#icy and stormy were so hard

[cvntbutch]

Look at my bosses yall.. I’m getting fired 😭😭

[seonghrtz]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐖𝐄 𝐌𝐄𝐓.

synopsis: gojo shows up at your flat door to ask you for a favor. warnings: mention of childhood abuse. mention of death.

It was a rainy night in Kyoto. The raindrops fell systematically, and the icy wind blew through the streets, taking the leaves from the trees with it. The blue sea sky was covered with heavy clouds that dumped rain without fear of disturbing the city's inhabitants. Due to the stormy weather ⸻ and the time of day ⸻ there were few people out on the streets, many taking shelter in their homes, as was the case with Kamo Y/n.

Her foot, covered in a fluffy sock with red and white stripes, touched the wooden floor of her apartment as she walked calmly into the living room. Tomorrow would be her day off, something extremely rare for a jujutsu sorceress of her level. And even though the elders of the jujutsu world seemed to have a certain disdain for the word "rest" and for the fact that they didn't care about the physical and mental well-being of the younger generations, putting children and teenagers through completely inhumane and exhausting training, the young Kamo still had a few tricks up her sleeve.

And who says an injury caused by a grade one curse can't be a blessing? Sure, having a partially-healed wound on her shoulder could be hell on earth, but at least it had guaranteed her a day without worries.

Kamo Y/n didn't have many good, quiet moments during her childhood and adolescence. Born outside the clan, Y/n was only truly "accepted" when it was discovered that she possessed the acclaimed technique inherited from the Kamo family, blood manipulation, as well as other abilities, the most surprising of which ⸻ and unseen by the clan members ⸻ was the ability to control not only her own blood, but the blood of her opponents. With such a great and unique ability, one of the greatest clans in jujutsu society couldn't afford to lose sight of it and not appropriate this power. The young Kamo has had a hard and intense training, accompanied by a near-death experience, so such a break would be a utopian reality fully exploited.

But as all good things are, before the young woman could even sit down on her cozy little three-seater sofa, desperate knocks on her door echoed through the apartment.

A sigh left the girl's lips and a question came. Who was knocking on her door at the crack of dawn? Perhaps it was Utahime, or even Shoko, who came up with the idea of watching a film while gossiping about the jujutsu world.

However, when Y/n opened the door, she was surprised to see the round glasses of a certain jujutsu sorcerer with an ego as big as his fame.

"Kamo-san." A complicit smile formed on the white-haired boy's lips in front of the young woman.

"Gojo..." A sigh left the young woman's lips.

What was Gojo Satoru, the strongest jujutsu sorcerer of his generation, doing outside her apartment door?

Ever since she was taken to the Kamo clan, Y/n had been warned about the child who possessed the six-eyes technique. And although there was a certain amount of rivalry between the three most powerful families, she knew that her clan's situation compared to the Zenin clan was a little more favorable with the Gojo clan.

But even so, Y/n had no hypothesis that could explain the alleged appearance of a Gojo in her apartment, let alone any idea that would lead her to the answer as to how he knew where she lived.

Some piece of that puzzle was out of place.

"So..." Gojo said uncertainty, the smile still on his lips.

"Shoko's not here."

"Shoko? What? No! No! I'm not after Shoko!"

"Then... why are you here?"

"Ah... well..." Gojo's gaze sank lower.

Y/n's eyes followed the movement of the sorcerer's bright blue eyes in front of her and noticed a child being held like a shopping bag.

"You..." Kamo looked at the child, who had a neutral expression on his face, and then at Gojo "You kidnapped a child?"

"WHAT?" Gojo laughed mockingly, "I'm just doing a favor..."

"And why are you here?"

"To ask you for a favor..." Gojo's smile faded from his lips.

"You came all the way to Kyoto to ask me for a favor?"

"Well, I have a mission near Kyoto and since you live here, I wanted to ask you for a favor..." Gojo's free hand went to the back of his head, "Ah, you could look after this brat while I do the mission, I promise it won't take too long."

"If you knew you had a mission, why did you agree to look after him?"

"Well, it's more complicated than you can imagine... But it's just this once and I promise I'll be back as soon as I can, just stay with him for a few hours."

Y/n looked again at the child held by Gojo. The boy met her gaze, but his expression remained neutral, he looked a little tired. But the intensity of his green eyes sent a shiver down her spine.

"Ah well... ok, but only for a few hours." Y/n looked at Gojo again.

"Thanks, Kamo!" Gojo smiled openly, "I'll reward you later! And you, brat, I think you'd better behave."

Gojo placed the child on the ground next to Kamo and waved his hand before leaving. Y/n watched his white hair disappear until she turned her attention to the child, who was already looking at her.

"Well... ah... make yourself at home." She opened the door to her flat, showing him the living room and the entrance to the kitchen.. The boy glanced in the direction of the jujutsu sorceress before entering the apartment and taking off his sneakers. "What's your name?"

"Fushiguro Megumi."

"My name is Kamo Y/n, it's nice to meet you."

Megumi looked at the girl in front of him and nodded slightly. Apparently he wasn't a child who talked much, only when asked directly.

"Do you want to watch something? Maybe Digimon?" Y/n made her way to the sofa and sat down, waiting for Megumi to follow in her footsteps. "Or anything you want, you don't have to be afraid to ask."

"Could I have a glass of water, please?" Megumi's voice came out a little lower.

"Sure, why don't you sit on the sofa while I get the water. Here's the remote, you can watch whatever you want, don't be shy." Y/n smiled slightly and got up from the sofa, handing Megumi the remote, who accepted it timidly. The young Kamo went into the kitchen and immediately looked for a plastic cup for Megumi. The girl placed the plastic cup in the water filter and listened to the faint sound of the television, perhaps Megumi was beginning to feel comfortable. After filling the cup, Y/n returned to the living room and handed it to Megumi, who thanked her in a whisper.

Kamo sat at the other end of the sofa, watching a documentary on wolves on the television.

"Do you like animals, Fushiguro?" She looked at the child who just nodded, his eyes glued to the television, but Y/n couldn't help but notice the slight blush on Megumi's ears. He was cute, even though he seemed to want to look serious.

But the real question there was what Gojo Satoru had gotten himself into by taking care of this child...

"I think I deserve an explanation." Y/n crossed her arms as she looked at her reflection in Gojo's round lens sunglasses.

It was almost two in the morning, and Megumi ended up sleeping on the sofa during the documentary about white elephants.

"Well, it's a long story..." Gojo laughed slightly, his hand on the back of his head.

"Then I guess we'll have a long night." Y/n gave Gojo room to enter the flat. The first thing his blue eyes saw was the figure of little Fushiguro wrapped in a blanket on the sofa.

"Is there somewhere more private we can talk?" Gojo's voice sounded serious in contrast to the smile that played on his lips.

"Let's go to my room."

"Aren't you going to buy me a drink first?" Gojo smiled mischievously, letting his glasses slip down the bridge of his nose to reveal his incredibly bright blue eyes.

"Stop being an idiot, Gojo," Y/n rolled her eyes as she led him to her room. When they reached the room, the girl closed the door behind her and sat on the bed with her legs and arms crossed. "You can start talking now."

"Ah... well..." Gojo laughed nervously, "Have you ever heard of Toji Zenin?"

"Toji Zenin? The non-cursed user who was an ex-member of the Zenin family? Who was known as the Sorcerer Killer?"

"Yes. Huum well... a while ago I met him and we had a "disagreement" that led to his death..."

"But what does Toji Zenin have to do with Fushiguro?"

"Toji Zenin is Megumi's father..." Gojo pressed his lips together in a line, waiting for a reaction from Y/n.

"You killed Megumi's father..." The girl's words sounded more like a statement than a question.

"Megumi was going to be sold to the Zenin family."

"And now you're looking after Fushiguro so that he doesn't fall into the hands of the Zenin clan?"

"That's pretty much it," Gojo shrugged.

"Do you think you can take care of a child half your age?" Y/n looked at him incredulously. "Gojo, the Jujutsu world is unpredictable and cruel, there are many variables and bad things that can–"

"That's why I'm trying."

"You're a hopeless case," Kamo whispered and let out a sigh, "you're going to need help, and lots of it."

"So you'll help me?" Gojo's eyes sparkled with hope.

"Gojo, Fushiguro is a child, he needs someone to look after him and protect him, preferably an adult who knows how."

"I want Megumi to have a normal childhood, I don't want him to have to go through what we went through, that's not fair." Gojo sighed.

Y/n looked at Gojo. He was right. Megumi deserved a decent childhood, something different from the hostile treatment she had received as a child. He didn't deserve to go through what she had gone through as a child, no one did. And helping Gojo from time to time with Megumi could, perhaps, improve the boy's situation.

"If you need help, you can call me." Kamo's words surprised Gojo.

"Really?!" the light in Satoru's eyes returned at the same moment.

"Yes, but you must promise me that Fushiguro will not go to the Zenin clan, no matter what abilities he develops."

"I promise!" A broad smile appeared on Gojo's lips.

"Well, this is going to be a long journey..." a sigh left Y/n's lips, hardly knowing what the future held.

memory garden masterlist !

☆! tag list : @arminswifee . @khaleesihavilliard . @chieeeeeee . @manooffline . @shybananabagellover . @r0ckst4rjk . @sad-darksoul . @chuluoyi . @stormflysaysstuff

© SEONGHRTZ, 2023ㅤ⸻ㅤall rights reserved. please do not copy / steal / translate / modify any of my works !

[greygaunt]

How the Slytherin boys would react to you being part of Dumbledore’s Army

Draco Malfoy

Draco stormed into the empty common room, his cold, stormy eyes ablaze with fury as he confronted you. His usually composed demeanor was replaced by raw anger and a bitter feeling of betrayal. He glared at you. “You," he spat, pointing an accusing finger in your direction. "I can't believe you're part of this... this mockery of loyalty!" You braced yourself, knowing this confrontation was long overdue. "Draco, please, you know why I did it.” You took a deep breath. “Calm down.” His eyes narrowed. “Calm down?” he scoffed, his voice dripping with disdain. "After everything we've been through, you choose to side with Potter, with the mudbloods? With them?!" You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his words like a punch to the gut. "I’m trying to protect myself, Draco. You know that.” He shook his head, his platinum hair falling across his forehead in disarray. "Protect yourself? You call betraying me protecting yourself? You call risking everything we have protecting yourself?” He began to pace. “It's not about betrayal, Draco," you insisted, your voice tinged with desperation. "It's about making sure I get to stay alive, my family gets to live, that I can still be here to protect you.” But Draco wasn't listening, his anger boiling over as he paced back and forth, his hands clenched into white knuckles fists. "Protect me?! Why would I want you to protect me when you've turned your back on everything we've ever stood for?” His shoulders looked tight. Tension hung thick in the air. “It was my job to protect you. I was the one that was supposed to keep you safe. Not Potter, or Weasley, or Longbottom. Me.” His voice was laced with disgust. “Draco, please," you pleaded, reaching out a hand in a feeble attempt to bridge the gap between you. "I don't want to lose you over this." Draco recoiled as if your touch burned him, his expression hardening into a mask of icy resolve. "Lose me?" he scoffed. "There's nothing left to lose."

Mattheo Riddle

Mattheo’s warm gaze was now ablaze with hurt and anger as he approached you. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, his veins popping in his arms as they swung with his steps. “I can't believe this," he growled, his voice trembling with emotion. "You, of all people, turning against me? Turning against us?" You felt a pang of guilt as you met his gaze, knowing that your actions had wounded him deeply. "Mattheo, please, let me explain..." But he cut you off, his voice sharp with hurt. "Explain? What is there to explain? You went behind my back, put yourself in danger, and refused to let me protect you. Seems I understand.” His words hung heavy. You stepped towards him, desperate to make your side apparent. "I had to do what I could to keep my brother safe, Mattheo. I couldn't just stand by and do nothing." He rolled his eyes. “So I’m incapable of keeping you safe?” he scoffed, his eyes flashing with anger. "Why put yourself in harm's way? Why shut me out?" Tears stung your eyes as you watched the pain etch itself into his features, knowing that you were the cause of it. "I didn't mean to shut you out, Mattheo. I just... I thought I was doing what was best. I needed to keep my brother safe. I can’t risk his life.” Mattheo shook his head, his expression cold. "Best for who? Certainly not for us." The weight of his words settled over you like a heavy blanket, suffocating you. You knew that the bond you shared with Mattheo had been fractured, splintered. “I never wanted to hurt you." You whispered, stepping towards him again. He stepped back. “Too late.” He muttered, his eyes filled with disappointment.

Theodore Nott

You were stood in the astronomy tower, gazing over the dark castle. You heard footsteps as Theodore made his presence known. His eyes, usually warm and welcoming, were now filled with betrayal as he faced you. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he muttered, his voice thick with emotion. "You, of all people, keeping secrets from me, choosing sides without even giving me a chance to understand." You felt your stomach flip as you met his gaze. “Theo. I didn’t know how.” He raised his eyebrows, his words cutting through the air like a knife. "You didn’t know how? Is it that difficult to be honest? I thought we trusted each other.” You gathered your courage and reached for his hands, desperate to make him understand why you did what you did. "I didn't mean to shut you out, Theodore. I just... I was scared. I did what I thought was right.” His eyes flashed with bitterness, a hint of envy flickering beneath the hurt. "What's right for you, you mean. To have the freedom to pick a side, to make choices while I'm left in the dark, forced to follow blindly." You winced as his words cut into you, the bitterness in his tone exposing his hurt and resentment. "I never wanted to leave you in the dark, Theodore. I was being selfish.” His face hardened. “Yeah, you were. It’s fine for you, no consequences for your choice. Must be nice.” Theodore's words settled around you. “Please, Theodore," you pleaded, touching his hand. "I never meant to hurt you this way. I was scared and did what I thought would keep me safe.” He shook his head and turned his back on you. “I would have kept you safe, you know that.” He walked away, footsteps fading.

Blaise Zabini

In a quiet corner of the castle, you were leaving the Room of Requirement after a meeting. Blaise stumbled upon you, he raised his eyebrows. His dark eyes were clouded with disbelief as he faced you. “You?" he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "You're... a part of this?" You swallowed hard, sensing the hurt and betrayal emanating from him. "Yes. Blaise, please, let me explain..." He shook his head. “I don’t understand…” You took a sharp inhale. "I didn't mean to keep secrets from you, Blaise. I wanted to be able to protect myself.” His eyes scanned your face. “I could have helped you with that. Anything.” He looked down in anguish. “Did you have that little faith in me?” His forehead creased as he looked at you. It broke your heart, seeing him question himself in such a way. “No, Blaise. I trust you implicitly. You know that! I didn’t want to have to depend on you to keep me alive.” You explained, clasping your hands together. “I would have done anything to keep you safe, to have you with me. I suppose it means nothing?” He said, looking you up and down, his warmth hidden by a cloud of disgust. “Have fun with Potter. I’ll be fine without you.” He said quietly, his voice laced with venom. You grabbed his hand, desperate to make him listen. He shook your hand off him, a cold stillness in his face as he walked away. “I want nothing to do with you, and I’m sure your mother will have the same attitude when she finds out.”

Lorenzo Berkshire

As you exited the hidden meeting room, adrenaline still coursing through your veins from the training, you came face to face with Lorenzo, his face twisted in a mixture of shock and anger. “What are you doing here?" he demanded, his voice dripping with disdain as he eyed you with suspicion. You faltered, caught off guard by his sudden appearance and accusatory tone. "Enzo, I can explain..." He cut you off, his expression hardening with betrayal. "Explain? There's nothing to explain. I trusted you, and this is how you repay me? By joining Dumbledore's Army behind my back?" You felt the guilt run down your spine. “It’s not what you think, Enzo. Please.” His eyes blazed with fury as he shook his head. "Not what I think? You're consorting with traitors, going against everything we believe in. You've betrayed me, betrayed us all." Sometimes you could really tell he had the Lestrange loyalty in him. “I didn't mean to betray you, Lorenzo. I just... I thought I was doing what was right." His laughter was bitter, filled with scorn. "Right? You thought you were doing what was right. Fighting against our own kind, against our families? How is that right? Your father would be turning in his grave if he knew how much of a disappointment you have become.” You winced at the harshness of the accusation in his tone, feeling his words slice into you. “I-“ You started. Enzo shook his head and looked you up and down with disgust before turning and walking away with haste. “I don't want to hear your excuses. You'll get what you deserve."

[raayllum]

AU where Rayla is just a split second faster aboard the Sea Legs

She's not quick enough to dodge the icy wave that overtakes her limbs, exactly. She feels it in her fingertips, first, like the frostbite that had nearly overtaken her near the Shivering Glades her first year on her own, before she'd had Stella to help her conserve body heat. The cold creeps down to her neck, her torso, each vein burning in agony, fear and confusion running wild in her mind. It hurts more than anything else ever has, like her whole body rather than just her hand was about to fall apart on the other end of a binding, intensified in her heart most of all—

But Rayla doesn't have to be at her best to aim true.

The first halberd she'd stolen sinks into Finnegrin's shoulder, cleaving his arm from his body in one fell swoop. The second lands somewhere above his thigh and he sinks to his knee, howling. Blood spurts from his severed arm and Callum leaps back from it, wide eyed.

"You little—" Finnegrin hisses, spasming from pain. She's never seen so much hate in his eyes before.

His crew—disloyal, afraid—shuffle uneasily but none rush to help him. Even Elmer seems too stunned, frozen like a rock rather than the hunk of wood that he is.

Finnegrin's spell inches down to her waist, and then... Miraculously, it recedes, his concentration broken. His body too weak to maintain it.

Rayla coughs, sputtering, and drops to her knees. Everything aches, and she'll hit the deck hard, but—Callum rushes forward, sliding on his knees and catching her instead. Cushioning her fall as he meets her eyes, his own concerned and angry and frightened and so, so beautiful.

"Are you okay?" he breathes and she nods.

He helps her to her feet, a shoddy mirror image of her helping him up on the Ruthless just two days prior, and she's grateful to see that Soren has turned Ezran away, as Finnegrin bleeds out on the deck.

She nudges Callum away and limps over, glaring at the man who'd dared to attack them, who'd dared to torture her love and try to coerce him into dark magic, even as her stomach squelched. This was a horrible, slow way to die and—

She could be merciful without hesitation, as she wrenched the second halberd from his kneecap and dropped it over his throat instead, silencing him. The other halberd lay in the ever growing pool of blood as she stepped back and exhaled, her breath like a ghost in the stormy mist.

His spirit would not be missed.

And there were worse things to have her first kill over, hollow as she felt.

[rd0265667]

Minji x Reader: The Chance

TW!: Abuse

You were sitting on the couch at the dorm with your sister, Haerin as the two of you watched "Brooklyn 99" on Netflix. "Y/N!" You jumped in your seat a little, Haerin looking at you in confusion over your reaction. "Coming Minji!" You shouted back, a slight shake in your voice as Haerin's eyebrow furrowed. Was that fear she heard, lingering on your tone?

Shooting Haerin an apologetic smile, you grabbed the remote, pausing the episode before running to the room. "Hey Minji, Wha-" You could barely finish your sentence before your hand bolted up to your face, catching your phone mid air "Nice reflexes Cheater." Minji said mockingly, as you were still stuck in shock. What the fuck just happened? "What are you talking about Min?" You quickly spoke up, as Minji scoffed at your reaction, rolling her eyes. "You know what I mean cheater. I read your texts with Eunchae." She said, an icy tone on her voice as you sighed. You moved to Minji's side, gently trying to grab her hand, but she kept pulling her hand away. You hung your head in defeat, sadly this was a Minji you had grown accustomed to. "Minji-ah, please, Eunchae and I are just friends. Please trust me." You lightly tugged at her sleeve, as her eyes slowly turned to you, softening a little. "I just don't like it..." She slowly muttered, as she pulled you towards her, holding you close.

Truth is, Minji was always like this. When you met Minji, she was broken, fresh off a relationship one would be unlikely to categorise as healthy. The wounds of her old relationship always caused Minji to be more, needy, you would say. Her last partner would never text first, Minji would always have to put in the effort. So now, she dislikes texting first, saying that if you loved her, you'd text first. Her last partner cheated on her, so now she insisted on having your phone's password, checking your chats and socials. You always saw it as a sort of defence mechanism, Minji's heart was broken, so she made herself less attached to a romantic relationship. That, coupled with her always using her past relationships as an excuse, made it such that you were always on the back foot, always apologising. She could have not texted you for a day, or left you on read for hours, but the moment you guys argued, she'd hit you with a "I guess you don't love me anymore, let's just break up",  or talk about how hard things were for her because of her old relationship, and that alone made you just break down, wanting at all cost to repair the relationship. After all, you loved Minji, and she'd get better. Right?

"I'm heading out now Minji!" You shouted out, grabbing your bag and heading to the door to see an unhappy Minji, leaning on the door frame. "Where are you going?" She questioned, looking you up and down "To Le Sserafim's dorm? I thought I told you about this awhile ago, Eunchae asked me to grab dinner with her and her Unnies. What's wrong?" You nervously gripped the handle of your bag, looking at her as she scoffed. "Eunchae again. Whatever." She narrowed her eyes, glaring at you before walking away, slamming her room door behind her, the lock clicking moments later. Your shoulders dropped, not sure what to do at the moment, eyes switching between the door, and Minji's room. With a sigh, you slowly opened the door, heading towards Le Sserafim's dorm. You had rescheduled this dinner 8 times because of Minji already, you just wanted to spend some time with the Le Sserafim Unnies.

Later, near midnight, You slowly opened the door to the NewJeans dorm, careful not to cause any loud creaking sounds and disturb anyone. As you walked through the dark living room, a light suddenly popped on, Minji sitting on the couch with her legs crossed, face stormy as she stared at you. This is gonna be fun... "How was dinner with Eunchae? You must have really enjoyed it considering you're coming home so late huh?" She said mockingly, getting up from her seat and inching towards you menacingly. "Please Minji...Like I told you, I was having dinner with the Le Sserafim Unnies. You can ask Yunjin-Unnie, I just went there, had dinner and talked. We just lost track of time." You tried to explain, as you slowly backed away from her, her figure only illuminated by the light at her back made her look terrifying. "Don't lie to me." She growled through gritted teeth, as you continued backing up, finally colliding with the door. "Why are you even back here anyways? Just go stay the night with your beloved Eunchae!" You tried to lift your bag up, as if that was going to stop Minji from coming uncomfortably close. Seeing your actions, she scoffed, hitting your bag away and to the ground, grabbing you by the hair and pulling you toward her "You love Eunchae more than me right? Just go find her then!" She roughly dragged you to the ground, shoving you to the ground as you landed harshly, head crashing into the door, tears slowly trickling from your face.  Seeing your tears cascade down your face, Minji seemingly snapped to her senses, moving towards you, a look of guilt flashing across her face as she saw you flinch at her movement. "Get away!" You heard a yell from the rooms, the two of you turning to see the other 4 NewJeans members looking on in horror, three of them looking in shock at Haerin. They had never heard Haerin so loud before, or seen such rage in her before. Haerin stormed at Minji, getting right up into Minji's face, who shrunk in Haerin's presence, guilty at what she had just done to you. "Touch her again, harm her again, and I promise you, I will make sure you see the inside of a jail cell." Haerin's expression softened as she turned to you, quickly helping you up as the two of you left the dorm. "How could you?" Danielle could barely whisper, a look of anger painted on her face as she looked at Minji, disappointment evident.

"Are you okay?" Haerin asked, applying ointment on your forehead as you sat there, still stunned. How could she do this to you? You knew Minji was always a Jealous person, that just showed that she cared for you, albeit too much, you always thought. But to go this far? To harm you? Was this really the girl you fell in love with? You were exhausted, physically and mentally, as you lightly tapped Haerin on the shoulder, leaning on her shoulder.

You took a deep breath as you slowly opened the door, locking eyes with the distraught girl sitting at the table "Y/N" She could barely croak out, as you clenched your fist "Minji" You could only monotonously reply, knowing a hint of emotion would break you Minji nervously fidgeted in her seat as you took yours, her hands fiddling with an imaginary toy, slowly mustering the courage to look you in the eye "Are you okay?" Minji asked, as you scoffed at the question "What do you think?" You spat, a hint of venom, Minji flinching at the harsh tone "What did you call me over for anyways?" You rolled your eyes in annoyance, Minji still stunned in her seat. She had never seen you this angry before. "I wanted to apologise, Y/N. I'm sorry for being so Jealous, I know you and Eunchae are just friends, but it's just, with my past re-" "Enough!" You slammed the table in frustration. "Enough with your past relationships! Why is it that I have to shoulder the sins of your exes! Why is it that everything that happens is my fault! Why am I apologising for things I didn't do! Why!" You screamed, tears falling uncontrollably from your face, your pent up anger and frustration overflowing and exploding, before you fell to your seat. As you sobbed into your hands, you felt a gentle hand on your shoulder, looking up to see Minji on one knee, in front of your chair as she looked both sad and guilty. "I'm sorry my love. Could we take a break?" Minji muttered, as you slowly calmed down, while still confused at what she meant "I know I'm flawed, Y/N, and I know that I haven't been the best Girlfriend to you. As much as I want to be with you forever, I don't want to be with you if it means I'm going to harm you. I promise that I'll grow and learn from what I've done wrong so far, be a good girlfriend to you. Will you wait for me?" Minji asked, tears streaming down her face, a sincere and genuine look on her face. Looking at Minji now, you saw her again. Not the jealous, bitter, angry person you were in a relationship with all this time, but the Minji you fell in love with, the kind and gentle soul. You slowly nodded, as Minji smiled in response "How will I know when you're ready?" You whispered "You'll know, my love." Minji lightly caressed your face, before walking from the room, sad but hopeful

A year later

You stretched as you slowly walked towards your door, planning to go to the supermarket, but as you walked out of your door, you noticed something at your shoerack. A white dahlia, your favourite, with a small ribbon tied on it's stem. Picking it up, you smiled, looking around before you spotted her, her face semi-obscured by a tree as she looked at you. Walking over to the tree, the two of you looked at each other, the silence doing all the talking as you both smiled.

"Hello, my love."

[vilavi-2]

Day 2: LoA Damian x Hero Raven

Damiraeweek 2023 @damirae-week

I'm working on a continuation of my Nanda Parbat story from Chap 23 of Feather Collection. I've still got a lot to get through, but here's a sneak peek! (sorry it's a lil rough)

-

It’s the middle of Raven’s second winter in Nanda Parbat, just as fiercely cold and cruel as the first. With the Himalayas locked in an icy grip, most stewards and soldiers have been reassigned to warmer, more productive posts. Only a token force of loyal elites remains at the compound to keep the elemental damage at bay and protect it from anyone foolish enough to brave the snowed-in passes, icy climbs, and whiteout stormy skies. And should all those defenses fail, it would only bring them face-to-face with Ra’s and Qalb al Ghul, ready to defend their seat of power.

It’s the best winter of his life, Damian decides, pale green eyes locked implacably on hers. Raven narrows her own back at him before dropping them to the fan of playing cards in her hands. She bites her lower lip thoughtfully, and he can feel the slight tap of her foot next to his thigh. She has so many tells, it’s hard to pick his favorite. Still, he doesn’t let his gaze wander to appreciate the bare legs on either side of him, or the flash of Raven’s chest and collar through the loosened pankou knots of her blouse. He instead sits cross legged in front of her with deliberate stillness until she plucks two cards from her hand and lays them face down on the mattress. 

“Two,” she says with casual confidence. Damian deals them to her obligingly, smirking at the victorious glint in her eyes when she studies her new hand. It’s not that Raven is a bad liar, or easy to read. It’s that it never even occurs to her to hide from him anymore. As it should be, beloved. Damian looks at his own cards, and exchanges three of them, face devoid of expression as he returns to scrutinizing her.

“Well?”

“I’m in,” Raven replies in that same confident tone. “Robe.”

His lips tick up slightly and Raven betrays a slight hesitation, instantly looking back at her cards as if to make sure she saw them right. 

“Call. Shirt.” He motions to her to show her hand and she bites her lip again before slowly turning them around. A flush of diamonds. Damian gives an approving nod. “That’s good,” he tells her. But judging from her light frown and the accusation in her violaceous eyes, she knows she’s beat. He shows her his hand, finally allowing himself a victorious smirk. Full House. “But not good enough.”

Raven’s glaring — pouting, really — but she still undoes the knots down her front and lets him push the garment off her shoulders. Only four rounds in and she’s down to her bra and underwear. Damian hasn’t even gotten his robe off yet.

"How did I let you talk me into this?" she grumbles, hugging her chest and rubbing her arms. A hearth and several well-fed braziers keep the worst of the cold out, but her skin is still breaking out in gooseflesh, disrobed as she is. Raven’s practically sitting in his lap already, so it’s easy to pull her the rest of the way, settling her against his chest and curling both arms hard around her. She burrows into him, as she always does. 

“I have no idea why you agreed,” Damian answers, smiling to himself. “You have no aptitude for games, ya amar.” She grumbles an incoherent, indignant sound. He drops a kiss on her bare shoulder. 

Nanda Parbat is on winter rations. Rice and millet, salted meat, pickled vegetables. None of her precious teas or anything resembling a delicacy has been able to get through in months. There’s a few cases of amber wine held in reserve to help prevent anyone up here from getting too bored or stir crazy. Not anyone’s idea of a good time.

Except that Raven's here, with him, and unlike last winter when they were still bound in secrecy Damian doesn't have to worry about a future where she might not be. Her crown hangs on one of their bedposts, glinting in affirmation of that fact.

Definitely the best winter of my life, he thinks.

[frekydeki]

Birds of a Feather | Pt. 2

A/n | at this point I shouldn't even be surprised with myself for taking so long to get this second part done. For some reason I struggled so hard getting from point a to point b.

Pairing | (ex)Midoriya x Reader | Bakugo x Reader

Warnings | Lots of cursing.

Summary | In which Midoriya is the love of your life, but you’re not his. In this, you navigate the stormy waters of heartbreak, and at the eye of the storm, you find Bakugo… But you know what they say: birds of a feather flock together.

Masterlist

| Part 1 |✨Part 2 ✨| Part 3: In progress

            You’re running. There’s something biting at your heels; cold, looming, crushing. Your legs ache, and each step you take feels like you're wading through rushing water. A straight hallway with ugly grey wallpaper and water staining stretches out endlessly before you. Uneven floorboards that creak with each step and groan with the swaying walls. Old wooden doors are evenly spaced along the walls. You tried a few but found them all locked. The feeling of the icy water against your legs is rising higher, almost to your waist; yet there’s no water in sight.

            God, you want to scream, but you can hardly bring in enough air to keep yourself upright. Pressure in your chest and tears clouding your eyes, you struggle to keep your footing against the swaying floorboards. There’s a pinch in your ankle, and suddenly you’re blinking at the deep grooves in the floorboards. What are you running from?

            Doesn’t matter. You need to go. You try and push yourself up, legs scrambling to right yourself. Your body goes stiff as you’re consumed by a biting coldness, and slammed against the ground.

            You can’t breathe. A single gasp for air, and you can feel your lungs filling with that same iciness. You’ve felt this before. Pulled under the waves at the beach on a family vacation; this horror, the burn… It’s the same. You’re drowning in the middle of a hallway with no water in sight.

Your fingers scratch against the floorboards, and you strain to look up, your gaze becoming fuzzy. Surrounded by light, you see a black figure… A person? Someone, running to you. Your mouth snaps shut. If you could just get the words out, maybe they’ll be able to save you…

            Save you from what?

            Your vision grows fuzzy, then dark, and your head falls with a harsh thunk on the floor.

            You grunt as your fingers run over the cool wood floor. You feel the soft touch of a fuzzy rug and crack your eyes open as the sound of a door creaking open reaches your ears. The white ceiling above you has squares of pink and orange light cast across it from the window, and your sight is blocked by a familiar face craning over you.

            “You okay?” You blink at him, ruby eyes steadily keeping your own confused gaze. “Did you hit your head?” He kneels down and waves his hand over your face, “Anyone home in there?” Swatting his hand away, you push yourself up and cradle your head as it begins throbbing.

            “What the hell are you doing here?”

            “What do you mean?” He scoffs and then offers a cup of water; it’s in your favorite mug, one of the two that were hanging next to the coffee machine. There’s only one hanging there now. You turn your eyes away and mumble no thanks. “You invited me to stay, dumbass.” Turning your eyes over the room, the suffocating memory of crying yourself to sleep – strangling your sobs with your pillow so Bakugo could sleep properly – rushes back to you. You can only manage to hum back to him in response. You play with the sleeve of your shirt before mumbling the first thing that came to your mind to direct his attention from your dulling gaze.

            “Did you sleep okay?”

            “Once you finally shut up, yeah.”

            “I thought you were already asleep!” You squeak. “You were snoring when I left.”

            “Just cause I was snoring doesn’t mean I wouldn’t wake back up to you wailing in here…” Shoving the cup of water in your hand, he moves himself to the doorway and gazes down at you. “How’re you feeling?” Your nose scrunches and your eyes narrow.

            “Who are you?” He frowns at you.

            “Don’t.” The word comes out softly as he crosses his arms.

            “What have you done with Bakugo?”

            “Y/n, don’t.” His mouth lifts a little and the corners of his lips bury in his cheek. His eyes soften and almost take on a warm glimmer. “Let’s be adults for like ten seconds; are you okay?”

            “I’m okay.” You quietly say, tapping your fingers against the glass and staring at the ripples. “You?” It’s quiet.

            “I’m hungry.”

            “How?” Your stomach rolls and you swallow thickly.

            “I didn’t get shit faced. Get dressed. Let’s go to the store, I’ll make breakfast.”

            “Why do I have to go?” You whine.

            “Cause I’m wearing fuckin’ Garfield pajama pants!” He gestures to his pants; you hadn’t noticed. You blink and then scoff.

            “You went to the bar in them last night! What’s so different now?” You quip back. He grunts and turns on his heel, shoves his hands into his pockets, and stiffly walks down the hallway mumbling profanities under his breath.

            Heaving out a sigh, you pull on a sweatshirt over your t-shirt, and straighten out your sweatpants. You couldn’t let him go alone, especially if the only thing he escaped last night with was a pair of pajama pants… Can’t he just starve like everyone else who’s going through a hard breakup? You don’t even feel like being awake, let alone going to the damn grocery.

            “I’ll go.” He finishes tying his shoes and grabs his keys before meeting your eye.

            “Thanks.”

            You leave the house with a small piece of paper scribbled with Bakugo’s sharp writing tight in your hand; the list is small… It’s easy enough.

            Hand closing on the carton of eggs, you cast your eye to the two women on your left. You examine the eggs in your hand for cracks, but also consider the sneer placed on that ladies lips, amplified by the bubblegum pink lipstick painted on them. Usually, you don’t mind what other people have to say about you, but you expect them to not make it obvious they’re gawking at you… These ladies are definitely not considering the assortment of cheeses displayed in front of them. One with curly, short brown hair and deep lines under her eyes looks you up and down while her friend scrolls on her phone and casts piercing glances at you. You meet their eyes evenly before you take notice of the man across you shooting daggers. Heat spreads through your gut. You try and iron out your expression but bite the inside of your cheek.

Do you have something on your face? You lightly run your fingers over the corners of your mouth, push your hair from your face, and pat it down. It leaves your stomach a little heavier than before, and you’re grateful that you only have one thing left on the list. Some people don’t look at you while you pick out bread, but a young couple down the aisle point and whisper. You can’t make out anything they’re saying. You start toward them, set to keep moving past them, but then you meet their eye, and the words are suddenly pouring from your mouth:

“It’s so sad to see adults acting like children.” You look to the keys clenched in her hand, adorned with a keychain that says ‘#MomLife’; it actually makes your eye twitch. “I’m nervous for your kids.” You march away to the check-out.

            You’re not sure why so many people in the store shot you looks like you were their high school best friend that stabbed them in the back, but you’re grateful that the clerk didn’t. All you have to do is pay and then you're out of here; no more weird glances, no more grannies mumbling to their son in the checkout lane about you. Your chest tightens and throat constricts. You can’t make out all of the words, but as you collect your bags, you hear her whisper:

            “They’re dispicable.”

            You flinch at the words and hurry from the store. What does she mean? Why would she say that? How the hell does she even know you? You grab for the car door and smack your lips when you find it locked. Bakugo spares you a glance from his phone and unlocks the door.

            “Got it all?” He asks as he looks back to his phone, finishing a very long text with his lips pulled down into a thin frown. You nod, run your hands over your sweats, and turn your gaze back to the grocery store doors, flooded with people going in and out. You think of every eye that was on you, and wonder what would happen if you walked back in. Would they all stare at you like that again? Maybe you have something on your clothes? You pat yourself down, but – aside from a badly coordinated outfit – nothing is amiss. You flip down the mirror to double check your face for awkwardly placed drool.

            Just paled skin and your sad eyes staring back. You freeze up as your stomach rolls. Sucking in a deep breath, you push the mirror back up and turn your eyes away again. Bakugo watches you with pinched brows.

            “What’s wrong with you?”

            “Nothing.” You answer, running your hands over your pants again.

            “I don’t like liars.”

            “Who does?” You scoff back, keeping your eyes on anything except his eyes that you feel drilling into you from the driver’s seat. Of all the things you find wonderful about Bakugo, his intense gaze has never been it. It’s like he has laser vision, peering right into you to read your mind like a children’s book.

            “So don’t lie to me.”

            “’Kay.” He doesn’t move to start driving. “What does it matter?” You snap, sending him a glare, but it quickly fizzles out as you meet his eye. Your eyes fall to your hands. “Can we go home?”

            “Fine.” Bakugo grumbles at you under his breath for a minute. Your eyes flutter shut, and you rub your eyes.

            “Did he message you?” He asks through the silence that's fallen between the two of you.

            “No.”

            “Look, can ya just tell me?”

            “When you go out in public, do people look at you like you’re less than shit?”

            “What? No! Did-“ Bakugo glances between you and the road, “Did someone do something to you in the store?”

            “Nothing happened-“

            “You can’t say nothing happened! Look at you! What the fuck happened?”

            “Nothing, Bakugo. Everyone in there… They were just giving me weird looks.” You shake your head. “Maybe I was being crazy.” But that doesn’t explain the whispering. “When I was in line… The women behind me was whispering with her son and said ‘They’re dispicable’. And she was looking directly at me… Could I have heard them wrong? I don’t even know who they are!” He’s silent for a beat.

            “What a bitch!” He blurts randomly. “Who just fuckin says that about someone they don’t know?” His hands grip the steering wheel tightly and he speeds up.

            “Is my outfit that bad?” You wonder with a dry chuckle.

            “No worse than mine.” His gray pajama pants with Garfield eating lasagna and a plain red t-shirt puts a small smile on your lips.

            “I can understand why she said it if that’s the case.”

            The rest of your drive passes in silence. He stops his car near the building instead of parking; you send him a confused look.

            “Whatcha doin?”

            “Dropping you off. I have to make a phone call really quick. Head on in and clean yourself up. I’ll be up in a few.” You watch him and nod. Taking up the few bags of groceries, you wave him off. When did he get so nice? Maybe he’s always been this nice, just not to you. He must've bagged it all up and gave it to Uraraka this whole time.

            What a waste. It puts a bad taste in your mouth, so you swallow it and put the groceries away. You’re a little grateful for the silence in your apartment – even if it’s short lived – and decide a hot shower should put you right. You grab your comfiest clothes and head to the bathroom. You avoid looking at the mirror, light a candle, and flick the light off; the stupid vent turns on with the light, and you don’t feel like hearing all of that right now. You want a nice, hot, quiet shower.

            You stand in the shower, still as a statue, watching your skin become irritated under the water. Emotions pile up on you like dirt and sweat, and you’ve not given much thought to how disgusting you’ve felt. The feeling of the water stream pelting on the back of your head, almost blocking every sound from the outside world, lulls you into a mindless state. You forget yourself as you stand swaying in the shower with shut eyes. Before you know it, it’s been ten minutes and the front door of your apartment is slamming shut. You almost felt the floor shake from how hard the door was slammed, and it makes your stomach tumble right back down into hell.

            You scrub up quickly, dry and dress, then head out to the kitchen to see what the deal is. Bakugo is fast at work. His broad shoulders are visibly tense, and the longer you watch him, the more you notice how stiffly he’s moving, how hard he’s slamming the knife down onto the cutting board, and his uneven, heavy breaths.

            “You okay?” You’re tired of hearing that sentence; it’s been less than twenty-four hours, but you’ve heard it enough. Bakugo’s hands slow before he continues working away, switching between checking the food cooking on the stove and dicing vegetables. At his silence, you shrug and brew some coffee. “I feel better after the shower. You should take one, I’ll clean up after we eat.” He grunts back at you. “I have some big shirts I can let you borrow… I might be able to find a pair of sweats that’ll fit you somewhere…” You fill the silence with idle chatter, pouring yourself a cup of coffee, and offer to pour him some.

            “More of a juice guy.”

            “Interesting.” You say. You snatch up the orange juice and pour him a glass.

            “What is that supposed to mean?” Your chest lightens as he seems to come back into himself a little bit, and you shrug.

            “Dunno… Figured you for a bitter drink man. You know, macho man, no one can see you eating anything sweet.” You set the table as he lays out the collection of small dishes he’s put together. “It’s amazing that you managed to put this together from the random assortment of shit in my fridge.”

            “Yeah, just don’t go telling everybody I made ya breakfast.”

            “Why not?”

            “Doesn’t fit the image.”

            “And drinking juice does?” He sits in the seat across from you with a hard look but a lift in his lip. “Anyways, what’s image got to do with being able to cook? Is it a bad thing that you can put together a great meal? Does it make you less of a man? Less of a hero?”

            “No.” He curtly responds. “I just don’t want the entire world to know me.”

            “Well, that doesn’t make much sense considering your life’s dream.”

            “Being number one hero is… Not being a celebrity with tabloid articles being written about every little fucking thing that I do. The littlest shit is fucking gold to those leeches. An accountant goes out to get drinks with his buddies, he just went out to get drinks with his buddies… But me? I go out to get drinks with my buddies and then suddenly I’m a fucking drunk, an alcoholic who went out on a rager and pissed on some grannies lawn ornaments.” You watch him somehow eat his food angrily. Blinking at him, you sit your utensils down, and try to meet his eye.

            “Bakugo… What is it?” He stops when you finally catch his eye. “Something is bothering you. You can tell me.” Bakugo tears his ruby eyes away, blinking quickly.

            “When you said that people were giving you weird looks in the store… Saying shit like that… I thought, there’s no reason anyone would know who you are.” He pauses, then adds, “No offense.”

            “None taken. It’s true.” People – as far as they know – know you’re in a relationship with Midoriya, but you’ve never been one to attend the galas or walking the carpet; the events scared you. Paparazzi never paid you much mind.

            “Midoriya tried to keep you from that. So… I had my secretary do a little digging…” Your heart flips in your chest like a fish out of water; you know where this is going, but you’re hoping to whatever god is listening that you’re wrong. Maybe, by some dumb luck, that you’re completely wrong. Bakugo unlocks his phone and drops it on the table, spinning it toward you. Pointing at the screen, he continues, “Published last night. The prick must've been up all night drooling over his laptop.”       

            “Dynamite enjoys late night fling?” The words almost taste like poison in your mouth. It’s a weak article of four, single sentence paragraphs accompanied by one dark and grainy photo. But anyone who knew Bakugo could recognize the spikey blond hair. Anyone who knows you would see your drunken face or recognize your apartment building. Your breath shutters from you, and you swallow. “Bakugo.” His name is the only thing you can squeeze out. This is bad. This is really bad.

            Not just for you, but for him. Especially for him. He has an image to maintain, but if the world thinks he’s the type of man to have a fling with his best friend’s partner… He could lose everything. His lips somehow pull themselves farther down, and his brows fall slack.

            “Bakugo, this… This…” He nods slowly.

            “I know.”

            “This is bad.” Now everyone is going to think you cheated. That it’s your fault things are like this. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” Tears bubble into your eyes - what can you say, you're a crybaby for the week - while you try and force out a coherent sentence. The more you try, though, the more muddied your words become. Your heart clenches in your chest, “That’s not true. What do we do?” You heave in a breath, trying to keep your eyes on Bakugo’s worrying expression, but you look back to the photo, “It’s published on Super Gossip.”

            Bakugo nods, “Yeah, we’re trying to find who took the picture.”

            “It’s midafternoon, Bakugo.” Your lip quivers, “Half the fucking world has seen this already.” You watch his eyes shut as he lets out a heavy breath, and he worries his lip with his teeth.

            “I know.” He sighs and roughly rubs his hand over his face, “Best we can do is damage control.” Super Gossip is only the most useless, brain-dead, flaming piece of crap hero gossip magazine in the world. A lot of people read this magazine like the damn bible. You know for a fact that Midoriya has seen this article. Which means he knows that Bakugo went home with you last night. What does he think you did last night? Is he thinking what everyone else is? That you had a late-night fling with him just to get back at Midoriya? Where does Uraraka stand on this?

            Your insides are on fire, and somehow, you feel small. You want to cover up all your windows and check outside for some creep camped among the bushes; you didn’t even see anyone in the parking lot when you both got home last night… Violated. You feel violated. Your arms wrap around your quaking body, and you glance to the open kitchen window.

            How long were they camped outside of your apartment? Waiting and watching your window for the slightest movement? You heave in a breath and snap your gaze over to Bakugo; you're grateful that at least you had Dynamite sleeping on your couch, it gives you some sort of comfort.

            “What do we do?” You repeat. “My reputation doesn’t matter much, I’m just a florist and no one really knows my name unless they dig. But you-“

            “They’ll dig.” Bakugo is watching you carefully. A look in his eye, just below his furrowed brow, that tells you he doesn’t want to scare you, but he can’t lie. “They will dig up things you don’t want them to know, and before you know it, you’ll be on the front pages until we make it clear what’s going on.”

            “Oh, yeah. Easy enough.” You push your food away; your appetite slunk out the door as soon as you read the article. “I’ll just let them know that the number one hero who I’ve spent four years worshipping the ground he walked on left me for the girl he had a crush on in high school – who happened to be your fiancé – and in my drunk rantings I asked you to stay with me. It’s all just one big misunderstanding… Yeah, let’s just throw this pile of steaming shit on Uraraka and Midoriya’s reputation.” You spit out in a panic. If you just went out there and told the media the truth the fingers would start pointing at Midoriya. That’s if they even believe you – a nobody who grows flowers for a living – over their golden boy Deku.

            “It’s the truth.” Bakugo reasons. “I’m not gonna just let these little ants sit there and spread lies like this.”

            “They’ll eat Midoriya alive.”

“What do you care?” He snaps at you, stands from his place at the table, and snatches his phone up. “That asshole is the reason we’re all here.”             “Uraraka had a hand in it too, Bakugo. They’ll dig into her too.” Your voice is low as you stand from your seat and put yourself in the doorway of the kitchen; he’s started to clean up the barely touched breakfast.

            “And they’ll get what they deserve. They did this. I’m not just gonna sit around and let my career suffer for them.” You open your mouth to reason, “If they cared about their reputation, they wouldn’t have gone behind our backs like that.”

            “So, what? You’re gonna call the author up and ask him to coffee?” Bakugo stares at you blankly before nodding.

            “Yeah. I am.” You stand in silence, watching Bakugo until you near him and start to help pack the leftovers away.

            “Super Gossip will take everything you say and twist it into something you never said. Maybe you should talk to your manager first?” He shakes his head while putting the last of the food in the fridge. He takes up his phone.

            “No. I’m telling this asshole he’s an idiot and he’s pointing his finger at the wrong people.” His gaze is sharp as he stares at you – you know that anger is not for you, but it makes your heart flip to see it in his eyes – before he begins dialing a phone number.

            “Okay, okay… Look, maybe we need to call Midoriya and Uraraka before we do this?” You reason, pulling his phone from his ear.

            “You’re asking me to ask him for permission?” Under his suffocating crimson gaze, you feel your shoulders sag, just a little bit, but you keep your eyes locked on his. “To tell the truth?”

            “Not permission, Bakugo. Just because Midoriya acted like a piece of shit, doesn’t mean we should too.”

            “How is this,” He sends a glance to his ringing phone, “shitty?” His eyes narrow at you.

“If we’re going to the press, we need to consider what we say and do. We don’t need to ruin their reputation like this.”

“Ruining their reputation is shitty? Y/n, you’re kidding me!” He rounds the table to near you, bending slightly to match your height, “You have to be kidding me! They cheated. They fucking cheated on us and now we have a gossip article written about us?” His raised voice falls, “You think we’re the shitty ones?” You tap the screen to end the call.

“We’re not shitty. But what will pointing our fingers back do?” He shakes his head and continues.

“This is not shitty.” He waves the phone between the two of you. “You know what is shitty, Y/n? Sleeping with your best friends fiancé.” His voice begins raising, “Showing up to my house in the middle of the night with a few boxes and crying ‘Oh, Y/n left me. Let me stay best friend,’ is shitty. Smiling in my face, eating at my table, sleeping in one of my beds, and then fucking my fiancé while I’m trying to sleep?” His eyes have become irritated with tears, and they bunch up on his bottom lid. You’ve drawn back, gawking at him with your mouth opening and closing. "That's shitty, Y/n. Not this. Not me."

“Is that how you found out, Bakugo?” You whisper. His chest is rising and falling with heavy, frantic breaths, and you can see his hands shaking as he tries to keep control of himself.

“I wanted a glass of water.” His voice was so quiet compared to what it just was. A bitter smile pushes over his lips as he turns away from you and walks into the dark living room. “It’s all just a fucking joke.” Bakugo throws his phone onto the coffee table and his hands find purchase in his sandy blond locks. “It’s just a sick joke, Y/n.” You swallow, your lips quivering and stomach twisting. You saw Bakugo like this last night, and you don’t find it any easier to see now. With a deep breath, you sit on the opposite side of the couch.

You’d like to comfort Bakugo, but you're reeling in a storm of new emotions and thoughts you didn’t have last night. Finding out how Bakugo discovered all of this out; he probably didn’t even see it coming. Your heart is caving in for him. Also learning that even though Midoriya swore he was telling you the truth; he was still lying to your face. You’re considering every time that he pulled away from your touch, seemed to be so uncomfortable with even the slightest display of affection. It feels like your chest may burst if you don’t ask Bakugo the question bouncing around your head; how long had their relationship been physical?

“I’m sorry.” Is all you can manage. You’ve not got much in your cup. Hell, your cup is dry as a desert right now.

“So let me make the call.” He pleads, head rolling to look at you. “Look,” Bakugo breaks the silence again, leaning forward with his elbows rested on his knees, “It’s not like I am happy to throw them both under the wheel like this… But I won’t lose my job for this.” His eyes are set, and his lips in a thin line. When this look crosses Bakugo’s eye, you know better than to try and change his mind. You sigh.

            “Even if you do call them, why would they believe you?” He draws back. “Anyone accused of being a cheat would have a story lined up just like this. You do this and it’ll just look like you’re pointing a finger away from you.” He’s quiet, for once. You’re a little surprised. “If we call up Midoriya and Uraraka, explain the situation, and ask them to set things straight, we might be able to settle this issue without any problems.”

            “You think they’re gonna want to admit what they did to the world?” You shrug.

            “I don’t know.” Bakugo rolls his head and rubs the back of his neck. You can tell he’s not too happy with the situation, but you can’t think of a better solution. “But on the off chance that Midoriya will do it, I think we should at least try.”

“Alright, but you call him. And if he refuses the first thing I’m going to do after I kick his ass is call this magazine up and air all of his dirty underwear.” He levels you with a stern look, “All of it.”

“At that point, Bakugo, I wouldn’t stop you.” A ghost of a smile pushes onto your lips. “I’ll get my phone.” It’s great that he is listening to you right now and all… But you never thought that you’d be the one calling those two; it just didn’t cross your mind. It makes your legs heavy as lead as you trudge back to your room. It’s the last thing you want to do. Staring at your phone on your bed like you’re superman and it’s kryptonite, you start to wonder if it really would be so bad to just let Bakugo make that call. Midoriya is the piece of shit that, after taking up five years of your life, fucked the woman that he said was just his friend and lied to you about it twice.  

            You take up your phone and head out to the living room anyways. Your skin has paled, and you give Bakugo a sideways glance; he’s onto you like white on rice.

            “If you don’t want to make that call I can just-“ You raise your hand to him and click your tongue.

            “Ah, ah!” You level him with a strong, yet watery-eyed look, and say, “A good friend wouldn’t tempt an alcoholic with a bottle; don’t give me an out.” He surrenders his hands.

            “Suit yourself. Personally, I’d let those two rot.”

            “I’m not doing this because I care about what happens to them,” That’s a lie and you both know it; Bakugo gives you a flat expression, “It’s because I’m a reasonable adult who wants to handle this so we can all make it out unscathed.” Your voice and fingers are trembling as you type in his phone number. Your throat tightens up when his contact pulls up… You haven’t changed his contact name yet, so it still has that stupid heart and the nickname you gave him long ago; and that stupid picture of him too. It has your lungs burning and tightening for more air.

Are you ready to hear his voice? Your body feels like it’s being torn apart; one end being pulled by excitement, longing to see him and hear him again, and the other being pulled to hell with rage, betrayal, and disgust. What will you even say? What if you stumble over your words? You know you will as soon as you hear him say hello; everything you have scripted out will fly from your head just like it did last night. Your heart is racing, and it feels like there’s syrup running through your veins instead of blood. It hurts. And it won’t stop until you just call him.

            You clench your jaw; you just have to call him.

            “Y/n? You okay?” Bakugo’s voice butts in like he’s calling you from the end of a tunnel. Your eyes are wide and unblinking on the phone screen as you nod and hum back to him. No, you’re not okay… Why are you saying you’re okay? You feel like your about to throw up your heart and the world might break in half.

Midoriya can’t know that though, so you take a few deep breaths and repeat over and over, “I’m okay.” You say it until your voice doesn’t crack, doesn’t waver, and isn’t thick with tears. You dial his number and bring the phone to your ear. Fingers tap your knees as you wait, and you can feel Bakugo’s eyes burning holes into the side of your head. Maybe he won’t answer – the thought makes you feel a little giddy – and you’ll be able to say you tried calling him when he's the one with an article written about him.

“Y/n?” You almost black out when you hear his voice come through the phone. So soft, shaking, like he thinks he could kill you with just one word. You’re sure he could do just that, and it scares you a little. “Hello? Y/n?”

“Yeah... Midoriya…” You’re quiet, and you look down as you begin to play with the hem of the shirt you’re wearing. “Listen… You’ve…” You let out a heavy sigh. “You’ve seen the article?” The line is quiet, and you're left standing on pins and needles waiting for him to respond.

            “We saw it.” You nod; you knew that… God, what must he think of you? Why are you even worried about that? He cheated on you for fucks sake, you shouldn’t care what he thinks of you! Your hands are quaking all the same. “Is it true? That he went home with you?”             “Yeah, he crashed here tonight.” You clear your throat.

            “And did you-“ He stops short, and sighs. You wait for him to finish his sentence, and you know exactly what he’s trying to ask. You clench your jaw and narrow your eyes.

            “Did I what, Midoriya?” Your words are sharp and aggressive. He thinks you’d do that? After five years with you, Midoriya thinks that you’re that shallow…

            “Did you, you know…” It’s like he doesn’t want to say it, so you say it for him with a raised voice.

            “For fucks sake Midoriya grow up and just say what you’re thinking.” You snap. You didn’t know you had it in you to be so harsh to Midoriya, but your sharp tone continues on as you do, “Did I sleep with him? Is that what you want to know, Midoriya? Did I fuck Bakugo to get back at you?”

            “Jesus Y/n I didn’t mean it like that!” His words are wet with emotions.

            “Why would you even need to know? Hmm? What would it have to do with you?”

            “It has to do with me because you’re my ex and he’s my best friend-“

            “Let me be clear, Midoriya, you have no right to ever ask me that again.” Your words are stone cold. You can hear his heavy sigh over the phone.

            “You’re right. I guess it doesn’t matter.” You cast a glance to Bakugo, and he’s simply staring at you with wide eyes, watching you like some tv show that has him on the edge of his seat. “What did you need, then?”

            “The article… What are you and Uraraka going to do about it?”

            “I… I don’t know.”

            “You need to come forward Midoriya. Both you and Uraraka need to come clean with the press. It’s not right that Bakugo gets slandered like this.”

            “I know. I just don’t know what to say so that it doesn’t reflect badly on us.” His voice is high pitched.

            “You should’ve thought of that before you started fucking her.” Your words are dripping venom.

            “We never had sex, Y/n.”

            “Give it up. Bakugo told me everything.” He falls silent again.

            “It would be best if we can meet somewhere so we can talk this out.”

            “Why should Bakugo and I have to do that? This is your problem, so fix it.”

            “Y/n, please! The publicity will be bad for Uraraka-“

            “What about Bakugo? The world thinks that he’s going behind your back with me. They’re making him the bad guy. He doesn’t deserve this. Uraraka should’ve also thought of the repercussion before snaking into your pants.”

            “Come on.” Bakugo hisses. You send him a sharp look.

            “Can we all just meet so we can figure out the best way to handle this?” You burry your lips into your cheeks and look to Bakugo.   

            “He wants to meet… To talk about it.”

            “Why the fuck should we have to do that?” You shrug at the blonde.

            “Not sure. Guess he doesn’t want to admit he cheated.”

            “Y/n…” Midoriya whines through the phone; he must be crying again.

            “We’ll meet you for dinner tonight.” You promptly hang up the phone and let out a heavy breath.

            “What the hell do you mean we will meet them for dinner?” Bakugo throws his hands out, “I’m not going!”

            “Okay, whatever. Hide in the bathroom and cry about it, I have princess bandaids in the medicine cabinet if your ouchies get a little too painful.” You snap at him.

            “It’s got nothing to do with that. I just don’t want to see either of their fucking faces right now.”

            “And I do?” You snap back. “I’m just trying to get this over with.”

            “Alright. Whatever.” Bakugo stands and collects his car keys. You almost ask him where he’s going but realize you don’t really need to know. It’s not like you’re dating or anything. “I’m gonna go get some clothes. I’ll be back in an hour.”

            “’kay.” With the slamming of your front door, you lay down on the couch and close your eyes.

            You wonder, as you drift off to sleep, if maybe you’ll die while you sleep. Then, you wouldn't have to suffer sitting across the table from them.

Previous | Next: In progress...

Taglist: @eijiandkatspebble, @rykerluvsyou, @sagejin, @rinriii

[oursharedmusery]

#Dabixreader | #Hawksxreader

Summary: Hurt, pain love and unsaid words pushed you two apart. But he still used your goodness till you feel empty. He knows he is wrong, so wrong to do this to you.

But will he finally wake up before you fall into someone's else arms?

A/N :

Misery hits me like a bitch. So here is an impromptu angst for all Dabi lovers.

Please do share your views on it too!

No characters belong to me. The rights remain with their rightful creator/ owners.

With love,

Your Musery!

Ps. Not yet proofread.

Stormy winds are expected to blow of Japan for the next 4 days as the cyclone sets to near. Administration advice all citizens to stay inside and only head out in emergency. Yellow and red alerts to 5 major regions including Musutafu, Deika,......

The monotonous voice of the news anchor faded away as your mind went to a certain gentalman that would definitely pay you visit tonight. The storm was brewing fast and he would need shelter, unless he wants to wash away his sins in the icy rain.

Only if it was possible, you thought with pity in heart.

Why did she feel so. For someone who cowardly and dangerously sneaks into her home only after she was asleep in her cool yet cosy bed. To leave early without facing you.

But she need to prepare dinner, that is accidentally more than she could finish, but exactly enough for him to.

Or the way the first aid kit was mindlessly placed on the rack for him to find easily before his eye level.

Or the way will find a towel tonight carelessly left on the chair, exactly when it rains. What coincidence!

"No one asked you to do it. Did I?"

.

"You always push yourself on others to love you, gosh how pethetic"

.

"Perhaps that is why they all left you."

.

"Leave! Stay away from me why do you have to make everything worse."

.

"Look at you, Y/N, all desperate and clingy for love."

The painful memory of your ex-boyfriend shouting at you came flooding in. Your hands stop as you scooped out an extra bowl of rice. It's for him and it will end the same way. It has always been this way.

Your care taken for your weakness.

Your love taken for granted.

Your actions taken advantage of.

You tightly gritted your jaw. You are hopeless and you want to change it. Need to change it. Desperately.

.

.

.

.

.

But not tonight. The cyclone is on its way.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Dabi stopped midway.

A shrap sting rests on his hand from the previous accident. Blood ran down from his right bicep to his fingers mixed with raindrops.

"4 days huh" his mind carelessly wondered. He can't help it, it's the cyclone after all.

Running his hand through his wet hair, he feels his heartbeat rise. Maybe call a day off and stay there for the weekend as well. A small smirke came upon his lips at his wild, oh so wild dream as he walked back to home. Your Home.

The lights were off when he finally made his way into your small apartment through the unlocked balcony.

"Gosh how is she even alive. Leaving it open for the storm to come in. Such a careless doll."

Had he told Toga or Twice he had this place to crash in, a place that once warmly welcomed him without wanting anything in return they would laughed hard. Heck, Shigaraki would think he is on drugs.

The thought left a bitter taste in his mouth. Was he so monstrous to be accepted?! What was so difficult to believe that he could be wanted, welcomed, embraced!

Engulfed in his thoughts, he mindlessly dried himself with the towel left on the chair and sat to eat.

"She didn't eat!?" His eyebrows furrowed in with concern.

One look at the dinner and he knew. Perhaps you had a nightmare again. But you were asleep, weren't you. He wanted to stop thinking about you. He should.

"Just do your bandage, rest and leave when the storm stops. She doesn't need to know" he said to himself.

So there he was, sitting under the side lamp in your hall to clean his wounds. Under its dim light he saw a neatly folded peice of paper.

Don't.

.

Stay away form her. She is bad news.

.

Just a peek. What she doesn't know won't hurt.

.

He doesn't care anyway right.

And the moment he opened it, he wished he didn't.

Scribble on the top was an extensive rant of your feelings. Of how much he hurt you. Written. Cancled. Rewritten and yet cut out again.

'Bas... Basterd' maybe. He couldn't figure out, you had already cut it all out, angrily trying to hide away your penned down emotions.

So many layers. So many words left unsaid. Just like them.

It is only towards the end that you left a clear message. It left his body cold. Fear in his eyes and heartbeat in his ears.

You can use the bed, rest up. I will be gone.

No... No!

Must be a joke.... You would be in bed, tucked in. Right?

His legs failed him. 8.5 steps he remembered. Just 8.5 steps and then a knock. That is all he needs to do. And you will be there, sleeping peaceful like you deserve.

But your room was empty. Dead. You were gone and he couldn't rest. All sort of horror ran in front of his eyes. How could he rest when you are outside.

.

.

.

.

.

Not tonight. The cyclone is on its way.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Wet hairs sat down on your forehead. The wind was merciless, raindrops stinging like thousand slaps. Trees fallen on the side walks, abandoned umbrellas laying on the road, glass window shattered and empty roads.

And there you were, stuck between two storms: one on the outside, another inside.

What were you doing? Where were you going? Why are you outside now?

Go back now!

Go back home... Your shared place.

Yet again you stopped, turning back, conflicting to return home, but he needs rest. With you gone, he probably would be more comfortable. Possibly sleep too.

It hurts to think he so, but at least it hurts less. Less than when your best friend didn't want to be seen with you. Was it so embarassing to be associated with you?

But this hurts less. Less than when your boyfriend didn't stood up for you and let everyone call you a fucking rebound, just a pass time. Less than when your ex sneak into your home only when he knew you are asleep.

You felt like a monster. Stabbed at heart, but never killed.

And with your heart dying in your chest you knocked at the door.

.

.

Silence.

.

.

This doesn't make sense. No one would expect you. Why be a burden when your own boyfriend don't want you.

As you set to leave the door opened revealing a sleepy Keigo.

His golden eyes went wide seeing you whimper softly in this odd situation.

"I'm sorry. I was already leaving" you whispered with guilt and pain mixed in your voice.

Please stop me Keigo.

"Don't wanna bother you."

Will you too let me go? Will I push you away too. Please don't hate me.

.

.

Please stop me, don't let me walk away.

.

"Y/N", your name slipped out of his mouth, "Come in please" he brightly chimed.

Hawks let you shower while setting out some warm clothes for you. He was kind, open, welcoming, warm and caring. He was all things you want Dabi to be towards you.

Heck he even made hot chocolate for you. Only of it was Dabi.

You always cared for him. Soothing his scars, cooking his favourite meals, holding him at nights when he couldn't sleep, and what not.

You even confessed to him, embracing every part bof him, assuring you are here with all your love only to watch him reject you.

Did he forgot you are a human? Was it funny to break your heart into a million pieces. To always push you away in public. To never want to go on dates. To call you just an acquaintance. Ahh what a curse.

But Keigo...umm he was different. So new and yet so comfortable. You would unfold before him naturally. He would hold you tight, return the same feelings.

You would make me feel wanted, won't you dabi? You thought even while looking deep into Kiego's eyes.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

" Do you wanna go for a trip?"

Dabi's attention left his phone mid texting someone random and he blurted out a rude and uninterested "What?"

"Umm you know, perhaps by the South mountains I heard about this small town and they hold their annual summer festival it will be beautiful.

.

.

.

"Ummmm I even saved some money fo.."

"No. I don't have time"

.

.

.

"Okay... Ya ya. It would be too hot anyway" you said leaving the room.

"You don't even know how to lie little doll, where did you go" Dabi thought remembering your distant conversation.

He checked the stations for you. There is no chance any flight you take off in such weather. So where could you be. A restaurant? Non open at this hour. Then maybe an arcade like old time? No not possible.

Where where could you walk away... How far from him. It was his fault, right? He pushed you away with no affection, cold replies, mean comments and hurtful actions. All his fault, he pushed you so much, hurt you so much that he can't even dare look at you.

You, his sweet little honeydrop. Flawless, beautiful, an angle, so filled with love and care and life and blessings.... While he was Dabi. A dragon, a monster, a mud name in the streets.

It was better to hurt you a little and brake your heart than to watch you suffer because you were his. His little pretty doll.

Don't hide from me love he whispered softly under his breath while taking another hopeless turn

"Do you know my favourite place in this shitty town" he said with a smirk.

You turned to him, wearing his hoody looking all sweet and innocent with a curious look in your eyes. No words were required, he knew he had your attention.

" Well look at you" he laughed meanly "so easy to captivate. As if I would tell you and ruin it"

Your eyes turn sad, hurt plastered on your expression. You mumbled something under your breath but he couldn't catch it.

You never hid anything from me before baby now I can't even find you Dabi thought deeply trying to run from all the memories that came haunting him.

What were you trying to say that evening... Was it about your favourite place in this city. Was it a curse towards him? Heck what was it.

Then a daunting thought hit him.

Were you with someone else. Warmly cocooned up at someone's place. At a home he could never provide.

.

.

.

Dabi was somehow sure but something in his chest won't let him believe so. He has to see it for himself, you wouldn't leave him this way.

Not for that flirty chicken nugget atleast. He was certain. Then why did his heart bled at the mere thought.

He definitely can't leave you alone out or with someone else.

Not tonight or anytime sooner.

[chaotic-orphan]

A Benignant Mischief (5)

Part one here

Continued from here

Back to my favourite Kingdom~

*~*~*~*~*

Cosimo managed to walk at a respectable pace with Henrik’s arm around him, supporting him as they followed the King’s trail through the palace. It felt nice to have freedom of movement in his arms, the iron cuffs were a welcome weight off his wrists.

This part of the palace looked less… formal. Less imposingly grand as the trial court had been. There were also less people, less humans, so maybe that had something to do with Cosimo’s sudden easement.

They turned a corner which opened up into a large room. Not as tall or grand as the court, but clean. Clinical. The walls were the same bone white, but three beds made up the back wall with cabinets full of bottles scattered around everywhere else, filling the space.

Nikolas was there, smiling and charming off the other grumpy human that could only be Artzet. He was taller than Nikolas, and where Nikolas was fair Artzet was dark. He had long dark, raven hair pushed back off his face, that stopped just above his shoulders. He had a wide face and a strong jaw, lined with dark stubble. His eyes were blue, when he turned his head to Cosimo and Henrik, like ice.

“Ah, there he is now,” said Nikolas with a smile, walking over to Cosimo and Henrik to stand beside them. “The man of the hour. He had a rather unfortunate arrival and I was hoping you could bandage his wrists from the cuffs.”

Artzet cocked an eyebrow at Cosimo, silent as the grave. He had a strange aura about him, unapproachable and stormy. His eyes flicked to Cosimo’s ears and Cosimo felt the shame rise in his face as he looked down.

“The boy’s an elf,” Artzet said, his voice like gravel, with a strange accent. Not unlike Henrik and Nikolas but certainly different. Foreign, like Cosimo.

“Yes,” said Nikolas brightly. “He’s a boy. His name is Cosimo, and he was mistreated in my name, Artzet.”

Artzet’s eyes were hard when they cut to Nikolas. “Don’t you usually execute elves?”

There wasn’t a malice in his words, nor anything else really. It was more… matter of fact, as if trying to glean understanding. Cosimo was dizzy with the range that humans came in. Evil, kind, happy, grumpy— and then Artzet who just… confused Cosimo.

Maybe he was going mad.

“Yes,” Nikolas replied in the same matter-of-fact tone. “Adult elves with intentions to kill me first. This boy is a child, Artzet. He doesn’t even know of our tumultuous history with elves.”

Artzet looked at Cosimo again with those icy eyes, calculating, searching Cosimo’s face for what Cosimo didn’t know. Then his face broke into a smile and it made him look a couple years younger.

“An innocent elf,” Artzet said with a bark of laughter and a shrug. “Well. It’s not everyday I get to treat an elf, please put him on the bed.”

Nikolas grinned in return, flashing his smile down at Cosimo and then patting Henrik on the back. “Marvellous!”

Henrik helped Cosimo over to the bed while Artzet milled around the room, humming a tune to himself. “You okay, kid?” Henrik whispered as he lifted Cosimo onto the bed.

“Yeah,” Cosimo replied, the room swirling slightly. “Yeah I’m fine.” Henrik smiled and grabbed Cosimo’s legs, helping him to stretch out on the comfortable bed and it felt so good. So nice and soft and warm. So unlike the cell’s cot.

Nikolas smiled at Cosimo from the entrance of the room. “I have to go and see to some arrangements about fixing you a room, Cosimo.”

Cosimo frowned. “A room?”

“Yes,” Nikolas said, smiling kindly.

“You’re not letting me go?”

The humans stilled in the room. Cosimo looked between Nikolas and Henrik, Artzet’s humming stopped. His heart was beating hard in his chest.

They weren’t going to let him go? What about? He had to save the boy and the fox he had to return to them, he had to—

Darkness encroached on the edges of his vision, Cosimo’s breath getting away from him and thrumming his chest in a staccato rhythm.

“I have to— I have to— my brother, I have to—” Cosimo wheezed, clutching his chest but it was no use. His thoughts were against him, his mind turning in on him and shattering. He couldn’t breathe. He had to—

Henrik was beside him, hand on his and squeezing. “Hey. Cosimo! Hey! Look at me, it’s okay! We’re not keeping you here. Cosimo!”

Cosimo’s eyes darted around the room searching for escape, everyone, everything was too close to him, the mattress too soft so he would struggle to run and could he even run?! In his state?

Icy eyes appeared in front of him and then smaller golden eyes. Cosimo stared, stunned at the furry creature that Artzet held in front of his face. Tears flowed in steady streams down his face but even then he couldn’t understand what was happening.

A cat?

It was a cat… Artzet… was holding a cat up to Cosimo? To take it?

“There we go. See? Everyone loves Myshka. Eh? Pet her if you like,” said Artzet with an encouraging nod. Cosimo lifted his hand and stroked the cat’s head. The cat purred under him, grey fur so soft and fluffy. “She is my nurse, helps me with all my patients. Isn’t that right Myshka?”

Myshka purred in reply. Cosimo let out a small happy laugh at her, as the grey cat curled up on his lap, content. Cosimo raised his head to see Henrik and Nikolas sharing a look of bewilderment. Cosimo swallowed, embarrassed at all the fuss he had caused.

“Mmm,” Artzet hummed in response to Myshka. “I agree. He is a lovely boy. Too tall for his age, but that means he will grow strong.”

“Cosimo.”

Cosimo looked up to Nikolas, who was frowning his brows forming a furrow at the top of his nose. His green eyes met Cosimo’s, with something heavy in them.

“You said…” Nikolas began then stopped, worrying his lip between his teeth. “You said you had a brother?”

Cosimo’s chest swelled again. He looked to Henrik who stared at him with the same tentative look that was on Nikolas’s face. So he must have said it. Cosimo didn’t remember saying it…

“You didn’t run away on your own,” said Henrik softly. Cosimo glanced down at the cat, fearing if he looked at anyone else he would start crying again. “Did you?”

Cosimo swallowed the lump in his throat.

Artzet spoke first. “Cosimo, if you wouldn’t mind stretching your arm here so I can clean it.”

Cosimo was happy for the distraction. His tongue had turned to sand in his mouth, too dry and thick and much. What would they do to the boy? To the fox? Would they kill them? Sure, Henrik liked Cosimo but that didn’t mean they liked elves. Would they put him in irons too? Force him to be in a cell? To stand trial, and then bandage him up again with an apology and an offer to stay and live with them.

“Cosimo,” it was Henrik this time. His eyes soft and trusting. “You can tell us, okay? We just want what’s best for you. And for your brother.”

Cosimo felt tears building behind his eyes. He couldn’t tell them, could he? He remembered during the trial, how Henrik had just stood back as he was tied down to an iron pole and it flared something angry in his chest. He couldn’t just tell them.

“If I tell you,” Cosimo said, tone guarded, shielding himself from the answer. He raised his head and stared straight at Nikolas. He had to hear it from the King. “Will you subject him to the same thing you did to me?”

The question seemed to suck all air out of the room. Henrik straightened, turning his body a little away from Cosimo, to look at Nikolas. Nikolas’s green eyes didn’t leave Cosimo’s. He walked closer to Cosimo’s bed and stopped at the end of it. Nikolas lifted his right hand, tucking his left behind his back and formed a fist over his chest.

His eyes solemn as he stared at Cosimo.

“I promise you, Cosimo. That your brother will not come to any harm in my care. I will treat you both as if you were my subjects. If you wish you can pass through my territory if you would prefer to keep running from where you’re from. I will provide the King’s escort so you can pass safely through.” Nikolas’s gaze softened then. A small flush fell over his cheeks, and Cosimo realised with a start that the King was… embarrassed.

“Or, if you prefer, you can have a room here in the palace. In my court. You would be treated with the utmost respect and kindness, as well as I would treat any other human. More so, because I know what pain you have been caused under my care. This, I give you, my vow as King. No harm will come to you.”

Cosimo stared without words. It felt as if his breath was taken from his chest. The only thought running through his head was that: Nikolas really did look like a King. The kind of Kings from stories Cosimo grew up with; good Kings, kind Kings, brave as knights and chosen by Gods. His golden brown hair like a crown, standing like a soldier in front of Cosimo, offering him a salute.

A King saluting Cosimo.

A human saluting an elf.

His enemy.

Maybe he was like everything Henrik had said. Maybe he was too good to be a King.

Cosimo broke down into another round of sobs. Nikolas blanked, like he had done something wrong immediately looking to Henrik who shared his look of confusion.

Artzet was bandaging Cosimo’s wrist, movement unbroken as if there was no life changing exchanges happening behind him. Myshka purred on Cosimo’s lap happily.

“Cosimo, I—” Nikolas began but Cosimo cut him off.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for causing all this trouble, I’m sorry for forcing you to be kind. I’m sorry—” Cosimo blubbered, looking up at Nikolas with watery eyes, as wide as saucers. “I’m sorry… that I’m not strong enough to say no. I— I ran with my brother, we— I didn’t have a plan, we have nowhere else to—”

Henrik engulfed Cosimo in a hug, stopping him mid sentence. He was so strong he could take the weight of them both as sobs wracked through Cosimo like a storm. Blubbering up and broiling over in waves.

“We’ll find your brother,” Nikolas said, and he was so certain. “As soon as you’re rested and—”

Cosimo’s eyes flew open, panicked. “No. Please, we have to find him now.”

Nikolas softened. “Of course. As soon as Artzet has looked you over we will set out to find him, Cosimo.”

“How wonderful,” Artzet said happily, returning Cosimo’s bandaged wrist to his lap. “I am already halfway through! Henrik, please. Let us swap sides.”

Cosimo flushed at Artzet’s manner of speaking. He spoke from the back of his throat, pausing as if for effect after every couple of words. His voice happy and upbeat, his face still the same imposing sternness that had initially scared Cosimo.

Henrik pulled back from Cosimo, and Cosimo offered him a smile. It was all he could do. Henrik returned one and walked around the bed to where Artzet was before, sitting on the edge of the blanket.

“How far away was your brother from where we were camped?” Henrik asked.

“Not too far,” Cosimo replied. “I’ll know when we get there. I left him in an elfbow. It should protect him from humans.”

“And from elves?”

Cosimo looked at Nikolas who had an unreadable expression on his face. Cosimo frowned, he didn’t even think of that.

“No,” said Cosimo softly. “No it wouldn’t.”

“No trouble,” said Artzet with a smile. “I will just work faster.”

Nikolas nodded at Artzet. “Thank you, Doctor. Henrik will stay with you Cosimo, while I send word to the stables to prepare the horses so we can leave as soon as you’re finished here.”

“Okay,” said Cosimo. “Thank you.”

Nikolas nodded and then he was gone.

“Oh no,” said Artzet not a second later. Turning Cosimo’s and Henrik’s head to him.

“What?” Henrik asked, his eyes flickering to Cosimo’s wrist.

Artzet grinned. “I think the King likes you, Cosimo.”

Henrik rolled his eyes and let out a soft laugh. Cosimo didn’t know how to react to that statement, but it did make something warm around his heart. It was good if the King liked him, that meant he would survive. The boy would survive. They would be okay, that Cosimo didn’t actually doom them. That he saved them both.

That all this had meant something.

Artzet smiled when he was finished and straightened. “Now, Cosimo. You are good as new! Well, not new, but better.”

Artzet spoke at Henrik next: “make sure he doesn’t ride his own horse in case the pulling of the reins aggravates his wrists.”

“It’s okay,” said Henrik, getting to his feet. “Cosimo will be riding with me anyway.”

“Marvellous. Now, Myshka,” said Artzet with a sigh. He leaned down and hooked his hands under the cats belly to her mewl of protest. “I know, I know. Terrible. Cosimo has a brother to rescue, Myshka, don’t be selfish.”

Cosimo got to his feet, his head only slightly dizzying now. The stress seeming to have left his body with Artzet and Myshka.

“Thank you,” Cosimo said to Artzet who was cuddling Myshka to his chest.

“Anytime, Cosimo. Now go, save your brother. I will see you again.”

Cosimo walked beside Henrik out of Artzet’s room and turned a different corner than the one that led back to the court room with the throne and the iron pole.

“Cosimo, are you sure you’re okay to ride?” Henrik asked, the skepticism evident in his voice. Cosimo for his part was doing his best to stay focused and upright.

“Yes,” said Cosimo. He did feel better, much better than before. He was a little woozy but he just attributed that to the blood loss. His hands looked a little funny with the white bandages wrapped firmly around them. Soft, yet strong. “We need to find him.”

He could feel Henrik’s eyes on him as they walked down the steps they had come up from the stables. They were so close to being safe, Cosimo could rest when he saw the boy, didn’t Henrik understand that? He could relax and let Henrik fuss over him then, but not until he saw the boy.

If the elves had got to him…

No, Cosimo couldn’t think like that. He wouldn’t. They would find the boy and everything would be fine.

They emerged from the side door of the palace to find Nikolas and some soldiers preparing horses outside the stables. Ebony was already geared up, tied off beside a white horse that Cosimo could only presume belonged to Nikolas.

He seemed like the type of man to have a white horse. It made him look more like a Hero. Henrik walked them around to where the gathering of the soldiers were to see Nikolas in the middle, sitting on a bale of hay and laughing at something with the stable boys.

He perked up when he saw Cosimo and Henrik, smiling and standing. He clapped one of the stable boys on the shoulder and then he was in front of Cosimo and Henrik.

“You’re all patched up,” said Nikolas.

“Yes, Artzet worked quickly.”

“Good. Then let’s not waste anymore time, hmm?”

They didn’t. Henrik helped Cosimo onto Ebony again and then climbed up behind him, while Nikolas mounted the white horse beside them. Henrik offered something to Cosimo and he took it, realising it was the hood and cloak Henrik had given him before to hide his ears from the other humans.

Cosimo frowned at the green material. Did he still have to hide? Was he not free by the king’s decree?

“People won’t know that you’re pardoned yet, Cosimo,” said Henrik behind him as he walked Ebony towards the palace gates. “They will still have reason to fear you if they see your ears. People have the tendency to think the worst. It will just cause panic.”

Cosimo swallowed his pride. He didn’t really have any grounds to fight Henrik who had only been kind with him. Henrik was doing this for Cosimo too, so he wouldn’t have to see the fear and hatred in the people’s eyes.

With a few orders from Nikolas they were out the palace gates and walking through the city to the border. Cosimo was awed with the reception Nikolas got from his people.

“Your majesty!”

“Your highness!”

“Three cheers for King Nikolas!”

A street band from the upper city followed the precession with lively music as they walked through the streets. Nikolas, Cosimo observed, smiled and waved and nodded when he needed to. He had no crown and yet everyone knew he was the King. He was adored by his city.

When they got into the outer parts, the poorer parts Cosimo expected some of the love to dwindle but if anything it just got louder.

“Nikolas!”

“King Niko! Where’re’ya off ta?”

“Your highness! We named our son after you,” a woman cried, holding a baby up to him. Nikolas laughed and stopped his horse beside the woman to gaze down at the sleeping child in her arms.

“Mmm, he’s going to be a handsome one, Sierra. Look at that, he’s got his father’s strong nose.” Nikolas looked up at her and smiled, what Cosimo could only assume was his charming kingly smile. “I wish you three all the happiness in the world.”

Then they continued on.

More music.

Flowers thrown at his horses feet. It’s like a festival.

Cosimo can’t help but feel a stab on envy. He can only watch as the humans fawn and fuss over their King, and with good reason, because he’s wearing a cloak right now to cover his features. His ears, his skin, his eyes. All too strange to humans, all hateful. That’s why they were greeted with flowers instead of curses and words of praise rather than hatred.

He shrunk a little into himself, pulling the cloak tighter around himself. It didn’t matter. None of it mattered. Not until they rescued the boy, that’s why they were leaving Oskana at all. If the humans knew why… well, they wouldn’t be cheering as much.

Or maybe, some tiny voice said at the back of Cosimo’s mind, maybe they would cheer even louder.

It was just a thought, fleeting, and yet somehow heavier than anything Cosimo had thought in the past day. He ignored it. The voice could be right, but Cosimo couldn’t be sure until he saw the boy again.

Until he saved him.

Cosimo raised his head as they reached the city gates, staring out into the Kingswood, as one of the soldiers in his trial had called it.

I’m coming back with help, Cosimo promised. Please, be safe.

*~*~*~*~*

Orphanage roll-call (lmk if you wanna be tagged or removed): @annablogsposts

[general--winter]

uchiha shisui x reader - forever

author's note: this is my first time writing a reader insert that is a full length one-shot, so i'm still getting the hang of it. i went through thoroughly to make sure i edited any accidental references to the reader's gender out, as there were a couple in the first draft, so if i missed any at all let me know so i can edit them out immediately!

rating: teen

fandom: naruto

pairing: shisui x gender neutral reader

warnings: suggestive content, existential musings

word count: 2340

summary: you spend a stormy evening on the beach with your beloved

Plop.

From the heathery gray clouds raging above in the wind, a freezing drop of rain dribbled into your scalp. Your eyes turned up to admire the rolling landscape of the storm brewing above the raging monotone sea. Occasionally in the distance, a coil of thunder would snake through the clouds, its rumble reaching you within seconds and vibrating the very air. When a particularly strong gust struck you, your toes curled into the icy sand and your bare arms mimicked the motion of reaching for a hug; you wanted the essence of nature surrounding you to encapsulate and invade your entire being. This moment would be etched into your memory for all of your time alive. Sometimes, when the temperature of the air froze against your exposed skin in just the right way, when the scent of a stormy summer night tingled in your nose, when every single atom in your body vibrated with the excitement and purpose of being in the moment, you felt alive. Not in the sense of existential dread, no, that was way too typical in your life. You were pretty sure everyone always felt the constant pressure of that void in the back of their skull. This feeling was rare, though. It built you back up. If only for a moment, you captured the glory of existence, saw the meaning of life, whatever the hell was going to pull you out of that deep hole. And as tragic as watching a movie you know has a bleak ending, it slips through your fingers. Fleeting. Just like life itself.

At the bottom of your peak in emotion, a soft hand slipped into yours outstretched, grounding you in the shifting sands. Without Shisui there to hold you together, you thought you might fall apart, slip right in-between the grains of sand.

"I guess you were right… it is beautiful, huh?" he gently asked against your ear, muting the wind.

"It's always one of the most beautiful sights in the world," you confirmed to your boyfriend beside you, a smug hint to your tone. Hair whipping in the gusts, you turned to face him. "But it doesn't compare to you."

A tinge of rose crept up onto his cheeks, although you couldn't tell if it had been there before from the chill. His almost-black eyes met your own from behind his shaggy hair of the same color. It's a saying, that the eyes are the window to the soul. It sounded like bullshit for so long, but Shisui's, conveying pure love and adoration for you, convinced you that you'd just not been looking hard enough at everyone else.

And his smile. God, his smile. If you didn’t know any better, then from your perspective the storm had ended before it ran its course, and the sun was radiating its kind and warm light right in front of you, chasing away every chill in your bones. You couldn’t help but raise your free hand, stroking his slightly rough cheek with a whisper of your fingertips. His own grasping for the back of your neck, Shisui latched on and pulled you in for a deep, gentle kiss, his hands and lips pulsating warmth into your wind-ravaged body. The kiss was over all too soon for your liking. 

"Come on. I think we've spent enough time out here. Let's go and warm back up," he suggested kindly, swiping a thumb over your icy knuckles and gently tugging you up the slope of the dune.

“I’m going to need more of where that came from, as well,” you teased while following Shisui. Your eyes turned back to face the main road of the shore town you two were staying in for the next two weeks.

The vacation from your full-time jobs — your guys' first since graduating from university a year ago — was a blissful one. You and Shisui had already spent many days on the beach while it was crowded and sunny, flying kites, splashing around in the deep waters, or building sandcastles. But on the drive here, your hand resting feather-light on his thigh as you kept the car steady, you’d lamented that the best beach days were the ones when chaos and storms roiled over the ocean.

“What? But then you can’t really do anything but stand there and look if everything there will kill you,” he’d replied with an audible pout, glancing at your focused gaze. “And how am I supposed to dunk you under the water if we’re not in it?”

You stole a glare at him in the passenger’s seat, your neck going pink at how cute his scrunched nose was, before once again focusing your gaze on the road ahead. “Yeah, yeah, idiot. That’s the whole point, though. There’s just something so captivating about seeing a storm over the sea from the shore. Like, beauty and peace in something that should be ugly and sorrowful. I like it.”

You both made it back up to the house, clothes wrinkled and hair knotted through. Using the hose at the entrance, you and Shisui took turns washing off your bare feet of sand. He offered for you to go first, and you happily obliged, wishing to change into something comfortable, order dinner, and get snuggling as soon as possible, but that was an incredibly rookie mistake. As you turned around, an unseen smirk played on your trickster boyfriend’s lips, and he pointed the hose at your swimsuit-clad back. Before you were able to go in, he landed a direct shot on you.

“Ah! Shisui! Are you kidding me?” you shrieked, jumping into the house. Through the thin wooden wall, you could hear his deep laughter at your reaction. Your face flush, you stomped to the bathroom with your outfit in hand, an oversized t-shirt, comfy pants, and fuzzy socks. As fast as you possibly could, you rinsed yourself off in the shower, washing and combing your hair, getting every bit of sweat and grime off of you and emerging feeling clean and refreshed.

When you traded places in the bathroom, you and Shisui each had the same idea, and smacked each others’ asses in unison.

“Damn it!” he gritted while peeking out from behind the bathroom door, ready to slam it. “You couldn’t let me have that one?”

“You always get me when I least expect it, ‘cause I always trust you. Case in point, the fucking water hose. Couldn’t you let me have one? Or maybe I’ll catch you off guard one day, you little shit,” you jaunted from over your shoulder, rounding the corner to the living room while you heard the shower thrum.

“My partner, they call me nothing but terrible, terrible names! How horrific!” Shisui yelled, sounding farther away than he actually was.

You just shook your head and settled down on the plush couch, flicking the television on to a streaming service, so when he came out of the shower, you two could continue watching your show. Before long, he had made his way out, wearing a comfortable-looking cotton t-shirt and sweatpants. Despite what looked like some sort of effort to dry off, his hair was still extremely damp, and clung to his forehead in strands. You couldn’t help but gawk at him a little bit, knowing his skin would be extra soft and warm to lay against when he sat down next to you. With no hesitation, that is exactly what he did, settling into the corner of the couch and opening his arms wide.

In a flash, you hooked your legs over his lap, wrapped your arms around his waist, and plopped your head right onto his chest. Ever since this morning in bed, when you had to pry yourself off of him like a bandaid off of skin, this was the only thing you could think about.

“Someone’s impatient, yeah?” he asked through a gentle laugh, bringing one arm around your shoulders and another to rest on your thighs.

Now this, this was your safe space. You closed your eyes, the only thing registering to you being Shisui’s scent and breathing. His soap, that cute sugar vanilla one that he always begged you to buy from the mall, wafted into your nose and intoxicated you. Behind that, his faint and musky natural odor mixed with the saltiness of the ocean came through. His body also radiated heat, his skin especially hot from the shower.

“It’s not often that I can lay claim to you for an entire day,” you admitted, turning so your cheek now rested on Shisui. “So I’m taking advantage of this entire vacation.”

“Hey, I know. I feel the same way. Life’s just been so busy lately. Work and all, for both of us.” He buried his nose into your own damp hair.

“Yeah. Sometimes it just feels like it doesn’t stop, and my head keeps spinning and churning out thoughts. The only place where it stops is right here.” You uncurled a hand from around him, and poked him in the chest.

“My chest is a pillow for you and you alone,” Shisui brought a hand to press your head more firmly onto him. The sound of his heartbeat became faintly audible. “Anytime you need me to protect you like this, I will be there. Don't you forget that.”

You felt like your heart could burst right out of your chest. Shisui’s declarations always stirred your emotions, even after the four years you’ve spent together. You didn’t know what it was about today, though. Perhaps you had borne your emotions to the world back on the beach and you needed a release, or maybe finally relaxing after the brutal work schedule you had for months coaxed something out of you. Your eyes began to water, a familiar tingling sensation creeping up your throat muscles to your face, making you scrunch up.

“Hey, what’s up?” Shisui asked gently, feeling the change in your expression on him. He gently grabbed your chin and turned your face to meet his own, noting how your eyes darted around. “Look at me. Are you happy-crying or sad-crying?”

You willed your eyes to still and meet his own, a grin creeping across your face. In the light of the house, you could see more of the brown within them, but Shisui’s pure feelings of love still radiated out of his irises.

“Happy-crying. I just love you so much, dumbass.”

“Okay, that’s good. I love you too, my queen. I’m gonna have to kill two birds with one stone, though,” Shisui contemplated, his eyebrows furrowing and an expression of deep thought crossing the rest of his face.

“Huh?”

“Well, I have to cheer you up. Can’t have ya crying like this,” he said, with a stroke to your cheek where a tear fell. “But you can’t keep calling me an idiot all of the time either, so I’ve gotta convince you to call me something else for once.”

“And how do you plan to do that?” you challenged, using the shoulder of your shirt to wipe your eyes.

“Like this.”

The little bastard tugged you in for a kiss and stuck his hands up your shirt, gliding his fingers gently down your sides and back. You kicked your legs, clinging onto Shisui even tighter than before.

“Mmpfh!” you shrieked against his lips. You felt Shisui smirk against your lips, running his calloused fingers back up for more of your sensitive skin while you tried to wiggle out of his grasp to no avail. You were able to break away from the kiss and shove your head back into his chest, your giggles muffled by his shirt. He was laughing right along with you at your reaction, the vibration of it in his chest comforting you.

“Okay, okay fine!” Shisui let up his teasing touch as you conceded and instead placed his palms flat on your bare back, unmoving. Breathy laughter was still interspersed with your words as you surrendered, “You’re my pretty man.”

While you were disheveled from Shisui’s attack, your stomach quivering, it was now his turn to look embarrassed. His gaze flickered around the room while you sat up straighter to get a good look at his face at an equal level. You grasped his face in your hands and planted a kiss on his lips.

“You really are. You’ve got such a nice nose, especially,” you said to him, while his gaze meandered in embarrassment. “Look at me, now.”

His gaze snapped to your eyes immediately, his mouth open just slightly. You continued complimenting Shisui, saying: “And you have these, like, beautiful eyelashes that make you look like you’re always wearing mascara. The way your hair frames your face is perfect, it gives you such a nice silhouette.”

You kept going, stroking each part of his face you spoke of, knowing you would work him up until steam was coming out of his ears and his entire face was tomato red. When you achieved your goal (quickly, mind you), you admired your work for a second and then sat back, instead opting to sit shoulder-to-shoulder with your boyfriend. Wordlessly, you clicked on the show that you’d intended on starting before, and settled in next to Shisui, wrapping your arm around his waist and settling into him with a satisfied hum. He did the same, leaning his head on your shoulder and evading eye contact.

If you could choose, you would opt to spend the rest of your days curled up like this with Shisui, chatting about anything at all, or silently drinking in the presence of each other. It was your personal haven, one of the only places in the world where you were able to relax fully and completely. You shifted further into him, relaxing every muscle in your body against his radiating heat, and you allowed your eyes to droop closed.

“So, what did you want for dinner?” he ended up asking out of nowhere as soon as your stomach violently growled.

What timing Shisui Uchiha had.

[youlikefanficdontyousquidward]

Heart of ice

RecomReader x RecomFike

Summary: Fike becomes separated from the squad and is forced to accept help when it gets too cold.

CW: suggestive language. sexual situations, no smut.

Recomweek Day 7: Survival

To say Fike didn't like you was an understatement. Every time you entered a room he'd groan and find an excuse to leave. He sat as far as he could from you at meals, meetings and missions. Shooting you glares if you dared to even glance at him.

To be frank you couldn't care less what the guy thought of you. You were far to caught up in your own new life to bother yourself over it. That and he grated on your nerves too, always laughing too loud or taking the best drinks from the fridge.

Still you did find yourself mulling it over when he was present. You were a doctor after all and a psychologist before this too. It was part of your duties to care for the teams well-being, physical and mental. It was hard to read all the new subtle body language ticks and each flick or sway of ear and tail could mean so many things.

You monitored him ahead of you as you trekked. The piercing wind hit through the pack, blasting tiny shards of ice into your face. You scrunched your eyes against the frigid air. The expanse of white giving you a sense of foreboding.

You'd never seen snow on Pandora before yesterday. The ship taking you north to the moons icy region had been heated. So when huge coats and gloves were in your locker, you'd blanched. Fike seemed chipper as ever mocking the equipment soundly, not even doing his coat up before the hanger door opened and biting air hit him.

You watched his tail swing inside the thermal stocking. He was tense, uncomfortable, maybe he could sense your eyes on him. Or maybe his tail was as restricted as yours. It felt wrong to have it in the heavy fleece, weighted down.

There were native na'vi to this area. You wondered how they dressed to deal with the cold. Or maybe they were furry? You pulled your scarf closes against your mouth. Your nose and ears could freeze off in this temperature. Especially your wet nose.

In fact before you trudged out into the wilderness they'd warned about taking the trail easy. The sweat against you skin could freeze if the cold got past the first layer.

It wouldn't be much longer anyway. The base you headed towards had gone radio silent last week. With it's proximity to an electrical field and an ikran nest, they couldn't send in a ship to check it out. Not in the stormy weather anyway. Instead they sent their humid jungle suited recoms in to the glacial tundra.

A pack of white fox like animals stood ahead of the the group. Almost imperceptible against the snow. Guns raised as you all watched them closely. They eyed your group, ears up and bodies still. If it weren't for the fan of hot breath fogging in front of their faces, you'd have thought them statues.

Your eyes zeroed in on one, it's head cocked just slightly. Around its neck was a woven patterned fabric collar. You pivoted round pointing your gun to rocky formations behind the group.

"They're pets!" You hollered back, hoping the wind didn't pull your voice. Quaritch called to form up, as a group you pressed forward. Guns pointing out at all angles as you approached the big eared animals.

You kept your body facing the back of the group but kept glancing forward. The six legged foxes scattered as you approached, rushing down a slope to your right, twin tails wagging. You kept walking backwards, your back against someone else's guiding you. Your gun drooped as you the seconds passed and silence remained. Perhaps they were alone, no owners herding them.

Then an arrow whizzed past you cheek, tossing your hair up with the following gust. It struck the ground by the groups left before a yell sounded out. Brightly dressed Na'vi rolled out of the snow mounds, leaping to attack, drawing bows.

"DOWN!" Quaritch yelled. Your bag tugged back, someone dragging you with them as they ran. You shuffled, stumbling over your feet to turn and sprint with them. They dropped to their side, sliding down the edge of the snowy hill, bringing you with them.

You looked to the others, watching them glide over the top of the frozen snow before turning to see who had you. To your surprise Fike gripped your packs handle, still holding you by him as he slid.

Ahead you spied the hill dip, suddenly becoming steeper or a ledge? You were going too fast to adjust course, the other side of the hill remaining a gentle slope, leading to the base in the distance. Fike hauled you to the side attempting to swing you far enough to miss the drop.

"Wait!" You called, locking your hand around his forearm. He let go but you remained tethered by your grip. He noticed now, face twisting. His mouth opened to yell something but all that came was a strangled screech as you both went over the drop.

It went dark for a moment, the dip leading into some kind of ice coated cave opening. Fike pulled your arm up, gripping you against him as you slipped through the narrowing tunnel. His arms wrapped over your shoulders, tucking your head into his chest.

You heard rushing air, feeling the ground level out and the speed of your decent slowing. Fike's grip lessened as you came to a stop. You raised your head to look around, drawing your pistol to scan the area. Your body remained atop Fike as you shone the attached torch over iced stone walls.

"Right get off." Fike grumbled. You yelped as he shoved you off him, scrambling to stand on the icy ground. You scowled at him through your cracked goggles. His frown dropping a moment before returning full force.

"The fuck was that up there huh?" He demanded, tail thrashing behind him. Agitated.

"What?" You questioned, your frown deepening.

"If you'd have just let go we wouldn't be in this mess would we!" Fike bellowed, his voice echoing through the chamber. You looked at him appalled, before stomping towards him.

"My fault? You think this is my fault? Your the one who slid down the side with the stupid cave!" You spat, jabbing a finger into his chest. Fike stepped back each time as you followed until you'd crowded him against the wall. His eyes remained locked on your, both chests heaving furnaces of fury.

"Whatever." You dismissed, pulling back and storming off to the other side of the cavern. He was maddening, you'd almost forgotten in the panicked fleeing how much he irritated you. So focused on his protective actions, oh how it vexed you.

There was an entrance leading deeper into the cave. Even with the spiked shoes gripping the ice there was no way you could climb your way out. The cave whistled with fresh air, so you reasoned there must be another opening. Hopefully one you could get through.

You could hear him crunching after you, ice cracking under heavy foot falls. Was he seriously stamping his feet? You rolled your eyes, imagining the pouting expression he likely held behind you.

You started to feel colder as you went and wet. Unzipping your jacket you realized how much snow had packed under it in your slide. Now melted against your skin and cooling again in the frigid air. Fuck. This wasn't good. If Fike was in the same condition you'd both freeze to death before you reached the base.

Ahead the tight passage opened out again, another cavern. This one was different. The walls shone with glowing moss that no ice stuck too. The whole space was without snow, though no less cold. Your breath puffed out against your torn scarf. The arrow must have cut the fabric along with cracking your goggles.

You walked to the walls taking a glove off to touch the moss. It was dry, your mind eased at this and you gathered handfuls. Fike stood dumbly behind you, head cocked.

"The hell you doing?" He chattered, teeth clacking as another shiver wracked through him.

"We're gonna freeze if we don't get warm, start a fire." You asserted. Fike didn't respond but followed your lead. Soon you had a pile of the moss to use as kindling. You searched through your pack finding things to burn. The company supplied a fire kit but it was a sparse thing. Matches. All it contained were matches. You cursed under your breath.

Fike joined your side now, dropping a bundle of twigs by your feet.

"It ain't enough." He stated matter of factually, before dropping opposite you. You pulled out the yards of bandage from your kit, wound dressings, anything you thought would burn.

You built the pathetic fire under Fikes scrutinizing gaze. Catching his shifting expressions even under his now tucked up scarf and goggles. Still you completed your task despite your shaking hands and the fire was lit.

You shifted your own scarf, hat and goggles off. Fike's eyes lifted to you, his gloved hands hovering by the flame. Then you went to take your coat off and he grabbed your arms.

"Whoa hey no. We're meant to be getting warm." He condescended.

"I'm planning on drying up while the fire still burns. If these are still wet when it dies we're screwed." you pressed. Fike took the hint, taking his arm back before shrugging his own coat off. His scowl remained in place the whole time.

By the tiny fire you dried off, feeling tiered as it's light began to dim. The faint flow of air still seemed a far way off and you were both exhausted.

Fike shivered by the embers, pulling his coat around him again. You felt the same, maybe worse. Your cheek felt tender and raw from it's exposure to the frigid air, maybe ice burn? It wasn't gonna work like this. It was far to cold to survive the night even huddling in your coats but maybe together?

You cringed at the thought but it was literally life or death, you could suck it up. Fike shot a brow up as you shifted towards him. You crawled past the heat of the ash and tucked yourself against his chest, wrapping your jacket round you both.

"Whoa hey." Fike began before you felt him ease against you, involuntarily melting against your heat. He kept his mouth shut as your arms wrapped around his waist. He followed suit, tucking his head above yours and covering it in your hood. Both your covered tails had swished forward and rested between your entangling legs.

Fike felt himself freeze, though his skin felt almost hot now. The sensation of your leg between his, your tails wrapping together, your hot breath fanning out against his chest and neck. He fought hard to suppress the twitch in his groin, to quite his thundering heart right under you ear.

He was stiff against you again, heart hammering. You could feel his hands bawled up under your coat, against your back. Could he seriously not endure this? Was he really so vexed by you that he'd rather freeze than lay beside you. You bristled but even the small space you'd left was causing heat loss. Gritting your teeth you shifted forward again, locking your hips together and squeezing your chest fully against his.

Fike felt his face burn, heat rising as you pressed against him. The hot swell of your chest, the heat of your core, your scent overpowering, he couldn't calm down. He focused his mind; combat, the cold showers, your lips, no, Quaritch screaming orders, your quivering legs as he, NO, muzzle flashes, burying himself balls deep, NO!

You felt your eyelids drooping closed, sure this was weird but you were warm and with any luck the others would find you soon. Then there was a pressure against your hip. Something hard pressing up the length to your stomach. You shifted, trying to readjust, must he Fike's belt, gun, something?

You ears flicked up at the sound. A low guttural growl, rumbling from Fike's chest against your cheek up and past the lips brushing your hair. You stilled, a sudden jolt of fear fizzing adrenaline down your limbs. Your tail shifted to try swish but Fike's gripped it tightly.

"Please stop grinding against me." Fike voice came out strained, white knuckled fists pulling you against him. You went to babble out a question before the hard outline twitched against your stomach.

Oh? Oh!

Your mind short-circuited. Brain frying in the heat that rose to your head. "Sorry" you mumbled into his chest. The embarrassment burning your already raw cheeks. This was fine, perfectly natural response, nothing to panic about. You'd sleep and untangle in the morning and be back to normal, right?

[floralovebot]

I remember reading older fanfictions about Helia/Trix friendships and I found their dynamic really interesting! I can’t find it anymore but there was a post about Helia befriending them in his first year (and most likely the Trix’s first year as well if I remember correctly they were seniors in season 1) as a little act of rebellion from Red Fountain.

I had this hc of Helia being friends with them and particularly close to Icy then having a fallout once he realises what they are up to. Maybe he found out or unknowingly helped them discover they were descendants of the Ancestral Witches, or alerted them about Stella’s scepter and out of guilt he quit rf and disappeared! Then he came back because he knew but he never said anything and it ended up almost causing the destruction of Magix.

I like the idea of Helia not telling anyone he knew the Trix personally then them finding out later on! The angst potentiall!! But then again I don’t think the Trix would keep quiet about it either!

AAGGHHH i've read fics like that too!! there was one a while back about like 14 year old helia meeting the trix and becoming friends with icy specifically! and then when he came back from art school, he couldn't believe they were the witches who destroyed everything. there may have been a scene with him going through the tunnels to cloud tower to confront them but i might be thinking about something else?

anyway! i love those fics :') icy/helia is such a guilty pleasure pairing of mine. he's such her type! just without the crazy murderous personality. plus i love the darcy/helia friendship dynamic as well (besties who judge together!!) and stormy/helia dynamics would be SO chaotic like she would stress him out so much. but i can also see stormy letting out her cute side around him more since he wouldn't judge her for that

AHH it's just so much fun - it's definitely one of my favorite helia fanon tropes.

tbh i don't think he would ever purposely help them or withhold information from rf, but i can see him wanting to believe they're still good and trying to get info on his own first/change their minds. the idea of helia helping them realize they're descendants of the ancestral witches is INSANE i love that!!

and yes! i feel like helia wouldn't want to tell anyone he was close to them or at the very least he would make it sound like they were barely acquaintances and not actual friends. saladin would probably know, but i can't imagine helia wanting to tell the specialists or winx. and a dramatic reveal later on is so good!! but at the same time, the trix would never let him live it down!! they'd immediately reveal that info once they know helia is back at rf Or friends with the main groups. like,, OUGH it's so hard to figure out how the reveal would go yknow?

i love dramatic angsty reveals but i also think it'd be so funny if they just spiderman memed each other

[charmixpower]

From best to worst individually, how good are the Trix at commanding, channeling and harmonising?

Thank you for the lore questions!! Fun fact I'm making a lore bible with now with some major rewrites and somethings that are exactly the same, and that will be out... Before next year XD

The notes are about 7,000 words right now and I can say with complete certainty that it will be over 10,000 by the time I'm done XD I've already broken it down by part to make it easier to explain. Focused, thriving, moisturized, in my lane, ect ect. Excited for that, I'll rewrite this when I finish my lore

Icy: Commanding, Harmonizing, Channeling

Icy is a straight up prodigy at commanding magic. She uses cold air and water in the air to make her ice and throw it at people. That takes an insane amount of control!! Stormy is also really good at it, making lighting is hard, but she gets to start with air and wind being already present. Icy has to MacGyver that shit. Icy is theeee baddest bitch. As for harmonizing if she had literally any other domain she'd suck massive dick at it, I mean she'd be TERRIBLE. Icy just really REALLY vibes with ice in particular, both physically and metaphorically, making it extremely easy for her to harmonize with ice/cold. She kinda views the cold as an extension of herself, so it's almost second nature to her. Adding Bloom's power to her massively fucked up her ability to do that btw bc there was something foreign was in her. As for channeling magic she's still really good at it! Remember in s2 where she nearly killed Sky in RF by, I think it's implied that she kinda internally freezes him??? Yeah but she's good at that too. It requires more thought than the first two that she's a genius in and she can do by instinct but that only makes a difference of a couple seconds. Icy is EXTREMELY good at magic

Stormy: Harmonizing, Commanding, Channeling

It's really funny to say Stormy "chaos reigns" is good at harmonizing but that's exactly why she's good at it. Baby girl IS the storms. She's like the concept lightning tornados were a person, and said storm magic reacts to her back like that. They GET each other. Relating to that, Stormy is obviously far less controlled about her magic. Stormy intuits her magic, the only thing she's really intentionally controlling is her lighting bolts, otherwise she's just pulling at the magic and letting it do what it wants while pointing it in the direction of whatever she wants dead. On that note, channeling, channeling a large wild source of magic into a little box is literally the worst thing in the world for Stormy. She sucks ass at it. Like. Barely passing her requirements sucks at it. She's all like, fuck OFF storms are not meant to be contained in tiny little magic stones, immediately die about it. And then the teacher tells her to stop being insubordinate and just do the assignment

Darcy: Channeling, Commanding, Harmonizing

I feel like Darcy is at her best in combat when she's not a powerhouse. Icy and Stormy are already power houses, we don't need all three of them to be. Darcy's commanding and channeling magic are at the same level. She's not Icy levels of good at either but still extremely good. She uses her commanding magic to throw things around and attack from multiple directions and basically uses it to influence her environment physically, and channeling magic to use things inner darkness to cause havoc. She deserves a unique fighting style her magic is so cool. As for harmonizing. You remember in s1 where she pretended to be Stella and was SO TERRIBLE AT IT??? Remember in s2 when only Icy was any good at pretending to be a normal CT witch??? Darcy is good with physical darkness, she's great with messing with internal darkness, she's TERRIBLE at the trickster parts of darkness. Like. Blowing up Riven and gaslighting him into falling in love with her wasn't even HER idea, IT WAS ICYS!! She sucks at harmonizing, she's much better at it than Stormy is at channeling, she can mostly do it but it's not very good. It's passable. High C, low B grade

[mouschiwrites]

I think you might enjoy Stay by The People's Thieves for whoever you think best fits

Oof, this one came out pretty angsty.... be warned my loves </3

Word count: 1.1k

South Park - Stay (Stan) (400 follower event)

He was in a haze, a blurry state of confusion and nauseating images surging around him like a stormy sea. And like a sailor he was sick, gripping something he couldn’t quite register but feeling no more stabilized.

Then he was on the ground, and he stared up at the black sky with half-lidded eyes. Not even the stars seemed to stay still, and they crawled around like insects on the black fabric of space. 

Stan took a deep breath, vague memories coming to him at last. The feeling of a bottle against his lips, one after the other, and the gradual loss of all sense. The taste of alcohol—the taste he hated but craved constantly. He could taste it on his own breath when he exhaled, sending a cloud of breath into the chilly air.

He closed his eyes, tired of the swaying images. Tired in general, really. Sleepy. The cold definitely wasn’t helping; the lethargy one feels in freezing weather was only exacerbating his helpless state on the ground.

There was a frown on his lips as he drifted away, and the last thing he was aware of was the deep regret in his gut that always managed to find him when he did this exact thing, time and time again:

Well, you’ve done it again, Stan. You useless animal.

When he opened his eyes again, he noticed that his head was angled as if something were under it. He reached a hand up to pull it out, but he found the thing to be a warm mass too large to budge. Not that he could’ve, anyway; there was little feeling in his limbs, let alone energy.

He opened his eyes expecting to see the black sky, but instead it was a blurry face that he struggled to focus on in the darkness. His vision was no longer swaying, but he was still quite confused and slow-witted.

“Stan!”

He furrowed his brow, staring at the face. “Wh…”

“Stan,” the voice said, wavering and anguished. “I thought you were..!” A sob cut the sentence short.

Stan squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed his eyes with numb fingers. “Don’t cry,” he murmured, “Y/n.” The name seemed to come to him on its own.

“You…” The voice wavered as it continued, clearly suppressing more sobs. “Can you stand?”

“Don’t want to.”

“Please, Stan. You’re freezing.”

“Okay,” he said at last, heaving himself into a sitting position. 

An arm hooked in his armpit helped him to his feet, and it shifted across his back to support him while he walked. He leaned heavily on his supporter, slowly coming to the realization of who this was.

“Y/n,” he said with sudden urgency. “Y/n, it’s you!”

“Yes, Stan, it’s me.”

“Oh. Guh… good…”

“Up the steps now. One, two, three. Just like that.”

The warmth of the indoors assaulted Stan like lava, burning his nose and fingers. He dropped down onto a couch heavily, draping his arm across his eyes to shield himself when a lamp turned on.

“Ow… the light,” he groaned.

“I’ll get you some water.”

Good, he thought to himself. I’m so thirsty. He hadn’t noticed before. He was overwhelmed with gratitude for this angel, though he didn’t think to voice these feelings. He just clenched his jaw while his fingers burned and his head throbbed and his tongue stuck to his icy teeth dryly.

He felt a warm hand on the back of his neck prompting him to sit up, and a cup of water was placed in his hands. Its coolness eased the assault of heat on his fingers, and he relished the feeling.

“Drink it, my love.”

He obeyed, quenching his thirst by downing the whole thing. He dropped the cup lazily into his lap, bringing his hands to his face and pressing hard as if he could squeeze the headache away.

“I feel like shit.”

“I would expect so. There was a twelve-pack of beer in the garage a few hours ago, and now it’s gone.”

“It’s not just the alcohol. I feel guilty.”

A gentle hand met his shoulder, and he could feel a sympathetic gaze on him. He didn’t dare meet those soft eyes, though. He couldn’t bring himself to face you, not as he was.

“I’m such a scumbag. Drinking all the time, wasting away in the cold. I don’t even know where I went. I don’t remember walking there, and I hardly remember walking back.”

“You were just on the front lawn,” you said helpfully, hoping to calm him a little.

“It doesn’t matter where I was,” Stan lamented bitterly. “I was drunk. Absolutely gone. Damn it, I’m just like my father, aren’t I?” He shook his head. “Don’t answer that.”

“But you’re not like your father, Stan. You’re just not.”

“Then why do I do this? Why do I hurt myself and… and you?”

You didn’t have an answer to that. Instead you offered what you could in a meek voice: “You don’t hurt me. Not physically… you’re not violent.”

Stan finally looked at you, tears in his dry eyes. You were kneeling on the ground beside the couch, one hand resting reassuringly on his shoulder. You wrapped him in a hug, squeezing tight and pressing his head into your shoulder. You felt his chest start to heave as he cried.

“I love you,” he repeated between sobs. “I love you so, so much.”

“I know. I love you too.”

“No, you don’t—you don’t know. You can’t ever know how much I love you.” Stan took a deep breath, steadying himself. “I love you because… I know that you’ll always save me. When I’m gone like that, I always find my way back to your arms. And you… you pull me up. You save me. Every time.”

You listened to him speak, grateful that you were hugging so he couldn’t see the tears brimming your own eyes. “I’ll always be here for you, Stan.”

Stan finally wrapped his arms around you, too, returning the hug. He squeezed tight, as he always did when he was overwhelmed with love for you. “Thank you, Y/n. Thank you.”

You just nodded, rubbing his back and watching the ragged breathing smooth out. 

His head was growing heavier on your shoulders. “Do you want to go back to sleep?” You asked, voice scarcely above a whisper.

“I want to stay with you.”

“You can do both, silly.”

Stan let out a sharp exhale in a half-hearted laugh. “You’re right.”

He tightened his grip on you and pulled you on top of him, burying his face in the crown of your head. 

“I love you,” he said one last time, almost drifting off while he said it.

You were quite sure he was asleep when you said: “I love you, too.”

Last request for our 400 follower event!! Thank you for taking part!! And thanks for reading, love you all <33

(divider by saradika)

[xhanisai]

untitled

AO3 / FFN

Pairing - Ladynoir, Adrinette & Ladrien

Prompt - ‘Protect’

Summary - 

"That's different!" Chat Noir snapped, eyes now watery. "That's different...because not once have I endangered a citizen like that. So tell me, why? Why are you acting like this? Why are you being so overprotective of me? Why are you being so reckless? What's going on!?" The distress and concern for the love of his life took over and the tears finally seeped down his mask, his shoulders trembling and his fangs digging into his bottom lip.

For a split second, all that Ladybug saw was white and the moon shattered in pieces.

She averted her gaze, not even budging when her partner slumped his head on her shoulder and brought her into his tight embrace. Her fists remained clenched against her sides, her mind flooded with nothing but blue and white and white and blue. "I'm selfish, that's why." Her quiet answer had the boy dart his head back to face her, eyebrows furrowed under the mask and emeralds glittering from shed tears. His heart tightened from the fatal storm he witnessed within her eyes, observing the harsh pain and suffering that dwelled deep within her soul. "I'll try my best to make sure no one else gets hurt again...but if I have to make a choice," Her next words made and broke him all at once. "I'll always choose you. Always."

~(x)~ . . . "How...how could you?" His icy tone was laced with venom and sheer betrayal, clawed fingers digging into his trembling palms in a white-knuckled grip and teeth clenched to the point where his jaw was close to clicking out of place. "How could you, Ladybug!?" His partner clad in red remained rooted on her spot, standing tall and unflinching despite their close proximity and the way he towered over her with his larger frame. Her stormy eyes continued to hold resolute and lacked any regret whatsoever, driving the feline hero absolutely insane. This time, raw desperation clouded the fury within his eyes and his hands shot to her shoulders, his grip firm enough so that she couldn't run away without a word. But not hard enough to hurt her. Never would he go out of his way to ever hurt his Ladybug. . "I saved you, that's what I did." She finally answered, her voice unwavering and cool and confident, baby blues gleaming like blistering ice under her mask and shadowed dangerously by her long lashes. It made her look apathetic and incredibly cold and Chat Noir absolutely hated it beyond comprehension. "Is that it? Can you let me go now? I have work to do back home," She shrugged off his hands effortlessly, not even acknowledging the bafflement plastered on his face. "That's it? No, no, no! You should have saved that civilian! Why did you choose to push me away from the akuma instead!? Mon Dieu...there was so much blood and-" "And?" Again, her curt, hardened answers were like blades tearing through his veins, making the flood of words in his mind dissipate instantly. "Besides, the cure fixed everything. No one got permanently hurt. Why is this such a big deal?" The lack of sympathy in her voice transitioned to one of pure fatigue and Chat Noir couldn't help but bring his hands back on her arms once more, pulling her closer towards him so that he can lean his forehead on hers. "Ladybug..." His emerald eyes were pleading yet full of confusion and tender concern. "Our job is to protect Paris and its citizens. It always has been. You should prioritise them over me, always!" Finally, a sharp gleam of anger flickered in her eyes and turned her blues into an inferno of rage, burning down the ice-cold front she wore seconds ago. "Who are you to say this to me!? Especially after all those times that you have sacrificed yourself in order to save me-" "That's different!" Chat Noir snapped, eyes now watery. "That's different...because not once have I endangered a citizen like that. So tell me, why? Why are you acting like this? Why are you being so overprotective of me? Why are you being so reckless? What's going on!?" The distress and concern for the love of his life took over and the tears finally seeped down his mask, his shoulders trembling and his fangs digging into his bottom lip. For a split second, all that Ladybug saw was white and the moon shattered in pieces. She averted her gaze, not even budging when her partner slumped his head on her shoulder and brought her into his tight embrace. Her fists remained clenched against her sides, her mind flooded with nothing but blue and white and white and blue. "I'm selfish, that's why." Her quiet answer had the boy dart his head back to face her, eyebrows furrowed under the mask and emeralds glittering from shed tears. His heart tightened from the fatal storm he witnessed within her eyes, observing the harsh pain and suffering that dwelled deep within her soul. "I'll try my best to make sure no one else gets hurt again...but if I have to make a choice," Her next words made and broke him all at once. "I'll always choose you. Always." ~(x)~ "Wow...this character is so much more intense than I thought he'd be," Adrien mused out loud, placing the book he was reading down on the grass and shuffling further against the tree trunk so that he could fully relax. He flashed a silly, goofy little smile at his quiet companion who paused from working on her homework to glance at him with a soft grin of her own. It was just Adrien and Marinette who sat under the shade of the generous tree during their lunch break, the former more than pleased to have spent some one-on-one time with the latter even if it was just lounging in comfortable silence. The boy couldn't explain it in words (he didn't think that there were any in all the dictionaries in the world that could sum up his feelings) but her presence was just so comforting and just so peaceful and he couldn't help but unwind around her with ease. He hoped that the feelings were mutual for her with him but judging by the distant, cheerless look in her eyes as she observed their surroundings in the park and the lack of energy in her tiny frame, she was not loosening up at all. He could only internally pray to whatever reliable gods or higher powers out there for an inkling of an idea or advice or anything he could do to alleviate her deep bereavement and get her to smile that sweet grin she used to wear in what felt like centuries ago. "Hey, Marinette~?" He tried to act charming and cute, resting a chin on her slim shoulder and fluttering his long lashes. A playful smirk was quick to play on his lips when she raised an amused (and very attractive) brow at him. "How far would you go for the person you love?" He gestured towards the book, indicating that the ruthless main character inspired his bizarre question. He expected a pretty blush and her cheeks turning to that beautiful sakura colour whenever she was quite flustered around him. He expected a ramble of words, perhaps jumbled up together in a soup which often had him have to use his brain to decipher (well, the remaining brain cells that weren't occupied by her adorable features). He even expected a quippy, sassy response or even an endeared roll of eyes. . He didn't expect the melancholy to come back by tenfolds, her baby blues dimming and her skin ashen. Adrien lifted his head back up, not knowing what else to do other than place his hands on top of hers and willing to give her an ounce of comfort with all his might. "Who knows...maybe I'd destroy the moon and flood the entire world," Marinette whispered as if she just spilt the biggest secret of her entire life. When she met his gaping, bewildered expression, she forced a smile back on her face and squeezed his hand. "Got you~ that was just a joke, Adrien. You should have seen your face," . Though he wore a matching grin to put Marinette at ease, the boy couldn't help but internally decipher that her answer was the key to her sadness... ~(x)~ "No!!!" Chat Noir snapped out of his brooding, forlorn state on the abandoned rooftop, misery immediately replaced with attentiveness by the sound of a familiar (very, very familiar) voice of raw defiance. First, he saw a horrified Marinette speeding across the tiles on the roof a few buildings away from him. Then, he saw her encased in a bright light of brilliant red and white. ZOOOOOOM! And then her yoyo snatched the despicable yet sneaky dark butterfly right in front of his face, the tool almost grazing his nose. . All that the boy could hear was his own heartbeat pounding intensely within his shivering frame, a high-pitched ringing insistent within both sets of his ears as he observed his Lady purify the terrifying butterfly with a rage so mighty, he could feel the fire radiating from her as if she was the sun. "Chaton! Hey! Chat Noir! Hey!" She pulled him down to her height by cupping his face desperately with both of her strong hands, her frightened blues glittering with absolute concern and fear for her pouvre partner. "Who hurt you!?" Chat Noir remained mute, severely overwhelmed to the point of buckling to his knees and falling into her open arms with his whole body shaking and shivering and trembling. "Oh, mon Chaton. I'm so sorry, so, so sorry. I couldn't protect you and your smile, oh," All he could do as she sobbed into his golden hair was silently grip her body tight towards him and cry wordlessly in the comfort of her chest where all he could hear was the beating of her heart of gold. ~(x)~ Thirty-nine butterflies. Ladybug had caught and purified at least thirty-nine butterflies that cold, bitter night as Adrien continued to soundlessly break down within her arms on her balcony, his hands clawing at her suit and his tears soaking her neck and hair. The heroine did everything she could to tame the brutally ferocious, outraged dragon within her, the shrieking monster wanting nothing more than the blood of Le Papillon splattered all over her hands and the delicious shatter of his bones beneath her feet and his vile head rolling on the floor. To bring him back to life and then kill him over and over and over again in the most torturous and excruciatingly painful ways no mortal would be able to comprehend. How dare he go after her beloved partner? How dare he continue to send his treacherous insects after him one after the other? And... How dare he choose to terrorise the world over protecting the one person he should love as much as she does? . "Marinette...I'm okay now...I'm so, so sorry for breaking down like this and not being strong enough-" Adrien's sombre words were halted by his partner kissing his tears away tenderly and her hands lovingly stroking his messy, dishevelled hair and her fingers soothing the tense muscles on his stiff shoulders. "You did nothing wrong. You never did anything wrong, mon Minou. You're too good, too precious, too wonderful for this world," She pressed a searing kiss on his forehead, bringing him as close as possible on her lap so that she could pepper more comforting kisses on his face. His tears continued to stream down his face as she kept vigilant for any more akuma butterflies that dared to make their way towards them again. Her mind was a maelstrom. Chat Blanc was making more and more sense and the burning, agonising fury against her Chaton's horrific excuse of a father was a hellfire that coursed within her veins. She needs to destroy that monster. She needs to tear him apart. All so that her partner never has to experience such pain ever, ever again- "Hey, I'm okay now," He pulled back much to her dismay, slipping off her lap and taking all the soothing warmth away with him. However, when he flashed a genuine smile (albeit timid and small), the affection came infusing back into her system. "Can you detransform? Please? I want to see you, Marinette," He held onto her hands protectively, bringing them to his chest. She unravelled her transformation wordlessly only to let out a quiet grunt when he pulled her into his arms in a manner that made her believe that he was never going to let her go (and she definitely didn't mind if that were to be the case). She couldn't help but melt into his touch as he stroked her hair with his fingers and inhaled her scent greedily. "As hectic as today was, I'm so, so happy it's you," He murmured happily into her dark locks, lips trailing from the midnight strands to her supple cheek. "You're the silver lining to all of this," His satiny soft lips then paused at the corner of hers. "Thank you," . She met him halfway with her own lips. ~(x)~ One snoozing Adrien was gently tucked into her bed, Tikki sweetly snuggled next to him so that she could keep an eye out for any more butterflies waiting to attack him in his sleep. Marinette delivered a tender peck on his peachy pink lips, lightly smiling to herself when his body fully relaxed after her touch (both of them sporting kiss-bruised lips from their spontaneous and very enthusiastic kissing not too long ago). She stepped away from her now peaceful Chaton and nodded to Plagg, the little God more than aware of what plans were being concocted within her head. "This ends tonight. He shall never hurt him again," Marinette vowed, earning a pleased nod from her tiny companion. "Say the words kid. Let's go and give that monster hell." "Plagg! Transforme-moi!" . . . ~(x)~

[slayerlevampire]

Technically Untitled - Almost got burned at the stake for this one lads

Idk a very short written thing I made a while ago about Robotnik becoming a vampire

Or something like one anyway

Since everyone is posting about their monster AU's around here aidnakxnskxj

It was a dark and stormy night, perfect for dramatics, dark magic, and mad science... Even if the "storm" was actually heavy snowfall in the form of a blizzard. Ivo Robotnik delved deep into his own writings, his notes scattered across a table as he took his own advice from each paper. As delicate as this process was, he was frantically scrambling to get it right this time, as it would be his last chance. The power to unlimited life came with human sacrifice, he knew that early on in his work, so with his failed attempts so far? The nearby village had finally figured out what was going on despite how much of a recluse he was in the woods. He knew they would be here by morning, so this was his last chance to get this right before he was most certainly taken and executed.

His human sacrifice was currently tied up, wrapped round-and-round in rope to keep them as still as possible. Alive of course, but unconscious by virtue of getting hit really hard on the head.

From tales of magic to science he's tested to be rooted in fact; he finally found that he compiled the key to eternal life. At least, a form of it anyhow. There was no way of truly knowing if this method was the most effective, but he figured that if it worked, it didn't really matter as long as he wasn't making any demonic deals. As easy as making a deal with some otherworldly being might be, there was no way he'd let himself be overshadowed by or even as much as connected to someone more powerful than him, nor would he allow himself to be put in a debt so deep.

This reasoning of his meant that it required him to do a little extra work, crafting his own demonic sigils rather than using ancient ones, so that he could make his own life rather than summoning an existing demon. Not to mention his dabbling into the science of lightning and its electric properties was something that most people this day and age thought was just things to do with deities of sorts, but he knew better. Variations of demons and maybe even angels might exist - along with other "supernatural" entities such as spirits, fairies, or werewolves - but gods, at least of the "all-powerful" kind, were nonexistent. No, this electricity from the sky was the work of natural forces that could be tapped into by less natural means. It just took skill and know-how, both of which Robotnik had acquired.

He took his various items outside into the blizzard, setting up a large circle in the snow of a cleared out area from the forest, his sacrifice in the middle. It pained him inside a bit to be letting his notes get wet from melting ice, but if this worked, he'd have plenty of time to rewrite them anyway. He followed his own instructions, drawing his symbols in the snow, cutting deep enough down to trace them into the icy mud below. Lightning struck a tree not too far off in the forest as he was doing this, almost as if it was a warning, but he ignored it and kept his concentration, mumbling an incantation that was honestly just him repeating a general idea of what he wants to happen. A form of manifestation, if you will.

Once he's got his magic items carved and laid out, he brings his human sacrifice out and in the circle. Then, he looks up to the sky, and counts between lightning strikes. This is the part he's yet to ever get to… And may or may not be the end of him here. So, admittedly, even through his intelligence and certainty that this was going to work, he was still just a tad nervous.

1… 2… 3… 4…

1… 2… 3… 4…

1… 2… 3… 4…

1… 2… 3… 4…

With each set of numbers, he drank from a new vial, each tasting more bitter or rancid than the last. It was like a waltz, counting the time between crashes of thunder and flashes of light until the electrical storm was dancing around his very circle, making it impossible to hear his own chanting even as he raised his voice louder and louder for nature itself to shy away from. The air was full of static, hot like fire despite the torrents of frozen rain that continued to pound down harder on the two forces of life on the ground. Robotnik raised his dagger high as sweat poured from his brow, melting into the clean snow on his face and running down into the earth, and he soon plunged the blade down dramatically into the chest in front of him. The sacrifice's waking scream from the burst of pain wasn't heard by anyone, not even Robotnik himself as the desire for immortality burned in his eyes while he watched the life drain from the only other pair around.

He pulled the dagger back out, and before he could hesitate or second guess himself, ran the side of the blade along his tongue before the air could freeze the blood or make his mouth stick to the metal. Then he plunged the dagger into the ground and raised his arms to the sky, calling out one last incantation to the clouds above.

That's when the first lightning strike hit the inside of the circle, hitting him directly. The pain was indescribable, like he should have been ripped apart from the very impact, but entirely energizing at the same time. The burn was searing just afterward, as if he had been in a fire for hours in the span of a second.

A second strike, hotter than the last, and Robotnik felt his body convulse as he fell backwards into the snow. He couldn't think, couldn't see, couldn't hear, could hardly feel.

A third strike, and he knew no longer. Nothing but electricity and heat as he slipped into unconsciousness.

Into death.

~~~

Everything was too much. Way too much.

Robotnik was already trying to pull himself off the ground, but the snow piled on top of him was oddly sticky. The wind was too loud. Smells too strong. Everything was heavy. He couldn't have possibly been out for long, it was still dark out. However, he may have woken up just in time: The torches and lanterns were already sputtering in the distance. He had to try his best to block out as much as possible. No matter how weak he felt, how overwhelming it all was. He had woken up from a short visit from Death themself, and he was already on the run. He could hardly lift them, but his pure determination got him to pick up what was left of his notes after being in the pounding blizzard so that he could stumble his way back to his house. He needed to hurry, but he needed to change, as he wasn't getting anywhere far like this.

He slammed and barred the door behind himself, and had to continue pushing forward to refrain from just sliding down the wall.

He didn't even realize he wasn't breathing. Wasn't blinking. Wasn't shivering despite the cold, but his hands trembled as he shoved as much of his life's work as he could into a bag. That's all he cared about. No other possessions mattered other than that of his notes. He could hear the mob approaching as he shed his outer layers of heavy clothing, only having enough time to throw on a dry coat before banging sounded at his front door.

A lantern crashed through his window as he lifted his bag over his shoulder, and when the oil spilled it didn't take long for the old, wooden floors to catch fire, along with all the other flammable objects that were nearby. He went to escape out the back door, but it was blocked. They had trapped him inside.

At least, they thought they did, but Robotnik wasn't about to let that stand. He sidestepped what he could around the fire to make sure it didn't catch onto him as he made his way to a ladder, climbing up it and to the roof above in order to escape. It was hard to open with all the snow, but he managed to climb out and look around. His little house here is mildly surrounded, in a sense that if he hits the right spot, he could probably book it. So, that's what he aims for - knowing they'll gather too close if he waits too long - and hopes the snow is deep enough to break his fall somewhat as he jumps from the quickly burning building.

He hits the ground harder than anticipated, pain shooting up his legs, and thus he collapses then and there with all the rest of the pain he has going on. He shakily tries to stand, but before he knows it he's being lifted off the ground and slammed into the wall, the heat from the fire inside burning at his back. He grits his teeth as the man who lifted him up shines a lantern near his face, illuminating both of their angry faces. Though the anger on the man's face changes swiftly to one of disbelief, even mild fear.

"Глаза демона!"

The eyes of a demon.

While the man was distracted, Robotnik took the opportunity to reel back and send a punch as hard as he could muster, which - surprising even himself, with how weak with pain he's been feeling - manages to knock him reeling, dropping Robotnik in the process.

That's when he could smell it.

Another look up from both parties, and that's all it took. The sight of fresh blood pouring from the man's nose, less than a meter away.

Everything else seemed to go hazy, time felt slower. All he could think about was the warm, red flow of life.

Something he no longer had for himself.

Everything went out of focus. Everything, including what was right in front of him.

When he came to, the mob was gone. The snow was red. He was covered in red.

Robotnik felt temporarily satisfied.