#panic. mayhem. chaos.

[swiggity-swexual-i-am-asexual]

DPxDC Prompt

Thinking back on it, Danny probably should have been more wary of being given the title ‘Ender Of Timelines’.

[foli-vora]

without you

matt murdock x f!reader

A/N: made myself hurt with this one tbh. I'll think about a part 2 if enough are interested, but I'll warn you - it won't be a happy ending lmao. Enjoy the angst-fest loves! x

Summary: You return after the 'blip'. Five years is a long time, and a lot of things can happen in that time.

Word count: 2.1kish

Warnings: ANGST. ANGST ANGST ANGST. i got sad af writing this. i don't even know what to put in the warnings. the events of infinity war & endgame, brief mention of the avengers, severe and utter fucking heartbreak, i would lose my fucking mind coming home after an apparent 5 years and finding the love of my life *******, lots of anxiety/panic, severe panic attack, passing out. no hate to karen here - she's a fucking babe.

-

It happens within a blink.

One moment there’s no one, and the next, an older woman is suddenly standing in your way and you can’t help the brief twitch of annoyance that she’s there. You have a meeting, you have groceries to get… you can’t just play chicken with a stranger on the pavement all afternoon.

She freezes, like many others you notice, and your frown deepens, confusion starting to take over the irritation. They all look at you, but not just you.

Time seemingly comes to a momentary freeze and you just don’t understand. Why is she looking at you like that?

The next minute—panic.

There’s a rush.

People scramble for their phones, they run. Cars swerve and there’s chaos. There are people crying, people start screaming, but there’s also awe, laughter. People embrace strangers. You know they’re strangers by the way they look around in complete bewilderment in the arms of the other, seemingly just as confused as you.

Five years.

Why do you keep hearing ‘five years’? Why are shop fronts different? What the hell has happened?��

“You’re… you’re all back,” the woman utters, tears starting to build along her lash line.

Back?

You feel it in the pit of your stomach, a sick feeling of dread slowly building until it feels like it sticks uncomfortably in your throat. Something happened. You don’t know what, you don’t know how, all you know is that you need to go home immediately.

It’s halfway back to the apartment, after passing things that weren’t there previously, shops that you had passed just hours before now different, and your phone simply refusing to connect for unknown reasons, that you break into a panicked run.

You want home, you want somewhere familiar.

Matt left for work the same time as you—would the new mayhem taking over the streets bring him home to you? Maybe he’d already be waiting, sensing the frenzy before you?

The view of your building is a welcome relief, and you slow as you reach the door, heart pounding in your chest as you take the stairs as quickly as possible. The apartment is unlocked, and you berate yourself for forgetting to lock up earlier, but Matt’s cane resting by the door turns your inward irritation to understanding.

He’s home. He got here before you. He must be waiting, maybe he’d have answers—

“Matty?” you call, “do you have any idea what’s—”

A clatter, a sweep of air, and then he’s on you.

He’s curled around you before you can even finish, his arms so tight and constricting you struggle to take in a full breath. He’s talking, muttering incoherent words into the skin of your throat and all you can do is stand there, mind whirling in a maddening rush, not even able to lift your arms to return his embrace due to his restrictive hold.

“You’re here,” he breathes, almost disbelieving, “you’re here. I didn’t want to have hope but—God, I—”

“Matt, I’m so confused,” you breathe, unsure of why tears are starting to gloss your eyes or why your heart suddenly feels like it’s beating in the back of your throat, “what’s going on? It’s crazy out there, I don’t know wh—”

“I know. I know, sweetheart. I’ve missed you. God, I’ve missed you. It’s been so long, I didn’t think I’d ever—” he trails off, unable to finish his sentence and a few more panicked kisses press into the side of your throat.

He’s crying.

You feel the wetness of his tears smear over your skin and it’s enough to bring your own falling heavily from your eyes. What is he talking about? You saw him this morning, only mere hours ago. You made breakfast, you kissed him goodbye like every other day, nothing had been different. 

“Matt,” you whimper, “what the hell is going on?”

—

Five years. You were gone for five years. Just one day—poof. Out of existence, never to be seen again. The city had been clouded by dust, remnants of those also taken disappearing with the autumn breeze. So many people just lost. You don’t remember any of it.

There was no pain, no suffering. You had no recollection of the time lost at all, and yet for Matt it had been years.

Years since he had touched you, kissed you, felt you. He tells you that he looked for you for weeks, months. Even went to the damn Avengers—or what was left of them—and found out what had happened. He’d been distraught, falling into a deep, dark pit of despair and heartbreak from the sudden loss of you.

You cry for him, for the time you’d lost together.

Nothing could ever make up for it. Sure, you’re here now, but could you ever truly make up for the loss of time? What had he gone through during your absence?

The two of you don’t part for what feels like hours.

Matt clings to you, inhaling you deeply and kissing whatever inch of skin he could reach. He doesn’t pull away to answer your questions, instead letting the low rumble of his voice melt through the fabric of your shirt and flooding warmth along your shoulder.

His hands still roam over you, almost as if they’re retracing your dips and curves to remind himself of how you felt when you disappeared five years ago. You catch his fingers with a sweet flutter in your chest, lifting his hand to press a tender kiss to the back of it when the smooth feel of metal catches your attention.

It’s a simple gold band, fit snug around the fourth finger of his left hand and you rub your finger over the shiny surface of it in curiosity. He wasn't wearing a ring this morning...

A ring. 

A wedding ring.

You feel sick.

He senses the moment you realise it, picking up on the sudden quicken of your heartbeat and the clammy sting of sweat that builds along the back of your neck.

His tongue darts out to moisten his lips as you stare at the smooth gold band in shock, feeling as if the room had suddenly gotten ten times smaller. He starts to shift, his fingers quickly flipping to wrap around your wrists to keep you from moving away.

“Let me explain—”

“You… are—are you married?”

“Sweetheart, please—”

You hurriedly stand, wrenching your hands from his and stumbling on your quick step back as he advances after you. He’s married? How can he be married?

Maybe he’s not. Maybe he just slid the ring you both picked out onto his finger when you disappeared in an effort to keep your memory fresh… but with the shine of guilt starting to seep into his features, you fear it’s not as sentimental as you hope.

Panic consumes you. Your eyes flitter around the room, your ears filling with a dull ring that drowns out whatever words fall from his lips as he cautiously steps after you.

It’s your apartment, but it’s… it’s not.

You start to notice the little things you had missed upon coming home so quickly. That throw over the back of the couch isn’t yours. The coffee mug next to Matt’s on the kitchen counter isn’t yours. Your trinkets aren’t lingering on the shelves where you’d placed them. Your shoes aren’t thrown by the door. Your photo with Matt isn’t in its usual spot on the wall.

Instead, another picture hangs there.

Bile burns the back of your throat. Your heart thunders away in your ears. You know what it is, you can see the general feel of it and who stands within the frame through blurry eyes, but you simply can’t accept it.

It’s morbid curiosity that makes you take those few steps towards it, a part of you screaming to not look, to turn away before it really hammers that final nail into the coffin and fucking destroys you. Maybe your mind needs to truly see it in order to make sense of it… but no. It only makes you more confused, more distressed.

What the fuck?

Oxygen is impossible. You can’t fucking breathe. You can’t—

“Sweetheart—”

It’s a wedding photo.

Matt’s wedding photo.

Matt and Karen’s wedding photo.

“Oh my god,” you whimper brokenly, clutching a hand to your chest in an effort to keep yourself together. You press where you feel the rapid beat of your heart, half wondering if you’d be able to feel the break of the frantic organ under your palm.

The room starts to spin.

This morning you’d woken up with an apartment and a fiancé, and now, only a few hours later, you have nothing. How can you have nothing? The apartment is home to you—you left your pyjamas on the floor of the bathroom this morning. You had your coffee at the counter. The love you feel for Matt is present as it always had been, there in the centre of your entire being, so sweet and consuming and yet, his love for you had seemingly vanished.

Disintegrated, along with your body apparently five years ago. Maybe with a clearer head, you’d come to understand that five years is a long time and it’s understandable that he had to move on at some point, but in the moment you feel nothing but hurt—rage.

Matt’s hands are frantic on your body, grabbing at your arms and keeping you from falling to the floor as a sob tears its way out of your chest. You can hear him try to soothe you, hear his worry that your heart is erratic and you just need to breathe.

Breathe, sweetheart—please, breathe.

You can’t. You simply can’t.

Oxygen isn’t coming as easily as it should. Your lungs burn. You’re shaking, unable to stop the tremble taking over your body as you choke on your tears. They burn your skin, painting your cheeks with the bitterness of your heartbreak and they just won’t stop. 

He supports you as you sink towards the floor, legs no longer having the strength to hold you up. He goes down with you, hands cradling your head to his chest and you can’t find it in you to push him away and escape his touch.

It’s Matt. Your Matt. 

You shouldn’t want to shrug him off. You shouldn’t feel guilty at his touch. He’s your Matt, has been for the eighteen months you’ve been together. It was meant to be you in that frame, swimming in white with a smile stretched along your lips, Matt dressed to the nines in an immaculate tux and his ever present red shades beside you.

But it’s not. It’s… it’s Karen.

It’s not you, there’s no trace of you anywhere to be seen. Had you been that forgettable? Foggy’s there, Marci a step behind holding a beautiful little girl with ribbons in her hair. They had a baby? You’ve missed so much.

You start weeping for the life you’d missed out on, for the chances and opportunities of growing older with them and the sweet potential you had had with Matt.

Gone.

All of it, just—gone.

Where would you be now had your soul not been chosen? Married? Promoted? A godmother to the sweet little angel cradled in Marci’s arms? 

“Sweetheart, come back to me,” Matt’s voice cuts through your despair, low and soft in your ear and you cling to him tighter, “breathe. I’ve got you, I’m here.”

“I-I’ve lost so much,” you choke out, hiding your tear stricken face in his throat and desperately trying to get ahold of your body jerking with each difficult inhale and broken exhale, “and I didn’t even know—”

You didn’t know. You didn’t know anything when you apparently ‘returned’. It’s all so haunting and overwhelming and so fucking confusing. 

He stills smells the same, feels the same, despite all these years. You cling to him, desperate for comfort in the moment of your utter heartbreak, but it doesn’t work like it used to and that only makes your pain increase tenfold. His hold feels wrong now. His hold isn’t for you anymore. He has a wife.

You still don’t understand. You can’t comprehend the fact that he’s married, that the arms that hold you are now meant for someone else. They were yours this morning. It’s not possible. You had him this morning; you felt him this morning, you kissed him—

“Sweetheart,” he’s urgent now, manoeuvring you in his hold until you sit in front of him, your back pressed up against his chest and his arms tight around your torso, “breathe with me. Feel my chest, listen to me and follow—in… and out. Come on—”

You pay attention to the exaggerated feel of him breathing against your back, focusing on every expansion of his chest and attempting to match the pace of your inhales. It doesn’t work. Your heart still thunders away against your ribs, your mind still runs fucking wild, and your eyes threaten to roll back from the rush of it all.

“Stay with me,” he begs, but his voice starts to sink to the back of your mind, taken over by the high pitched ring sounding in your ears.

It’s not long until black fully engulfs your vision, and Matt’s voice calling your name is the last thing you hear, frantic and terrified. Maybe you'll find peace in the darkness.

-

matty tags: @javier-pena, @dihra-vesa, @a-reader-and-a-writer, @radiowallet, @januarystears, @danidrabbles, @amneris21, @acourtofsnakes, @mstgsmy66, @evyiione, @stardust-galaxies, @kelseyxyeslek, @greeneyedblondie44, @you-got-me-starry-eyed, @withasideofmeg, @mad-girl-without-a-box, @fangirl-316, @xoxabs88xox, @federleichtefreiheit, @lavenderluna10, @mindidjarin. @stardustingold, @androah, @itwasthereaminuteago, @wildmoonflower, @naughtynecromancer, @h-hxgirl, @Unabashed-lover-of-fictional-men, @juletheghoul, @punkerthanpascal, @itswanktime, @omlwhatamidoinghere, @celestinemuse, @chaoticemz, @alexxavicry, @mylifeispainandiloveit, @cran-berry-vodka, @nishi-reads, @mandocrasis, @lawfulgranola, @ew-erin, @fuckoffbard, @spaceserialkiller, @captain-jebi

[chiyoso]

“THE MARA'S WILL”

someone as fragile as you shouldn't have to reign the bloodied fields of cloudford, along with raging war against two powerful factions—as well as an internal presence that invaded your mind that started all of this mayhem.

content warnings; oneshot · female reader · honkai impact 3rd inspired · takes place after xianzhou arc · canon universe · manupulation · mentions of depressive tendencies · declining mental health · war · death · traumatic events · mentions of blood · fighting · sensitive descriptions · dead dove: do not eat.

author notes; an open ending is an open ending. i appreciate all your of love for this oneshot, but i won't be making pt2. ty.

The Astral Express.

A widely known faction of celestial mysteriousness that traverses across the galaxy, they dedicate themselves to the ways of trailblaze and adventure, an enormous train conducted by a rumored fluffy creature that travels through vast worlds with its starry residers.

However, you didn't expect to meet the faction like this. The time that you yourself encountered the famous members of the Express— or rather, they bumped into you.

A memorable impression, leading their hearts and minds to waver in complete uneasiness, fear and curiousity.

It was one of those moments. Moments of tranquility, replaced almost immediately with unsightly chaos, and screeching horrors.

And they weren't coming from you.

2:49 PM — CLOUDFORD, XIANZHOU LUOFU

NOW PLAYING ♪ TOT MUSICA

11 minutes until eruption.

ᚷᚨᚺ ᛉᚨᚾ ᛏᚨᚲ ᚷᚨᚺ ᛉᚨᚾ ᛏᚨᛏ ᛏᚨᛏ ᛒᚱᚨᚲ

ᚷᚨᚺ ᛉᚨᚾ ᛏᚨᚲ ᚷᚨᚺ ᛉᚨᚾ ᛏᚨᛏ ᛏᚨᛏ ᛒᚱᚨᚲ

“F- Fu-aahh.... Haah...” You groaned in pain. The sounds of alarms, crumbling and a voice of elegant dread echoed inside your mind, chanting unfamiliar, incomprehensible sounds that you were unable to understand nor fathom its sound waves.

Your flesh continued to crack as gold seeped out from the insides, bright lightning marks all around your form, accompanied with your heavy eyelids, struggling to keep your consciousness as you panted heavily. Your thoughts fogged viciously with memories of all kinds, your mind had felt like a mix between ice and fire. A flaming vortex along with an Icy storm that seethed inside, causing a severe throbbing that had you wailing in pain in heaps of volume consecutively as you grip your head.

“M- Mr. Yang!” A high pitched voice trembled, struggling on her feet while a grey haired female helped her up to stabilize her balance.

“Go. Call for reinforcements. I'll take it from here.” He says, gripping his cane while the other hand hoists his frames up to his nose bridge, returning his gaze towards the sight of you.

Reinforcements?

“H-hhgk—” You coughed up gold. Your face stained with your aureate tears, gasping for air as you clenched the area of your heart, which was beaming light, pulsating with the same color as the liquid that stained your whole being.

What was happening?

You screech, lower limbs suddenly at work, executing swift dodges that your untrained body couldn't handle physically, stretching and tearing your muscles.

Something was fighting for survival, and it wasn't you.

Your actions lowered the morale of determination from the Cloud Knights that had stationed on the sidelines, now replaced with a panic and fear from your ever so visibly increasing strength and agility, etching negative emotions into their wounded states that you have inflicted previously.

The man with the glasses, distance away from you clicked his tongue in frustration, he had summoned a multitude of black holes, raining hellish orbs of gravity towards you in such high speeds and velocity, but you... despite your poor state of self, you've managed to avoid them all.

But,

Even you weren't aware of your own skillful sequences.

ᛗᛁᛖ ᚾᛖᚷ ᛟᚾ ᚷᛁᛖᚲ ᚷᛁᛖᚲ

ᚾᚨᚺ ᛈᚺᚨᛋ ᛏᛖᛉᛉᛖ ᛚᚨᚺ

“P- Please... shut... get out of m—”

Feeble attempts of retribution, cease your resistance.

Play into submission, child of Lan.

You cocked your head to the skies, letting out gutteral sobs to the heavens, screaming and pleading your heart out while your own nails dug into your skin, your eyes weeped in gold, blurring your sense of sight.

Your thoughts were a sea of fragmented memories, bad ones, the negative ones that only fueled your transformation and the thread of your consciousness that you desperately were holding onto, was now being threatened harshly.

The man in glasses gripped his cane, firming his hold while witnessing your overwhelming presence and what was happening infront of him.

You were talking to yourself. You were visibly in pain, you were weeping, and the mara that was supposed to overcome you right now was... being barely resisted. Resisted. Resisted?

That's impossible.

You can't resist the Mara.

Beads of sweat formed trickled down along his jawline, his eyes diluded towards the sight that was all too familiar for him.

Someone- or something was talking to you, and he felt nothing but the sensation of dread swell inside him.

He didn't know what to do. Based on your own visible actions, it was clear—you didn't mean to do any harm, you were struggling more than anyone in this dire situation.

You brought your tainted hands that was darkening onto your face, trying to hold onto what's left of yourself, your consciousness.

“PLEASE! L- LEAVE M—” You choked out.

You were stumbling on your feet, drowning in pain as you sobbed your pleas of desperation.

His face scrunches, biting his bottom lip, frustrated over his hesitancy and lack of determination into going all out against you.

You reminded him of a state that reminded him of his past companions from another world, a state that only led to an upbringing of a powerful force, leading to the destruction of humanity and civilizations, a state that almost destroyed his homeworld.

But he had to remind himself repeatedly, you were just... Mara-strucked. A man-made work from the schemes of Sanctus Medicus, their work, befalling to an unfortunate character before him.

But... why the hell were you talking to yourself? Why were you pleading? Crying? How were you still able to talk? And most importantly, how were you still able to resist your supposed inevitable demise?

You peeked through your digits, your eyes pierce to the man with glasses, before lowering your hands to your sides in idle, continuing to pant heavily in place.

Your stance had your staggering legs slightly bent, your chin upwards—but your stained eyes remained on the figure infront of you.

His eyes diluded upon meeting your sorrowful gaze, his hand tightened around his cane further, seemingly ready to take on any action you will commence, but he wished you didn't engage, he wished for your attacks to cease. He didn't desire to harm you at all—You were in obvious pain, emotionally, physically and mentally, and only his veteran observations can see that.

“M- Miss—”

“Kill me.”

You said breathily with your burning throat, your voice had been accompanied with a second, mixing with your original tone with a now deeper, and sinister chord that showed the fruition of the transformation you were currently experiencing.

Your hands find their way to your throat as you coughed out more gold, along with the taste of iron that mixed with the aureate liquid that had turned into an morbid shade of color from your blood.

Your legs gave in, bringing you to your knees while you continued to choke on your own secretes, sobbing continuously from the sensations you were experiencing.

“BENEFACTOR! SHE HAS FALLEN!”

“WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?!”

“END HER LIFE BEFOR—” “Gghk-... Nngh...”

“Reinforcements are on their way.”

“I- It hurts.... It HURTS!!!”

“Call for further units! At ONCE!”

“P- Please tell me I'll live...”

“BENEFACTOR ITS YOUR CHANCE!”

“M- Monster!” “M- MY ARMS!”

“KILL HER!” “HER STRENGTH IS ONLY-”

“KILL HER!” “KILL HER!”

“KILL HER!!!!”

“KILL HER!”

The man with glasses was overwhelmed with contradicting emotions, hindering his wavering will to use the opportunity of your vulnerability.

The cries and pleas of desperation from the several Cloud Knights that have fallen from your battle, ring through the bloodied field, along with your genuine—sorrowful filled sobs that only haunted and hesitated him much more.

His own thoughts were only mirroring the mess that you were in, having to be filled with deep memories of a life that was filled with death and torment, reminding him of his sins once again.

The child of the Hunt, hopelessly clings onto the wretched humanity, only to be shunned out and betrayed by your own race.

I feel their sea of desperation, their desires for your lesser existence to perish without a trace in the galaxy.

Give into the sensations of truth, let it embrace your poorly sculpted soul, for I will accept you without fail.

You were already on the floor arched, your hands had continued to hold your head, gripping your hair as you wallowed in your pool of tears, gold and blood that soaked your once beautiful skin.

“Sss-top... Stop... Please...”

You've already hurt your own kind.

“I- I... Hgk— Ahh-Haah...”

You've already inflicted enough despair and chaos to the point where these lowly humans cling onto their life in a feeble attempt of living.

“Th- That's not...”

Savor their pleas and screams of anguish as they call upon your death. You aren't wanted, you aren't needed.

“THAT'S NOT TRUE—”

The floor beneath your shaking body began to crack, the density and force around you had only drastically strengthen, creating a growing crater below you.

You are only inducing fear in your surroundings, and you are more than aware of what you're causing.

Hatred. Anguish. Despair. A need for violent measures. A selfish greed of clinging onto life from their grave wounds you placed upon them. This is all you.

All you.

Mindlessly in pain, your body unwillingly helps itself up despite your own injuries. You took a heavy step forward, only ceasing the noises that surrounded you as they witness your hauntingly beautiful yet bloodied form, but there was no attraction, they were now instilled with a new type of fear.

2:55 PM — CLOUDFORD, XIANZHOU LUOFU

5 minutes until eruption.

You were a golden death. A victim.

A new dreadful existence that was unintentionally yet successfully created by Sanctus Medicus.

The golden liquid had already burned the rest of your outfit. Your body only continued to pour gold from the rifts on your skin, your heart—or your now crystalized core, pulsated with consecutive glows, as if your former heart, and the rest of your biology had changed, in which case, it did.

That's it... Embrace it... Your perfected, honed and better self.

Shut up.

The voice chuckles, continuing to fog and envelope your whole essence.

The unwavering, unbearable pain was now released, replaced with the sensations of your skin, healing slowly. The paleness in your face had become warm once again along with your body.

Your hair only grew longer, luscious and free, your eyes glimmered in high self esteem once more, while previous cracks all over your body had almost disappear as if nothing was there in the first place.

You will never admit it, but you felt more healthy, you felt beautiful, you felt confident, you felt...

New, refreshed and reborn, and you grasped control of yourself once again.

Your newfound vigor and vitality only brought unease and curiousity to the Cloud Knights who loathed your existence being a supposed child of Yaoshi the Abundance now.

The man with glasses couldn't help but be reminded of his weakness from your newfound growth, he had hesitated until now, witnessing your upbringing and his own actions had left a sour feeling on his drying throat, unease had surrounded the man, in fear of what will commence. He doesn't know how much longer he can fight, accompanied with the knowledge of his two fatigued Astral companions seeking out help of any kind, but another question lingered in his thoughts;

What were you?

You weren't a mindless Mara-strucked individual that they've previously continuously dealt with, nor you had the appearance of golden leaves that battered and grew out of you. You were just a woman, at what he assumes to be your very prime, the high peak of your health, appearance, physicality and mental state, and your curiousity and confusion about your own state confirmed his assumptions.

“I-...” Your senses interrupt you as your instincts come into fruition, tilting your head to the right, only to reveal a Cloud-Piercing spear infront of your vision that had thrusted forward from behind. The light, horizontal slit from your left cheek which the Cloud Knight slightly grazed, begun to heal almost quickly, as well as suddenly realizing your hand was already around the unfortunate Cloud Knight's neck, lifting them up in a chokehold as their air supply begins to be cut off.

With widened eyes, you immediately loosened your grasp upon becoming aware of your actions, retorting your hand while guilt pumped into you.

“It- It was... It was instinct I-” Your voice cracked, bringing both of your hands to cover your mouth as your once blurred vision finally had a good look to your surroundings, grasping the situation and your hellish surroundings at bay.

Remember the sight.

Your mind throbbed once again, yet your nerves find ways to soothe the pain, but... even then, it will never be able to heal your aching heart and the damage you inflicted against the soldiers of the Xianzhou Alliance.

Instincts went into play once more, feeling a sudden familiar, pulling force behind moving towards you in a faster, denser velocity, only for you to barely dodge a faster orb of gravity that you had previously, went up against.

“W- Wait! I-” You turn your face quickly towards the man whom attacked you just now, only to be met with a bright, icy blade that moved quickly towards you, but both of your hands had already instinctively raise to your face, piercing both of your palms instead, grasping in the side of the bloodied tip of the cold sword that pierced you.

“FUCK!!! NNGH—!” You whimpered in pain, feeling the sensations of burning that sourced within your palms, along with the skin and nerves that was already healing, your own rejuvenating flesh, pushing out the icy sword as a 'CLANG' follows suit.

“Hmph. You're lucky I didn't throw it with too much force, otherwise you wouldn't be able to survive that!” A voice of a young boy graced the battlefield, turning the red sea into a cold, thundering storm of snow and ice, putting the injured Cloud Knights at ease and discomfort from the coldness that surrounded the environent.

“L-Lieutenant Yanqing!” A Cloud Knight gasped at his arrival, alerting the rest with jarred cheers erupting, while your gaze dilutes back and forth to the man with glasses—and a child who happens to be a lieutenant that had arrived.

“P- Please- I-”

“Save it servant of the Abundance!”

A continuing, cold breeze of snow enveloped the young boy, his aqua colored swords flying towards you once more.

Now equipped with newfound, engraved instincts that you have begun to get use to, your body- that had not tasted the ways of war and battle, danced its way around elegantly and flexibly from the skillful wrath of ice that relentlessly continued to attack you.

Despite your consciousness and having a sense of control once again, you felt another sensation, one that felt like another presence, another soul, tangled with yours, tugging at your essence, and it was most definitely the reason as to why you were moving in such a way, that continued to inflict fear and uneasiness to the Cloud Knights, and the man with the glasses whom continued to witness your dance of agility and grace against the right hand of the Arbiter General.

...

...

Why me...?

Imperfect.

There are many others.

...

The embodiment of failure and success.

Wh- What does that even mea—

A host of purity and defections all in one. All suited for me.

A canvas of the purest, warmest of soul, painted with absolute grief, sadness, regret, pain — yet harboring no anger, rage, hatred. A non-existent need for revenge.

Something a certain diciple of mine lacked, thus her inevitable defeat from the subjects of Akivili.

And you are mine to break and reconstruct. I can finally fathom why the Hunt had their arrows set on you.

The words gnawed your logical, racing thoughts, leaving you in a moment of disarray, visibly seen from your relentless opponent.

The Hunt... The... Reignbow Arbiter? But—

“Hhgk—!”

Tch. So flawed.

You felt another burning sensation to the left side of your waist, looking towards a deep cut that split your flesh into two from the icy blades that hailed like the rain against you, yet once again, it had begun to heal slowly, as sounds of your flesh and cells crickled, halting the young boy in his trained steps for a moment.

“What... What are y—” The young boy gets cut off.

Your gaze suddenly returns to the boy, with your left iris flickering into a golden color, replacing your original shade.

“Your demise.” The voice took over your vocals for a moment.

“N- No! you will NOT HARM ANYONE FURTHER!” You grit your teeth, holding your curled fists into each other, retraining yourself and letting the voice solely focus on avoiding further attacks.

How unpleasant.

Why do you continue to resist, child of Lan?

The sight of you... talking to yourself? No... Your voice had continued to change back and forth, only confusing him further.

Something was amiss, but the young boy and his youth couldn't fanthom the uniqueness of the situation before him, he had only one thing in his determined mind, the solution of exterminating a being that threatened the peace for the Xianzhou Luofu; You.

The boy took his stance, his flying swords once again stationed behind him, but a sudden deep voice emerges from behind him, only startling the whole battlefield in his appearance.

“Yanqing. Well done in keeping the adversary at bay.”

A commanding presence immediately intensified the trickling air of tension, only leaving sounds of sharp breaths and your continuous argument with yourself.

Hush.

Huh?

You fall into silence to its bidding, only to look around to the young boy, who was now accompanied with the famous Arbiter General, holding a glaive that had a threatening presence, along with the General himself.

“I apologies for my tardiness Mr. Yang. I had matters to tend to.” The strong presence spoke, his eyes hovering upon your naked, yet coated state, assessing the situation with an unknown gleam in his eyes.

“Where of Stelle and March?” The man with glasses walked beside him, mirroring his gaze upon the beautiful woman before their sights.

“I sent message to the High Elder Vidyadhra medic to tend to their wounds, not to worry, they will be back.” He said faced to him with a knowing smile, only causing goosebumps to your skin, he was taking in this stage you set lightly, only irritating the voice in your head slightly.

“Now... What of the contexts of this fascinating situation?” The Arbiter General's penetrating gaze returns to you, eyeing your undeniable attracting form. You were oblivious, but the voice wasn't.

Leave the premises, now.

Wha? W- Who are you to tell me what t—

The throbbing had begun once again. Their conversations sealed upon noticing your actions as your hands gripped tightly around your head, whimpering in place.

“S- Stop...”

No. If you perish, I-

...

Leave, woman.

“Is she...?” The Arbiter General looks towards the man with the glasses, his eyebrow raised slightly in speculation.

“She's... She had been at this state for more than a few minutes since earlier...” He frowned, gripping his cane, being reminded of fragments from his life that whispered evily to him.

“Who cares? Let's extinguish her presence already General!” Impatient, the young boy firmed his grasp around the hilt of his sword of ice, pointing the tip of the sharpness towards you, his sky filled eyes sending daggers to your direction with determination.

“Patience little lieutenant. One does not rush in unknown, trifling matters.” The General warns with a faint smile that doesn't reach to his eyes, and without a choice from the tone of command, the young boy's will wavers with a sigh, lowering his blade in defeat.

“P- Please, end me...”

Your words grasped the attention of the trio, while your tears began to flow, taking note of your willingness to submit in defeat.

“See?! Even—” The young boy gets cut off once more, earning a serious glare from the General that hushed him almost immediately.

“Please I-... I'm sorry for causing harm...” You continued to sob quietly, gritting your teeth while your head continued to throb mercilessly with ruthless, familiar pain.

I said leave now, and I'll cease the pain.

The Arbiter General takes a step forward, his left hand holding the body of his glaive, no words left needed to describe that despite his aloof hold around his weapon, he was more than ready for any attempt of violent assault.

NOW.

Mirroring the gesture of his, you took a step back abiding the voice's word, your glistening, heterochromic eyes lock with the readied General, only fascinating him further from your saddened, alluring gaze. Noticing your hesitancy for closeness.

“...My lady, if you escape this very moment, I will make sure that every inch of the Xianzhou Luofu will be well guarded, awaiting your presence in every corner you find yourself in to hide away from our— from my grasp.”

A silence from him ensued for a few long moments, following a faint warning smile from earlier, his gaze unwavering towards you while you weeped, assuming you aren't able to grasp his own chords.

“I- I do not... wish to harm anyo—”

“You're right my lady, I won't allow it.” He came closer, moving towards you with delicacy in his footsteps.

“ ... ”

...

...Stubborn child.

“Don't go, my lady.”

“It- It hurts... My head... General I-”

“Our High Elder Vidyadhra apothecary will assist you.” The General says firmly with undertones of softness, taking another step forward, but you remained still, weeping in silence from the continuous throbbing and regeneration of the nerves that seethed you repeatedly.

He manipulates.

S- Stop the—hhnghk... Please...

His experienced words, eons worth of vocabulary, coming into fruition, laying the power of syllables onto you. Do not—

I DON'T- I CANNOT CARE FROM THE UNBEARABLE PAIN YOU CONTINUE TO MAKE ME SUFFER IN!

A befitting punishment for your unwilling soul.

“I- I didn't mean to... General I- Hnnhk—...” Your form staggers, suffering from the internal turmoil that resumed, collapsing in place—but before you hit the floor, the sensation of warmth arrived behind your lower back and waist.

You found your crystalized golden core, your bare, coated chest pressed up against a man with command, towering and holding your suddenly weakened state that matched a situation one again in prior events.

“Jing Yuan.” He said, lowering his own golden to you, his expression, hidden with enthrall from your weakened state.

You hear the voice click its tongue.

“I'm sorry... I'm sorry... I'm so—”

“Hush my lady,” He said in his low, husk voice, holding your weakened body, his hand firming against the soft, coated and warming flesh of your waist, stirring a once familiar sensation that rooted in his stomach.

“General Jing Yuan—” The young boy averted his gaze with a slight flush in his cheeks. Jing Yuan had not heard him, lest deciding to tend to the injured Cloud Knights instead, grumbling under his breath.

The man with glasses came closer to the two of you, his gaze feigning ignorance on the display.

“Miss... What—” He gets cut off, both men alarmed from your sudden intense grip around his biceps, your golden, crystalized core beaming, pulsating rapidly along with your quickened breath.

A golden ray of light erupted from you surrounding you vertically in a circle, sending the light up towards the sky endlessly, alerting everyone who bore witness to the intense display.

So be it.

A powerful, echoing screech escaped your mouth, tilting your head up to the direction of the clouds that welcomed your gaze as rubbles of cement from the previous struggles of the battle began to levitate the surroundings.

”ᚷᚨᚺ ᛉᚨᚾ ᛏᚨᚲ ᚷᚨᚺ ᛉᚨᚾ ᛏᚨᛏ ᛏᚨᛏ ᛒᚱᚨᚲ”

I claim your soul, little child of the Hunt.

You will be my host, my pure, imperfection of despair.

Only I shall intertwine with you, body, mind and soul eternally.

And this mortal, blessed with the lightning guardian spirit, shall be your first prey.

3:00 PM — CLOUDFORD, XIANZHOU LUOFU

The eruption commences.

how ironic, this fic being my first successful hsr fic ended up being the reason why i got my ppl pleasing tendencies back pfft. anyways, reblogs help my audience reach, thank you!

[mrs5sn0w]

Serenade of Shadows

I : A Dance of Shadows -> II : Whisper of Deceit -> III : A Symphony of Heartbreak -> IV: Fractured Reflections -> V : Shadows of Allegiance -> VI : Echoes of Decent

Series Masterlist

Young!Coriolanus Snow x Fem!reader

warnings: Arranged marriage, MILD ANGST, unrequited love, friends to enemies, enemies to lovers

Reader's surname : Flare

Time frame: Before, during and after tbosbas

Synopsis: In the events of Panem's political dynamics and the 10th annual Hunger Games, Coriolanus Snow and her find themselves entwined. Standing at the brink of an enforced union, 6 years later, their mutual trust unravels amidst a damaging misinterpretation, prompting Coriolanus to believe the wrong. As the glacial barriers guarding his emotions begin to melt, a revelation of profound feelings unfolds, initiating a sprint against time for redemption.

Coriolanus Snow, his mind a tempest of resentment and frustration, watched her retreat from the balcony. The air in the room hung heavy with the aftermath of their verbal clash, a battlefield of emotions where neither emerged unscathed.

As the door closed behind her, the room became a chamber of solitude, echoing with the haunting melodies of a loveless marriage. Snow's inner monologue, a symphony of bitterness, played out in the recesses of his thoughts.

"How did it come to this? A marriage that was supposed to be a strategic alliance has become a suffocating tangle of emotions. She is a woman I married for power, now challenges the very foundations of my carefully constructed existence."

The vivid memory of their confrontation at the balcony gnawed at him. His indifference, a fortress he had cultivated for survival, had been pierced by her words. Yet, the bitter taste of resentment lingered, refusing to be washed away by the Capitol's opulence.

"Lucy Gray Baird, a name I buried deep within, resurrected by her audacious tongue. The mere mention of Lucy Gray unleashes a storm of memories, a Pandora's box of emotions I long thought sealed."

In the privacy of his thoughts, Snow grappled with the ghosts of his past. Lucy Gray, the girl from the 10th Annual Hunger Games, had been a spark of humanity in a world that demanded heartlessness. Mrs Snow, or rather Ms Flare as he calls her, however, was a different challenge—an embodiment of Capitol expectations, a living reminder of the sacrifices demanded by power.

“She challenges me, questions the very essence of what I've become. The Capitol expects conformity, but she refuses to play the obedient wife. Her words sting, and yet, a part of me wonders if I am the monster she paints me to be."

The recollection of an incident, a pivotal moment that almost tipped the scales towards irreversible darkness, flashed in his mind—a rebel attack during a public speech. The President, had shielded his wife whom he hates most from a threat that sought to extinguish his existence.

The rebel attack had shattered the illusion of control, and chaos reigned as panic rippled through the crowd. In the midst of the mayhem, Coriolanus Snow's mind worked with a calculated precision, seizing the opportunity to manipulate the narrative to his advantage.

As the glass hurtled through the air towards the First Lady, Snow's eyes widened, not in shock, but in a calculated realisation. In that split second, he saw an opportunity—an opportunity to position himself as the saviour, the protector, and to ensure that she remained alive, at least until he could extract the full potential of her family's power of railroad business.

“Coryo ?" Her voice trembled, the fear in her eyes reflecting the disarray that had befallen the once-controlled environment, calling him by his nickname out of fear.

In response, Snow, a cunning puppeteer manipulating the strings of the situation, took decisive action.

“Get down!"

His command carried an authority that transcended their strained relationship. It was a directive, a calculated move to both protect her and reinforce his image as the authoritative figure in the face of rebellion.

As she hesitated, caught in the crossfire of rebellion, the glass sailed towards her. Snow, swift and deliberate, stepped forward, positioning himself between her and the imminent threat. The trajectory of the glass changed, its intended victim now obscured by the President himself.

The glass collided with Snow, and a shard found its mark, leaving him with a light but visible injury. Yet, the pain, though physical, was a small price to pay for the strategic advantage he gained.

"Sir, we need to evacuate! There might be more attacks!"

A voice from his security detail shouted amidst the confusion.

Snow, gritting his teeth against the pain, nodded, his eyes never leaving her.

"Get her to safety."

His order was concise, the words carrying a weight that hinted at a complexity beyond the immediate threat.

As she was ushered away by the security detail, her gaze locked with Snow's.

"Are you alright ?"

Her words held a genuine concern, a question that demanded a response beyond the physical injury.

Snow, his mind already spinning the narrative in his favour, managed a curt nod.

"I'll be fine. Just ensure your safety."

His words, though seemingly selfless, were laced with a subtle reminder of the debt owed.

"We can't let these rebels disrupt our way of life, sir. We need to show strength against such threats." Another member of the security detail chimed in, the sentiment aligning with Snow's own agenda.

"We'll make an example of those who dare challenge the Capitol. But first, tend to the wounded." Snow's tone was authoritative, his gaze still fixed on her as she was led away.

The rebel attack, though quelled, had left its mark. Snow, now nursing his injury, knew that this incident could be melded into a powerful narrative—a tale of sacrifice, resilience, and strength against dissent.

As they retreated from the grand hall, the echoes of the rebellion still lingering, Snow's mind was already at work, weaving the incident into the grand tapestry of Capitol politics. The rebel attack had been repelled, but in its wake, Snow had gained not only a strategic advantage but a hold on the fragile threads of her fate. It was a victory, not just against the rebels, but in the silent, shadowed game of power that played out behind the dazzling facade of the Capitol.

The air was thick with tension as security personnel rushed to secure the area and attend to the wounded. Coriolanus Snow, nursing his injury, moved with a calculated grace as he made his way to a more private space, away from the prying eyes of the Capitol.

His wife, guided by a concerned security detail, followed closely. The gravity of the situation hung heavy between them, the unspoken acknowledgment of a debt owed and a connection forged in the face of rebellion.

In a secluded room, she took charge. The grandeur of Capitol politics faded, revealing the vulnerability beneath the carefully constructed facade. Snow, despite his usual air of authority, allowed her to tend to his injury.

"Coryo?" Her voice, a whisper in the hushed aftermath, carried a note of concern. She dared to address him by the nickname, a gesture that hinted at a shift in the dynamics between them.

Snow, though still stoic, acknowledged her presence with a subtle nod. His eyes, usually guarded, betrayed a flicker of vulnerability as she inspected the wound. The shard had left a superficial but visible cut on his shoulder.

"You should've let me die,"

He remarked, the words heavy with the weight of disdain for the woman who held the potential key to his aspirations.

The first lady, focused on her task, responded without hesitation.

"I won't let you die."

Her hands worked swiftly, cleaning and dressing the wound. The air was thick with tension,

"Why?" Snow's question, uttered with a hint of curiosity, hung in the air. The complexity of the moment bore down on them, the rebel attack a mere backdrop to the intricate dance of power and vulnerability.

With her gaze steady, she met his eyes.

"Because I'm not like you. Despite everything, I can't just stand by and watch someone I care about suffer." Her words, though tinged with the pain of their strained relationship, held a conviction that made Snow pause.

"You could have let me die and taken advantage of the chaos," Snow mused, his tone a mixture of contemplation and resentment.

"Taken advantage how and why exactly ?"

She finished the dressing then locking eyes with him, discontinuing her question, she then added

"Besides, that's the difference between us, Snow. No matter how much you've hurt me, I can't turn my back on someone I once cared about. I won't let them strip away my humanity."

The conversation lingered in the air, a testament to the fractures in their relationship. The rebel attack, though thwarted, had exposed the vulnerabilities beneath their Capitol personas.

As they exited the room, the unspoken tension between them trailed like a shadow, a reminder of a connection strained by power and the remnants of a once-deep bond. The rebel attack, a mere catalyst, had unraveled a complex web of emotions, leaving them to grapple with the aftermath in the corridors of Capitol authority.

The incident, a turning point in their entangled narrative, injected a dose of ambivalence into his feelings. Hatred and gratitude danced a precarious waltz within him.

The Capitol's demands grew more stringent, and her defiance became a thorn in the carefully cultivated image of President Snow. The public appearances, the forced smiles, and the facade of unity clashed with the internal turmoil.

"The Capitol revels in the illusion of perfection. Our loveless marriage is a spectacle, a tragic play that demands flawless performances. Yet, her refusal to conform threatens the very script I've authored for our lives."

In the quiet moments of introspection, Snow found himself grappling with a question that refused to be silenced

"Could it have been different if Lucy Gray stood in Flare's shoes? Would the Capitol's expectations have been met more effortlessly with the girl from District 12 by my side?"

The answer, elusive and shrouded in the complexities of his own psyche, haunted his contemplations.

"Lucy Gray, the one who saw through me, the one I couldn't control. Ms Flare, the one who challenges me, who refuses to be a puppet. Each a reflection of a different truth, a truth that makes the walls of my carefully constructed world crumble."

As the days turned into weeks, the cracks in their marriage deepened. The refusal to share a bed, the bitter exchanges, and the persistent defiance painted a portrait of a union hanging by a fragile thread.

He had fully forgotten who took care of his injury.

Amid the ruins of their marriage, Snow found himself haunted by a realization. She, for all her defiance, was a constant presence he couldn't escape.

"She challenges me, defies the Capitol, and yet, she remains. A thorn in my side, a reminder of the compromises demanded by power. The Capitol may revel in perfection, but our imperfect dance continues, a discordant melody in the grand symphony of Panem."

In the quiet stillness of the night, Coriolanus Snow stood at the threshold of their bedroom, watching her sleep on the solitary refuge of the sofa. The grand bed, adorned with memories now tainted by bitterness, seemed to mock him with its empty expanse.

As moonlight cast a delicate glow upon her features, Snow couldn't help but be captivated by the peaceful slumber that graced her. The tumultuous lines of defiance, etched upon her face in waking hours, faded away, leaving behind a serene vulnerability that was impossible to deny.

A pang of guilt crept within Snow's thoughts as he observed her in the soft embrace of sleep. She was a constant presence he couldn't escape, even in the solitude of their shared residence. The realization haunted him—a thorn in his side, a reminder of the compromises entwined with the pursuit of power.

As the Capitol slept in the deceptive allure of its opulence, Snow found himself wrestling with conflicting emotions. She challenged him, defied the Capitol, and yet, she remained—an indelible presence that lingered in the shadows of his contemplations.

Snow, restless in his thoughts, couldn't escape the haunting image of her. There she was, on the sofa, shivering in the cold embrace of the room. Her beauty, undeniable even in the vulnerability of sleep, tugged at something buried deep within him.

A twinge of remorse settled in his chest for relegating her to the sofa while he occupied the grand bed. The inappropriateness of their positions mirrored the fractures within their marriage, a reflection of the sacrifices demanded by the Capitol's unforgiving expectations. He questioned the decisions that had led them to this point, the choices made in the pursuit of power and control.

Unable to ignore the stirring within him, Snow rose from the bed. His steps were quiet, deliberate, as he approached her. The soft glow of the moonlight outlined her features, and for a moment, he saw beyond the politics, beyond the manipulations.

Gently, he lifted her figure, cradling her with a care that seemed at odds with the ruthlessness he exhibited in the daylight. The weight of her in his arms felt both burdensome and strangely comforting. He carried her to the bed, laying her down with a tenderness that contradicted the harsh realities of their world.

The duvet, a luxurious fabric that spoke of Capitol excess, was drawn over her. He paused for a moment, watching her sleep with a sense of guilt and obligation. It was a quiet repayment, an acknowledgment of the debt owed when she tended to his injury during the rebel attack.

As he stood by the bedside, a wave of conflicting emotions washed over him. The Capitol demanded sacrifices, but in the stillness of the night, he grappled with the notion that perhaps some sacrifices were too steep.

His thoughts, however, were interrupted as she stirred in her sleep. Confusion clouded her waking eyes, momentarily disoriented by the change in surroundings. Snow, ever the master of composed demeanor, waited in the shadows, his mind racing with unspoken questions.

She blinked, adjusting to the dim light, and the confusion in her eyes gradually gave way to recognition. Yet, instead of questioning her altered surroundings, she shrugged it off with a nonchalant dismissal. It was a testament to the resilience she carried, a defiance against the oppressive weight of their world.

In that moment, as she settled back into a peaceful slumber, Snow found himself questioning the narratives that had shaped his perception of her.

Was she truly the one who had betrayed him to Dean Casca Highbottom during the 10th Annual Hunger Games, or were there layers to her that defied the simplicity of his assumptions ?

He couldn’t escape the thoughts of her family, the influential figures in the railroad business, their wealth intricately tied to the veins of Panem’s transportation. The clinking of metal against metal echoed in his mind, a symbolic resonance of their family’s vast empire, built on the tracks that connected districts.

His contemplations lingered in the shadows, torn between the duty to power and the unspoken complexities of a connection that refused to be silenced.

The room, once again cloaked in silence, held the answers to questions he hesitated to ask. Love, power, and the enigmatic dance between duty and vulnerability continued to weave their intricate patterns in the quiet hours of the night. As Snow retreated to his thoughts, the moon casting its glow on a world steeped in complexity, the Capitol slept on, unaware of the turmoil playing out behind the facades of opulence and control.

The fractured reflections of his emotions mirrored the complexities of the world he navigated. Love, power, and the price paid for conformity converged in a tumultuous dance, each step revealing the intricate patterns of a life entangled in the expectations of Panem.

The weeks unfolded like a series of calculated movements on a chessboard. Her role as the First Lady demanded appearances at public events, alongside Snow, where their carefully orchestrated display of unity clashed with the underlying tensions. The Capitol's eyes were always watchful, scrutinizing every gesture, every smile, seeking flaws in the flawless facade.

As they attended meetings, her decisions sparked silent discontent in Snow. She navigated the political landscape with a subtle authority, making choices that reflected her individual agency. The unspoken resentment simmered beneath the surface, an undercurrent that threatened to pull them further apart.

During one pivotal meeting, she proposed a policy that diverged from Snow's expectations. The exchange that followed became a community of their strained partnership

"do you think it wise to make decisions without consulting me first ?"

"Coriolanus, my role as the First Lady extends beyond decorative appearances. I have a voice, and I intend to use it for the betterment of Panem."

The tension in the room mirrored the growing distance between them. Snow's control over the narrative of their union was slipping, and he felt the weight of his vulnerability.

"She challenges not only my authority but the very foundation of Capitol norms. Is this rebellion or naivety? Regardless, her decisions amplify the fractures in our marriage, exposing the delicate balance we precariously maintain."

Yet, amidst the clashes, there were moments when their shared history surfaced—a glimmer of the connection that had once been more than a political alliance.

One evening, after a particularly grueling day of Capitol duties, they found themselves alone in the residence. The silence hung between them, heavy with unspoken words and unresolved tensions.

"Coriolanus, we can't keep living like this. Our marriage, our partnership, it's unraveling."

"Perhaps it was never meant to be more than a facade, a marriage of convenience."

"But we were more than that once. There was a time when our dreams defied the Capitol's constraints."

Her words, a plea for acknowledgment, echoed through the room. Snow's gaze softened momentarily, the hardened exterior revealing a glimpse of the man he used to be.

"The Capitol changes people. It demands conformity, and we, too, have succumbed to its influence."

The admission hung in the air, a confession of the price they paid for power. In that vulnerable moment, the invisible threads that bound them tightened.

"Can we reclaim what was lost, or are we forever tangled in the web of Capitol expectations? her plea lingers in my thoughts, a haunting reminder that beneath the layers of bitterness, there remains a shared history—a history that refuses to be erased."

Days turned into a relentless cycle of public appearances, meetings, and forced smiles. The masquerade of their union continued, leaving them both entangled in the performance of a lifetime. The Capitol's grip tightened, and Snow found himself increasingly isolated, grappling with the conflicting emotions that surged within.

"Isolation, a consequence of power. The higher I climb, the lonelier it becomes. Her presence, both a comfort and a source of conflict, underscores the delicate balance between love and duty.

TAGLIST : @cookielovesbook-akie @rosewine-5 @princessloveweird @randomgurl2326

[seralyra]

Grian is an enigma in the Life Series. He’s playing to win. He’s ruthless. But he’s also fiercely loyal and the dichotomy of those two aspects messes him up so bad every time.

He is the victim of his own nature. Grian forges alliances out of necessity. Because that’s what he needs to succeed. But he stays because he’s growing attached to his allies every time. No matter how hard he fights against it. How much he rebels against the bonds he creates. He always ends up staying. And he always ends up alone.

The most obvious is Scar. Grian is his ally in 3rd Life. He bonds with him out of obligation and stays because he can’t find it in himself to leave. And in Double Life he tries to get away from Scar, but let’s not forget that he is the one to seek Scar out in the first place. And He’s not the one to use that golden apple. It’s Pearl. Even though he was the one who suggested creating an item to break bonds.

He’s the one to talk Scar into basing together. And while he is secret soulmates with BigB he always comes back to Scar. In Limited Life it is obvious, too. Grian never really attacks Scar without being provoked first. Whenever the two are alone together they just talk and tease each other. And while Grian desperately tries to keep his distance, to make sure they are not allied. He ends up becoming family anyway.

Last Life was a bit of an outlier. But Mumbo was in Last Life and Grian will always fixate on Mumbo first. And even then Grian still couldn’t help but go to Scar after he turned red to give him his stuff back and comfort him.

Jimmy is another case. Whenever he is allied with Grian there will always be an attempt at kicking him out of the group. But it never feels too serious. Grian is used to teasing Jimmy. And ultimately Grian tends to be the voice of reason in the groups he ends up in. The Southlands fell apart as soon as Grian turned red and was kicked out. And the Bad Boys would have died of stupid stunts much earlier if Grian didn’t give them a few things to focus on instead.

Grian is constantly in denial. Yes, Grian, this game as no rules. Now who are you bending those rules for, hm? Oh, allyships don’t matter? Then why are you chosing to stay when all you do is complain about your partners?

It’s because he can’t decide what’s more important to him: Winning or friendship.

His very nature kicks him in the butt every time. He’s so lovely undecided in what he wants. He’s a bastard. He loves chaos. He shoves people off bridges and pushes buttons and is surprised when people die because of it.

He also hates betrayals. Grian doesn’t much care for accidental deaths, but he won’t stand for any backstabbing. And so he’s ruthless in his judgement. He kills Mumbo for it. And Jimmy. And he would have killed Scar for it in 3rd Life, too, had Scar not proven to him that he had not betrayed him.

They are all their own curse. Jimmy and Joel and Grian. They fail because their nature always gets the better of them. Jimmy picks fights he can’t win and let’s himself be strung along crazy missions. Joel falls for his own funny, but oftentimes dangerous ideas and let’s panic consume him once he’s confronted with his consequences.

And Grian is always the downfall for his partners because he can never decide whether he wants to go or stay and just has to cause mayhem wherever he goes.

I think all of that shines through so clearly this season because they are all more careless. They can die more often and that, funnily enough, makes them all have more time to actually act on their nature.

Of course, I know in the end they are just a group of friends having fun playing a game. But in a narrative sense this tickles my brain so bad.

[verycherry1]

Pike Roast. {Carmen Berzatto}

Maybe you dropped in at the wrong time, or maybe Carmen was right, you overstepped your boundaries. Your phone vibrated before your mind could relive the dispute from earlier. 

{My actions were poor} 

{know that I appreciate you.}

The dry apology made you want to throw your phone into the depths of Chicago traffic as you waited to cross the next street over to your complex. You felt your heart sink to the soles of your boots while your thoughts consumed the events from earlier.

“Nobody asked you too. Alright? I made it clear we’re not a couple.” He spat with such repulse, face reflecting more heat than the two cups of coffee you had in your hands. 

You couldn’t formulate any sort of response to strike back. In fact, you wouldn’t even ponder the idea of cutting him open the way he butchered you in front of his staff. Instead, you rolled your lips between your teeth and sealed your exit out of the restaurant with a nod of your head. 

He huffed at the sight of you discarding the cups of coffee in the public trash can, shoving your hands in the pockets of your jacket as you sprinted further away from The Beef. 

“Bit harsh cousin, don’t ya thi-“

“Richie, shut the fuck up and fucking. move.” he seethed, storming past his staff and entering the solitary of the walk-in to cool down his frustrations.

It has been days since you heard from him, his piercing words still fresh each time you gave it a thought. Carmen was right, you weren’t a couple but in the course of 6 months of nonstop fucking, the both of you managed to do everything couples do. The farmers market dates, taking advantage of happy hour before his shift, he even bought a set of knives to keep at your place. 

“I can’t work with cheap Amazon cooking supplies.” He’d mention to you while preparing dinner in your kitchen for the 3rd night in a row. 

There were even several nights you crashed at his place in hopes of silencing his frequent night terrors and oncoming panic attacks. Whenever he felt the sudden discomfort of his chest closing in on him, he would immediately find your presence. You’d spend hours running your fingers through his curls, massaging the strained vein on the side of his temples until he was able to control his breathing. 

In Carmen’s defense, he made sure to communicate with you from the beginning he didn’t have a romantic bone in his body. That your relationship was strictly casual because, in his terms, he wasn’t built like his brother who was quick-witted, charming, and could give you the qualities of being a boyfriend.

“wish there was more time in a day, ya know?” He confessed over a smoked bourbon a week prior to your fallout. 

“Why? So you can marinate every poultry you have in your inventory.” You snorted, stirring the contents of your Mojito before pressing your painted lips to the straw. 

“Just wanted to make more time for you.”  

---

You had the cheesiest grin on your face walking into the Berzatto-owned restaurant with a cup of coffee in each hand. You’re too stimulated with happy heart syndrome reminiscing his proclamation of wanting to make more time for the both of you, you don’t realize the chaos you walked into. 

“Hey, is everything alright?” 

You can tell he’s overwhelmed, and your question only files his irritation further. 

“Context clues, does it look alright?” He lets out a heavy sigh that’s muffled by the telephone constantly ringing. 

“Heard. Can I do anything to help?”

“No. “

“I brought you a Pike Roast.” 

He shuts his eyes tight, trying to compose himself over the current mayhem of the restaurant. “Thank you but by the time I get ‘round to it, it’ll be cold.” 

“Just throw it in the microwave.” you smile, attempting to make your way to his office.

His body steps in front of yours before you can make it any further “No, it’s fine really.” 

“Carmen, it’s just coffee. It can be reh-“

“(Y/N), I’ll catch up with you later. Please just go.” 

“Okay, I will but I know you’ll look forward to a pick me up lat-“

“(Y/N), I don’t have time right now.” 

“I’ll leave. Let me just put this on your desk and if you don’t want it later, you can just thr-“

There’s a sudden outburst within him that decompresses the moment his fist meets the to-go printer that sends it flying past you, a string of orders still attached. 

“I don’t know how many times I have to fucking repeat myself” He hollers causing your frame to flinch backward. “Fuck off, alright?” He continues to shout, pupils dilated with the vein on his neck prompting out from the skin. “I’m in the fuckin process of something, now get the fuck out of my restaurant and find a fuckin hobby.” 

His verbal abuse had you on a display of embarrassment. The shrill tone of Carmen’s voice had your body stuck in a stiff posture with a quiet, dejected look. Blinking back the pinpricks that crawled across your eyes, you managed to mumble “I just wanted to make more time..”

“Nobody asked you too. Alright? I made it clear we’re not a couple.” 

---

{I'd like to stop by sometime this week, I owe you a cup of coffee."}

[lovebugism]

hi babe hope this isn’t too personal but not having the greatest time right now. therapist did not answer any of my calls today so im kinda a mess 🥲🥲 if you’re willing to write any kind of comfort fic with any character that would be the best 💗💗💗

hi anon! i hope things are going better now! take this eddie munson comfort fic as my attempts to make you feel a wee bit better ily mwah <3

You were pretty good at taking care of yourself most of the time. Eddie always thought your innate sense of responsibility was extremely hot — mostly because it meant that you were even better at taking care of him.

He said it was a perk of being your boyfriend — “one of many,” he’d say, just before smacking a kiss to your cheek.

You were the yin to his yang in that way. Peace in all his chaos.

Eddie, himself, was a being who thrived on mayhem. There wasn’t a single thing he loved more than unpredictability — well, you, of course. Then maybe DnD. But spontaneity was a close third.

He isn’t quite sure how to live his life without the company of total disarray. He isn’t sure he would want to if he had the chance either. The unexpected makes things fun. At least, that’s what he always tells you. You’re not so sure.

When he makes you late to things because of his horrible time management skills, or he can’t find his keys because they’re hidden somewhere underneath a pile of clothes in the corner of his room, it feels a little like the end of the world.

And not just in the oh no, this thing is really stressing me out; good thing I know it’s illogical sort of way. But in the oh fuck, we’re gonna be ten minutes late to this get-together where there are zero consequences whether we show up or not, but it’s inducing so much panic that I’m not sure how long I’ll be able to function properly.

You’ve gotten pretty good at hiding your fear over the years. It’s just that Eddie’s so damn attuned to everything going on in your head that it makes it insanely difficult to wallow in your dread alone.

He knows when you start pacing and talking a million miles a minute that something’s working you up. He knows when you start getting snappy and don’t think his jokes are funny anymore that you’re close to your breaking point. He knows when you stop talking altogether that your entire world is caving in around you.

So Eddie takes great care in getting to things on time and tidying up his room when you're around. He doesn’t even care that he finds it all a bit irrational, he just wants to make things easier for you. Even if it means getting to Steve’s house an hour before everyone else or actually folding his clothes before putting them in drawers.

Eddie knows you use structure like a weapon rather than a shield. Organization isn't a way to keep your life together, it’s to keep it from falling apart. When something is out of order, when there’s one piece out of place, it’s not an easy fix — not for you. It’s more like a ticking tomb. 

You’re the ticking time bomb. And the faintest scent of disorder is bound to make you explode.

But maybe calling it a bomb isn’t the most accurate way to describe it. The way Eddie sees it, it’s a lot more like an avalanche.

It starts off small, a little rumble of uncertainty that jostles the comfort of your routine. You blink and suddenly the snowball weighs two tons and you’ve spiraled into a full-blown crisis that threatens to swallow you whole.

You don’t let anyone see any of it. Not even Eddie a lot of the time. You just bury yourself in the landslide until the heavy snow melts and you can function normally again — it may last a couple hours, maybe weeks.

So it’s a good thing Eddie can see all the warning signs before they start.

It’s all the little shit he notices first — the not showering as often, the not keeping things as tidy as usual, the closing yourself off. Eddie Munson knows a depression room when he sees one. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know you’re slipping.

But rather than acknowledge that boogeyman, he pretends like it isn’t there at all. He thinks if he acts like it doesn’t scare him, then it doesn’t have the power to hurt him. That’s exactly how he treats the funks you get into. He knows they’re there but doesn’t let them take over completely.

Eddie comes around whenever he gets the chance and helps you do your self-care routine — even though all you do is complain that you don’t need his help the entire time.

He coaxes you into the bath and tidies up your bedroom while you’re gone. He does all the steps of your skincare for you after because he knows you can’t do it yourself. You’re too tired to, but you feel like shit when you don’t. That’s the same bitter cycle that started this whole mess.

He doesn’t do anything crazy. He just takes care of the little things to make you feel less consumed by it all.

You’re a pouting mess in the middle of your bed after, freshly cleaned and drowning in a too big shirt that smells like the musk of Eddie’s cologne with a towel twisted up in your hair. It’s almost cartoonish, the way you cross your arms over your chest and scrunch your face in displeasure.

“I don’t want you to do all this stuff for me, Eds,” you gripe. “I’m a big girl, okay? I can do it myself.”

The boy shrugs from where he stands at the foot of your bed. “I know I don’t have to. I want to, though. I like doing this stuff for you.”

“You hate cleaning, Eddie.”

“Yeah. I do,” he affirms with a nod, all but flopping onto the mattress beside you. He rests his head on his fist and blinks up at you with wide, twinkling button eyes. A grin pulls at his pink lips as he asks you, “But you know what I don’t hate?”

You huff but entertain him anyway. “…What?”

“You,” he beams and taps the tip of your nose with his pointer finger.

You meet his smile with a grimace.

“Actually, I sort of love you, as it turns out,” he corrects himself in a lilt. “And when you love someone, you do the shit you hate to make them happy, right? Isn’t that what it’s all about?”

You don’t answer him, just shrug.

“Well, either way, I’m happy to do all the boring shit if it means there’s a chance I get to make you feel even a little bit better,” Eddie tells you, pinching his thumb and forefinger together and leaving just an inch or more of space to squint his eye through.

That hand flops down and lands on your thigh. His thumb absentmindedly rubs over the skin there. His smile turns sheepish.

“I will happily fold laundry and do taxes and wash dishes and… all that stupid, boring shit for you for the rest of my life, as long as I can look over and see you next to me…”

Your heart swells with a distant happiness you haven’t felt in weeks.

Eddie helps you until you feel better enough to do it yourself.

Needless to say, when he stops by your place and finds it completely spotless, he doesn’t bother to hide his excitement. He rushes to your room and finds you in bed, flipping through a book. The small radio on your bedside table plays something synth-y.

He realizes you’ve traded in The Smiths for The Psychedelic Furs and that your lavender candle is burning on your desk and that you’ve spritzed yourself in your vanilla perfume.

Those are all staples in your little routine that you borderline can’t live without. You always missed out on them when you got into your funks, but here they are again…

Eddie tries not to smile too wide.

“How’s it hangin’?” he sing-songs when he waltzes into your room.

“Fine...” you murmur, half-distracted by your novel. After a few long seconds, your eyes finally flit up to his. He’s doing a terrible job of hiding a grin. “…Why are you looking at me like that?”

Eddie shrugs as he takes off his leather jacket. He neatly lays the thing over the back of your desk chair and smooths out the wrinkles.

“‘Cause I love the shit out of you,” he answers like it’s nothing, like the words don’t mean everything to you. “And I’m really fucking proud of you.”

“Proud of me?” you echo in a scoff.

Because, to you, crawling out of a three week long funk is hardly something to be proud of. You don’t feel like you should be rewarded for being human, but Eddie knows that getting through the hard shit is a part of being human. And he’s so goddamn proud of you for it.

“Yep,” he nods with pink cheeks and a hopeful grin. “I’ve never been prouder of you, babe. And, like, I’m always proud of you, so that’s saying something.”

“Shut up,” you mutter under your breath. Your attention flits back to your book rather than focusing on the intense gaze Eddie looks at you with. You don’t get through a single sentence before he rips the thing from your hands. “Eddie!—”

You look at him again and find that he’s sterner now, but still so tender — chocolate eyes hardened but soft around the edges. There’s a kind grin on his and an air about him that tells you he’s serious. 

Eddie rounds your bed and plants himself at the edge of it. He keeps your book hostage in one hand and holds onto your calf with the other, running his thumb over the soft skin of your knee.

“I’m serious,” he tells you. “Like, I know shit gets hard for you sometimes, but... I don't know, watching you get through it is… really fucking cool, babe.”

He laughs when it makes you laugh.

“Seriously. It’s like you get stronger every day, and… not to be a total sap or whatever, but I feel really lucky that I get to see it.”

You’re not sure whether to duck away from his gaze or revel in its warmth. You manage somehow to do both with a distant pout on your face. 

Eddie’s grin widens until the dimple in his right cheek reveals itself.  “What?” he laughs. “What’s that look for?”

“‘Cause you’re nice to me,” you mumble like the cutest little storm cloud. “And it’s gross… And also I love you.”

“Well, get ready, babe. You got a whole lifetime of me being nice to you coming your way, so… Be prepared to be sick of me by the time we’re all old and wrinkly, alright? ‘Cause I’m still gonna love the shit outta you then.”

You grumble when he smacks a kiss to your knee.

You hope he keeps his promise.

[alice-angel12x]

Death is always around the Corner

Idia + Death!Reader+ Ö̵̗̭͙̠͍̙̬̦̬̺͙̻̻̰̮́͌̈́͑̅̉̉͆̄̓̉̒͝͝ͅř̵̡̨̡̞̦̩̰͖͚͕͙́̑̎̆̏̐͂̀́͒̿͆̆̆̀̿̐̀͂͊̀͑́̅̈́̚t̴̛̛͖͚͑̽͑̓͋̒̈̈́̀̔́̌͒̆͘͝͠ẖ̵͚̦̫̫̻͔̤͚̺̬̗̥͇̾̈͐̎̿̊̋̄̉͑̅͑̊̊̍́̿̚ͅơ̵̛̹̯̤̟̔̍̋͗͗̾͆̒̏̋̉͐͛̿͆̇̈͆̈́̈́̔͝͠

Riddle, Leona, Azul, Jamil, Vil, Iida, Malleus

Masterlist

Let's set the scene:

So it was finally that time again, I will not let you get in the way of my work Shroud. The shroud company, through blessing or curse from Hades. Made it very difficult to find the Isle of woe to be by mortals, or Death itself. Memories from times of old began to resurface.

" Look at this cute little pie. We would like to thank you all for the gifts on behalf of our son," Zeus smiled. " Oh, so precious. How absolutely heart-warming. I haven’t felt this choked up since I got some moussaka stuck in my throat," Hades said, trying to make a joke. "Don’t look so glum, chum. Come and join the celebrations!" Zeus invited. " I’d love to, but unfortunately, I can’t leave my post thanks to the work you graciously “bestowed” upon me. Love to stay, but sadly can’t!" Hades said as he backed away. "Come now, you’ll work yourself to death!NGet it? To death! I could kill myself laughing!" Zeus laughed as the rest of the party joined him. " Ugh, if only…!" Hades scoffed to himself.

As Hades returned to the underworld, his two minions Pain and Panic came running with news.

"BOSS! BOSS!" Panic cried out.

"What! What is it!? I am Not in the mood," Hades scowled.

"T-T-The Boss! The Big Boss is back!" the two screamed.

"After all this time, this could be a great opportunity," Hades smirked.

The God quickly made his way to a simply room that belonged to the one and only, Death. The room was simple, it had one throne that was placed by the window. That over looked the river of Souls.

"Hey, Death! The Big Boss, Head honcho, Top dog! How've yeah been?" Hades greeted his long time boss and friend. "How was the travel, travel good brought souvenir?"

"Hmm, oh. Hello Hades," Death greeted, snapped out of their thoughts. "You needed something?"

"So I have plans for Mayhem, your favorite," Hades smirked as he went on to explain his plans.

But he noticed that something was different about his underworld friend. The bloodthirst chaos loving friend was not present, instead this sad and mellow person sat before him.

"Um Who are you and you know what happened to Death?" Hades asked.

"Just a new perspective I guess. As for your plan. If that's what you really want I won't stop you, though I'm afraid I will not join you," Death said calmly.

"Okay, no seriously what happened to you. What happened to the King/Queen of terror and dread?" Hades asked.

"I guess like you I'm also tired of ruling the dead and this place," Death sighed as they looked back at the underworld.

__________________

Death would be confided Hades. The only other high being that would associate with them. Even if they were never Hade's first choice.

But Death told Hades about the many changes to come. Like how they plan to eventually get rid of the underworld. Their symbol and trophy to rub into Life's face of their power over said, god.

Hades did not like this much. But he was confident he would take over Olympus before that would happen. But of course, things didn't go that way.

So as not to lose anything else, using the last of his power to hide the remaining piece of the underworld and a few mortal followers. Becoming the Isle of woe.

__________________

Y/n knew that this next series of events might be the only chance to find this isle of Woe. At least for a long time.

So in the middle of the night, Y/n woke Jamil and asked for his assistance.

Y/n informed Jamil what was about to go down in the morning. So they gave Jamil an enchanted necklace to hide him in plain sight. While they took on his form and be captured in his stead.

Jamil agreed to this since he doesn't like the thought of being dragged off to possibly be never seen again.

________________

~~SNAP! SNAP! CRACK! SNAP!!~~

" What are those!? They’re all flying in the sky with their– Wait, are those hoverboards!?"Kalim gasped.

"What in the world…!? Unless there are events, the school is supposed to be protected with a magical ward to keep intruders away," Vil said in a slightly nervous tone.

"No, the Barrior is breaking," 'Jamil' said.

"They’re heading this way. One, two… Incoming! Take cover, everyone!" Rook said to everyone.

"Jamil" quickly raised a shield to protect everyone from the debris and robots falling from a ceiling.

"Are you alright, Y/n?" Deuce asked as he helped "y/n" stand up.

"This is the Hepta Unit. We have visuals on Subjects D and E. Beginning Detainment Maneuvers," The bots said.

" I do not know who you are, but it is absolutely impolite to be barging in through windows! I will acknowledge this as an emergency! On my authority as the Pomefiore Prefect, you are all given permission to use magic against these intruders!" Vil said.

"Wait! Vil, I need you to think carefully," 'Jamil' said quickly. " We are outnumbered, and most of the students here are rookie wizards. You Rook, and maybe myself can last a while, but the first years."

Vil scowled as he realized Jamil's assessment was right, and they would risk a lot if they fight.

"Then what do you recommend we do?" Vil glared but gasped as he watched Jamil raise his arms and surrendered.

" What!?" Everyone gasped.

" They are only after us. If we don't resist no one will get hurt," Jamil said simply, Vil sighed in frustration as he slowly raised his hands.

_______________________________________

As the fiery robotic men loaded the overblot boys into the airship, "Jamil" gave one final look back to the school. Only to see the VDC group running in the distance, trying to reach them in time.

"Jamil" smiled warmly as the airship door began to close. My heart warmed that mortals were trying to save them-... No, save Jamil.

But It was a long Flight, and the most "Jamil" could do was let Riddle rest on their lap. When the boy woke up, he was a bit startled. But "Jamil" Was quick to comfort the boy.

But Azul quickly pointed out that "Jamil" was acting strange. So Y/n decided to let them in on the plan a bit.

So "Jamil " explained how the Isle of Woe is the only place in the world that is hidden from the eyes of Death. It is also the place where many blot monsters are stored.

The boys asked why death would care so much about Blot monsters. With "Jamil" would explain that when a person overblots, for a time they will be joined by a blot phantom.

But eventually, the phantom will consume the victim and store the person's soul deep within it. Leaving the soul in perpetual torment, till the Phantom is destroyed.

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

"And you know this how?" Leona glared.

"Cause they told me. So in my plans to get into better standing and redemption. I am willingly being their eyes, and beckon for them to track down," Jamil smirked.

"So that's why you didn't want to fight, Y/n wanted this to happen," Vil sighed in annoyance.

"They also wanted no one to get hurt," Jamil snapped back.

"So how long must we wait for Y/n to rescue us?" Azul asked nervesly.

"Only Time will decide," Jamil said.

"Umm don't you mean 'Only time can tell' ?" Riddle asked.

"No," Jamil said simply.

"So these robots are from the Isle of Woe?" Vil asked.

"They’re S.T.Y.X’s special security unit, Charon. It’s their job to capture magicians who have Overblotted so they could be transported to the Island of Woe," Leona explained, then smirked. " But the fact that not even Y/n can find this place must be a blow to their ego. Score one for mortals."

"I think you mean score one for Hades," Jamil said as he went on to explain the story of Hades, Death, and the Underworld.

Apparently, the story was so Gripping and engaging, the 4-hour flight was over in a flash. They have arrived on the Isle of Woe, with Idia there to greet them. But as soon as Jamil stepped off the airship a wave of cries and howls filled their ears, the sounds that went unheard by everyone else.

"̶w̷҉̧h͘͟y͜͝͏ h͘a͏̵v͢e̸ ̡̀͝y̡o͏u̵͠ ̛̀f̷̨͢o͜r̴̕͜s̷̢a̧͝͏k̷͠en͏̷ ͟u̧̨s̕͡,̡ ͡d͢ea̢͠͡th͟

"̴̕P̸͞l̸͝e̷͡a͝s̵͘ȩ̷,̷͢ ͟w̸̡h̸͡ȩ͏r̵e̛ ̵͝a̶̡re̷͟͞ ̸̡y̸͜o̴u̷͝ ́͞D̵̛͠e͏̀a̴t̢́̀h̷͟?̴͘͠!̡͟"͢

"̡̀͘S͘om̛̀e̸͘o͘n̶̨͜e ͘͟Pl̵e̸̶a̧ś̷̶e ̕͟͜S͢҉a͞v̸e͞ ͏̷M̷͢͝é͢͝!̢͢!̨̕"҉

The voices cried out, it was so overwhelming Y/n almost dropped their disguise. But they composed themselves and held back their tears.

As Idia put the boys through many tests, he noticed something strange about Jamil's vitals. That he didn't have any vitals or basic signs of life. Before Idia could pull Jamil aside for questioning, he was locked in the meeting room with the rest of the NRC boys.

________________________________

Idia began to question Jamil, but he didn't really answer any of the questions. Till ortho pointed out that Jamil had no body heat. So seeing no need to hide, they dropped the illusion.

Revealing Death.

Idia began to panic as he quickly stood, but before calling for hade's level to shut down. His calling device suddenly shut down from low power, and the same with some of Ortho's functions.

Y/n sat down confidently as Idia trembled in his boots, and the others sat in awe and confusion. Vil was just frustrated that he was tricked so easily.

"Y-you can't be here! The Isle of Woe is supposed to be hidden from you?!" Idia panicked.

"You can only hide from death for so long," Y/n said simply as they rested their elbows on the table.

"W-why are you here?" Idia asked slowly.

"I'm here to collect all the souls in Tartarus," Y/n said simply.

"This isn't the underworld, there are no souls to collect," Idia glared.

"That is untrue. Phantoms hold the souls of their victims and those it slaughters. I am here to collect them," Y/n said.

"but that would mean you will destroy the phantoms. But we need them to study and find a way to stop blot," Idia reasoned.

"Those 10,000 and more souls have been suffering for thousands of years. I think it's time to give them an out," Y/n replied as they stood up.

"Demands here, demands there… This isn’t a zoo, damn it. Did you forget what I said earlier? Don’t make me repeat myself again… I!!! AM!!! THE!!! BOSS!!!" Idia shouted as stood in front of Y/n, blocking their path.

"HAHAHAHAHA!!" Y/n laughed, so much so that they had to lean against the table to support themselves. "You almost remind me of Hades. But no Your not my boss, and are you okay with keeping Ortho the first in Tartarus, to suffer till the end of time? You made a machine of him, so why not let the real one go?"

Idia froze as Y/n bore into his soul when suddenly the power went out as the room went dark.

______________________________________________

Things just did not get better, as Y/n learned that Rook and Epel had tracked them down. And the blot phantoms had felt the presence of their doom. So in one last desperate attempt, they manipulated the bot Ortho. To Get Idia down to them.

With this, the isle of woe went into Chaos. The NRC boys went to go collect the thunder staff, but thanks to Y/n there were little to no phantoms standing in their way.

Y/n, in a blink of an eye, was making quick work of the phantom. Ortho was not happy about the lack of challenge to the NRC boys.

But eventually, The boy manages to push the final phantom back to Tartarus. The phantom using Ortho's voice cried out to Idia.

Idia jumped to follow his "brother" to Tartarus, but Y/n in one clean motion slayed the phantom.

______________________________________________

As Idia's memories and regrets flashed in his mind, he slowly opened his eyes to find himself in the void. As he sat up, he heard a familiar voice in the distance, he turned to See Ortho. He was sitting on death's lap as the two were talking when Ortho noticed Idia. Death helped ortho to his feet as Ortho ran to Idia and hugged him tightly.

"Thank you for looking out for me. You’ve made me so happy. But, you can’t be here yet, Big Brother," Ortho said.

"Ortho… Why? I want to go with you. We made a promise, didn’t we? And You," Idia turned to Death. " Why did you save me, I just wanted to follow Ortho."

"Because Ortho and I believe it's not your time yet," Y/n answered.

"You still have comics to read, concerts to watch, and new games to play, don’t you…? You love this world too much to give up on it completely," Ortho added.

"What!? Who said I loved this rotten world!? All that nonsense can just disappear!" Idia said as he began to tremble.

"Not everything has to make sense. You shouldn’t have to give up on anything ever again. You have your future ahead of you, Big Brother.  You see, I want you to fulfill the dreams we talked about that day," Ortho smiled.

"Our Dream?" Idia asked.

"I’m sure it will take a long time. You might feel like giving up along the way, but… I know… I’m sure you can go anywhere, Brother. It may be long and tiring, but you’ll get there someday. It’s okay. I’ll be right there with you always. Please, don’t give up," Ortho said as he gave one last squeeze of a hug. He slowly let go of Idia and turned to Death. "Okay, I'm ready to go now."

"Wait, Ortho! Death Please Don't Take Him?!" Idia begged as he watched Ortho grab Y/n's hand.

"Actually I have something special for you, and I want Idia to be there. But he needs to wake up first," Y/n explained.

"Really, I can't wait. Hurry and wake up big brother," Ortho said.

________________________________________

When Idia came to, standing over him was Y/n and some old man. Who was actually Vil? Idia shyly apologized to everyone and said he would probably never return to school.

But Grim and everyone else was not going to let him off easy, telling him to fix ramshackle at least. But the group was spooked to see the ghost of ortho next to Y/n.

"Well before you do anything else I will need you to come with me Idia," Y/n said as ortho grabbed their hand.

"H-huh W-why?" Idia asked.

"To accompany ortho and me when we go to see someone important. And I think Vil will need to come too," Y/n sighed.

"Why am I needed?" old man vil asked.

"To help with your situation," Y/n said. "And the rest of you are free to go back to the school, we will catch up."

"W-wait where are you going?" Epel asked.

"And where is this important person?" Riddle asked.

"In the void between dimensions and the worlds," Y/n answered simply.

"Who could you possibly be taking them to?" Azul asked.

"Life," Y/n smiled

______________________________________________

To be continued...

[fizzywashere87]

how would the rise or mutant mayhem twortlezzz react to have a short gremlin friend? Like would reader is short (maybe mikey's height or a bit taller) and she is a bit chaotic. Very blunt and slightly aggressive and at first seems kinda harsh but actually is very sweet once you get to know them. Also mood swings (me fr fr)

HELLO MY LITTLE SIBLING 😁😁😁I AM VERY EXCITED TO BE YOUR FIRST REQUEST AND I HOPE YOU HAVE FUN WRITING THIS!!! YOU ARE SUPER RAD BRO-BRO KEEPING BEING AWESOME 😎

HELLO MY BEAUTIFUL SIS I COULDN’T WAIT TO START WRITING THIS TYSM FOR REQUESTING!! I hope this is good, uhm, as you know it’s my first time writing so I rlly rlly hope this turns out well!! Also I don’t know enough about the mutant mayhem turtles so i don’t know if i will be writing for them atm but…ENJOY!! <333

rise! Raph-a-doodle

Okay, we already know mans is big, he could pick you up and throw you either way, he wont.

If you’re shorter than Mikey i think he might notice but i feel like he would be indifferent

He will definitely hype you up short or not :))

As for big man here, he’s gonna pick you up like a mf ragdoll Lol I thought I was funny there

Lord forbid someone ever tease you for your height >:( ”Say it again and I’ll pound you like a boss!” why did i write that

But in a way more scary tone

Your friendship is obviously like the short gremlin and the friendly giant, why would I need to explain? your short and he’s tall incase you didn’t know

Cuddles are a must if you're okay with it (platonic cuddles are a thing)

Just lay on his plastron or disappear under his arm lol

As for the chaos, he probably wouldn’t mind it as long as you're being safe

He would probably join in most of the time but he has oldest sibling syndrome :((

He does his best to keep you from danger please don’t make it too hard for him

Most times I do see him joining in on the chaos if it’s just around the lair

If it’s on patrol don’t expect him to be so careless though he is impulsive at times Raphie worries

As for your aggressiveness, I see him as the type of person to just chill and wait for you to come back when you’re doing your thing like: 🧍‍♀️

Big man is lowkey terrified of you despite the fact he’d be towering over you

I’m not gonna lie, you being kinda harsh at first would kinda put him off

He might shy away from you at first and it’s not you, it’s the demon in your mind telling you what to do 👹 it’s u

Once you warm up to everybody and you properly hang out with him he’ll be a lot more open to being around you

He’ll realize what a cutie you are (platonically) and he won’t fear you as much -if you’re loud he assumes your tough shit like that, i don’t make the rules here

He’ll be confused when he experiences your mood swings and depending on how severe they are he might panic -One second you’re: 💕🤗Then you’re: 🤬🖕

He'll be like 'uhm wtf'

But it’s okay because you’re his best friend and he loves you either way!!

rise! Neon-Leon

He’s not gonna pass up an opportunity to tease you

It's Leo dude

He's using you as an armrest and he's smug about it motherfucker

When he's not teasing you, y'all are chill

Another one to just pick you up because he can

His bitchass love him thinks it's funny when you get mad cuz ur tiny

Should ANYBODY that's not him make fun of your height just remember he has magic swords that make portals

He's going to match your chaotic energy because he's Leonardo

Y’all are gonna get in trouble a lot but he has magic swords and you’re probably awesome too so it’s okay

He'll be an asshole sometimes but you can put him in his place

He’s not gonna shy away from your aggressiveness or your blunt self but he’ll give you some space if he thinks you need it -or anger you even more

He’ll be just a bit taken aback at first from your bluntness but he bounces back quickly with his own retort -what you said wasn't even offensive, he just found the need to defend himself??

He probably provokes you and calls you 'lil gremlin in his own Leo way or sum shit

Despite his ignorant self I feel like Leo is understanding but he chooses to be a little shit about it

He will lowkey give you time to mellow out and then he gets to meet your sweet side -you might've warmed up to him after Mikey

He finds the fact that you speak your mind amusing so he doesn't get offended too easily most times -*dramatic gasp* “wHaT?! DiD?! YoU?! *points aggressively at you* JusT?! sAy! tO! mE?!”

He is going to be your bestie or your worst nightmare and it just depends on the stage of your friendship -jk he’s your friend and if he truly bothers you he would stop

Overall, you guys are just two dumbasses trying to have fun

rise! Othello Von Ryan

Doesn’t really care about how tall or short you are, but does notice your a bit lacking in the height region js a bit pooks

Probably makes you a piece of tech to help with your uhm… lack dare i say i say this as if i'm taller than 5'3"

He might have u run errands for him that might require more stealth getting illegal chemicals for him

He once mistook the top of your head as a table when he was tired not his proudest moment

You’re gonna make a good arm rest for him

Anybody makes fun of your height? There’s a virus in their device and embarrassing photos were somehow sent to that person’s entire contact list -he denies it was ever him but you know better

Your chaoticness worries him his tech's safety, not yours cuh

Probably puts you on a mf leash if you're the impulsive type

He’ll be in his lab and your lil’ gremlin self will just be there yapping away about literally anything and Donnie’s like ‘😐okay’ trying to work with your sudden outbursts where you raise your voice before going back to your normal tone he probably flinches every time you raised your voice

Appreciates you being blunt in a way, he knows if you give him a compliment, you mean it and that means way more than he chooses to admit to himself be careful he's lowkey fragile

Like Raph, he also might be put off with your harshness in the beginning but once you warm up to him, he’ll warm up to you

He’ll see how sweet you become and is ‘unbothered because he’s emotionally unavailable’

He’ll be yapping about his latest project and you’re about to go do something you probably shouldn’t

He doesn’t notice ‘til he stops and asks you a question and you’re sneaking away like: https://www.youtube.com/shorts/S9VDyPlNiz8?feature=share silly motherfucker

Can't keep up with your mood swings all the time so he'll just let you sort it out

He'll probably wait patiently

On the contrary to how he may act towards you, he really does like you

Overall you and Donnie's friendship is fun and he definitely instigates the chaos outside his lab

rise! Magic Mike

We alr know mans is a short king, he’s going to be excited to find somebody ‘round his height

The amount of small places you two will wedge yourself in oml

You two probably created a hangout spot just for the two of you you two were the only ones able to fit

Nobody's making fun of your height

Have you seen this kid?

You two just add onto each other and get into a lot of trouble

A lotta episodes js u an him getting in trouble LMFAO

If you’re taller than him you probably call him small one or sum shit you're not that much taller than him

He only allows it from you

If you're shorter than him roles are reversed

If you’re the same height, you actually aren’t, one of you has to be taller he probably won't accept defeat so goodluck shortie

He bakes and cooks with you

If you can't kitchen for shit you're now the taste tester and you're in charge of helping him reach things on high shelves

Yes you two will use each other to reach things

stand on his shoulders like in the cartoons or he'll stand on yours "Ow! Mikey! My shoulder's about to break!" "One second y/n I almost got it!"

Mikey’s not put off in the slightest by your aggressiveness in the beginning

He probably figured you out and let you open up at your pace

You being blunt honestly makes him laugh, the way you just say what you want

He's your bestie and your his fs fs

He doesn't mind your mood swings and js goes with the flow

I strongly believe he'll just match his mood with yours "omg! i love today!" "same!" 😀  "FUCK THAT!" "same!" 😡

He adores your sweet side and he'll show it

Is another cuddle bug (if you're okay with it)

Your friendship is very wholesome as it is chaotic

You could be doing something dangerous around town while having a meaningful and deep conversation

Overall, you guys match each other's energies and hold a lot of power together don't underestimate short people

[the-dumpster-fire-of-life]

could you do a tom x reader and its late night drives with the tokio hotel band like after they won an award maybe and myabe its just absolutely chaos lov ur writting btw

(I love this idea but sorry I didn't add a Tom x reader, much, just the band but anyways, enjoy!)

Award Mayhem

"Fuck all yall we just won an award bitches!"

You had no care or worries as adrenaline ran through your veins, sticking out the sunroof of the car as you yelled into the wind.

The boys all yelled with you, Bill holding you by your thighs in the passenger seat as he himself hung outside his window.

"You guys are gonna fall!" Tom laughed, yelling as he drove his car as Gustav and Georg almost proved his point.

They both sat in the back, sitting their asses on the car outside with their bodies outside the windows, holding hands across the roof as they went over a speed bump and almost fell off.

The music played from the radio, blasting in the middle of nowhere as Tom sped, Bill yelling the lyrics along with Gustav and Georg.

Georg and Gustav acted dramatically, holding hands across the roof like that painting in the chistene chalape, star crossed lovers or some shit they couldn't remember.

Monsoon came on the radio, all of you looking at each other with wide eyes, a drink in you all except for Tom, and he laughed along as you all screamed the lyrics.

"Ich muss durch den Monsunn!" Gustav dragged out, leaning back with one hand with his body out the window, singing before he burped out alcohol.

"Now we know why Bill's the singer!" You laughed at your friend as you saw him about to throw up the liquor.

You yelled the lyrics, holding up the ball award you guys had won before Tom went over another speed bump, almost sending you all airborne due to the speed.

"Ah, shit!"

"(Name)!"

"Ow!"

Everyone yelled in panic as your hands slipped on the award, hitting Georg in the face as it slid off the car and onto the road.

Tom hit the brakes, sending you all into something as Georg and Gustav fell out the windows, onto their backs on the pavement as Bill was doubled over the passenger door and stuck out the window as he barfed out his alcohol, still mumbling the lyrics.

"Get it, get it, get it!" You yelled at Tom as he got out the car quickly to try and retrieve the runaway award as it rolled down the road.

It was hard as it looked like he was wobbling instead of running due to his pants.

"Faster!"

"I'm trying!"

"Not hard enough!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@billsjum6ie @bigbootahjudy @ilovebill-and-gustav @r3dheadedw0rld @kiwitsune @V4mpyboyy @novaaisstupid @billybabeskaulitz @yas-v @iischafer @dilfverz @ahswhore0 @graciegizmo3184 @sweetpuffy12 @80s-tingz @ryiana @yuriayato5 @bunnysenpai31 @banshailey @bellastoner420 @victryzvv9 @stxngnr @killed-kiss @stilesandjames @m00nzyblogs @sylisan @lyzit @trixiekaulitz @laylasbunbunny @5hyslv7 @limaswife

[crying-fantasies]

Designation: Mayhem

Soundwave named his sparkling as Mayhem for the simple fact that when the little bean cried for the first time everything was a chaos.

Like, a literal chaos, since cybertronians were now something kind of usual in Earth since the Unicron war and many decided to stay.

Imagine someone in their way to work when out of nowhere the glass in every passing structure makes vibrating noises, tremors that has every human in alert for a earthquake, but no, every glass material related thing starts then to shake violently before finally breaking, light goes out and an ominous sound wrapped everyone near before the sound of something falling is getting near.

Then there was somebot shouting in cybertronian, distantly at first but getting closer, dangerously so.

Jets, helicopters and planes start to fall from the sky and many noticed those are cybertronians that literally fainted but had the last thought of getting course to a crashing area where there are no living casualties, cars or trucks change to transformers that are foaming in the mouth while crying out loud or crash against something in their sheer panic, cellphones showing a sound that looks like there is a worldwide poltergeist around and screeching in every screen before turning off, no human or organic being knows what the hell happened while trying to calm down every bot that is near to them.

All because a tiny sparkling in the middle of Africa finally opened his intake to cry like any other baby, almost killing his sire's oh so sensitive audials, the itty bity baby showing not only his high sound frequency but that he could also connect to electronic devices.

It was a blessing that Mayhem hardly cried, but when he did, Soundwave and his cassettes were ready, sorry for the rest of the world.

Years later, no one knows what created the big cacophony from many years ago, some make theories about it: terrorist attacks, paranormal activity or another alien race trying to make contact, while Mayhem is just eating some pork belly in the room, hearing people or bots talk about it, almost laughing and saying for himself that it was maybe some kind of cryptid, not knowing that it was him.

Every time that Mayhem cried was a moment when humans and cybertronians, once again, made their bond deeper in those trying times.

[nico-tines]

genuine question for hatchetfield fans

how do you believe each of the lords in black manifest their powers ??

ill go first

Pokey: This is the most obvious as we know he can actively take over people in hatchetfield/outside of the black and white using blue shit, but i also believe he can cause hallucinations (similar to what Lex experiences in Yellow Jacket at Toy Zone) where he appears as the doll in visions or people start to hallucinate blue shit everywhere around them in the place of blood.

Wiggly: Wiggly appears as the doll and can clearly cause mass hysteria/infatuation with him, but that power seems to not work on everyone (Lex and Hannah are good examples). The way that Wiggly can cause this kind of hysteria is by preying on anyone who deeply feels like they are missing something in their life, so i think his main power is manipulation of those he sees as weak or in need. I also believe he likes to send out his followers (like wilbur) to do his dirty work for him, rather than putting in the effort himself life the capitalist overlord he truly is. He is not actually the most physically powerful of his brothers, but he is the smartest in his manipulation tactics to stay the leader of the group.

Blinky: Blinky either can take over others in a way similar to Pokey without fully taking away their consciousness. Or he is able to send minions outside of the black and white similar to Wiggly. Either way, he will always be the watcher. He doesn’t use his powers as often to create mayhem, but he enjoys watching others suffer and creating drama. His main power manifests through the purple eyes that are always watching in different corners of hatchetfield, but I also believe he can cause overwhelming anger and panic in the people he decided to mess with. He can control the emotions of others to cause chaos that he likes watch. (an explanation of how Bill got so crazy at Blinky’s World)

Tinky: Tinky is difficult to say as his intervention in the only episode that revolves around him is seemingly all in Ted’s head. I think that he is able to create rifts in the time space continuum like Ted’s office, and in those little spaces he has power to worm his way into peoples heads. Giving them hope of the future and then using that to his advantage to take that away. Eventually trapping those he messes with in the bastardards box. He loves breaking people down piece by piece through his time manipulation.

Nibbly: Nibbly is really interesting to me, specifically because he doesn’t seem to affect anyone outside of the day of the Honey Festival. I think he’s entirely fueled by hunger and greed with very little brains or scheming unlike his brothers. But I do like the concept that he can cause a ravaging amount of greed in anyone he wants to possess. Sometimes that’s hunger, sometimes it’s for material possessions or money. His followers seem to be filthy rich, and filled with a hunger for more power. When he feels like messing with someone he causes them to ruin their relationships surrounding them through an uncontrollable greed.

These are mostly just headcanons so let me know what you all think, and if you guys have any other ideas for powers with each of them!

[aphrodisiac-siren]

Maladroit Penchant-

Lo'ak Sully x Reader

Summary: Lo'ak can be difficult, stubborn; A rebel most of the time and it's something he's aware of. He's based his entire personality around his ability to find trouble and it's one he manages to maintain be it deliberately or by accident; And yet, his tenacious persona comes crumbling down when he's in the presence of his childhood friend who he definitely does not have a crush on.

-Friends to lovers- Masterlist Part 2

Part 1-

There was an uproar of cries of panic that sent the group of young Navi kids in training into a disruptive state of mayhem as a viperwolf pup ran in circles around them. In an attempt to be rid of the unfriendly animal, the kids began to lurch anything at it that their hands could grab; from rocks and twigs to a literal torch- that was still ablaze when it was thrown carelessly and mind you, aimlessly, which then set the grass, upon which it landed, on fire. Tiny flames began to dance across the glade, soon turning into ribbons of scarlet that only got bigger and bigger by the moment.

There was chaos,

And for once, Lo'ak wasn't responsible for it.

He watched, borderline amused as the other young Navi scattered all over, like a litter of younglings separated from their mother, hoping to find some sort of refuge from the wrath of quick-spreading fire and the annoying viperwolf pup that just wouldn't go away despite the mayhem.

He winced when an insensitive thought crossed his mind, all while watching from afar the paranoia set in amidst the kids.

"Well Dad, at least I didn't start this fire"

He knew if he'd said this out loud around his older brother, Neteyam would give him a sharp whack to the back of his head, a scowl plastered on his face. "Now's not the time you skxawng" he'd scold

But for once, when all hell broke loose, his name wasn't called by his dad with that all-too-familiar angry and disappointed tone.

For once, he could just sit back and watch someone else make a horrible mess of things.

For once he-

"Lo'ak!"

Nevermind.

He groaned internally, rolling his eyes as he slowly turned around to face the source of that stern voice, knowing well enough who it was already. If not by the voice then by the sound of the direhorse's hooves.

"I didn't do it" he was quick to defend himself, almost as if he'd been waiting for a day like this where he could declare himself innocent of any kind of mischief. He puffed out his chest, a grin dancing on his lips as he pointed toward the pandemonium "dad I swear it was that skxawng over there who-"

"You just going to stand around and grin like an idiot instead of helping?" Jake sighed, disappointment evident per usual. He didn't bother to wait for his youngest son to form a reply before he broke into a slow run and hopped off the elevated terrain, amidst the younger kids.

And as if he was omnipresent, Neteyam rode to the scene atop his own direhorse, letting out an audible grunt as he dismounted the animal to join his dad and help. He gave his younger brother a playful whack to the head and Lo'ak reacted by hissing in annoyance, raising his hand to smack the older boy's forearm.

Great, he thought, once again rolling his eyes, the perfect soldier swoops in to save the day.

___

The fire never spread past the glade, thus making it easier to put out. The kids were unharmed and the annoying viperwolf pup was shooed off into the forest. Everything was calm.

And yet, Lo'ak still seemed to earn himself a chiding.

"You have a talent" Neteyam's tone was playful when he addressed the younger boy. He playfully bumped his fist against his brother's arm, making sure to make it clear he was being playful and not rewarding his brother with even more berating; Ewya knew how cranky Lo'ak got after a good reprimanding from their sa'sem "how'd you manage to get in trouble when you weren't even the one who caused it"

"Whatever, I don't even care" the boy sighed, too tired to even try and advocate for himself. Whatever argumentative strength he had, he'd used earlier during his confrontation with his dad to no avail. It was useless trying to argue with someone who didn't want to listen to him in the first place.

Neteyam only chuckled, not wanting to push too much lest he had to deal with one of his childish tantrums or rambles about how unfair life was. He'd been training all day and in all honesty, he didn't have the fortitude to deal with a whining Lo'ak.

Despite his previous testimony, Lo'ak did in fact, seem to care

A lot,

The boy went into a full blown harangue that unfortunately for Neteyam, didn't seem to be nearing the end anytime soon. It was as if time had momentarily frozen, entrapping him in this agonising loop of having to listen to his baby brother's endless cycle of complaints that just kept coming like clockwork. Even if Lo'ak did take the hint that his older brother was just outright bored, judging by the constant sighing and half-assed pity-smiles, he just didn't give a fuck; too content that someone was kind enough to just shut up and listen to him, regardless that everything he was saying was going in through one ear and out the other.

The appearance of blue by the entrance of their abode caught the older sibling's attention. He noticed only the flash of royal azure before he recognised the silhouette which immediately put a smile on his face. He inwardly thanked Ewya, now looking at the other Navi with such joy, you'd think he was two seconds away from springing to his feet and snogging the visitor.

"Hi" came an all too familiar voice that at once had Lo'ak seizing his one-man debate on why the middle child lives the hardest life that any living soul could imagine. He craned his neck to look at the person behind him, a sheepish grin creeping up.

"Hey Y/N" he gave her a nod, his ears perking up slightly that gave away his excitement to see his friend; something he was trying to downplay and be cool about.

Neteyam rolled his eyes, knowing too well by now of his younger brother's crush on their childhood friend. The only other thing he found more torturous to experience other than Lo'ak's bratty ranting was his god-awful flirting skills or lack there of. It was almost physically painful to watch him and he had to commend his brother for managing to prove himself to be an even bigger idiot with each passing day. You'd think after all these years he'd get better at it but he somehow managed to just get more and more awkward. Heck at this point even Spider had a better chance with Kiri than Lo'ak had with Y/N.

"What you guys up to?" the girl asked as she crossed her legs to sit between the boys, twirling a lock of hair once before she began to braid it as she waited for the boys' response.

"Whining apparently" Neteyam grinned as he looked at Lo'ak and then back at Y/N, letting her know that his brother was in another one of his moods today.

"Ah" she broke into an amused smile, leaning back slightly when Lo'ak threw a small straw basket at his brother, a childish scowl on his face. Once he'd resumed to his original position, his one knee pulled up snug against his chest, Y/N scooted closer to play with his braids, subtly trying to slip a few beads into his hair that she'd got with her.

"What are we doing tomorrow at training?" she asked, trying to change the topic and hopefully distract the boys from catching onto what she was doing.

Either she was ready good at being discreet into adorning his hair with the new jewellery or Lo'ak just didn’t mind.

Neteyam could tell it was the latter.

"Archery" he said, concealing his smile by attempting to cough into his hand.

"I'm already like soo good at it" Lo'ak rolled his eyes "can't I just go out hunting or some shit? Or maybe I can.."

It was between cute and comical how he just kept rambling while a light blush danced across his freckled cheeks. He was well aware of what Y/N was doing but decided not to acknowledge or comment, lest she stopped and scooted away from him. He felt something flutter in his chest each time her fingertips accidentally brushed against his cheek or neck and he was praying to Ewya that he wasn’t a flustered mess but judging by his brother's stupid grin he knew he wasn’t really being cool about it.

If there was something in close range, he'd pick it up and throw it at Neteyam but fortunately for him, there wasn’t anything apart from that basket he threw earlier. Lo'ak wouldn’t mind getting up to retrieve said basket and throw it at him again but then that would mean loss of contact from Y/N.

As the conversation continued, Lo'ak's attention was solely fixated on Y/N's movement beside him. When she leaned in closer, her breath fanning against his neck, her knee touching his thigh. After she was done, she leaned back with a smile, proud of her work.

"Am I a pretty boy now?" Lo'ak asked, giving her one of his fetching smiles that showed off his pearly whites. He inwardly frowned at the fact that she was no longer close enough for him to literally hear her breathing.

"Dashing" she looked up at him through her lashes, fanning herself to exaggerate her reaction that made the older Sully sibling want to gag and cough up a hairball.

She reached out to adjust something, placing her one hand on his thigh to support herself as she fixed his hair. Lo'ak could physically feel his brain short-circuiting while he looked at her with parted lips, face getting hotter with each second she continued to dote over him.

"This is getting painful to watch now" Neteyam buried his face into his hands so that he didn’t have to look at his brother completely shut down at the mere touch of Y/N.

"Better" she hummed contently, ignoring Neteyam and completely unaware that she had temporarily broken the poor boy next to her. She sat down once again to admire her work and definitely not him. He only gulped and smiled, looking borderline constipated.

Lo'ak found it almost pathetic of himself to lose all sense when it came to her. He was a warrior in training, someday responsible for protecting the clan. The son of Toruk Makto; Who turned to a pile of mush when put in close proximity with his childhood friend. His bad-boy persona really wasn’t going to fool anyone if this kept happening with her.

"I have to go make my rounds with mom and dad" Neteyam stood up, picking up the straw basket "I'll see you later Y/N"

He lovingly ruffled her hair and boisterously whacked the back of Lo'ak's neck before dropping the basket over his head, which elicited an angry hiss from the younger brother.

"Bitch" he grunted under his breath, throwing the straw basket carelessly to the side as Neteyam ran out cackling like a kid.

"Kiri said something about you guys going to check some place out in the forest" Y/N snapped him out of his temperament "spider coming too, yea?"

"Uh yea" Lo'ak rubbed the back of his neck, trying not to think too much about the fact that he was alone with her "You wanna come?"

"Hm, I don’t know" she tilted her head to the side before looking up at him with her pretty gold eyes, leaning into him slightly, just enough for her arm to touch his "do you want me to?"

Oh she knows what she's doing, she's gotta know Lo'ak thought, super aware of their skin being in contact again. With the way she was looking at him, he was so tempted to just lean in and kiss her.

What's the worst that could happen? he asked himself.

A lot, you skawng! She'll stop hanging out with you, she might not even like you. She might slap you. Or worse, she'll tell you she's always had a thing for Neteyam and not you.

The last bit made him cringe.

Once done with his mental debate, he cleared his throat, hoping he hadn’t zoned out for too long.

"Well I mean," he shrugged, trying to be chill "if you tag along I wouldn’t-"

"Not what I asked, Lo'ak"

Her voice was low, tone soft and eyes captivating as always. Did she always have those freckles scross her nose? Lips inviting- Stop!

Lo'ak gulped, simply to buy time to formulate something to say while his heart hammered in his chest and all his brain said was 'damn she's beautiful'. His eyes darted between hers and only for a fraction of a second he made the bold decision to glance at her lips before quickly looking up, praying to Ewya that she didn’t catch that.

"Do you want me to come?" she asked again, not once tearing her gaze from his and commencing this stand off.

"Yes" he managed to say, nothing more than a whisper.

[blueberrypancakesworld]

Hey you lovely human!

I have a request for Faust from Lord of chaos. He’s becoming a dad and his girlfriend needs his help to get the baby when she’s giving birth at the hospital.

How would be react and acting ?

Faust - Oh my Satan a Baby

warning : child birth, emotional, nervous Faust and a nervous black circle

masterlist

Info : Thanks for the request you lovely human a nice request I must say and have fun reading everyone else too :)

Disclaimer : I don't want to glorify anything, it's about the actors who play a role, not the real events.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

°The fact that you were pregnant was not a particular surprise for you two and the entire black circle, if one looked at the afterlife of you.

°But when they all understood in their fogged brain of alcohol and grass what it meant, there was panic. There was panic from everyone. Until everyone slowly calmed down and Faust pulled his girlfriend into his arms and whirled around.

°They both talked about whether they wanted to keep the child, but they had never been so sure. They wanted to have it. Together.

°Nine months later, a group of panicked Norwegian black metal fans arrived at the entrance of the hospital and one Faust held his very pregnant girlfriend in his arms.

°No sooner had they arrived than they were all separated the black circle who sang extra songs while they had to stay outside the father was allowed to join them in the circle room.

°Something that the two had wished he wanted to be there unidngt. But shortly after he saw what was happening, all color disappeared from his face.

°He had not imagined it to be so loud and bloody while he held her hand. ,,Everything will be all right, little bat...everything will be-," he couldn't finish his sentence. He had already seen a lot of blood, but with a ,,push" he went down and lost consciousness for a moment.

°He struggled back to his feet and stood by her again. He took her hand again and tried to calm her down with motivation and calmness. He stroked her head and told her again and again how well she was doing.

°Until his son was finally there he felt his hand was almost broken but gave his wife a kiss and told her how good she was before he sat down with her. He pulled her into his arms and they both looked at the slightly bloody but healthy and cute baby.

°,,He has your eyes," he murmured and carefully stroked the child's head, trembling slightly as he brushed tears from his cheeks. Even though he couldn't prepare himself to feel like this. Feeling happy like this was the best thing.

°His wife and son are the best thing that ever happened to him, even if he fainted once. So it was in the end that he almost fainted again when he fully realized what was coming. But his friends helped him and his wife where they could.

°But in the end he was just relieved and happy that everything went so well and without complications.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@burr-soup , @mayhem-things , @valleoddblog , @batzy-watzy , @andrada-boierean , @icarus-star

[mrsalwayswrite]

To Call Forth Love - Chapter 19

An update in less than a month? What is this?

This is the long anticipated update and I'm so excited to share it with you. Please let me know what you guys think!

Words: 5500

Warnings: All the feels! brief violence, language, just grab some tissues.

Series Masterlist

Ivar loathed all hospitals with an unholy passion. Far too much of his childhood was spent surrounded by sterile white walls and people in scrubs giving him pitying looks that boiled his blood. He hated the continuous beeping sounds, that unnatural sterile scent, even the loud-ass flooring that made each step sound like a heavy weight being dropped.  He despised everything about hospitals. 

But none of that crossed his mind as he stormed into the main lobby of one with the force of an unrelenting tornado. 

He slammed his hand down on the counter, feeling his bones rattle and threaten to break but he ignored the pain. He already had one hand in a cast, why not the other? 

“Where is Kari Larsen?” He demanded of the two nurses behind the counter. 

Neither nurse berated him of how he cut in line, bypassing the four other people, to demand their attention. A fucking miracle. As he stood there, waves of anger and desperation crashing over him, he wondered if they could see it and it kept their mouths shut. Was it so obvious how his edges were fraying? How what sanity he possessed was beginning to crumble until he knew - he could see - that Kari was alive. 

One of them glanced over his shoulder, at his father and brother flanking him, and waved him closer. “Give me a moment and I'll check.”

The desire to scream at her to ‘hurry the fuck up’, ‘didn't she know who he was’, and how he wanted to ‘burn this entire building to the ground’ stung the back of his throat. But none of that passed his lips. For immobilizing terror gripped at his heart with claws sunk in deep, making that blackened organ threaten to stutter to a stop. How his lungs ached as if petrifying within his chest causing each breath to be a struggle to take in. 

He had promised her. 

He fucking PROMISED! 

Uncaring of his hardened reputation, of never showing pain, he dropped his head in his hands, the cast rubbing against his cheek. He tried to take a deep breath, but the panic and self-loathing continued to crush his chest like a Medieval torture device. He just needed to know…he needed to see her. 

Please…

The nurse's ‘customer' voice broke through his internal panic. “Miss Larsen is still in the emergency room but has been moved to a separate room for examination.”

Ivar moved before the nurse fully finished her sentence. Ignoring all those around him, he stormed through that hospital with only one destination in mind. At this point, he almost wished someone would try to stop him so he could hit someone, just do something instead of feeling like he was falling apart. Anger, he knew. Anger, he could work with. But not this terror, not this panic that was draining his sanity and attempting to suffocate him. 

Perhaps, it was the scowl on his face that made people jump out of his way, the aura of danger that radiated off of him, or how he was flanked by his father and brother. With only a few concerned stares from nurses or those that worked there, he guessed they recognized him and his family. He had visited this godforsaken place enough times. Besides, he was a Lothbrok. 

And Lothbroks owned this city. 

Hvitserk raced ahead to open the doors leading into the emergency area, separate from the main hospital. They passed through without incident, into the chaos and mayhem. Sounds of a baby screaming, raised voices, the tang of blood and antiseptic cleaner, it all assaulted his senses but it barely phased him. There was only one thing he cared about right now. 

Marching up to the large desk, he stopped, glaring at the first nurse he came across. Her gray hair was tied back in a bun, with a ‘don't give a fuck anymore’ look as she typed away on the computer. 

Too bad she had met her match today. 

“Kari Larsen. Where is she?” He gritted through his teeth. 

The older nurse sighed, looking up at him. “Young man, you need to wait–”

“WHERE IS SHE??!”

Silence echoed in the room. The sudden lack of sound felt like a black hole that suddenly exploded to destroy them all. All eyes turned to the trio at the front desk.

His father put a hand on Ivar's shoulder as he stepped up beside him. Most likely intervening before Ivar jumped over the counter and repeatedly stabbed the ugly bitch with that damn pen she kept clicking. 

“We received a call from this hospital that Kari Larsen was here. We've come to check on her and I am personally paying for any treatment she receives while here.”

“Fine. Your name, sir?”

“Ragnar Lothbrok.” He smirked lazily. “My information is on file. Send the bill to Mr Weber, the CFO. He knows how to contact me with any further questions.”

The five other nurses behind the desk all stared, one or two having paled at the name of Lothbrok spoken. The older nurse before them began to stutter out a response, her eyes having widened and mouth dropped open, like an wrinkly goldfish. 

“Now, you will answer my son's question.” His father's voice hardened in displeasure. “In which room is Kari Larsen?”

“I…um…” One of the nurses stumbled out, clasping a blue patient folder to her chest like it was some shield to protect her from the Lothbrok's wrath. “I brought her for a CT scan…just…fifteen minutes ago, maybe.”

“Excellent, now–” Ragnar started to say but a rasped cry yanked the youngest Lothbrok's attention away. 

“Ivar!”

He spun on his heel, facing the hallway just behind him and slightly to his right. All his fear, panic, anger, self-loathing- it all bubbled up to spectacularly erupt as he heard that voice call his name. Her voice! A voice even after three weeks without hearing its sound, he immediately knew. The voice his soul cried out for. 

And there she was. 

Beautiful…

Perfect…

….with dried blood on the side of her head and splattered on her sweater. 

“Kari!” As quickly as his crippled legs could go, he bolted towards her. 

At his responding cry, she broke away from the nurse walking next to her. The damn nurse tried to grab her, but Kari shook her hand off and began running. 

Running to him! 

With tears running down her cheeks. 

She slammed into him, almost knocking them over with her momentum. Ivar stumbled back a couple steps, barely catching his footing, but he did not care. She was in his arms. Where she should be. Where she was meant to be. Finally. 

As soon as she was enclosed in his arms, face pressed against his chest and hands fisting the front of his shirt, she began sobbing earnestly. He tightened his arms around her, drawing her as physically possible against himself as her whole body shook with each ragged sob. 

Hearing her, he wished he could carve his chest open and allow her to crawl in. Fuck, he would do anything to take her pain, to have her even closer, to prove he was never letting her go again. 

That he would always protect her. 

“I've got you, Kari. I'm here.” The words flowed from him like an anguished prayer. “I'm here, sweet Kari. I'm not going anywhere.”

The scent of blood clung to her but he ignored it for the moment. She was here in his arms. Alive and well. 

That was all that mattered. 

He could have stood there for all eternity, the world continuing to spin and empires rising and falling without an ounce of care from him. None of it mattered. Three weeks he had been in turmoil and despair, waiting, wondering, hoping for a sign from her. Anything to prove she still cared about him, still wanted him. That he had not completely fucked up the best thing in his life with a stupid mistake. He planned on planting roots right here on the dirty hospital floor for as long as Kari needed him. The fucking nurses and other patients could move around his crippled ass. 

His father had other plans though. 

A tap on his shoulder had Ivar looking up into his father's face, a subtle look of relief there.  “There's a room for her. Let's move her there.”

He gave a brief nod. With the movement, he became aware of the moisture on his face. When had he started crying? He had been so absorbed in finally - finally! - seeing his kitten, in holding her and providing any kind of comfort she needed, he had not realized his own roiling emotions had exploded out in tears of relief and gratitude, that he was practically bleeding out his stress and harbored despair. And for one of the first times in his life, he did not care if others saw his tears. 

Somehow he coaxed Kari along as he followed his father. A strange dance as they moved since she seemed to have no inclination of letting him go. Not that he objected in any way. It was in moments like this he cursed his legs, for if he was whole-bodied he could have picked Kari up and carried her. Instead, with an arm tight around her shoulders and her pressed against his side, refusing to release her vice-like grip on his shirt, they slowly moved. 

The ‘room’ they were directed to was just a curtained off section with a single bed, single chair and some monitors pressed against the wall behind the bed. Similar to the many other sectioned off ‘rooms’ of patients waiting to be moved on or sent home. 

Carefully, Ivar maneuvered Kari and himself to sit on the hospital bed. She curled against him, her ear against his heart and one hand toying with his Mjölnir necklace. His arm wrapped around her, pulling her against him. His other hand's fingers were intertwined with hers in his lap. 

Like sentinels, his father sat in the chair, sharp gaze shifting from the closed curtain to his youngest son, while his brother took up position next to their father, arms crossed over his chest. The two began whispering but Ivar only briefly noted their presence.

His attention was drawn to Kari as she whispered something. 

“What was that, kattungen?”

“You came.” She breathed, her voice raspy and shaky as if holding back more tears. “I gave them your number. I–I wasn't sure if you'd come. I just...I was scared and wanted you.”

How was it possible with such a simple statement, it completely disarmed him. His heart lurched at hearing the undercurrent of fear in her voice, sounding like a child admitting they were scared of the dark. What was worse, what broke his heart, was her fear that he would not come. That he would abandon her. 

He pressed his lips to the top of her head in a slow syrup-like kiss, hoping his actions and words would penetrate through her worry. “I'll always come for you.”

“Please don't leave.”

He tipped his head up for a moment, a useless act to try and stop the fresh wave of tears from flowing freely down his cheeks. “I promise.” His voice broke as he answered. “I'm not going anywhere. I won't leave you.”

“I'm sorry, I'm so sorry.” She sobbed out, clinging to him even tighter if possible. 

“Shhh…it's okay. Let's focus on getting you out of here, okay?”

She nodded, a faint thing, but he felt it for how tightly she was pressed against him. 

A couple minutes later, a doctor stepped behind the curtain, joining the crowded space. He paused a moment, seeing to register the group along with his patient. He cleared his throat loudly before glancing down at the folder in hand. 

“Good day, I'm Doctor Schultz, the attending doctor here today. Miss Larsen?” The doctor paused, eyes focused on his patient. 

When she did not respond, Ivar squeezed her hand. “It's okay, søte Kari, I'm here.”

“Yes, doctor?” She quietly, hesitantly, said. 

“How are you feeling?”

With that fucking stupid question, Ivar wanted to punch the absolute, incompetent asshole of a doctor but settled for glaring at him over Kari's head. 

“I've been better.” She replied. 

The doctor smiled. “I'm sure. The good news is your scans came back clean. You do not appear to have any cranial or brain damage more than a concussion.” He hesitated, as if rolling around a question in his mind before carefully allowing it out. “Is there anywhere else that hurts? My understanding is the paramedics said you were initially screaming when they arrived on scene.”

“Doctor, can you explain what occurred? We were not told about the incident beyond the fact that she was being attended to at this hospital.” Ragnar broke in, his voice broking no argument that his question would be answered first. 

“Of course. Miss Larsen and a companion were involved in a car accident. It appears another driver was not paying attention and drove through a red light, impacting their vehicle.”

A car accident.  

A goddamn car accident. 

Inhaling sharply, Ivar felt the air stick to his lungs like glue. Mentally he thanked the gods, Fate and anyone listening for keeping Kari safe. The outcome could have been very different. 

“Is Erik okay?” The quiet query came from beside Ivar.  

“I'm not supposed to speak of other patients,” the doctor said but his face softened as he looked at Kari, “but I just saw him and he sustained more injuries than you. He likely will be walking out of here later today.”

“Erik?” Ivar asked his kitten. 

“My neighbor. He was driving us to the grocery store.”

Erik. Fucking Erik. Ivar did not like the overly friendly neighbor, the twat was trying to encroach on HIS territory. Now hearing this, he hated the man even more. The accident may not have been entirely his fault, but Kari was injured and traumatized while in his presence. That was unforgivable. 

“Miss Larsen, is there anywhere that hurts? You were fairly nonverbal when you arrived.”

“My…my shoulder…and my neck.”

“May I take a look?”

Ivar loathed to separate from her, but he removed his arm from behind her so the doctor would examine her. Damn, if he was going to move though. Plus with the way Kari did not release his hand, he doubted she wanted him further away. 

The doctor opened his mouth, but at the look that promised death on Ivar's face, he wisely did not ask Ivar to move. 

“Hmm.” The doctor hummed as he looked at Kari's neck and ran a hand along the slender column. Gently, he tugged the neckline of her sweater to see better after touching it and asking if his touch caused pain.  

Ivar gritted his teeth, as he glared with disdain at the invasive doctor. He was ready to intervene any moment the doctor went too far in his opinion but a purposeful squeeze from Kari's hand brought him back down. To distract them both, he brought their entwined fingers to his mouth. Teasingly, he kissed each of her knuckles as he held eye contact and gave a cheeky wink. His heart soared as a faint blush warmed her cheeks and a small, shy smile turned the corners of her lips up.

“Well, Miss Larsen,” the doctor stepped back and scribbled on his chart, “I do not see anything too concerning. I suspect the pain is from whiplash and the seat belt tightening. I can already see some bruising beginning on your shoulder, which may worsen. Unless the pain dramatically increases, you will be fine. You will be sore for a few days. My suggestion is to take some over the counter pain meds and rest for the next several days. If the pain worsens, either in your body or your head, come back to the ER. Any increasing headaches, double vision, spots in your vision, fainting, anything along those lines, please return and we will check on your concussion again. Before I release you, do you have anywhere to stay that someone can watch over you?”

“She's staying with me.”

Both the doctor's and Kari's gazes swung back to him but he only stared resolute at the man that needed to hurry the fuck up. 

“Alright…Miss, are you agreeable to that?” 

She nodded silently. 

“Good. One final question, the paramedics were quite concerned about your hysterics. They made note that you only seemed to calm once they helped you out of the vehicle and even then you were silent and unresponsive for a period of time. Do you remember any of this?”

“Yes.” She croaked out, a violent shiver shaking her fragile form. 

“Can you explain what happened?”

“Is this fucking necessary?” Ivar seethed, curling his arm protectively around her and tugging her back into his side. 

“I would like to follow through with–”

Ragnar stood up, blue eyes hard as ice as he stared down the doctor. “Thank you for your time and follow through. If you can finalize the release paperwork, we will be on our way and allow you to move on with your many other patients.”

Bewildered gaze swinging to every person in the room, as if silently questioning Ragnar's subtle rebuke, the doctor sharply exhaled and stepped back to the closed curtain. “I will send a nurse in to provide the paperwork.”

With that the intrusive doctor swung open the curtain and strutted away. 

Once out of sight, Ivar mumbled, “thought he'd never fucking shut up.”

“Be nice.” Kari murmured without any heat in it, more as if it was a reflex. 

Ragnar stepped around the bed and began rustling through the small rolling cart beside the bed. He came back around with an antiseptic wipe. Ivar watched as his father ripped it open and then delicately wiped away the lingering blood on her temple and ear, with far more physical tenderness than he had ever shown his sons. Kari hissed at the initial contact but did not pull away, closing her eyes and slowly taking deep breaths. 

Once cleaned to his satisfaction, Ragnar tossed the wipe into the nearby bin. Sighing, he ran a hand through his hair as if steeling himself for something. Ivar glanced over at his brother, who just shrugged, his own gaze focused on their father. 

Ragnar crouched down, bringing himself eye level with Kari instead of standing over her like he had done. “Kari, do you want to leave?” He asked softly. 

What kind of dumbass question was that? Ivar opened his mouth to intervene but a cutting look from Ragnar had him almost biting through his tongue to keep quiet. 

“Yes.” She rasped back. 

“Mmm…” Ragnar nodded. “I need you to look at me, yeah? Good girl. Will you be comfortable riding in a car after this?”

Kari tensed and Ivar wanted to bash his own head against the nearest wall. Of fucking course! Why had he not thought of that yet? 

“I–I don't know…I'm sorry.”

“No, Kari. Don't be sorry.” Ivar pressed his forehead to her uninjured temple. “We'll figure something out. It's not your fault.”

Ragnar spoke again, all soft edges and thoughtfulness. “Driving Ivar's car back would be the easiest and fastest. If you are uncomfortable with that, we can find an alternative mode of transportation or we can ask a nurse to mildly sedate you.”

With a tremor in her voice, she stated, “I can try. I think I can do it. Just…could you maybe drive slow?” 

Ivar smiled as he pressed a kiss to her temple, a silent encouragement, astounded by her quiet bravery. 

“I'm certain we can manage that.” Ragnar grunted, amusement in the quirk of his lips. “One last question.”

She nodded hesitantly. 

“I need to know, if while we are driving, will you start screaming?” 

This time she answered shakily. “No.”

“Do you recall why you were screaming at the accident?”

“Father.” Ivar growled, disliking this turn of questioning. 

“I need to know for our safety.” He returned his sharp gaze back to Kari, but did soften his voice.“Do you remember?”

“Memories.”

“Memories?” Ragnar repeated. 

She hummed. 

“Were you in a car accident recently?”

“No…”

“That's enough.” Ivar snarled, tugging her closer into his side, as her quivering began anew. Whether it was those memories or fear that caused her bodily reaction, he refused to let his father bully her into an answer. He had promised to protect her…even if it was from his father's interrogation. 

Icy blue eyes shifted from his youngest to the trembling, young woman in his arms before nodding and rising back to his feet. “I'll be back.” He swept out of the small room, the curtain fluttering closed behind him. 

“I'm sorry.” She whispered, just before pressing a hand to her mouth and releasing a shaky sob. 

Ivar held her close, sheltering her from her own turbulent emotions, as she tucked her face against him. Careful not to disturb her more, he wiped away the residue of tears from his cheeks with his right hand, mindful of his cast. 

At the feeling of being watched, he met his brother's eyes from across the small closet of a curtained room. His favorite brother had always been an open book, easy to read his emotions. Even now, the relief and concern for Kari was evident in his eyes. Without a word, he nodded slowly and deliberately toward the woman in his arms. Ivar nodded in reply. A silent conversation but Ivar knew what it meant. 

Whatever you need. I'll be there. 

Several minutes later, when Kari's quiet sobs transitioned to sniffles, a nurse arrived with a clipboard and release papers. She nervously asked the two men in the room to step outside so she could ask Kari some questions privately. Ivar's hackles immediately rose, a scathing retort on his tongue ready to unleash on the nurse but a squeeze of his hand made the words fade away. 

“I'm okay.” Those blue-green eyes held his, even though red rimmed and watery, he still thought they were one of his most favorite sights. “It'll only be a minute.”

“I'll be just on the other side of the curtain.” He promised, lifting her hand and pressing a kiss to her palm. “Call out if you need me, kattungen.”

The subtle blush that arose on her cheeks drew a wicked smile to his lips. Before he could swoop in and kiss her, making them both forget the outside world, Kari lightly pushed on his chest. 

“Go.”

“As my priestess commands.”

Her quiet laughter followed him out of the room, lightening his darkened heart like an eternal candle. Hvitserk closed the curtain behind them, taking up a position mirroring his own, standing guard in front of the room. 

Other patients and nurses moved about the long hallway, some staring at the two brothers, but they were mostly ignored, the chaos and mayhem of the emergency room taking precedence.  

Ivar closed his eyes, rubbing a hand along his forehead to try and encourage the brewing headache to fuck off. 

“How are you holding up?”

He did not even open his eyes as he heard his brother's question. The exhaustion he had been fighting, dulled by the adrenaline from the phone call and finding Kari, now hit him like a semi truck. At this rate, it was debatable if he would actually be able to fall asleep or his body would crash into a coma, forcing him to rest. He just needed to get Kari to his house. If he could get the two of them there, then they could both rest and recover….and he could beg for her to never leave him again. 

He released a long sigh. “I need a cigarette.” 

“Want to step out? I'll stay with Kari.”

For a second, he considered it but ultimately shook his head. “I'm not leaving her.”

“What's your plan now? Sounds like you offered for her to stay with us.”

“Yeah. That a fucking problem?”

Hvitserk nudged him with his elbow. “You know it's not. Just…make sure that is what SHE wants.”

“I know.” Ivar ran his hand over his head. “I need her close by. After this…I need to know she's okay.”

“Well, with the way she wouldn't let you go, I think the feeling is mutual.”

Ivar chuckled quietly, warmth flooding his entire body at the reminder. He thought that perhaps she had forgiven him and they could move forward after this. Whatever that looked like, he would take. As long as she was by his side, he did not care what title it held. He just needed her. She was his morning sunrise, the stars in his night sky. Without her, his world was dark and filled with pain and anger. 

A new set of footsteps coming down the hallway had the brothers looking up. At the face that came into view, Ivar's fatigue drained away again. Fury pulsated like a second heartbeat in his chest, shooting its tendrils throughout his body like a living organism. 

Without a second thought, his feet moved. 

The nurse walking with the man seemed to take note of Ivar first and her face paled. She halted, eyes darting around as if searching for help, for someone to intervene. It was only then her patient took notice. 

But it was too late. It was time to pass the man's sentence and in this case, Ivar was judge, jury and executioner. 

He stormed up to the man, with rage a phantom above him and vengeance nipping at his heels. “You stay the fuck away from Kari. This is your fucking fault she's here!”

“No, the other driver–” Erik tried to defend himself but Ivar was beyond caring about excuses. 

Ivar shoved him. Hard.

Erik stumbled back and fell on his ass, unable to fully stop his fall with his right arm in the sling. A pained hiss slipped from his lips as his body jolted at hitting the floor. 

“Sir, you can't–” the nurse tried to step in but Ivar pointedly ignored her, his full attention at the man sprawled at his feet. 

“I don't give a fuck! You stay the fuck away from her!” 

He took a step back, his eyes, cold as stone, stared the man down as if daring him to say anything. He could see the scattering of cuts on Erik's face and body, most likely from the airbag, the arm sling, and the wrap around his knee. None of it phased the Lothbrok. He did not give a flying fuck about him or his injuries. Under Erik's watch, Kari had gotten hurt. Something that would NEVER happen again. 

Satisfied he had gotten his point across, Ivar turned to head back to his brother when he heard the resentful mutter behind his back. 

“Psycho asshole.”

He could feel the insult sink in and flow through every part of his body. His concern had been for Kari, with keeping her safe. But now, with that one utterance…the idiot had made this personal. 

Before Erik blinked, Ivar had whipped around and grabbed him by the front of his t-shirt. He hauled him up roughly to stare into his face. The youngest Lothbrok reveled in the shock and fear that coated the blond's face. People always forgot that he spent a good portion of his life crawling around when his legs were unusable due to surgeries or pain, which built up his upper body strength. Even now, he still enjoyed working out his upper body, being as strong as possible, proving he was more than his useless legs. 

“You want to say that to my face, you little fucker?” He sneered. “Huh?”

“IVAR!”

At the shout of his name, he looked over his shoulder. Hvitserk stood beside Kari, the latter with a hand over her mouth and beseeching eyes wide. A few paces in front of them stood his father, the one who called his name, poised ready to intervene and yank his son away. 

Without remorse, Ivar roughly let go of Erik. “Stay away from her, or I won't be so nice next time.” With the threat looming above them, he turned and headed back to his family…

…Back to his kitten and hopefully away from this fucking awful place. 

“Kari, you don't have to go with him!” 

Ivar froze. Again. 

“I–I can drive you home. I'll be discharged soon if you'll just…wait.”

The entire hall waited with baited breath. Only the sounds of the machines beeping could be heard. 

Yet his whole world had narrowed down to Kari. His eyes zeroed in on her, waiting, watching, for a sign, a subtle hint, instruction on what to do next. Did he go to her? Or was she terrified of him once again? Should he turn around and rip that little fucker's spine out of his body? As these questions whirled about like a chaotic storm, his feet remained firmly planted. 

Until her. 

Like a sunbeam breaking through the darkest storm, that was his Kari. 

His light. His life. 

With his name on her lips but no sound uttered, she held out her hand for him. Those stunning eyes focused on him, calling, summoning, drawing him in. 

And like a moth to the flame, he followed. But instead of death being at the source of light for him, there was the brightest joy and affection, belonging and loyalty. 

He reached out, taking her hand as he got closer and drew her back to his side. He planted a brief kiss on the top of her head. “Let's go home, kattungen.” 

Neither Ivar nor Kari looked back at Erik. 

They followed Hvitserk and Ragnar out to Ivar's car. Ragnar drove with his son in the passenger seat, and Ivar and Kari in the back. Kari was still tucked in his side, head on his shoulder and holding hands. 

As the vehicle pulled out of the parking lot and onto the street, her body began to subtly shake. Ivar tugged her onto his lap and began softly speaking, trying to soothe her in his native tongue. Like a child, she tucked her face into his neck as if to hide from the world. Her hand gripped his with a death grip, but he paid no mind, encouraging and comforting however he could. 

About halfway through the drive, Kari finally spoke, her trembling having subsided. “Why do you have a cast?” 

He glanced down at the damn thing laying across her thighs. “Broke my hand.”

“How?”

“Boxing.”

“Hmmm…did you win?” 

He snorted, glancing at her, meeting her face with a small smile. “I always win.”

“Uh huh. Sure you do.” She rasped out, her voice sounding a little stronger but still rough. 

“Are you teasing me right now?”

She mock-gasped. “No one would dare tease you.”

He squeezed the top of her knee, making her squirm and squeak. “And you remember that.”

The conversation died out; silence reigned for a while. Ivar rubbed his thumb on the back of her hand as he rested his head on top of hers with eyes closed. Exhaustion crept back in once again, tugging his eyelids shut and numbing his mind. All he wanted to do was crawl into his bed, with Kari joining him, and lock his bedroom door so no one could bother them for at least three days. Maybe a week. 

“Oh no!” Kari gasped, abruptly sitting upright. 

Her sudden startle, sent a shockwave through him. He bolted upright, mind racing. “What?”

“All my groceries. They were in the back of Erik's car. I don't– I don't have money to buy more.”

He chuckled, tugging her back to lean against him. He could not believe she would panic over such a small thing. “Don't worry about it. I've got it.” 

“But, that's not–”

“Kari,” he interrupted her, grabbing her chin and forcing her eyes to meet his. “I'll take care of it. Understand?”

“Yes.”

She answered correctly but he could see - could sense - her hesitation, that wavering confidence. Something he needed to alleviate.

He released her chin to tenderly caress her cheek before guiding her forehead to press against his. “I'll take care of you.” He repeated, hoping his words would sink into her mind and plant there, for he meant every one. “Whatever you need. Groceries. New clothes. A car. I'll get it, you just tell me. Okay?” 

“You don't have to. It's not–”

“I want to.” He interrupted. “I want to take care of you. Don't you understand. I…I failed you but that won't happen again. Please, kitten. Please, just let me do this.” 

Time paused as he waited for her reply, for her agreement, for a sign. Anything! Forehead still pressed to his, she slowly breathed. Panic might have crept in to discourage him if he had not been able to feel her hand playing with his hair at the nape of his neck. She was still so relaxed, so trusting, in his lap. He knew all he had to do was wait.

And so he waited for her. 

Like he promised he would. 

Finally, she quietly sighed out her response before slipping back against his chest and cuddling close. “Thank you, Ivar.”

A wave of gratitude and affection filled his soul. A dopey grin on his face, he tugged her closer and laid his head back on hers. 

“Anything for you, Kari.”

Tag List:

@southernbe @tessakate @ivarlover @nothingtolosebutweight @beautifulweaselplaidsalad @noway4u @cdauni @istorkyou @ringpopdust @lotr-got

[thelaundrybitch]

Pillow Wars - TMNT HC's

TURTLE DOVES!

I hope y'all are doing well and staying safe 🥰😘

This evening I will be answering a FABULOUS ask from @lec743

The original ask:

Can you write a story about the reader (or an OC of your choice idc) having an all out Pillow War with one of the turtles (I'd prefer it to be all four of them but that's my only preference so you can make the singular choice of turtle if your adamant about sticking to one character at a time). I want mayhem! I want blood (the blood being silly string)! I want the king to fall to their pillowy demise! laughs evil-y clears throat Anyway, I don't want there to be any romance in it, maybe just playful flirting… And that just about covers it. Hope I'm not asking too much from you.

I had a lot of fun writing this! Thank you so much for indulging me with hilarity and shenanigans!!!

I hope you like it 😘

Warnings: swearwords, fluffy butt whooping, and lots of fun 😂

Another attempt at Gender Neutral reader insert - please be kind about any mistakes I may have overlooked 💜

Shout out to my girl @leosgirl82 for being my second set of eyes and the other half of my brain

Scooby Drew strikes again 😂🥰😘💜

Reblogs only please!

Pillow Wars

Pillow Wars 

Same ol' same ol'

You get to the lair

Raph is thumbing through a motorcycle magazine

Mike is sitting in the recliner playing a game

Don is in the lab 

Leo is locked in his room doing GOD knows what

And you're bored.

And since no one wants to entertain you

*ominous music*

It's time to shake things up

If your memory serves you correctly

Michelangelo

Needs a good ass beating

For eating all the homemade cookies that you brought down 

For EVERYONE to enjoy

However

You walked in on him

LICKING THE CONTAINER CLEAN

Despite your warnings 

Of his untimely demise 

If he ate all four dozen cookies

And didn't leave anything but crumbs

For everyone else.

Again.

That asshole decided to eat everything

Crumbs included.

SO

You throw a pillow at Raph

Because you KNOW he gives a good butt whooping

And you keep walking like nothing happened

Just to stand on the sidelines to watch as the chaos ensues

Making Mike look like the culprit

Raph looks up from his magazine

*Unimpressed Raph*

*Big eyed Mike*

"Oh yeah? You little sh*t?"

Mike pleads innocence

Raph isn't buying it

Pummels Mike with a non-stop barrage of pillows

Including the couch cushions

Mike is screaming for help like a dramatic five year old

Yells for Leo to "save meeeeee"

Enter unimpressed™ Leo

He had been reading.

TF you two, cut the crap before you break something.

Mike and Raph stop for a moment 

And look at each other with huge smiles

"Like your FACE!" Yells Mike

Insert Mike and Raph pelting Leo with all the pillows.

That's it.

Leo picks up the pillows and GOES AFTER Mike

Insert Mike screaming like a five year old again.

You run to the lab and get Don

OMG DON 

MIKE NEEDS HELP

LIKE NOW

Don jumps up from his desk 

And takes off at full speed out of the lab

You follow him 

But not close

Because you're snickering

"WHAT IS GOING ON?!" 

Don is in a panic upon seeing Raph holding Mike down so Leo can beat the shit out of him with a pillow.

Mike is still screaming like a Meemie

Everyone stops

And looks at Don

Pillow fluff is everywhere

Feathers are floating down like snow

Leo and Raph get up and point at Mike

Simultaneously they yell

"HE STARTED IT!"

Mike pleads innocence again.

You pick up one of the pillows 

That had mysteriously ended up in the hall

*Wink wink*

And smack Don in the back of the head

Oops

You meant for it to hit his shell

😬☠️

Don turns around slowly

*Chucky vibes*

His glasses have half fallen off his face.

He walks over to you 

S L O W L Y

He holds out a hand

A pillow materializes in his palm

*Samurai yelling as all 4 of them come after you*

*Get the snot beaten out of you*

You have fluff coming out of your ears

And feathers in places they shouldn't be

Don helps you up

Everyone is chuckling and cleaning up 

When all of a sudden

Five pillows are whipped

At the speed of light

Smacking each of you square in the face

You all turn

And see…

SPLINTER?!

With his arsenal of pillows 

Ready ...

For round two

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