, as if adding two and two together. It was only a matter of time before the rumors circulate. And they do, with a vengeance.

He doesn’t care, although it becomes extra troublesome when Endeavor catches wind of them and asks him questions about it. Leaving him on read is a simple matter, but it’s a little difficult when Fuyumi-nee starts to ask, and Natsu-nii.

Mom has been quiet about it, but her eyes look a little down when they do their video calls. She’s happy enough seeing him, she says, and she can’t wait for his next visit.

He doesn’t want Mom to be sad. She shouldn’t be, because Shouto’s been alone all this time. He isn’t technically any different from the time he went to see her and everyone else in Shizuoka.

(It’s just that now, he doesn’t have any of Ochako’s stories to listen to.)

But. He doesn’t recall being alone--truly alone this time, without the shield of a fake relationship to distract him--ever felt like this: a confusing state of too wide, too narrow. Too noisy, too quiet. Too much of himself, and too little at the same time.

He doesn’t enjoy it. But he doesn’t suffer in it either. He doesn’t know what to do with himself while in it.

There’s lots of space to take a good look at himself. All his scars and cracks and soft spots. Most days he doesn’t like what he sees, doesn’t like the stories that the sight of each blemish gives him.

Other times he doesn’t care. Those times are okay. He doesn’t have to hate Endeavor or himself as much. The past weeks aren’t any different from most of his life, in retrospect.

The short time with Ochako just made him believe that maybe a life other than that is possible. Even though it was pretend from the start.

Tonight is two weeks… three weeks? since they last spoke. He’s tired and alone and his hands are shaking and freezing and burning again. It’s not different from any other bad nights, but there’s a period of lucidity that makes him conclude:

This isn’t right. Being alone like this isn’t right.

He… needs help.

Real professional help.

Maybe… just this once, he can ask for it. Endeavor isn’t around to tell him that he can’t.

Fuyumi could help. Or Natsuo. Mom needed help, and was helped before, right? It wouldn’t be so bad. It would be logical to ask.

Maybe there’s someone in the psychiatry department that can help him. Shinsou works with them frequently because of his quirk. He’s a trustworthy guy, and quiet. Maybe he can ask him too.

He stares at into the emptiness of his apartment, and at his shaking hands. It’s silly, but just thinking of that feels like a breakthrough. That there’s a way out of this odd despondence that he has plunged head-first in.

Strange, that out of nowhere he wants to tell her. Maybe just to let her know that he doesn’t know if there’s a meaning to all of these things he’s feeling, but he found a way to find out, at least.

It’s way past midnight of a busy day. Shouto stares at his phone and begins to compose a message.

*

Ochako (0032H): hey, so about last time, im sorry. if ur not busy lets talk for real this time

Me (0032H): Can we see each other soon?

Me (0033H): …

Ochako (0033H): …

Ochako (0034H): haha

Ochako (0034H): at the same time… r u kidding me

Me (0035H): Yes.

Me (0035H): It’s pretty… amusing.

Me (0036H): I’m surprised that you’re still awake at this hour.

Ochako (0038H): ur not sleeping yet either

Me (0039H): No… I’m not. Not at all.

Ochako (0041H): so

Me (0041H): so

Ochako (0042H): again? Hahaha

Me (0043H): Yes, it’s uncanny.

Me (0045H): You said you wanted to talk?

Ochako (0046H): … yea, i do

Ochako (0047H): i mean,, i know we havent been… since that time

Ochako (0049H): i think i have things i want to say to you. And to myself too.

Me (0051H): I understand.

Me (0052H): It’s the same for me.

Me (0053H): Is tomorrow all right?

Me (0054H): I am free in the morning. But we don’t have to meet that soon, if you’re not ready.

Me (0056H): I understand if you aren’t comfortable yet.

Ochako (0059H): no, it’s okay.

Ochako (0100H): tomorrow’s perfect.

Me (0103H): …

Ochako (0105H): i’m not kidding. It is.

Ochako (0106H): my shift is in the afternoon, so… we can just see each other early?

Me (0109H): All right.

Me (0110H): We can have coffee, if you like.

Ochako (0111H): that would be cool, im ok with just 7-11 hehe

Me (0112H): No. The coffee there is terrible.

Me (0113H): You aren’t drinking any of those awful drinks if I can help it.

Ochako (0114H): omg lol i figured,,, u boujee

Me (0115H): … boujee?

Ochako (0117H): u rich kid. ur just like yaomomo

Ochako (0118H): haha but ok, we can maybe go to bakugous place if u want good coffee

Me (0119H): Oh. Will that place be okay for you?

Ochako (0120H): ah

Ochako (0121H): … yeah…. Bakugous scary, but… i mean he’s cool and his cafe is near the hosp, and if doesn’t matter if you, before… i mean, i rly dont mind going there

Me (0122H): All right. :) I’ll see you tomorrow, then.

Ochako (0125H): !!!!!!!

Ochako (0126H): is that smiley… real

Me (0127H): ? Did I use it correctly?

Ochako (0129H): oh! Yes. Yes you did

Ochako (0130H): lmao i must be dreaming its so late

Me (0132H): It is, haha.

Ochako (0133H): and now ur goin haha

Ochako (0134H): i think ur brain is also shuttin down shouto

Me (0135H): I don’t know about that.

Me (0136H): I don’t feel as terrible as I have a few hours ago.

Ochako (0138H): thats great… hehe

Ochako (0140H): so… im getting sleepy…

Ochako (0141H): im dizzy too… kinda too drunk, maybe

Me (0142H): … all right.

Me (0145H): I’ll let you sleep it off.

Me (0146H): Good night, Ochako.

*

The sun has just risen when Shouto sees her in the hospital lobby.

He sees her on most days, although he hasn’t looked her in the eye for a long time now. Ochako is in her scrub suit and a Hosu Gen jacket. Her hair is a little messy and is mostly up in a messy bun, exposing the back of her neck. Her eyes look a little tired, but they’re as bright and brown as he remembers them.

She smiles quietly. A little dizzily. Maybe she's hungover. It's not as off-putting as it should be.

“Hey,” he says.

The smile brightens and somehow reach her eyes. “Good morning, Doctoroki. It’s been a while.”

He nods and stares at her, instantly forgetting his script, not quite knowing what to do next.

“So… Bakugou or Jirou aren’t here yet to open the cafe, and we don’t have anywhere else to go,” she says with an awkward laugh. Maybe she notices how he doesn’t seem to know what to do next.

“It’s fine.” There are a few people walking by, with more important things to do. They don’t spare them a second glance. “We can start talking here.”

So they flop down on the worn lobby couch determinedly and stare each other down. Open their mouths, and close them again at the same time. It’s funny how they do that often.

“I’ll start,” Ochako says with an amused glow of her pink cheeks. They’re also as round as Shouto remembers them. A surge of nostalgia overwhelms him. “So… um, first of all… I’m sorry, I messed up. You didn’t deserve the things I said to you last time we saw each other.”

She pauses and assesses the look on his face. “I really am, okay? I was… am, insecure. I kinda got mad at you for things that I had no right to be mad at, and I didn’t even give you a chance to explain yourself. I was too focused on myself, but even then I sucked at focusing on myself because I didn’t really understand what I wanted and what I was afraid of. Like… maybe it’s just a perpetual fear of being alone and discarded and unwanted, because I had a lot of that in the past, and maybe… maybe I need to know for myself how to deal with that first, before I even think about you, and...”

She stops for a breath and laughs humorlessly. “And… you’re just staring at me like that. I really don’t know what you’re thinking.”

“Oh,” he says apologetically. “I didn’t want to distract you. I am listening, promise.”

She makes a cute little whining noise. “I know, just… urgh, I feel ridiculous, just monologuing like this. I’m beggin’ ya to stop me, ya know?!”

His mouth twists upward. “I kind of don’t want to. It’s nice listening to you talk.”

Her cheeks flush and puff and he realizes how long it’s been since he last saw that. How he missed it. How he missed her.

“You have to talk too, Doctoroki,” she says, jabbing him at the side with a finger. “I’m not the only one screwed in the head here, ya know?”

He catches her hand and forces it down on her side. She freezes at the feel of his hand on hers, and he does too, for a moment.

It’s nice, but he shouldn’t be distracted. “You’re right. I am… not okay.”

It’s a little hard to continue, with the look of warmth and concern on her face, like she’s ready to do anything for him again and he knows that’s what got them into trouble in the first place.

Well, he has to say words properly this time, so no misunderstanding occurs. “... I feel exactly the same way about myself. After thinking about it, I think the best thing for me to do is--”

Alarm spikes in his gut, so sharp he flinches.

Ochako stares at him with wide eyes. “Shouto? What’s wrong?”

He knows what this is. Even though it’s been years since the last time he was out on the field as a pro, his body remembers. All his nerves are alight, his muscles tense. His brain tells him to calm down, look around, find out what it is that’s wrong about this situation.

When the rumbling starts, he’s already pushing Ochako’s head down and facing the glass windows. An ice shield is already up before the floor in front of them collapses, and the people start to scream.

He hears a lot of things shattering beyond the wall, likely the glass and concrete. He hopes it isn’t his ice.

“Run,” he tells Ochako sternly, standing his ground. “Help everyone else get out of here.”

“But--wh-what is that, what’s going on?”

“Doesn’t matter. Evacuate.”

More shattering noises. A black shadow is on the other side, getting closer and closer. He wills fire to form on his hand, burning the sleeve of his coat.

Ochako, pale as a ghost, finally nods. With the people screaming around her, she starts to yell, “Everyone, please follow me, the fire exit is this way--”

The moment the ice shatters, Shouto’s hand bursts into flame. He targets the brunt of the heat onto the black thing’s face, not even bothering to see if it’s human or not. He can only target focus so much heat and smoke before the sprinklers come on, so he has to do as much damage with one blow.

He knows he applied enough heat to melt human flesh. But the thing that stares back at him--vacant, and only mildly offended by the fire--is obviously not.

A hand made of pure power starts to go down, fingers twitching as if to clutch him. It’s too close, he doesn’t have time to roll away or to fight back.

“Todoroki!”

Silver and black fill his vision, as do the sounds of metal hitting metal. When he opens his eyes, he’s up in the ceiling, and a person made of steel is in his place, holding back against a fist to the top of his head.

“Fuck, that hurts what the hell!” Tetsutetsu screams. Next to him, Shoji and Awase yell their expletives, a mass array of randomly fused bits of steel in their hands. “Let’s kill this thing you guys!”

Shouto stares at this bug-eyed before he realizes that he’s going down. In the next moment, he drops to the ground, the dark matter around him unraveling until it’s in the shape of a crow, floating next to Tokoyami Fumikage. “Todoroki, are you all right?"

“Yeah,” Shouto says, half in awe, half in panic. “What are you doing here? Everyone’s supposed to be evacuating.”

“Shouto!” Ochako yells from behind him. She is panting, along with Kendo, Honenuki, and Shiozaki, who are followed by a rather large group of pale-faced civilians. “There’s no way out. There’s more of them out there roaming the streets.”

“... a whole lot more of them,” Honenuki adds, with a swallow. “I saw at least five of them trying to break in here when we tried to evacuate just now. I made them sink to the ground, but it’s only a matter of time before they make their way out. They seem strong.”

Five more of these. He looks away from them briefly to form a wall between the fight and the civilians.

“We called the police, but I’m not sure how quickly they’ll respond,” says Kendo, as more shattering and rumbling noises emerge from around them. “And the pros too, but…”

Shiozaki sniffles. She’s a little paler than everyone else when she speaks. “I… called Emily. She’s responding to the call, but… it’s not just Hosu that’s suffering from the wrath of these beasts. Nomus, she called these abominations.” Her trembling hands are clasped in front of her, as if in deep prayer. “Who are these sinners who would dare play god like this, and terrorize so many innocents?”

The League of Villains, Shouto thinks in despair. Is this another stupid war against heroes? Another war against the number one hero?

Endeavor’s face flashes in his mind briefly, along with a concerning rush of emotions he cannot name. He shakes these off and stands up. “We have no time to waste, whatever this is,” he mutters, before running back to the fray, with fire and ice in his hands.

“Shouto!!!”

He noticed something while he was fighting the Nomu. There are people all around them, but it only seemed to target Shouto first. Its arms curl, as if in an effort to grab him. When Tokoyami caught him, its eyes went from Dark Shadow to Tokoyami, and were it not for Tetsutetsu distracting it with his steel skin, then it would have chased after the two of them…

This Nomu has targets, it seems. Shouto, Tokoyami, and Tetsutetsu are among some of them.

“Todoroki, watch out!” Shoji shouts, as he himself is thrown backwards with a blow to the stomach.

Is it because of their quirks? Is the League of Villains collecting innocent civilians with destructive quirks? What are they going to do with them?

The answers aren’t very important right now , Shouto reprimands himself as he throws more fire and ice against the Nomu.

“Todoroki! What the hell are you doing?!” Awase screams, as Shouto catches the Nomu’s eye with a small fireball to the face.

“Distracting it,” Shouto says evenly. “It comes after you if it sees you use a quirk. I’ll lead it away from everyone else--”

“No, don’t be stupid!” Tetsutetsu chokes, even as he bleeds from broken skin at his head. Ochako, who hears everything, pales more than ever and begins to move towards him. Kendo thankfully has the sense to hold her back with a normal-sized hand.

“--and when it’s far away, Shiozaki should form a barrier all around the lobby with her quirk. I’ll reinforce it with ice from outside.”

He doesn’t know why his voice is so calm and distant when he speaks. All eyes are on him as the Nomu blindly chases after him, seeking out his fire like a moth to a flame, too fast, too fast. He forms ice under his feet and slides out of the building on freezing waves.

In a matter of seconds, he’s outside of the building, the Nomu stumbling after him. As soon as they’re out in the sun, vines begin to emerge from the ground, forming a wall. To his relief, even though Tetsutetsu and Awase run to stop him, the vines seal them safely inside the lobby.

Now, he just has to deal with the Nomu by himself.

He hits the monster with fire and ice, but it’s difficult because his stance is unsteady, and it’s not doing his aim any favors. There are holes in the concrete, all manner of things falling around him as buildings crumble. There are screams and gunshots and blasts and rumbles of thunder from a distance.

He needs to fight. Fire, in his hand, now.

It doesn’t form. Something hits him at the back of his head.

It’s heavy and it comes from above, accompanied by a body falling somewhere close by. Debris, he realizes. He hopes that the person thrown is still alive. He hopes that it isn’t a civilian. Or a pro.

But there isn’t time to worry about someone else. His vision goes blurry, nausea filling his senses in waves. He tries to form ice when he can’t aim the fire anymore. The glaciers are hollow and weak, easily breaking when the monster moves.

The Nomu tilts its head at him curiously, hands going for his neck.

“Shouto!! Move!!”

Out of nowhere, the nausea at the pit of his stomach blooms into a complete weightlessness. Someone’s arms are around him. The Nomu misses and looks up at them, temporarily at a loss on what to do.

He looks at the owner of the voice. And the arms. And the reason why he’s floating. “Ochako.”

He means to sound angry, because he really is. He wants to tell her that she isn’t supposed to be here and why is she putting herself in danger for him when she was already safe inside? But his head still feels odd, and he only manages a slightly befuddled question aimed vaguely at all.

“We have to get you out of here,” she tells him in a voice that sounds too far away. They’re twenty feet in the air, and the higher they get the greener Ochako’s face becomes. “We can hide up the roof until the pros--”

She doesn’t even have the time to scream as the monster leaps from the ground and gets a hold of their legs. The tug jars them both, and despite zero gravity, they find themselves being pulled to the ground.

Ochako hisses in pain as her ankle is violently pulled down. “Shit! Get off me, you--”

He struggles and kicks and tries to burn and/or freeze the monster’s arms off. But he can only do so much without burning their own legs off. He can’t think straight, can’t aim well, can’t do anything--

When they sink, they’re suddenly engulfed in blue flame. It’s so hot he wonders if they’ve descended to hell.

The monster screeches like a pterodactyl and lets them go. Ochako appears beyond her limit of using her quirk and releases them as soon as they’re on concrete that’s not burning.

He crawls to her, coughing from the smoke and ashes billowing around them. He tries to form ice around them and then holds her with his right hand. “Ochako,” he calls out, weakly.

She stares at the flames in front of them, eyes as wide as saucers. “It’s… you,” she says weakly.

Amidst the chaos all around them, Shouto wonders why it’s the first thing that comes out of her mouth. And then he looks at the person she’s talking to: jet-black hair, burnt skin, stitches that make him look like a patchwork doll rather than a human. Flames are sprouting out of his hands, blue and hot that it stings his skin from a distance.

Blue eyes, cold with anger, stare down at the Nomu and then at the two of them. “Get outta here. Take Shouto with you.”

“Wh… who are you?” How does he know his name? Why does Ochako know who he is? How is this fire possible?

Does he know him?

The man glares at him for a split second before turning his attention back to the Nomu. The temperature is so high, the blasts so loud that the steel bars sticking out of broken concrete begin to wilt like flowers. His skin begins to burn, his ice quirk at his state can only do so much to counteract the heat.

“Shouto, let’s go,” Ochako says urgently, tugging at his sleeve. She’s burning up too, even though he’s trying to cover them in frost. “I can still make us float, just hold on to me, okay?”

He knows that leaving is the best thing to do right now, and that Ochako is their best bet. The Nomu looks like it’s in pain, its movements duller and slower. If they had to escape, it has to be now.

He knows that, but it’s then that something comes back to him. It’s trivial, but it’s when he sees how the blue of the man’s eyes matches the blue of the flames. It’s when he thinks of the way he says Shouto. It’s in the dark of his clothes, the fighting stance, the way his jaw clenches in excruciating pain when he incinerates the monster--

Kodai’s voice in his head: Todoroki-san… are you related to a vigilante named Dabi?

As powerful as it is, the man’s fire isn’t enough to hold the Nomu back. It hits him square in the jaw, making him fly in a smoking heap towards the wall of vines.

Shouto’s eyes snap open from the haze. “Touya-nii!”

His right hand moves without thinking. Another wave of ice emerges from the ground and in between him and the Nomu. There’s fire all around, the hissing heat enough to crack the shield, just enough to slow it down. Shouto moves to form another one, ignoring the dizziness of rapid temperature change around him, all efforts directed on saving him.

The next wave of ice from him is still weak. But the one after that is large and strong, and doesn’t come from him.

“Nii-san! Shou!” a familiar voice screams from behind them.

Shouto momentarily wonders if all he’s seeing is a mirage, because out of nowhere Natsu-nii is running in the scene, dressed in his physical therapist scrubs and bare arms white with frost. He brakes in front of Shouto, onyx eyes shining with worry. “Ochako-chan, go and float! I’ll take care of nii-san!”

“Okay!” Ochako yells, moving to touch Shouto, but he stops her.

“Shouto--”

It’s not the best place for confrontations. He knows that, but his brain’s too jumbled up to care. “Natsu-nii, you knew… you knew that Touya-nii was--”

“We’ll talk after we survive, okay? Just get outta here already!” Natsuo turns away and sends shards of ice careening towards the monster. He’s able to distract the monster enough to get to the dark-haired Touya’s side and to help him up.

“Shouto,” Ochako says, her voice edging at a sob. “Please, your… your brothers are letting us escape, we have to go now . ”

Shouto stares at the scene in front of him, hardly believing it. Natsuo touches Touya in practiced movements, cooling down very specific areas on his arms, face and chest hit the worst by the blue flame. After which, Touya becomes functional enough to shove him aside and throw another pillar of fire at the Nomu, and its friend--

Shit. There are two Nomus now.

Ochako sees this too, and tenses. She looks at him, opening her mouth to probably stop him from doing what he wants to do.

But he doesn’t stop. He stands up, ice and fire forming over both sides. His clothes are all but destroyed now, but he can’t care.

Running forward with a cry, he throws all that he has within him and directs them at the monsters threatening his brothers’ lives. At the same time, great pillars of ice and blue flame cover the two Nomus, leaving them screaming in an inferno of extremes.

It takes a while for the ice to completely shatter and the fire to die down. When they do eventually, one Nomu lies unmoving on the concrete. The other is still standing, but it twitches and trills, arms frozen in mid-air.

Shouto falls to his knees, suddenly too weak to move. Across from him, Touya does the same, steam rising from his skin. Natsuo also has to lean against the wall, his face covered in frost, breath coming out thick and white through chattering teeth.

It turns to Shouto. Blue flames begin to emerge from within--is this a copy quirk?--running at full speed, ready to burn him--

“RELEASE!!!”

A meteor shower falls over the Nomu, burying it under boulders and rubble. The pile shudders once, and remains still.

Silence falls over them. He hears Ochako gasp and fall next to him, feels her soft arms around him and her sigh of relief.

“Oh my god… I can’t believe that worked,” she says, voice cracking, eyes leaking with tears. “D-don’t ever do that again, Shouto, don’t you dare-- ”

“I’m sorry,” he says, holding her close. “It’s… it’s over now. We survived.”

“Really?” she sniffs.

“Yeah. Really. You saved us, Ochako-chan.” Natsuo and Touya stumble in their direction, looking like they’d fall over if they weren’t leaning on each other.

His… brothers.

Shouto is on his feet before he knows it, looking up into blue eyes and black hair and burning skin. His mouth opens and closes. He probably stares for too long, because he can’t believe what he’s seeing.

The man looks back at him, tired as hell, but still smirking.

“Don’t just stand there, Shou. Wanna come here?”

He nods, and embraces him. The smell of ash fills his nostrils and almost chokes him, pushing tears out of his eyes. He’s so weak and spent that his entire body starts to shake, and--

“Geez. Still a crybaby, huh, Shouto.”

“Stupid nii-san,” he grumbles. He has too many things to say, but he can’t think of anything else right now except how his older brother is alive and well and breathing in his arms.

Touya chuckles and ruffles his hair. “Okay, that’s enough, yeah? I think the pros are here, so I gotta get outta here before they catch me doing a better job of protecting the city than them.”

True enough, people in colorful suits suddenly rush the scene, falling down on the monsters littering the streets like arrows. The turn of the tide is visible and dramatic, with heroes of all shapes and sizes plucking civilians from the streets and/or pummeling Nomus to the ground.

“We gotta get you out of here, nii-san. It’ll be harder to keep you outta sight if we stay here,” Natsuo says, mustering up enough energy to lift him more decidedly by the shoulder.

Shouto looks up at them meaningfully.

Touya rolls his eyes. “Are ya really gonna throw a tantrum about me running away from home years and years ago? Right now? ”

Despite the situation, he hears Ochako snort behind him. Natsuo huffs, giving Shouto an amused smile. “We’ll talk later, promise. Right now, you and Ochako have to help out all the injured and--”

A flash of light cuts off his sentence.

“LOOK! Up in the sky!!!”

Simultaneously, they turn to the sky, the mess of people around them doing the same thing.

At the center of the Hosu skyline, the vision of an exploding star rises. Orange and green and blue flames as hot as the sun, expanding twenty meters in all directions. Shouto sees the gaudy blue and orange of his suit, the flashy flames of his face bursting with the rest of the flashfire.

“It’s Endeavor! We’re saved!” Someone screams in relief from below.

“The old man’s still at it, huh.” Touya’s voice is ragged and cold, his smile sardonic. Still, he’s looking up at the sky, watching the fight. Natsuo, too. His mouth is twisted as if he’s tasted something bitter, but he can’t take his eyes off the sky, the sun.

All of them are watching him.

People are screaming, cheering for him. He’s never heard such a strong approval of him. He wonders how he’s going to flaunt this after all this chaos is over…

And then, it happens. It probably lasts a second, but Shouto sees the moment stretched out, painful and slow.

Something gleams, pointed and silver, from the Nomu’s hand. It’s strong, and aims for the middle of Endeavor’s forehead. It misses.

It hits the side of his neck instead.

And as quickly as the brilliant sunfire comes, they disappear. Endeavor falls like a comet from the sky, a streak of crimson trailing from his neck as it does. He crashes into the side of an office building, the sound of crushed glass and steel and stone echoing across the sky, onto the street.

The silence that follows is deafening.