#like for a moment it was just her and white that were fully conscious in CYM

[artsycooky13]

for just a moment, only two were left in that head

[ratatouillewastakendammit]

HAIII :3 I absolutely loveddd the love quirk fic you wrote for Hawks and I was wondering if you could make part two but it's Hawks that gets hit this time🗣️

Enjoy 🫡

I’d never mind

Pairing: Hawks x Reader

Warnings: Language, slight smut/suggestive, Hawks gets supperrrr clingy

Word Count: 3.5k

Click click click

The keyboard chirped as your fingers glided over its surface, lowering themselves just slightly every so often on a specific key. Almost like magic, the letters appeared on the screen, each one following the other in tandem as they melded together and formed the sentences you desired. 

Click click click

You paused, eyes grazing over the screen in contemplation, your thumb slowly finding its way to your pointer finger to fidget in the short spout of reprieve.

Writing emails had never been very interesting, especially since most of them consisted of you attempting to come up with the most creatively professional ways of conveying ‘screw off.’

Although not unusual, the shady paparazzi sending in emails for a much too personal interview always left your boss annoyed. He had actually given you the go ahead to tell them to mind their own business, an opportunity that had unfortunately bothered your well-mannered temperament far too much, so you were left to do the proper tweaking. 

After years of schooling, you would have been perfectly content to avoid writing anything longer than a paragraph all together. Regardless, the unusually high pay tethered to the application for the number two’s secretary was much too alluring to pass up.

Working for Hawks had been surprisingly enjoyable, although you did have to get used to the smell of fried chicken wafting through the lobby every afternoon. 

And the quiet attraction you held for him gnawing at your conscience.

Without mentioning his level of physical appeal, which was most definitely high, he had been quite friendly and kind to you, a far cry from what you had to endure from previous employers.

Seeing as you had found yourself working predominantly in the customer service industry, though, maybe that wasn’t so impressive. 

Each flirtatious remark he shot your way left you craving more, although you were determined not to let it get to your head, especially with all the tabloids going on and on about his playboy lifestyle. 

It wasn’t like it made you important.

With a sigh, you pressed the ‘period’ key, sitting back to inspect your work with a thoughtful eye.

After taking a moment, you found yourself fairly satisfied with the contents, clicking send and slouching into your chair with another breath. 

A peaceful silence echoed through the agencies entryway, wrapping its arms around your mind and weighing down your eyelids with a gentle pull. 

It was nice, tranquil.

The doors burst open. 

You stood, fully expecting blood or a broken bone to come along with the gaggle of yelling. There had been a few times where an upcoming pro had entered through the door with battle injuries, and if this was one of those instances, you were sure it wouldn’t be the last.

Today, though, everyone seemed fine.

Hawks, along with the small group of heroes behind him, appeared to be absolutely unharmed.

Hands in his pockets, he walked backwards, words geared towards the long, white eared woman yelling from behind him. “-worries too much.”

“Uh,” you cleared your throat. “Is everything okay?”

Mirko scoffed. “Yep. I just work with an idiot.”

It hadn’t taken long to adjust to the woman’s straightforward attitude, especially since most insults weren’t directed at you. Surprisingly, the hero seemed to have taken a liking to you, something strikingly close to what you may have defined as friendship, so you were content to sit back and watch her quarrel with Hawks instead.

The man in question threw his coworker a vulgar gesture before turning around to face you, freezing as his eyes met yours.

You shuffled your feet, becoming self conscious as his full attention seemed to pierce through you.

“Are you oka-”

Pushing off the balls of his feet, Hawks shot forward, clearing the large expanse of the lobby within seconds.

The action barely registered in your mind before he reached you, hands sliding underneath your back and knees as he pulled your body into his, lifting the two of you in the air.

Instinctively, your arms wrapped around his neck, tightening as your stomach dropped.

It wasn’t until your shoes touched the marble that you loosened your grasp. The one Hawks held on you didn’t seem to waver, however, his biceps pressing you into his chest.

He pulled back enough to face you, sporting an exceedingly charming grin that had your heart thumping. “Fine, just missed you is all.”

You paused.

“Huh?”

Somewhere in the background, Mirko let out a sigh, the sound fuming with a mix of relief and pride. “I fucking called it.”

“I’m sorry?” You called, attempting to withdrawal out of Hawks’ hold, your strength doing barely anything against his.

“Nothing.” The pro lifted a hand to her mouth, concealing what you could’ve sworn was a laugh. “He got hit with a love quirk.”

“He what?”

“I’m fine.” Hawks waved her off, golden irises still locked on you.

“He was helping some civilian out of a car accident and go hit with it,” Mirko replied, itching the back of her elongated ear. “They said he should be fine by tomorrow, and since it hadn’t taken effect yet, we figured it be fine if he brought him here.”

She bent at the waist, inspecting the way you were still attempting to wriggle from his clutches before continuing. “Maybe not.”

“So… what am I supposed to do with him?”

She sighed. “Not sure. Good luck, though, I have to go write some reports.”

And with a small wave from Mirko, you were left alone, regardless of the pleas that followed her down the hall.

Surprisingly, it had taken a mere polite request from you to get Hawks to detach himself. He definitely wasn’t as compliant when you pulled a spare chair next to yours before attempting to finish your work for the day.

He watched you, face contorted in thought for a few moments before a grin fell over his features.

You hadn’t noticed what he was doing until his arms snaked under yours, lifting you up as he slid into your spot and plopped down. Next, he grabbed your waist, pulling you forward into a sitting position, thighs straddling his.

Warmth blossomed in your face as you tried to slide off, the hands pressed firmly on your hips easily denying you the escape.

“Oh, come on, sweetheart. You don’t have to be shy,” he chided, nuzzling his face into your shoulder.

“It’s just, uh…” you craned your neck to the side, trying to take a look at the front door. “Anyone could walk in, ya know?”

“So?” He cocked an eyebrow. “Whoever doesn’t know you’re mine yet is an idiot.”

You remained silent, heart jumping at his words, but continued to wait for any moment that his grip would loosen, giving you a chance to slip away.

Still, you had no doubt he would be quick enough to catch you again.

Not that you would particularly mind.

At some point you gave up, shuffling the chair around and starting your work once more, pretending to ignore the way your body fit into his, or the soft, affectionate way he was playing with a strand of your hair.

The two of you fell into a quiet lull, the sound of your fingers against the keyboard the only noise. Thankfully, the back of your chair was short enough for you to see your computer, making for a surprisingly straightforward setup.

“Do you like someone else?”

His works made you pause, hands hovering above your desk. “What?”

“I’ve liked you for months and you barely give me any attention,” Hawks huffed. “Is it that dumbass pro from the next town over?”

“No, that’s because I-” The words made you pause, words faltering as your mental gears began to turn.

Months.

That doesn’t make any sense.

The quirk made him like you, sure, but was it messing with his memories as well?

You glanced down at him, ignoring the small laugh bubbling up your stomach at how dejected he looked, a far cry from the usually cocky attitude you had come to know and enjoy.

Still, the statement led to far too many things not adding up, the dissonance boggling your train of thought until the rest of your productive workday became impossible.

“I need to go talk to Mirko." You pushed the chair away from your desk, pleasantly surprised when Hawks agreed to let you go.

Regardless, it didn’t take long for him to lace your fingers through yours, guiding the both of you to the first floor elevator.

You entertained him for the ride up, the skin of your palm tingling against his.

It was when you arrived to the doorway of Mirko’s office, however, that you had a problem.

Bringing your pointer and middle finger to your temple, you massaged the skin in exasperation. Hawks had become quite adamant on not leaving your side, despite your exasperating protests. “Can you just wait out here for a few minutes? Please?”

It took a few moments but the look of distress slowly morphed into one of wicked glee, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Alright, fine. But you have to give me something first.”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “Okay… and what would that be.”

“I think you can guess.” His eyes flicked down to your lips.

Oh shit

You swallowed, almost fearful if you opened your mouth to speak, he would hear your heart beating up through your throat.

It’s just a kiss, right? No harm done?

The words seemed useless amidst the power of your nerves, the best course of action fighting its way to the forefront of your mind.

No way no way no way no way

Lifting up your heels, you took a sharp breath, pressing your lips against his for a mere moment before pulling away, scurrying past the doors to Mirko’s office and shutting them with a slam.

The woman looked up from a stack of paperwork, eyes shining in excitement at the distraction, and probable drama you were bringing. “What can I do for ya?”

There were a few seconds of silence, those in which you used to collect yourself, before you answered. "I was wondering if the civilian, the one with the love-quirk, I mean, told you anything else about it? Besides how Hawks will be better tomorrow and stuff."

She cocked an eyebrow. "Such as?"

"Well," you hesitated, taking a moment to remind yourself that it was alright to tell her, a woman who had become dangerously close to your friend, despite the warnings that came along with close relationships with heroes. "He said that he's liked me for months and that just doesn't make sense, especially if the quirk only really affected him a few hours ago, right?"

“I was just…” you sighed, taking a moment to compose your words before continuing. “Did you ask the quirk user if his memories would be influenced at all? Like would they be different than what’s really true?”

“Nope.” The lack of knowledge left your chest heavy, pulling your face downwards to focus on your wringing hands. “They did say that Hawks would only be affected if he looked at someone he had feelings for, though.”

Your eyes shot up. “Huh?”

Miraculously unbothered, she was now inspecting her nails, currently painted a soft gray and shaped into points that you couldn't imagine would be practical. "Uh-huh."

“And you didn’t think to say anything?”

“I figured it would be best to let him tell you himself, even though I only really had a half guess that he liked you,” she replied in amusement. “And since he technically did tell you, I’m off the hook. Figured I’d let you two weirdos work it out.”

She propped her left foot on the edge of her desk, using the momentum to push her chair backward before standing. With a wave of swagger, she made her way over to you, placing a hand on each of your shoulders before spinning your body around and prompting you towards the exit.

Squirming away didn't seem to make a difference, especially considering that her left bicep seemed to be about the size of a tree trunk.

"Wait-"

"Have fun!"

Opening the door, she pushed you out before locking her office, leaving you to glare at the foggy glass.

Are all heroes this manhandle-y?

An arm snaked around your waist, the sudden contact making you jump. "How'd it go? Figure out what you needed?"

Taking a moment to slow your heart, you turned around to face Hawks. "I, uh... yeah, I did."

Looking up at him now was an oddity you weren't sure you were ready for. You were almost sure he didn't reciprocate your feelings, the actual possibility being something you had pushed away in fear of rejection, the concept becoming foreign to you.

Now, it was hard to believe you weren't dreaming, almost as if the soft smile and longing glance he was giving you would slip through your fingers if you didn't hold on tight enough.

The thoughts infiltrating your mind had you distracted, a soft sting of embarrassment hitting you when you realized you both were dangerously close to one another in the middle of the main office floor.

Regardless, when you glanced around, you were met with a quiet destitution, a stark difference to the usual business the agency saw on a Friday afternoon.

"Um, where is everyone?"

He cocked his head to the side, a small chuckle erupting from his lips as he took your chin between two fingers and pushing it slightly toward the left. At first, you weren't sure why, but the clock sporting a 7:27 fell into your line of sight. "Only the workaholics stay this late and we don't have many of those here."

Guess I was going through emails for longer than I thought "Oh. I suppose I should be going home too, then."

"Can I come?"

You almost laughed at his question, the thought of someone of his social standing, and economic one, asking to come to the small apartment on the edge of the city you called home. "You definitely wouldn't want to."

"Then why don't you come back to my place?"

The request made you pause, drawing a feeling of unease into your system despite the lightheartedness it was delivered with. At this point, you knew he liked you, but the idea of going to his house left you anxious.

As far as you were aware, he was an individual of solitude, not even Mirko, whom you perceived to be a fairly close friend, had been to his abode.

For some odd reason, the idea made you feel icky. You sure as hell wouldn’t want to wake up surprised to someone sleeping next to you in your home, someone who you had unknowingly let in while under the effects of a quirk no less.

Seemingly able to notice your hesitation, Hawks offered you his hand. "Follow me."

He didn't exactly wait for a response, lacing your fingers through his and tugging you towards the elevator with a gentleness you wouldn't have believed to be possible with him.

With each button lit, a floor fell beneath your feet, every ding bringing you closer to what you were sure was his office.

It was quite large, the metal doors opening directly into the fully windowed room. White and gold furniture lay atop the marbled floor, polished to a shine.

The birch desk and swivel chair took of most of the space, but he had some other things laying about, such as the mini-fridge and air fryer to your right.

You were almost positive what went on there.

An ivory couch, just about the same width as a twin sized bed lay along the left wall, its creamy pillows and a lusciously looking soft blanket thrown on the side.

A moment passed before you understood what was happening. "Are you… are you sure that's even big enough for both of us?"

"Don't worry about it, songbird." He shrugged his jacket over his shoulders, grasping your arm and pulling you towards the sofa. With exhausted grace, he fell over it, tugging you with him until your body lay over his.

Fuck

With the outer layer off, the fabric of his shirt was just thin enough to feel the ripple of his muscles between your fingers. The soft heat radiating off his skin was nothing short of addictive, the warmth something you were tempted to bask in forever.

And the thing was, you were sure he would let you, if he asked.

The thought was sweet, but it didn’t take long for your mind to wander, to imagine what else he would do for you; would do to you.

"Are you turned on?"

That sure broke the peaceful daze. "What?"

He sat up, golden irises burning in excitement. "If you wanted to do something, you could've just asked."

"I'm not." The words came out exceedingly more nervous than you anticipated.

"Liar." A wicked grin laced his features. "I can tell, ya know, when you're in the mood."

Heart dropping to your stomach, you blinked up at him. "You... you what?"

"Mhm." Hawks placed a hand on your chest, fingers toying with the top of your shirt. "Your heart speeds up just so. I can hear it.”

“You’re bullshitting me.” Somehow, you suspected he wasn’t. The details of his quirk were unknown to you, but you had heard of the heightened senses tethered to those feathers he possessed.

“Ouch, so vulgar,” he waved off the assumption, using his left hand to draw gentle circles on the skin of your stomach. “But keep telling yourself that. I can be patient.”

Your brain filled in the blanks.

I'll wait until you’re begging for it

You tried desperately to ignore the thought, to quiet your frenzied mind and think of something, anything else. Curiosity, it seemed, was your saving grace, another question blossoming in your mind. "So, if you knew about... ya know, why didn't you say something.”

"Liking someone and being horny for them are two different things, gorgeous." He flashed you another grin, identical to the ones on the tabloid covers that inspired thirst tweets and tumblr stories. "Besides, I’ve heard it isn’t very hard to want me in bed, figured my sweet little receptionist wouldn’t be any different."

You snorted. "You're an idiot."

"But you don't mind, right?"

The question came across as playful, but there were wisps of insecure longing strewn amidst his tone.

"No, I definitely don't."

Your affirmation seemed to meet his standards, the man burying his face in your shoulder and pulling you back down onto the couch. Golden locks tickled your cheek, the soft hum of the air conditioner lulling your eyes to a close.

Minutes passed before the two of you fell asleep, surprising seeing that you were usually quite the night owl. Regardless, the way his wings enfolded around the both of you, blocking out the remnants of the evening sunset and any other distractions made you feel disturbingly safe. You would have been content to die here, his arms wrapped around your torso, shielded from the rest of the world within the scarlet plumage.

Chests moving in tandem, each breath undisturbed and hushed as the hours ticked by.

Upon waking, the first thought that entered your mind was how cold it was. That plush blanket you had been eyeing earlier was wrapped snugly around your form, but the fabric seemed to pale in comparison to what you had enjoyed last night.

Your eyes flickered open, straining under the sun streaking past the windowed walls. It took a moment for them to adjust under the harsh lighting, but you jumped when you glanced around to see two golden irises staring back at you.

Hawk's head was propped up on his arms, each balancing on the side of the couch, a few centimeters away from you. A smirk twitched at the corner of his lip at your reaction. "Good morning."

"What the hell are you doing?" You groaned.

An unbothered shrug tugged his shoulders upward. "You look pretty when you're sleeping."

Sitting up, you rolled your joints, stretching the rest of the tiredness away. "Hasn't anyone ever told you watching people while they sleep is creepy?"

"I've never found anyone else as good looking to feel the need to do so." He tilted his head to the side, flashing a boyish grin. "Besides, I thought you ladies liked that sort of thing. Isn't there a movie about that or something?"

You rolled your eyes, sitting up with a yawn. “So… uh, I’m guessing you’re back to normal then?”

"Yup," he replied, popping the 'p' at the end. “Why? Miss me hanging off your shoulder twenty-four seven?"

Yes.

“Shut up.”

He grinned, seemingly unaffected by your fatigued harshness. “So, are you gonna let me take you out today or what?”

“You still want to?”

“Well obviously,” Amusement laced his tone, a quiet ardor brewing among his features. “Unless you’d just like to skip all that and fuck.”

The thought had heat blooming in your cheeks, “You’re so vulgar.”

“And you love it.”

“Maybe.”

You did.

[softxsuki]

Hey, hope you're doing great! Can i ask an urgent request, a jjk x fem reader where the reader is left in a vegetative state after a mission, all them seeing her for the first time in intensive care with multiple tubes going in and out of her while she was fighting for her life in a coma, and like when she wakes up she's clueless the first days, struggling to say what she wants or express any emotions because she's unable to talk (and move also) Hope it's not a burden to you <33

Megumi, Gojo, and Itadori With S/O Who's In A Coma After A Mission

| Pairings: Megumi x Fem!Reader, Gojo x Fem!Reader, Itadori x Fem!Reader | Genre: Hurt Comfort, Angst | Post-Type: Headcanons | Word Count: 1.07k |

Warnings: mentions of death (no one actually dies), past character deaths, despair, crying (in itadori's), reader in a coma

Note: Hello <3 Happy New Year. I actually really enjoyed writing this one. One of my fav jjk posts so far 0.0 hope you and anyone else that reads it also enjoys it! And I hope your situation with your family has improved <3

Megumi:

Megumi is in shock as soon as he finds out you’re in a coma after your recent mission

You had assured him you’d be okay, and in that moment, regret fills him for not pushing to be there with you

He’d already gone through this with Itadori years ago when he thought he was dead after that one mission they were on together, and now here you were clinging on to life, one of the most important people in his life

He was scared he’d never see you awake again, yet he remained calm on the outside, coming to the hospital to visit you everyday

You were in the same hospital as his sister, who was also in a coma, so he was also able to visit her more often while you were there

The two most important women in his life were practically lifeless on hospital beds, it killed him

However, hope filled him one day when he saw your fingers fidget and he immediately ran to get a doctor–you were waking up

Confusion fills you as soon as your eyes open, you can’t quite put together where you were, the last thing you remembered was fighting that powerful curse before everything went dark and now you were in a room surrounded by people in white coats

The doctors had just finished removing your breathing tube since you were finally stable and conscious 

Megumi feels his shoulders lighten as he sees your eyes open, you were alert, which was a good sign

He takes a seat beside you, the chair he’d been glued in since he found out you were in a coma and takes your hand to let you know he was there as the doctors started their examination on you to make sure you were doing well

The next few days are tough on you as you struggle to move or speak due to going so long without doing both of those things while in a coma, but Megumi is by your side the whole time helping you out

He spends his every waking moment by your side, taking care of you until you’re back to your normal self

Gojo:

Like Megumi, Gojo is also worried of course, but that worry doesn’t show on the outside

Yet everyone around him knows something is wrong because he’s unusually quiet and doesn’t joke around anymore, he’s become very serious

He was the strongest in the world, yet couldn’t do one simple job and keep you safe? He was beyond disappointed in himself

There was so much responsibility on his shoulders that the elders threw on him, but they didn’t dare request him during these weeks while you were in a coma

Gojo was unstable and there was no telling what he’d do if anyone pushed him too far, so he spent his time visiting you, and continuing to teach and train his students, the only two things he could find the energy to do, but all solo missions were at a standstill

Even after you awaken, Gojo still isn’t himself, his attention is now fully on your recovery and making sure the doctors are doing their utmost best to make sure you recover fully

The thought that he was so close to losing you just like so many of his other friends and colleagues terrified him, he felt unworthy of his title of the strongest, but moving forward he’s even more protective of you after seeing how easy it was to almost lose you

So after you’re released from the hospital and sent back home, finally able to speak and move around again, Gojo is on high alert

He feels paranoid that something will happen to you again so he pushes back his missions and has the elders give them to other sorcerers in the meantime so he can watch over you

It kills you to see him this way so you’ll have to do your best to persuade him that you’ll be fine and safe, he can’t spend his whole life glued to your side, that’s no way for him to live

So it does take a while to persuade him to continue his work, but he makes sure to keep you heavily guarded while you’re still in recovery

It will take a while before he’s back to his usual self, just give him some time

Itadori:

Itadori is probably the most visibly impacted one after hearing the news that you were in a coma after your latest mission

He’s another one who has lost countless people and felt responsible for not being strong enough to protect them, and now he couldn’t even protect you

He’s distraught, silent tears falling from his eyes as he makes a promise to exorcize the curse that did this to you

If he wasn’t by your side, he was out on the streets eliminating curse after curse, waiting for the moment he’d come across the curse that put your life in danger, he wouldn’t be going easy on it

It kills him to see all those tubes connected to your body, you looked so fragile, like any tiny gust of wind will have your heart monitor flat lining at any given moment, he was terrified 

He experienced too much loss already, if he lost you as well, he’d never recover

So when he receives a call from your doctor, he’s already running to the hospital before he even picks up the phone

You were awake

Tears of relief fall from his eyes when he sees for himself that you are in fact awake–your eyes on him as he enters your hospital room, eyes he thought he’d never see again

He collapses at your side, pulling you into his arms, almost scared that if he let go, he’d never see you again

The weeks of your recovery go smoothly with Itadori by your side though, he listens to everything the doctors say and helps you get back on your feet, literally

Walking became difficult for you, so he became your cane

Even talking hurt your throat, but he’d speak for you until your throat healed up andyou could speak again

He was incredibly attentive and caring during the next few weeks of your recovery and made a vow that nothing like this would ever happen to you again so long as he was alive and by your side

And that was a promise he’d keep forever

Posted: 1/1/2024

[the-fandom-abyss]

Not Woodsboro

Sam Carpenter x Reader

Genre: Fluff ♡/Angst ❀

Word Count: 1,306 words

1k Follower Celebration

The New York streets seemed empty for a city that never sleeps. It's as if the residents could sense what will happen on this fateful night. Lives could be lost, final breaths could be taken, blood will be spilt. The air was thick, nerves even thicker. The group walked along the sidewalk, weaving their way to the epicentre of horror. Not a single word had been spoken, each person too scared to voice their thoughts. Rightly so, as most of them pictured the worst case scenario. Just before the entrance, the group came to a halt, turning to discuss future plans.

"Not you" Sam mentioned, finger pointing towards Danny, who seemed surprised by her suggestion. A giggle bubbled in your throat, spilling past your lips. Danny has been following Sam like a lost puppy and watching his face deflate as he was denied, was the light you needed in this horrid time.

"Take that boy next door" in a childish manner, you poked your tongue out at him. Confidently, you strode towards Sam before a strong finger in your chest caught your attention.

"That goes for you too" the look that settled on Sam's features showed that she was deadly serious. The finger in your chest was hard, applying pressure to prove a point. You didn't miss the smug smile that graced Danny's lips, it irked you even more.

"What? Why?" Sam's facade faltered for only a second, bile rising at the thought that you could be the killer or worse, be in danger. She would not have that playing on her conscious while she fought for her life.

"You're not Woodsboro" a statement that set the tone for the rest of the night. For those who were fortunate to never experience Ghostface, could not be fully trusted. It was an initiation that no one truly wanted to go through and yet, here you all were, new and old alike, trying to avoid the grim reaper.

"But Sam" was said in a form of a playful whine. Sam knew your true intentions, wanting nothing more than to protect her. She rolled her eyes at your comeback, hiding behind sass to avoid her true feelings.

"Don't trust anyone, remember?" All you could truly give was a small nod of understanding. There was no need to push the subject, she will never change her mind, not in a million years. A dejected sigh left your lips, shoulders slumping at the realisation. "Stay safe, please" a silent promise that Sam knew that she could not keep. You leant in closer, placing a soft kiss on her cheek, hand intertwining with the one that sat firmly at your chest. Sam share one more look with you before meeting her fate, fingers slipping from each others hold as you watched her walk away.

Danny was no longer needed, so he count his blessings and disappeared into the night. A shady act for a man that claimed to be innocent. Before you could dwell on Danny's figure fading into the shadows, a hand twisted around the collar of your shirt. With a strong tug, they dragged you into the closest alley, slamming you against the brick. Your head bounced off the wall, leaving a dull ache to pound in your skull. "Ah fuck" was all you could say as a pair of black, droopy eyes stared back. The white of the mask shining in the dim light of the alley, followed by the black outfit that covered the body. This was your luck, for Sam to leave you where she thought you'd be safe for it to be the exact opposite. This Ghostface was on a time schedule, no time to tease or deliberate. With one swift move, they lodged their knife into your stomach, the blade gliding all the way to the handle. Just as quick as they appeared, they removed the knife and slammed your head against the wall once more.

The world became hazy, dumpsters moving of their own accord, distorted sounds of the empty streets. It rendered you unconscious, for only a moment. There you laid clutching at your open wound, with eyes that refused to stay open. Some time had passed, who knows just how long. It was long enough for you to see straight and regain some strength, just enough to figure out what the hell was going on. Sam had specifically forbidden you from entering, but you were already hurt, what's the worst that could happen? With the strength you had regained, you stumbled across a back entrance to the theatre which you gladly went through.

Hidden behind dusty chairs, that was where you camped before you were ready to make your move. From there you watched as not one, not two but three Ghostfaces revealed themselves to the sisters. Ethan was among the killers, holding a knife that was covered in blood, your blood. Anger began to boil within you, wanting nothing more than to seek revenge. So you waited and plotted for the best chance to strike, fortunately you didn’t have to wait too long. Ethan re-emerges from one of the many exits, stalking towards Sam as she followed his movements backwards. As quietly as you could, you made your way down to the main floor, stealing a knife from a cabinet along the way.

A shaky breath filled your lungs before running towards danger. In a matter of seconds, you had lodged your knife into Ethan’s shoulder, twisting it until he grunted in pain. Sam’s features mirrored the same surprised look that Ethan had. Both shocked by what had happened and who had the upper hand. Taking advantage of the frozen killer, you tried to inflict more damage. “That’s for fucking stabbing me”, with force you pulled the knife out of his shoulder, aiming for the other blade. “And this is for fucking with my girlfriend” as you lowered the knife, Ethan was quick on his feet, spinning on the spot. Just as your knife slices into his collarbone, a familiar pain shoots through your stomach. He had successfully stabbed you, using your movements as a distraction. What felt like minutes ticked by, as you stared into each others eyes filled with rage and pain. Naturally, you both twist the knife in unison, eliciting a scream of pain from the other.

“Bitch” was spoken through gritted teeth, his knuckles white from the tight grip he had. His hand twitched, shifting the knife ever so slightly.

"Virgin" was thrown back at him, knowing that this was a weak spot for him. In petty fashion, you slightly moved your hand, like he had done to you. Right before he could inflict more damage, the moment was ended with a gun shot. One last fatal blow to the head, that covered you in more than your own blood. With no need to grip so tightly, Ethan let go as he fell to the floor, your grip loosening as he moved. While your eyes were trained on the body, Sam wasted no time in rushing over to you. Her eyes glued to the knife that sat comfortable in your lower abdomen, debating on whether it be best to pull it out.

“Are you okay?” The questioned snapped Sam out of her haze, turning her focus onto you. She couldn’t believe that was what you asked, she should be asking you the very same question.

"Are you?" She couldn’t help herself, she needed to know that you were okay. This was the last thing she wanted, she demanded you stay outside for this very reason.

A groggy "mhmm" was your response before the edges of the world became fuzzy. When you fell unconscious, Sam was there to catch you, ushering you towards the closest ambulance. It was her turn to protect you, like you had done for her.

[duskyashe]

CAMP NANO DAY 1

Calling All The Monsters part 4 chapter 1

[First] [Previous] [Next] [AO3]

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Jason was more than ready to get this over with. Unlike the others, he'd known he wasn't fully human for years, pretty much ever since he'd come back from the dead. Looking back on it, he'd even known the others were slowly changing, too, he just hadn't had the words. He hadn't known there even were words for the feeling of slowly finding his footing among others that were just as inhuman as himself. Well, other than relief.

As soon as Dick confirmed when and where the kid was willing to host tutoring sessions for all of them ("He said he wanted to work with each of us individually, first, but that he was willing to work with groups of up to three at a time if B was more comfortable with that," Dick said with a thoughtful frown, cowl held loosely in one hand. "Personally, I think the first meeting should definitely be two of us, but the rest should be played by ear, but it's your call, B,") Jason was nearly vibrating out of his own skin in anticipation. Answers to all his questions about himself, from his first fully conscious thought after his dip in the Pits to a reaction he'd had to something just last Tuesday, were just out of his reach and he could feel his frustration and impatience building in the back of his throat. Grimacing, he swallowed the urge to vocalize his feelings before taking a deep breath. It was only an hour more before Condor and Starling would be meeting up with their new tutor, he could hold out that much longer. He could.

"You alright there, Jay?" Steph asked as she entered the cave. Her long blonde hair was braided tightly against the crown of her head in preparation for getting in costume.

He shakily let out the breath he'd taken and nodded in her direction. "Just anxious," he said, meticulously going over his guns yet again. He was mostly suited up, himself, just needing to mask up and slip his gloves on. He'd initially had his gloves on, but cleaning his guns was easier and more grounding barehanded, so off they'd come.

She gave him a searching look. "You really believe Phantom, don't you?" Steph asked after a moment.

Jason paused his movements and let out a sigh. "Yeah. Yeah, I do," he replied, setting his cleaning rag to the side and finally looking directly at her instead of just from the corner of his eye. "Look, I'm pretty sure it was fairly obvious to B, Dick, and Alfie, and maybe Tim saw it, too, but I didn't come back from death the same as I was before. And I don't mean "the trauma of my death changed me"," he said with finger quotes, rolling his eyes at the same time. "I mean I literally didn't come back fully human. At the latest, I've known I wasn't fully human since shortly after everything that happened with Tim, but it's far more realistic to say I've known, at least on some level, ever since I first came out of the Pit." Jason sighed and ran a hand through the tuft of white hair that liked to fall into his eyes. "Looking back, almost every single fight between me and another member of the family, except Damian, started because I either misunderstood something someone said or took insult where none was meant, because I reacted based on instinct and emotion first instead of logic, and while I've gotten better at thinking crap through before I respond, interactions between all of us for the past year and a half have been noticeably less tense and have resulted in a lot less bloodshed. That's not all on me, and neither is it all on the Demon Spawn finally starting to get a clue."

"Alright," Steph said, the gears in her head almost visibly turning. "Putting aside you knowing years ahead of us that it was possible to start out human and end up not, what do you mean by almost every fight between you and a different family member except Damian? Are you saying the fights between you two were that different than all the others?"

He blinked at the blonde in incredulity for a moment. "Steph… Damian's from a warrior culture," he said slowly, praying he didn't need to spell it out for her. She just blinked blankly back at him and he let out a soft curse under his breath. No luck. "Out of the entire family, only four of us have been trained by the League of Assassins, and B didn't exactly keep up with the cultural practices after his stay with them. Cass may have picked up on a lot of those practices from her sperm donor and whatever other trainers he allowed her to train under, but she didn't have all of them and didn't really understand what she had picked up or how to actually apply it. I was the only one who, in Damian's eyes at the time, was cultured and spoke a familiar language. He saw me as someone who was reliable, and a part of me saw him in a similar light due to my own experiences with the League right after my resurrection. Fights with the Demon Spawn were more like training spars while fights with pretty much everyone else were basically honor duels." How has this not come up before now? Are the others just as clueless about this crap? Jason wanted to shake some common sense into some of his siblings, maybe scream a little in frustration. If the only ones who knew anything accurate about his and Damian's relationship were literally just the two of them, he was going to be so disappointed in his family…

Steph looked like she was going to say something more on the subject when Bruce and Babs entered the cave, Babs heading to the Batcomputer while Bruce walked over to the two of them.

"I had a feeling you two would still be down here. Steph, go get changed, I'll help you with your hair pins before you head out, okay?" Bruce asked. Steph gave a sloppy salute and skipped off to the changing rooms, though Jason could tell she wasn't going to let their conversation drop that easily. Bruce took a moment to watch Steph go, and Jason got back to cleaning his guns as he waited for his father Bruce to say his piece. "Are you alright, Jaylad? You usually aren't this anxious before an op, especially an information gathering one like this."

Jason finished rubbing down the last part that needed attention before quickly reassembling his guns. "At the beginning, back when the Demon Spawn first came to live with us, did any of his interactions with the family stand out as different to you?" Jason asked instead. He switched to checking his hidden ammo pouches, making sure everything was topped off. He wasn't expecting a fight tonight, but he needed something to keep his hands occupied.

A hand, scarred and familiar, caught his attention as it came to rest on his own. "I've always known yours and Damian's relationship was special to both of you. You both got each other in ways the others are still trying to understand. And yes, I'm aware a large part of that is due to your time with the League, I'm not as blind to your dealings with your siblings as you all seem to think I am," Bruce said with a chuckle. He brought his other hand up to gently raise Jason's head, making eye contact soon after. "I'm grateful you were able to give Damian a small slice of his first home when I couldn't, Jason. While I wish neither of you had ever been in the situations that lead to you both being with the League, I'm grateful those experiences were able to bring you two closer together as brothers."

He stared at Bruce in shock for a moment before clearing his throat and looking away. "Damn it, B, warn a man before you bring out the emotion talk," he said, stalwartly pretending his eyes weren't misty.

Jason saw Bruce smile out the corner of his eye as his father patted his shoulder with the hand that had been on his cheek. "My bad, sorry about that. Finish getting ready then meet by the Batcomputer for a quick briefing," he said before walking away.

As Jason finished checking his ammo pouches and slid his gloves back on, he couldn't help but smile to himself at the faint, almost tangible, warmth in his chest. Things had really changed in the past year and a half, and for the better, at that.

=============‹«⟨·•★•·⟩»›=============

Danny was both excited and nervous for what this evening would entail. He'd been obsessively going over everything he'd ever been taught about the various non-human beings that called Earth and its various pocket dimensions home in preparation for this night. He didn't know who he was meeting with first, nor did he know how many of Batman's clan he was meeting with, so he and his Fright had probably gone a bit overboard with potential lesson plans. He just wanted to give the Bats a good first lesson about their various species and the instincts and abilities that are a part of them.

He was waiting at the rooftop shrine where he met with Raven, once more sitting cross-legged about a foot above the roof. It had been almost two weeks since he and Raven had set up these lessons, and he was eager to get started. The current plan was that for the initial lessons, if everything worked out during this first one, Danny would be meeting each publicly known member of the Batclan at that exact shrine for basically what boiled down to essentially bookwork before eventually moving on to hands-on training with their current and future abilities at a different, more secure location. He had to admit, it was a pretty good system for having been developed at the drop of the hat between two beings who didn't even know each other yet.

A sudden burst of flame on the corner of the roof drew Danny's attention to Condor's arrival. Y'know, Danny thought with eyes wide with awe as the hooded form of Condor stalked out of the fire with a predatory grace, little tendrils of fire chasing after him, if we'd known Condor literally appeared in a burst of flames at times, lich would have been the last thing we thought of. It's so freaking obvious he's a phoenix that in hindsight I feel like an idiot.

The faint rustle of feathers against fabric had him turning around just in time to see Starling drop down from on top of the shrine and land in a stooped crouch, feather headdress flowing in the breeze as her head tilted ever so sightly to the side, the hood of her own costume shading her face enough to make the florescent red lenses of her full face mask stand out starkly.

"We aren't late, are we?" A soft, almost lyrical voice asked from behind Danny, brimming with power and potential but holding nothing but eagerness and nervousness. Condor's voice was most definitely masculine, but it was almost impossible to tell if it were tenor, baritone, or bass as it seemed to be all of them at once. It was captivating and bone chilling all at once.

Danny looked over his shoulder, more sure in his assumptions of the species of these two vigilantes than ever before. "Not at all, you're right on time. Shall we begin?"

=============‹«⟨·•★•·⟩»›=============

HEY EVERYONE!!! So sorry for the wait, I meant to get this chapter finished and published back in May, but, well... That obviously didn't happen (⁠^⁠～⁠^⁠;⁠)⁠ゞ also, you may have noticed something different about this part (⁠ ͡⁠°⁠ ͜⁠ʖ⁠ ͡⁠°⁠) yes, that's right, part 4 of this series has been broken into chapters!!! This will mainly come into play on AO3, as part 4 will be a multi chapter fic over there (as well as actually have a title (⁠；⁠^⁠ω⁠^⁠）) but I thought it was important to acknowledge it here, too!

[pugwitharug]

Hello! I really want to make a last legacy request, my LL OC is chubby/fat but I'm not real good to explain how the m4 would react to MC being self conscious/uncomfortable in their body.

(ignore the fact that I've had this in my inbox since literally Christmas--)

(by god I will pull myself out of my writing burnout if it's the last thing I ever do--)

Don't you worry my sweet anon, I got you covered

Content Warning: Mentions of negative body image, no specifics on what their body actually looks like

GN Reader, oof this may be really out of character but we're gonna do it anyways, some hurt and lot of comfort, the one thing all the LIs know how to do is give you love

Felix Iskandar Escellun

Felix isn't one for vanity, but he is one for the gothic aesthetic, so you bet he has one of those huge standing mirrors with the most ornate gold-leafed steel frame next to his wardrobe

It's one of the many gorgeous things in his room (not including him heheheheheheh) and it's something you find yourself staring at a lot

You normally do your best to not look at the actual mirror part, but today, your eyes seem drawn towards your body. You're not wearing anything revealing, your fashion style is more conservative by Earth's standards, but you focus a lot on the parts of your body you hate

Your own eyes feel like claws, rending bleeding wounds through your skin. Voices crawl into the back of your head. Ugly. Disgusting. Unlovable. They're hard to block out

You wrap your arms around your stomach, tears stinging the back of your eyes, and you find yourself unable to tear away from the mirror. As gorgeous as the mirror is, in this moment, you want to smash it into pieces

It's now when Felix walks in and sees you shaking in front of the mirror, the tears now starting to roll down your cheeks. He rushes over to you and pulls his cloak off, throwing it over the mirror and pulling you out of your stupor

Once he's sure the mirror is fully covered, he hugs you tightly, rubbing small circles on your back. He whispers comforting words in your ear, refuting everything the voices in your head are saying as if he can hear them himself

It's sort of true, for him. There were times where he felt disgusted by his body, feeling like he's an imposter in a dead person's body. He knows what you're feeling, and he hates that you feel that way about yourself

If he could take all those feelings out, he would. But for now, he's here to help and tell you how much he loves you

Anisa Anka

Being with Anisa has taught you that she can be strong with her opinions about you. Specifically, all the good opinions she has about you

She knows about your self-image issues, and she doesn't blame you for having them!

.....okay, that sounds a little wrong. She doesn't think that you're being dumb or irrational for having those thoughts. Your feelings are valid, and she's here to help you with that

Case in point: the two of you are doing some shopping through the town. Anisa has a free day, and the two of you just wanted to walk around town and see if anything catches your eye

You walk past a fancy dress shop and stop at the window to gawk at the newest dress. It's a gorgeous baby blue color, with white trim and pleating. It's a dress that you would die to have

As you're imagining yourself wearing the dress, your eyes flick over to your reflection in the mirror, and your dreams slowly begin to shatter. Compared to the beauty that is Anisa and the gorgeous dress, how dare you stand next to them. How dare you think you belong in the same space as them

You look away from the window and start to walk away, heart heavy with regret. Anisa notices and gently grabs your wrist, asking what's wrong

There's nothing wrong, you say. You're just ready to move on

Of course, Anisa knows you better than that. She grabs both of your hands and squeezes them comfortingly, reassuring you that those thoughts in your head? Garbage. And you know where they belong? In the trash, out of your fantastic brain and gorgeous body

And by the gods, she's gonna see you in that dress, and she's gonna see you smile

Sage Lesath

Sage never really had body image issues, to be honest. All of the negative feelings he's had about himself are about his actual self, not about his physical body. That being said, he absolutely understand having those negative thoughts about yourself

One of the main ways those negative thoughts materialize in real life is that you always wear pajamas to go to sleep. Full pants and mostly long-sleeve shirts, only wearing short-sleeves if it's really hot. It's in large contrast to Sage's underwear-only sleep style

He's asked a couple times if you ever wanted to try something like a nightgown or wearing shorts, but you've always turned them down. Since it was clear you weren't comfortable with those ideas, he's left you and your sleepwear choices be

One night, you're both getting ready to sleep. He's taking off his clothes, you're putting yours on--or, at least, you're trying to. For some reason, you can't find your last clean pair of pajamas

Did you accidentally put it in the dirty laundry? You rifle through the dirty clothes, scrunching up your nose a little, but you can't find them

Were they shoved into the back of the closet? You get on your tiptoes and feel all against the wooden back, but you can't feel them

At this point, you start to get a little frantic. You need those pajamas. You can't just sleep without them. If you don't, you'll feel your body, Sage will feel your body. Your actual body, your actual skin. Oh, how disgusted he will be

Sage asks you what's wrong, and you try to collect yourself and explain that you can't find your pajamas, but you can't stop the tears from coming and your voice from breaking. Your arms instinctively wrap around yourself, trying to hide from his worried view

He reaches out and pulls you up against him, tucking your head into the crook of his neck. His soft hair tickles your nose as he whispers reassurances in your ear

He doesn't entirely understand how you can hate such a gorgeous and divine body like yours, but he's here for you nonetheless. Whatever you want him to do to make you comfortable, he will do it, and he will show you his love in his own way

Mainly through worship. He's a worshipper. We all know this

Rime Solano Varela

I'm gonna be honest, I don't think he really cares about your body like that. He cares about you, of course, but he doesn't give that much thought into what you look like. He's more interested in who you are as a person

Even so, he does understand wanting to feel comfortable in your own skin. He wears what he does because it gives the small sensation of being comfortable, and so he wants that for you too

One day, you're doing some spring cleaning around the house and are clearing out your shared closet. You're pulling out your clothes that you don't wear anymore to put in a donate pile to give it to people less fortunate than you

You're separating your Astraea-bought clothes from your Earth-bought clothes, not entirely sure if you can give away your Earth clothes, when your eyes catch one of the tags on your shirt. There's at least three letters on there, and most of them are X's

You look at all of your Earth shirts. All of them say the same thing. All of them have those damn X's and L's. No M's or S's in sight

Compared to Rime's clothes, which better fit his smaller body, yours look...grotesque. They clearly don't belong here. You clearly don't belong here

You grab all your clothes and throw them as far as you can in a fit of rage that fizzles out into sadness. You stand there, shaking, eyes welling up with tears, stuck where you are with the voices in the back of your head

Hearing the commotion, Rime comes in to check on you. Seeing the clothes strewn about, you standing still in the middle of the room, and knowing your struggles with your body image, it isn't hard for him to piece together what happened

He says your name as he walks over to you, and you don't even get to look over at him before he claps both his hands on your cheeks. As you're trying to recover from the shock, he starts talking

He really doesn't give a shit about what you look like, or what clothes you wear. They're insignificant. Literally just pieces of fabric. The only thing he cares about is you, and you need to start doing that too

His normally icy expression softens as he takes a deep breath, trying to switch gears a little. He just wants you to be comfortable in your own body, and he knows it's easier said than done, but he wants to help you

So let's not focus on what you have and go get something you like, okay? He doesn't know how much longer he can stand seeing you look at yourself like that

[aheathen-conceivably]

Zelda and Antoine were sitting in their bedroom, not a word spoken between them as Zelda wiped the blood from his face; the brightening bruises told her that his injuries would only be worse by the morning.

To cut through the pained silence Antoine asked her if she was alright. Zelda tried to muster a small smile as she looked back at him, still too shaken to answer truthfully, “I’m alright, Antoine. Its you that I’m worried about. Your nose…I’m afraid it’s broken…”

He looked down and shook his head, as though a broken nose was the least of his concerns, "I never wanted you to see that, Zelda. It’s been years since I’ve snapped on someone…but when I saw him grab you…I just…I lost control. This is bad, Zelda, real bad. That man was white. Do you understand? That means the police are going to come for me.”

Zelda lowered her voice and looked him directly in the eyes, “I know, Antoine. A few of the men in the crowd brought him to the station before he was even fully conscious. Josephine and Giorgio are there too. I just spoke with them on the phone; Giorgio has a few connections on the force and he says he’s trying to get them to sweep it under the rug but…he’s not confident they’ll listen.”

“Hell…” Antoine cursed under his breath, his fears barely encapsulated in that one word.

“Drink this, please” Zelda implored, holding out a small bottle of medicine, “your skull is going to feel like it’s splitting open tomorrow.”

Unwilling to think anymore, Antoine happily obliged. He placed his forehead on Zelda’s and let her take him to bed, knowing that in only a few moments the laudanum would render him completely immobile.

Moments after Antoine was asleep, his snores only heightened by the syrup that he took for the pain, Zelda snuck out of their bedroom into Violette’s nursery.

She crept through the door so as not to wake her, and looked down at her daughter sadly. Then she reached her hand into the crib and smoothed down a stray curl that had escaped her bonnet. Almost silently Zelda whispered, “Your father and I will protect you, my love. We’ll protect you from all that is bad and ugly in this world, I promise.”

Then said it again and again, almost as if it were a prayer that she could make true through repetition and desperate conviction. Zelda knelt down next to the crib, still repeating the same promise, the same prayer, simply to convince herself that it was possible at all.

[sparatus]

Kicks down door

Any ship, you know my faves of yours. #20. Pls

kiss prompts

well. you did go insane for absolution. so here we go

20. on a scar - Garrus/Citadel DLC Turian, no-Reapers AU

>>[Read on AO3]<<

He's dreaming, he thinks, when he wakes up to blurry emptiness. No gunfire, no engines, no screaming. No Sidonis. Just peaceful silence. The world around him is shades of white, blobs of mass he can't fully process. He sees the shadows more than he sees whatever's making them. It's warm, but not too warm, and he's lying on something firm but soft.

His face hurts. Everything hurts, but especially his face, and his neck, and his cowl. His nerves can't even tell him what's wrong, there's so much pain. Shattered and set on fire and pulled apart, all at once. It can't be a dream, not if he hurts this much. A pitiful, guttural groan crawls out of the raw wound where his throat used to be and punctures the silence.

Immediately, the shadows move, a blur of white and green rushing to his side. "Shh, shh," a familiar voice soothes, but she's muffled, far away, and he just groans again. "Shh, Garrus, I'm here, I'm with you, you're safe."

Glittering gold laces down through the white as the blur kneels down. Curried telal and flowers just barely masking days of unwashed stress and fear tickle his nose, the first clear sensation he's gotten, and he sucks in a greedy breath, drinking her in like her scent alone will wash everything away. He can only taste her on one side of his tongue.

A shaking hand touches his crest, close to where his head lies on the pillow, not daring to approach the burning field. "Spirits, Blue, you had me scared shitless," she breathes.

Her subvocals are wobbly, like she'd lost the ability to weep days ago but still has emotion left to shed. She still sounds underwater. He whimpers and tugs on the stiff, angry muscles under his jaw, but the skin erupts in pain again, and he can only gasp. She trills alarm, and her other hand finds his, twines their fingers and squeezes tight. "Hey, hey, shh, don't- Here, just a moment..."

More shadows, something beeped, and cooling water flowed through his veins to wash over the wounds. "There, Blue, morphine." The murmur laps against him, but he can barely feel it. All is quiet. There's gold ribbons in front of him again. His breath leaves his lungs in a wheezy sigh, and she leans in until he can see the sapphires between the gold. "Shh, baby, it's alright. I'm here." Another squeeze on his hand. "I'm here."

His heart aches in his chest, and his lungs crackle as he inhales. "Where..?"

"Citadel." The hand on his crest keeps stroking, keeps smoothing away the nightmares he's been drowning in. "Nihlus brought you and his mom to Dren'kewen for emergency treatment. Dr. Samaritus doesn't think you'd've survived otherwise."

She's quiet, so quiet. His eyes strain to focus, but the image won't turn clear. Sapphires hang in loops of beautiful gold. "Shepard..?"

The sapphires vanish, and the blur shakes back and forth slowly. "Still out in Terminus. It's classified beyond that." Her thumb-claw delicately traces a crack in his brow plate. "Don't worry about them. You need to focus on healing."

His chest is heavy, and his heart just sinks deeper into it. How can he just not worry about them, when he's the reason they were in danger at all? "What about..?"

"Shhh." She leans in again, and he closes his eyes. Maybe when he opens them again, he'll be able to see again. "You're lucky you still have a skull, Blue." Tentative fingers brush over the tender flesh that used to be on fire. When he doesn't flinch, they're replaced by mouth plates, just barely there, not daring to kiss him too hard in case he shatters again. "Nihlus will explain once you're a little more conscious. Go back to sleep."

His heart climbs into his throat again, but her hand still holding his keeps it from rising any further. "I'm right here."

[h8fuckk]

open starter | cw torture, cw blood, setting; goblin camp

Blade-like claws gleam under the dim torchlight, stained crimson as they drag slowly through the flesh of the man before her. He's trembling, barely conscious, a ragged mess of broken screams and wheezing breaths strapped upright like some grotesque painting. His blood paints the ground in erratic splatters, and each shallow whimper from his lips makes the corners of the devil’s plump lips curl higher. She digs in deeper, savoring the moment as his skin splits beneath her touch. Hurting men——breaking them down until they're nothing but ruined, quivering things——is a joy she never tires of.

❛ Come on, baby, ❜ she coos, her voice a low purr. ❛ Tell me where the Grove is, and I might just let ya keep your tongue. ❜ She grins, too gleefully, baring her fangs, fully knowing it's a lie. Minthara's orders were clear, but Nepharia's not one for following them to the letter. She's having too much fun.

But then it happens——like the snap of a cord in her mind. Suddenly, the world around her shifts. The Absolute's voice, which had been an ever-present, silken whisper threading through her thoughts, vanishes, leaving an unsettling silence in its place. Her head jerks back, confusion flickering across her pale features as if a veil has been yanked from her eyes.

What the fuck just happened?

Her fingers twitch, claws frozen mid-slice as she straightens, glowing white eyes narrowing. The man before her is forgotten for a moment——his mangled sobs fade into the background. She turns, scanning the temple, searching for something, someone. And that's when she sees them: a figure approaching with companions in tow. Recognition strikes her like a thunderclap. She knows them. The nautiloid. They were there.

Her demonic eyes widen for a heartbeat, then narrow to slits. The sensation inside her skull——the tendril of connection, the tadpole writhing between her thoughts and theirs——it feels like worms are slithering behind her eyes. ❛ You... ❜ Her voice is low, almost a hiss, and she takes a step toward them, her wings half-unfurling behind her in agitation, a ripple of power and anger seething beneath her skin. You did this.

Something isn't right.

She wouldn't have stayed here, in this filthy camp, surrounded by disgusting goblins, helping Minthara with her pathetic torture games. She's supposed to be in Baldur's Gate, hunting down Gortash, not groveling at the feet of some insipid goddess who dared to crawl inside her head. The realization churns her stomach, a vile mix of disgust and rage. Her lips twist into a bitter snarl. She's been used again——manipulated, controlled, like a fucking puppet. It feels all too familiar, like the brothel, like the chains that had once bound her. Autonomy ripped from her, just as it was back then.

Nepharia's jaw clenches, her claws flexing dangerously as she locks eyes with the one from the nautiloid. ❛ What in all the hells is this?" she spits, voice dripping with venom, though there's a barely restrained tremor of confusion beneath the malice. ❛ What the fuck did you do to—❜ she cuts herself off, a bitter laugh tearing from her throat as she realizes that they are likely just victims in this too. But not thralls. And now, neither is she. ❛ No… it's not you, is it? It's this thing. ❜ She taps a bloodied, still dripping claw to her temple, eyes flashing. ❛ This fucking… worm thing. Tell me how to fix it before I rip your godsdamned throat out for fun. I have places I need to be, far away from this…❜ a pause as she takes another look at her surroundings, disgust written all over her abyssal-marked expression. Brainwashing is the only explanation for how she stayed here for this long, ❛…vile fucking place, ugh. ❜

[veariy]

"Come here, little bun...let me show you what the world is really like outside the Woods..." ~ Zori

Zori's Musings Part 1

He sighed softly as the drawer closed to his desk, papers ruffled in his hands. Zori leaned back, the chair creaking as he did so. He tsked and reminded himself to replace the old thing once more. Long legs swung up onto the desk, the solid wood beneath thumping as he rested his boots, one crossed over the other. 

The papers were laid in front of him, forgotten for a moment. A job he’d been asked to do, insignificant in comparison to his current predicament. Well, to him, at least.

Zori closed his eyes and placed a hand over them, the light disappearing and plunging him into the darkness he felt most comfortable in.

She wouldn’t leave his conscious, dancing as she did through his every thought. She’d come into his life like a whirlwind months ago. Fresh out of the woods, naive to the world outside. Emotionally injured from the unjust treatment she’d received from those who should have protected her. He growled softly as he remembered her tale. The very notion that man would have…he stopped himself. Zori swung his legs back down and sat forward, face falling into his hands. White hair-tinged teal blue brushed his fingertips.

He shouldn’t care this much. She should just be another client. Another person drifting through the endless mess that was his life. 

But he did. 

He cared, and with every day that went by, it increased incrementally more. She was strong, loving, funny, and compassionate. Even with everything she’d been through. Things a weaker soul would have let destroy them. Yet she pushed on. 

She didn’t fully trust him yet; he understood that. Her past made her wary of any Viera males, whether they were outcasts or not. He looked up and templed his fingers, resting his chin on them. 

He’d win her over. 

He had to. At this point, he didn’t have another choice. She’d wound herself entirely around his soul, heart, and mind. Zori smirked; she didn’t even realize what she’d done, oblivious to any flirting or affection.

He’d tried; oh, he had tried. But every time, she’d look at him like he was insane and laugh innocently, thinking he was joking. She couldn’t grasp the idea that someone would love her as she was. 

He paused, his silvery white eyes narrowing. What had just leaped to the forefront, that word. The word he swore he’d never use after his previous relationship had ended. He’d been used and tossed aside. It had never been real, at least, from that- he stopped that train of thought. This time was different. He could tell she was sincere. There was something about her, the way she talked and acted around others. He knew in the depths of his being that she would never betray those she cared for. 

He chuckled softly in remembrance. Lo to those who betrayed her first. He’d seen what happened when someone threatened her or anyone she’d adopted as her sudo family. They earned the tip of her exceptionally sharp scythe. 

She was incredible.

Zori shook his head and stood, hands placed firmly on the desk. Papers still laid where he’d put them initially. He needed to focus, this job needed to be done if they wanted more Gil flowing in. As he was about to begin reading through the brief, the door to his office slammed open, and a small figure rushed in.

Black hair tipped with white that shone with a dark purple hue waved around her. Fiery violet eyes glowed softly with emotions deep within, and her lips were turned upward in a smirk. Delicate hands were placed on her hips, and she raised a soft brow. 

By the Twelve, she was beautiful and didn’t even see it. 

He stood straight, towering over her unusually petite frame for a Viera female. Zori crossed his arms over his chest and tilted his head. 

“Vea, to what do I owe the pleasure, small one?” He teased her, an act that was quickly becoming his favorite pastime. 

She frowned then and narrowed her eyes. She could never quite pull off threatening with him, but he’d die before telling her that. 

“I’ll let that slide for now, as I have more pressing matters to attend to.” She shook her head softly and looked back up at him.

“Oh? And what would that be?” His tone didn’t change, still teasing.

She huffed and let her arms drop in exasperation. “I require your blade. I’ll explain on the way. Come on.” She whipped around, and out the door she went. 

He stood there for a moment in a daze. It was always like this. Of course, he’d never said no, and she’d grown used to him following her. 

Zori shrugged and smirked as he walked around his desk to grab his blade propped up by the door.

“Oh, my little Vea, you’ll be the death of me someday.” He chuckled and ran after her disappearing form.

[usermischief]

♞Pairing: Steo ♞Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Theo Raeken, Kira Yukimura, Matt Daehler, Isaac Lahey, Sheriff Stilinski ♞Tags: firefighter Stiles, paramedic Theo, reckless Stiles, secret relationship (kind of) ♞Words: 3818 ♞ for @steodiscord April Prompt - First Responders

ao3

---

heat of the moment

“The building is unstable,” Isaac informs them over the radio, “get your asses out of there.”

Stiles glances at Matt, who briefly nods in his direction before hurrying downstairs. The last few apartments they checked were empty, meaning the whole building should be cleared by now. Stiles rushes down the flight of stairs as well. As much as he loved to finally be back on active duty, he can’t wait to get out of this gear and the heat. 

Outside, the scene is less chaotic. Police are dealing with bystanders. Stiles can make out Theo talking to a group of people who live in the apartment complex, probably checking for injuries while Kira is dealing with a teenager who’s just getting conscious again. Stiles spots the gash on his forehead and the familiar yellow shirt. It’s the kid he got out ten minutes ago — and he doesn’t seem to be happy about being treated. Kira looks ready to pin his hands down. 

Stiles jogs over to them, fully aware of the panic that sets in waking up during or after a life-threatening situation. It’s not fun. Not fun at all. He jogs passed his dad exchanging information with Deputy Jordan Parrish. “Hey,” he says, pulling his helmet off. “You need any help?” Although Stiles is a firefighter first, he’s qualified to act as a paramedic as well. His position as a firefighter-medic helped enormously during the transfer to his dad’s firehouse after leaving New York. Nobody could argue he only got the job because of his dad — one of the reasons he initially declined to work in Beacon Hills. But with all his friends in Beacoun County, and Liam being alone for most days, he returned. 

He doesn’t regret this decision for a multitude of reasons even though he’s never been fucking shot during his five years in New York. 

“Please, Simon.” Kira sounds exasperated despite the reassuring smile on her face. “Let me check—”

The teenager jumps to his feet, swaying precariously. “No, I have to—” He stumbles back onto the gurney. This time, Kira is pushing him down with a bit more force. “Lisa is still in there.”

Stiles stiffens, ignoring the look of alarm crossing his best friend’s features. “Who’s Lisa?” He remembers getting the kid out of the building. Seventh floor. It’s a small apartment on this side of the building. Two bedrooms. A tiny living room, the kitchen in the hallway. One Stiles has never walked through, probably the bathroom. It would be quick to check it. The apartment isn’t the issue. It’s on the seventh floor. So, he’s not going to rush up there for a pet. His dad would kill him. 

The boy looks up at him, ghostly pale, eyes white, a trickle of blood running down the side of his face. “My little sister.”

Stiles turns on his heels. Seventh floor. He can do that. He’s fast enough to get up there.

“No, Stiles. Wait!” Kira yells, but she’s not running after him. It’s too risky to leave Simon alone. He might do something stupid and get killed in the process. 

But Stiles is a professional. He has a license for stupid decisions. His heart slams against his ribs as he pulls on his helmet and checks his gear on autopilot. His dad is going to kill him either way. Stiles pinches his brows, gradually getting faster as he checks the apartment he knows the little girl has to be in. Yeah. He’ll get up there no problem. He’ll also have enough time to check the apartment for Simon’s sister. It’s getting back down that will be the issue.

“Stiles?” Theo’s voice rings out like a shot in utter silence despite all that noise surrounding them. “Stiles, what the hell are you doing?” There’s panic slipping into his voice, panic Stiles heard months ago when the stray bullet pierced his chest, missing his heart by a couple of inches. 

“I need a rescue air cushion,” Stiles calls into the radio as he enters the burning building again. “I’m headed to the seventh floor, third window from the left.” 

“Turn back!” That’s his dad’s voice. 

Stiles is so dead. “Can’t, Cap. There’s still a kid in there.”

Silence follows his words as heavy and uncomfortable as the hot air surrounding him.The sweltering heat wraps around him like a vise, squeezing the life out of every breath he takes. They can despise his choices all they want, but deep down, they know he won't turn his back on a child. They’re all aware of why he chose to become a firefighter when all he ever dreamed of used to be becoming an FBI profiler. But being saved himself, it changed his perspective. He decided that he didn’t want to help the dead, he wanted to save the living — and that’s what he is going to do right now. 

And his team might not like it, but his dad starts bellowing commands, and Stiles knows that everything will be perfectly fine. His mission is simple: reach the seventh floor, find Lisa, and get her out safely.

He rushes upstairs with a purpose, but the ground beneath his feet quakes with uncertainty. Every step he takes feels like it might be his last. The building is a lot more unstable than he thought. But he reaches the apartment in one piece and takes a look inside. Flames flicker and dance on the walls within, threatening to swallow him whole. He will have to tread carefully, but he still has to be fast. There will be no saving this place, and there will be no saving Lisa if he doesn’t get into this apartment. 

Stiles inhales deeply, the heat pressing down on him like a thousand pound weight. He braces himself and bursts through the open door.“Lisa!” He’s surveying the hallway, trying to assess where she might hide out. While Stiles found her brother in the living room, Matt checked the bathroom. Stiles can’t believe he misses a fucking child. However, there aren’t too many places to hide in a two-bedroom apartment of this size. “What the hell, Matt?” Stiles breathes, venturing deeper into the hallway. The flames haven’t reached the kitchen area yet, but there’s not a lot of time left before this place becomes a death trap. 

“Lisa?”

“Stiles,” Isaac’s voice crackles through the radio, “the stairs on the first floor just collapsed, you have to—”

A crash from somewhere above him cuts Isaac off. It makes the ground Stiles is standing on rumble. Stiles swallows heavily as he watches the lamp swing above him. That’s not good. That’s a fucking problem. He tries his best to stay calm, but the nerves start to creep up on him. If he doesn’t find Lisa soon— no, no. That’s not the road he’ll allow his thoughts to rush down. It’s going to be fine. So far, he hasn't lost someone in a burning building. This is not going to be his first time. 

“That was the fucking roof,” Theo bellows, panic, and anger making his voice almost sound unrecognizable through the radio. “Get out of there now.”

“Two minutes,” Stiles replies.

“No!” Theo yells, “get out now.”

But Stiles hardly hears his words because a door opens to his right and a red-haired girl looks at him. The bathroom. Matt fucking missed her in the bathroom. “Lisa?” Stiles asks, trying to stifle his anger, and offers her his hand. “Your brother sent me. I’m here to help.”

Lisa hesitates, and Stiles barely resists the urge to grab her. Dealing with a screaming and kicking eight-year-old isn’t exactly high on his agenda while the house is burning down around them. But the girl is just standing there, sobbing silently. 

Fuck. 

They don’t have time to discuss this. Without hesitating any longer, he rushes forward and hoists the girl into his arms. This seems to startle her out of whatever trance she’s been in. Sobbing hysterically now, she wraps her arms and legs around him. Stiles curls one arm around her waist and rushes back to the living room.

It’s a lot hotter now, the flames are lashing out, making their way deeper into the hallway. They’ve reached the kitchen now, and Stiles really doesn’t want to be in here when they reach the gas stove. 

“We’re on our way,” Stiles radios before turning to Lisa again. “I need you to hold on as tightly as you can, okay?” The lack of a harness could pose a problem, but there’s no way she’ll jump by herself. Stiles hadn’t done it either all those years ago. He’d clung to a stranger like a lifeline. 

Today, he is going to be that lifeline. 

The heat is getting worse by the second now, and Stiles knows they’re going to lose even more time once he opens this window. But it’s their only way out. So, he does it, feeling the rush of cool air despite his heavy gear. The fire is going to love it as well. “Hold on,” he repeats, smiling a little when Lisa’s grip on him instantly tightens. “That’s the spirit.” Stiles pats her shoulder softly with his free hand before grabbing onto the window frame. 

Theo yells something from the ground the second he pokes his head out of the window. 

Stiles has zero doubt that Theo will be even more pissed with him than his dad, which would suck since they’ve just started dating a couple of months ago. He seriously likes Theo, even thinking about them not talking is a more terrifying prospect than running back into a burning building to save a kid. 

It probably says something about him. 

It’s not easy to get out of the window with only one hand, no harness, and an eight-year-old girl clinging to him. Stiles didn’t exactly think this through, but he finds himself outside the building with semi-secure footing either way. Still, he could have made it so much easier on himself. “Close your eyes,” Stiles says softly, turning his back to the crowd. His fingers hook around the window frame. 

“It’s time now,” his dad informs him not without urgency in his tone. 

Stiles nods resolutely, steeling himself for what's to come. He lives and breathes this job, but he knows that falling is the one thing he can never get used to. He inhales deeply, trying to calm the rising tide of panic as he edges away from the building, clutching the girl tightly to his chest. His heart hammers in his chest and his stomach twists. Stiles closes his eyes, trying to ignore the fact that he’s about to fall from the seventh floor, trying to ignore the persistent voice in the back of his head.

With a sudden jolt, he feels himself plummeting towards the rescue cushion far below. The wind whips past his face as they hurtle through the cold air, his grip on the girl unyielding. Stiles squeezes his eyes shut, and his mind races with all the things that could go wrong. But then they hit the cushion, and it feels like landing on a cloud. The sound of muffled cheers reaches his ears, and he scowls slightly. As heroic as all of their actions seem, Stiles hates people sensationalising it. He doesn’t want to think about the phones pointing in their reaction, filming not only him but Lisa — and that’s what annoys him the most. She doesn’t need to relive one of her worst moments on the news or the internet. Stiles remembers how much it fucked with him when he watched himself getting shot. 

Releasing the girl, he watches as Kira takes over, guiding her to safety. Stiles can't help but feel a pang of sympathy for the little girl; she seemed so distrustful of firefighters, perhaps due to the abandonment she felt when Matt left her behind. Nonetheless, she's safe now, and that's all that matters.

Stiles rolls off the cushion and pulls his helmet off. The second his feet hit the floor, he finds himself confronted by his father and Theo. Both are more than furious. “Don’t,” Stiles mutters, raising both of his hands in defense, “if you wanna blame someone—” he cuts off, sighing. It feels wrong to blame Matt even though he very clearly missed her inside the bathroom. It’s a stressful job. Maybe she hid really well. 

Then again, why would you hide from a fire? 

“Truck,” his dad orders, “now.” 

Stiles glances at Theo, but he merely shakes his head and turns away. Defeated, he turns towards the firetruck. He probably deserves it. 

— — — 

“Are you good?”

Stiles studies Matt over his plate of pasta. “Well, I haven’t been yelled at so much since I ran away from home for an hour when I was a kid.” To be fair, that was when he learned he’d be a big brother, and every fiber of his nine-year-old body very much hated that idea. Now, he couldn’t imagine a life without Liam — or Theo, that is, who still hasn’t said a single word to him since the incident. But he’s been talking to Stiles’ dad for the most part, so those two are probably scheming; and that’s not going to bode well for him. 

Matt shrugs. “You did your job.” 

“I wouldn’t have had to do it,” Stiles snaps, narrowing his eyes slightly at Matt’s nonchalant tone, “if you had done yours. How the fuck do you miss an eight-year-old girl, dude?” 

A shadow crosses Matt’s face, proving once again that he’s not one for criticism, and Stiles isn’t usually one to criticize anybody’s job performance. Still, he missed Lisa. If her brother hadn’t woken up, she would have burned to death in her bathroom, wondering why the people who are supposed to save her turned their back on her. Matt grimaces and shrugs. “You haven’t been back long, I was—”

“I’m not your responsibility.” Stiles pushes his pasta away from him with a huff and glances around the firehouse, catching sight of Theo and Kira going through their ambulance together. Maybe he should talk to Theo, explain why he did it, and apologize. He doesn’t want this relationship to end before it really starts. They deserve this shot despite Stiles being an idiot about this, despite his dad not enjoying romance in the same team. They can make this work, even if they won’t stay together. 

“Stiles.”

“I’m sorry,” he whips his head around, staring at Matt in confusion, “did you say something?” 

Matt’s jaw tightens for all but a second, then he smiles again, but something about it almost seems wrong, out of place. “I’ve asked how I can make it up to you.” His voice is a little too smooth like he’s hiding something.

Stiles glances around the dining area, suddenly feeling nervous. A feeling that’s amplified by noticing Isaac having hurried downstairs at one point. It’s odd. He’s never felt nervous around Matt before, not even during the time he came over frequently. Something seems different today, and it makes Stiles more nervous than he’d like to admit. “Just do your job the next time. I don’t need you to watch out for me.” 

Matt’s lips twitch, but his smile remains steady for the most part. “I think you misunderstood my question.” He sounds almost patronizing in a way, which is new. Matt, like the rest of his team, has come over while Stiles was recovering from being shot. Sure, he’s always been a little too nice, and there’s always been something Stiles couldn’t place, but this? This is just straight-up a completely new side to him. 

Crossing his arms, Stiles fixes Matt with furrowed brows. “I… I think you gotta elaborate.” 

Another twitch of his lips. It’s almost impossible to tell if Matt is angry or amused. He leans forward, folding his hands on the table.”You had to go back up because of me,” Matt explains, drawing his brows together. “I should make it up to you, especially considering our relationship.” 

Stiles crosses his arms and leans back in his chair. “Our relationship?” They’re co-workers. Sure, they’re friendly and all that, but it’s not Matt he calls when he wants to hang out. He calls Kira and Isaac, he calls his friends outside of work. He calls Theo. While Stiles does appreciate Matt coming around during his recovery, it doesn’t really change the fact that they are only co-workers. They’re just on the same wavelength. 

Matt’s smile falls from his face. “Yes, our relationship. I’ve cared for you for months. I—”

“Dude,” Stiles cuts him off, trying his best not to laugh. “I didn’t ask you to do that.” 

“You didn’t have to!” Matt slams his hands on the table, a sharp sound that travels fast through the firehouse. “Because I’m—”

“Can I help you?” Theo has appeared behind Matt, arms crossed and lips curled into a tight line. A pissed-off Theo isn’t the most pleasant person to have around. Even Stiles prefers staying away from him when he’s in a terrible mood. 

Matt turns around. “No, this is a private conversation between me and—” 

“My boyfriends,” Theo cuts in, clearly out of patience despite sounding entirely too calm. “So, I ask you again. Can I help you?”

Stiles stares at Theo, mouth parted and eyes wide. Boyfriend. When the fuck did that happen between this morning, Theo not talking to him, and now? They’ve missed a few steps along the way. Not that he’s complaining. He’s just very confused. 

“What do you mean, boyfriend?” Matt is standing now, looking back and forth between them. 

Stiles doesn’t look away from Theo. “It means I’m dating Theo exclusively.” 

“It means I fucked him after you left his apartment, hoping Stiles would as much as hold your hand,” Theo’s cold voice fits the crude statement. 

Although Stiles hates this side of Theo more than anything, he bites back any comment if only to get Matt off his case. 

But Matt still doesn’t budge. “So, the last few months…”

“Were all in your head,” Theo sounds more and more pissed with every passing second. “Don’t you get it? He’s not that into you. So, move.” Theo uncrosses his arms and takes a single step closer. “Or I’ll move you.” Although he’s not taller than Matt, everyone here knows exactly who’d win this fight. 

Even Matt. He turns to Stiles, shame, and anger clearly written all over his face. “Thanks for leading me on, Stilinski,” he spits and stalks off, brushing past a couple of irritated firefighters in the process. 

Stiles crosses his arms over the table, tapping his fingers against the wood. “Talk about me like that again, and you’ll fuck yourself for a few months.” Stiles doubts he’d even make it a week, but he needs to set some boundaries, especially now that their relationship has been upgraded from kind of dating to boyfriends. 

Since Theo has the decency to look apologetic, Stiles guesses his message was received. Then he takes a deep breath and sets his jaw. “Don’t do it again,” Theo says, pulling Stiles' leftover pasta towards him as he plops down on the now empty chair. He doesn’t eat it, however, merely pokes it with the fork a couple of times. 

Furrowing his brows, Stiles watches him. There’s gotta be something else. There’s no way Theo just came over to mark his territory and let bygones be bygones. “Spit it out.” 

Theo’s bright blue eyes lock with his own. “Don’t ever run into an unstable building again.” 

There it is. Stiles lets out a breath. “I was doing—”

“You were being reckless,” Theo interrupts him sharply, “and I get it. You thought about Liam, but, babe.” He reaches over the table, and Stiles takes his hand, unable to hide the smile when Theo intertwines their fingers before he continues, “Our job is saving people, and I know you will never be the person who thinks before he acts. I’ve accepted that, but it doesn’t mean I have to like it.” Theo squeezes his hand. “Or that I have to understand it. But if something had happened to you today, you and Lisa would have been dead.” 

Stiles swallows around the lump in his throat. “If I hadn’t gone in—”

“It’s not about that,” Theo cuts in again, voice quivering for all but a second. “You didn’t even give us a chance to think about a way to save her. We could’ve used the ladder truck.” But that wouldn’t have worked, the ladder is long enough. They both know it even though nobody says it out loud. “You could’ve climbed down from the neighboring building.” 

Stiles grimaces. “That… that could have worked.” The buildings shared a wall. It would have been the safest solution. Stiles would have been in and out in no time. He would have had a harness. 

Despite his earlier mood, Theo chuckles. “I’m well aware of the risks, but I cannot lose you to your own stupidity.”

Ouch. Also, very rude. However, Stiles can’t argue with Theo on this. He’s very much correct. If anything is going to kill him, it’s not a stray bullet, apparently, but running headless into unstable burning buildings. “You won’t,” he says, although they both know Stiles probably won’t change anytime soon. But he wouldn’t be surprised if his dad switched the team around, so Stiles goes in with Isaac, who is not above throwing Stiles over his shoulder and carrying him out. 

“No, I won’t,” Theo agrees, placing his free hand on top of Stiles’, “because I’m going to become a firefighter-medic as well. Matt is useless, and that way I can make sure you’re not doing anything stupid.” He raises his brows, almost as if he’s expecting complaints. “I’ve already talked to Cap.” 

Stiles knew they were planning something. That probably also explained why his dad did not continue yelling at Stiles after the first time Theo spoke to him. Looks like his dear boyfriend is already saving his life long before he’s running into danger with him. Stiles pulls Theo’s hand to his mouth and kisses his knuckles. “I can’t wait to run into unstable buildings with you by my side.” And he means it. They may not be dating for long, hell, they’re hardly working together for a year, but Stiles trusts Theo with his life. The only person he trusts more is his dad. 

Theo shoots him a look. “Don’t push it, Stilinski.” 

“I’m sorry,” Stiles whispers against the back of Theo’s hand before detangling their fingers to hook his pinkie around Theo’s. “I really am, and I promise I’m trying to be better.” 

“Just—” but whatever Theo meant to say is swallowed by the wailing of the sirens. 

They both glance at each other. Stiles kisses Theo’s knuckles once again before jumping to his feet, rushing towards their next job.

[blake-elladonna]

Hello! I noticed you taking requests and wanted to ask if you can do Atsushi with a fem!s/o who shares his beast ability by turning into a wolf instead? Just something cute and fluffy!

If not then Atsushi with a petite s/o who is self conscious about her tiny height ;;w;; whichever you are comfortable with 😊 I appreciate your time!

@alphaofdarkness

Hi! Thank you so much for these requests, Alpha! This is the 1st of your two requests; but the 2nd will be out soon. 🤍 I hope you enjoy both of them! This idea took a turn and it didn’t turn out entirely fluffy but it has its cute moments that I feel were worth the buildup! Enjoy!

Blue moon

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐀𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐢 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟓𝟔𝟖

𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞: 𝟐 𝐦𝐢𝐧. 𝟒𝟔 𝐬𝐞𝐜.

𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: Atsushi heard there was an ability user with an ability similar to his — one who could turn into a wolf at the touch of moonlight. The one who bore this ability was You — the Fem!Reader.

Atsushi panted heavily, “I think I can catch up to them!” He looked back towards Kunikida; he looked exhausted.

He might have begged Kunikida to an alleyway this late for nothing, but if it wasn’t — Atsushi couldn’t take that chance. “Alright, go.” Kunikida permitted, his tone just as unsteady.

Atsushi’s legs burned; diagonal black stripes embedding the white fur on his limbs. “Just don’t do anything stupid!” He yelled after him. But Kunikida didn’t understand. He has to do whatever it takes to save them; like Dazai saved him that day.

When Atsushi turned the corner, relief washed over him. “Hey!”

The canine’s eyes dashed to his; their head lowered to the ground. “Hey, it’s okay.” Atsushi caught himself off guard; his arms and legs were lightening in weight. What was happening to him? He was in front of a fully grown wolf, yet his sympathy overtook his terror. Why?

But when the wolf stretched back their jaw, their sharp fangs peeking out from underneath their gums in a growl, panic set in. “Hey — Hey! Listen to me! We don’t have to do this!” Atsushi’s hands waved in front of him with the cloth of his long sleeves waving back and forth. “I’m from the Armed Detective Agency! You — You might not be able to understand me but — but you have to trust me, okay?!”

But the wolf pounced, and Atsushi shielded his face and upper body with his forearms, tensing in anticipation.

“I told you not to do anything stupid, didn’t I? “Huh?” Atsushi peeked his head out and blinked a few times as he looked to his right, “K—Kunikida!”

“I knew it was a mistake to send you ahead.” “What did I tell you? I’m never wrong about these things.” Atsushi turned the opposite direction. “D—Dazai?”

Dazai sighed and tilted his head to the side. “Haven’t we taught you better than this, Atsushi? You’re going to get yourself killed.”

“But I thought—” Atsushi’s body turned rigged lowering his gaze, the once wolf — was a girl. Their frail body limp across Dazai’s forearm.

“So it was true! Are— Are they—” “—They’re fine.” The lack of empathy in his mentors voice lit a match inside of him. He helped Dazai lower her to the ground and then kneeled beside her, holding his hand underneath her head until her eyes squinted and opened.

“Hi,” Atsushi’s voice was softer and gentler than a feather; something he never knew was capable. “My name is Atsushi, and we’re from the Armed Detective Agency. Welcome home.���

“So you’re admitting it! You did have a crush on me that night when we first met!” Her words stiffened his body and a blush painted across Atsushi’s face. “I was just — just being considerate that’s all!” “Considerate, huh?” She giggled with a smile that warmed his heart more than the first day he saw it. “Okay, I’ll take your word for it. You were just being considerate.”

Atsushi mood deflated. He knew in her eyes she didn’t believe him but in a way, she was wrong. He didn’t fall in love with her that night; his love for her started way before that. It started on a night he had forgotten about until recently; one he remembered only because of a dream.

His love for her ignited the moment he saw her at the Orphanage. A week before the incident.

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⇐ Last Atsushi Drabble Next Atsushi Drabble ⇒ 📚 Beast Cutesy 👠

𝐇𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭? 𝐂𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞

𝐖𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭? 𝐂𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞

© 2023 @blake-elladonna™ — all copyrights reserved. Please do not translate, steal, repost or claim my writing or ideas as your own. Click here for further details.

[secret-bug-pain-blog]

Febuwhump Day 12 - Semi-Conscious

Hi. We forgot to post things. Our apologies for any tag spam that may occur, we're putting these under-cut regardless of actual length so that we don't violate common courtesy too much here. Behold, part one of the We Forgot To Post Some Prompts Special.

We are staggering these by a day or two because we don't want to flood the tag. You can expect three today and four (probably) in a bit - our apologies for the flood, and our apologies for repeating the same crime as in the end of February proper.

We have a grand total of seven prompts in the same technically-finished-but-we-were-busy-on-the-day-of state for this event - which is entirely too much for loading the Bug Fables tag with in one day, since there are other people also posting who may not want their stuff buried under seven different bits of mostly "we cut this up because the full concept is a few thousand words long and got too ambitious to fit in a single month" works.

Although technically one is an illustration, it is also an illustration that we finished... in a different country, while travelling. In theory, it's in our bags somewhere. In practice, we're mostly unpacked and haven't found it, which means it's either lodged in a sketchbook somewhere or left in a different country. For obvious reasons, this puts a slight damper on being able to post it (thus, the probably four).

The smell was even stronger here, a pervasive corpse-scent seeping through the space. As she got closer to the source of the scent, Celia couldn't shake the feeling that something was watching her, hidden in the shadows just ahead. Celia glanced around the cavern, fear creeping up her throat-

A moth laid in the corner, staring at her with wide, pale eyes.

Celia froze.

It looked like death warmed over - or like it was already dead, and the body just hadn't fully collapsed yet. Its limbs were limp, only barely propping up his body, its eyes glazed and reflecting the light of her torch like white pearls, its chitin looking brittle and half-faded. She took a moment just staring, trying to tell if it was still alive or already gone, trapped in its blank, unmoving gaze.

Its sides weren't moving.

Celia uncertainly moved closer, staring at the... was it a dead body? She felt the setae raise on the back of her neck, the distinct feeling of something watching her creeping into the back of her mind. The moth's body was still, but she couldn't shake the feeling that it was looking at her.

The tracks ended here. The scent trail, likewise, had dropped off. The scent of dying ant was strong, but there weren't any ants in here. There wasn't anything here but the moth's body, in fact - and though she knew that her sense of smell wasn't the best, compared to other ants, she could swear that the pervasive dead-ant smell was coming from...

Celia tentatively reached out to touch the moth's wing, and it moved.

[unboundtravels]

"doctor." a pause, blinking at the tired figure of the shorter male. "doctor, are you awake?" mali asked once more, brows slightly furrowed as she awaited the other's response. "i have something i want to give to you." her voice carried barely any inflection, though, she still seemed somewhat awkward with the way she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. brown irises avoidant of his gaze as he finally seemed to be conscious, though, other than that? inexpressive as ever.

without further ado would the idol offer the male a glance at the felted creation she had made specifically for him. a small bag in which a white cat was sleeping, quite fitting in mali's opinion. "the cat is more of a placeholder . . . but i wanted to give you something that can be useful to you. maybe for small trinkets or glasses?" in any case, she seemed a bit more at ease now that she's given him the gift. "happy valentine's day." (for sleepy ofc!)

𝐔𝐧𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐝. // ALWAYS ACCEPTING

He seemed to perk up at her voice. He had previously just been standing out in the middle of the area they were in. His hands rested in his coat pockets as his head seemed to cant up toward the sky. His hair flowed in the breeze, his body swaying slightly as if he was just basking in the moment. When Mali finally approached him and spoke to him, his body directed its full attention toward her, his head tilting toward her direction slightly. He didn't get a chance to speak before she held out what he held. He took the soft felted item in his hand, and for the first time, ever...

Mali watched his smile drop.

She saw him open his eyes. They were a soft color... almost like a sort of peachy orange. When they were opened, he seemed about as awake as anyone who would be awake in the middle of a sunny afternoon. It was like all of his energy levels had been suddenly turned up. He stared at this tiny felted object like it was the most important thing in all of creation. She watched him dig into his coat and pull out a small cylindrical device. It seemed to be so buried deep into his jacket pocket that digging for it was inconvenient. He then opened his coat up, looking for a place inside of it that was more convenient... and then he placed the felt object against that area of his coat's interior.

His screwdriver, with a simple click of the button, seemed to sew the pouch onto the inside of his coat. He made sure it was tight, making sure it wasn't going anywhere. Then, when it was fully in there, he slid the screwdriver next to the cat. This could give someone the impression that the screwdriver was being held by the cat. The Doctor then pulled his coat shut and looked up at Mali with that bright smile. This time, though, his eyes being half-lidded while he smiled made... him look very passionate about his next statement. 

Softly, he reached to grab her hand. With both of his, he brushed at her fingers very gently and intertwined their fingers. His voice, when he spoke, was so genuine. "Mali..." He spoke, letting her name hang on the air for a moment. He looked young, that much was evident— but the way he looked at her right now... he seemed so old. However, she had made this old man very happy. "Thank you..." He beamed, before pulling her down lightly. She was still taller than him, and he wanted to give her a little kiss on the cheek.

"Happy Valentine's Day, Darlin'."

[msommers]

1, 9, 16 for riya/victor, and bonus 3 for riya/leroux :)

i give u a kees on the nose muah thank u // development questions for couples

What, specifically, was the catalyst for their physical attraction (if applicable) to the other character? In other words, what in particular had them like “Oh, they’re...hot...”

it's cheating if i just put "lust at first sight" as the answer, i know it, but i do believe in my heart that it's absolutely true for victor lmao. how is he (a simple spoiled rich boy) supposed to see her (a beautiful girl in a striking dress) walk by giving him an overt once-over and a wink while attending a fête or smth, and not immediately be a goner? impossible. alexa play sucker by jonas brothers. on riya’s end, without a doubt it happened the first time she saw him spellcasting. whether it was during the previous tourney or simply catching a glimpse of him practicing some spell or other, he was a showman who knew he was hot shit and she ate that spectacle right up. mages are incredibly sexy in action and both riya and i will die on that hill

What do they think about commitment? Is a long-term partnership the goal? Are they thinking about building a life with their partner, or are they focused on the present?

neither of them were particularly focused on the Big Picture and that was part of why they worked so well together, much to the disappointment of parents on both sides. they could see into the future so far as their grand plans of exciting and romantic adventures, but most of their focus was on enjoying their time in the present to the fullest without worries of what was to come later. which is entirely why long-term commitment was never discussed between them, though it was probably assumed?? given how deep their feelings were. 

If they had the ability to just spend free time with their partner, what would they do? Would they go out or stay inside?

mmmmm i think 9/10 times they would choose to go out, which shows how hilariously privileged they were before things went downhill. they'd get up to a lot of things but their favorites would have been dancing, walking the markets, and frequenting their favored meal spots. the kinda couple that were always in contact of some kind while out together, but it was hard to tell if that was fully motivated by affection alone or if they also wanted to be a little obnoxious and in-your-face about their happiness and attraction to each other. (it was for sure both.)

By contrast, what was the moment that first made their ~heart~ Soft for the other person? Not necessarily a conscious realization of “I love this person,” but a moment that had them like “Oh...I adore them...”

hmm. i don't know if riya's reached an Adoration level with him. the closest thing i can think of here (so i can give an actual answer) would be closer to a moment of Appreciation. my memory won’t provide what scene was going down when it happened, but i do remember there being a moment during a session where as a player i realized oh, this guy is the only one here who is actively going through something similar to riya. because while everybody else in the party has already been exposed to such things through their own varied experiences, riya was having her worldviews torn apart piece by piece with each revelation of how bad things are with the templars and the circle (and the world outside of her tiny view in general tbh) beyond cumberland and she was not doing great. so yeah it sucks leroux had to confront that the system he’s trusted and worked in for however long was allowing—and even encouraging!!—terrible things to happen right under his nose, but it gave riya a moment of being able to recognize that she wasn’t alone in having her views and faith flipped on their head. and as a lil extent of that, his commitment to taking action after the revelations helped influence her own attitude towards the entire white spire magebreak :) 

on the other side, clearly leroux was besotted at first meeting. duh. just look @ that smile of hers, how could he not be (aka i won’t make assumptions on his end lmao)

[lifeofkaze]

A Search for Balance

CHAPTER 29: THE EYE OF THE STORM

Find the masterlist with all chapters of this story here, the previous chapter here, and the next one here.

Tagging: @flareshogwarts

As Lizzie stepped from the glass doors onto the broad, tiered terrace, the damp night air hit her like a Bludger. The smell of the lilac bushes was heavier than it had been in front of the manor, and the rumble of thunder could be heard in the distance.

Sge cast a searching look around, trying to make out where Orion had gone. Along a winding path leading away from the house, twinkling lights had been set into the trees and bushes; Lizzie followed it, her steps taking her away from the light and noise and deeper into the gardens.

Soon the music and the voices faded, leaving behind only the sound of her heels on the gravel and the murmur of the sea stretching beyond the estate borders. A handful of couples had fled the hustle and bustle of the ball to enjoy a moment alone, and Lizzie nodded to them with a curt smile as she passed them. 

Before long, the path performed a soft bend leading back to the house, part of it branching off to a wide platform that overlooked the beach and the dark waves beyond. It was there that she finally found Orion.

He stood with his back to her, his underarms resting on an old stone railing covered in ivy and his face turned toward the white crests on the water that shone pallid through the darkness. The soft but steady breeze ruffled through his hair, blowing it gently around his features, and suddenly, Lizzie found her courage dwindling. Before all of it would be gone, she took a deep breath, smoothed out her dress, and stepped onto the platform.  

“I’m surprised to see you here,” she said, masking her pounding heart with a smile. “I almost thought you wouldn’t come.”

The sound of her voice broke Orion from his thoughts. There was a look of surprise passing his face, followed by a strangely self-conscious smile.

“Neither did I. But if our path takes us back to one place over and over again, shouldn’t we just accept our fate?” His already small smile faded, replaced by a guarded expression as he looked past Lizzie into the darkness. “I didn’t expect to see you here, either, so far from light and laughter. And alone.”

“I wasn’t in the mood for company.” Lizzie looked at the railing questioningly. “May I?”

Orion stepped to the side, more to show his consent than to make room for her. Lizzie stood next to him, casting a silent look over the scenery below them. The estate stood on a small cliff face, the platform they were standing on right on the very edge. Beyond, the cliff dropped to a sandy beach, which had faded to grey in the dusky twilight. It wasn’t fully dark just yet, but storm clouds had begun gathering, swallowing the last remnants of light and bringing night in their wake.

Further out at sea, the wind had turned into a full-blown gale. The waves were rising high, rolling towards the shore and crashing with a sound that reminded Lizzie of falling rocks. It was a terrifying sight, and yet, there was a haunting kind of beauty to it. The storm was drawing near, waiting its turn before it would rage without restraint, terrible and wonderful, and Lizzie could feel the anticipation of it burning beneath her skin.

“As intimidating as it is inspiring, don’t you think?” Orion broke Lizzie from her thoughts.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered in return, a rough edge to her voice.

Orion was silent for a moment. Then, he said so quietly she almost didn’t hear, “Not as beautiful as you.”

Her heart beating almost painfully fast, Lizzie finally looked away from the stormy sea. When her and Orion’s eyes met, he dropped his gaze, his hand reaching for the necklace Lizzie knew he wore underneath his dressrobes. Unsure of what to answer him, she fixed her eyes to a beetle crawling through the intertwining vines on the rough stone of the railing.

“I didn’t see you the whole evening,” she said eventually. “Where have you been?”

Orion looked ahead into the night, but his lips were curved into a wry, slightly crooked smile. It was an expression Lizzie had seen countless times on him, but she had never thought it as sad and beautiful as it was now.

“As your friend Andre would say, I came in fashionably late.”

His tone was casual, but Lizzie heard the strain in his voice anyway.

“Why?” 

Orion’s smile faltered as he glanced at her, brushing the hair from his eyes with a slow movement of his hand. “I don’t suppose you’ll let it rest when I say I have my reasons?”

“No.”

With a wry chuckle, Orion tipped his head into his neck before turning to face her.

“The Montrose Magpies are hosting this ball for the fifth season in a row. It’s always here, on this estate… but you know that, of course.” He tailed off, as if he wasn’t quite sure which words to pick next. “When I was here last, my heart was already heavy with doubt. I didn’t know if touching on what should be better left alone was wise.”

“But that’s not all, is it?”

“Recollections of my failure aren’t the only memories haunting me tonight, no.”

If not by his voice, Lizzie would have known what Orion meant by how he was avoiding her eyes. Despite the unusually warm night air, she felt a good deal colder than before. When she extended her hand to touch him, he moved away, and Lizzie was surprised to find how much it stung.

“Orion, please. Let me explain.”

“No,” he told her, softly but firmly. “The future is uncertain, our past only sorrow. What good is there in lingering?”

“How about we settle for the present, then?” Lizzie asked with a shy smile. “No talk about anything else, I promise.”

The look in Orion’s eyes was unreadable. After a moment that felt like an eternity, he inclined his head.

“As you wish, Chaser. Just the present, you and I.”

They gradually relaxed as they chatted about everything and nothing in particular. The conversation felt strained at first, but the longer it continued, the more natural it became. The wind had grown stronger again, a gust of it scattering a flurry of cherry blossoms through the air. They floated over their heads, and before the breeze could carry them away further, Orion closed his hand around one of them. He looked at the blossom it thoughtfully, then held it out for Lizzie to take

“That was quite the Seeker move,” she smiled at him, trying not to think about where her fingers had brushed his. “Who knew you could be anything but a Chaser?”  

“All Quidditch positions are equal, and all of them are part of us,” Orion mused, his eyes resting on the delicate flower in Lizzie’s palm. “I have been a Seeker, a Keeper, a Beater, and - of course - a Chaser. And yet I have failed all of them.”

Lizzie frowned. “How so?”

“Like a Seeker, I sought what I thought I wanted most and lost what truly mattered. Like a Beater, I thought to fend off the inevitable and got hit even harder because of it. And like a Keeper, I failed to keep what should have been protected.”  

Orion took the cherry blossom from Lizzie and turned away. The sadness radiating off him was almost palpable.

“First and foremost, you’ve always been a Chaser,” she said gently. “What does the Chaser do?”

“The Chaser…” Orion mumbled, as if thinking about it himself. “The Chaser pursues his destiny, whatever that may be.”

The wind caught the cherry blossom from his outstretched palm and carried it towards the sea. Lizzie watched after it, the mood suddenly as heavy as the smell of lilac in the air.

“Did you know that this isn’t the dress I was supposed to be wearing tonight?” she forced herself to say. It was a silly thing to say, but Lizzie felt the urge to distract both Orion and herself almost like a physical need. Giving her a sideways glance, Orion played along.

“What did it look like?”

“Just like this,” Lizzie giggled, holding up one of the petals tangled in the ivy and sending it flying with the wind. “I would have been covered in flowers. No chance to find me between those trees.”

Orion’s look was curious. “What happened to it?”

“I figured it was time for a change.”

“How fitting for a ball celebrating the change of seasons. I’m sure the other dress was as beautiful as you deserved it to be.” His formerly small smile widened, taking on the slight tilt that made Lizzie’s heartbeat stumble. “For what it’s worth, I like you in red.”

Lizzie laughed quietly. She repeated the words she had thrown at Matthew earlier in the evening, only now they came with a warm feeling spreading in her chest.

“I always preferred the cherries over the blossoms.”

“I remember,” Orion smiled back at her. He paused as his eyes wandered slightly to the side of her face. He reached out, and Lizzie held her breath as he gently placed his hand beneath her earring. The tips of his fingers barely touched her cheek as he looked at it, a tingling sensation spreading through Lizzie’s entire body. Her heart was hammering against her ribcage, so loudly that she was convinced Orion had to notice.

“I remember those as well,” he said very quietly.

“I’m surprised you do,” Lizzie replied, her words falling from her lips in a whisper.

“How could I not?” Orion ran his fingertip over the pearl-studded crescent of the half-moon. The movement against her skin made Lizzie hold her breath. “Sun and moon, united in perfect harmony.”

“I always thought it was a star.”

“To some, the sun is nothing but,” Orion told her quietly. “To others, she’s the centre of their universe.”

The silence between them felt impossibly heavy as Lizzie struggled to find her words again. When Orion let go of her earring and moved away, she laid her hand against his chest.

“Orion, I need you to know that -”

“Don’t,” he said, but his tone was gentle. He rested his hand beneath her jaw, his thumb brushing her cheek as lightly as a feather. “Don’t chase the moment away. Remember, just here and now.”

“You and I.”

Orion smiled as his eyes found hers, warm, deep, and so painfully familiar. He was so close that Lizzie could feel the warmth of his body on her skin.

The storm was gathering, and the world holding its breath. In the distance, far out at sea, lightning had begun to flash. It cut through the clouds like bright white veins, illuminating the waves below. The tension in the air gave Lizzie goosebumps, running through her veins and making her body feel like it was humming. Thunder rolled above their heads, and she could taste the salt and smell the rain in the air, the wind stirring the hair on her exposed shoulders making her shiver.

As Orion’s hands slowly came to rest on her waist and pulled her closer, Lizzie raised her face to look at him. Her eyes fell to his lips, slightly parted as he stood still, like everything was still around her, waiting on what would happen next.

“Can you do something for me?” she whispered, her words ghosting over Orion’s skin as her eyes found his. She could almost feel his lips against hers as he answered.

“Anything.”

“Take me away from here.”

As the wind gathered force, lifting their hair and making a swirl of cherry blossoms dance around them, the two of them locked eyes. Lizzie held her breath, along with the rest of the world, finally ready for the storm to break.

A sharp crack sounded above the crush of thunder, and both of them had disappeared.