#the more I think about purple hearts the angrier I get

[the-audacity-of-this-btch-13]

if I had a nickel for every time I watched a Nicholas galitzine movie where they bring up an important issue in society and then just swiftly brush it under the rug I'd have two nickels, which isn't alot but it's weird that it happened twice

[tinythebunni]

bratty baby

Bratty Reader x ages up!Earth 42!Miles Morales

Pink is readers texting/speaking

Purple is Miles texting/speaking

Miles is 18 in this one!

🐾🎀🧸🎀🐾

“Ion give a fuck what plans you and your lil friends had tonight, I said don’t go out so you’re not goin out.”

For the past two months, Miles has been getting more and more controlling over what you can and can’t do and telling you when you can go out with your friends. It’s been getting on your nerves and while it’s very, very attractive, it’s pissing you off. You barely see your friends anymore and you hate being inside.

“You’re not being fair Miles! I never get to see my friends anymore and I miss them and they miss me!” Even through text he could tell you were pouting right now. Miles could just imagine you kicking your feet on your bed.

“So what, I’m just not enough for you? I’m all you need amor, why do you wanna go see them so badly? You don’t need them.”

“Miles, you know that’s not at all what I’m saying, I’m just saying that I miss my friends and I wanna see them!”

He didn’t understand why you couldn’t get what he was trying to tell you. He just needed you to not go out at night, especially tonight. He couldn’t tell you about him being the Prowler, it’d break your hot pink heart.

“And what I am telling you is that you’re not going out tonight.”

“You can’t tell me what I can and can’t do Miles. I’m not your fucking kid!” You were getting angrier by the minute, every word, burned and angered you even more. Usually you’d just listen to him and stay inside like he asked, but tonight you wanted to see what would happen if you pushed his buttons just a little more…

“You talkin real crazy right now, mamí. Ima let it slide tho because I know you’re just mad and in ya feels. But don’t ever say sum crazy shit like that again, because I remember what happened last time you wanted to be bad and go against what I say. Why not run it back, whatchu say ma?”

You stayed silent, fuming and thinking. He was being so unfair and you had no idea why. You didn’t like being left in the dark and he knew this.

“Now this conversation is over, I got shit to do.”

“You right, this conversation is over. Fuck you Morales.”

You silenced your phone and with a shaky hand and butterflies in your stomach, you put your coat on and walked out your house.

After about 20 minutes you started to feel bad. You didn’t know why you were so mean and disobedient to him. You knew he only wanted what was best for you, all he ever did was spoil you and make you feel special. Even though you felt guilty, the fire in your stomach from the anticipation of what was to come made you feel even better.

You had just walked out the door of the club you and your friends went to and started your route home when you heard a noise behind you. You looked around but found nothing. You sped up your pace and started to walk towards your house when you heard it again, this time next to you.

When you looked over, you saw nothing but an empty street and a few lamps on. You continued your walk when something hit your head. You could feel yourself falling but didn’t feel the concrete below you. The last thing you saw being purple AF1’s.

🐾🎀🧸🎀🐾

When you woke up, you were back in your house, an ice pack under your head and blankets pulled up to your chin. You heard your tv on in your living room and quickly got up to investigate. When you opened the door, you were met with the sight of your boyfriend in your couch, sitting there like nothing had happened. His legs spread, elbows on his knees and hands clasped together. The thing that caught your eye was the mechanic claw on his right hand.

When he noticed your presence he looked up at you and tilted his head. The glare on his face reignited that fire in your stomach. He stared at you, saying nothing at all as you shifted on your feet, nervous.

When you finally did decide to speak, your tone came out nervous and shaken and not at all like how you meant for it to sound.

“Why are you in my house Miles?”

“I can’t just come over when I wanna?”

“Answer my questions for once! Why are you in my house and why do you have on that same claw that the vigilante on the news wears?”

He knew you were a little daft but he didn’t expect this kind of idiocy.

“C’mon baby, put two and two together. I know you’re smarter than ya look.”

You knew the truth but you didn’t wanna believe it. You stayed silent, staring at him and fiddling with your hands. You were overwhelmed with fear and arousal, confusing you even more than ever.

Once he recognized the look of understanding on your face, he leaned back and curled his finger towards you in a demanding way.

“C’mere, we gotta talk.”

You sat down on the couch next to him, thighs touching and your gaze locked on the ground.

“Don’t be like that, look at me mamí”

When you looked at him, he could see the betrayal in your eyes. But he could also see the need and wanting. Feeling naked under his gaze, you looked back down at your floor,

“You’re him? You’re the guy from the news?” You voice quivered as you spoke, shaking from either fear or the amount of need and attraction you’re feeling right now. This man has killed people, he could kill you at any point! So why does that thought turn you on so much?

“Oh so now you wanna talk?” He asked, a lilt in his tone that let you know he was smirking without even having to look at him

“Don’t be mean Miles. This isn’t the time for jokes.”

“Yea I’m him, what’s it matter to you?” You knew that under the anger and accusation in his voice that he was feeling vulnerable. You crawled on his lap and laid your head on his shoulder and hugged him.

He froze at first, confused with the random affection, but slowly accepted the warmth. “I love you regardless of what you’re doing and who you’re killing.”

Miles almost wanted to scream at you to be afraid of him. He’s killed people. He’s hurt people, innocents even! Why weren’t you running?

You pulled back and reached up to cup his face and inched closer to him, looking down at his lips for permission. He closed the gap between you two and kissed you softly, like he missed you. It was warm and passionate, it wasn’t like this often. You didn’t often get this softness from him. But when you did, it made you feel like the most special girl in the world.

When you pulled back for air, you smiled, giddy with the thought of having your boyfriend back and not mad at you. But when he spoke to you, you knew you were in trouble.

“Don’t think I forgot what happened earlier. I was the one who brought you home, laid you down and tucked you in.” Miles looked down at you, smiling as if something was funny. You couldn’t move, the grip he had on your hips was tight, almost like a warning.

“Are you gonna hurt me?” You knew the answer, you always did. You knew what happened when you disobeyed him and what he says. You remembered what happened the last time.

Miles laughed, a loud hearty one, head tilted back and canines exposed. He chest shook with laughter and you shook in fear on his lap. When he looked down at you once more, he looked different, almost predatory.

“Oh chiquita, Ima do so much more.”

[vodika-vibes]

Eternity

Summary: After being 'blessed' with Eternity on your 12th birthday, you're convinced that you're never going to find happiness. 500 years later, Kix disagrees.

Word Count: 3816

Pairing: Kix x Vampire!Reader

Warnings: None? I don't think. Maybe some angst

A/N: So...this was supposed to be a Sleeping Beauty story...and I guess I took some aspects of Sleeping Beauty? Maybe.

Divider by saradika

“Why are you here? You were not invited to this party!” Your father shouts to the violet clad woman standing under the flower arch that your uncle specifically made for your 12th birthday party.

The woman looks surprised, and then something cruel crosses her features, and you take a half step towards your father, “It’s alright, there’s food enough for everyone still.”

“No, it is not alright.” Your father says sternly, “It’s rude to show up uninvited.”

“It is more rude to kick someone out without first offering food and drink,” You counter as you lift your chin, “She came here to celebrate, father, the least we can do is allow her to do so.”

Your father’s face twists in rage, and he throws his hands up, and stalks away, “Do what you want.”

You exhale slowly, and then you quickly build a plate of some tasty treats and a glass of meade, and you head over to the strange woman, and you offer her both food and drink, “I apologize for my father. If things don’t go exactly according to plan he gets irritated.”

“You have my gratitude, little princess,” The woman replies as she takes the food and drink, “For both the food and drink, and for inviting me to stay.”

“Oh, no. It’s the very least I can do.” You reply with a bright smile up at the woman, “Your dress is beautiful. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a shade of purple so vibrant.” You add brightly.

The woman laughs, it’s a harsh noise that makes your hair stand on end, and you can’t help but feel like you’re walking on a very thin wire, with destruction looming on both sides. Though you’re nothing if not polite, so you keep a smile on your face, and you hide just how unsettled you are.

“You are far too kind, little Princess,” The woman says, once she’s calmed her laughter, her smile is sharp and you can’t help but notice that her lips look painted with blood, “Tell me, child, is your father always so angry?”

“I rarely see him without a scowl on his face,” You admit, “I he never speaks so much as yells. It’s why mother left.”

“And yet she didn’t take you with her?”

You keep the smile on your face through sheer force of will, even as the woman prods a still open wound on your heart, “Mother…mother did what she thought was best, I’m sure.”

“Hm…have you not seen her since she left, little one?”

Your face falls without your permission, “I’m sure she will. It’s…it’s still early. I’m sure my mother didn’t forget my birthday.” You say quietly.

The woman lightly touches your head, and you’re unable to stop your tremor. “Are you afraid, little one?”

“...you’re dangerous.” You whisper, “I don’t know how, or even why I think that. But you are.”

The woman smiles even wider, “You see much for one so young, little princess.” She coos, as her long nails trail against your cheek, “Your mother sent me here in her stead. She is sorry that she cannot come to you, little one, but she sends her love.”

“I miss her,” You whisper, “Father is so much angrier with her gone…”

“Do not fret so, little princess. All will be well. You’ll see.” Somehow, somehow that sounds like a threat, and you shudder as she taps you on the cheek with one long fingernail, “Now, go and enjoy your party.”

The woman vanishes into the crowd of adults, and somehow, even though you never looked away from her, you’re unable to see her again. You’re drawn from your anxious thoughts when your grandmother draws you into a conversation with one of her friends.

And though you don’t forget about the strange violet woman, you are able to put her out of your immediate anxieties for the next several hours. You get through the dinner, and the cake, and the presents (dresses and heels and jewelry designed for a woman, not a child), and it’s just before your father dismisses everyone from the party when the woman appears again.

She stands taller than everyone else at the party, somehow, though you’re sure that she was only a little bit taller than you when you first met her. Her hand flows like ink down her back, and, as you watch her, the violet designs on her gown shift and change, taking on different forms.

“Your Majesty,” She says, her voice smooth and cool, like cold water over stones, “You have not allowed me to give my gifts to the little princess.” She coos. She pins you in place with fathomless black eyes, and you want to scream, to run, to hide…but your muscles seize and you can’t move.

“I suppose, since you did bring a gift.” Your father grumbles, as he places his hand on your shoulder.

“Oh no, your majesty. I said gifts, not gift.” The woman replies, her smile sharp as a blade, “First, to the Little Princess,” She walks over to you, and presses a light finger against your forehead, “I grant you the gift of eternity.” 

Pain lances through you, starting at the top of your head and working down to your feet. Your legs give out on you, and you fall to your knees, and you hear screaming…screaming you realize is coming from you.

Everything becomes too loud, the scents become too strong, and you’re so cold…like you’ve never been warm a day in your life, and you’ll never be warm again.

“What did you do to my daughter!?” Your father demands, his hand is on your back and you just sob because everything hurts so, so much. It feels like millions of white hot knives are piercing your skin where your father is touching you.

“I granted her eternity,” The woman says cruelly. “She’ll age for another 10 years…and then she’ll stop, and she’ll be 22 forever.” There’s a pause, and then a quiet laugh, “Tell me, Your Majesty, have you never heard of Vampires?”

“That’s impossible,” Your Grandmother says sharply from where she’s smoothing your hair out of your face, “Everyone knows that a Vampire stops aging the moment they’re turned. You said-”

“Yes, yes. I just found the idea of being eternally 12 completely repulsive.” The violet woman replies blithely, “Now, where was I?” You manage to look up at the woman, even as you lean heavily against your grandmother.

“We’ll find a cure, sweetheart.” Your father promises, his voice ringing loudly in your ears.

There’s a snap, “Oh, yes. The second part! How foolish of me.”

“If you think I’m going to allow you anywhere near my daughter-”

“Oh. No, no. This second gift isn’t for her,” The Dark Woman says with a laugh, “It’s for everyone else.” There’s a moment of silence, “You’re not going to help the Little Princess, your majesty. No one is. For you will no longer be living.”

There’s a swell of magic that makes your skin prickles, and then the screams start. All across the garden party, men and women scream as vines burst from the ground, twinning around them. You get thrown back by a pair of massive vines as they twine around your father and grandmother, and you watch, horrified, as slowly the people start turning into plants.

It happens in a matter of seconds.

And the next thing you know, you’re alone in the garden with the Dark Woman, “There,” She says, “Perfect.”

And then she casts her gaze to you, you’re so weak you’re barely able to move, and pain still races through your body, but even so you try to push yourself up to a sitting position. “Hm…the transformation is going to take a few days…and I don’t want to have to deal with you…” 

She grabs your shoulder harshly, and then there’s a weird sensation of falling before you’re thrown onto a stone floor. “I bring a gift, your lordship,” The Dark Woman crows.

“A child?” A deep male voice questions, “I have no desire for any childre-” He stops mid-sentence, “What have you done?” His voice is silky smooth, and somehow hurts less than the woman’s voice.

“I turned her…well, in a manner of speaking.”

There’s a snarl of fury, and the dark woman takes half a step back, and you feel a surge of dark glee, “You turned a child?”

“She will age over the next ten years,” the Dark Woman promises, “She’ll stop aging at 22 years old, but she is one of you.”

There’s the sound of heels on stone, and gentle hands pull you into a lap, “Husband, you have granted this witch far too much freedom,” A woman says quietly, before gentle fingers card through your hair, “It’s going to be alright, dear one. We’ll take care of you. You’re family now.”

You turn your head into the smooth silk of the woman’s gown, and you hear much heavier footsteps, “You are quite right, my dear.” The man says, his voice low, “It looks like I have to set this right.”

Strong arms slide under you, and you find yourself secure in the arms of the woman who was comforting you, “Then, I leave you to your business, husband. I must tend to our new child.”

You drift off to sleep when you hear a door click open, and then shut behind you. The last thing you hear before sleep totally claims you, is the soft voice of the woman carrying you, “Fret not, little one. That woman will never harm another person.”

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

It’s been 500 years since the day you were turned, and you’re comfortable with the life you lead. You’re happy enough, you suppose, if not a little bit lonely.

You remained with your mother and father for several decades, while you got the hang of the whole vampire thing, but you’ve been wandering on your own for over 400 years since then.

You tend to move every 20 years out of necessity, though you’ve never hidden what you are from the people around you. It just gets tiring, watching the people around you age, and die, while you remain the same.

Plus, no one ever mentions the boredom of eternity.

Over the last 400 years you’ve been a lawyer, a singer, a writer, a musician, a blacksmith, a detective, a teacher…and everything in between. You’ve learned instruments, art, and crafts and- well, eternity is a very long time, after all.

This time, you’ve decided to be a doctor. You went to school and you took the classes and you got the degree, and now…here you are, working the night shift at a hospital in Mandalore.

Mandalore which used to be the Kingdom of Sirid…your father’s kingdom.

Not that anyone remembers Sirid…mother told you once that it was a continuation of the Dark Woman’s curse. She also mentioned that maybe it was a good thing. After all, no one is going to hunt down the princess of a kingdom that they don’t remember existed.

For what little it’s worth, you actually like Mandalore, and you hold no malice towards the Royal Family. But then, you have had 500 years to deal with this.

Your gaze drifts towards the palace, lit up even though it’s nearly midnight, and you sigh as you tilt your head back, your eyes closing. The breeze feels nice against your skin, even though you don’t get hot anymore. 

You hear the door click open, and light footfalls on the tiled roof. They hesitate a moment, and then continue towards you with slightly more purpose. “Enjoying the view, Baar’ur?”

You hum thoughtfully, and turn your head to regard the man standing next to you, “It is a nice view.” You admit, “But no, I’m enjoying the breeze.”

“It is a nice night,” Kix agrees as he leans against the railing next to you, his gaze locked on your face, “Hard night?” He asks.

“No harder than usual. Some people are funny about having someone like me working on them.” You add with a wry smile.

“Then they’re dumb,” Kix replies, “You’ve probably forgotten more than anyone in this hospital knows.”

You laugh quietly, “Well, I am very old.”

“Not that old.”

“I’m over 500 years old, Kix.” You remind him.

He grins at you, “Yeah, like I said.”

You laugh and turn so you’re leaning against the railing as well, “I suppose, in the grand scheme of things, I’m not that old.”

“Exactly. How old is your…ah…sire?”

“Oh, well over 2000. But I’m more his-his foundling,” You explain, “I wasn’t turned like normal vampires. I was ‘blessed’ with Eternity.”

“Doesn’t sound like much of a blessing,” Kix replies dryly.

“Mm. It’s not. But I make due.” You tilt your head back and look up at the stars, “Oh, was there something you needed Kix?” You ask.

“Wanted to make sure you’re alright.” He admits after a moment of silence, “That family wasn’t very nice to you.”

“They’re allowed. People still tell horror stories about my people…and with good reason. We’re not exactly safe, Kix.” You point out.

“You’ve never hurt a person in your life,” Kix replies, “I’m sure of it.”

“How can you know?” You ask, amusement clear in your voice.

“I’m pretty good at reading people.” He says easily, “And I don’t see you ever willingly hurting another person, even if you can.”

You laugh softly, “500 years, and you're the first person to ever be able to read me like that.”

He doesn’t say anything, but his grin takes on a smug air.

“Don’t be smug, Kix. It’s not a good look.” You sniff as you bump him with your shoulder.

“Everything I do is a good look,” He corrects as he bumps you back, allowing his shoulder to linger against you, “Because I’m gorgeous.”

“And so very modest.” You add dryly.

“Modesty is overrated,” Kix says loftily, though his grin fades slightly, “I’m really the first person in 500 years to be able to read you?”

You shrug, “Yeah. I was pretty good at shielding my true thoughts before I was turned, and then it became easier after.”

“You’ve had friends before though.”

“Sure. And then they grow up, get old, die…and I have to start over again. New place, new friends…still no one actually knew me.” You watch him for a moment, something achingly sad in your eyes, “Not like you, at least.”

“Sounds lonely.” Kix says after a moment, something like longing in his voice.

You exhale slowly, and turn your gaze back towards the sky, “You get used to it. You can get used to anything.” You close your eyes for a moment, and then straighten, “Alright, time for me to get back to work, I’m afraid. I��ll talk to you later, Kix.”

“Yeah. See you then.” Kix replies, sounding slightly distracted.

You finish your shift with little trouble, the majority of people who come to the hospital know that there’s a vampire on the staff and they don’t have a problem with it.

And once you hand over your patients to the dayshift doctor, you head to the locker room and pull on the protective clothing that shields you from the sun, and you leave for the day.

You make a stop at the markets, to pick up your weekly order of blood, sent by your mother, and then you head home.

The blood goes in the fridge, to keep it fresh, and then you feed your tooka, and finally you hop in the shower, to wash the hospital off of your skin, and finally you slide into bed. Thick black-out curtains keep the sun from even creeping into your room, and so you’re able to sleep peacefully without having to worry about any burns.

It’s later, much later, that day when you finally wake up and start your day.

It’s your night off, which means you’ll spend the evening doing all sorts of random things. You have the recording from the mid-day Yoga classes that you prefer, and then you can work on your tapestry for an hour or two…

You’re about to start your recording, when there’s a knock on the door. You glance at the chrono (a gift from a wizard, which shows exactly where the sun is located at that specific point in time) and you walk over to the door and open it a crack, making sure to keep yourself behind the door.

You blink in surprise at the man standing at your door, “Kix?”

“Hey,” He grins at you, “Can I come in?” You open the door a little more and let him into your home, “I brought some food, I know you don’t get anything from it, but you can still taste it, right?”

You shut the door once he’s inside, “I can, so long as it’s spicy. Or sweet.” You motion for him to move further into your home, “Sorry for the mess, I wasn’t expecting company.”

“Yeah, well…I wanted to surprise you.” Kix replies as he steps over your Tooka, “Is that a tapestry?”

“Yeah, I’ve been working on it for over 150 years now. And I’m not done yet.” You explain as you push the tapestry back to where it belongs. “It’s going to be epic when I do finish it though.”

Kix follows you into the kitchen, and sets the bags of food on the table, and watches as you hurry around grabbing plates and utensils, and he smiles when you pull a bottle of water out of the fridge for him, “You keep stuff in the house for other people?”

“Yeah, of course. Not a lot though.” You admit as you set everything on the table, and then slide into one of the chairs, “I am surprised to see you, though. I would think that you’d want to spend your free time with your brothers.”

“I spent plenty of time with them,” Kix says easily, “I wanted to spend time with you.” His gaze drifts around the room, lingering on the hundreds of pictures of you and different people, “So…any of those pictures of you with a boyfriend?” He asks.

You laugh and shake your head, “No. No boyfriends.”

“Girlfriend, then.” Kix teases gently.

“No, no girlfriend either.”

“Wait, so, you’re telling me that at 500 years old, you’ve never had a romantic partner?” Kix asks, surprised.

“Nope, never.” You serve the food, allowing Kix to take the majority, “I mean, it’s not like I’ve not considered it. It just…it doesn’t seem very fair, you know?”

“Not really.” He replies.

“Right,” You shake your head, “I’m going to stay 22…forever. I’m never going to grow old. So if I enter relationships, I’m destined to have to watch them die. And they have to watch me stay the same, forever.”

“You’re right. That doesn’t sound very fair,” Kix murmurs quietly, “Have you considered turning your partner?”

“...I don’t think you realize just how long forever is, Kix.” You point out.

“Sure I do. Forever is forever. I get that. But wouldn’t forever be better with a partner. Someone you know, you trust?” 

“Until he grows to resent me for taking his life from him? Or he decides that he’s not that interested in me?” You shake your head.

Kix taps a rhythm on the table, and then he stands and turns your chair so it’s not facing the table and he moves his chair so that when he sits, his knees are pressed tightly against yours, and then he takes your cold hands in his, “Do you know why I go out of my way to talk to you every time I see you?” He asks as he rubs his thumb over your knuckles.

You flash the smallest smile, “I have a pretty good idea,” You admit.

“Hm. Not good enough. I do this because I am completely in love with you. With everything about you.” Kix says, “I love how kind you are, even to people who hate you for what you are. I love how patient you are with people who are afraid and lashing out.”

“Kix-”

He releases one of your hands and lightly brushes his thumb against your cheek, and then over your lips, “You’re so beautiful,” Kix murmurs, “And it’s not just physical beauty, though you have that in spades too. That’s not what caught my eye first.”

“What do you-?”

“My first day at the hospital, you greeted me with a smile. You explained who you are, and what you are, and you gave me the grand tour. You were so kind to me, to everyone that crossed your path.” Kix explains, “And we ran across a man who hurled nothing but abuse at you, and you handled him so gently and so caringly, that he broke down sobbing. You said, ‘we have to see people on what might very well be the worst day of their lives, we can afford a little kindness’.”

“...I said that?” You ask.

“You did,” Kix answers, “And I fell in love with you at that moment.”

You stare at him, your eyes wide.

“And every day after that, I fall in love a little bit more. With every story you tell, with every word you speak, with every action you take.”

“Kix…”

“I want eternity with you.” Kix says seriously, “I’ve thought about it, I’ve spoken to my brothers about it. And eternity won’t be terrible if I’m walking it with you.” He pauses for a moment, and a wry smile crosses his face, “I also really, really want to kiss you.”

You laugh softly, and his other hand comes up to cradle your face. “How about we make a deal?”

“What kind of deal?” Kix asks.

“Two years.” You say as your hands come up to cradle his face, and he almost purrs at the feel of your hands against his skin, “Give me two years as my boyfriend, and if, at the end of two years, you still feel the same, then I will agree to turn you.”

He thinks about it for a minute, and then his gaze snaps to your face, “Deal. Two years. But, cyare, I’m not going to change my mind.”

“So you say,” You reply with a small smile.

His smile becomes soft, and he leans in and very gently presses his lips against yours. And then he kisses you again and again, each kiss becoming more heated than the last.

Until he pulls you onto his lap and tangles his hands in your hair, and crashes his lips against yours like he needs your lips against his to breathe. And the food remains on the table, forgotten by the both of you.

**********

Two years and six months later, you finally fulfill your promise to turn him, two days after the start of your honeymoon.

[heimdallsram]

━━━━ masterlist. soundtrack. archive of our own. taglist.

title: perennial

pairing: heimdall x female! goddess! reader

"You were a goddess of oaths and vows. It was only fitting that Odin would bind you to his service in only the most ironic way that he knew how: marriage."

this fanfiction contains the following: domestic violence, blood, gore, choking, violent sexual content, bad BDSM etiquette, non-consensual somnophilia, blood drinking, unhealthy relationships, and much more content that may be sensitive to some readers. reader discretion is advised.

*for inquiries about the taglist, please dm me and i will add you to it.

When you woke, you were entirely alone. Your throat ached something fierce, and when you groaned and touched the back of your head tentatively, you felt blood against your fingertips, warm and steady. You wiped them on your tunic and stumbled to your feet, using your bed as a guide to your vanity. There, you saw, through blurred eyes, the full extent of what Heimdall had done to you.

 Bruises, livid and purple and blue, circled your neck like a particularly vile collar. You could make out his fingers and palm on the mark, so harshly he had handled you, and the burst capillaries in your eyes and face. Each swallow of spit was met with pain and you tried to speed up your healing as best as you could, but you only succeeded in making the swelling go down and the color fade to a green hue. Either you were weaker than you thought, or Heimdall was much, much angrier than he had thought himself capable of.

 Gently, you touched the bruises with the tips of your fingers. The mild twinge of pain sent something sparking up your belly and you felt almost sick at the realization that, while getting these bruises had not been pleasant, the pain felt pleasant to you. It made your stomach churn with the last night’s meal and you dropped your hand to your side, pinching the flesh there as if to wake yourself from some nightmare.

 But no, you were entirely awake—this was real.

 “Fuck,” you whispered softly to yourself. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

 You whirled on your heels to face your bed. There was no other trace of Heimdall in the room, save for the apple peelings he had left on your floor and the eaten apple core lying at the foot of your bed. He had strangled you to near death, eaten the rest of his apple, and left, uncaring if you had been bleeding out or not. Uncaring if your potential death would earn the resentment of the All-Father. You would have almost been impressed if you didn’t feel the burn of tears at your lashes or the tacky-dry spit on your chin or the twisting of your throat around the knot forming there.

 Slowly, and without grace, you collapsed on the floor and weeped. The gash at the back of your head wept with you, sliding down your temples and mingling with your tears to create pink rivers on your cheeks. They hit the floor with audible plinks, the splash landing on the soft insides of the apple peels that were the same vermillion color as the blood dripping from your skull. Your chest rolled and heaved as you suffocated your cries into your fist and tunic, anguish tearing through your body and mind.

 It had been a long time since you had cried with so much anger and distress. You did not think there would ever be a time again where you would feel it so deeply; it sat in your chest and stabbed you where you would feel it most, over and over again, until your gasping breaths were filled less with air and more with blood and tears. You had tried closing your mind and heart to it, to hide yourself from the emotions while you were within Asgard and under Odin’s thumb, but the near death experience had shattered the dam you had carefully build and brought it tumbling down around you.

 Death. A fate you had come so close to witnessing that you had glimpsed the halls of Valhalla. It was a strange thought, that you would ever belong in Valhalla, but you would desire it above Helheim in any regard. And Heimdall had brought you so close to its doors—you could not think any more of this. You could not breathe for the fear running up and down your spine, twisting your stomach into tiny knots and setting them alight with white flame.

  You were… terrified.

 “I cannot run,” you told yourself through bitter tears. “I cannot hide, I cannot fight, and I cannot win. I am weak.” Your lips wobbled dangerously. “I am weak.”

 It was not that your previous incarnations were born strong. You knew that. They had grown into their power, as they had said you would on your own, but it was painfully obvious that  you were not like them. You did not have their compassion, their strength, their power, their confidence, their sheer force of will. You were only… you, unable to do little more than aim in the dark and pray your aim was true. It was what you had been doing all this time, after all, putting on a false, gentle bravado that Odin despised and found enticing to have in his retinue of gods all the same.

 You swallowed thickly and wiped your eyes. It wasn’t doing you any good sitting on the floor and crying like a child. Odin was no doubt watching you with sick glee, wondering if he had somehow managed to break your walls down without even lifting a finger. He would be disappointed. Your walls, once you built them back up again, would be stronger, with less faults, less vulnerabilities. Death did not become you.

 When you would die, it would be on your terms. Never, ever would it be by the hand of a god you despised.

 As midday came, you pushed yourself off the floor and collected yourself the best you could. You bathed and washed the blood, sweat, and tears from your skin and hair. You patted your eyes with cool water and waited for the swelling to go down, just a little so that they didn’t look so tender and red. You withdrew clothing from your closet that would cover your neck thoroughly so no one could see it. You bundled your hair at the nape of your neck so it would hide the wound you knew was barely healed. You cleaned the blood from your floors and tossed the linens into a basket to be burned. You did everything you could think of to look as if you were untouched, impenetrable. 

  You only succeeded in looking like a scared, sad young woman who had the proverbial rug pulled from under her feet.

  “We’re all right,” you told yourself in the mirror. You inserted a golden pin into your hair, sharpened to a needle’s point and hollowed to hold poison. You were not strong in the way your predecessors were, but you could be powerful in other ways. Unexpected ways. “It will be alright. It will.”

 There was never a more blatant lie you had told yourself. It only made you feel marginally better and you wondered what the purpose was at all to lie to yourself.

  “You’re alright,” was the first thing out of Sif’s mouth when you exited your bedroom. You paused in clasping the high necked collar closed with a golden brooch, fingers tight over the cold metal. It was difficult not to feel like a wounded animal. “I had thought… I had thought. When I saw Heimdall enter your rooms, I did not think he would—“

 “Watch me while I slept? Strangle me for perceived transgressions that I had no part in?” Your voice was strained and hoarse. It sounded as if you had screamed until your lungs gave out. “You were wrong. But I do not blame you for it. It was not your place to intervene.”

 Sif averted her gaze plainly at the unspoken words that she knew were true. It was Odin’s. And he did not come. He never would.

 “I will walk with you on your errands,” she said firmly. There was guilt running rampant in her and you did not want her to feel that she was responsible for what had happened to you. It was Heimdall’s entirely, and yours, and Odin’s, no one else’s. “If only to make sure you are not alone today.”

 The night would be a different story. By dinner you would be married and when sleep would claim you, you would be wife to the monster who had broken your walls with only a single hand. But Sif offered you companionship if only for today, and you seized it, linking her arm with yours and allowing her to pull you outside of Odin’s home and into the fresh, biting air.

 As you walked down the muddy road towards the merchants, and it was obvious you were not keen on speaking first, Sif cleared her throat politely. “I have not seen that dress before. It flatters you.”

 Your smile was tiny and pitiful as you turned your gaze to look at her. “Thank you. It belonged to my predecessor before she… expired, you could say. I did not want to wear it and kept it mostly for remembrance, but I needed the strength today.”

 It was a beautiful piece, even if it was aged for the times. High necked, modest, with long sleeves and made of the softest velveteen silk. The bulky fur coat you had donned reduced some of its beauty, but you could not bring yourself to mind.

 “I see.” Sif paused to purchase two tankards of warmed cider. It was not something you usually drank, but it went down smoothly and helped your throat ease with the cold. The apples reminded you of Vanaheim, almost, with their tartness. “I figured you would need something to help with your voice. Before… I would do this for Magni and Modi, when the thought struck me.”

 You winced at the mention of the two boys. “I appreciate the thought. It did help, though… So thank you.”

 “You’re welcome.” She smiled warmly, some of the frost behind her eyes thawing. Then she looked away, pensive, watching as the townfolk piddled about their routines of restocking fruit or leathers and tying up bundles of herbs to keep their meats fresh. “I have always wondered… Do you kill everyone who has broken their vow to another?”

 Any calm you may have had previously melted away. Your spine stiffened and your grip on the tankard tightened to the point where the wood groaned under your grip. Sif seemed none the wiser of what she had asked and looked to you expectantly, but the words would not come from between your teeth. She realized, all too late, that she had overstepped, and turned her attention to the swirling cider in the cup she held.

 “That was insensitive of me.”

 “It was,” you agreed with a tight line to your lips. There was not a day that went by that you did not question why you chose to kill those who broke their vows and promises—but it was what felt right, what mercy and kindness could not do for you. “But since you have offered me peace for this moment, I will answer you: it is not my decision, nor is it anyone else’s, but the vow’s.”

 There were times that it pained you to lie to someone, and this was one of those times. Odin had eyes and ears everywhere within Asgard and Sif was, unintentionally, one of them. A word from her mouth and attention could be set on you, and you could not take that, not with your nuptials and most certainly not in such a precarious position your mental state was in. Odin would be able to crack you like a nut if he was aware of the holes in your walls and you would never let him do so.

  Sif, while misguided, was genuine in her guilt, much like Thor was in his self doubt. You knew resentment of Odin boiled just beneath the surface, but it was not your place to force them to take precedence over her vow with Thor.

 “I see. Then that training sword in your room is not for mere decoration?” She teased. Some of the tension left your shoulders at the shift in her tone. “Perhaps you may give Heimdall a run for his hacksilver. He would certainly deserve it.”

 Your mood darkened at the mention of Heimdall. “I do not wish to speak of him. Please, anything but that, Sif.”

 Her features softened considerably and she touched the sleeve of your dress in comfort. “I understand.”

 As the sun rose higher and threatened to dip in the sky, you and Sif parted ways. You had an oath to observe, one in the making, you had explained, and she was not keen on following you outside the wall. Like all others that were behind it, she somewhat feared the idea of leaving such safety; it was what had gotten Magni and Modi killed, after all, Thor’s punishment non-withstanding. It was what had earned Tyr his prison, in the end, though Odin was unaware you knew of his silent promise to keep the former God of War imprisoned for the rest of eternity.

 Before Sif left you to your own devices, her blue eyes flew to the top of the wall where the monster laid in wait. Her brows furrowed tightly in concern. “You will be alright? Facing him so soon?”

  “I do not have a choice.” You tightened your fur coat around your neck unconsciously. You truly did not want to go up on that wall, or observe another stupid oath, but you had told Sif that you were bidden to the whims of fate and so you would go. “I was vulnerable in my sleep. But I am awake, now, and I can defend myself.”

 Somewhat. You were no warrior, that was for certain, and Sif knew it. But, for what reason you could not be sure, she gave you a wary smile and patted you on the back. A warrior’s comfort. It was no encouragement, but she was throwing her support behind you, what little it would mean to Heimdall.

 You spent the entire walk to the wall trying to prepare yourself for the inevitable. Your stomach twisted itself into countless knots and your mind screamed at you to turn right around and hide in your room until dinner, but you could not. You would not allow him to see you as vulnerable as you had been this morning. There had to be something you could do to wake yourself from the visits with Inkeri and the others, but for now, you could only silently put up the shield in your mind and pray it would work now. It had held up so far, but after you had collapsed you had found it in shambles—not as if someone had pried through it, but it had buckled like a newborn calf. Piecing it back together had been an arduous task, but you had managed during your walk with Sif.

 “I have a task for you, but you seem to be busy.” Odin slipped into pace with you easily as you approached the dirt path to the wall. You did not pause, but your step hitched just slightly. “Another oath?”

  “One being made,” you offered as collateral. He made a noncommital hum and you tried not to frown. “The task… what is it?”

  He sighed. “And here I had thought you had learned a lesson from your previous disrespect.” There was a pointed glance at the fur shielding your throat from both view and the cold. “I supposed not. Anyway, here. When you’re done… observing, or whatever it is you do, I want you to go to Midgard. There’s something I want you to retrieve from Tyr’s temple: a scroll. And don’t worry, your wedding ceremony will be waiting for you when you get back.”

 All of your plans to center yourself and reinforce your body’s pathetic healing shattered all around you. You kept the clenching of your fists hidden under your coat.

 “A scroll detailing..?”

 “Oh, nothing much, just some obscure magic I was looking into.” Odin did not shrug, but the turn of his lips seemed to indicate the casual nature of the scroll. It was not important in the least. He was merely looking to distract and confuse you, leaving you no time to prepare your defenses against him. “Take your time. We won’t start without the bride to be! And…” He waved his hand over towards the wall and you watched Heimdall’s shadow stiffen, then slowly, as if pained, send the lift down without himself. “He won’t trouble you for now. Good compromise, eh?”

 The words poured out of you without a thought. “It is only a good compromise if he winds up dead.”

 “Oh, well, I didn’t expect this to be easy with you.” Odin turned his back to you. If only you could get up the nerve to unsheathe your dagger and bury it in his spine. “I’ll see you before the wedding.”

 Even when he was gone, you could not muster the strength to feel anything other than fear. Heimdall awaited you at the top of that wall and while Odin’s promises only meant so much, you knew the wall guard would not disobey his command. He would mock you, yes, but he would not lay a finger on you, you hoped.

 True to his word, Heimdall did not bother you as you climbed into the elevator and and climbed slowly to the top. But as you stepped out and carefully avoided his gaze, he watched you, eyes observing the way you hunched slightly into yourself and gave him a wide berth. He never opened his mouth, but you could feel the taunts floating around you like physical phantoms, and when you hurried further to the other lift where you would be taken down to the village, he did not seem surprised. A spark of mirth was in his stare as you kept your face pointed straight ahead, unwilling to look at him.

 “Aren’t you an entertaining thing,” were his parting words as you stepped on to the grass down below. He had chuckled darkly after the fact, and you could hear him as clearly as if you were standing beside him.

 You schooled your features into something resembling indifference even as tears threatened to spill over your cheeks. You would observe this oath and then… and then you would take your time in Midgard. You would seek out Lady Freya—that was where Odin had bound her, did he not? You would retrieve the scroll and ask her advice, even if the rumors that the former Queen was entrenched in her despair had reached Asgard with its intensity.

 What you did not expect, as you stepped out of a flurry of Odin’s ravens with Huginn on your shoulder, with tears in your eyes and a heaviness in your heart, was to be greeted by a young boy and a dwarf.

 They were as equally as bewildered to see you, it seemed, the pair looking to each other and back to you as one.

 “Oh my,” the dwarf stuttered, hands working nervously in the air,”Oh, this isn’t good.”

 “Sindri,” you realized belatedly. The smile that crawled over your face was one of genuine delight and your tears seemed to break under the happiness you felt. “I did not expect to see you so far without Brok.”

 “You know this lady?” the boy inquired. He was young, but well on his way to maturity, with all the awkwardness of a child shifting between boy to man. He held a bow in one hand an an arrow in another, notched lightly on the string, but you were not oblivious to magic that seeped from his hands and into the weapon. “But the ravens…”

 “Odin’s, yes,” Sindri corrected bravely, turning those surprised eyes on you. “But this… this is the Lady Var, Goddess of Oaths and Agreements. Or… an older version of her, I think. You look cleaner than the last time I saw you, my lady. Ah, no offense—!”

 The warmth in your belly threatened to overwhelm you. You smiled at him and inclined your head. “I understand, Sindri. I am older, yes, and cleaner. I have not taken to rolling in the mud since my appointment to Asgard.”

 Sindri appeared shamed. “I did not mean to infer…”

 “Of course not. I know you, my friend.” You turned your attention to the boy, then, your curiosity tingling. There were multitudes of secrets and oaths pouring out of this boy, more than even Odin’s. He was important—something true and powerful. Before you could stop yourself, you reached out and touched the threads connecting him to… someone else, mouth moving in silent surprise. “Oh my.”

 The man-child jerked back. “What are you—?!”

 “Don’t panic,” you soothed, raising your hands politely. Huginn had vanished from your shoulder, the weight strange and unfamiliar. He would be reporting this to Odin, no doubt. But you did not care when the happiness you felt eclipsed your fear and despair. “I was reading your oaths. Forgive me.”

 “It’s her ability,” the blacksmith offered. “She means you no harm.”

 “But she’s from Asgard.”

 “Yeah, well…” Sindri paused to look at you. “She’s one of the good ones.”

 And that made the tears begin to pour anew.

 “My lady?”

 “Apologies.” You wiped your eyes with the corner of your sleeve. “I did not intend to cry. But seeing you here has renewed me. It has not been easy, living in Asgard under Odin’s watch.”

 “I can imagine.” The boy nodded in understanding. “My name’s Atreus. Nice to meet you…?”

  You offered your name with a smile. He was adorable, in his own way. “It’s nice to meet you, Atreus.”

 “My lady? If you have time to spare, perhaps Brok would like to see you. He has a gift waiting for you. Er, has had one for quite a while. If you’d like to have it.”

 “I would love to see that grump again.” You held out your hand and, after a moment of hesitance, Sindri carefully enveloped your fingers in his. It was almost as it was hundreds of years ago, when you had been just a child, frolicking in the mud and greenery of Vanaheim and spying on the two blacksmiths with a wandering eye. “Let us go.”

 All the while a crystal green bird watched, and waited, as you passed through a glowing door and vanished into Yggdrasil, your presence gone from Midgard.

 Odin blinked the power from his eyes with a frown. “What a shame.”

| next.

taglist: @versiesleeps

[dribs-and-drabbles]

Chains of Heart ep 8

I'm nearly done! Until Saturday when ep 9 airs and questions are answered but more are created 🤪

Anyway... Ep 8 started brilliantly with the red and green in the entrance to Din's parents home as Lue lets himself in.

Then Lue has another green scarf poking out from his collar when he tries to stop Ken on the road from going to the bridge. In the car with Deedee, Ken says he's heading somewhere dangerous because it's a life or death situation for him - and I think he means it in an emotional sense -> that Ken will either live (if Din shows up) or die inside (if Din doesn't show up)...and I think Lue knows this and wants to prevent Ken from experiencing that pain because Lue isn't ready to reveal himself to Ken. (Also I love that the green and bits of red appear in the table cloth as well).

I'll write more about Payu and Hin in my random thoughts post, but at this point I'm starting to believe Payu doesn't know that Lue is Din. I think Hin might but it's possible that neither do. I do think Payu is hiding something...and I think I'm right that it's Deedee who Payu sent to keep an eye on Ken. Spot the figure to the right in the preview for ep 9 (pic on the right below) there's only one person who dresses like that in the show - and this is when Ken will ask if Payu thinks he's naive. Also notes he's in green and red -> a difference to the usual blues he wears...so maybe the 'mask' is off now).

I do love that the scarf they used to mute and blind Din's mother is in his green. She literally can't answer their questions about him because she genuinely doesn't know/hasn't seen him.

And speaking of accessories, I love that on one of the most important days for Ken and Din's love, Deedee had a purple cap on. It's more about the purple around Ken than the fact that Deedee is wearing it of course. But I think, if Payu has sent Deedee to look out for Ken, he might know the heartbreak ahead for Ken and therefore the purple and his efforts to keep Ken away is doubly heartening.

And so for the DRAMA, and the dramatic red lighting is back. I love how the red and green are only on Sai's side of the confessional booth (maybe symbolic of her knowledge of Din/Lue)...but then as Nok gets angrier the red seeps over to his side too...until the second Lue enters and suddenly the green light appears!

And this is quite delicious. I know hospital gowns in Thailand are generally green, but I love the green on Din as his new face is revealed, but he's lying on a bed of blue (Ken), whilst the nurse's uniform looks to have a purple hue to it. I can't wait to see the whole story about this next ep.

And speaking of purple, I'm feeling very correct in my theory that purple is for Ken and Din's love for each other...as ep 9's preview shows Ken holding Din's necklace against a strong purple background. Also, I wish I had the energy and time right now to scour the series for whosever's shoes these are on the river bank. I need to know who that is! At first I thought Hin but he has different shoes...but maybe Boon? The dodgy doc? Don? We'll soon know!

[ep 1] [ep 2] [ep 3] [ep 4] [ep 5] [ep 6] [ep 7] [ep 8] [ep 9] [ep 10]

[petrichoraline]

never let me go or fish upon the sky

i am just now comprehending this question lol i was about to say it's a wild choice to make but i just realised the common denominator lmaoo

nlmg was my first pondphuwin show and my introduction to pond; i started watching it just to keep up with the community though i believed it was going to be too sad for me. i enjoyed watching it weekly, giffing it, contemplating palmnueng's dynamic and writing about it (thanks to the anon who asked me a question back then which i took days to answer 🤦‍♀️) - i did not, however, enjoy the last episodes as much, especially the finale - i was practically waiting for it to end impatiently. i think a part of why i enjoyed it was participating in the community discussions and stuff and also having an episode or two per week made it easier to digest. once i was binging, though, i became more impatient with the plotholes and conveniences.

futs was A Lot - the humour hit more than it missed or at least i'd like to think it did - the kitty gang are one of the most fun friend group supporting characters (also satang nail polish >>>) and despite the weirdest, most out of left field conflict between them in the last episodes, duean and meen remain a very cute side couple that could beat morkpi in many categories. there was a red lamp going off in my head during the first six episodes but im the type to give the benefit of the doubt so i ignored it until i couldn't anymore. i binged this show in two bites iirc - i stopped at the end of ep.5 and then proceeded the next day - 2 episodes later i was already having a Not good time lol, trying to justify things, hoping it's all intentional, that things will get better and when they kept getting worse? oh, it took a toll on me. i'm so grateful for the humour, aesthetics and supporting cast for getting me through it. because it truly is an enjoyable little show when it stays away from mork (and would i LOVE to stay away from mork - even pond playing him couldn't help, it actually made me associate pond's appearance with mork which was awful ngl)

yeah, anyways, if i have to pick i want to say nlmg, i just realised i even watched the our skyy 2 episodes and they were perfect and highlighted the couple's dynamic beautifully

the truth is if i haven't watched smth in a while i'll probably just think of how easy to the eye i found it and in this case it wasn't the muted greens, browns, blues and purples of nlmg :')

futs drove me up the wall, left me angrier than i thought possible, made me sick of pond's face and left me in disbelief nearly every episode, i watched the finale angry and ready to leave it all behind. which is honestly so impressive?? cause after all the anger i barely remember the feeling but i remember that it was colourful and quirky. maybe it's a me thing but still, it's valuable. when i read fish upon the sky i get hit by so many emotions at once, you'd think it's of the quality of itsay or smth.

basically: nlmg is closer to my heart. futs is closer to my fist. they're both pondphuwin projects i watched/restarted watching under influence (iirc @respectthepetty's for nlmg and @sparklyeyedhimbo and @pondphuwin's for futs), they both have their higher chemistry/lower chemistry couples, their silly and not-so-silly villains, their ups and their downs. i will pick nlmg but futs is a winner too, it's just in a league of its own.

[haytham-loves-chocolate]

A small draft I’ve thought about (sappy prompt #16 is included somewhat in this)

“Why can’t I kiss you? Why won’t you let me kiss you?”

Her cries silently breaks his heart, seeing him walk away without a glimpse or touch of affection. His body turns to see her posture tensed, her hands clenched into fists then back to hands, her glossy eyes, her biting her lip, the anxiety of all this finally getting to her. That she feels like she isn’t loved by the one she gives her all for.

“You know I’m always here for you.” He tries to calm the situation, which only makes her angrier.

“You’re not now. Right now, I don’t know what the future is going to be for us, for me. And I’m afraid. Afraid to lose you, lose me, my mind, and, I wish I could go back in time to see you again. I want to so badly, don’t you see?”

“You have never been touched.” His hands close together behind his back, and his demeanor, his lips, the furrow of his eyebrows. It’s like he can read her through. “A gentle hug, to let your heart out. Would you like me to do that?”

“I, I think it’s what I need, yes.” She wipes the tears that dare to drop down her cheeks with the palm of her hand, and her fingers brush off the ones stuck on the baggy eyes of hers. More like veins bulging through the skin, to make a line of purple under her eyes.

He doesn’t need to say anymore words, as her feet start to walk, her tears streaming down her face, and finally feels release in his arms. His gentle hug, breaks her down into a broken shell, a part of herself that was begging to exist now does. He doesn’t move, doesn’t flinch, just there, is he. He rocks her side to side, slowly as he hears her cries. Her head falls on his chest, listening to his heartbeat, trying her best to calm down.

“Let it all out, love.”

That sentence sends her reassurance, a calming reminder that she has someone to cry on. That his touch is… loving, caring, and a peaceful one.

[the-girl-with-the-glass-heart]

A luke warm review of the live action monster high movie

I pirated the monster high movie last night so i'm going to review it.

Allow me to start this review off with a few quick notes.

1. I am well aware of the controversies surrounding this movie, the racist director, the colorism, ect. with that being said, i wanna judge this movie based on how it actually is rather than the controversy surrounding it. This does not give anyone the excuse to ignore these issues, i just think these points have been said many many times by people who are much better at explaining this than somebody like me, who is so white i am practically marble.

2. I'm the kinda person who's incredibly forgiving to movies, i like liking things, i go into some of the most garbage movies with positive vibes. I also have garbage taste in everything. Try to take my review with an optimistic grain of salt. I'm also not a professional movie critic so alot of my critiques are shallow and not very detailed.

3. This is all just my opinion, you will most likely feel differently and that's okay, no pressure, i will not force you to like this movie be unique be urself be a monster or whatever. I will have some opinions in this post you are bound to disagree with and that's fine.

THE GOOD

-Something i think is really underrated about this movie that people never talk about is the set design, it actually looks like monster high, like the actual playset. They could of easily made it look like knock off hogwarts or just painted a normal school purple but they actually tried.

-I know everyone was dunking on the clothes and the wigs and the fact they don't look like monsters enough but i actually loved most of the outfits in this movie. Granted i'm not a huge fashionista and i was always in monster high for the stories than tje clothes but i think they did a good job. I mean they're on a tv budget and they had to make multiple outfits for multiple characters. This movie probably already costed alot with the make up, clothes, and VFX already. I specifically really like frankies clothes.

-The music is pretty nice! I mean it's no classic musical theatre or as iconic as steal the show or the fright song... buuut, i think the music is all pretty good. Coming out of the dark and its reprise is especially sweet, the only song i don't really like is the three of us, i just can't get the groove tbh. I also really like how in monster heart komos has christian youth pastor vibes and how in i can trust you they mixed in the snake sounds. Just be me also is very cute but i swear i've heard it that chorus before. I'm glad they got kids who can actually sing tbh.

-I thought the humor was all around very solid! Frankie was pretty funny at times, speaking of which...

-this version of frankie is very sweet and very very autistically coded, i think cici balgot is perfect for this version of frankie ngl, i'd love to he friends with this frankie irl.

-by herself and not compared to the og i think this version of clawdeen is also quite sweet. obviously she is nothing like her og cartoon counterpart but for what she is in this movie i think she's very cute. Also keep in mind i didn't care much for clawdeen in the og anyways, i found her voice really cringe and like i said, i was never a fashionista so i was always more into frankie or draculaura. If i actually loved clawdeen or wasn't basically a sentient sheet of paper i would probably be alot angrier.

-the acting is all around solid, that's all i have to say tbh.

-the opening scene is very cute.

-i also like the ending where they all float.

-i'm just happy the kids all had a fun time filming this, i know that doesn't actually affect the quality of the movie but child stars are hardly ever treated well and they all got alot of hate during the production of this movie.

-i do like the allegory of racial prejudice against biracial people, just judging it by itself it was a cool take on it that i think it was handled actually better than freaky fusion. Freaky fusion was a mess tbh tho so that isnt saying much.

THE BAD

-the climax lasted like 4 minutes, i get its a short movie but COME ON, AT LEAST BUILD UP A LITTLE MORE.

-I don't like deuce and clawdeen being a couple, i wish they were just good friends tbh and just vaugely hinted at it. I do like what they did with their relationship tho.

-Cleos development was weird, i feel like they made her such a weird character in this movie, although it is sweet that she learned to accept that clawdeen loved deuce.

-i don't like this new draculaura, i don't care that she's taiwanese now, she just doesn't seem all that interesting. She's by far the most forgettable ghoul in the trio.

-Lagoona, Ghoulia, abbey, and heath did NOTHING in this movie. I understand time restraints but seriously, why even have em in there if you already have a limited budget and you aren't going to do anything with them. People might be pissed but at least the plot wouldn't be all bloated.

-This is a problem in the og but i think its weird that frankie was presumabley made by humans and made out of humans but she doesn't seem to care about the human stigma. Cleo also doesn't give a shit yet she used to be human. It's weird that a narcissist like cleo wouldn't be at least a little offended.

-Deuce is so so bland in this movie, he's sweet at sometimes but fuuuuck, he is so bland.

-Clawdeens mom is dead, listen i love the dead mom trope and it kinda makes sense for the story but it feels weird. Idk how you would fix it but just... it's weird.

-The writing at times was a real mess and alot of things made no sense. Why would clawdeen lie about her dads name being pierre? That's a way more human name than fuckin apollo. Why did draculaura say she hates sun when she was wearing a hoodie? Just flip up the hood!

-as much as i like the humor in this movie, the PA announcer is annoying, they used her too much.

-the plot twist about the hand lock thing was so dumb, especially because frankie could of opened it from the beggining.

THE I DONT KNOW HOW TO FEEL

-ghoulia talks, on one hand i understand if you wanna give her lines because it would work better for the movie, on the other hand, she didn't do anything in the movie so why change it?

-SPOILER!........... Komos is revealed to be hydes son, cool i guess. I'll miss jackson/holt.

.... that's it.

Overall probably would pirate it again. 4.9/10. Wouldn't even mind if they made a sequel, as long as they change directors. I mean whatever you think about this movie i think we can all agree that no matter what, at least it's better than the bratz movie, the winx saga, power puff girls cw, and jem and the holograms.

[musicfeedsmysoul12]

Sports Festival: AKA How Many Times Will Izuku Blush Chapter 3

Summary: With the future spelled out in multiple ways, Izuku now faces off in a series of battles to win the sports festival! Except you know, he’s facing off against all his future lovers and they’re all very interested in winning his heart. The stadium, Japan, and various others watch!

Part of the Photos/Videos Verse!!

On AO3!

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Having children had never been Hisashi’s plan. He’d wanted a successor to his role in the underworld. He chose to use Shimura Nana’s grandson for it as soon as he heard of the boy. It was easy to goad the father more and more to get him angrier at his family. 

 Hisashi was old. He was ancient, and while he’d like to stay alive for much longer, he also lost interest in the Japanese underworld. It was time to move on. And using the grandson of one of the annoyances seemed perfect. He’d also hoped to continue the game he started with the annoyances. Drawing the fools to a new continent would be fascinating. 

 Then he’d had a child. His marriage to Inko was based on sex and a little vacation for him. He’d never meant to have a child. But he’d wondered what sort of Quirk he’d have. The ability to steal Quirks just by wanting them? No touching or tentacles needed? A copy Quirk?

 Sadly the child had no Quirk. Or so Hisashi thought as he dismissed the boy. He’d provide for Inko and Izuku but barely did he care about them. Inko was for stress relief, and Izuku was just there. However, it seemed Hisashi had been wrong.

 Izuku did have a Quirk. An analytic one? Something that let him use One for All to its fullest potential. The sound of that Quirk… Hisashi wanted it. Sadly the damn thing probably got eaten by One For All like all the rest. No matter, his son would be easy to sweep into the fold with Tomura, one of his possible lovers. Perhaps he could gain the Quirk later on. Or hell, maybe he would let Tomura loose from the various brainwashing Quirks. It would be fun to see that happen, Tomura fighting against him when Hisashi taught him everything. 

 Hisashi chuckled. Oh, he was going to be entertained.

-0-

Hero Ficstastic: Ugh

Drama Lama: What’s wrong?

Hero Ficstastic: Some asshole commented on my Manual fic asking about my All Might one. Like an entire: I have to gush about this other fic when will it update thing.

Drama Lama: oh yikes! Like seriously? They think that’s okay?

Hero Ficstastic: Yeah. Really killed the mood to write more you know?

Drama Lama: totally understand. 

NOTICE ME HAWKS is online

NOTICE ME HAWKS: Oh god!!! Are you guys watching the sports festival?

Hero Ficstastic: No? Babysitting the tiny terror. 

Drama Lama: dude I’m working. I have zero time to do shit.

NOTICE ME HAWKS: Okay well if you’re on break: [LINK] WATCH.

Hero Ficstastic: … Is it ethical to write about a teenager?

Drama Lama: Don’t do sex and you’re fine. 

Hero Ficstastic: It’s RPF. I never do sex. That’s just weird.

-0-

 Nejire had never been happier that she preferred women as when she saw the stink eyes Mirio and Tamaki were getting when they walked into the arena. They’d been contacted by Nezu, who requested they come in order to ‘keep all variables under control.’

 Ha. More like the principal wanted to get some entertainment. Nejire was one of the big three, even if she didn’t act like it. She knew Nezu found this hilarious and wanted to see what would happen. It was all right; Nejire found it hilarious too.

 “Man, they’re reeeeeally mad,” she said in her best sing-song as they walked through the halls. They were passing by three different class 1A members at once, all shooting a glare at them. Definitely, Nezu’s doing. 

 “Would you stop that,” Tamaki whined.

 “Hmmm… nope!” Nejire giggled. “Oh, look! Midoriya!” She pointed at a screen showing him and the purple-haired boy who’d shown up as one of the guy’s lovers. Mirio and Tamaki snapped to attention. Midoriya’s face was incredibly red as the other kid leaned in, grinning wildly. Izuku took a step back, squeaking and then froze. The mic on the stage caught the following words.

 “I’d ask for a kiss, but brainwashing you to do so is full-on disgusting. So walk out of the ring, all right babe?” the boy asked, and Izuku began obeying, walking away.

 “No!” Mirio looked upset as Tamaki groaned.

 “This is gonna hurt him.” the soft boy whispered, and Nejire hummed, watching the screen. It looked like a win until a sudden gust of air occurred, Midoriya’s fingers breaking. He turned around to face the purple guy, who looked shocked.

 “How…” Midoriya didn’t answer him, rushing the other to throw him out of the ring even as he began grappling. Sadly the purple guy didn’t have as much muscle.

 “Midoriya is the winner!” Midnight cried out. The mics caught the rest still.

 “How did you…”

 “I… I think One for All did something… I think I saw ghosts… can you brainwash me again?”

“...Yeah, sure.” 

 “Man!” Mirio laughed. “Izuku is awesome!”

 “Yeah…” Tamaki said in his gentle way, eyes becoming hearts. Nejire grinned. She needed to make Midoriya her friend right now. Finding out how Quirk might have ghosts and then asking to be brainwashed to see them? Hell yeah, sign her up for that friendship.

-0-

Hawks @itsabirdnamedhawks

[Picture of Hawks outside the UA sports festival stadium]

Taking the chance to visit the kid responsible for the chaos going down!

Cherry on Top @letsgocrazy

What do you say to all of the comments going on about the case against the HPSC?

Hawks @itsabirdnamedhawks

I can’t comment on an active case!

August Falke is Bae @nerdforheroics

AKA: I can’t say anything since I’m the victim. 

-0-

 Izuku sat in the infirmary, looking at his hand as Recovery Girl patched it up. His brain was running in two different directions. 

1- Ghosts. So his Quirk had ghosts now, apparently. All right then, he was going to beg for answers from All Might. There had to be an answer.

2- Holy shit, he was going to be in the final battle at the sports festival. There was no other reaction other than panicked screaming inside of his head. 

 “Young Midoriya?” All Might said, entering the room. Izuku looked up at him with wide eyes.

 “I’m in the finals!” he squeaked. All Might chuckled.

 “You are! Right where you deserve to be, my boy!” the man laughed as Recovery Girl sighed.

 “I suppose that’s true, but please be more cautious, Midoriya,” she told the boy. “The world’s eyes are on yourself right now, and you need to be careful with your Quirk.” She paused. “Why hasn’t your original Quirk helped?”

 “I… maybe cause I don’t know how to use it….” Izuku frowned. From the sounds of it, his original Quirk was based on analysis that worked primarily when he held a different power inside of him. So why didn’t it work? 

 “Have you come at it sideways?” a new voice asked. The pro-Hero Hawks appeared in the doorway. Izuku squealed, unable to hide it, hands covering his mouth.

 “Ohmygodit’sHawks!” he muttered. Hawks gave him a grin.

 “Sup, kid? You’ve caused quite a stir.” Hawks said, a brief look of exhaustion crossing his face before vanishing.

 “Oh…” Izuku said, remembering what had been revealed. “Uh…”

 “How are you, Hawks?” All Might asked, looking at the younger hero in worry. The winged hero shook his head.

 “Been better. Nezu reached out and asked me to come by. Agent Zero requested I get a neutral party to look me over to check everything the Commission did, so I came by to ask Recovery Girl if she can fit me in later.” Hawks nodded to the healer, who replied affirmatively.

 “I’m not a full doctor, but I can check you over and direct you to an actual doctor who can give you a better idea.” Recovery Girl said. She frowned. “When was the last time you took a break?”

 “My hero contract has me taking a day off every three weeks.” Hawks said dryly. All Might choked, eyes wide as Recovery Girl cursed loudly. “I know.”

 “Hawks… that’s horrible!” Izuku said, shaking his head. The winged hero waved a hand.

 “I’m aware, Midoriya. I’m not that blinded by them,” Hawks sighed. “Hearing two futures I was in, one where I had a kid and a spouse, one where I went villain… it shocked me. I realized that I couldn’t see those futures, too focused on being the Commission’s hero.” Hawks shook his head. “So, thanks. Thank you for showing me I was blind.” 

 “...You’re welcome.” Izuku swallowed. “Umm… two futures?” He could only remember one future.

 “Oh, right.” Hawks grinned. “Takami Keigo, at your service. Apparently, you and I can end up brothers-in-law.” He laughed. 

 “Oh! The Todoroki… right.” Izuku smiled at Hawks. “It’s nice to meet you… uhh, what did you mean by coming at my Quirk sideways?”

 “I can move my feathers telekinetically,” Hawks explained. “I can’t hear when they’re away from me, but I can still use them to pick up noise because that causes vibrations I can feel. That’s not something you can just guess at. Come at your Quirk, both of them, sideways.” 

 “Oh… wowthatissocoolitwouldrequirealot… wait, no One for All.” Izuku frowned, closing his eyes as All Might chuckled. Hawks sat down on a bench, drawing a look from Recovery Girl.

 “Safest place to hide right now. I don’t want to deal with people clamouring for my attention. I’ve got a lot to think on.” Hawks explained. Izuku tuned it out, thinking. Come at it sideways.

 All right so One for All is a stockpiling Quirk. It can stockpile strength and apparently Quirks which I can access due to my original Quirk, which… helps me understand Quirks. I have a that work will lose some meaning by the end of today. Though it does explain my interest in Quirks though it… doesn’t feel right thinking that it’s because of my Quirk I’m good at analysis… probably my Quirk actually poking me. It gave me interest but the rest is me. So… analyze One for All. It’s a stockpile where I needed to build muscle mass to contain it inside my body, and I break limbs when I focus… 

 “I am an idiot,” Izuku announced, eyes opening. 

 “Completely obvious?” Hawks asked in amusement.

 “I need to activate it in my whole body.” Izuku groaned. “Not just a limb!” The rest of the room traded wide-eyed looks, all wondering why they hadn’t thought of that either. 

 They were all idiots.

-0-

Baby Got Back @queenofyouall

So like… Aldera. I just heard sixteen different stories about it. What’s the truth?

Sugar Honey Iced Tea @iwillfightgodandallmight 

It’s a hell hole. I used to work there, and tried everything to get people to pay attention to it. 

Baby Got Back @queenofyouall

Really? Wow, why did no one look into it?

Sugar Honey Iced Tea @iwillfightgodandallmight 

[Picture of a bookshelf with a book circled in red]

Cause every fucking time we tried MLA sympathizers would come and see this utter horseshit. 

Baby Got Back @queenofyouall

MLA!? What?! Aren’t they a terrorist group?!

Sugar Honey Iced Tea @iwillfightgodandallmight 

No, because they’re defunct. But I sure as hell have theories that might prove otherwise. 

Sugar Honey Iced Tea @iwillfightgodandallmight 

Ha, guess who just got contacted by the police and a few heroes. Good, let’s blow this shit up.

-0-

 Izuku stepped out of the infirmary to stop. He closed his eyes. “How many people am I going to almost run into?” he asked, unable to help it. Tokoyami chuckled, shrugging as Dark Shadow popped out of him, cheering. 

 “Midoriya!” the shadow being said, leaning towards Izuku.

 “Cease, Dark Shadow,” Tokoyami scolded. “The champion of the light is not yet a partner.”

 “Yet, huh?” laughed Hawks, coming out of the infirmary. Tokoyami jerked back, eyes wide as Shouji and Asui stopped short behind him.

 “Hawks?” Shouji asked in surprise. 

 “Are you here to keep an eye on Izu-chan, kero?” Asui asked with a croak. Izuku blinked. Right she asked him to call her Tsu. Her words got grumpy looks from the two boys as Dark Shadow pouted.

 “Sort of. Here to avoid a lot of the press.” Hawks explained. “You guys did good out there. Great teamwork!” he grinned. “I know a lot of us heroes saw and made a note of it, even if you might not have made it higher.” The trio beamed. 

 “Indeed,” All Might said, not bothering to puff up. “We all did.”

 “Thank you…” Tokoyami looked at him in confusion. All Might shrugged with a smirk. Izuku looked at him in confusion though the hero waved him off. 

 “Young Midoriya, I believe that young Todoroki and Uraraka are still fighting. Perhaps head to the waiting room?” All Might said to Izuku, who gave a nod.

 “Right,” he said. He paused before looking at his classmates. “Umm… did Sero…”

 “He told us you were okay with flirting,” Shouji said, shrugging. “But I think right now you shouldn’t be too distracted.”

 “Yeah, kero.” Tsu agreed. “We came this way ‘cause the ice was making me really tired, and Tokoyami wanted to come with me. Shouji followed…” she peaked at Shouji, who chuckled.

 “Wanted to see if I could see Midoriya even if I wouldn’t flirt.” Shouji’s words caused Izuku to go bright red, covering his face. Shouji laughed a little as All Might sighed.

 “He’s going to lose so much blood to the face after this….”

 “At least we know he’ll be very popular in the future.” Hawks joked. “Unless he does go underground like he does in a few of the versions, it’ll be useful.”

 “Izu-chan is cute enough; he wouldn’t need that,” Tsu said.

 “Yeah!” Dark Shadow cheered. “Fumi had a crush way before this-”

 “Dark Shadow!” Tokoyami shouted. Izuku responded by moving away from them, face in his hands. 

 He would end up with a permanent blush; he just knew it.

-0-

Fuyumi: I don’t know what to think…

Natsuo: Touya is alive, Shouto might have a great husband in the future, and Dad is finally being punished?

Fuyumi: Natsuo! 

Natsuo: Fuyumi. You’re a teacher! Would you make your students forgive their parents for what Endeavour did to us?

Fuyumi: No. And I got told by my boss I have to go to therapy before I can come back to work.

Natsuo: Oh… well, no offence but good. You need it.

Fuyumi: I just want to be a family.

Natsuo: We can, you just need to understand for us that Endeavour is and will never be our father. Not anymore. 

Fuyumi: He’s mine…

Natsuo: and I’m happy he is. But again: you have to accept things are never going to be picture-perfect.

Fuyumi: I’ll try.

-0-

 Momo observed the field, Jirou and Koda beside her, muttering to one another. By Momo’s count, everyone but the three of them, along with Kaminari and Kirishima, had interacted with Izuku after the calvarybattlel. Kirishima had gone off to check on Bakugou, though he came back unable to find the boy. 

 “Oh, I hope things turn out well for Midoriya,” Momo worried. The battle with Uraraka included the girl throwing the glacier Todoroki tried to trap her in right back at the dual-haired boy. It caused quite a mess, though in the end, Todoroki came out the winner. Momo worried for her classmates in the infirmary and the next fight. 

 “Iz… Midoriya will be fine,” Jirou voiced, correcting herself quickly. “Todoroki saw the same future as us; ten to one, he’ll knock him out.”

 “Or he could win, kero,” Asui remarked as she looked over the field. The rest of the class glanced at her in surprise. “He could. I don’t know if he fully can- Todoroki is strong, kero. But Izu-chan is gonna be number one, right?”

 “Yes, but he can’t use his Quirk well right now,” argued Momo.

 “When we were heading to the infirmary, I overheard him figure out what he was doing wrong,” Shouji said. “It’s… really short notice, though. So who knows.” 

 “I hope he doesn’t hurt himself too bad,” Kouda signed. Kaminari laughed a little.

 “Well, maybe that might help whatever issue Todoroki has to get through his head?” he shrugged at the dangerous looks shot at him. “Look; apparently, something went down here for them. We need to see what happens.”

 “I bet it’s going to be MANLY as hell!” Kirishima chirped, even though his eyes were strained. Probably due to Bakugou Momo thought. Frankly, after what they learned and saw in the one future where Izuku lost his leg, she had no more interest in the blonde. Perhaps he could become a hero still. Time would tell, but Momo certainly wouldn’t be working with him. Petty? Perhaps. But she felt it more practical than not. Bakugou would have a sharp hill to climb now, with a few futures showing his behaviour and how it could impact the people around him. This would always hang over him even if he became a better person. In a way, it was a horrible punishment for him to be forever affected by this. He did become a hero in many futures. In one, he even made up with Izuku. But…

 “Our final match!” cheered Present Mic, distracting Momo from her thoughts. She needed to focus on the field. Izuku would be fighting Todoroki, after all! “Our future number one Midoriya Izuku versus the hot and cold teenager Todoroki Shouto!” the two boys walked out onto the field, Izuku’s hand bandaged.

 “Oh, I hope he’s all right.” worried Uraraka. “Midoriya is strong! But…” 

 “He’s not in control of his Quirk yet,” Momo murmured. 

 On the field, Izuku took a breath, facing Todoroki, who looked at him with a mostly blank face. A slight hint of worry was in the teen’s eyes, but mostly determination shone through.

 “I won’t use his fire,” Todoroki declared, uncaring of the mics.

 “It’s not his; it’s your fire,” snapped back Izuku. Todoroki blinked in confusion before Izuku charged him as soon as the start was announced. A stomp of his foot created a wave of ice heading towards Izuku, who lifted a hand to flick at it, shattering the ice. Todoroki glared, sending more out only for another flick to occur. Red lightning flickered around Izuku’s arm, slowly changing to green as the lightning moved over him. 

 “You’re going to hurt yourself,” Todoroki yelled, shooting more ice. Izuku flicked some fingers again, wincing. However, they didn’t break. 

 “Strained them now,” Izuku breathed out. “I’ll have to figure this out better, but right now? I think it’s enough.” He locked eyes with Todoroki. “I’m going to get you to use your Quirk to its full potential.”

 “I WON’T USE HIS FIRE!” Todoroki yelled, more ice flying out, though the teen shivered thanks to the production of more and more ice.

 “And it’s YOUR QUIRK, NOT HIS!” Izuku yelled, destroying the ice once more. Todoroki blinked, eyes wide right before he burst into flame.

-0-

Deer’’s Number 1 Fangoil @lightupmyworlddeer

Dekiru just broke like his fingers in order to get Todoroki to use his fire side. Holy shit. AND THEN HE PULLS OUT OH HEY I FIGURED THIS OUT.

August Falke is Bae @nerdforheroics

“It’s YOUR QUIRK, not HIS.” Good point kid. And holy shit!! The final part!! Just BOOM! Explosion!

Deer’’s Number 1 Fangoil @lightupmyworlddeer

Yeah. Wow this was a good year. 

-0-

 He was standing on the podium. Midoriya Izuku, the Quirkless freak, was on the stage for the UA sports festival. He was in second place. Beat to hell and back, yes- Recovery Girl told him an excellent doctor reached out to offer to do the surgeries to fix the injuries that had occurred from being thrown out of the arena due to the explosion. He’d head there the next day. But Izuku was in second place.

 Tears were heavy in his eyes as he stood there. Todoroki stood on the top pier, a small smile on his face. Shinsou and Uraraka were on the third one, beaming at the crowds. 

 “To deliver the medals, we have a special guest!” Present Mic was saying over the intercom. Midnight cracked her whip.

 “Give it up for ALL MIGHT!” she cheered as the man bounded down from the stands. The stadium went a little nuts in cheering. However, they stopped when the man began to steam. Izuku’s mouth dropped open as All Might let his muscled form fall, the skinny version all that remained. 

 “Ha!” All Might laughed at seeing the expressions on their faces. “Apologies, but I felt that I could stop hiding this form with so much new information revealed.” He winked, the camera catching it easily. “With my Quirk passed on already, my injury from a few years back is slowly claiming my remaining time in my big form. Might as well save it for heroics!” He smiled and turned to Midnight, who blinked before offering the medals. He took the bronze ones wordlessly.

 “Uraraka, you pushed hard today!” All Might said, ignoring the mutterings of the crowd effortlessly. “You truly showed skill and determination!” He slid the bronze medal over her head and stepped back with a smile. Uraraka smiled up at him, eyes shocked but pleased. “Young Shinsou, you showed the world that your Quirk does not define you,” All Might announced, turning to the purple-haired teenager. Shinsou gave a smile, cheeks flushed as he received the medal. “Keep it up!” All Might praised before he grabbed the silver medal from Midnight. Izuku felt his face warm, beaming up at All Might.

 “Young Midoriya…” the hero paused and then laughed. “Ages ago, when I met you and realized that you were the perfect successor, I never expected what happened.” All Might slipped the medal around Izuku’s neck before hugging him. “You did it, my boy; you screamed you’re here, even with the weight of the future on your shoulders.” Izuku’s eyes teared up, and he barely heard All Might move to give Todoroki his medal.

 He was too busy crying, a smile on his face and warm cheeks. 

 He’d done it.

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-I can’t remember where I saw it, and frankly if it turns out canon I’m laughing but I was grabbed by the idea that AFO purposely fucks with OFA users as part of a huge game because he’s bored. I ran with it. (I’m also ignoring all ‘AFO wants shiggy’s body’ stuff. That’s boring)

-The convo between Hero Ficstastic and Drama Lama is inspired by some real life events. I put my long term project POTSOD on hiatus due to being exhausted by people commenting on other fics ‘when will you update POTSOD’. I THEN got a comment on another fic: I know you turned off anon and I totally get it for the other fic but I’m going to GUSH about the other fic on this one! Yes, they were in the same series. But like… it hurts seeing that. It really does. So… yeah. To all the anons/commenters who do that: don’t. Is this petty? Yes. But I’m just so tired…

-Nejire is a top student, she’s not dumb. She is exciteable and cheerful, however I firmly believe she is more shrewd then we think.

-Hawks is here! And writing him is fucking hard ain’t gonna lie. He’s both laid back but a workaholic. He’s smart, and I wanted to show he has in fact realized how fucked the Commission is, and I wanted him to be a catalyst for Izuku. (Mostly cause I think when we get to his part in the future for Izuku it’ll be funny as fuck)

-Also, how Hawks knew it was him in the TodoDeku version was due to Miu’s name. It’s a name he plans on using for any children he would have. Paired with his own name? Yeah he knows.

-I would like to offer that everyone in MHA are dumbasses for not connecting that Izuku needs to circulate the Quirk through his whole body. This also is why RG doesn’t go: I won’t heal him anymore. Because she recognizes her own eff up here and goes: yeah we all failed.

-I think the MLA plot was dumb as hell in the manga, but it is useful for a plot device. I also would like to point out that the Destro book was being sold and known to be being sold. So in my eyes, MLA is not considered a threat anymore, and thus people aren’t as on edge. Now though we have a whistle blower deciding to raise hell on twitter.

-Look Izuku managed to mostly get Full Cowl down in two days while working with Gran Torino. Kid is fucking smart. 

-I don’t know when the next part will be out. I plan on focusing on original work for NaNoWriMo but I also created a miniature challenge I might try to do while working on my original stuff (plus you know school and work). It’s a Izuku has a bunch of soulmates AU. However I do plan on also posting throughout the month the rewrite of the beginning of an old series. I posted the first chapter yesterday; for those interested it is a Fem!Izuku series where she needs to choose a spouse due to various bullshit and we go through the path of various options. It’s called The Beginning for those interested. I have it fully rewritten hence why it is being posted.

[westerlyroleplay]

NAME: Matthew Bennett GENDER & PRONOUNS: Cis man / He/Him AGE & DATE OF BIRTH: 32 years old / January 28th HOMETOWN: Westerly, RI TIME IN WESTERLY: Returned 4 years ago RESIDENCE: Misquamicut OCCUPATION: Owner of Bennett’s Garage

LIFE WAS A      ——      willow.

Matthew was the product of highschool sweethearts Jasper and Lillibeth Bennett, his sister following suit a few years later. The two’s love story could be the envy of every romance author, no one loved their wife or kids more than Jasper Bennett did and he made sure that it was a well-known fact. Their household was a very warm and solid place, the four of them seemed to do anything and everything together without the slightest complaint besides for the occastionaly quip of how annoying it was that his little sister, was attached to Matty’s hip. All around the family was tight-knit and never lacking in love. Growing up his sister was labeled the wild one, and he was the calm one for their parents. Truth be told while jasper and lily liked to believe they only had to worry about their daughter sneaking out at night Matty did his fair share. The only difference being his parents never questioned him on his whereabouts, so when he told him he’d be spending the night at a friend's house to study and instead show up at a party they’d never believe it not their matty. 

The bennett parents put Matthew on a pedestal when he started school as he quickly began to excel in his studies and sports, soccer being there when he needed an escape. Regardless of whatever it was, if Matty put his mind to it he was going to be the best there was. So it never surprised anybody that he had received so many scholarship offers from some of the best colleges in the country. Despite his ‘golden boy’ title Matthew honestly didn’t have any college plans that were set in stone, often thinking he’d just take over the reins of his families auto shop whenever his father decided to throw the towel in though his dad made it clear that he wanted Matthew to do better than him. It was actually matty’s sister that pushed him to broaden his horizons and live a life that he wanted not one for their dad. During the last month of his senior year matty caught his dad cheating on his mom with one of his favorite teachers at the highschool. His father tried everything to get matty to not tell his mom what he saw, even tried telling him that he wasn’t seeing it correctly which only made the male angrier so he told his mom leading to their divorce. Matthew spiraled throwing all of his future commitments out the window and instead enlisted in the military without telling anyone and especially not telling his father. Scoring a 35 on his asvab test he signed up for six years of active duty. 

Ironically matty excelled in the army rising up the ranks quickly even signing on for four more years after his initial six was up. He actually felt like he found his place in life and the icing on the cake came when he made the position of staff sergeant at 27 finally getting his own squad. Everything was perfect, his squad quickly became the family that hr was missing and even when they had time off matthew found himself spending more time with their families then his own. It all came crashing down after six months after he turned 28, it was supposed to be an average mission, they would go in drop off supplies and head back to base only it didn’t turn out it be one. Matthew’s convoy was struck with an ied resulting in one survivor. Matthew. He ended up in a coma for three months and the only one left of his squad. He couldn’t look at himself in the mirror or even think about putting his uniform back on so he opted not to resign with the military.  He got a purple heart, and an honorable discharge from the military, but matty had a hard time adjusting back to civilian life.

He came back to Westerly after a few months in therapy dealing with his PTSD and survivor's guilt to take over ownership of the Auto shop that his mother won in the divorce. Three years later and he still has issues with his PTSD and survivor guilt, but finds joy and comfort in taking apart vehicles and putting them back together and if that fails there’s always a bottle of whiskey in the bottom drawer of his desk.

Portrayed by THEO JAMES, written by RAYNE.

[shoot-the-oneshot]

Hate the way

Basic off the song from Purple Hearts Hate the way

enemies to lovers lyrics in purple Pierre Gasly x reader  The one where you and Pierre hate each other, until you don’t

“Please be nice.” Sasha your media consultant begged as she lead you to the media room, by her words you already knew who would be there. Pierre Gasly, has hated you since day one. Part of you understood why, he thinks you took the Redbull seat from him, as a driver he should know that’s not how it works.

“I’m always nice,” Seeing the man in question sitting for the panel you inwardly groaned seeing your name next to his. “Pierre,” you drawled, making his jaw clench and exhale harshly out of his nose. While you smirked at how easy it was to piss him off he once mentioned how he hated the way you said his name, so you did it every chance you got.

Lewis seeing the rising tension offered to switch seats with you, which you politely declined, “No thanks Lewis, but I appreciate it,” at you words the Frenchmen huffed again, making you glare. “What hate the way i say his name too Pierre?”

‘I hate the way you do a lot of things Y/n.” He drawled your name out like you do his making your eyes narrow, his team principal has already gotten onto him many times about his behavior but his control and patience disappeared when you were around.  

Pierre cursed as the elevator doors opened showing you inside, deciding he could tolerate the short ride over waiting for the next one he stepped in standing as far away from you as he could get, folding his arms over his chest.

“I hate the way you say my name” he spoke as you tried to pretend he wasn’t there. “I know”

“Then why do you do it?” He growled through gritted teeth, getting angrier as you smiled. “Because you hate it.”

He doesn’t know where it came from but for a second Charles words from earlier repeated in his head, ‘you guys just need to fuck it out.’ Worth a shot, hate sex was always the best anyways, scanning your body his lips pulled into a smirk, not the normal look of distain you’re used to seeing on his face.

“And if i said i hate your ‘picture perfect lips’ on mine?” He asked quoting part of an article about you. Little did he know you had the same idea as he did. And that’s how you both ended up in his hotel room clothes thrown carelessly, his kiss was all teeth as your nails dug into his back. Moaning his name when he bit the soft spot on your neck leaving a mark. The noise making him grind harder into you.

“That’s it say my name” he panted against your neck, no amount of pleasure would be enough to not take that shot. “Don’t hate the way i say your name now do you.”

“Y/n so glad you made it!” Daniel shouted informing the other drivers of your arrival, Daniel threw parties after every Australian Grand Prix it always ended with the drivers way to wasted to leave so it turned into a sleep over really. And now almost all twenty drivers were spread around Dans house, you were leaned up ageant the wall separating the kitchen and living room laughing as Daniel tried to convince everyone to do a shoey, you tensed up feeling someone breathing on your neck.

“Someone has been a bad girl.” Pierre hummed, you scoffed not answering. Since that night in the elevator you had both had a enemies with benefits situation, now pissing each other off was almost forplay. “Oh not talking? You had a lot to say earlier.” By earlier he means the grill the grid video of who’s most likely, and beacause you were the only woman you got the question who you were most likely to date, all the boys laughed some raising their hand to volunteer. Unknowing pissing Pierre off for a reason he didn’t know, but not more than your following words did.

“Charles probably.” Throwing him a wink for extra effect. “What not me?” He couldn’t stop himself from asking.  Leaning over to look him in the eye seeing the same challenging look he gave you when he snarked off. “If I could I’d cut the breaks on your car.” You deadpanned, luckily for you F1 edited that part out, but you still got scolded.

You dont know when or how it happened but suddenly your enemies to benefits changed a bit, you still got on each other nerves but now that’s not all of your conversations. He learned you had a soft spot for puppies and now always sends you pictures of cute ones he sees on his runs, or how you learned to tell when he got homesick and you found yourself cursing in your head walking out of a small French bakery you found in Canada and bringing him fresh croissant.

He didnt let you leave after you dropped those off instead showing you how much he appreciated it and fed them to you in bed the next morning, that was the first time you stayed through the night.

things shifted then and now instead of sneaking out in the night you woke up to Pierres arms wrapped around you more often than not, when you tried to sneak out fearing what this meant he mumbled still half asleep pulling you in, “Don’t leave.”   you hate the way you can’t help but stay all night.

“Seriously mate you won’t even look at her, i know you guys have that love hate relationship but come on.” Charles scolded, when Pierres head dipped the second you walked through the doors of the bar the crew and drivers practically took over. Smile still shining from your podium today, he wondered if he could taste the champagne on your skin you were sprayed with if he just got close enough. He shook his head, looking from you to his best friend. “You’ve got it all wrong, if i look to long i’ll never look away.”

“Let me take you to dinner.” Pierre whispered not to disturb the soft air the room held laying on his side with his head propped on his hand eyes set on you.

“I dont do dates.” Was your response everytime he tried. He was getting a little sick of it. Everyone has noticed you weren’t at each other’s throats anymore but you refused to give up.

One night after to many drinks and sweet caresses he pulled the true reason out of you, you were hurt by your ex and refused to try again how you never gave up in racing but did in love confused and hurt him equally.

“And what do you call what we do?” He asked genuinely curious, he’s tried to get a label out of you for months and you always ran away. “Give me a chance to save you from your past.” He practically begged, grabbed your hand in his when you pulled away and started to find your clothes. “Babe I wasn’t praying for a saving grace,” unfolding your fingers “let’s go back to nothing.” Were your last words before going out the door.  

Finally summer break hit normally you’d be climbing the walls to get back to driving but not driving means not seeing Pierre, which you haven’t since you left him in his hotel room. You didnt know why you were upset its what you wanted no strings, how did your biggest enemy become something different.

Sasha had noticed your down behavior and you spilled the beans, surprisingly making her laugh. “I’m spilling my heart out and you’re laughing!”

“Sorry sorry just Miss, i hate Pierre and i’ll never date a driver is talking about said driver like its a love song.” And she was right. you hate the way you say words you laughed at before

Two races passed the break and you refused to speak to him despite his unwavering attempts, he was furious that you could just turn your shoulder and act like he wasn’t there after everything he thought meant something between you two, but that didn’t stop his heart from stopping at the news coming over the radio.

He slowed his car and weaved the spun out Redbull as a McLaren practically shoved it purposely off the track into the gravel making it flip into the barrier landing upside down. “Who was it?” He asked when they called red flag immediately after. “Y/n.”

His lost all the air in his lungs when he heard your name, flashes of every life threatening crash going through his head but picturing it being you made him spin his Alpha Tauri and weave between the oncoming cars back to the crash.

‘No no no’ Speaking to himself a he saw smoke. “Pierre safty car is in route please get back to the paddock.” Ignoring his radio he jumped out of the car and ran to your flipped one.

“Y/n!” He yelled crawling under your car seeing you handing from your straps. Reaching up to release them and catch you but he gets pulled out by his feet. “Let me fucking go!” He struggled against the marshals holding him back as the medic pulled you out and onto a gurney which he quickly followed to the nearby ambulance not taking no for an answer as he climbed in not leaving your side.

When you woke up he was still there not even leaving to change out of his suit. “Y/n.” He sighed in relief, pressing his forehead against yours, after explaining what happened you were more worried about him than yourself. “You shouldn’t have done that you’re going to be in so much trouble.” He just fondly shook his head.

“All i was thinking about was you, all i ever think about is you, my thoughts aren’t mine now their yours.”

Your phone dinged for the tenth time since you and Charlotte left the boys at the villa, making her laugh. “He’s smitten its so cute,” she awed. You sighed checking your phone seeing two selfies he sent one smiling with the text. “My face when i think of you’ and the next him pouting. ‘When i realize you’re not here’ Texting back,

‘I just left you can’t miss me already’                        

     ‘I do, do you not miss me?’

‘No’                                                                          

‘You think you cool when you pretend I’m not always in your head’    

‘You’re not.’                                                                              

‘Don’t lie.’

‘Maybe a little’

One lost seat. One elevator ride and a wild night. One season, and One new world champion later, your championship trophy sat centered on your kitchen island as you longingly stared at it still not believing you actually won it and made history. Pierre snuck a picture and posted it to Instagram with the caption. ‘She won the championship but she’s in my kitchen, who’s the real winner’

Pierre slid in behind you wrapping his arms around your waist, “I Remember when you looked at me like that.” He joked making you pull you attention away from the trophy and spin to face him. “Please i never looked at you like that.” You teased making him dramatically clutch his chest over his heart.

“Go ahead give the award your heart!” His eyes lighting up at your giggles pulling him back towards you by the collar of his shirt brushing your nose against his. “You know my heart isn’t mine now its yours.”

Hope you guys liked it let me know what you thought dont forget to check out the F1 romance trope series  coming out next sunday!!!!

F1 tag list @coffeehurricanes

[chelleztjs18]

Villain (W.M)

Wanda Maximoff x Avengers!Fem!Reader.

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Avengers!Fem!Reader. Platonic with other Avengers.

Summary: Wanda has to keep her promise no matter how much she hates it.

Warning: Angst, swearing words.

A/n: This is for THBB drabble Wednesday with a prompt "I think that's the hardest part for me...knowing you're not the villain of my story." Thank you @stonemaxx for the idea. Happy reading!

“Y/n! Please stop! Don’t let them control you!” Wanda tries to bring yourself back from the HYDRA influence in your mind while throwing small weak energy balls at you to stop you. She doesn’t want to hurt you, she never would. She loves you. You hit her hard enough that sent her to quite a distance.

Clint and Natasha hit you again and again but you manage to hit them back. You swept Natasha's feet and she fell on her back. You throw Clint to the wall hard and knock him out then you break his bow and arrow with ease. You raise a huge heavy chunk of cement wall with your power, as you are about to smash it to the injured Natasha who lays weakly on the ground, Iron Man shot it with his small missiles and broke it into pieces before it reached to smash her.

Then you walk towards Bucky who is running to your direction to fight you again after getting beaten up by you earlier. Captain America reaches you from the back and choke you with his arm from behind. Bucky hits you straight to your stomach while both of your hands try to loosen the Captain’s chokehold.

Wanda gets up from the ruins your power sent her to. She stands up with a groan of pain as the effect of your attack on her earlier. “Y/n, please. Don’t make me do this. Fight it. You are the only one who can control your own mind.” Once again the brunette witch tries her best to remind you. You look at her as soon as you hear her voice. Your eyes light up with purple color. A bunch of big sharp ice shows up out of nowhere then you throw them at Wanda before you pull Steve from the back and slam him onto the ground. You hit him mercilessly as he tries to cover himself with his shield. It hurts her heart that she can’t see your loving eyes like she always does. You are far under Hydra’s influence and control.

“Fucking hell, y/n! Your girlfriend just talked to you, you better listen to her.” said the Iron Man as he grabs your fist and hits you again. Natasha jumps on your shoulder and tries to wrap you your neck and punch you multiple times. "Come on, y/n. We don't want to fight you. Just knock it off, will you?" said the Russian assassin. Then a metal bar comes out from the ground and you control it to grab her off of you and throw her. It distracts Tony who was about to fight you back and fly to catch her.

“Maximofff, can’t you do the mind thingy with her to bring her mind back so she will stop attacking us? This is getting nowhere.” Tony desperately asks Wanda through the COMM. “I tried but it didn’t work.” Wanda answers as she is busy protecting herself from the ice that nearly kills her a few times. Then she throws her red balls of magic power at you to distract you from fighting Bucky and Steve.

"Then we had no choice Wanda. You have to do it. That's the only solution for this." Steve kicks you to buy himself some time.

All of a sudden the Avengers see that you look angrier as if someone is even controlling your emotion. "Oh shit. That doesn't look good." Natasha comments.

In a flash, your power wraps every single Avengers there including Wanda tightly trying to crush and suffocate them. Everybody floats in the air, groaning in such agony. "Wanda! You have to do it now or we are all dead!" Tony struggles to talk.

"Y/n, would've wanted you to keep your promise to her." Steve encourages her. Wanda is frozen by her memories. A vivid image of you and the sound of your voice when you made her promise. A promise that she will never want to keep. She hated it when you asked her. Now she hates it even more that she has to keep her promise. It hurts and breaks her heart

She is mad at you because you want her to kill you if Hydra ever comes back and controls your mind to be their killing weapon again.

"My work is almost done here after killing every one of you." You said in sinister and laugh maniacally, totally opposite than who you truly are. You would never hurt the Avengers, they are your family and Wanda is your love.

As the air is running low in everybody's lungs, time is ticking. Sadness tore her chest, it felt like a knife to her heart. Despair shredded her heart raw. Tears pooled in her eyes. Her gaze flicks around from the view of dying teammates, you, and the sharp metal on the broken wall.

"I'm sorry, y/n. I'm so sorry." Her voice breaks as she tries to tell you even though she knows you can't hear it. "I'm sorry." Red magic color takes over Wanda's eyes. Red wisps of magic quickly cover you and she uses her power to fight you back. It almost looks like a strong mini explosion that blasts you and throws you straight to the wall.

Your breath hitch as soon as it stabs you through. She heard it and can almost feel what you feel. Your eyes are no longer purple. Everybody falls down after Hydra's influence left your mind.

Wanda gently floats you down onto her lap and she quickly hugs you as if her life depends on it. "Y/n! I'm sorry.. I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry. I had to do this." Your calm eyes colors look at hers. She misses those eyes. It warms and hurts her heart at the same time. She knows she's losing you.

"W-wanda." Her name struggles to escape your lips. "Y/n, I'm so sorry." Her throat thickened with sobs. "It's okay, Wanda." You patch a smile weakly. "I was a villain, you–you did the right thing." You add as you raise your hand and wipe her tears. Her lips quivered.

"I think that's the hardest part for me…knowing you are not the villain of my story." Wanda whispers to you in her cry. "I love you, Wanda." Her green eyes look into your eyes that are slowly turning lifeless, your soul is no longer there at the same time you took your last breath.

Wanda hugs you tight and rocking back and forth while she is sobbing her heart out. Grief and loss tore her into pieces.

You are never a villain to her. You are her love.

a/n: I hope you like it! Reblogs, likes, comments, and feedbacks are always appreciated. Follow me for more! Thanks!

Cheerio!

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[twistedmusings]

How the dorm leaders react when they catch you kissing someone from their dorm [Part 2]

A/N: AND HERE IT IS! Oh my god I still can't believe I managed to get this done! I actually stayed on task! Honestly these three were probably my favourite from the original post, I've had far too much fun writing these bois.

And what can I say? Playfully flirty MC is a good MC u wu

Warnings: Heavy smooching, possessive talk, and the reader just really pushing the dorm leader's buttons~

Part 1 here!

“How dare you...?”

Vil was more than happy to be coming back to Pomefiore with all the stuff that had happened today. Classes were more annoying than usual, he had to chase Leona down to tell him to get his work done and there had been some problems in the modeling studio that caused the lights to be brighter than usual and now he had a headache that only a nap could fix.

Thing was, if he wanted to keep his schedule as tight as possible he would need to stay awake for...another 6 hours.

One good thing was waiting for him though. Rook had greeted him at the entrance and let him know that the Ramshackle prefect was in the dorm today as per his request.

Good.

This would keep him awake. He remembers promising you a lesson in proper skincare in order to remedy whatever you did once you woke up in the morning. Deep in the back of his head he remembers you telling him that you just splash cold water on your face but he preferred to think that you at least put some sort of moisturizer. Maybe.

He rushes to his room to freshen up and makes sure that he has the materials he needs. Vil had decided that his own brand of face cleansing products would be a good start for your skin. The tingles in his fingertips went ignored as he thought of you thinking about him in the morning. It wasn’t that sort of thing at all, he reminded himself. Dorm leaders were supposed to help each other out, despite how often they were at each other’s throats, and he was just fulfilling his role not just as a dorm leader but as a...friend.

Vil takes one last look at the mirror and makes his way down the row of rooms in Pomefiore to reach the Lounge, only to stop when he sees you being pulled into one of the many rooms by what was clearly a Pomefiore’s students hand.

Wait what?

It’s almost alarming how quickly he approaches the door and puts his foot in it, choosing to stay quiet as he sees that the two people in the room didn’t even bother to wonder why the door hadn’t closed all the way. The student was pressing kisses against your lips in small intervals, choosing instead to talk as you run your hands up the expensive purple robe and taking in the little designs.

“I had a new lip scrub I wanted you to try out.”

“Really? Then why aren’t we in the bathroom?"

“That’s rather forward for a dorm leader. Is everyone in Ramshackle this daring?”

Vil couldn’t even pinpoint the student’s name. That was your first offense. The only thing he remembers about him is the man’s caramel brown hair and how it contrasted beautifully against his dark skin. After that, nothing could pop into his head that would make that student even remotely interesting for you to be hanging off of him like that! Of all the people to be with, it just had to be a nameless potato, didn’t it?

The hairs at the back of his head stand up as the potato hands you what he believes to be the best lip scrub in the business, which only makes the alarms in Vil’s head go off even louder. That brand wasn’t even known for doing lip scrubs! In fact, they once put out a three in one shampoo/conditioner and the fact that the student even had that brand in the dorms and you just blatantly accepting it was your second offense.

And as much as he wanted to focus on that being the thing that truly bothered him, he felt the alarms deafening him as he saw the potato’s hands wrap around your waist as he kissed you again, your lips parting to let him inside.

He shouldn’t be looking at this, he should be leaving and just leave you to your own devices. The lesson wasn’t important, you weren’t that important to him--

Amethyst eyes widen when you tilt your head as the student starts kissing down your neck, already choosing one spot to make his own as he licks and nips at the skin while you dig your fingers into his robe.

Vil didn’t really know how to describe the sudden surge of energy that caused him to fling the door open and grab the student by the back of his robe and pull him backwards, eyes glaring at you the entire time as you whisper his name, as if suddenly remembering that you had a previous engagement before this whole ‘sticking your tongue down a Pomefiore student’s throat’’ business.

“Prefect. My room. Now.”

You put your hands up and walk out of the room without looking at him, Vil letting go of the student’s robes and walking out after you. He didn’t even need to tell him that he was in trouble, the student would realize it soon enough once Rook delivered the chores that needed to be done by tonight.

A list only that student would be getting instead of the entire dorm.

Vil closes the door of his room and turns the lock rather harshly, looking back at you sitting at the edge of his bed still staring at the window. You weren’t trying to defend yourself, you weren’t even looking at him.

“I hate to be kept waiting, Prefect. Not just that, it is extremely rude to keep someone waiting just so you can fraternize with someone in my dorm.”

No answer. He grabs his desk chair and sits down so he can face you directly.

“What made you go and pick that potato?”

“Why would that be any of your business Vil-senpai?”

It was very much his business, if you asked him. He would have been okay if it was Epel or even Rook that you had picked to make out with but he wasn’t just going to stand around and watch as one of the student’s whose name he didn’t even know threw all of his work out of the window! So he asked the question again, this time getting a chuckle as an answer which only served to upset him even more.

“Out of anyone in my dorm you could have picked, you had to go with someone who offers you such a low quality brand of lip scrub?”

“That is your problem with this? What he offered me? Me and him just started hanging out, we know nothing about each other! I just wanted to change that.”

His headache was coming back again.

Vil put hard work into everything he did. That was his work ethic and people be damned if they thought it was too much. Maybe they couldn’t handle it but they still respected it, respected his craft and the work he put into it.

So why do you, of all of his recent projects, disrespect him so blatantly?

It was clear you weren’t ready yet, Vil wasn’t done working with you yet. After doing something like this, and right inside his dorm, he knew that you had just taken all of the careful brushes and strokes he had decorated your canvas with…

And burnt it right in front of his eyes.

Which is why he didn’t necessarily feel any guilt when he grabbed your cheeks and pulled his own lipstick out of his back pocket, ignoring your protests.

“Quiet.”

He applies the shade quickly and before you have any chance to protest, pushes his lips against yours.

The kiss is anything but sweet. It’s almost punishing. Vil was reminding you that you were a work in progress. He still had so much left to teach you, so much left to work with you and if you kept rushing things you were going to make him mad. Once he was done with you, you could go about your pitiful little life and kiss whoever you wanted and he wouldn’t even bat an eyelash.

A hand grasps at his wrists as you press his palms on your cheeks, your tongue gently pressing against his lips so you could slip inside--

Nevermind. This sort of impatient kissing would also have to go.

He pulls away and pushes you onto the mattress, your eyes hazy with eagerness and confusion as Vil removes his jacket and gloves and leans down to trap you below him.

“Were you this greedy with him? Did he also get this treatment from you? No, don’t answer. I fear I’ll only get angrier if you do. Now be an obedient little potato and stay still, the first thing I’ll fix is that messy kissing of yours.”

“ :( “

Snacks runs had to be the most annoying and heart pounding of his usual daily life quests. If waking up was a struggle enough, especially when no special loot such as new anime or manga was available, it was hard to complete such basic tasks without some sort of incentive.

Although Idia guessed that not dying of starvation was enough of an incentive.

He walks down the corridor of his own dorm, humming a quiet tune to himself as he looks down at all the snacks he had acquired. Which, score! They even had a limited edition chip flavor that came with the card of one of his favourite idols! It took everything in his power to not just spend all of his money on more than one bag but he had such a good day today that he knew his gacha pull luck just had to be good.

The door to a room behind him opens, Idia quickly picking up his pace and hiding behind a corner as he looks at who it could be. He isn't against anyone in his dorm but...he didn't have the means to engage in any conversation that wasn't about his current FPS game or Gakemo so--

"Thank you for the help! I thought my phone was beyond repair!"

His hands tighten around the chips pressed tight to his chest, eyes wide in surprise as he sees you stepping out of the room.

Of all people...why were you here so late?

The student laughs as he scratches the back of his head, handing you back your phone and looking away.

“No--No problem! I...I honestly didn’t think you would come to me for help. I integrated the newest magical technology on it as well as voice activated features and a--a brand new messaging app that sends messages faster!”

Idia clicked his tongue as he heard the student speak. Look at him showing off. You didn’t know that he was taking advantage of your naive mind! You didn’t know anything about magic so, of course, all those features would sound fancy!

When it was literally taking your phone and just downloading some fancy new apps on it!

Yet there you were, marveling down at it as if you had just gotten the latest version.

Well maybe he shouldn’t complain too much, even from here he could see your smile. A part of him worried that all this luck he was suddenly getting would affect the luck he would get on his chip bag but...you were worth it.

Such a rare event shouldn’t be left unnoticed.

Maybe...maybe if he stayed here you could walk by and he could open up the ‘bumping into each other late at night’ event?

“So how can I repay you? Do you need anything done?”

Idia tunes back into the conversation as he frowns, looking back at the two of you as the student looks at every single corner of the ceiling instead of looking at you.

Payment? The guy had just downloaded a couple of apps that wasn’t good enough reason to offer some sort of payment. He frowns and taps his foot impatiently as the guy stutters out a few excuses before finally giving you an answer.

“A ki--A kiss? Would that be alright?”

The Ignihyde dorm leader almost falls down as he hears that, retreating further into his corner as he glared daggers at the guy who had just dared to ask for such a bold request.

A k--kis--kiss? A kiss...from you?

This guy was starting to piss him off! He should just be content staring at you! You were a SSR character all on your own! That guy should be happy he even got to talk to you at all and shouldn’t ask for more than he was given! He already rolled for such a life changing event why would he even want more!

His eyes soften when he sees you mull it over. It was okay, you could reject him. Such a guy wouldn’t even be worthy of a kiss from you so you so all you had to do was say no! Go on, [Y/N], just reject hi--

Idia can feel his heart breaking as his muscles stop working, dropping all of his stuff on the floor with a thud as the sound echoes. Yet it went ignored, the other two people in the hallway too busy with their own activities.

When...when had you even kissed him? Idia only remembers you putting your phone away and the moment he blinked you had already pressed your lips against that other guy--!

He should be leaving, why isn’t he moving?

The student’s hand goes to your waist as you deepen it, his face turning a deep shade of red as you pull away and tap his lips.

“Was that your first kiss?”

“...y--yes..”

You were smiling and giving him such a rare, almost ultimately rare item and Idia didn’t know how long he could stare until he combusted.

So all he could do was turn around…

And run as fast as he could.

He ignored the familiar voice calling out his name, footsteps quickly following him as he started to run out of breath.

Making a poor otaku like him run, even now you were still being so cruel to him!

Idia’s door slides open as he bursts inside, ready to bury himself in his bed and never come out again--!

Only to stop when he hears you hiss in pain.

Blue eyes turn around to see your foot jammed into his doorway, not allowing the electric door to slide closed. A part of him wants to immediately go to you and ask if you were alright but he stops himself as the image of your kiss flashes through his mind again.

“[Y/N]-shi! W--What--!”

You rub at your foot and sigh, walking in with a confused look as Idia presses his back against his bookshelf. He knew it. If a SSR character could be brought to real life, this is the sort of power they would have over him.

The kind of aura you were emitting was enough for him to want to get on his knees, but he chose to remain strong.

“I was calling out to you…didn’t you hear me?”

Idia turns his head and looks at the floor, the pain still raw and emotionally taxing than what he was used to. Disappointment was one thing but heartbreak was a complete other monster!

“Shouldn’t--Shouldn’t you be with your boyfriend?”

He spits the word out, annoyed that a guy from his dorm could unlock...no...could get someone like you. You were open to every single activity Idia gave you, you gave him good feedback and didn’t get scared when you two disagreed on something. Every manga he gave you, you read and every anime he told you to watch, you would watch it.

You were receptive, you were attentive, you were what Idia wanted in a real life friend!

He hadn’t dared hope for more!

That still didn’t mean he couldn’t fantasize when he was all by himself.

“Boyfriend…?”

You tilt your head in confusion before chuckling as you realized what had happened.

“Oh so you saw that.”

Is that all you were going to say?! You had just taken his heart and crushed it into tiny little pieces and you were just going to talk about what a pervert he was being!

Someone just KO him now, like right now!

“Yes...I saw. So what? You were just ki-kissi--doing that thing from everyone to see! So you should just go back to him instead of bullying me in my own room!”

Please just leave, he wanted to cry in peace.

Yet you stubbornly remain, just like the first time he met you.

“Idia I don’t know what crazy assumptions you are making but that guy isn’t my boyfriend.”

You put up one finger.

“He fixed my phone…”

Another one follows after.

“And he asked for a kiss for payment. Simple as that. You shouldn’t act like you caught us doing something major. It was just a kis---”

Large hands land on your shoulders as Idia now stands in front of you, head hung low as he mutters something to himself.

“Just a kiss….just a kiss.”

You jump as he gets close to your face, eyes staring at you pleadingly as he cupped your face.

“JUST A KISS? DO YOU EVEN KNOW WHAT YOU ARE? AN EXTRA RARE CHARACTER SUCH AS YOURSELF SHOULDN’T BE GIVING OUT SUCH RARE ITEMS LIKE THAT!”

He shakes you back and forth.

“IF YOUR KISS WAS JUST NORMAL THEN EVEN I...I COULD--”

Idia’s eyes fall on your lips, the rush of adrenaline mixed in with his built up desire for you all culminating in two choices popping up in his head. And for the first time, he knew that hesitation was not an option.

So he dives in.

His lips met yours roughly, not really moving them or anything but just pressing them against you. You put your hands gently on his chest but he takes it as a protest, which only causes him to push them onto yours even more.

This was...disastrous.

He had never kissed anyone before. How in the world did he think that he would be able to kiss you? Ah, maybe this was a dream? Right! He had just dreamed all of this up and you didn’t really force your way into his room to confront him!

His hair flares up when you cup his face, pushing him away slightly and tilting him in such a way that your lips would meet in a much softer fashion. He looks down and sees you closing your eyes, following in your footsteps and melting inside your kiss.

You both pull away slowly, Idia opening his eyes and blushing when he sees you licking your lips and sending him a teasing grin.

A rare sight...made only for him.

“I feel like I just spent all my stamina on this one event...so I don’t want to go unrewarded. Can we go further? I want to go further. What option do I have to pick for you to do that again, [Y/N]?”

“Don’t touch them.”

“YOUNG MASTER! WHERE ARE YOU!”

Malleus sighs as he looks on at the Diasmonia students gathered around the outskirts of the school, smiling as he sees Sebek directing them each and every way. Sebek really didn’t give up, did he? One of his classes had been canceled and he was eager to see the gargoyles around Ramshackle in a much better light but he figured Sebek would cause up a stir when he didn’t find him in his classroom.

As much as he appreciated him, Sebek didn’t have to walk him to every single class.

He sighs and goes deeper into the woods behind Ramshackle, the small broken path there leading him down a familiar terrain.

This is where he usually walked with you, after all.

Seeing this place in bright light was so very different. Instead of it being illuminated by his lights, the sun peeked out from over the trees and provided a sunny trail instead of the usual moonlight. He took a deep breath as he breathed in the smell of flowers all around, all of them growing wildly around him and defying any human to try and tame them.

His fingers trace some of the thorns he found on some of them, the flowers attracted to his touch and moving closer to his hands as a small vine wrapped around his finger.

All with his magic’s help after all.

This was his safe space. Malleus would come here during his first and second year and lose himself in the wilderness. In here no one would fear him. Here every single thing was responsive to his touches and even dared to touch back. Some of the wild rose bushes also reminded him of him, Malleus adding a bit more thorns around the flowers as in to emulate the very home he missed.

In this lonely place, he flourished.

But it wasn’t so lonely now, was it?

His third year had brought one big surprise. A human. A child of man who did not know who he was or what he was capable of. They looked at him as if he was just any other stranger roaming around their dorm and not the next ruler of the Valley of Thorns.

And Malleus, being the very curious person he is, found himself pulled to your inattentiveness.

He had dropped many hints that he was eager to get to know you more, relishing in the fact that you two were starting to get closer. And while he had hoped to keep his identity a secret a bit longer, he found it almost unbearable for you to not know who he was.

If you were so open with who you were, then he should show you the same kind of respect.

How wonderful that you were now on a first name basis with each other.

Malleus could walk over to Ramshackle dorm now and knock on your door without hesitation, smiling as he sees your excitement at just what places you two would discover in the dead of night.

Bummer you couldn’t be with him now.

He had seen you come out of your dorm and ask Sebek if he needed any help, to which the fae replied rather rudely that no human could ever track down his young master, so he was a bit reluctant to discover any more places without you by his side.

These walks were something you two did together, after all.

So he remained at this spot, touching everything and anything that would strike his fancy while going deeper and deeper into a small clearing you two had found. A large tree decorated its middle, the leaves falling gently upon the ground as the sun shone down on the large pond that provided this part of the forest with the water it needed to balance out the sun’s gentle rays.

“Shhhh, don’t make too much noise.”

Malleus stops as he hears your voice, his head immediately turning towards the sound as he hears rustling behind him. He smiles and turns to where he thought you were coming from only to be struck by a sudden idea--and immediately hiding among the trees and bushes so you couldn’t see him.

Would you be surprised to find him here?

He hoped so. Malleus had the habit of appearing to you suddenly so this wouldn’t be breaking any traditions between you two. If he played his cards right, you might join him on a walk all the way to the edge of the island.

“Prefect do you know where you are going?”

“I do! I’ve been here so many times. Now come on!”

Another person’s voice. No...he had heard that voice before.

Malleus retreats back into his hiding spot as he sees you rush by, holding by the hand a Diasmonia student as he rushes to follow you. You smile and turn around, still holding his hand while the other looked on in amazement at where you had led him.

“Prefect...this is…”

“Like it? Me and Malleus found it a while ago. This is how we know we are close to the edge of the forest.”

The Diasmonia dorm leader smiles as he watches you show the student around, pointing out different sights and sounds as the other watched on in amazement. That student probably had never gone anywhere this secret and while Malleus was glad you were showing off the place you two shared…

There was a feeling deep inside his chest that flared up angrily as he caught the student looking at you more than his surroundings.

Green eyes watch as the student’s hand clenches and unclenches, seemingly working up the courage to do something as you continue speaking. Which was rather rude, in Malleus’s opinion. You were explaining some wonderful things about the flora here and he was just staring at you without engaging in the conversation.

And how did you two know each other? Malleus had never mentioned you in Diasmonia except to Silver and Lilia, had he known you before him?

Malleus hands grip the tree bark tighter as the student takes your hand, stopping your explanation as he gets you to focus your attention on him.

What--?

“I’ve been eager to find some time alone with you.”

The student clears his throat before pulling you by the hand gently, your surprised look turning into one of playfulness as you follow along with his movements. He leads you to the edge of the pond, spinning you around as you allow him to position you in such a way that you are now closer to him than before.

Which only makes the angry feeling in Malleus’s gut flare up even more.

“Have you now? What for?”

An answer Malleus wanted to know as well.

Blushing, the student smiles and leads you into a dance with no music which only served to make you laugh and make Malleus’s fingers dig deep into the wood of the poor tree.

In the dragon fae’s eyes, you two are dancing for hours without caring about who was around. Why had he even brought you here? This student was part of Sebek’s surveillance crew and yet here he was not doing his job. But he wasn’t the one who brought you here…

You were.

Your actions were lost on Malleus as the dance finishes up, the student dipping you low before bringing you up.

“So you brought me here to dance? Who knew Diasmonia students were so charming.”

Malleus didn’t like the way you were smiling, nor how your hands rested on the student’s shoulders. He hadn’t seen this side of you before, you were playing along with this student and his motives.

Had you always been so playful? Malleus had only seen you during the night and whenever you two spoke it was a conversation worthy of two friends sharing experiences together.

But not this...never this…

“Well, not just a dance. I’ve wanted to state my intentions outright.”

The tree starts to crack slowly as Malleus can feel more thorns growing out of the rose bushes around him.

“Ever since you arrived, you have been an enigma to me. You are always so helpful even to those who do not seek your aid. Even now, you didn’t have to help me search for our Young Master."

He wasn’t searching for anyone, he was too close to you for Malleus’s liking and he needed to learn how to respect your boundaries.

“Yet you still offered me your help...and I…I want to...”

The student was leaning closer as his hands slid down to your waist, Malleus staring as you started to tilt your head as you placed your hands on his chest while his lips were dead set on meeting yours--!

Your face is tilted up as cold lips meet yours, your mouth opening in a surprised gasp as the hold the student had on you was no longer shy and timid but angry and possessive. These lips were pulling you in closer and closer, greedily eating each and every sound you were making as the air was slowly stolen from your lungs.

A string of saliva is left hanging as you two separate, your eyes fluttering open as you think of something to say to such a ravishing kiss.

Only for them to open wide in surprise as you see who you had really kissed.

“Malleus!?”

You turn to look behind the fae’s back, the Diasmonia student looking at his Young Master in mild panic and surprise while Malleus presses you close against his chest, clearly hiding you from view.

Right before the student even had a chance to taste your lips, Malleus had rushed out of his hiding place and pulled him away by the collar of his shirt.

For a dragon to watch on as something that was his was so close to be taken away, the surprise must have gotten to him.

“Go tell Sebek to head back to Diasmonia and call off his search. I will be there by nightfall.”

The student tries to stutter out a response but Malleus glares back as he keeps you pressed firmly against him.

“Now.”

You watch the student leave in a hurry, following the broken path you had led him in with. Your eyes peek up to look at Malleus but the dorm leader waits until the sound of footsteps is long gone before tilting your face up again and leaning down to press his lips against yours in another rough and dominating kiss.

Hands push you forward as your back collides with the huge tree in the clearing, Malleus making sure that the back of your head meets the bark gently as his lips never parted from yours. You wrap your arms around him as best as you could and let out an involuntary squeak when the fae decides to pick you up so that you could pull him in even closer.

He is the one to pull away first, hands firmly on your bottom as you wrap your legs around his waist to support yourself.

“Malleus--”

The fae presses another kiss to your lips, effectively silencing you so that all your attention would be on him.

“Don’t ever bring someone else into this place, child of man. Do I make myself clear? This place is our haven and I will not have someone else come steal both it and you away from me. Well, even if you don’t understand, I’ll make sure to explain it to you thoroughly. Now...kiss me again.”

[mbluee]

Red - Thirteen x Reader

for @whumptober2021​

No. 3 - STICKS AND STONES MAY BREAK MY BONES BUT…

Taunting | Insults | “Who did this to you?”

Word Count: 4,715

Warnings: blood, lots of blood, injury, near-death(ish), abandonment, so much whump, exhaustion, choking, bit of possessiveness...eek

Summary: The Doctor makes the mistake of leaving you alone, and now she must face the consequences - and so must you. Red is an awful color.

A/N: surprise! i’m doing pieces of whumptober and told no one! yes i do have a schedule!! hahahaa. hahaha. ha. you all know i can’t resist a “who did this to you?’ feat. a pretty blonde time lord. on that note, read it and weep. xoxo

✩✩✩✩

The floor below you is red, and what a pretty shade it is. Deep, glistening, red. Wine stained, rose colored. Red.

Wet, warm.

In a puddle of it beneath you, a puddle of red. How funny. A puddle of a color? Hot, fresh, new. Odd. Pretty, out of context.

Your hands are covered in it, like a paintbrush had been brought across your palms, drawn onto each knuckle. You could see the lines and creases in your skin, each dimple covered in that color. Red. Pools of it in your hands, on your clothes. Oh, not your clothes. What an awful day to wear white. Now it was red, red, all of it, red. Overwhelmingly red.

Surrounding you, red.

Beneath you, red.

The people on the floor are red. They were breathing, once, you think. Not people. Bodies.

Bloody bodies, in pools of blood, beside you, now red.

She said she was coming.

You can’t breathe very well, too caught up in the smell. No one told you blood smells.

Did she leave you behind?

Your feet are entirely numb – they only feel wet. You aren’t wearing shoes, you don’t think; Your socks are drenched. Soaked. White turned red – oh, they’re pink. Pink is a pretty color. Better than red.

She forgot about you.

Your fingertips are wrinkly. Blood was thick. It hung heavy, it weighed down your clothes. Weighed down your heart, submerged your mind. You were under the blood like you were underwater.

She left you alone.

You swallow, your mouth feels full of red. No, not red. Blood.

“She left me alone,” You think you say, but it doesn’t sound like your voice. It’s shattered, garbled. Bloody. Was that you?

Did she leave you alone?

In the sea of red comes lilac. A coat, whipping about the destructive battlefield, contrasting so sharply with the darkness of it that you almost have to close your eyes; Something tells you not to. That color, that presence. The vibrancy of it. Familiar. Safe. Home. You don't process ever saying her name, but when that bright figure whips around to face your crumpled body, you realize that you must have. A plea, a calling.

She said she'd protect you.

There was so much blood.

Her fuzzy figure breaks into a jog, boots thudding quickly across the rivers of red below. Red footprints left in their wake. It makes you sick, and your body aches; It burns red.

The Doctor kneels when she’s close enough. You want to move closer to her, to be comforted by her. She looks warm until you look to her eyes.

"What's wrong? Is this your blood?" She's demanding, her voice dark. Not light, not by any means. The color of blood, of destruction, of a deep and brewing storm. Her eyes weren't red, but they might as well have been. She says your name. A hand to your cheek.

"Who did this to you?"

Voice darker, growing bolder. Angrier. Her hand is hard against your skin, and you whimper involuntarily. You need her to be your home, and she was becoming someone you didn't recognize. The rainbows of her personality were replaced by thunder and malice. It scares you.

You startle.

She scares you.

And she stops.

It must be in your eyes, you think, or the way you flinch back at her sharpness and the cut of her touch. Usually so soft, suddenly so tight. You can’t understand it in this state of panic – maybe you would later – but right now it’s unbearable, and you just need her. Not whoever this was. Her.

“I’m sorry,” She says – guilty, regretful. Her hand softens just before it pulls away, and no, no – come back, you need her back, need that softness she just teased you with – and you reach up to grab her only to cry out in pain.

“No, no-“ The Doctor strains, falling to a pile beside you and ruining her clothes. Her knees stained red, palms turned wet. When she swipes the hair from your face, blood is left behind from the floor. You don’t care. You need her.

“I need you,” You say, without thought, automatic. It still isn’t your voice.

“I’m here.”

Her eyes are kind. Not red. Not dark, not hidden with something terrifying like before. Transparent, compassionate, home.

There she was. Your Doctor. Yours.

“Doctor,” You plead, and it is your voice – more than it was before. Bubbly, covered in stress and intensity, but it was yours again. She was yours again. “I can’t move.”

Her hands come to your side only for you to gasp in shock. It burns, sending a jolting snap through you as if her fingers shocked a painful current of electricity through your broken body, and it hurts more than it should because her hands should never cause you such pain. But it burned, and you didn’t want it to, and that fact hurt so bad that you crumble before her. The Doctor’s touch was always safe. She was safe.

But she left you alone.

And just as much as it hurts you, it burns straight through the Time Lord before you. The whirr of her sonic is all you can process through the blinding pain, and she looks at you as though her whole world is falling apart.

There’s a quick and final buzz, the flick of her wrist, and an analysis of results.

“Broken ribs. No open wounds. Oh, sweetheart-“

She catches herself, but still stares at you. Your eyes are weak and blurry when they meet her figure, but she’s so pretty against the backdrop of battle and blood, and she calls you such sweet things. Her clothes are ruined, her shoes red, and you whine without meaning to. Pathetic, maybe, but all it does is light a furious fire inside of her that you can’t quite see.

Behind that worried and gentle gaze was an impending hurricane; Eyes of lightning, steps of thunder. The Doctor pushed back that anger for your sake.

You were crumpled on the bloodied floor, and she had been ready to ravage galaxies to find you.

“I’m okay,” You tell her, trying to reassure the worried edge that covered her face with lines and regret. Your hand lifts, however slow, to touch her cheek. You’re lying to her. She knows. Your fingertips leave behind a bloody smear, and it only makes your tears fall faster – proves your false reassurance. “You’re here.”

She hushes you, leans into your desperate fingertips. You need to feel her, she needs to feel you. It’s unspoken.

You’re alive.

You found me.

“You’re here,” You repeat quietly, broken. “Don’t… Don’t leave me again. I can’t-“

“I won’t. No, never. Couldn’t.”

Each word is punctuated with a touch to your arm, your shoulder, your cheek. She leans forward, kisses your forehead so gently you must see stars. No – galaxies. Not just red. Rainbow.

“We need to move now. I’ll take you home.”

Home. When would she learn?

With her hand to your cheek and her lips to your skin, you were already there.

“Alright, then. Let’s get going. Can you do that for me?”

You could do anything for her, now that she was here. You almost forget about the blood, and so does she.

The Doctor begins pulling you to a stand.

“Slowly, now. That’s good, you’re-“

The words stop in her throat, eyes suddenly flickering down.

The Doctor freezes.

Along your neck are fingerprints. Crescent shaped marks in your skin from filthy nails, purples and blues mixing to ruin your perfect skin. Bruises. Indents. Clashing with your delicacy.

Someone touched you.

Someone who obviously didn’t know who the Doctor was, who didn’t know precisely what she was capable of. Someone who wrapped their fingers around your throat; Someone who left ugly, long-lasting marks. Someone who has just made a very, very bad enemy.

Someone who hurt you.

And her eyes go black.

“Who…” She’s straining, resisting. Body nearly shaking with the rage that suddenly ignites her, softness receding but trying desperately to keep it in place for you. You deserved that. She’d give it to you. “Who did this?”

Her fingers touch your jawline, so carefully trailing to your neck. You flinch back. Why did you do that? It’s her. Yet when The Doctor’s fingertips brush a certain spot on your skin, you cry out and drop your head against her chest before you. It hurts. You know it wasn’t her, but it hurts.

“Tell me,” She says then, tense. Withholding. She speaks through her teeth and forces herself to stay level, though you can feel her heartbeats echo rapidly in her chest. Her fingers are purposely careful against your wounds, yet you can’t help a sob when the memory returns.

His hands had covered your throat, squeezed your windpipe while you tried to scream. It was her name that came from your shrieking lungs, you think, before waking up on a blood covered floor. You needed her. She’d left you alone.

One of her hands is placed on the warmth of your cheek, the other now pressing your face into her chest. Her shirt is wet. No, wait – You were crying. Those were tears, on her shirt, making it wet. Your tears.

“Oh, no,” You say tiredly, mixed with sobs, muffled against her. “I’m sorry.”

You’re slightly delirious; Pained and needy. Her thumb grazes your cheekbone when she pulls you back, sliding across your face gently, keeping you grounded and perhaps doing the same for herself when she looks into your eyes.

“No, not sorry. Never sorry. What are you sorry for?”

You sniff again, louder, and collapse back into her chest. It’s safe there, hidden, and listening to heartbeats was steady in contrast to the terror around you.

“I’m ruining your clothes.”

The darkness in her subsides slightly, looking down at her shirt, looking down at you tucked into her.

“You…” She starts, head tilting almost in confusion before shaking it with a blink. “My clothes?”

“Yeah,” You sigh. Defeated, exhausted. You pull your head back up, straining with how heavy you feel. Your eyes are glued to the mesh of wet drops and splotches on her chest. “Messed it up. I like that shirt.”

“Do you now?” The Doctor responds softly, that sharp edge dissipating, being pushed back for another moment. Simply soft, now. Hard when she needs to be. Never hard with you.

She smiles slightly, just a tiny bit. It’s enough to brighten an entire galaxy.

“Yeah,” You tell her again. “Yeah, nice color.”

“Ah,” She settles on, smile growing. Oh, you liked that. You wanted more of that. “Nothing to worry your pretty little head over. Have got a closet full of them, and it’s certainly bigger on the inside.”

She brings a palm to your cheek, soft as can be. “Besides, you worry about the silliest things.”

You lean into her. She’s still crouched down beside you, knees on the red floor. Red floor. The feeling of dried blood covering your hands returns, and you wished you hadn’t looked down, wished you’d stayed in that moment with her and that beautiful smile. The tears on her shirt were nothing compared to the blood on her boots. You’d clean them, you think. When you got back. And you’d do laundry. Simple, soft, kind, for her. You’d erase this, rid yourself of red.

You hate red.

“Up we go,” The Doctor announces, interrupting your single-colored thoughts and filling them with iridescence. She comes to your side, slides her arm behind your shoulder blades. You lean the rest of your weight into her when she lifts your fragile form, but it still burns, and you still cry out.

The Doctor stays silent, jaw held tight. When she catches a side glance to your crumpled expression, it seems as though she’s going to say something, but she doesn’t.; It’s as though she can’t bear to speak. The hot tears that slide down your freezing face gather at your chin and drop to the red ground. Stop, no. Not red. Bloody. So bloody.

As you move forward, your eyes stay on that blood. It trails across the floor like a devilish painting, like a swift masterpiece made entirely of misery, and you feel suddenly sick. Dizzy. The red room is spinning, and the Doctor tries her best to keep you still. Her tight jaw loosens. If not for anything, just for you.

“Stick with me, alright? Got a ways to go, and I need you present. Let me get you safe.”

But you left me.

It isn’t until she stops, halts both of your moving bodies, that you realize you’d said that aloud. Your one hand is clutching to the fabric on her back. Blue. Such a lovely color.

The Doctor pauses and stares at you, taking the time to think before she speaks. Her face is furrowed, though her eyebrows have slightly risen, eyes scanning over you and looking between yours. Searching you and searching for her words. You’d never known the Doctor to do that.

There’s silence for a moment, a long second of contemplation and pain on both of your parts. Her eyes are reflective as her body stays still. You might’ve mistaken her for a statue, a paragon of grief and yearning, and something else you’re all too afraid to place. She’s as still as the dead that rest on the floor.

“I know,” She murmurs. Simple and with finality. “I know.”

You stare at her, the two of you stuck in red. The blood is tacky beneath your feet. The bodies lay limp, you stand still.

“And I’ll spend the rest of my existence vowing to never do it again.”

Your next breath is shaky. The depth of her words are deeper than the shade of blood staining your world, yet it suddenly feels blue.

“Thank you,” You tell her, because you’ve no idea of what else could suffice. Nothing could, but it’s enough for now.

The Doctor adjusts her hold, bringing her hand down from your shoulder to support your waist instead. She simply looks at you. And that’s enough, too.

Your side is melded into her hold even as you clench through the pain, not caring in the slightest because that pressure reminded you she was here. It was all red, before, but now it was blue, and lilac, and blonde; There was a rainbow on her shirt and the brightest stars in her eyes. When you’d meet her gaze, she’d smile comfortingly, like home, or a window of escape and peace. The blackhole of anger within the Doctor would dissipate slightly.

“Almost back! We’ll turn a corner there, then straight down. TARDIS is hidden in a perfectly-sized closet. Convenient, isn’t it? All spaceships seem to have TARDIS sized closets.”

You trudge forward and focus on her words, calmer than the sea of vicious pain coursing through your poor body. How did it ever get this bad? Tear stained cheeks accompanied only by grief and shock. Had it all hit you, yet? The pain was stark, but the memories were blurry. You remembered them as though it was someone else.

It had been a blast, a bang, a number of rapid shots as bright red beams of light shot through the walls. Silver weapons firing into bodies, causing casualties, missing only you. How had they missed you? Bodies strewn across the floor accompanied by your own, curled up in a ball pathetically and pitifully. What could you do? Could you have saved them, all of them? Could you have been the Doctor?

You tried. Forced yourself up from the floor as it first became bloody, faced the men who burst into the complex and reigned hell upon it’s occupants. You spoke with authority and you spoke like she would. You were the Doctor, you tried to be. And it hadn’t been enough.

“Alright there?” The Doctor asks, and she already knows the answer, but she asks anyway. Maybe a piece of her hopes it’s something it isn’t. When her eyes linger on your neck again, you have to shut your eyes and block the memory. How long did bruises last? Would the divots of fingernails leave scars?

Her hand raises, slowly, you feel it. She places it on your neck and tightens her hold on your waist as best she can without hurting you. It didn’t matter, because everything hurt. She just didn’t want it to be because of her.

“It’s foolish, really,” The Doctor says, suddenly sharp. Your eyes snap open in confusion, but her eyes remain kind as she looks to you. You blink twice and open your mouth to question her, but when she looks back down to your neck, her gaze eclipses into pure, unaltered darkness, and the words stop in your throat. “Did they think they would get away with this?”

You stare at her, her eyes still locked on the damage to your throat, and she doesn’t move an inch. Stopped in this less bloody hallway, the landscape of your pain physically behind you yet still leaving an underlying imprint. You blink, swallow.

“Away with what?”

Her eyes rise slowly, dragging across your injuries, up the span of your open neck with catastrophic analysis. She notes every detail, every prick and every discoloration, and finally reaches your eyes. They’re ruinous. Possessive.

“Laying their hands on you.”

Your lungs constrict suddenly with a tight hitch and the widening of your eyes. You think your heartrate spikes, or maybe it completely stops, or maybe it flies out of your chest. She continues to stare, and you continue to freeze under her glacial expression. There’s a warmth in the hand that wraps protectively around you, so contrasting to her forbidding eyes, so much so that you almost flinch. But you stay still, trying and failing to breathe, and waiting for her next move without knowing what to do with yourself.

She shifts. The hand on your neck comes up, thumb against the front of your chin, fingers beneath your jaw, and she tilts your head to the side in order to scan you further. Her head leans forward slightly in what you assume is a way to find any other points of impact upon your skin, but it only puts her closer to you, warmer against you, breaths on your bruised neck. You freeze entirely, not even taking the time to breathe. What was she doing?

Then she leans in. You can smell her, then, the comfort and warmth and kindness of her entire being overwhelming your senses and replacing the stale stench of blood. Your palms are wet with sweat and that devastatingly red liquid when she moves even closer, and her dark eyes glow. Really, actually, glow.

You feel an exhale against your neck before she presses her lips to that specific spot, and you gasp with a flinch. Her hand on your waist tightens once, a reassurance, and your body feels suddenly light. It’s that feeling when you first wake up after a good night’s sleep, or when you climb into a bath set at the most perfect temperature. It comes from her kiss against your skin. Igniting like a steady fire, a bright glow emitting from where she made contact, and you feel completely light once more just before the feeling dissipates. It’s rejuvenating, or fulfilling. It’s… Regenerative.

You push her away, even with weak arms, and you watch as her glowing yellow eyes recede back to their almost normal hazel. They’re abnormally grave, with an extra feign of confusion. Your hands remain on her upper arms and she keeps her body close to yours.

“Doctor, you shouldn’t have done that,” You almost snap, feeling much more alive what with the very risky regenerative energy that just coursed through you without your permission – without her better judgement. The Doctor shifts, looking between your eyes as if she never even heard you, before something with finality sets into them.

“You’re going back to the TARDIS.”

She steps forward, almost crowding you, hand still supportive on your waist in a now tighter grip. Her head tilts and leans purposely into your space, and when her eyes flicker down to your neck once more, you freeze, and she notices. Her gaze is ruinous when it returns to your own. Protective. No, more than that. Possessive.

“And before that, you’re going to tell me who did this to you.”

You scoff, blinking rapidly in complete shock at her near – no, complete – arrogance, and that twinge of something else you’d very much like to ignore during this inopportune moment. Yet you can’t help but admire her, in some strange way, even through the shock of her slightly pointed words.

You’d be lying if you didn’t admit she was a sight to behold. Emotions that had never been previously directed at you were now in the forefront of her analyzing view, and in the same way that your previous moments were tainted red, her current thoughts seemed to be covered in it. Her words were precise, sharp – not cutting into you, rather – cutting into the idea of anyone ever laying a hand on what was hers. What was hers.

It should scare you.

Up close and personal with the infamous Oncoming Storm, the same hurricane that just pressed a glowing kiss to your damaged skin. So quick to switch between holding the most immense amount of compassion for you, and then lacking any sliver of it for those who even dreamed of harming you.

It should scare you.

But look at her. Rainbow in a stripe across her chest, royal blue fabric clashing with the disgusting and tired red surrounding the two of you. Her boots are perfect for running, her pants held up by bright yellow suspenders, and her smile is like the sweetest sunshine on a particularly rainy day. You’d bask in the sunlight when it came.

For now, you’ll stand in this downpour of her and revel in that instead. Two sides of the same wondrous, unpredictable coin that is the Doctor, these two sides you’ve come to…

Oh. That could be saved for another day. Perhaps it’s simply best to ignore that tug of yearning and let her care for you in the best way she knows how. Defending you, acting as a shield – knowing well that you could stand up for yourself, knowing that you’d probably tried – and dealing her own doses of karma to those who deserved it. No, she didn’t simply interfere with time; The Doctor owned it. She could pretend all she wants about being avoidant, about keeping out of history, but you knew. When something hurt the Doctor – no, when something hurt you – there was no stopping her. It was an inevitable thing. A struck nerve turned vicious.

The nerve was struck, the damage done. So here came the storm.

“I don’t know,” You admit honestly, slightly quietly. Did you wish you knew, or did you wish you’d forget all together? Was the fleeting memory better left blurry? Or would the details help you cope with the truth of it all, and the security of now? “I’m not… I don’t know. He was cruel, and disgusting. His teeth were almost brown when he- he-“

You swallow hard, avoiding the Doctor’s gaze. “When he smiled.”

Your eyes can’t bear to raise and see her reaction, but you feel the grip on your waist tighten until you hitch your breath in pain. Only then does it soften, a thumb running over your side in subtle apology even as fire runs through her veins. Anger so hot that it was palpable. You still didn’t need to look at her to know that she was staring down at you, assessing you, mind running with every possible course of what you’d call vengeance and what she’d call retribution.

The words flow out of you now, unable to stop it when the hazy memory bombards all your previously calming senses. It burns in your throat when you speak. You hope she can’t hear the painful strain, or the clench of your teeth, but you know she does. That’s just something she knows. You.

“I tried to be like… like you,” You stress, body fatigued, worried eyes needing the comfort of the Doctor’s gaze; She was safe, though the current blackhole-like-state of her eyes reflected otherwise. “I tried so hard. So you’d be…” You take a shaky breath with your eyes closed, “So you’d be proud of me.”

You laugh, then, a dangerous thing, an almost angry thing. Pitiful, perhaps, was the better word. Embarrassed, maybe. Your head shakes in frustration. At your own failure.

“But I didn’t do it right, or I’m just not cut out for that certain thing, or they just thought I looked too… pathetic,” You ramble, eyes bouncing about the room now, looking at absolutely anything but her. You don’t know the exact expression that she wears. You worry it may be of pity. “I was alone.”

You feel her inhale take a pause, slightly, barely noticeable. A guilty exhale through frowning lips that follows.

You shift again, not acknowledging the pain of your side, or the pain in your heart. Alone. It left scars a lot deeper than the ones on your skin.

“Doctor, I don’t…“ You take a breath even if you know it won’t help. Your vision becomes fuzzy, like seeing through stained glass, and you realize that it’s the gathering of tears.

You swallow. And you look up at her.

“I don’t know why they didn’t just kill me,” You whisper. The tears brimming at the edge of your eyes simply spill at that sentence, at the assertion that you could be dead. Was it ridiculous, then, to complain about what happened? To complain that you had these bruises, because you had the privilege of being alive while others didn’t?

At least you were away from the bodies, now. But they were left alone instead of you.

The Doctor’s hard eyes soften just slightly. They still hold that impending danger, the oncoming storm you’ve come to know, but it’s gentler. Not pity as you had feared, but compassion. Kindness. Understanding. You revel in it, take that sweetness in while it lasted, appreciate the mercifulness.

But your words hurt her. Your words that told the story of fear and misery, words that told the story of when she couldn’t keep you safe as she always, always promised. You knew it hurt; You saw it in the way she didn’t know whether to step closer to you or back away. Because beneath the tender care was worry, and beneath that worry was pain, and beneath that pain was guilt. Guilt that pooled in the irises of her eyes, that tinted the hazel of them a gloomy blue. Guilt at breaking her promise. Guilt at letting someone do this to you.

“I’ll be okay,” You tell her, because what else could you say? It was true, and it seemed good, and with her by your side it was attainable. Beyond that. It was close. She healed your wounds in ways no one ever could, healed your heart even if she broke it. She fixed her mistakes, she made up for her faults – she cared about you. She cared about you.

And she hadn’t meant to leave you.

You knew that, now. You were reassured of it. The red had blinded you, but with her you could see.

“I’ve been worried about the wrong things,” The Doctor concludes, looking down at you in her arms; Her vengeance pushed away, her vibrance returning to the light. “Been so focused on who hurt you, I wasn’t even considering that you’re hurt.”

You just look at her. You know you don’t have to say anything; She’s chastising herself, replacing her actions to better suit your needs.

“Alright,” She continues, a new sweetness in her eyes, a soothing apology to your pains. “Home, then?”

You nod, and she takes a breath, and you take one too.

She hadn’t meant to leave you.

What had she said before?

I’ll spend the rest of my existence vowing to never do it again.

“Yeah, Doctor,” You say softly, and something about it is rainbow. “Home sounds good.”

[trashywormeateroffics]

The right universe.

Summary: After Y/N's life turns upside down, she's full of grief. Somehow, one day, she manages to travel to the MCU, where she meets her favorite characters, including a certain god who seems willing to establish a friendship with her. Suddenly she's enwrapped in this new world, where everything she loved in a screen is now reality. How will she react? Will she be able to deal with the ghosts that haunt her? Or will she let them consume her? Will she be open to accept the love she is offered? Read to find out!

Read this on AO3! 

Category: F/M.

Relationships: Loki/reader.

Characters: Wanda Maximoff, Pietro Maximoff, Sam Wilson (Marvel), James "Bucky" Barnes, Vision (Marvel), Tony Stark, Natasha Romanov (Marvel), Stephen Strange, Nick Fury, Maria Hill, Bruce Banner, Thor (Marvel), Clint Barton, Steve Rogers, Peter Parker, other minor appearances of other characters but these are the main ones, Pepper Potts, Loki (Marvel).

Additional tags: Loki/reader - Freeform, Avenger Loki (Marvel), Loki & Tony Stark Friendship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Fluffyfest, Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Pining a lot because we love to suffer, Domestic Avengers, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark is a parental figure, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Everyone is a good bro, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, y/n, After Infinity War but no one died and the purple bitch was defeated, Missions, Y/N is a universe traveller, Grief, Therapy, Protective Loki (Marvel), Loki in love.

MASTERLIST OF THE STORY

Chapter 20: Under attack. 

The next few days, Loki avoided her. Everytime she tried to speak to him he quickly left, mumbling an excuse under his breath. She had tried at least seven times to say something to him, anything, but was starting to feel hopeless. Was he so regretful about kissing her that he despised her now? Was she that bad of a kisser?

“Y/N, are you listening?” Steve asked and the whole meeting room of avengers, except for Loki, turned to look at her.

“Y-yes.”

“So you agree?”

“With what exactly? I agree with many things you said Cap, you are a very easy-to-agree-with man.” He looked at her, with that scolding face he did when he was trying to say “Come on”.

“About you being ready for your first mission.”

“Really?!” Y/N said, excited. “Yeah! I agree, I agree a hundred percent!”

“Good then-”

“She is not ready.” Loki spoke and she looked at him, frowning.

“What are you talking about Loki?” Steve asked him.

“She might be ready with hand to hand combat,” he said, looking at Steve, “but she has not mastered the skill of controlling her magic enough to go on a mission.”

“Y/N?” The soldier said, looking at her.

“I have! I've gotten so much better-”

“Better,” the god said, now looking at her, “is not enough.” She felt her heart break in a million pieces. Out of all people, she never thought Loki would be the one to not trust her, to say that she wasn't enough. “She should not go.” And seeing that Steve still wasn't convinced he said: “She will risk your mission.”

“What are you saying? You told me I was almost ready like a month ago!” She felt herself getting angrier now, who did he think he was to say she was gonna risk the mission?

“Y/N, perhaps it's better if you sit this one out, you'll go soon.” The captain said, snapping her out of her murderous thoughts.

After that, they talked a bit more about the mission she was not going to go on while she was burning a hole into Loki's profile. When Steve dismissed everyone, she left fuming to her room, but before she could enter someone called her.

“Y/N!”

“What do you want?” She turned around, anger clear on her face. He lifted his eyebrows in surprise, she had never directed that look towards him.

“I-”

“Why did you do that? I thought you were my friend.”

“I am your friend.”

“Really? Friends don't kiss their friends and then ignore them!” She told him harshly and he swallowed hard. “Oh, you have nothing to say now. Just what I thought…” She said turning around but he grabbed her arm before she could leave.

“Y/N,”

“What? You flirt with me, then kiss me, then ignore me for days on end without an explanation and then you sabotage my chance to go on a mission, which you know I wanted to go on since I arrived here?” She said, frustrated and angry at him. “What is your problem with me? I thought I was your friend, at least-” Before she could finish, he grabbed her by the shoulders and kissed her roughly, but she didn't respond this time. He pulled away and looked at her.

“Y/N, please…” Suddenly a loud alarm started to ring loudly and F.R.I.D.A.Y spoke:

“We are under attack, engaging in emergency protocol.” Neither of them could process anything but when a loud explosion happened in the other end of the hall, Loki used his green magic to transport them outside of the compound, far away from it, in the middle of the woods.

“What are you doing? We need to get back!”

“We are not going there, it was an attack!” He shouted back at her.

“Everyone is there! We need to help them, we don't even know if they are okay!” She said, starting to run towards the compound but he grabbed her by the waist.

“You are not going.”

“Loki, let me go!” She yelled, trying to get away from his hold.

“No.”

“Loki! I swear I will never speak to you again if you don't let me go!” She told him, making him loosen his tight hold on her a bit and breathe in shakily, but he didn't let her go.

“Will you stay if I put you down?”

“No,” she sighed. “But we can go together and stop with this nonsense.”

“Y/N…”

“Loki…”

“Please, I can't lose you. I can't, I can't, I can't…” He kept repeating in her ear.

“Loki, you won't. But I can't lose them either, so please help me help them.” He sighed and put her down. She stayed there, her back facing him, and took a deep breath. “Lets go,” she said without looking at him and started to walk back quickly to the compound. He followed her.

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

In the outskirts of the woods, right next to the building, she found the whole team frantically walking around and making calls. When they saw them, Tony came running to her and hugged her tightly.

“Kid! Where were you? We were attacked.”

“I know,” she said, “a part of my floor was blown up, Loki took me out of there before I got hurt.” The billionaire looked at the god and nodded at him.

“Thank you.” Loki just blinked at him and gave a quick nod.

“What the hell happened?” Y/N asked.

“There's a group we are tracking down, they call themselves The sky breakers.” Nat said, ending a call. “This was probably them.”

“Do we know if they are still inside the building?” Cap asked.

“No, but F.R.I.D.A.Y is doing a check up. She'll let us know in a minute.” The soldier nodded.

“Sam!” Y/N said, kneeling next to her friend, who was bleeding from his leg.

“It's okay, I've had worse.” He said, holding in a whimper. It really hurt.

“Okay tough guy, but that looks like it hurts.” She thought for a moment and her face lit up with an idea. “May I try something? I can't promise it'll work, but it might.”

“Is it a magic thing?” She nodded. “Alright, go ahead. But be careful please.”

“Okay.” She said and rolled up his jeans, making Sam hiss in pain. “Sorry.” She said sheepishly.

She closed her eyes and put her hands on the wound. A white glow started to surround The Falcons leg and everyone turned to look at it. When she pulled away, his leg was healed.

“How did you do that?” Natasha asked.

“I told you, I have gotten better with my magic.” She said, glancing at a guilty looking Loki.

“Well, you are absolutely coming to the next mission.” The redhead told her, smiling.

“Alright, there's no one inside.” Tony said, looking at his tablet. “Let's go.” And one by one, they all entered the compound.

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

This time, Y/N ignored Loki. Whenever he came close to her, she left without even making up an excuse. She was angry and hurt, but mostly confused. Loki on the other end felt terrible. He had tried to mask it, but couldn't anymore when his brother asked him what was going on one day.

“Nothing.”

“Loki,” Thor said, warningly. “What did you do to Lady Y/N to make her so upset?”

“She is not upset.” He said and almost closed the door on the blond's face, but the other one stopped it with his foot.

“If she is not upset then why have you two not been together these past days?”

“Do we have to be always together?!” He asked, raising his voice in annoyance. Thor just looked at him patiently and he sighed. “Fine, she's upset. Rightfully so.” His brother nodded.

“Do you want to tell me about it?” Normally he would have laughed in his face and said no, but this time he was desperate, Y/N was too important for him, much more than his pride. He motioned for him to come in.

“So… I may have kissed her.”

“Brother! That is amazing!”

“Let me finish,” he sighed. “I may have kissed her and then I may have ignored her for days and then because of my own worry I may have sabotaged her chance to go on her first mission and then I-”

“Loki, breathe.” He did.

“I ruined things between us. She has the right to not want to talk to me ever again but… I…”

“You don't want her to stop talking to you.” He said knowingly and his little brother shook his head.

“No.”

“Why did you kiss her?”

“I… I don't know, she was standing there and I couldn't help myself I-”

“Do you care for her, Loki? In that way?” Thor asked, serious. The god breathed in sharply.

“Yes,” he admitted.

“Then you mustn't lose her,” he smiled softly and patted his back. “And you must ask to court her.”

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

He laid on his bed pondering his conversation with Thor. Should he ask to court her? Did he want that? He rolled his eyes at himself. Of course he wanted to court her, but he was too scared that she did not want the same thing, and he did not want to ruin their friendship and he did not, in a billion years, wanted to lose her. Because losing her was the worst thing he could imagine. Closing his eyes, he began to doze off. The last thing on his mind, her beautiful smile.

~taglist~  @mischief2sarawr @midnights-ramblings @mealoncholy-hill

[amatchinwater]

147: “ I can take care of myself just fine.” Stiles/Isaac

Thank you, lovely <3 I hope you like it!!

---

As of late, Isaac has been more open when it comes to matters of the heart. After the ridiculously close call of almost losing Erica and Boyd, he finds keeping things to himself just isn’t the best approach. That is until the wolf realizes his feelings attached themselves to Stiles of all people.

It’s as though Isaac suddenly forgot how to speak. Every time he thinks he’s ready to tell the other boy how he feels, the wolf clams up and tosses a sarcastic remark instead. So he’s resorted to showing and hoping the words come out on their own. Surely the saying ‘actions speak louder than words’ doesn’t exist for no reason. At least, that’s Isaac’s hope.

He’s bought Stiles’ lunch a few times at school. Does his best to help with research even if it’s just supplying the coffee. Isaac will sit near him during pack nights and preens when Stiles falls asleep on him. He doesn’t miss the soft, knowing look from Derek. How his Alpha understands what he’s doing. And when even Scott can’t handle the human’s rambling, Isaac listens intently and with a smile on his face.

So when Isaac found out that Stiles got attacked by the monster of the week, the wolf went straight to his house, dead set on taking care of him. If he had trusted his gut and not his nose, Isaac would’ve been able to protect Stiles. Which makes him even angrier than knowing the human was in danger in the first place. And he doesn’t even know what’s wrong!

Crawling through Stiles’ window well after nightfall has never felt both easier and wildly difficult at the same time. Not knowing what he’ll find is just feeding his anxiety. But the heartbeat from inside the room is relatively calm.

So that’s a good sign at least.

Stiles is laying in bed, one purple, swollen ankle propped on a pillow and just a towel wrapped around his waist. He smells frustrated and not in a fun way when he says, “I’m fine, Isaac. Go home,” without so much as looking away from his popcorn ceiling.

Seems and though someone’s pride’s wounded too.

“If you were fine,” the wolf steps closer, trying to ignore the water droplets on the other boy’s chest. The human turns his head to face him. “You’d be lying comfortably. And clothed,” he adds with a grin, showing far too many teeth that even a blind man would see what’s going on. “Not that I mind,” Isaac pushes a little more, digging through the other boy’s dresser. The wolf is smart enough to deduce that it hurts Stiles to stand, so he’ll help out.

That gets Stiles moving. He’s off the bed in a second. The moment his bad foot hits the ground, the teen winces, nearly falling over in his haste to relieve the pressure. But Isaac would never let that happen. Ditching the clothes in his hand, the wolf catches Stiles and helps him back in bed.

“I can take care of myself just fine,” Stiles grumbles, brushing the wolf’s hand off his shoulder.

“I know you can,” Isaac hands him the fresh clothes. “But you don’t have to when I’m here.” The other boy stares at the bundle in his lap before giving the wolf a pointed look. Sighing, Isaac turns around. As much as he’d like to see that, he respects Stiles. “I want to take care of you,” the wolf says softly, turning back around at the cough.

The other boy cards his fingers through his hair avoiding eye contact as his scent spikes with nerves and something sweet. The way Stiles’ heart flutters in his chest gives Isaac hope he never thought he’d have. It gives him the courage to keep going.

The wolf sits on the bed beside Stiles, making sure their arms and thighs touch. “I care about you,” he starts making Stiles snort. Of course he knows that. So Isaac tries a different approach. Grabbing the human’s hand and entwining their fingers, the wolf takes his pain, earning him a gasp. The wolf grins, staring into wide, amber eyes, “I like you, Stiles. Why do you think I do half the things I do?”

“I-I thought it’s cause we’re pack.” Stiles’ heart is all over the place, but his scent is so fucking happy. “You like me? Me?” The wolf bites his lip, nodding as he moves a fraction of an inch closer, ready to pounce at the given word.

Then something he’s only dreamed of happens. The wolf suddenly has a lap full of Stiles, limbs flailing and lips pressing to his. Isaac truthfully forgets how to breathe, his body moving on its own to catch the other boy and return the kiss. Thank you werewolf reflexes.

“I thought Erica was just fucking with me,” Stiles murmurs against his mouth.

Wait, “what?” Isaac pulls back, quirking a brow.

He can’t help the rumble in his chest when Stiles runs his fingers through his curls. “She might have mentioned once or twice that you have feelings for me.” The other boy gives a half shrug, “thought she was just teasing me because she knew I liked you.”

Isaac brushes their noses together, “she wasn’t. Not even close. Would-” he takes a deep breath. Having lost his nerve all over again from a kiss that liquified his brain cells. “Would you want to go on a date with me?” His wolf wants to claim, but Stiles is hurt and human. He doesn’t want to be too much too soon.

“Too scared to ask me to be your boyfriend, Lahey?” Stiles grins, playfully poking his chest.

“Would you want that?” Isaac asks incredulously.

That human’s grin widens as he wiggles in his lap, “ask and find out.”

“Will you be my boyfriend?” Isaac asks, blushing with a shy smile.

“You bet your ass I will,” Stiles wraps his arms around the wolf’s neck and Isaac seals their mouths together again. Whispering something about a date when his ankle is better.