#this was a blast to draw especially the way he smothers into them

[nibbelraz]

SVSSSAction prompt for thekeyholder91

Tiny Shang Qinghua taking a nap on Mobei Jun's comfy pillows 🤤

[not-me-simping-for-blasty]

I Melt With You - Bakugou Katsuki

All Parts:

Part 9:

As it turns out, being told there’s an imminent threat on your life, does not lend itself to a relaxing day at work. No, what it lends itself to, is a day of looking over your shoulder, of flipping the lights on in every room- of creeping quietly around furniture, trying to get the jump on whoever is hiding behind it. 

Except, there’s never anyone behind it. There’s never anyone behind anything, and all you have to show for it is a heart beating far too fast. All you have is a ribcage, strung together with dental floss, little bits of string pulled much too far and much too tight. What’s left is a person one surprise from a panic attack, and one loud noise away from a mental breakdown.

It’s the weirdest anxiety you’ve ever felt; a dripping, acrid, paranoia lining your bones with electricity and your muscles with shock. The strangest part of all though? The way you’re counting the minutes. Watching the seconds pass by with each moment, trying to be patient until you could see Bakugou of all people. 

You’re not sure when you started to associate him with safety, but it’s almost a lost cause at this point. His attitude was pretty much irrelevant to the issue, and even if he wasn’t very soft or reassuring, you know he’d rather die than let you get taken. His ego just wouldn’t allow it, and for some odd reason, you think that’s the most comforting part of all.

You walk out the backdoor, dragging your feet and hardly even jumping in surprise when you see him. Bakugou is leaning against the back wall of the alley, disinterest coloring his face. He’s in his hero gear, but thankfully he’s got his mask in his hands- being unable to fully see his eyes made him much harder to read.

“No bruises, scrapes? Blood?” You ask, looking him up and down twice over. You can’t help yourself as you near, eyes squinting as you study him closely. “No injuries, right?”

“No- ‘m fuckin’ fine. Stop fussing, woman.”

You see the red on his cheeks, just barely for a second, before he’s quickly sliding the mask onto his face. So much for seeing his eyes, then- apparently he wanted to keep you guessing all night. Not that you wouldn’t have been anyway. 

"I'm not- actually, yeah, sorry. Maybe I was fussing a little bit." You laugh under you breath, taking a step back. "It's not my fault though, alright? Usually I only see you when you’re exhausted or bleeding out."

"Yeah, because bein' around ya is fuckin' torture, leech. Why the hell would I see you if I didn't have to?"

You turn, balking at him. Under the glow of the streetlamp, something sly and mischievous lines his smile. You watch him glow for a moment, yellow streetlamp luminescence casting his pale skin in shades of glimmering gold. He’s almost unrecognizable like that, unable to help himself when he shakes his head. 

“I told you, leech.” He laughs. “You’re too easy.”

“No- you’re an asshole. You know that? You have to know that, don’t you?”

“I know.”

“And, what, you’re proud of that?”

He just shrugs, kicking off the wall and brushing past you. His shoulder knocks into yours, and you feel a little unsteady at the impact. Bakugou laughs. Then he picks up speed, walking briskly towards the end of the alley, looking behind him to make sure that you’re following. 

“That’s not an answer, you know.” You say, rolling your eyes. “Not even a little bit of an answer.” 

“Who the fuck said I gotta answer all your questions, hah?” He replies, petulance coloring his words. He turns back to look at you, snapping his fingers to urge you on. “Now c’mon. Faster. Pick up the goddamn pace.”

“Jeez, you’re pushy tonight.”

Bakugou doesn’t answer you, just leading you out of the alley, and into the street. He slows suddenly, falling behind you with watchful eyes scanning every shadow. There’s no one out that night, there almost never is at that time, but Bakugou still seems keen on keeping up his vigilance. Turning back to look at him, you’re almost shocked by the concentration on his face.

It’s a look you’re not especially used to seeing on him. You’d never realized how much time he spent just messing with you, but the foreignness of his expression made that apparent. In that moment, all you can wonder is why villians even bothered in the first place- it was obvious they weren’t going to get away with anything under his watch. Not at least if Bakugou’s fists had something to say about it. 

“You look pretty guard-dog-like back there.” You comment with a coy smile. “Super scary.”

“Shut up.”

 “Mhm, that’s what you always say isn’t it.”

 “Fuck’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, nothing.” You say lightly, spinning to look at him for a moment. He’s confused, head tilted slightly to the side. He looks like a dog all over again and you have to hold back a giggle. “Just means you’re short with me all the time. Well- when you’re not being mean that is.” 

“You pickin’ a fight?”

“No. No. I’m not.” You laugh. “I almost never am, or at least not intentionally. You always think so though.” 

Bakugou speeds up then, his strides matching yours. He’s close then, way closer to you than he’d usually walk. You’re not particularly curious about it, but you’re sure that if you reached out, just barely extended your fingers, you’d brush right up against those giant gauntlets of his. And probably get those same fingers blasted right off- but that’s neither here nor there. 

“You look tired.” He gruffs, changing the subject suddenly. He’s looking away, eyes trained down every dark alley you pass. “You somehow sleep worse than me or somethin’?” 

“No. Just lots of people coming in and out today. Lots of patients to see.” 

“Mhm.” He nods. “Any weird injuries?”

“No? Why?”

He just looks at you then, eyes squinting slightly.

“Oh. Those villians you can’t tell me about. I get it.” You say, and Bakugou nods. “But no. Not that I saw- sorry. Strange influx of elderly people, though. But that’s probably just a coincidence. Probably unrelated.”

“It is.��

“Huh? How would you know?”

“Just do.”

You roll your eyes, huffing. “You suck at explaining things, you know- just like, the worst conversationalist.”

He shrugs again, and at the movement you feel the edge of his gauntlets against your arm. The metal is cold, even through the thin material of your jacket, and you shiver.

“Damn, you really that fuckin’ scared of ‘em?” He scoffs, looking at you a little weirdly. “Chill the hell out, leech. ‘m not after you.” 

“No- it’s not- I’m not scared of them. Well, I am, but not of you. Or them.” You rub at your arms, trying to avoid accidentally elbowing him as he walks next to you. “The metal was just cold. Didn’t expect it, is all.” 

He nods, grunting something under his breath. Then he’s side-eyeing you. For way too long to be normal, even for ordinary person standards. Hardly another breath passes before he smirks, jostling his shoulders and pressing the gauntlet directly into your arm. It hits against your jacket, flooding ice through the material and into your skin.

“It’s cold!” You squeal in surprise, almost stumbling as you pull away. You take another step to the side, just to increase the distance between you and him- just to be safe. “I literally just said that! You’re a dick.” 

Bakugou just smothers his laugh in his shoulder. 

“No! Don’t laugh- what you think this is funny? Huh?”

“Yeah.” He chuckles, trying to get you with the gauntlets once more. You flinch away, which just makes him laugh more. “I do actually.”

“It’s not! It’s cold out, you asshole! Don’t make it any worse!”

He just laughs at you, eyes crinkling around the edges. Bakugou doesn’t laugh much, not around you at least, but now you’re sort of wishing he did. His eyes look a lot brighter when he laughs. Happier.

“Okay, okay, chill out already.” He smirks, shushing you like a child. “Won’t happen again.”

“You sound like you’re lying.”

“Nah. ‘m not.”

“I don’t trust you.” You counter, eyeing him with suspicion. “Not at all.”

He just shrugs, like your answer doesn’t surprise him, nor does it make any sort of difference. You suppose that’s about right. Bakugou pretty much only cared about pushing your buttons- making you feel comfortable wasn’t even a thought in his mind.

“You’re such a baby.” He comments, eyes scanning down another dark alley. “Seriously. ‘s not even that fuckin’ cold outside.”

“Says you.”

“I’m right.”

“You’re not.”

“I am.”

“You’re absolutely not.” Drawing your jacket tighter, you fight the shiver that threatens to crawl up your spine. “You know, for a guy who gets so mad about me “picking fights” all the time, you sure do like to argue a lot. You sure you’re not actually the one picking fights?”

“I don’t gotta pick ‘em, I just finish them.”

There’s no way- there’s no way in hell a fully grown hero, a pro hero just opened his mouth and said that to you. It’s inconcievable, or, it should be, but then you look at Bakugou and the absolute sincerity of his expression.

“You’re a barbarian.” You can’t help but laugh, pinching the bridge of your nose with faux annoyance. “Seriously. I just gagged on all the testosterone in that sentence.” 

“So? ‘s not my fuckin’ problem.” 

“It is. It definitely is.” You tell him, hardly restraining your urge to knock him right off the curb. 

From where he is, walking on the outside of the sidewalk and closest to the road, all it would take is a little nudge- he’s walking so very close to the edge.  But knowing him, Bakugou would probably take you with him. So you refrain, changing the subject instead.

 “So, you see any bad guys yet?”

“Bad guys?” He snorts, eyeing you like you’re stupid. “No. I haven’t seen any villains, yet.” 

“Good, just checking. I don’t actually know what I’d do if you did.”

“You don’t do shit. You stay the hell out of it.”

“Okay, but what if you-”

“No. You run the other direction and go fuckin’ hide. That’s what you do.” He orders, seriousness lining his features. “Don’t go tryin’ anything. You’ll only get in the way, leech.”

A part of you bristles all over at that- at his insistence that you’d be nothing but useless weight in a fight. It makes you uncomfortable because as it stands, he’s right. You’d never be able to hold your own, much less defeat anyone.

You felt weak. Vulnerable.

“Don’t be a goddamn baby. I can see you panicking.” He says, kicking at a rock on the sidewalk. “I told you- ‘m not plannin’ to let any of those fuckers get you. ‘s a hypothetical, so don’t go cryin’ over shit that hasn’t even happened yet.”

“It’s not that.”

“Fuck is it then?”

“It’s just- I was thinking, you know, about what I’d do in a fight.” You start, rubbing at your elbow mindlessly. “And you’re right. I’d be entirely useless. I can’t hurt anybody. I don’t think I ever would, even if I had the skills to.”

You hardly see it from the corner of your vision, but Bakugou scrunches his nose. Your words must’ve upset him because then he’s huffing like a bull, curling his fingers closed into a fist.

“Don’t say it like it’s a fuckin’ bad thing. Don’t be an idiot.” He mutters lowly, voice pinched and tight. There’s a flush on his cheeks, just barely visible in the dark. “People getting fuckin’ hurt is never a good thing.”

“No, it’s not. I guess you’re right. But, still, I guess what I’m saying is I wish I was a little less soft, you know? Stronger.”

He cuts his eyes toward you, something guarded lining them. You can hardly tell, and you wish he’d take his mask off, but Bakugou almost looks..... offended?

“Bein’ soft doesn’t mean you’re fuckin’ weak.”

“You’ve literally called me weak before!” 

“Yeah- when you were playin’ all fuckin’ nice when you didn’t mean it.” He flares his nostrils. “That’s weak.” 

“Oh, so you’re saying- actually, no, I have no idea what point you’re trying to get at right now.”

“Jesus, you’re stupid.” He mutters on his breath. “I’m saying, don’t do shit just because you think you have to. That’s stupid. That’s weak.”

“So you’re saying I shouldn’t fight anybody?”

“Do you want to fight anybody?”

“Well, no, but-”

“Then why the hell are we even fuckin’ talking about this?” He asks, simple and plain like it never even mattered to him in the first place. “If you don’t want to fight then don’t fight. It’s that fuckin’ easy.”

“Yeah, but-”

“No buts.” He says, finality lacing his tone. “Besides, it’s not gonna fuckin’ matter anyway. I’ll skin ‘em before they even get anywhere near you.”

Bakugou seems to realize his words- and the weight behind them at the same time you do. Where you’re blushing and looking away, he’s straightening in place next to you. His spine goes ramrod, feet stuttering like the pavement is shooting electric shocks through his heels. 

“That’s- I think that’s the only sort of nice thing you’ve ever said to me.” You utter out, entirely shocked. Then you’re slapping a hand against your mouth, breathing a gasp out between the gaps in your fingers. “That’s- that’s the only nice thing I get? A threat against somebody else? That’s ridiculous!”  

You can’t help the giggle that tumbles out of your mouth then, something small and tiny quickly growing louder. It makes you feel light- weightless on the street, like the pavement below you is bolstering you higher with each step. When you look over, Bakugou’s not laughing, but he’s smiling, something pinched and shy as he looks back at you. A he stares at you, blinking slowly, tipping his head to the side like he doesn’t understand.

“It’s- I’m sorry.” You laugh, biting down on your lip. “It’s just so funny! You being nice isn’t even you being nice- it’s just you being mean to somebody else for once!” 

“If this is what you’re like when I’m fuckin’ nice, then I’ll never be nice to you again.” 

“Don’t grumble.” You smile, trying to cover your smile with an errant palm. “Even if I’m laughing, I’m not necassarily laughing at you, you know? I guess what I”m saying is that it helps with the panic- to know that somebody capable is looking out for me, you know?”

“Yeah, I bet.”

His tone leaves something sour, sarcasm and cynicism left behind on his breath. You look over at him, but his eyes are trained forward, shooting between every dark crevice and shadow. He’s relentless, shoulders constantly drawn forward, stalking and prowling like he’s just waiting for somebody to challenge him.

It makes you wonder who’s looking out for him. If anybody even is- or, more specifically, if he is letting anyone.

“Hey, Bakugou?” You ask suddenly. 

“What?”

“I appreciate it, you know. This. You walking me home.” You find yourself unable to hold his intense gaze any longer. Eyes trained at the ground, you continue. “I know you didn’t have to, and even if it’s not for me, it still makes me feel a lot better. Less scared. So thank you.” 

He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t really even react other than straightening a little beside you. It makes you want to take the words back, to fluster, make excuses maybe- but you don’t. You steel yourself and you don’t apologize because you meant it. Meant every word.

“Jesus, you really are soft, huh.” He mutters quietly, voice hardly carrying through the cold air. “Really fuckin’ soft.”

“Yeah. I am.”

He doesn’t say anything else, but he does walk a little closer. From where he is, right up next to you, Bakugou looks a lot different. It might just be the low light, but you could’ve sworn he was all soft angles then; all smooth skin covering a gently sloping nose, delicate lips curled up into the smallest of smiles. You think he’s beautiful then- like somehow, all of his blistering strength had gone molten instead of igniting. 

There’s not much left to say, and you’re out of jokes, so the rest of your walk is spent in silence. It’s a weird kind of quiet, something that sits heavy in your chest, warm and fluid- almost like it’s lulling you to sleep. There’s still a little anxiety rolling in your stomach, but that’s softened now too. You’re sure Bakugou would laugh at you if you told him, but he really did make you feel safe. If only in an belligerent and begrudging sort of way on his end. 

Another few minutes pass and you’re at the entrance to your apartment building. He hovers close behind you as you swipe your keycard, eyes watching the same way they’d done all night. He really is diligent when he wants to be apparently.

“Are you coming in?” You ask, lingering in the door way.

“Nah. I’m on patrol for a few more hours.”  

“Oh- yeah, okay, that makes sense.”

“You scared or somethin’?” He asks, squinting at you. “Go inside already.” 

You curl your fingers a little tighter around the handle, shifting your weight onto your other foot. It frustrates you a little- how he seems to see right through you when you can hardly ever tell what he’s thinking. 

“No- well, yes, but I get it, you’ve got other priorities.” You say, gently. “Go, I’ll be fine. Don’t let my weird paranoia hold you up or anything.” 

He just nods, adjusting the mask on his face as he turns away. Bakugou only makes it a few steps, just barely secluded into the shadows beyond the complex lights, before he’s turning around. Hand itching at the back of his neck, he plants his feet, regarding you with familiar red eyes.

“It’s not weird.” He says. “I’ll be back later. Don’t do anything fuckin’ stupid while I’m gone.” 

Then he’s turning around before you can say anything, his dark costume melting into the shadows. The air somehow feels colder when he leaves, empty almost, and you rush into your apartment complex as a result.

When you’re finally unlocking your door, and quickly relocking it behind you, the exhaustion nearly bulldozes you. You’d been so careful that day, not using your quirk just like Bakugou had advised, but in the end you figured it didn’t really matter- you were scared, absolutely terrified about some villian it didn’t seem like you could even prepare for. That would make anyone tired, weird quirk or not.

Collapsing on your couch with a sigh, you can’t help yourself as sleep quickly takes over.

--/--

You’re jolted awake by the sound of knocking, and, even in your sleep-drunk haze, you know who it is. You’d never known anyone else in your entire life who knocked as loudly as he did. It was like miniature bombs were going off against the glass. 

Bakugou is standing outside in normal clothes, thankfully shucked of both his hero costume and mask. He’s clad in sweatpants and a t-shirt, tapping his foot impatiently as you approach the door. You wonder how he’s not cold, how in the world he’s not freezing his ass off out there. You’d ask, but the exhaustion is still creeping in, piloting your body with hardly a quarter of as much energy as you would normally have.

“You look tired.” He says, taking in your appearance when you slide open the door. He lets himself in, brushing past you when you apparently take too long. “You fall asleep or somethin’?”

“Yeah- yeah, I did, sorry.” You yawn, rubbing away the sleep in your eyes. “Couldn’t help it. Was tired.”

“Oh.”

Bakugou seems a little stilted, hardly even looking at you, and when he does, it’s with a flush on his face. You just shrug his weird behavior off, not having the energy to ask nor the care to even remotely get to the bottom of it. As it was- you were dead tired. His weird mood wasn’t going to trump that apparently.

“You all good?” You yawn again into your hand, then stretch your arms high above your head. “No injuries or anything?”

“Nope.”

“Oh. Okay. That’s good. That’s good.” You trail off, turning away from him to gather your purse and coat off of the couch. “How was it?”

“I didn’t find them yet. If that’s what you’re asking.”

“No- well, that’s sorta- but not really.” You’re fluffing the pillows for him before you realize, gathering a blanket from where it was tucked away too. “I meant- like, everything go alright? Just general checking up stuff.”

“Why- you decide to care now or somethin’?”

“Don’t be difficult. I care. Wouldn’t- wouldn’t ask if I didn’t care to know the answer.”

“Fine.” He grumbles, cheeks going pink once more. “It was boring. Nobody was out tryin’ to pull anything.” 

“Well, that’s nice to hear, actually.”

You continue making up his pseduo bed, spreading the blanket over your cushions and folding it back neatly. It’s almost subconscious, the way your hands move even through your sleep-fog. Bakugou just watches, looking at you a little strangely. His red eyes flicker from you, to the pseduo-bed you’d made up for him, and then back again several times over. 

On the couch, there’s the normal blanket, but this time you’d also sacrificed one of your real pillows too. You figured that if he was going to go through the hassle of making sure you were safe, then the least you could do was spare him a good pillow. Still, the gesture seemed to stump him, and Bakugou just stared blankly at it. Then his eyes flicker back to you, something unsure in them.

You’re not used to seeing him like that. Apprehensive. Almost timid.

“Hope it’s alright.” You tell him, passing him to flick off the bright overhead light. “Thought it was about time for an upgrade. Take it as a show of my appreciation.” 

“Whatever.” He flusters a bit, but shakes it off quickly. “Glad you finally realized how shitty your throw pillows are.”

“Mhm. Sure.”

“You really that tired?”

“Yeah. Sorry. ‘s pretty hard for me to function after I’ve just woken up. ‘s really embarrassing.” 

“No, it’s-”

Bakugou seems to suddenly seize in place half way through his words, spinning the other direction like someone was puppetting his strings. You really start to wonder what had gotten into him in the few hours since you’d seen him last.

“Well, if that’s all,” You say, hiding another large yawn behind your gloves. Then you’re pulling at the material, freeing one of your hands. “Then I’d really like to go back to sleep. So, c’mon, hand out already, yeah?” 

He nods tightly, his whole face red. He won’t look at you, eyes hardly flickering up to yours for a second before he forces them back down. Another loud yawn escapes you, and that only seems to worsen whatever problem he’s having, because then Bakugou is dragging a hand down his face- stretching and pulling and tugging at heated skin like he’s in physical pain. Still, he holds his hand out anyways, refusing to meet your eyes.

That same subtle warmth floods you again, solid and sure where his hand meets yours. It’s muted now, a little softer, but still there. You’re half asleep, barely functioning, and you absentmindedly rub the back of his hand with you thumb, once, twice, and then pat when you let go.

He just looks at you, absolutely bewildered, and honestly- you’re not sure you have an explanation. There is no explanation. All there is, is your bone-deep exhaustion and the apparently uncharacteristic things it makes you do. Like shushing him when he starts to speak, which only seems to stun him more. Then you’re waving him off,  beginning to walk towards your bedroom without hardly letting him get a reaction in edgewise. You’d apologize, but honestly, you’re sure you’d fall asleep half-way through the words. 

“Goodnight.” You say absentmindedly, head lolling over your shoulder to look back at him. “Have a good sleep or whatever. See you tomorrow.”

Then you’re stumbling down the hall, just barely remembering to flick off the overhead lights. You hit the bed, flopping down boneless and sated. 

You’re sure it must take all over 10 seconds until you’re out again. Maybe even less than that.

--

hope u enjoy lovelies :)))

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[mefiman]

Hamato Family’s First Visit to the Hidden City

Story request by @rottmntrulesall. Hope you enjoy the story, bud! ^^

"C'mon, everyone! Hurry up!" Michelangelo's impatience was obvious in his excitement. He and his siblings were finally going to show their dad's relatives for the first time to the Hidden City for two reasons; one: to view the many wonders of the other world and two: to have a formal, proper meeting with Draxum's parents. The latter part had instilled some unease into the Hamato siblings, especially Saki who was wary about stepping foot into a mysterious world and was about to see for himself the father and mother of the "monster" who altered his younger brother many years ago.

"Are you sure this place is safe?" Hamato Kenji asked. Raphael glanced at his uncle, understanding his uncle's concerns. "We've been there a lot, Uncle Kenji! We did encounter a few dangers there before but other than that, the people there don't usually attack humans unless provoked." Raph assured his uncle.

"There are a lot of places to visit like the many resorts and spas if you want to have a massage and ooh, Señor Hueso's Run of the Mill Pizza where they make one of the best pizzas! I know the manager of that place, we're amigos~" Leonardo took the chance to quip in.

"I can't wait to see Grandpa Mons again! Wait till you guys meet him yourselves, he's the nicest, sweetest grandpa you'll ever meet! He's still as strong as he's gentle!" Mikey said happily.

"I wonder if Grandma Chemia has some wicked new inventions to show me!" Donatello exclaimed.

"This would be my first time seeing my grandparents, Arachne..." Ariadne whispered to her best friend, Arachne.

"You've never seen them before?" Her friend asked.

"Once when I was a baby... I haven't seen them for years." The yokai femme told Arachne.

"Alright, kids, you've shown us all that you're excited to bring us to visit the Hidden City, Mikey, can you open the portal now?" Splinter asked.

"Sure, Dad!" Mikey got to work quickly.

Draxum felt a tinge of anxiety inside himself. He could not recall the last time he visited his creators ever since he moved out of home to pursue his alchemy researching, away from his parents' constant arguments, half of which is about their preferred methods of raising him. It was a surprise how those two still manage to live under the same roof despite their obvious clashing personalities. He guessed that they tolerated each other just for his sake. His parents had never produced any more offspring after him and one of Arachne’s parents...

"Hey, are you okay, Dad?" A female voice asked him. Draxum jolted from his pondering to find that his daughter, Poison Ivy asking him out of concern. He just gave a small smile as he ran his clawed hands over her helmet. "Am fine, just thinking about your grandparents." He assured her. He marveled how Ivy much had grown from the last time he scientifically created her with his and Lou Jitsu's DNAs; she being so tiny as a developed newborn infant growing in a liquid chamber to a young lady around the boys' ages. From what he knew later on, Splinter raised her along with the Turtles. Ivy had lived her life at first as a normal human teenager until her yokai genes started appearing. The initial discovery of her origins did shake her world but over time, she had learnt to accept and use them to assist her brothers in their adventures. She was intelligent like Draxum and his mother with his father's gentle, mature nature as well as Splinter/Lou's sassiness. She loved to study on botany and coincidently, her powers involved using vines and summoning plant like monsters at will. She recently revealed her sexuality preference as a lesbian and had a girlfriend who is a fellow classmate and witch trainee/apprentice in disguise. Both her creators and siblings were happy for her. As of now, she was cradling her younger sister, Venus de Milo was giggling and squealing as April, Ariadne and Arachne cooed and tickled her belly.

The group watched Mikey draw a symbol on the wall at an alley. Once the symbol was drawn, an open portal revealed. The Hamato siblings' mouths went ajar, not believing what they just saw. "if you think that's mind blowing, you haven't seen nothing yet!" Mikey grinned. His three other brothers and the three girls each took hold of one of their Hamato uncles and aunts's hands. The moment they all jumped into that portal, they found themselves staring at a massive part of a what seemed to be a huge city. The sky above was unlike Earth's skies; instead it was orange with some brown. The architecture of the buildings there were monster shaped with some tall, castle like structures far away from the city. There were a lot of people of all shapes, sizes, colors and appearances walking, running, passing by each other, buying their needs or doing their usual business trades. The Turtle family allowed their Hamato relatives to take in their first view around them. Saki's eyes were bulging out of his sockets, he could not believe for his life what he was seeing. Anthropomorphic, mostly consisting of animal, everyday objects, monstrous and supernatural like individuals roamed every part of the streets around him, he felt as if he was having a strange dream that defied logic! Nori on the other hand, looked right and left, taking in interesting sights that captured her attention. Underneath a calm façade, Kenji was freaking out internally at the new, foreign view. Hiroki was squealing in delight similar to a child had just discovered a world made of toys and sweets. Her twin, Hikari was a bit calmer than his sister, feeling a thrill of danger running through his veins. Last but not least, the youngest Hamato sibling, Mei's stance looked poker face yet she looked around to see if there were any Gothic like people that she can interact with. The Turtles and the girls grinned, seeing the reactions of the others.

"What do you think? Surreal, huh?" They ask.

"Amazing.."

"Fascinating..."

"I can't believe what I'm seeing..."

"Someone please tell me that I'm dreaming..." Saki mumbled, still not believing.

"No, you're not," Draxum replied, going straight to the point with an indifferent expression. "May we please hurry to my parents' house, I bet they're waiting for our arrival..."

"Oh yeah!" Mikey clapped both his hands once. "Lead the way, Draxy!"

Draxum sighed as he took the lead of the group. Along the way, there were a few whispers around and behind Draxum coming from the city people but Splinter and Ivy took hold of both his hands and gave a comforting, assuring squeeze, making him feel better. Ariadne gave her uncle a comforting hand on to his shoulder. They were soon out of the main city square to a further distance into the woods. They had to climb up a hill for a while until they reached a big mansion residing there.

"We are here at last. My childhood home..." Draxum said, looking at the grassy, serene valley below, reminiscing the times where he as a little one ran galloping around the field, cartwheeling with glee among the flowers and his sire teaching him the basics on how to defend himself the predator way. Both father and son spend their days in the early years, sparring with each other...

"Draxum, my son!" The former alchemist warrior villain snapped out of his memories to find himself being engulfed into the arms of none other than his dear, loving old father, Monsrage who brought his only son into a crushing bear hug which knocked the wind out of his lungs. "How have you been, my little baby boy? It's rare that you visit us but it's so wonderful to see you bring your family along! How delightful!" the older yokai gushed, his bushy tail wagging with unlimited enthusiasm like an excited puppy. Monsrage was rather huge and muscular with perked up, pointy ears, silky straight black hair unchanged through time and a fairly long beard to match. Like Draxum before, he wore a battle mask. He had a significant dark upperlip. His body had different shades of blue just like his son, Draxum when he was armored. Monsrage's eyes were the same like Draxum's. His feet in particular, was a noticeable difference. Unlike his wife and son, his feet were shaped like a lion's paws, fitting for him coming from a predator species.

"Father, it's great to see you... but can you please let go now? I can't breathe..." Draxum choked out, being smothered by his sire's busty chest. Monsrage immediately loosened his grip, apologizing profusely while checking to see if he had accidently broken any of his son's bones. Draxum shook his head, smiling a little. His sire had never changed all these years, still a concerned worrywart. And he bet his mother had not either...

Chemia on the other hand, was greeting the rest of the visitors with feverish energy. She was a redhead with shades of pink for her skin colour and her ears, long and drooped. Her eyes had a little twinkle in them, a part of her eccentric personality and plump, red lips. Like her husband, she wore a mask. Donnie, April, Arachne and Ivy were given a whirlwind hug the moment they came in front of her. Monsrage went back to the mansion with his son to give the new visitors, the Hamatos, April, and Arachne a warm greeting as well as welcome his beloved grandchildren with his signature bear hug and proceed to pepper their faces with smooches which they were delighted to have especially Mikey, Ariadne, Ivy and Venus. Monsrage and Chemia ushered them all into their humble abode. The Hamatos were initially skeptical about meeting Draxum's family but they were soon warmed up to them. Later on, the mansion was filled with guffaws of laughter as Monsrage showed them all baby pictures of his son which embarrased the poor warrior scientist. Donnie, April and Ivy were treated to Grandma Chemia's latest creations. Monsrage himself had a blast, playing with Venus and sparring with the Turtles and the girls. Arachne was delighted to meet her grandparents as a young adolescent, telling them about her achievements, adventures and that her own parents are doing well. The Hamatos became comfortable talking with Draxum's parents over some snack delicacies. Overall, everyone had a wonderful time at the Hidden City.

I had fun writing this! Was tiring but oh so worth it.

The Hamato siblings (minus Lou/Splinter) and Venus de Milo belong to @rottmntrulesall while Ariadne and Arachne are the OCs of @mikeykawaii/@mikey-ho. Monsrage, Chemia and Poison Ivy along with the mention of the witch girlfriend belong to me, @mefiman. I hope you don’t mind me incorporating your girls into this story, @mikeykawaii but I’ve been dying to add them in, especially Ari meeting her grandparents! ^^ 

[internalsealpanic]

Bloody Valentine

Summary: There is nothing more romantic than being stuck in an elevator and arguing about terrible life decisions. 

a/n: Blame @littleredwing89 for the existence of this.  This is, as of the time I’m posting this, the 4th part (chronologically) to my Dick Grayson/Merc!Reader series. It might be better for you to read part 1 or part 2 before reading this as the angst might hit harder if you do. 

Warnings:  Mentions of blood and injury. Dick and Reader are both hypocrites with no self preservation. It also gets a little heated(?) in the end but nothing really bad.

Main Masterlist

Dick Grayson Masterlist

Direct Sequel to this: Sweetness 

This was not how you pictured your Valentine’s Day. 

Sure, you weren’t exactly picturing a candle-lit dinner under the stars or slow dancing in the pale moonlight like a Hallmark movie. But you’re not exactly thrilled to be standing outside an emergency room waiting area, clutching an unopened pack of cigarettes and a spare superman shirt, as per the police chief’s suggestion. You tap your foot impatiently as an officer persuades the hospital staff to let you in as you stupidly forgot to bring any of your IDs. The pack of cigarettes crinkles loudly earning you a withering look from a tired-looking mother. 

You take a breath. 

You settle yourself in one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs they point you to. There’s a scream in your throat. And you’re so close to crying. From frustration, anxiety, fatigue? You couldn’t distinguish. 

You flick your eyes to them. Finally, the staff relents and you brush past them brusquely.   

Your thoughts spiral. The bile lingers at the back of your throat. Burning. Acidic. Dick had lost a lot of blood but not fatal, they told you. The sob that left your mouth was inhumane. You’d almost dropped the phone. Static and white noise vibrated through your eardrums. In a trance-like state, you walk towards the room they kept him in, tunnel vision guiding you to his door. That’s what shock does to you. 

All you can think of is him.

You hold the steering wheel in a white-knuckled grip, glaring at Dick through the rearview mirror, more specifically the white hospital issued sling cradling his arm. You watch Dick as he pretends to not notice the look you’re needling him with.  “I spy with my little eye something… green,” he says absentmindedly as he stares out into the flow of traffic. 

You keep your narrowed eyes straight ahead, not even thinking about dignifying his little distraction. Right now, all you were seeing was red. 

To your right, Dick sighs dramatically, running his hand through his black hair. “So you’re just going to ignore me, huh?”

You’re not but you sure are trying. 

Dick as far as you knew was used to silence but he thrived in noise. He lived off of interactions, good or bad. You’re usually an endless supply of banter and playful quips but right now you needed the silence. You needed him to stew in it along with you. This isn’t to say you were particularly ill-tempered or impatient with people, being friends with someone like Dick necessitated a certain level of patience in your opinion.  And sure, you had a sharp tongue but you didn’t lose your temper often. But as you sit there next to him with your teeth grinding, fingers tapping, and muscles clenched, you could feel anger coiling under your skin. 

He lets out another sigh, this time sounding genuinely exasperated. Good. “(y/n), I don’t know why you’re upset by this- I’m a cop. We both know the risks.” 

The coil under your skin burns and you break hard, pointedly ignoring the loud cursing from the driver behind you. Dick chokes and hisses as the seatbelt digs into his chest. You offer him no sympathy or apology as you shoot him such a glare that whatever smartass remark he has for you dies on the tip of his tongue. Considering all the villains and heroes he’s had glaring at him over the years, you consider this an accomplishment. Dick flinches at the intensity of the anger wicking off of you. 

You click your teeth and turn back to the road, seeing the light turn green again. “You were issued a gun for a reason,” you say flatly, opting for this instead of the litany of other ways to say ‘you’re a moron’. You’re polite like that. 

It’s Dick’s turn to level you a look but unlike him, you don’t flinch, too caught up in your own anger. “Well, I assessed the situation-”

“You were wrong.”

“- and thought I could deescalate,” he says scowling at you through the mirror. Hurt flashes behind his eyes.  He looks… like a mix between petulant and offended but you can’t bring yourself to care to do more than give him a withering look, especially not when you still have his bloodied uniform burned into your mind. You admired his determination to keep the peace the way you admired how uncompromising his stance was on second chances. You really did but… It was the second time he nearly died that week and it was just Tuesday. 

You stop again. You close your eyes. Loving someone who could someday not come home to you was not a possibility you had prepared for.  You just- You just weren’t ready to care for someone so… destructible.  You weren’t sure how to process all the anxiety that came with that, so you turned to anger. It just seemed so much more productive and tangible than the shapeless fear anxiety brought you. “And you nearly got shot in the heart,” you deadpan, heart twinging. You taper your emotions down into something more manageable, something easier to compartmentalize. You can tell Dick was going through the same process. Which one of you was having a harder time, you couldn’t tell. 

“He barely grazed me.”

“Correction, you have a hole in your shoulder.” Asshole.  You bite back the insult, trying not to escalate the argument. You click your teeth but try not to clench your jaw or grind your teeth. The first person to lose their temper loses the argument. 

Dick huffs, resting his chin against his uninjured hand. His eyes flicker to you then the window. “I’ve had worse,” he mutters and your stomach tumbles to the ground getting crushed by the tire. Your mind careens. Your lungs fill up with the smell of ash and gun smoke. For a moment, your eyes do not work. For a moment, you’re in a crumbling building. Your eyes watching the billowing smoke curl against the sky. A blast of heat so hot it makes the liquid in your eyes boil breezes past you. 

You feel the flick of Yasiri’s tail on your skin and suddenly your foot is on a gas pedal instead of a broken cement floor. You blink, a tar-like emotion is swimming under your skin. You breathe. You glare at the traffic in front of you if only to focus your vision. “You’re impossible,” you snarl. 

In the corner of your eye, Dick peels away from the window, anger flashing in his easy-going features. He’s brandishing a sneer. You brace yourself. Dick… Dick Grayson was a mean son of a bitch when he wanted to be and he knew too much of your hurts. You swallow, gripping the steering wheel. Yasiri swims on your skin, surfacing just enough to get ready to strike but also just enough to be hidden. 

Dick opens his mouth but no sound comes out. Dick closes his mouth then opens it again and instead of something truly scathing, Dic opts for something more teasing probably realizing that pissing off your driver is a really bad idea. “You say that like you’re any easier to talk to.”

“At least, I know how to listen,” you bite out, voice drawing dangerously low. Dick’s eyes flicker to you, his shoulders bunching up a fraction. You click your teeth and take a calming breath. 

Dick snorts, the knot in his shoulders disappearing. “Yeah, right.”

You bristle. Your fingers drum against the steering wheel contemplating on whether to deck him. You should deck him. You should definitely deck him. Would that open up his stitches? It probably would. You mutter a curse. It feels nice rolling off your tongue and it seems Dick feels the same when he curses in Romani. You catalog the word for later use. Dick turns away from you, glaring out the window. You can see the way his eyes narrow through the reflection in the window. The look in his eyes is a complicated mix of irritation and hurt and regret.  

You silently agree to table the discussion, at least, until you got off the road. 

You brush past the elevator door, tossing your bag to the corner and leaning against the cool wall of the elevator. Dick enters and leans on the opposite wall, gingerly rubbing his shoulder. Neither of you look at each other. You watch the buttons light up as the elevator climbs up. Your skin is still buzzing from emotions. You thought the quiet drive would right them but… it didn’t.

To your side, you hear the restless tapping of feet. You glance over to Dick whose body is vibrating and itching from movement. Seems you weren’t the only one jittery. You smother a snort in your hand. It was cruel but you find the fact that he’ll be so bored while recovering is slightly funny. 

The elevator shakes. You’re thrown off balance. There’s a metallic clunking above you. You both lookup. Dick strains his ears to listen. You quiet your breathing so as not to distract him. He sighs and curses, the side of his fist pounding against the wall. “It’s just broken.” You look at him, eyes wide and dumbfounded. 

“Are you fucking with me?”

He shakes his head. “I wish,” he scoffs. You scrunch your nose and Dick sneers. “We’re just gonna have to wait, I guess.”  And you press yourself against your wall. “Wonderful.” 

You both stew in silence. “I can’t believe I’m stuck...” you mutter under your breath as you try to pry the elevator doors open. Dick rolls his eyes at you. “You can’t open those doors, (y/n),” he ruffles his hair in frustration, “we just need to wait for the fire department, dumbass.”He says, his head lulling back against the wall. 

 You hiss, your fingers sore and red. “Has anyone ever told you that you were an ass?” You snarl making Dick scowl at you. 

“You’ve said so like 5 times in the emergency room and 2 times in- Do you really wanna start this again?!”

You punch the door, creating a deep divet. “You’re goddamn right I wanna start this again because, Richard, for once in your goddamned life I wish you would stop being such a self-centered dickweed!” You seethe. Your knuckles hurt. They feel cool. They’re probably bleeding. 

Dick shoots up from the corner. “How am I self-centered?”

“Risking your life like a fucking moron like that?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I was trying to save those people.”

“That’s exactly what I’m talking about,” you throw your arms up in exasperation, “do you know just how bad you are at keeping yourself alive because of that fucking hero complex, huh? You dumb. piece. of. Shit.”  You take a deep breath and continue your tirade. “You think you’re invincible just cus you run around in tights all night?”

Dick smirks at you. “You never had a problem with my tights when-”

“Check your ego, Grayson. I’ve dealt with a lot of spandex-clad pretty boys before, you’re nothing special.” You want the words to sting. 

“Oh please, you dealt with them by putting them in body bags!”

“Yeah! Fuck you! You’ll end up in one the rate you’re going.” Dick is speechless for a moment. Something in Dick’s eyes flares. You flinch and open your mouth to say something but Dick roars, the sound loud in the confined space. “What? Are you gonna tell me to stop being a hero? Are you gonna tell me that I’m not good enough to be Nightwing like how Bruce told me I couldn’t be Robin? Hah?”

Your heart drops and your chest burns. Your hackles draw up as high as they can. You bare your teeth. “No, you fucking moron That’s not the point!”

“What is it then, (y/n)? What do you want from me?!”

“You always go on this damn crusade to save everyone and everything and you don’t bother to take care of yourself or how it would affect others!”

“Wha-”

“No! You don’t- You don’t ever think!”You shove him against the wall, jabbing your finger into his chest. 

Dick glares down at you, grabbing your wrist in an almost painful grip. His finger jabs against your collar bone as he gets in your face, his hot breath fanning against your skin. “Fuck you! You’re just as bad as I am! You always throw yourself in front of others at the first sound of gunfire.”

“Dipshit, I have accelerated healing!” you say, ripping your hand out of his grip. 

“THAT DOESN’T MEAN YOU’RE INVINCIBLE.”

“Neither are you!” You sob, it comes out wet and raw. You close your eyes. You can still see the blood on his uniform. You sink to the floor, clutching at his shirt. Your tears sting even as they fall to the floor. “Neither are you.”

“(y/n)...” Dick’s shoulders droop as he watches you proud form crumple, entire body shaking.  He lowers himself to the ground slowly, careful not to agitate you. 

You press forward and bury your face into his shoulder, fist lightly punching his chest. You don’t want him to see you cry.  “Dick… I’m not saying you should quit… that- that’s just who you are.” You hiccup, tears flowing.“I just- I don’t want to bury you. I don’t- I can’t lose you, you fucking moron… You can’t just worm your way into someone’s heart and- and- ”

“(Y/n)...” Dick pulls you into his lap and lays his chin on your head. He hadn’t really thought… He should have known. He should have guessed. 

You pull away and look him in the eye, eyes bloodshot from crying. “You can’t just expect me to be ok with the possibility you won’t come back to me,” you say lowly, punching his chest.   The next few words come out in a shy whisper, low enough that Dick has to strain his ears to hear you. “Dick… I love you. I want to grow old with you, you waste of oxygen.” You cry into Dick’s shoulder not able to face him.  Dick shakes his head. He puts his hand on the back of your neck and presses a kiss to your hair. Dick doesn’t know how many times he has to tell you he doesn’t think less of you for crying on his shoulder but he’ll tell you no matter how many times you need to hear it.  

You sit in silence with only your muffled sobs and Dick’s comforting words filling the dead air. 

 “Timmy is gonna kill you for making me cry,” you sniffle, facing him with a wet tear-stained smile. 

Dick gives you a crooked smile in return.“ I still have no idea how you managed to turn my siblings against me,” Dick says, planting another kiss on your face but this time on your eyelid just below your brow. 

“You say that like it’s hard.” 

Dick pouts at you and you cackle loud and high, somehow still managing to sound musical. “I am a lovable big brother-”

“-And I’m a fucking nun-” Dick pinches your ass through your skirt. “We'll  have nun of that,”

You grab Dick’s wrist in a tight grip, managing to narrow your eyes at him. “I am not dropping this conversation just  to get fucked in an elevator.”

His eyes shine cheekily at the idea.“Wasn't my plan... but that works.”

“Dick…”

Dick leans down, his nose grazing your pulse, brushing like petals against your skin. “Let me make it up to you,” Dick says, licking a stripe up the column of your neck. Ignoring the swell of his pants against your inner thigh, you pinch his cheek, tugging him away from your neck. Your stomach roils at the loss of his lips on your skin but you suppress a whine to glare at him.

Dick looks up at you, mischief lighting his eyes. He pulls away from your hand. His lips find their way back to your neck then back up your jaw. His lips press kisses along your jawline. “It’ll-”kiss”-be-” kiss “-sooo worth it.”

Your breath hitches.“Dick...” you whine, feeling your skin heat. Your mind is buzzing. He smiles against you. His fingers toy with the strap of your bra, tugging it down slowly, carefully, making sure you feel every bit of his movement. “I hear my name-” he kisses your shoulder “-but you’re not stopping me.”

You roll your hips, panting for him. Dick’s tongue is hot against your skin. “C’mon, sweetheart, you know I can make you scream my name with just one hand,” Dick whispers against the shell of your ear. His hand slides down your arm down to your hip, his hand guiding your ass towards his growing bulge. “C’mon, Sweetheart, think about it-” Lick ”-the words I could make you sing.”

“Dick...” you pant, arching your back, pressing your body against his, giving him more access to your neck. Dick nips at your flesh happily. “Honey, I’m going to-”   

You yelp, your skin flying off your bones when you hear the elevator doors open. Dick, unphased, continues kissing you and licking up your skin. 

“Heeey guys, it’s Grayson,” the fireman calls out to the other men behind him. He turns back to the two of you with a cheeky grin.“Dickie, if I’d known it was you..” He glances towards you, eyes catching on the red hickeys blooming on your shoulder. You want to evaporate. “You guys need a minute?” Dick grins against your skin, looking up at you through thick lashes. “Thanks, Jerry, but we might need more than that.”

You glare down at Dick who simply smiles at you as he nips at your flesh.  “What? Feeling shy?” Dick breathes against your neck and all of a sudden, all of the anger and irritation comes creeping back. You shove Dick lightly, standing up and fixing your shirt. “I think he has a concussion. I suggest you check him out,” you snarl, brushing past Jerry leaving Dick on the floor, horny and stunned. 

“I’m totally fine!” Dick says, scrambling to his feet and grabbing your bag. 

You glare over your shoulder. “Our argument isn’t over.”

“What? But- I thought- We were about to-” Your scowl deepens as you see Dick flounder.  Jerry cackles as he gives Dick’s back an unsympathetic pat. 

“Sorry about that, Grayson. I guess you were destined to get blue balled,” Jerry laughs shaking his head. Dick sighs deeply, his shoulders drooping. “Are you really sorry?” Dick asks, side-eyeing Jerry. Jerry grins. “Nah, but it’s the thought that counts,” Jerry says, looking all too pleased with himself. 

Dick bumps past Jerry gently with a slightly petulant look on his face which earns him a chuckle from Jerry and a glare from you. “Watch the shoulder,” you crow from the hall. 

Jerry shakes his head. “No, hero’s welcome, huh?” Dick rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah, she’s not exactly happy about the hole in my shoulder,” Dick admits, sheepishly. Jerry shoves Dick forward lightly and the other firemen do the same. “Go get ‘er, Tiger!”

Dick falls into step behind you, his lips brushing the back of your neck. His arm wraps around you as he pulls you close. He places a kiss behind your ear. You gasp and you hear hoots behind you. “Dick… Don’t… You can’t solve this with an orgasm,” you sigh, feeling your resolve crumble as his soft lips brushed the weak point of your neck. “Honey… please.” Dick holds you against his chest. The beating of his heart thaws you. “Honey, I’m sorry...” His breath runs down the side of your neck and it feels like feathers caressing your skin. You take a breath. He just knew how to make you melt. 

“... I love you too.”

Tag list: @batarella, @anothertimdrakestan, @lucy-roo, @multifandomgirl-us, @idkmanicantenglish,@birdy-bat-writes,  @boosyboo9206, @americasmarauders , @l-inkage, @arestorationofbalance , @cloudie-skay, @wunderstell   @hyp-oh-critical @glorified-red

[echo-of-sounds]

hypersensitivities

How Aizawa, Toshinori, and Hizashi would help and support their s/o with hypersensitivities.

While hypersensitivities can be caused by many things (both mental and physical), mine are from ADHD and anxiety. I believe I kept these as general as possible so others can relate even if their issues aren’t caused by the same things as mine.

Aizawa Shouta

Aizawa’s the least picky person out there. Come home with a different smelling shampoo for him or a new comforter made out of your preferred material and he won’t bat an eye. If it works, he’s fine with it.

Rubbing. Digging. Scruffing. Itching. Constricting. You just can’t get away from it. There’s always something touching you. It makes your entire being uncomfortable and agitated. He’ll ask if there’s anything he can do. He knows you sometimes need space to breathe and calm yourself. Those times when you want someone to help, he’s there. If you need your weighted blanket, he can find it. If you need shea butter lotion, he can apply it. If you just need some skin-to-skin contact, he can provide it. Anything to get you to stop scratching and pulling at yourself, he’ll do because he hates seeing you so visibly distraught.

Having a strong sense of taste and an aversion to textiles can lead to a difficult food life. Onions are fine if they’re in this dish, prepared this way. Tomatoes, mushrooms, and bananas? Gooey and slimy. Seafood? Beans? Never. It’s frustrating to just eat. While Aizawa’s no connoisseur or nutritionist, he can (surprisingly) cook pretty well. And he sticks to plain, easy dishes. It’s great when you’re essentially limited to bread, some kinds of pasta, and some fruits and meats. He can help with any simple soups and basic meat dishes. 

If a truck’s horn or that ridiculously high pitch buzzing finally breaks your ears down to the point you’re crying, find Shouta. He’s always willing to cuddle. Even more so when you need comforting. He’s so safe and secure. Hands will stroke circles while lips kiss your temple. If you have to play rain or ocean sounds in your earbuds or from your phone, he’ll lay in bed with you, keeping you locked to him, and press kisses all over.

Whenever you leave the house, he reminds you to bring any glasses that you need: FL-41 for light sensitivity, blue blockers for computer screens, even category 4 sunglasses if your eyes need that amount of protection. He always remembers. You’ll be at the mall, squinting from the horrible fluorescents, and he’ll pull them out of his pocket for you.

His hair is perfect for hiding in when you’re out in public. It’s thick and smells like him. And while he dislikes PDA, he does make exceptions. Whenever you need a break from the lights, just turn into him, rest against his chest, and his hair will fall over your eyes. He’ll hold you close, patiently waiting for you to be ready to continue.

Please, never feel high-maintenance. If anything, having you in his life makes him more attentive to himself. He’ll eat better from any meal plans. He’ll clean his place more often so it’s enjoyable for you. He is especially aware of what cleaning supplies and detergent he uses. He just becomes considerate of how you’re in his life and what he does because he loves you.

Yagi Toshinori

Toshi developed a love for cooking. With his injury, his nutritional needs changed, so he’s learned to cook well to avoid constantly buying expensive foods. Any aversions you have, whether it be texture, smell, or taste, he’ll avoid. Can the slightest change in the sauce throw the whole dish off? His measurements are as precise as can be. Lettuce is fine, but spinach, cabbage, and parsley? It’s basically paper in your mouth. He’ll find recipes that include just lettuce and your preferred vegetables. You’ll come home to another new dish he made to surprise you.

Textile sensitivities are difficult to deal with. And clothes shopping becomes the worst task of them all. You have to test the fabric, the seams, where the tag is, how the shoulders and neck sit, the sleeve tightness, everything. Toshi will keep a list of the exact materials you like for blankets, pillows, towels, carpets, and clothing. And it doesn’t stop there. Is stoneware and glass dinnerware too irritating on your fingers? His next investment his wooden or metal dinnerware. Is cold press and rough drawing paper uncomfortable? He’ll be on the lookout for specific hot press paper.

The only thing he uses that smells is his cologne. It’s simple and never overwhelming. But if you need a different scent, he’s more than willing to go to the store with you so you can pick out something you like. 

Any scents that calm you, candles, incense, and those air freshener crystal beads, will be that scent. Vanilla or lavender. Maybe there’s some obscure scent you can only dig up online? Oh, he’ll find it. It’s incomprehensible how much he loves you. And your comfort is vital. Because if you can’t feel comfortable in your own home, then something’s seriously wrong.

The lightbulbs in your place are always free for you to change. If incandescent bulbs are what you need in the living room, buy them and change them out. If green LED lights help with migraines and pain, put them in the lamp near your bed while you rest. Install smart lighting so you can dim and change the lights whenever you need to. Toshi doesn’t care about the expenses. If it helps and protects your eyes, then money means nothing to him.

It doesn’t help that his smile is just so darn bright.

Overstimulation takes over so suddenly. You’re sitting in the living room, reading, when all of a sudden, the TV and microwave throws your hearing off, your bra becomes a boa constrictor and it’s only tightening, the flowers, food, and candles engulfs your entire being. It’s throttling, smothering, and you can’t escape. You’re left to drown. 

The minute you’re scratching, rocking, or crying, he’s prepared. Is your dog fluffy and grounding? Toshi brings her over. Do you need a hot or cold shower? It’s already running. Is fresh air the best for you? He’s walking you to the balcony or roof for a break. He can stay with you or leave you alone.

Yamada Hizashi

Hizashi is a little bit of a picky eater too. Certain vegetables and sauces like tartar, guacamole, and harissa bother him, especially if the sauces are chunky. He prefers smoother dressings/sauces. So he completely understands any food aversions you have and never makes you feel guilty for being picky. He spends extra care when choosing what restaurants to go to and what he picks up for takeout.

He loves jewelry, not just wearing it, but on his partner too: necklaces that highlight your collarbones and rings that emphasize your fingers. He wants to buy you jewelry and hates that you don’t like it. He isn’t mad at you or your preferences but at how uncomfortable you get in your own skin. He wants you to feel great. And those mornings where you change outfits nine times until you finally find something that isn’t suffocating, his heart breaks.

You can bet he’ll come home with five bras and ten shirts he found that he knows you’ll like. The shirts are soft and the exact size and shape you want with no annoying frills, buttons, or ties. The bras are cute and never have tight, prodding wires or scratchy lace. He’s like a bloodhound when he’s at the store. One whiff of a good pair of pants and he’s ransacking the isles for more like it. He wants you feeling cozy, comfortable, and sexy!

A lot of gum goes in his mouth. His breath and taste is always something. But mint is powerful. There are too many kinds- spearmint, peppermint, winter-something, sweet-whatever, polar-anything. They’re overwhelming, upset your stomach, soak into your tongue, and cling to your clothes. You’ll smell it long after he gives you a kiss. To help, Hizashi will buy literally every flavor of gum there is and let you pick the ones you like. Bubblegum? Classic. Berry Blast? He loves fruit! Apple Pie or Confetti Cake Pop? Odd choice but he can dig it!

Noise sensitivities will be a little tough to manage when living with him. And it’s not his quirk that’s the problem. He’s just a noisy guy. He’s bumping things, knocking them over. He hums, pops, and sings all the time. Music or instruments are often playing somewhere in the apartment. Sound canceling headphones would be a good investment because it’s near impossible for him to just stop making noise. It's ingrained in him. Though there will be days when he’s almost completely quiet so he can spend time with you… and press kisses all over your face.

If you need sunglasses, Hizashi is your guy. Styles, tints, frames, colors, he’ll make sure your eyes are protected and you look perfect. In your home, he’ll cover up any reflective or bright surfaces that bother you: throwing a blanket over the refrigerator and getting blackout curtains. And if you need the often dreaded eyedrops, he’ll apply them for you. He’ll reward you with chocolate and kisses.

Since he’s so in tune with his partner’s emotions, he can notice when you’re starting to get overstimulated. Your voice may get sharper. You're itching your arm till it’s red. Your squinting and tilting away from certain sounds. He’ll recommend you take a break. Go lay down with the cat. Read a book under your weighted blanket. Burn some candles while in the bath. He’ll massage lotion into your back after for extra comfort.

[skzsauce01]

Normal Pt 3

Description: For more skilled maneuvers, dragon shifters need a rider to help them out. After rejecting multiple riders, Hyunjin, a traumatized and handicapped shifter, is assigned to you. To add a cherry on top, you’re deaf, so how are you supposed to cast spells to free him from his limitation, let alone the anger in his heart? 

Warning: violence

Word Count: 2.8k

Pairing: fem!reader x dragon!Hyunjin

Pt: 1 // 2 // 3 // 4 // 5

He looks nervous, and you can tell by the way he’s munching his lip rather than the appai berries. 

‘What’s wrong?’ you ask, taking a seat besides him in the waiting room.

He shakes his head and shifts a seat over.

‘Will there be a lot of people watching?’ He carries around his own notepad now.

You smile lopsidedly, having gotten the sense of his insecurities about his abnormality already. ‘Come on, let’s show them you’re twice the dragon they’ll ever be with just half the tail!’

He wonders where you get your confidence from especially after you draw an ice dragon as your opponent in the arctic arena no less. When he walks out onto the battlegrounds, he sees Hye Ji in the audience cheering and giving him thumbs ups. In front of him, his opponent yawns cockily on the ice.

All the noise and bright lights are starting to make him dizzy. A knot that he can’t swallow down forms in his throat. Just then, he feels a nudge on his shoulder. It’s you, and you’re mouthing the words ‘Twilight Terror.’

That’s right. Tail or no tail, he’s part of a legendary breed of dragons known for their superior beauty and even greater strength. He returns a weak nod to which you shake your head and point frantically to his necklace.

His necklace?

The start gun fires right at that moment, and the opponent wastes no time blasting a beam of ice in your direction, separating the two of you as you jump apart to avoid the attack.

Hyunjin rolls out of the attack, gasping the transformation spell. He can hear some murmuring from classmates who have never seen his injury before and starts to get nervous again. It’s similar, he thinks, to his rider’s jeers he heard when he felt the first searing pain shoot through his left fin. 

Another sound cuts through all the other ones: a crack. Multiple cracks, in fact. He looks down to see the ice beneath his feet breaking apart from his massive weight. He looks to you and lets out a howl to which your necklace glows white in response, ready for him to take flight.

With his front paws, Hyunjin picks you up right as the ice dragon unflurles another one of his attacks. A summersault later, you are on Hyunjin’s back, ready to fight back. 

If there’s one thing Twilight Terrors do not do, it’s disappoint. Hyunjin blinds the other dragons with a wave of flames before picking it up and slamming it against the ceiling. You help him dive backwards back down just as another ice beam finds itself heading your way. A fireball is sent to counter the icy spikes the opponent sends right after. Hyunjin’s attack nicks the other dragon on the wing, immobilizing it for at least a few minutes. The glass panels protecting the audience vibrates as Hyunjin pushes off of it for his next attack. The ice dragon sends a spiral of ice shards to slow him down. You can tell the spiral is just like the last obstacle of the intermediate course, so you send the same pattern of magic down his body. Hyunjin grunts in understanding, and narrows his eyes in preparation.

He blinks the memory away. Not now. Not now! He isn’t sure who said it this time, but he sure remembers who said it six years ago. He must have flinched because he feels you pushing his ears down to block out the sounds, but the damage has already been done.

“Look at his tail!”

“Look at his tail! My boy, you’ll sell for millions.”

You pass through the first of the shards without a hitch and brace yourself for the next one.

“You don’t know how much Twilight Terror parts sell for, do you, you poor, naive thing? Maybe you’ll think twice before swearing your loyalty to someone. Oh wait! No one will want you after I’m done anyway. You’ll always belong to me.”

You can feel Hyunjin freezing up under you, rejecting your control, and there is nothing you can do. A shard impales his wings which freaks him out even more. Hyunjin tosses you off his back and collides into the glass on the opposite side.

The ice dragon, having recovered from Hyunjin’s burn, is quick to catch your falling form out of the air. You kick and stab with your dagger, but what is a human against a dragon? 

With a crash, the snowy reptilian lands back on the ice. It grabs you with one paw and slams you pass the frozen water and into the liquid below. 

Through the ice, you see Hyunjin’s distorted shape shaking his head to clear it of his memories and the uproar of the crowd. Your fingers burn from the cold and your head screams from the impact it took to break through the ice. Around your neck, the metallic necklace the proctors gave you earlier shines brightly. Just activate it with a spell and they’ll end the match and save you from this icy, airless torture. 

You can feel your body going limp from the lack of oxygen. If you wait any longer, you might not have the ability to hum the spell.

Hyunjin. Fight it.

Fight it. As if by magic, the Terror snaps out of his trance. The sight of the arena fills his vision once more, replacing the visions of the dungeon from his memories. Hyunjin roars in panic when he spots your lifeless body held under the freezing water. He takes off in flight towards you, not caring about what the audience has to say at the random mishaps his tail causes without your control. 

Five seconds till arrival, sixty until your body gives out. The opponent shoots an ice beam, knocking him off course. Ten seconds till arrival now, and fifty-seven till your demise. Hyunjin conjures the hottest flames he can manage and sends it on its way. To dodge, the opponent races further, dragging you along with it. Twenty and forty-nine. It isn’t fast enough for Hyunjin’s flames, however, and lets out a roar of pain and collapses to its side. Taking this opportunity, Hyunjin burns it up. In agony, the ice dragon drops you to roll around to smother the flames. In vain, of course; a Twilight Terror’s flames aren’t so easy to extinguish. Nethertheless, your body is sinking into the freezing depths.

Thirty seconds until the opponent activates their necklace and forfeits. Thirty-one left on your lifeline. Thirty two until he reaches you with his broken tail. 

“We tap out!”

Hyunjin’s human voice rings loud and clear through the arena. Everyone in the audience was holding their breaths. Even the proctors hesitated, unsure if they heard him correctly, before springing into action. 

He sees it clearly when they fish you out of the water, the trickle of blood from your head that runs down your uniform. It will stain there to remind him that he’s almost killed you. Again.

“Hyunjin!” Normally, he’d turn around for that voice, but not this time. “Hyunjin!”

The owner of the voice finally catches up to him and hands him a chocolate milk. “You did really well!” 

“Thanks, Hye Ji,” he sighs, not really putting thought into what he’s saying.

“You almost won! You had that other guy totally in the bag!” she continues excitedly. “And how you flew so fantastically even with your injury? Inspiring.”

“But I didn’t.”

Hye Ji blinks a few times. “Of course you did! You--”

“I threw her off of me. I threw her to her death.”

“I’m sure she knows you didn’t mean it…”

“Unfortunately it’s not up to her what she thinks; it’s just what happened. I’m unflyable.”

“Hwang Hyunjin.” Hye Ji’s sudden deviation from her cheerleader-y voice throws Hyunjin off guard. She pulls on his sleeve with her head down, unused to disagreeing with her crush. “I-I don’t know Miss L/N very well, but I know she won’t like it if she heard you saying that. I-if you must say it, I think she’d prefer you to say it to her face. That way, she can argue back, you know?”

Hyunjin looks down at his milk. “You’re right, Hye Ji. Thanks.”

The girl pokes her two fingers together. “Just doing what Miss L/N would since she can’t do it herself right now.”

Hyunjin thanks her again and makes his way to the clinic, stopping by the snack stand along the way. In the clinic halls, he sees three boys loitering there.

“Excuse me,” Hyunjin says sternly.

“Oh look who it is! The dragon of the dead deaf girl!”

“Excuse me,” Hyunjin repeats, louder.

“Is he even her dragon? Their pendants aren’t even matching. Besides, it’s not like a dumb witch like her can ever make it far as a rider anyway.”

The three proceed to plug their ears with their fingers and chant in a high pitched voice, “I can’t hear you! I can’t hear you!”

Hyunjin squeezes the chocolate milk so hard, it bursts. With the same hand, he slams one of them against the wall by the neck. “You take that back,” he growls.

“What are you going to do? Hit me with that broken tail of yours?” 

“Broken or otherwise, it’s a tail Y/N has spent weeks upon weeks trying to master, so you better take that back too.” His grip tightens. “Unless you want to outrun my fireballs.”

The boy tches and pushes Hyunjin off of him before walking away with his friends. With a shake of his head, Hyunjin rinses his hand off and heads for your room. Inside, he sees someone he wants to punch even more than those three hooligans.

“Chan.”

The upperclassman’s flicks his head to the side to look at Hyunjin with a sharp gaze. He is standing at the foot of the bed where you lay sleeping.

“How many more times, Hyunjin? How many more?” he whispers harshly, walking up to the other male. “How many more times do I have to see her like this because of you?”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know you hate riders, but did you have to throw her off like that? And in the middle of a battle?” 

Hyunjin realizes what the whole situation must have looked like to the spectators. He, a rider hating reptile, mercilessly tossed you into the enemy’s jaws while he stood to the side, not lifting a muscle only to forfeit the entire match. How Hye Ji managed to still believe in him after seeing that, he does not know.

“I don’t have to explain myself to you.”

Chan takes another step forward, backing Hyunjin against the wall. “Sure you do. She’s my-- My…”

“Girlfriend?” Hyunjin finishes for him.

“Well--”

A cough cuts him off. Both males turn toward you to see you scribbling something.

‘Chan, don’t be so hard on him; he didn’t mean it.’

Hyunjin doubts he even read the note as the other rider rushes to your side, taking your hand in his and rubbing your fingers.

‘How are you feeling? Do you need a nurse?’

‘I’m fine,’ you reply with a reassuring smile. 

‘If you need anything, just tell me okay? I’m always here for you.’

‘Actually, can I have a moment with him?’ 

Chan’s right eye twitches as he turns to look at where you’re pointing. 

‘He won’t hurt me,’ you promise.

‘Fine. I trust you, but scream if anything happens, okay?’

You nod, and he walks out the door with a firm gaze on Hyunjin. The dragon walks up to you timorously. 

“Hey. I got you this.” He pulls out a strawberry yakult. He rubs it between his hands, trying to warm it, before poking a straw in it for you.

‘Thank you.’

‘Y/N?’

You raise your eyebrow, and he fidgets with the edge of your blanket. 

‘I’m sorry. For dropping you. And for being a bad dragon.’

You can’t help but giggle at the last part. It makes him seem like even more of a sad puppy. 

‘I know you didn’t mean it.’

‘Still. It’s my fault. I understand if you want to take back your promise of taking me to the New Year’s Race.’

You place your hand over his. ‘I would never do that, but I do want one thing.’

He looks at you through his bangs. 

‘Tell me how you lost your tail.’

Hyunjin freezes. It’s not a topic he’s talked about to anyone, not even Changbin. Is he about to tell a rider of all people? He picks up his pen.

‘I can’t.’

You push down his pad. ‘I’m not asking you to write it. I’m asking you to tell me.’

‘But you can’t even hear it.’

‘So no pressure, right?’ The smile that accompanies your note makes his stomach squeeze unnaturally. 

Hyunjin frowns at you. ‘You know you’re asking much more than getting on my back or dragging me out to practice in the middle of the night, right?’

You match his expression and sit up straight, setting the bottle of yakult on the nightstand. His eyes are fogging the same way they did both times before he rejected your magic. With caution as to not trigger him, you place your arms around his shoulders. To your surprise, he rests his chin on your shoulder.

I know.

You didn’t have to say the words. It is like he can read your thoughts just by feeling your heart beating against him steadily and comfortingly. He was supposed to hate riders-- he was supposed to hate you-- but now, all he wants to do is everything to make sure you never leave his side. 

He remembers how differently his ex-rider’s heartbeat felt. It was erratic and dangerous every time he was with Hyunjin. He remembers how his own heartbeat mirrored Lee’s on that fateful night when he was tied to the ground by nothing but the trust he placed in that wicked man.

“I, Hwang Hyunjin, Terror of the Twilights, the last rays of the sun, hereby swear my soul and body to the service of my master, Lee. May no shadows of death or rain from the crying skies touch my master’s head before it feels the torment of my flames for as long as I live.”

“Good, good! You’re doing so well, my boy! There’s just one more step now.”

Hyunjin nodded at his master’s prompting and took on his dragon form. He raked his own claws against his skin to draw blood and offered it to Lee who let it rain all over him with a victorious laugh as his previously white pendant glowed a deep purple.

“Now… it is complete,” he sighs, slowly opening his eyes. “Let’s test it, shall we?”

Hyunjin was prancing around happily until Lee commanded him to freeze. Hyunjin gasped amazedly at the sensation. It was as if he was of one body and mind with his master, and he could not be happier than to share this experience with who he thought was his best friend…

… until he heard the talks about the demand for Terror parts on the black market. 

By then, it was too late to take back his oath. Hyunjin laid on the cold, hard stone, unable to do more than whimper as Lee cut into the first thing he could reach: his tailfin. Hyunjin could not feel the pain in his tail so much as he could feel the one in his heart.

“Why?” he kept roaring. “Why?” 

You feel the vibrations on his chest stop as he finishes his story. You don’t make an effort to move afterwards and just continue rubbing slow circles onto his back. He’s grateful for this, your warmth and your hospital gown that’s soaking up years of unshed tears. He’s also grateful for your steadfast support. You couldn’t have understood anything-- why he treated you like trash and why he is clinging onto you now-- but you’ve been there for him nonetheless. 

He feels like you would tell him to his face beforehand if you wanted his other fin for money, and he feels like he would give it to you without hesitation if you did. At the same time, he feels like you never would ask such a thing, that you would rather sell your remaining senses before you did. He feels like he can trust again. For you, he’ll trust again.

There’s a rustling outside your door, but not one which Hyunjin can process at the moment. Had he been able to, he might have opened it to see Chan taking his hand out of his pockets with a sigh of grievance and walking away down the hall.

~ ad.gold

[vs-redemption]

for the character ask game: Luck, Magna, Finral, Gauche and Vanessa

From Cindy: Hey anon! I’m sorry this took so long to post! I just had to really think about some of these! It was super fun to write though, so thank you so much!

*Sorry this is so long!*

Luck Voltia

First impression

I had a tough time getting over the fact that his English VA was the same as Midoriya from BNHA at first, but thankfully that went away pretty fast. I pretty much loved Luck immediately though. I heard him trying to fight people with that crazy look on his face and was sold. I also lost my mind a bit when they started calling him the “cheery berserker.” Like, please give me a nickname like this please.

Impression now

I still love Luck a lot! My initial reasoning still stands, but I’ve also enjoyed that we’ve had a few peeks into his past and inner workings of his mind to understand not only WHY he acts the way he does but also gain an understanding that he has complex emotions and isn’t just a crazy fighting machine.

Favorite moment

All Luck moments are great, but I always laugh when I think about the time Mereoleona blasted into the Black Bulls hideout to kidnap people for training. Everyone else looked horrified to be dragged away by her fire claw arms, but Luck just has this super happy excited look on his face! He’s so cute.

Idea for a story

What about Luck discovering he loves a hobby other than fighting? Like singing or drawing? Or an AU where he’s in a boy band or something ahaha

Unpopular opinion

I do love his friendship with Magna, but I do feel like it’s a bit unbalanced at times and maybe toxic for Magna. I’ve said this before, but Magna is pretty sensitive and seems to get genuinely upset when Luck manages to outperform him, especially when Luck managed to get into the magic knights and he didn’t. Luck is also kinda blunt about things sometimes, and even if he doesn’t really mean any harm by it, it makes me feel bad for Magna.

Favorite relationship

Despite what I just said, of course I enjoy Luck and Magna’s relationship. Luck inspires Magna to get stronger, and Magna is patient enough to endure Luck’s antics while also serving as an example of what human relationships should look like since poor Luck has such a weird, unhealthy relationship/attachment to his mom.

Favorite headcanon

It’s hard to imagine Luck in a romantic relationship since he’s just a small ball of crazy energy, but I’d like to think he’d be super warm and cuddly with someone he loves.

Magna Swing

First impression

I had a hard time knowing how I felt about Magna at first. I never disliked him but I went back and forth about him a lot and I’m not sure why. I’m naturally drawn to characters associated with fire, so I liked his magic right away. I suppose it took me a while to get used to his personality though. I think his appearance threw me off a bit too.

Impression now

I’m cool with Magna! He acts loud and tough all the time, but inside he’s actually really sweet. He’s a hard worker, which I respect, and he deeply cares about his friends and teammates in the black bulls.

Favorite moment

I like when he introduced that new vanishing fireball attack (I think against Asta in the royal knight exam). That was so cool that he adapted his power and learned from the mistakes from previous fights. I also just love any time he freaks out and starts batting fireballs at Luck. It’s funny. Or any time he screams about his crazy cyclone.

Idea for a story

What if someone wrote a fic where Magna joins the Crimson Lions instead of the Black Bulls? He could train his fire magic with the Vermillion family. That might be neat.

Unpopular opinion

Magna isn’t really my type, looks wise, but I definitely did a double take during the elf fights when his sunglasses were off and his hair was all disheveled.

Favorite relationship

I really like Magna’s relationship with Yami. Magna really respects the captain, and it’s nice to see them go out and do their gambling together even though it usually ends up with them returning empty handed and naked. haha

Favorite headcanon

Magna seems pretty shy about relationship stuff. He looks and acts like a punk, but I bet he’d be a perfect gentleman to his significant other. I can imagine him defending their honor or just taking care of any assholes who try to bully them.

Finral Roulacase

First impression

Oh Finral! It’s hard to remember clearly, but I think I felt disappointed with him at first. He was just kind of this guy that was obsessed with getting a date and used by Yami for making portals. I didn’t like how lazy and unmotivated he seemed.

Impression now

I am a firm believer that Finral is a precious bean and I love him so much! Now that I know where his insecurities come from, I can understand and sympathize with his nervousness and low self-confidence. I absolutely love how he’s been working harder and learning to use his magic in more useful ways to become a more valuable member of the team though. He’s starting to stand up for himself and become not only a better magic knight, but a better person in general too. (Although his flirting never bugged me that much)

Favorite moment

I don’t like that Finral got hurt so badly, but the moment where Langris was attacking him and every member of the black bulls rushed to stop him was really powerful. It showed that he was a loved member of the squad, plus the whole fact that he was finally making a stand against his brother was a big deal for him.

Idea for a story

I’d like to read anything about Finral with someone, either a friend or partner, who gives him lots of affection and verbal praise so the poor guy can build up his confidence a little. He deserves that. Smother him with love and affection! Do it!

Unpopular opinion

I don’t really care for the whole “competing to marry Lady Finesse” thing. I want Finral to find happiness and be able to have a comfortable and respected role within his family, but I’m not too concerned about if he ends up with her.

Favorite relationship

I’ve been thinking about this for a few minutes and I honestly can’t come up with one, which is sad. Maybe I’m forgetting someone but it doesn’t seem like Finral has any close relationships/friendships. I know he’s friends with everyone in the Black Bulls but nobody stands out as being especially close to him.

Favorite headcanon

Finral probably has a lot of guilty pleasure hobbies that help him manage his anxiety. For example baking, knitting, reading romance novels, or listening to cheesy love songs.

 Vanessa Enoteca

First impression

I feel like I was just curious and confused about most of the Black Bulls when they were first introduced because they all seemed like… lazy or unmotivated, so I didn’t understand why they were even in the magic knights or how they passed the exam. Turns out Yami just hands out Black Bull robes like Halloween candy. lolol

Impression now

I like the growth her character has gone through during the series. She seemed like a lazy drunk at first, but when she is motivated she is REALLY motivated. Her loyalty to the Black Bulls is so absolute that it seems like she’d sacrifice ANYTHING or pay any price for her friends.

Favorite moment

When she goes back to the witch queen and offers to give up her freedom to try and save Asta’s arms. It is such a selfless thing to do and it just shows how much Vanessa loves her teammates.

Idea for a story

Uh… a soulmate AU that involves her red thread magic?

Unpopular opinion

I thought it was kind of random that she apparently has a crush on Yami. Like, its fine… I also have a crush on Yami, but I didn’t think it was necessary. Her admiration for him could just be platonic and that would be just as meaningful.

Favorite relationship

Either her relationship with Finral or her relationship with Yami probably. Even though I’m not a huge fan of the green in Finral’s hair, I think it’s cute that he came to Vanessa for advice and that she wants to help him reinvent himself.

Favorite headcanon

Why did I just think of Vanessa and Gordon running an apothecary together? They can just brew potions and poisons together and it would be great. I don’t know.

Gauche Adlai

First impression

Was I supposed to have any other impression than that he was a super creepy sister lover? haha

Impression now

I don’t think I’ll ever be able to get over the sister thing. That actually upsets me because everything else about Gauche is so cool to me. His magic is really awesome, and I love how unique and creative it is. And honestly, I don’t even care that he’s obsessed with his sister. I get that she’s the only family he really had and that he’s protective, but it doesn’t have to be that weird. It really doesn’t.

Favorite moment

I really liked when he used his magic to make a bunch of doubles of Asta, and every other time he caved and actually worked together with other members of the Black bulls. I also like whenever he blasts Asta with a mirror out of nowhere because Marie said something about liking him. Poor Asta has no idea why he’s getting attacked.

Idea for a story

Oh! How about Gauche taking over the church where his sister lives and becoming the protector of all the children? Or he could run a “scared straight” program where he intimidates delinquents into becoming better citizens.

Unpopular opinion

I’m not sure but I think most of his lines about Marie are actually hilarious. Like when he wouldn’t attack Sally’s monster thing because it looked like Marie. That was amusing. It’s just that when his nose starts bleeding and stuff, that makes it go from funny to awkward and creepy.

Favorite relationship

I’ll go with his relationship with the nun. He is such an asshole to her, but she throws it back without hesitation.

Favorite headcanon

I have no idea, but can we start shipping him with that scales dude (Damnatio Kira). I just thought of that and it’s making me happy to imagine it.

[yandere-lovehotel]

Warning this includes mentions of stalking. It is implied that Reader gets changed and bathed while unconscious.

You have been warned.

(Y/n)= your name

(H/n)= hero name

Agreeing to work with Endeavor had been a mistake.

At first you had been excited to work with a high ranking hero. You yourself were only just starting to rise in the ranks after being so low for a while that working with the number two hero was considered an honor.

It was something higher ranked heroes did every now and then. Worked with lower ranked heroes that started to climb the ranks and helped them develop into better heroes. It was good for the general population to have more competent heroes. It helped ease the burden of top ranked heroes to have more strong heroes to help out. And it was also good publicity for both low ranks and high ranks. So you are happy to have THE Endeavor be the hero you worked with. That was until you met the guy.

At first he was content to ignore you and let you do as you pleased no matter how nice and polite you tried to be but slowly he began to start criticizing you.

The man was already a taskmaster but he seemed to be especially hard on you. He was never happy with anything you did. Always too slow, too weak, too stupid. It pissed you off, his high and mighty attitude. He corrected everything you did. From your hand to hand combat, to the "proper" use of your own quirk, hell even to the way you made your coffee! He was insufferable and it was pissing you off more and more as the days went by.

It all came to a head when he forced you to stay away from yet another battle. Saying you were too weak to fight the enemy. You had ignored him and fought anyways, which lead to a very loud and very angry argument once it was over and you were both in a private place.

"What was that (h/n)? I specifically told you to not get involved with that fight." Endeavor hissed.

"Screw that!" You snapped. "I'm a hero! I don't sit back and watch when I can help. Besides it's not as if this was some big threat. It was an easy battle!"

"It doesn't change the fact that I gave you an order! I told you to stay out of the fight but you intentionally ignored me! How can you be a hero if you can't even follow the simple order of 'stay put'"

You grit your teeth together in anger at that, "How can I be a hero at all when you won't even let me fight?! How can I be a hero if I'm not helping anyone?! I became a hero to save people, even if I'm not the best or the strongest. I'm not about to let some high and mighty asshole like you tell me that I have to 'stay put' when I know I can help."

Endeavor took a step closer to you, glaring at you."Just because you think you can do something doesn't mean that you can. You're weak (h/n) and you have no experience in battles like the one I fight."

"I know! I know that I'm not like you or all might or any of the other top rank heroes. My quirk isn't that powerful, and I'm still new enough to be making bad calls but how can I gain the experience and training necessary if you won't give me a chance? How am I supposed to become a better hero if I can't BE a hero?"

Enji smothered the growl that was building in his throat. You just didn't get it, did you? You just didn't see why he was doing this. He wouldn't be able to live with himself if you got hurt. If you got hurt he would lose it. If a villain ever managed to hurt you, he wasn't sure he would be able to hold back from seriously injuring them. God forbid if YOU were ever seriously injured. The offending party could very well become nothing but ash.

This...obsession with you has grown wildly out of his control and the worst part was that he didn't care anymore. Sure at first it downright disgusted him. The urge to follow you and take you and keep you was wrong. But it never stopped him. He had met you not long after he and Rei had divorced. He was content to just ignore you but your unwavering determination to be nice to him drew his attention. It was a downward spiral from there.

He wondered if you ever noticed how he would stare when he thought you weren't looking. How he would glare when he saw you get too friendly with someone. How he hit villains harder if they made threats towards you. If you ever noticed him following you.

He knew almost everything about you. He knew your favorite food. Your favorite places to go when not at work. He knew who you hung out with. He knew what you hated and what you liked. He became intimately aware of your personal life and it gave him the strangest sense of satisfaction. He didn't want you to be a hero. He couldn't stand the thought of you fighting and getting hurt. Of you being seen by others. Of you spending time with people that weren't him. But he also knew that this was the only way for him to spend time with you and the only way to buy time to carry out his plan. It would be too strange if he was seen with you. It would draw too much attention. He wasn't done with the preparations yet.

He drew his attention back to your tirade. God even angry you looked amazing. "If you can't respect the fact that I'm a hero then why am I even here?! I may as well go somewhere that will actually let me help!"

Enji felt his heart freeze. While logically he knew it would be better if he cut all ties with you so as to lower suspicion when he acted out his plan, the idea of not being near you every day...hurt. he couldn't let that happen. He drew a breath and knew that it was time to swallow his pride if he wanted. " You're...right (h/n)."

You paused, dumbfounded. You had been prepared for a sarcastic or cruel remark. Not...that.

"I've been treating you...unfairly. I haven't been giving any thoughts to your development as a hero and was more concerned with the fact that I believed you incapable of handling yourself. You are working with me and I fight dangerous battles. I was worried that your lack of experience in these types of situations would get you, me or someone else hurt. So I made you stay away. But now I see that it has only stunted your ability to grow as a hero. And for that I apologise."

Speechless you watched as Endeavor bowed slightly at the waist. He...he was really saying sorry? That wasn't something you really expected. You had been fully prepared for him to say 'leave then'. For him to tear you down verbally. You were... pleasantly surprised.

Enji hid the irritation from his face. Truthfully he wanted you out of this profession as quickly as possible so he could take care of you. But he had to wait. Wait for the right time, the right place, and the right villain.

_________________________________

After the argument, much to your surprise, things seemed to get better with Endeavor. He was still a critical, standoffish jerk but he finally started let you participate in battles. Your name was finally getting out there.

You were both surveying a mostly abandoned area where a villain was reportedly last seen. Someone with some kind of explosion quirk. He had gotten his hands on an experimental gunpowder. Extremely dangerous in hands like his.

Endeavor was, at first, unwilling to let you tag along. This time you could understand at least. You were a bit iffy on this as well, if you were to be honest. This wasn't just some chump, wanna-be villain. This was an honest threat with a high probability of serious injury or even death if handled improperly. There was little room for error and you weren't sure if you yet had the skill to deal with a situation like this. But a threat of this magnitude, even in an area with far less people, required him to be found as quickly as possible. Whoever found him was to contact the other heroes as quickly and discreetly as possible.

You and endeavor had been the closest, so you both naturally started patrolling for him. You had hoped that back up would arrive before you found him. Unfortunately it seemed like he was looking for the two of you.

"Well, well,well lookie at what I found." came a sneer from behind both of you. You both tensed, turning quickly to face the voice.

_________________________________

Everything hurt. That was the first thing you noticed. The second was that you were on a bed. You opened your eyes blearily. Everything felt sluggish and tilted on an axis. You attempted to sit up but your body quickly protested the movement. You settled on looking around what appeared to be a room.

It was windowless. The walls were a nice shade of red with the floor being a complimentary dark wood. A vanity, a dresser and three doors also decorated the room. A glass of water sat on the night stand next to you. Honestly, if you weren't in pain and quietly freaking out over where the fuck you were, you might have admired the decor. As it was, you were in pain and you were quietly freaking out over where the fuck you were, so you ignored the decor and tried to figure out how you got here.

The last thing you remembered was the battle with that villain.

After he spoke Endeavor wasted no time going after him, while you attempted to contact the other heroes. Only to find out that your device wasn't connecting to anyone. Once it was clear that you wouldn't be able to get a hold of anyone, you joined the battle.

The villain called himself Mayhem. He had a strange device mounted on his wrist that you very quickly discovered held the experimental gunpowder. The device allowed him to control the blasts for long range offense with hugely explosive results. Neutralizing it was the main imperative. You and Endeavor realized going in close was your best option. He wouldn't be able to use powerful explosions without risking his own safety which would hopefully give one of you an opening to disarm him.

The fight was difficult. Mayhem seemed to be no slouch when it came to hand to hand combat and just because he couldn't use more destructive explosions didn't mean he couldn't use small ones. In the end you had caught a blast in your side and were sent flying into a wall, knocking you out. And then you woke up here.

'Did Endeavor lose? Did mayhem win and bring me here to hold as a hostage? But that can't be right. Why would he put me in a room like this?'

Your thoughts were cut off when the door opened. And to your utter surprise it was Endeavor himself who walked through the door, holding what looked to be a small basin. He caught your eye and smiled.

"Ah so you're finally awake. Good, you've been out for a few days now. I was getting worried. The doctor I had take a look at you said you just needed to rest but I was still a bit worried. Your injuries were pretty bad." He said casually.

"En-...deav-...or?" Your throat felt dry and scratchy. It hurt saying even a single word. "Wh-...e-..re-"you cut off into a coughing fit, feeling like needles were stabbing your throat.

Endeavor quickly put down the basin and cloth he was holding and grabbed the glass of water, helping you sit up to take a drink. "There, there (y/n) don't overexert yourself. You're hurt and have been out cold for the past few days. You should keep resting."

You were surprised at the use of your name. Even when you were both off duty, he would refer to you by your hero name. Even more surprising, thought, was his soft tone. He was being very gentle right now. With anyone else and in any other situation it might have been comforting. But right now it just made the hairs on the back of your neck raise. You felt uncomfortable and anxious.

The water helped to ease your throat, which allowed you to get that burning question out.

"Whe-where am I?" You croaked."What happened?"

"You're in my home." He stated plainly.

You felt yourself go stiff with panic. "W-why am I in your house? S-shouldn't I be at a hos-hospital?"

"Why it was time for you to come home my dear. Besides, what use is a hospital for a dead person." He stroked your face lovingly.

"Wh-what." Fear began to tingle down your spine. Your thoughts ran wild 'Did…..did he bring me here to...kill me? Why? What did I do?' You started shaking as you thought of all the horrible ways he would kill you. You were injured and unable to fight back.

He seemed to have noticed your fear because he quickly began talking in a hushed tone. "Hey just relax okay? There's nothing to be afraid of? No one's going to hurt."

"Th-then w-why am I-I h-here? W-why di-did you say I w-was a de-dead person?

He chuckled "You're here because I brought you here. The truth is that I've been interested in you for awhile now. I've..grown feelings for you. When I realized that, I also realized that I hated the thought of you getting hurt. The thought of other people looking at you and getting close to you. I wanted you for myself, wanted to keep you safe and away from others. So I brought you here."

Slowly mounting horror froze you, rendering incapable of words. You wanted to scream and yell. About him being crazy. About how this was fucked up. But the words wouldn't come out and your body was still. He kidnapped you.

"As for the dead person part, well, faking a death is difficult. Faking the death of a hero is harder. But it's nothing that the right people and a bit of money can't accomplish."

He turned his attention towards the basin he had set down. "Oh it seems like the water has gone cold. I'll go get some warm water. Don't want to wash you with cold water now. You might get sick" he said. Your gut churned at the thought that he's probably been bathing and changing you for days now.

Endeavor leaned over, planted a soft kiss on your forehead and eased to lay down once again. You put up no fight. You couldn't put up a fight.

He stood gathered the basin in his arms and walked towards one of the doors. It revealed a bathroom when opened. He went in a closed the door. Leaving you to your thoughts.

________________________________________

Enji breathed a quiet sigh of relief as he closed the door. He was glad that you hadn't fought him. You were still injured and he didn't want to risk you hurting yourself further.

As he turned on the faucet and waited for the water to warm, he thought back to that day.

After you had been knocked out by mayhem he had stopped the fight. The villain had done the job he was told. As he began moving you to a hidden car, mayhem began to pester him.

'so when am I gonna see the money?'

'what'd they do that made ya so mad anyways?'

'how're you even gonna get away with this?'

He had told the fool not to worry that he got what he was owed and to not to worry about. He had the perfect cover up. Once he had placed you in the trunk of the car, he grabbed a crowbar, out of mayhems view. He turned quickly, bashing him across the skull he dropped like a sack of bricks, out like a light. He took the firing mechanism off of his wrist and handcuffed him inside of a warehouse. He made sure that it and the surrounding building were empty

He got in the car and drove carefully away so as to not jostle your injuries. He wasn't too worried about being seen. It had been easy to mess with your device, making it incapable of contacting anyone. He had carefully made sure that you had all been in an area where no one would hear the fighting, even with the explosions. The cameras had also been cut off, which he would later blame on Mayhem, once he was finished taking care of him. After all, he couldn't leave a loose end like that fool. He was too unpredictable and was too risky and volatile to put on his payroll. He didn't want to risk mayhem trying to blackmail him for more money later down the line.

Once Enji got you back and in your new room, he had the doctor take a look at you and heal you somewhat. Not all the way though. He jumped into a different car that had a prepared cadaver in it and returned to where he left mayhem.

The cadaver was incredibly convincing. It had taken the use of several specific quirks but now it was almost impossible to tell the fakes physical features apart from the real. It would even bleed. He had already paid off the necessary people to make this believable. He wasn't worried about them. They were professionals and this wasn't the first time they had done something like this. They could care less about what he's doing and didn't ask unnecessary questions.

He placed the cadaver in the correct spot and began pouring a small amount of gunpowder next to mayhem. Just a small pinch was needed for this step of the plan.

At this point mayhem started to wake.

"Wh-what the? Where-where am i? What happen?" He slurred, head wound making it difficult to talk. He tried moving his hands only to find them handcuffed to a pole behind him

"Wha-what the fu-fuck is this shit. What are you doing?"

Enji laughed quietly. "You didn't actually think I was just going to leave you to your own devices, did you? I can't have someone like you running around with the kind of information you have. So it's time to dispose of you now that you've done what I needed. I've already contacted the agency and told them that you've been subdued. They're on their way to pick you up now." He started walking away from the fool.

"You sonavabitch. We had a deal! They take me and I'll talk, I swear I will!" Mayhem snarled

Enji grinned at his words, stopping just far enough away for his next action. " I said that they were on their way to pick you up." A small amount of fire lit in his hand."I never said that they'd get you alive."

With a casual flick of his hand, he tossed the fire towards the pile of gunpowder.

__________________________________

The rest had been fairly simply after the resulting explosion. He had, after all, been planning this for quite some time now. He had made sure that he was far enough away to receive minor injuries but was ultimately unharmed. The cadaver was placed near enough to mayhem that death would have been an immediate result.

The story he gave the agency and the law enforcement was that he and (h/n) had been ambushed by mayhem, not giving them enough time to contact anyone. They had both worked together to take him down and handcuffed him after knocking him out, Endeavor then proceeded to contact the agency. After that mayhem woke up and used a suicide technique, blowing himself up. Endeavor had been far enough away to survive but (h/n) had unfortunately been too close.

He played the part of the upset hero well. Made the people believe that he was angry at himself for being unable to save you.

The medical team that gathered the fake body had been paid off by enji. As had the person who performed the autopsy. And the doctor he had take a look at your injuries in his home. He had taken every measure to pull this off and it finally came to fruition. The papers hailed you as a tragic death, the life of a promising and brave hero ended too soon. You family, friends, and fans mourned you.

You were finally all his.

[lunafeather]

9 for the kiss prompts?

Hey I don’t know if you saw that I posted my response to this on AO3 (I was taking a break from tumblr at the time!), so I totally forgot to answer this ask and shit, I hope you saw it on AO3.... I’ll post it here, too, just to be safe haha

9. Fuck You Kiss

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

It becomes a routine:

Put the kids to bed, stay up prepping their lunches for the next day, entertain Dean until he finally collapses onto their air mattress, then sneak out when he’s dead asleep.

She usually drives to Boland Bubbles in silence, her mind whirring, picturing the numbers in her head and rearranging them in a way that’s believable, but profitable, in a way that her husband won’t catch on -- not for a long while, anyway.

The parking lot is empty as she pulls in, the building ominously dark. She knows its dumb, but she wedges her keys between her fingers anyway as she leaves her car and treks to the employee side entrance and lets herself in. The motion sensor lights flicker on as she makes her way down the hallway, peeking into the warehouse to make sure it all looks kosher, doing the same with the break room and then the mood room, her eyes sweeping through the one pink tinted light they leave on for good luck, and she’s just about to turn away --

She screams when she notices the shadow looming in the corner of the room, hands in its pockets, seemingly staring into the hot tub they always have filled for customers to test out before buying.

Rio meanders closer, into the light, and Beth should have known it was him, of course it’s him, it’s always him. Still, she presses her palm to her chest, against the harsh thudding of her heart.

His eyes track the movement with interest.

“What the hell are you doing here?” she hisses.

He smirks, that dumb, handsome, terrible and infuriating smirk. “That any way to greet your boss?”

Beth rolls her eyes and stalks away, not waiting for him. He won’t answer her, and he’ll eventually follow her to the office planted in the center of the show room. She doesn’t have the time nor the patience to entertain him.

He appears in the doorway a few minutes later, leaning his hip against the frame, and she has to resist the urge to look up from the papers in front of her to properly take him in -- but she can see him in her peripheral, sees the black beanie tugged low over his ears, the charcoal grey button up shrouded by the black coat with the one white button hole, the loose black jeans and the black and white sneakers.

He’s found a color scheme he likes and stuck with it, and she can respect that -- her brain chooses to focus on this thought instead of the overwhelming surge of want that flows through her, the frustration prickling at her skin -- frustration with everything that’s happened between them, frustration with this business not being hers, not really , frustration with how fucking beautiful he is. He’s taken to sporting a full beard lately, trimming it instead of shaving, and it drives her to distraction when they’re in the same room together, many times Rio just staring at her while she tries to fight the blush at the memory of that beard against her thighs, of her fingernails running through it.

The worst part is that she’s convinced he knows exactly what it does to her.

All of this lust, all of this attraction, had been a lot easier to keep at bay when she was convinced he was going to kill her at any moment, reap his revenge with three matching holes -- his and hers -- blasted in her body, and when she was consumed with the desperation for survival, convinced she needed to get rid of him first to save herself.

This stalemate of theirs makes it too easy to slip.

So she ignores him.

She can feel him smiling at her.

Still, she’s the first to break the silence.

“How did you get in?”

Rio shrugs, doesn’t answer.

She didn’t really expect one anyway.

“You worried about bein’ all alone in this big warehouse in the middle of the night, baby?”

He smiles when she glares at him.

“Maybe if you told me how you got in, I’d be able to keep the place more secure.”

His eyes are dark, framed by those thick, long lashes. “Nah, where’s the fun in that?” he murmurs.

They stare at each other for a moment.

“Well, if you didn’t need anything, I’ve got some work to --”

“Why you keep coming here at this hour anyway, Elizabeth?”

Her brows furrow. “How did you --”

He tilts his head, gives her a look.

“Are you still having me followed?” she splutters.

He shrugs again, faux nonchalant, sticking his lower lip out and then pursing his lips.

“I thought we moved past that.”

“Oh, what, you think I’m s’posed to trust you, after everything?”

Beth tips her chin in defiance. “I mean, I did bring you this idea--”

A bark of laughter, devoid of amusement. “Nah, sweetheart, that’s not how it works and you know it.”

Her mouth settles into a hard line, and she lets her expression go blank. “Fine. But if that’s all --”

“You never answered my question.”

She can’t help it, she squawks, indignant. “I’m sorry, when the hell have you ever answered --”

“Why you keep comin’ here in the middle of the night?”

“Will you let me speak?” She’s not proud of losing her temper, never likes to let her emotions slip around him, especially not now, so she balls her hands into fists in her lap and tries to channel her anger into them.

Rio watches her, waits for her to say something else, but she doesn’t have anything else, was mostly annoyed at him cutting her off. His eyebrows hit his hairline.

“Oh, that it?” He takes three long, slow steps towards her, his fingers sliding along the edge of her desk -- well, Dean’s desk, but just for now, just until she can wiggle her way in -- stopping at the corner and leaning over it, hands splayed. “Cause I thought maybe you were gonna tell me why you sneakin’ around your business, fudgin’ numbers. Why your husband still thinks he runnin’ the game and callin’ the shots.”

Beth swallows. “I told you, it’s going to take some time for me to convince him to let me handle the books. He can’t know you’re involved, or he’ll --”

“He’ll what?” Rio sneers. “Go runnin’ to the cops, the FBI? He still refusin’ to see you’re the one who bossed up and pays the bills, huh? Guess what, darlin’, I shot him once, nothin’ stoppin’ me from doing it again.”

She’s not sure what reaction he’s expecting, but she has a feeling that her cool indifference isn’t it. He squints at her.

“If you let me take care of him, it won’t come to that.”

“I ain’t got time for you to try to pussy whip your dumbass husband --”

“Excuse me?”

“You should be pullin’ in way more cash than you are, so I’ma need you to stop gaggin’ on Dean’s dick and get your shit together --”

She’s up and in his face before she realizes what she’s doing, jabbing her finger into his chest. “How dare you!”

Rio snatches her hand and holds it away from them both. “Don’t.”

His voice is rough, a warning, but she doesn’t catch it, blinded by her fury.

“You don’t know anything about my marriage, about what I’ve had to do, what I’ve had to sacrifice!” Flailing wildly, she yanks her hand from his and goes onto her toes to get onto his eye level, waving her hand in his face and prodding him again.

“Elizabeth,” he growls.

“I will not let you degrade me, or treat me like --”

And then his mouth is on hers, effectively shutting her up. The kiss is rough, angry, desperate and filthy -- Rio’s hands cup her ass and lift her onto the desk, then slide up her back to mold her body against his, her breasts wedged against his chest and spilling out over her v-neck sweater. Beth wails into his mouth and clings to his shoulders as he steps between her thighs. He ravages her mouth, alternating rubbing his tongue against hers and sucking on it. She sinks her teeth into his lower lip hard enough that she thinks she tastes blood, and he groans and twists his fingers into her hair to yank her head back and expose her throat.

“You think about my tongue in your mouth when you kiss him, mama?” he says against her skin, sucking a hickey below her ear.

She scratches her fingernails against his scalp, helpless in his arms and writhing against him. One of his palms lowers to her ass to hold her in place, not allowing her to seek out any friction.

“You close your eyes and pretend its my cock fillin’ you up, makin’ you beg?”

Beth moans as his voice vibrates against her ear, pleasure singing down her neck and across her shoulders, threading through her spine and pooling at her tailbone. He grinds his hips into hers, and she can feel how turned on he is.

“He can’t make you come like I can, huh, baby? Gotta wait til he’s passed out and touch yourself, but your fingers aren’t enough, are they? Can’t reach inside you the way mine can.”

Those fingers clench in her hair, forcing her eyes open to meet his stare, his eyes dark fathomless, drawing her in and smothering her. She tries to lean forward, to kiss him again, but he keeps her still.

“He ain’t me,” he growls. The words tumble out from his lowest register, like he pried them from deep within himself, from a place he never lets see light, dripping with possessiveness and pride, and maybe even hurt.

She shakes her head. “He’s not you.”

Almost like he doesn’t want to hear it, like he’s already said too much, revealed too much, he crushes his mouth to hers again, and this kiss feels like a punishment and a plea. Beth lets it consume her.

And just like that, he’s releasing her, both of them panting as he steps back, putting some space between them and looking at her like she’s hexxed him, woven a spell to lure him, tempt him. And then the mask is back in place.

“You got a week to get your husband in line,” he says as he wipes their spit from his chin with his sleeve. He turns to leave, but stops in the doorway and looks over his shoulder. “And you better get a gun if you gonna be spending this much time here alone. Need to protect yourself.”

She arches an eyebrow at the implication under those words, that she needs to protect herself from him.

Beth’s got a feeling that his intentions are a little less murderous and a lot more carnal.

“Aren’t you afraid I’ll empty the clip this time?”

His responding grin is slow, feral, like he’d been hoping she’d say that.

“Nah.”

And then he’s gone.

[tinalbion]

So because you all had me THIRSTY as hell this evening, I decided that I needed to let out a little pent up frustration, and it involves Freddy, so have fun reading, my lovelies~ 

It’s past 1am, I’m sick and I’m dying, don’t judge me. Fem reader, dirty things. I am terrible.

You had a hell of a time sleeping tonight and you couldn’t exactly pinpoint why. It was hotter than hell in your room, even with your fan on full blast, it was just scorching hot to the point where any contact with your blankets made you sweat. Maybe it was the amount of caffeine you had in your system and the second wind of energy you had as soon as your head hit the pillow. Whatever it was, you weren’t at all happy with your inability to calm your mind.

Scrolling on your phone wasn’t doing much either, that is until you came upon a video on a questionable website that you really didn’t mean to go on, but your increasing sexual drive wasn’t really helping. You normally didn’t watch videos like this so late at night, but due to not being around your new dream man lately had put a damper on things and you needed to do something about it. 

As you played the video and lowered the volume, you couldn’t help but imagine that was him doing those things to you, only you knew how he would be much rougher with his actions. Your eyes widened as the couple began to take things even further, and you craved to know how it felt, you needed to know if Freddy would take you like that. Your eyes fluttered for a moment as you felt the sensation tingle up your spine, your heat beginning to throb, needing to feel his touch. Sure, you had only dreamt of him a few times, but damn he made your knees buckle like no one else could, and you imagined him taking you against that grimy wall in your dream. Without thinking, you moaned out his name, saying it like it was a sin, so quiet that no one else could hear you.

The video progressed, their sounds getting louder and more hungry, then you began to make similar noises, biting your lip whenever you felt the need to scream. While you lay there, you had no idea that you had fallen asleep, the transition to the dream world wasn’t noticeable to you at all, so you definitely had no idea that Freddy was watching you with hungry eyes from the shadows, watching as your hand dipped beneath the soft fabric of your panties to rub circles against yourself. You were already soaked as you heard the skin slapping from the video, the wet and sticky sounds echoing in your mind as you envisioned Freddy bending your pretty self over and taking what he wanted. 

What would he do with those blades, you wondered, as he would look you up and down as you were presented like a juicy dinner platter spread out for him. Would he slip his fingers into your dripping cunt while gently scraping a bladed finger up your bare thigh, hearing a mixed moan of pleasure and pain? Or would he immediately go in for the kill and ram himself into you, making sure with every hard thrust he would tell you you’re a dirty fucking girl and you were his.  

More sounds came from the video, their screams and moans playing loudly as you laid back and allowed yourself to get lost in the ecstasy of your thoughts. What snapped you back into reality was the sudden dip in your mattress, the feeling of someone getting onto the bed with you as you were so vulnerable. Your eyes snapped open to see him there, hovering above you with a look of pure animalistic pleasure on his face. Your cheeks reddened but before you could even try to explain the situation, he grabbed your hand and pulled it away from your throbbing heat. 

“Getting the party started without me, huh?” he growled as his face inched closer toward you, his eyes not once leaving yours. He darted his tongue out and slid it against your inner thigh as a test to see how you’d react, and he took your loud gasp and shaking body to as a sign that you were more than ready for him. “Look at you, so fucking wet already and you barely got started.”

You didn’t expect him to appear so suddenly but you definitely weren’t going to complain. You had dreamt of this happening; him dominating you and taking you like you were his personal fuck toy. But he saw you as more than that, you knew that of course, though it was fun to think otherwise. 

“F-Freddy, I-” you tried to speak to him, but he slid two fingers within you as he glared down at you, licking his lips while he watched your mouth hang open from the sudden experience. 

“Oh, so wet and so tight, too.” The sounds coming from the back of his throat were none you had ever heard before, but fuck, you could have come just by hearing them alone, to hell with the rest. 

Speaking was not in your future, you could only make small whimpers or sharp intakes of breath, he was that good with only two fingers. You were riding out the high until you felt him slip them out, your body tensing from the sudden stop of pleasure. You looked up at him with desperation plastered all over your face, but it quickly changed once you saw him lick your juices clean from his fingers. The desire to pull him close and demand that he fuck you was strong, but you were willing to let him do all the talking tonight and do to you what he would. 

“Is this what you do in your spare time, huh, Y/N? Watching others get fucked? Is this what you want me to do?” He slapped your phone off the bed, the sound of the video still playing as he slid a blade over his pants button and sliced it off, his obvious hard-on peeking through as he shifted until he stood tall. His pants were already gone before you could even bring yourself to look up at him, and he grabbed you so roughly yet left no cuts or inflicted no pain, he just needed to position you better. 

The sight of you on your knees with your ass raised up to him was a delicious view, especially since he could see your obvious excitement dripping down your leg. This was something he had thought about often but couldn’t find it within himself to initiate, that is until he heard his name on your lips. He had thought about your lips often, too, mainly screaming his name while repeatedly slamming into you. He’d make that dream a reality for you both.

There was no warning when he had slid himself into you, your walls immediately closing in around his hard cock, drawing out his own breathy moan. Freddy took a moment to just enjoy the overwhelming feeling of his swollen cock being smothered by your pussy. His gloved hand rested on your hip while you slowly began to back your ass against him, causing him to push deeper within you. 

Freddy chuckled as his other hand reached out and groped your breast. “I bet you wanted this for so long, wanted to feel my cock fuck you until you couldn’t move. Tell old Uncle Freddy what you want.” His voice was gravelly as he bucked his hips against your ass, his skin slapping against yours, causing your eyes to roll up and a pathetic whimper to escape your throat. 

He began to pound into you while his hand slid its way up toward your mouth, slipping a finger past your lips as he had a firm grasp on you. His blades poked and prodded your skin, but the warm feeling of your blood trickling down your thigh was not your focus. Your hands bunched up the fabric of the sheets as you anchored yourself onto the mattress while he fucked you mercilessly, all while settling into a rhythm that hit your spot perfectly with every smack of his hips. At this point, you couldn’t even make a sound, you just wanted him to fuck you until you went limp. The fire building in your core was growing every second, the desire to reach your breaking point growing along with it as you fought to catch your breath. 

A strangled moan rang out as you had fallen forward, your ass still in the air while Freddy continued to fuck you, your damp hair sticking to your sweaty face while you screamed his name that was muffled by the blankets. You begged him and called out for him to go harder and faster until you saw an explosion of lights behind your closed eyes, your walls tightened around him as you rode your orgasm as far as you possibly could. You couldn’t help it as your body shivered while Freddy continued, but his uneven thrusts against you signaled that he was about to follow suit, then you felt him burst within you, his cum filling you up so much that it poured out and cascaded down your leg as soon as he pulled himself out slightly. 

You could finally catch your breath as you lay there, sweating and panting as your body collapsed, your mind cloudy while your breathing evened. Somehow, you managed enough strength to push your face off the bed and watch the dream demon grin at you with a glint in his eyes, his hand slowly stroking himself as he kneeled on the edge of the bed.

“If you think I was done with you, you’re sorely mistaken.”

[the-darklings]

you breath in when i exhale;

pairing: arthur morgan x female!reader

summary: A hushed breath, a rumble of thunder, and suddenly you wanted to give him your whole heart.

word count: 4.1k+ (chill? never heard of her)

warnings: undertones of angst but FLUFF...can you believe?

notes: joke’s on me because clearly more than 5 people cared about my first Arthur fic, and I’m already in too deep so lets indulge folks. also, this man deserves happiness~

tagging: the demons who got me into this mess in the first place: @ilikecheesecakeforbreakfast & @deviantramblings. and the beautiful @sunstrain who has that good taste.

. . .

There was nothing to fear.

Not really.

It was childish and silly to fear something like this, considering the company you kept. The people you surrounded yourself with, shared food and space with, weren’t exactly the nicest around. But perhaps there was something a little rotten in you too if you had managed to fall in with them as smoothly as you did.

It was stupid to fear something as simple as a thunderstorm though.

Especially considering you were in the storm season and rain came often and heavily, accompanied by gusts of strong wind that made your rickety tent appear even more pathetic with every blow. You couldn't help but think your makeshift home was about to be ripped out of the ground and flown off to the next state at any second. Lenny might have helped you to build it and secure it to the ground—and you certainly trusted him enough to know he did a well-done job of it—but the ridiculous fear still remained.

Lightning flashed outside, the boom of thunder crashing through the sky before you managed to get to the count of two.

Your eyes squeezed, your heart hammering loudly in your ears as you pressed your forehead harsher against your knees. The storm was close—too close—and you felt a shiver crawl up your spine as yet another gust of wind slammed against the side of your tent, making the material blow inwards.

You raised your head, your breaths shallow and strained while you looked towards the outside. The flaps of your tent refused to shut properly and you watched dully as rain pelted down, soaking everything in its path. The camp was quiet, everyone huddled in their tents and wagons, seeking shelter from the freezing rain. Only Javier and Arthur were away from the camp as far as you knew, busy running their own errands.

Selfishly, you wished Arthur was here. Something about his presence always made you feel braver, sharper, like you could step outside of yourself and accomplish anything you put your mind to. Even when storms hit, if he was in the camp, you at least managed to last through the worst of it without feeling like your guts were going to crawl up your throat.

But you also refused to rely on him, especially for something as foolish as this. He was a hardened outlaw. You had half a thought that even if you told him he would laugh at you. From all the things to fear in this world, thunder seemed like the last thing one would put on the list.

Another flash lit up the sky and the crack of thunder was so deafening, you had to muffle a strangled whimper in the space between your knees. Your hands trembled when you pressed them over your ears, trying to smother the sound of the raging storm outside. The dull roar of it was still audible, but with your eyes closed, you could almost pretend you were somewhere else. Somewhere safe.

But then—

A blur of sounds that got drowned by the echo of wind and rain. Despite your desire to stay in your makeshift darkness, your hands lowered, allowing the full blast of the storm to flood your ears again.

“—ya in ‘ere?”

“Arthur?” was your faint, confused whisper.

Your misty eyes slowly moved to the entrance of the tent where you could just make out a tall shape standing. The only thing you could recognise was the tip of Arthur’s boots; the same ones he always liked wearing best. You could still recall going with him and Charles when they went shopping and originally bought the pair. There were only a few occasions you could recall laughing as much as you did that afternoon. It held a special place in your heart ever since.

“I’m—I’m in here!” you quickly called when you saw Arthur turn away.

Practically flying out of your cot, you hurriedly wiped at your damp eyes, pulling the tent flap back to reveal a soaking Arthur.

Droplets of water fell from his hat, and even his heavy coat looked in a particularly sorry state. The rain had only intensified since the storm started, now falling so intensely, it was hard to see the rest of the camp.  

“Sorry, I ain’t botherin’ ya, right?” Arthur questioned, taking a few steps closer when you stepped back, quickly ushering him inside. “I normally won’t impose on you like ‘his but your tent was the nearest to ‘his side of the camp. I’ll be out of ya way as soon as this damn rain lets up.”

“It alright, Mr Morgan,” you muttered, flinching as another rumble of thunder echoed through the camp and surrounding forest. “You never impose. You’re always welcome. Please, sit.”

With a grateful nod, Arthur sat down on a spare chair you kept in your tent, water trailing after him. You hurried towards your clothing chest, rummaging till you found a dry fabric he could use to dry himself off. He took it with another grateful dip of his chin, pulling off his heavy coat and draping it over your chair. Underneath his coat, he appeared to be mercifully dry at least.

“Well the weather is shit,” Arthur spoke bluntly, rubbing his neck with the cloth. Despite your nerves and the queasy roll of your stomach, you couldn't help the startled laugh that slipped past your lips as you sat down in front of him. You laced your fingers nervously in your lap, your knee jerking up with every louder noise outside. “Can’t do nothin’ when it’s like this.”

“Didn’t finish?” you asked softly, noting his irritated glance outside, “I’m sure it’s fine.”

Arthur nodded absentmindedly, “Yeah, guess Mr Downes will have to wait his turn, won’t he? Poor bastard,” he joked with a slight quirk of his lips that made your breath hitch for a brief second.

Arthur Morgan was easily the most confusing man you had ever met.

And the most wonderful.  

And the most dangerous.

He was a collection of contradictions you could not unravel no matter how hard you tried.

There was the merciless—the downright ruthless—side of him. The side that found a home in chaos, and moved through rivers of blood like it was holy ground. That managed to be subtly terrifying, and even more brutally efficient with his fists and revolver. A face you knew people had nightmares over, who had blood on his hands because survival required it.

But there was also a side of him you only ever saw around his friends—family, Dutch would say you were a family—that stole your breath away. The low, patient tone he always used with little Jack. The way he always cared and helped those who asked his help, no matter how much he might grumble about it first. How fiercely loyal he was to Dutch, and how unflinchingly he was always prepared to do whatever it took to protect everyone in the camp.

You saw how much he cared about his horse, how he scribbled away for hours on end in his journal. You had even caught glimpses of his drawings before. Subtle and simple, yet so beautifully elegant in portraying the raw beauty of whatever he was trying to capture.

You couldn't understand him.

And you didn’t realise till too late just how dangerous your fascination with him was.

You didn't, in fact, realise your feelings of respect and friendship had morphed into affection till you heard Mary-Beth talking about him in hushed whispers to Gilly.

Jealousy bloomed in the pit of your stomach then, and you had been horrified to realise that somewhere along the way the enigma that was Arthur Morgan, had become...important.

No matter how hard you tried to hold yourself back, your eyes always sought out his regnant frame and intent blue eyes first. You didn’t want to be Mary-Beth though. Didn’t want to love him because tying your heart to a dream could never end well. Not to mention the fact that no matter how much you had seen others try in the past, Arthur never allowed anyone close.    

He had never taken a lover in the time you had known him. Or at least none that he shared with others. Though you had heard on several occasions how much others—namely Micah and Sean—mocked him for it.

Arthur was handsome, incredibly so, so it wasn’t for the lack of willing participants, you knew. He simply didn’t allow anyone near that heart of his. And he did have one—you knew he did.

No one could care so much and be heartless.

Maybe one day someone was going to find a way to see into him, to get past his walls and love him for him; contradictions and all.

But—

A loud boom erupted from outside and you jerked up, your eyes flying towards the entrance of the tent, your heart in your throat as your fingers clenched into tight fists.

“You alright there?” Arthur’s curious question almost made you jump again, and your eyes skipped towards his slouched figure. Confusion and something else—something you couldn't put your finger on—lingered in his expression as he regarded you earnestly. “No offence, but ya look ready to keel over.”

“I’m fine,” you hastily shot back, your words unconvincing and tone weak. “It’s—it’s all fine, Mr Morgan.”

Arthur regarded you critically for a second before he leaned back, still staring at you. For a long, tense moment he was silent before something like understanding flickered over his features and you noticed the slow, tight curling of his fingers before they relaxed.

“Is Micah botherin’ you again?” he asked seriously. His words were soft but there was something chilling about the stilted calmness of his tone. “He do somethin’? Miss (Name), I told ya before, if he ever—”

“He didn’t do nothin’, promise,” you quickly interrupted, breaking his fierce stare. “It’s just...hey, I thought I asked you to call me (Name)?”

Arthur’s jaw clenched briefly before he nodded his head, finally looking away, “Ya sure did. But I also recall askin’ you to call me Arthur, no? Now stop changin’ the subject.”

A part of you urged to tell him while another whispered that it was silly and not worth his time. Sure, you were friends but most days he felt just as unreachable to you as you saw him be to others.

“I didn’t sleep last night, that’s all,” you told him with a strained smile. “So I’m a bit tense today.”

Arthur’s eyes were hard and searching while he regarded you grimly, almost like he was trying to judge the honesty of your words. “That so? Why was you not sleepin’ then?”

Because another storm hit a few hours after midnight and prevented you from sleeping. Instead, you had curled in your quilt and shivered the rest of your night away. You wanted to say it but the moment you tried to voice your feelings, they died on your tongue.

The chair creaked slightly and you lifted your head only to see Arthur standing to his full height. Wind and rain still raged outside, only adding to the already tense atmosphere. You knew your tent was small but Arthur always seemed larger than life, effortlessly filling the empty crevices with his presence.

He took a step towards you, and you didn’t realise the distance between you was so small until he dropped the fabric you gave him on your cot and crouched before you. The previous quiet amusement was gone from his face, leaving something more serious in its place. It was hard to meet his gaze when he was looking at you like this, when he was so close you could almost feel his body heat. His skin was still damp, one side of his face illuminated by the dim lamplight as he stared up at you.

“Whatever it is (Name), ya can—”

Arthur’s next words were interrupted by the most vicious crack of thunder yet, the brief flash of lightning blinding you for a second. A gasp of fear escaped you, your shoulders dipping and heart galloping madly in your chest. It beat so fast you were worried it was going to burst right out of you. But the dryness of your throat made it impossible to do anything other than to let out a weak croak of terror.

“Woah, hey,” Arthur’s deep voice sliced through the sickening fear, and you felt his larger hands settle over yours, stilling your shaking fingers. “You’re fine. It’s just a bit of silly—oh.”

Under different circumstances, you would have laughed over the expression of awkward understanding dawning on his face. Arthur exhaled slowly before glancing away, and you felt mortification fill you. Of course, someone like him would find this sort of thing completely idiotic.

“It’s f-fine,” you forced out with a wobbly grin, “I know it’s stupid. You can laugh it up now.”

Arthur grunted under his breath, the noise soft and contemplative before he looked up at you again, the intensity of those blue eyes making the forced smile on your lips die.

“Fear is fear,” he pointed out simply, voice almost cautious and you wondered where his hesitation was coming from. “It don’t matter what ya fear, it’s still awful. Everyone is afraid of somethin’.”

You couldn't help the disbelieving scoff that escaped you, “You don’t fear anythin’.”

His lips quirked slightly to one side, accenting the smooth curve of his mouth, “Sure I do,” he disagreed easily, his hands on yours tightening briefly when another crash of thunder echoed. “I fear lots of things. Ya just learn how to control that fear, use it as fuel, let it forge somethin’ better.”

“Yeah? What if there’s nothin’ better there?” you whispered, your eyes almost fluttering shut when you felt the warmth of his fingers starting to seep into your own. “I ain’t brave like you.”

He shook his head a little, the slight curve of his lips remaining, “Well that, I oughta disagree with. You’re plenty brave. Hell, I’ve seen it. Bravery ain’t as simple as shootin’ a gun (Name). Ya fear storms...so? Big deal.”

“It’s silly,” you pointed out feebly, cringing at another distant rumble. “I feel like an idiot if I tell anyone.”

“If it matters to ya, it ain’t silly,” he said, this time with a certain firmness in his voice that made you look down towards your lap. You knew he meant what he said but instead of relief, you felt a different kind of longing. Not for bravery but for him instead. “You remember that, hm?”

“Yeah,” you whispered softly and closed your eyes when Arthur removed his hands from yours.

Your digits trembled and you missed his soothing warmth instantly, trying not to look at him while you contemplated the possibility that this might have been a huge mistake. It would have been better to suffer in silence the way you always did, and not create another situation in which Arthur proved that his heart was bigger than he would ever care to admit. It just made it that much harder not to love him.

Arthur himself was quiet for a minute, and you silently wondered why he was still here. Why he hadn’t moved away or left. The rain was coming down deafeningly loud, washing out any other noise except the thud of your heart.

“Tell ya what,” Arthur began, and you glanced up at his voice, “It’s gettin’ pretty late so you get some rest and I’ll watch over ya, make sure nothin’ happens, yeah? Because frankly, ya look terrible.”

Your lips parting in shock, you immediately whacked his arm in outrage, “Arthur! You don’t just say somethin’ like that to someone!”

The man in front of you laughed, the deep rumble of his baritone washing over you and making you grin despite yourself. He had a nice laugh and you wished desperately he had more occasions to smile and laugh over. It suited him, made him look even more handsome than he already was, and it was hard not to wish that crooked grin never left his face.

“Ah, ‘here we go,” he murmured faintly, eyebrows rising while he leaned one arm on his knee, “That’s much better.”

Your smile faltered slightly as you stared at him, but the barely-there curl of your lips remained. Warmth bubbled in your chest, spreading all across your limbs and you wondered, then, if the day would ever come when you didn’t adore him. If maybe one day you'll be able to look at him and not feel like a complete fool.

A hushed breath, a rumble of thunder, and suddenly you wanted to give him your whole heart.

But you didn't want to lose him. Didn’t want to burden him with feelings you knew he was never going to return. And if by some miracle he did return them, you sincerely doubted you were a risk he would be willing to take.

He believed himself to be too far gone, too broken and ruined by life.

He believed himself so ugly that he didn’t see how much beauty remained.

His hands were far from clean, but they were his hands. And perhaps there really was a rotten thing inside you too if you didn’t mind them holding yours.

“C’mon then, ‘et some rest,” he said after a lull of quiet between you as he stood up and motioned towards the cot. “It sounds like the storm is headin’ east. Should pass within an hour at ‘his rate.”

Arthur walked towards the chair and sat down stiffly, grabbing his hat and giving it a stern shake. Droplets of water hit the ground and you continued peering at him dumbly.

“You’re not leavin’?” you asked weakly, a part of you still in disbelief he didn’t throw your childish fear back in your face. “You—you don’t have to stay. I’m sure you ‘ave better things you oughta be doin’.”

Arthur adjusted himself on the chair, plopping the hat back on his head while his hand settled on his belt. He glanced at you from under the brim, lips quirking upwards. “It can wait,” he answered shortly, “Now sleep.”

He stretched his legs out in front of him, dipping his head downwards and you gaped at him mutely. From the relaxed sag of his shoulders, you couldn't help but conclude that he was certainly planning on staying and watching over you till the storm passed.

The thought made something in your heart bleed with happiness and you looked away, biting your lip to control the happy smile that was threatening to split across your face.

Pulling back your scratchy quilt, you laid down—clothes and all because the damp made it too chilly to change into undergarments most nights—and dragged the scratchy material around your shoulders. The storm was still going strong outside, though just like Arthur had said earlier, it appeared to be heading away from the camp now.

Your eyes flickered towards the man himself who looked to be asleep, although you had no real way of knowing without checking. Your chair was small though—small and uncomfortable, and you were surprised he managed to find any comfort on it at all. The powerful set of his shoulders filled the space, making everything else appear even smaller. And while it wasn’t the first time Arthur had been inside your little home, it was certainly the first time he stayed while you rested.

A gust of violent wind battered the side of the tent, making you grit your teeth and shiver under your thin quilt. You curled tighter, burying your nose in the fuzzy material while your eyes remained focused on Arthur’s still figure.

There was something intimate about seeing him in your space like this; unguarded and exposed, yet so perfectly at ease. You knew he was a light sleeper despite what he had others believing. One had to be in a world you lived in.

“I can hear ya shiverin’ from over ‘ere,” Arthur spoke suddenly and you jumped, immediately dropping your eyes to the floor. You felt the weight of his gaze on you but kept your own on the ground. “Why do ya only have one quilt?”

“B-Because...Jack gets real cold durin’ the nights so I gave him my spare one,” you confessed, briefly letting your eyes meet his. Something like disbelief reflected back at you before Arthur cleared his throat, briefly scrubbing at the stubble on his face. “I know it ain’t the wisest thing to do.”

“Yer damn right it ain’t,” Arthur groused, standing up and approaching your cot. His jaw clicked and he sighed again, expression oddly troubled. “You do realise that kid has parents, right? Scoot.”

You stared at him blankly. “What?”

“If ya get sick ‘cause you gave your quilt away, you’re never gonna hear the end of it,” he pointed out, motioning with his hand for you to move. “Now I much rather that don’t happen. Ya have my word I’m not tryin’ to do anythin’—”

“I know,” you interrupted him gently, scooting back as far as you could to make him space. “Your honour is the last thing I would question around ‘ere, trust me.”

Arthur sat down with a grunt, and the cot creaked for a second, both of you holding your breaths to see if you were about to end up on the ground. He shifted carefully around before lying down on his side, facing you.

It was hard to keep your expression neutral when his face was so close to yours. Your cot had always been small but with Arthur’s broad frame occupying the space as well, it was even smaller. Unnervingly so. Small to the point it was hard not to feel your breaths mingling, hard not to stare at his bare collarbone which was visible due to his slightly unbuttoned shirt.

It was even harder to ignore the heat of his body and the earthy, heady scent of him.

“Ya alright? If you’re uncomfortable—”

“I’m fine.”

Arthur stared down at you gravely while you tried to steady your breathing, “I don’t wanna ya to think that I’m using your vulnerability for some ulterior motive.”

“You won’t,” you told him softly, focusing on a button of his shirt even though you could feel his eyes fixed on you. “I know ya think you’re this awful man doomed for damnation but you ain’t. God knows you ain’t innocent but that don’t mean you’re evil either. I’ve met evil men before Arthur Morgan and you ain’t one of ‘em. I see it every day, ya know, the good in you? Hosea always says that actions say more than words anyway,” you finished, taking a tentative peek at his expression.

Arthur’s features hardened, and you could feel the strain in his body, in the way the silence that followed your words felt more potent than your fear.

“(Name)—”

A bright flash, and another clap of thunder hit, causing you to practically jump out of your skin. Your wide eyes flew around the tent, checking if you hadn't been hit no matter how foolish it was. If the lightning had hit, you doubted you would be alive right now.

A warm weight settled on your shoulder firmly, tugging you closer and you willingly sagged against the encompassing warmth.

“Hey, shh. You’re safe.”

He was warm.

You hadn’t realised just how cold you were under the quilt, till the simmering warmth of his body soaked through it, warming you from inside.

“Arthur—”

“Get ‘ome sleep (Name),” his voice was a quiet rumble, and you felt his hot breath brush against the top of your head, causing a tingle to race down your spine. “I’ll—just rest.”

Your mind was too fuzzy from fatigue and you were so warm, soaking in the comfort you hadn’t expected to receive. Arthur’s hand settled between your shoulder blades and you smiled sleepily into his chest. Always the gentleman.

“Arthur?”

He hesitated in answering, and you almost lost yourself to sleep before you heard a faint, “Yeah?”

This was the safest you had ever felt. The most respected and cared for too.

“Thank you.”

He didn’t answer but you didn’t expect him to. Arthur rarely responded to genuine gratitude the way others did. Nevertheless, you still wanted him to know how much his patience and comfort meant to you. You hadn’t expected it—not at all—so you were going to make sure he knew it.

Lost somewhere between awareness and sleep, you could have sworn you heard a soft whisper of his voice one last time.

“You’re a goddamn fool, Arthur Morgan. A goddamn fool.”

. . .

an: so i’m not totally happy with this but I still hope you guys liked it :’))

[oneeffie]

A Spark

A Spark

By: Emma Sinclaire & Line Svensson

“Sometimes we have to do what we don’t want to do.” That is what my mother would tell me when I objected to going to school as a kid. I wanted to stay at home or go to my mother’s job and do things than be there. But every time, without fail, when my mother said this phrase I promptly grabbed my bag and went to school. I knew the story behind her saying that. I’d only heard it once, in the midst of one of her few drunken moments, but that was enough.

We live in the country of Panem, in a place called the Capitol, which is the heart and soul of the country, or so I’ve been (I’d been) told. The districts surrounding the Capitol was there to bring nourishment to us. It is a place of beauty and luxury. Supposedly the greatest place on earth. But if it’s so great, how could the events in my mother’s life be possible? My mother didn’t have a lot of money growing up, and even less when she got into her adult life. Before she had gotten the job at “Intexui” she had struggled to get by, taking odd jobs here and there, just to make ends meet. But that’s when things changed for the worse.

42 ADD

She had walked up the entrance of a big mansion. There was a party going on inside and she was demanded to be there. As she knocked on the door the head of the house opened it.

“Ah, there you are. You must be the lovely lady my colleague was so kind as to send us”, he said while he had a malicious smile on his face. She could feel her pulse into her fingertips. She had been terrified to her very core, but what was she supposed to do? When they had seen you, they had seen you. When they wanted you, they wanted you. There was no going back, and she couldn’t afford to lose everything. She plastered on the bravest face she could, smiled slightly and walked through the front door. As she walked in, he put his arm around her waist, and he guided her around the house. As they walked into the backyard, she could see there was a small party gathered. Most of them were women, but they all had the same look on their face as she did.

“Look, fellas! Pontius sent us another gorgeous one!”, said the homeowner as he let go of her waist and made his way to the couch in the middle of the yard and picked up his purple-tinted drink. Everyone eyed her like she was a piece of meat that was up for sale.

“She truly is a beaut. What’s your name sweetheart?”, said one of the men as he poured himself another drink.

“Anya”, she replied.

“That is a beautiful name.”, said a voice behind her. The man came around so she could see him. He was a generically attractive man. Average height, olive skin, short clipped curly hair that had been dyed into a silver color and with silvery lips to match. He was wearing a neon green colored suit that had feathers around the sleeves. A very typical outfit for someone in the Capitol. When she looked into his eyes, she tried to look for some kind of warmth in them. There was none to be found. Her heart was beating faster now. She had never been this scared before. But she knew again that there was nothing to do. She had heard it wasn’t as bad if you didn’t resist it.

“Caiaphas! You’re here. Great now the party can really get started. We were just discussing this years Hunger Games. We think it’ll be a blast. Abimelech just told us that the arena this year will be in a woodland area, with all manner of poisonous animals,” a gentleman in a bright pink suit said. The man Abimelech turned his head towards them and smiled.

“You did hear that I’d been accepted as a part of the game maker group? We get all the details before it’s released to the public,” he said very proudly.

“I did hear. That is smashing! We expect to get a good show out of you then,” said Caiaphas. He took Anya by her arm and guided her to the yard, and there the gentlemen engaged in conversation until nightfall. The women, however, did their best at trying to fit in and being of service, but it was clear that they weren’t there for their conversational prowess.

The people eventually started trickling off from the conversation and Caiaphas put his hand on her leg.

“Let’s go,” he said with a very commanding and sharp voice. Then he stood up and grabbed her hand. As they walked off into the house and up the stairs Anya knew that her life would not be the same.

They had stripped her of her agency, and she had become just another part in their game. A game she couldn’t win. After a long and humiliating night, she took a car ride back home. Once she was in the car, she felt dirty and violated. She sobbed into the early hours of the morning. Never again, she thought. No matter what.

43 ADD

9 months later she was admitted into the hospital with intense pains coming from her abdomen. The time had come for her to deliver the baby. She had found out that she was pregnant just weeks after her horrid night in the mansion. She had, of course, tried to get in contact with him, as she liked to call him, her perpetrator, but she never saw or heard from him ever again. It was truly amazing what money could do. It could even make you invisible. I was born on January 8th and was taken home the day after to be raised by my mother alone.

49 ADD

My childhood passed me by without any event. I got up in the morning, ate, went with my mother to work and then home to eat and sleep. Same thing day in and day out. The thing that did change though was the love I had for my mother. It grew day by day as I saw her work her hardest, push herself to the limit with a constant smile on her bright face. The only time she broke from that smile was when someone asked about my father and in those lonely moments, she had by herself, in the late nights, sitting by the kitchen table with a glass of pungent spirits. When I turned six, I had worked up enough nerve to ask about my dad. She had turned around to me in the store and given me a defeated but stern look.

“Later,” she said. I had nodded and gotten back to drawing my undecipherable painting. In the evening, when we got home, she drank a whole bottle of a lemon-colored drink and sat in silence for about an hour before she started telling me the story. I could see how much every word hurt her, so I did my best to not ask more, and remember every word she said. When she finished, she grabbed another bottle, kissed me on my cheek and went to sit in the living room.

Life went on as normal after that, on the outside at least. There was, however, a battle that raged within me. Good versus evil. Right versus wrong. Things didn’t get any easier when I started school. I had always lived quite the secluded life with my mother. I never had many friends, and now I was being made to go and socialize with my peers. From day one I could tell they were very different from me. My general attitude was always a silent, cheery type. My classmates were, however, more, peculiar. They all had that strong Capitol accent which would just drive my mother up the wall sometimes. However, they made me curious. I wondered what their lives looked like. How did it differ from mine? What were their parents like? It would become more and more apparent over the years exactly how I was different, and nobody likes a person who breaks the status quo. But that’s the great thing. Sometimes we don’t just have to do things we don’t want to do, but we can actually do what we want. This thought would come to set deep roots within my heart and soul, and it would emerge years later.

50 ADD

I remember the first time I truly started to see the horrors the Capitol with my own eyes and understanding. Sometimes you see these events in hindsight and realize the horrors you witnessed or experienced. To me, that was the 50th Hunger Games. Double the tributes, double the celebration, and double the suffering.

Since there were twice as many participants, there was also twice the demand for the most extravagant garments for the celebrations. The fabrics store mother worked at, was, of course, booming in business due to this demand. During this time, my beautiful mother spent more time in the store, than she did at home. Her dark curly locks framed her almond-colored face,  illuminating her bright hazel iris with specks of gold. She was a true beauty amongst the flamboyant fashions and unnatural colors of the Capitol.

Like the brat I was, I blamed my mother for not making enough time for me in her day. Little did I know that she was constantly berated by demanding customers and blamed for errors that were no fault of her own, for several hours on end in order to keep the roof over our heads and the food in our bellies. She would come home, exhausted and immediately fall into bed and sleep, on most days. Sometimes I would hear an odd noise coming from her bedroom during nights, but only as an adult did I understand them to be smothered sobbing.

My favourite tribute this year was a tribute who wore one of my favourite fabrics from the store. When he answered a question regarding the 100% increase in tributes. He said he didn’t see much difference this year, as they would also be 100% as stupid. Just hearing someone say stupid is funny enough to a kid I guess.

But I truly understood the sufferings once the 50th Hunger Games was finished. My mother cried for most of it. Especially when the girl died by the pink birds, and my favourite had to hold her as she died in his arms. I remember seeing many people happy or cheering, but I didn’t understand why. There was even more celebration when he won the entire event, after winning a gruesome fight that mother would barely let me watch. The sounds were enough to understand the violence they put each other through.

“Why is everyone happy, but not that guy?” I asked while pointing at the winner on the screen. Mother looked at me with mixed pride and sorrow, as she answers:

“Because being a winner, means someone else has to lose.” she points at the same guy. “But he didn’t want to be a winner, he just wanted to survive.” I still couldn’t quite get it.

“But what’s the difference?”

“A winner wants to see others fail, in order for themselves to succeed. But the survivor is someone who simply lived when others unfortunately died.” She gave me a weak smile with teary eyes as she said the last part.

Even the child me now understood that the Capitol wanted winners, but we were in fact just survivors, trying to live through a game they created.

I looked to the screen again, to see my once hero, being wounded, broken and empty.

56 ADD

I stepped into the store and was greeted by a forced smile. The smile falters and instead grows into heartfelt glee. Nobody embodies strength quite like my mother. Although tired from the daily labour at the store, she still finds happiness and energy in her heart to always make both of us happy and safe.

“You’re here early! Is school already over?” she asked.

“Yeah, they finished early since the celebrations start today.” hinting at the reaping that was going to air later that day.

“I see. Well, it is understandable. Many do create extravagant viewing parties, and that sure takes time.” she answers with a slightly displeased tone. “Some girls came in earlier today looking for fabrics for a last-second change of a dress. They looked at almost all the fabrics we had before choosing just another tint of the original color the dress had. But the smallest things matter of course!” she said the last part with clear sarcasm.

“So what’s the inspiration and trends this year?

“Seems to be a lot of dark green, brown and beige. Some even come looking for skins of lizards, frogs and crocodiles,” she answered a bit wearily.

I just sighed and marvelled at the ways Capitol would try to find any symbolism from the games and always taking the most basic ones.

I recently started to come to help mother at the store after school and the owner, Gaius. would even toss an extra coin our way for my effort. Most days I just helped to restock and putting the fabrics in proper order onto the shelves, as they tended to be moved around a lot when mother was busy. I found the work satisfactory and calming. Feeling the fabric between my fingers and seeing all possible colors through different materials. Sometimes I’d imagine them as gowns, shirts or other garments. I would sometimes even draw the ideas onto paper once I got home. I’m pretty sure that mother knew, but it didn’t seem to bother her.

Just as I was about to finish off my work, the doorbell of the backdoor rang.

“Coming!” mother yelled out. She opened the door to find a man holding a smaller package. Mother signed the waiver as she usually would and thanked the man.

“An odd time to make a delivery. They usually arrive much earlier,” she said once she had closed the door. We opened the package and saw a peculiar note saying “experimental material”. We both looked at each other, confused and curious. Mother pulled out a black polyester material that didn’t seem like it was any different to other black fabrics in the store. Right then the front doorbell rang, signalling customers. Mother shoved the box towards me and said:

“Could you put this on the desk in the office? I think the owner needs to look at this.” and left to care for the newly arrived customers.

I quietly walked into the office with the box and put it on the desk. When I did, I saw another note fall out of the box. I picked it up and glanced at it. This was a manual or explanation of the fabric and how to utilize it. Although seemingly uninteresting at first glance, the fabric was able to give off different illusions in different lights and angles. I touched the fabric again with awe and my imagination soared. The outfits and gowns this could create would be a sight to behold and a true spectacle. However; it would take someone with quite the personality to carry such a striking look.

“Cinna! Could you help for a second?” my mother called from the store. I touched the fabric one last time and went to help with whatever task I was called for.

61 ADD

I decided to teach myself more about how to design and create clothing. I would ask and learn some of it from customers in the store since many worked with design or made a living by sewing. I also learned some from books I could manage to borrow from time to time, but most of it was from practising on my own when the store was closed, on the sewing machine. I had asked to borrow it from the Gaius and the materials needed was either scrap from the store or paid by working.

“Come Cinna, it’s time to go home.” Mother ushered me away from the sewing station, ready to head home.

“Very well, but you know I’m old enough now to walk home on my own, right?” I answered slightly frustrated on having to finish early and leave my work unfinished for another day.

“Would it hurt to humor an old woman who wants to walk home with her son?” she answered with a cheeky grin. Although she looked somewhat worn after all the years of hard work, she was still a beauty with immense energy in my eyes.

“You’re no old woman yet. My eyes cannot be fooled.” I answered in an amused tone.

I packed the last bits and pieces into a designated box for my works and stood up to link arms with my dear mother.

“Shall we?” I asked as she nodded and we headed home. My mother gave me a prideful and pleasing smile that only a mother can give her child.

Once at home, I got to study for school, as well as research more work or techniques I could practice. Mother stood in the kitchen, making the usual late evening dinner for us both. I was fully immersed in learning the history of the Districts and their importance to the Capitol when I heard my mother yell in agony. Shocked and worried, I got to my feet and hurried into the kitchen, scared that she was hurt or injured.

“Mother! What happened?” She was crouching next to the stove, with a pan to her left side, cradling her left arm. Her heavy breathing and groans subsided slightly as she explained:

“I tipped the boiling water onto my arm. Stupid of me.” she cursed herself for the one small mistake she made. From what was not covered by her shirt, the elbow, most of the forearm and hand was covered in red blotches. Trying to hold back a shocked gasp, I decided that it was too serious to be left on its own.

“There’s nothing stupid about an accident. Come, let’s get you to a hospital quick. We need to get some medical attention before it gets worse.” I tried to gently lift my mother by the right arm to stand, but she pulled back her arm and almost hissed at me:

“You know we can’t afford that! It would be cheaper to cut off my arm!” she seemed instantly apologetic for her behaviour and continued to cradle her arm.

“Then let me at least get you into the shower so you can run cold water on your arm. That would hopefully do some difference.” I answered as I pleadingly looked at her. She meekly glanced back and silently nodded. I gently grabbed her right arm again and led her into the shower and ran some cold water. She sat down in the shower, audibly groaning as the water hit her injured arm.

“I will get you some painkillers. Hopefully, they will alleviate some of the pain.” with one last squeeze of her hand, I went to get her medicine. I heard her agonizing groans as she pulled off the first layer of the shirt she was wearing, so she could more properly cover the burn with cold water. Some screams slipped out and I hurried back with the medicine. Once I was back in the bathroom, she had gotten the shirt of the injured arm.

“Here, let me do the rest,” I said, kneeling in front of her and gently rolled the shirt off her. My mother was visibly exhausted from the pain as I brought the pills to her mouth. “Take them, you will need them.”

She sighed and swallowed the pills, although some defiance was still in her eyes.

I spent the night in her bedroom, looking after her while she slept and wetting the towel that covered her arm with cold water ever so often. She luckily stayed asleep. Must be the sleeping pill I gave her with the painkillers.

“...inna”

I must have fallen asleep at some point during the night, as I woke up so a soft whisper of my name. I stretched out my slumped back on the chair and slowly opened my eyes to the rays of lights that penetrated the curtains.

“Cinna..” mother called out in a weak voice. I looked at her and saw sweat pearling on her pale face and a weak right arm stretching out to me. I bolted out of the chair to hold her hand.

“Mother, how are you feeling?” I asked worried, although I could clearly tell this wasn’t good.

“I’m ok, just help me to the bathroom.” It took all she had to just say those words. I gently took he by the right arm, trying to not look at her swollen left arm. She grimaced and groaned as she got to her feet. We slowly made our way to the bathroom and I sat her on the porcelain seat.

“Just tell me when you’re done, and I’ll pick you up.” I closed the door and headed to the kitchen to arrange some more painkillers and food. After a while, she called out and I tried as gently as possible to get her back to the bed. When the discomfort and pain had subsided a bit, she asked:

“Could you cover for me at the store today? You know no one else will be able to.” we were lucky that the school was off for the weekend.

“Of course, but you should really get yourself checked at a hospital first,” I said, worried and hoping she would see reason this time. She did not.

“It’ll be fine with some more rest and water. Just go work and I’ll surely be fine by the evening.” she smiled to try and gloss over the alarming symptoms she showed.

“Ok, but if you don’t feel better by the time I’m back, I’m taking you to the nearest hospital.” I tried to say it in a commanding tone, as to make her understand that I was serious.

“It seems that I’ve gotten old enough to have my own boy worry about me,” she said while stroking my cheek. I kept a steady gaze as I grasped that hand.

“I mean it,” I answered. She fell silent, and her smile wavered. “I’ll drag you there if I have to.” I continued. She nodded and gave a weak:

“OK.”

I was off to the store, after preparing more medicine, water and a new cold towel on her arm. I arrived minutes before the store would open and explained the situation to Gaius. Although slightly dissatisfied with not having his favourite employee at work that day, they understood and agreed I should fill in her role for the day.

The day passed, and except for a few hiccups with my service manners, I would say it went fine. But I hastened home to check on mother’s condition.

“Mother! I’m home! How are you feeling?” I called out once I opened the door to the hallway. No reply. I quickly went into her bedroom to find her, still in bed, but the bed was now soaked in her sweat and water from the towel. She looked fatigued and worse than this morning.

“Cinna, I’m so sorry,” she muttered through her fever dream. I knelt down by her side and held my hand against her forehead. It was sweltering. I knew that she could not stay like this.

I barely got her on her feet and prepared to take her to the closest hospital. I took her uninjured arm over my neck to drag her there. Luckily enough, the closest one was only a block away, so after an unstable walk, we arrived. The nurses took one look at my mother and quickly got to work by pulling out a wheelchair and promptly putting her in it. Dazed and confused, mother called out to me.

“Cinna! Cinna, where are you?” Put myself in her range of view and answered:

“It’s OK mother. The doctors will take care of you now.” I answered to assure her. She sloppily grabbed my hand in desperation and replied:

“But the fees! We can’t afford this!” I looked into her eyes and stroked her cheek.

“I’ll figure something out. You should just focus on getting better now.” was the last I could reply before the nurses urgently rolled her off into a restricted area.

“Are you the relative of Anya?” someone asked behind me. What looked to be a doctor approached me in the waiting room with a medical report in his hand.

“Yes! I’m her son, Cinna.”

“Well, we have finished our emergency treatment and examination.” The doctors face hinted that the rest would not be good news. “But we have deduced that your mother has Toxic Shock Syndrome from an infection started from the burn on her left arm. The toxins from the bacteria are what’s causing her illness. Her situation is in dire need of more treatment” I looked into the doctors face in horror.

“Can you treat it? Will she be OK?” Because that was my only concern at this point.

“Yes, but the treatment of both her arm and the TSS will be quite costly and she would also have to be administered to the hospital for a couple of weeks during the treatment.” He then gave me a sheet estimating the cost for said treatment. The doctor made an educated guess that we could not afford such a fee, which is correct.

“I know we lack the proper funding, but could you start the treatment now and we could pay it off at a later date?” I tried to find any way to make it work and was as close as I could be to bargaining.

“That is unfortunately not a service we provide. We can at most hold her until tomorrow evening while trying to keep her condition stable. But I’m afraid we can’t do any more after that point.” The look in his eyes made it seem like I was the unreasonable one and a nuisance. I then felt my shaking hands that I had unconsciously formed into a fist.

“Please…” My voice cracked as I pleaded and held back my tears.”Please just hold her until tomorrow. I will find a way.” Although no idea of how. The doctor nodded.

“Very well, please be back by 10 pm.” The doctor almost sneered at me.

Well at home again, I panicked. I let out the sobs I withheld earlier and my mind spun around on what I should do. I could call Gaius for an early payment or a loan, but that would probably still not be enough. I know there are some people looking for extra organs on the black market, but that would not make me able to reach her in time. Yes, time was of the essence here. I could not lose the once person I held dear in this wretched city. Should I sell myself of for servitude, like my mother had been forced to? And then it hit me. Caiaphas.

After a sleepless night, I put my plan into action. In order to save the one I loved the most, I had to face the one I loathed even more. My own father. I stood at the gated entrance and my finger hovered over the call button. I had dressed in the finest suit I had sewn for myself, but that was still not much in comparison to the servants clothing. My red eyes and swollen face probably did not help either. I pressed the button and waited.

“Caiaphas manor. What business do you have here?” The impatient lady answered at the other end. I suspected it was a secretary who could see me from some camera by her tone.

“I am Cinna.” I paused and hoped she would know by my name alone. She did not. “I am Caiaphas’ son.” The other end went silent for a moment as if she was doubting it.

“Please hold” she answered with a sigh that got cut of. I now felt my palms sweating and the nerves kicking in. As I was lost in thought, the gate suddenly opened.

“Please enter” sounded from the speaker.

I took slow and careful steps up the stairs leading to the big mansion. The wide doors swung open as I saw a man spread his arms out to welcome me.

“Cinnaaa! What a joyous occasion,” he exclaimed. I had mastered the ability to tell when a smile meant something else, and by his, I could tell this was not joyous at all. “What brings you all this way?” I was at first surprised by the fact he remembers my existence or that he wanted to greet me at all.

“Hi.” I gave out weakly. “I was hoping that we could talk,” I stated as I nervously glanced around at all of the staff. “Alone?” He did not look pleased nor surprised.

“I suspected as much.” He kept trying to hold his facade but seemed to be slipping now. I silently followed him back through the garden to a bench halfway down the driveway.

“Please, have a seat.” I sat down on the far end of the bench as he sat down at the other. “So what business did you have today, Cinna?” He spitefully said my name.

“I came today to ask for a loan.” I thought cutting to the chase would be easier since time was of the essence and he did not enjoy my presence, to begin with. “I fully intend to pay it back in time, but I would need to leave with the specified amount by the end of our meeting.” I gave him a note with the estimated cost from the hospital. He took it into his hand and glanced at the amount. He lifted one eyebrow and snickered.

“What? Anya can’t pay for college?” he humorously replied. “You probably won’t need the education anyway. You’ll just stay in that shithole with her.” He waved his hand at the thought.

“I need it for mothers treatment,” I answered blankly, trying to ignore the seething rage building in me. He got quiet then and his smile dissipated.

“Treatment? What treatment?” He looked at the note in disgust now. He still did not understand the seriousness of the situation.

“She has had a serious burn which led to Toxic Shock Syndrome.” I steadied my gaze into his eyes. “This is the only thing I will ask of you as a son. You will never have to see me after this unless it’s for the payments.” He looked slightly shocked and froze for a while. But then burst into laughter, which shocked and enraged me. He replied:

“You really think I care about you or your whore mother?” he answered with a mocking tone. “If I wanted you in my life, you would be. But I don’t, so leave and stop wasting my time. What a waste of space.” He continued to mock and laugh as he stood up and started walking away. I slammed my hidden fist onto the table and got to my feet with tears in my eyes and rage in my heart.

“She’s dying and that’s all you have to say?!” I furiously spit out. He turned around, still looking somewhat amused but at least he contained his laughter now. “We might be a waste of space, but at least we’re not the shitstain of humanity.” That removed his stupid grin.

Two guards escorted me to the gates and shoved me through the exit. One guard yelled after me:

“For your own good kid: don’t come back.”

I made my way home, but without a single hope or possibility left, I was in tears. Although many whispered and avoided me on the streets, I couldn't care less. The tears trickled down my face and dampened my handmade suit.

The walk back took quite some time, and by the time I got home, it was 7 PM. Only three hours left. I was now filled with rage. I took out my anger on my environment. The clothes I ripped apart, the furniture I toppled and rendered some of them unusable. I felt my hands beat along to my heart, from punching the furniture and floor, in anger. I gasped for air as I regained my senses and sadness. I had failed her. I promised her I could find a way. But there is none. Not for a waste of space. But the ringing of the phone abrupted my breakdown.

A block later and I was outside the dreaded place. As I entered, one of the previous nurses led me into a nearby room where several nurses and doctors ran in and out. Upon entering, I saw my now husk of a mother on the bed and felt like collapsing then and there. But before I could, the doctor I had previously talked to approached me once more.

“Can you go through with the treatment?” He urgently asked. I bit my lower lip and shook my head. He looked solemn for one moment, but then stated. “Then there is nothing we can do. She has deteriorated quickly and will unfortunately not be with us for much longer at this pace.” He then waved for the staff to exit the room. “We will leave you two alone.” Door closed.

I sat down on the chair next to her bed and collapsed my body onto her bed. I could once more not withhold my cries and sobbed like the child I was. Suddenly I felt a soft hand on my head.

“Cinna, my sweet boy,” she whispered with a smile that contained the beautiful strength I knew her for. “I am so proud of you.” I looked up with tears in my eyes as I replied:

“No mother, I failed you! I tried to convince Caiaphas to lend me money for the treatment, but he simply laughed in my face! I couldn’t even make him see reason!” she saw my distraught face and teary eyes. She put my hands in hers and smiled again.

“What matters is that you had the strength to try and fight and that you also still made your way back to me.” she squeezed my hand with the little effort she had left. “I needed nothing more from this earth than you by my side..” she now let a tear from her eye, to match mine. “Just remember that I always have and always will love you, my boy. You made this life worth living, not just surviving.” she slowly uttered those last words, as she fell into a calm sleep. I stroked her beautiful locks away from her face, as I kissed her forehead.

“As do I love you, mother.”

I collapsed back onto the bed in tears, when I shortly after heard her last breath.

63 ADD

Days turn to weeks, months and eventually years. The memory of my mother’s final moments haunted me almost daily. The initial rage after my mother’s death had brought me to the point of an insane hunger for my dad’s death. Why did he deserve to live when she, who is so good had to die? But eventually, the pain and anger faded. There wasn’t anything that I could do. I was again reminded of my mother’s classic phrase. And it wasn’t fair to her, so I focused less on the negative moments and more about the positive ones. The way she would brush her hair behind her ear when she felt accomplished, the way she would admire a beautiful fabric, the golden specks in her eyes that would shine in the light or just how she radiated so much warmth.

I kept working in Intexui after she passed away because I didn’t really know where to go. It was a good enough job, that paid the bills and kept me out of trouble. I also got to keep working with fashion and clothes. I still spent all my spare time practising, observing and taking notes on what I could.

One day I was sitting at the front desk sketching away. This new fabric had come in that I had experimented with a little bit. It was aqua colored, and I was trying to find other fabrics to combined with it to create the illusion of waves. I was drawing up a way of sewing the shirt together when the door to the store opened. I looked up and there was a slightly older woman standing in front of me. I recognized her from the Hunger Games. She was one of the designers for District 2. Her face was striped yellow, orange and black with whiskers coming out the sides of her cheeks. Her hair had tight curls that were pulled back into a ponytail at the back of her head, giving the silhouette of a feline.

“Hello, I am Tigris. I am looking for Gaius?” she said. Just then he popped his head out of his workroom.

“Oh, let her in Cinna! Tigris, darling!” he said as he moved towards her. She walked around the desk and towards Gaius and they exchanged air kisses. He pulled her in with him and the door shut. The door opened again and a company of 3 walked in, two women and a young girl.

“Did you see the latest from Juan? Apparently, leather is the new sequins. Absolutely inspired.”

“Oh, tell me about it. Our cook kept getting sequins in our food, so I had to fire her! Leather should be a bit harder to mix into the veal lasagna.”

“I don’t know though, these avoxes can be quite stupid, I must say. Did you hear about…” They continued chattering on as they looked around the shop. Finally, they came up to me.

“How much is this?” they asked as they showed me some fine black leather.

“That would be 50 dollars a yard madam,” I answered.

“Wow, well then we can’t have that. Do you have something in a higher price range? You know more, exclusive?” she said and winked at me. I moved into the store and started going through and showing them all the different kinds of leather we had. After settling on the one that was 120 dollars a yard we moved back to the front desk. There was Tigris looking at my sketchbook. I rushed over, closed it and put it to the side.

“Sorry,” I said. Tigris moved to the side and let me pass. As a measured up the fabric and charge the woman for it, I could feel her gaze. As the woman left the store, she came up to me.

“What kind of fabric are you thinking for your design?” she asked. I little bit surprised I pulled out the aqua colored chiffon out from the counter. She looked at it and then said:

“Chiffon is a hard fabric to work with. First of all, if you want the effect of more movement, I would suggest having a white base, something sturdier like cotton.” She moved in closer and grabbed my sketchbook. “May I?” she said. I nodded. “You’re thinking a little too narrow. Instead of sowing things so much into place consider doing more layers with different lengths of fabric under one overlapping piece of fabric.” She turned to a new page and drew a slightly different version of my dress. She then put the pen down, grabbed a pair of scissors and went into the store. She came back with four different colored fabrics that all complimented each other. She put them all in the book and stamped them into place.

“Thank you,” I said. Right then Gaius came out of his workroom.

“Cinna, Tigris and I are going out to dinner. Lock up the store at closing time.” And then the walked away, not looking back. When they had gone, I opened up my book again and looked at what she had drawn. I got a new page and redrew the dress, adding the ideas she had suggested. That way would provide less room for mistakes with the sewing and would perhaps create a better illusion. The following days I worked on the dress for the next few days and made adjustments until I had achieved the perfect result.

This happened several times in the months and years that followed. Ever so often Tigris would come into the store to see Gaius and at the same time, she would offer me bits of knowledge that helped my technique and look at my end results. She convinced me to sell the clothes I make to her grandmother, who owns a clothing store. Eventually, she stopped coming by. I didn’t know why, and I never would. One day, however, as I was working one of my all-night-open shifts I had an older gentleman come in with a woman looking for me.

“I was at this dinner with my father’s colleagues, when I saw the most divine dress on one of the past victors. And I said to my papa that I simply must have it. And so, we asked her where she got it and she shared that she had gotten it from this little shop just two blocks from here! We hunted the place down and they told us that the designer worked here. And here we are!” The woman beamed at me and the elderly gentleman reached out his hand.

“So, what do you say boy? Care to help us out?” I took his hand.

“Of course. What will it be?”

After that, I had people coming in from time to time. Not a lot of people wanted to share where they got their one of a kind outfit, in fear of someone copying them, but ever so often I would get new customers come in and request their various different clothing ideas and I got to put all my knowledge into practice. I felt myself discovering more and more who I was as I drowned myself in work. I found my peaceful mind space. I still remember one morning when I got into work and I had three orders to finish by the end of the day, I saw a golden pen on the floor of the store. I picked it up and looked at it. It reminded me of the golden specks in my mother’s eyes. Oh, how I wished that I could see her again, just to talk to her one more time and to hear her say she’s proud of me. I wanted to look into her eyes again and find the reassurance that together we could do anything. I walked towards a mirror took of the lid of the pen and drew a straight line across my lash line on both eyes. I backed up and looked at myself in the mirror. Dark hair, black pants, black shirt and the gold eyeliner. It was a good look.

74 ADD

I was finishing up the last piece of hemming on the late-night order I had received the night before when the doorbell rang. I placed the last pin in the neckline and put the dress down. When I walked out into the store there was a woman standing looking at the newly arrived fabrics.

“Welcome to Intexui, can I assist you in any way today madam?”

The woman turned around and smiled. She couldn’t be more than a couple of years older than me. She had a light purple wig on that was cut to a short bob with a fringe on the front. Darker skin, almost like mine, a dark silvery jumpsuit with boots to match. A very nice-looking outfit.

“Thank you and not madam, it’s Portia,” she said and reached out her hand.

“Cinna.” I grabbed her hand and shook it. She turned around, doing a fast glance at the store.

“I am looking for an organza fabric, I’m thinking maybe green or turquoise. Do you happen to have anything of that category?”

“We do, as a matter of fact, I have some on hand if you’ll just hold on for a moment.” I went back to the back and got a few samples for her and brought them out. She grabbed them and started scanning them, pulling them a bit and holding them up to the light.

“I am not sure which one I like better. It’s hard to tell what this light green one would look like with layers towards the light. How’s it sewing with it?”

“Let me grab a sample from the back,” I said and then went into my workroom and grabbed the dress that I had been working on. I brought back and laid it in front of her. Her eyes widened a little bit and she picked it up gently. She spent a good minute just looking at the dress. She looked up at me and said:

“Who made this?”

“That would be me,” I answered. Her smile widened.

“Well, it’s beautiful. It’s really a fine piece. Where did you study?”

“Oh, I learned most of it from the store, some books, and by practice. You meet a lot of people in these kinds of places who are eager to share their wisdom and knowledge,” I said waving my hand around the room. I couldn’t help myself from thinking of Tigris.

“That very well maybe, but Cinna, raw talent isn’t something you pass down. It’s something you’re born with.” She put the dress gently back on the countertop. She then picked up the bright turquoise fabric and handed it to me.

“Can I have 10 yards of this please?” I took it out of her hand and started measuring the fabric. This gave me some time to just let the compliment sink in. I felt like I had gotten loads of praise over the year but for some reason, this situation really stood out. And then I realized that it carried the same kind of spirit as something that my mother would have said. I am what I make myself. I folded the fabric up nicely and placed it in a bag and handed it over to Portia. She took it and started to walk away. She then came back up to me.

“So, I just got hired for the hunger games as a stylist. I still have the guy’s number if you are interested.”

“I don’t know. That whole spectacle isn’t really my scene,” I answered. She opened up her bag and pulled out a card and handed it to me.

“Well, here is his number in case you change your mind. Could be your opportunity to make a mark.” She then turned around and walked out of the door.

After I finished work, I walked home in deep thought as I held the card in my jacket pocket. If there was anything in this world that was against everything I believed in, it was the Hunger Games. But it was those last words that Portia uttered that made me think. As I walked through the door, headed to the living room and turned on the TV. I took the remote control and flicked through different TV shows until I landed on last years broadcast of the Hunger Games. I hadn’t watched it of course, not after the 50th. But I wanted to see something with my own eyes. I started going through the reaping segments. When I got to district 12, I observed what was happening. As they called out the name of the scrawny girl, I could see the fear in her eyes as she moved towards the stage. I saw the same kind of fear in the lanky boy. As the reaping was over, I observed as the peacekeepers took these two children by the arm and guided them into the building behind them. Words from my mother’s story of her night at the mansion popped out in my mind. Being overcome by fear, not having a choice and my dad grabbing her arm pulling her towards the moment that would change her life forever. All survivors. I turned off the TV and walked up to the phone and dialled the number on the card.

The following day I took the train into the Gold Circle, the centre of the Capitol to meet up with Seneca Crane. I had brought all of my sketches and some of my finished products that were yet to be picked up at the store. As I walked into the building the word luxury came into mind. Huge marble walls stretching up for hundreds of meters. I walked up the front desk and gave my name and was directed to the 15th floor. As I was moving up the elevator, I was running through what I was going to say in the meeting. When I arrived, I was directed into what seemed like an office. Sitting behind a big white desk sat a man with a beard that had a very intricate pattern. He was wearing a bright red suit and was preoccupied with writing on a piece of paper.

“Come in and have a seat,” he said without looking away from what he was doing. As I sat down, he collected everything on his desk into a pile and put it to the side. “I’m Seneca. I believe that you brought your portfolio?” he said and reached out his hand. I opened up my bag and pulled out a book, to put in his hand, and then spread everything else out on the table. Seneca spent about 15 minutes in silence looking through my sketchbook and picking up the different pieces of clothing. Finally, he closed the book and put everything down on the table.

“You obviously have talent, and I can see here that you have worked with some good people. We like that. Tell me, why do you want this job?” I thought about it for a second. I had to really think about how I could phrase my answer.

“I feel like I have more to offer. And I would like the chance to prove that, to show people what I can do with the simplest of things,” I answer him. Seneca looks at me closely and leans back in his chair.

“I agree with you. However, you are a newcomer, so we don’t have much to offer in terms of the districts.”

“Okay, well, if you’ll permit me, I’d like request district 12.” He smiled and stood up.

“Request granted. Welcome to the Hunger Games Cinna.” he replied as he shook my hand.

It had been two months since I had gotten the job to work in the Hunger Games. Shortly after the interview, I got to meet my fellow stylist, which just so happened to be Portia. We got started right away on brainstorming different ideas for the opening ceremony outfit, just so that we would be prepared. On the day of the reaping Portia and I came together to watch together at the tributes we would be designing for. One by one we watched the tributes for the different districts being selected. I couldn’t help but notice how cold some of them looked. Like they had lost their souls. My heart broke when I witnessed a young twelve-year-old girl get reaped from district 11. However, the real showstopper of the entire reaping was district 12. I watched as Effie Trinket took to the stage and pulled the name for the girl. This year it seemed to be another small twelve-year-old girl. I started taking notes on her, but then suddenly there was a scream from the crowd. A slightly older girl had thrown herself in front of the first girl and screamed that she was volunteering. The little girl was lifted away by another boy as this girl took to the stage. It was shared that she was the older sister. Following this, there was an odd cut in the footage and it jumped straight to the reaping of the boy. A blond-haired, strong built boy walked up on the stage. Finally, they shook hands before they were taken into the building behind them. As the screening finished, I couldn’t stop thinking about the girl. A scrawny, brown-haired girl that had not volunteered for the sake of glory, but to save her sister. I wrote down: Tell prep team to leave her hair as is. I looked up at the screen again and rewound back to the moment she threw herself in front of her sister. The honest terror in her eyes, but also the heat. It was unlike anything I had ever seen before. This girl, I thought, she’s got fire.

[foxgirlintestines]

Which one is the best monowhite budget commander? Can you build a list?

Well this is a tad bit vague. There is no definitive best budget mono-white commander as you can build white in different archetypes. Mono White is usually associated with aggro and equipment. There is a problem with those in budget. Good equipment can get expensive, same with their support cards. Stoneforge Mystic was just unbanned in Modern so that will definitely make Voltron White a bit less accessible. Aggro on the other hand is cheap, but also very soft in Commander. White weenies turning sideways often is just too slow to get there when you have three opponents and life totals start at 40.

(Decklist at the end)

That makes me want to build a Mono-White deck in one of two ways if I had a pretty low budget in mind: Stax and End the World control. Of these two options, Wrath tribal does not overlap witrh Modern in the types of cards you want so it will probably be cheaper. So, first off, we want our Commander to synnergize with the idea that every permanent is temporary, so there are three creatures that really catch my eye: Heliod, God of the Sun, Oketra the True, and Mageta the Lion (honorable mention to Avacyn who would be here if she was budget). The two gods are indestructible allowing them to safely live through the end of the world, and Mageta is a Wrath of God on legs. The problem Mageta runs into is the lack of card draw in white limits how well you can use him, you can simply run out of cards to discard. The other problem is since you are going to be running a lot of wraths he will be caught in the crossfire. That narrows it down to the two gods.

Heliod and Oketra operate pretty similarly. They are creatures that are basically turned off until you add permanents to the battlefield. One cares about white symbols, and the other cares about creature count. They both produce an army of creatures, but Oketra can animate herself while Heliod cannot. Heliod on the other hand makes larger creatures and has Enchantment synergies. You can honestly go with either one, but I will choose Heliod for the ability to have an enchantress subtheme as a way to keep him animated with permanents that aren't creatures and as another control element.

I'm going to try to limit all the cards in this deck to $5 or less unless they are important for the deck to function (some cards to save up for).

So, first off we need the removal suite. 1-for-1 removal should be kept to a minimum as you can't really keep up trading like that in a multiplayer game especially with less than ideal card advantage. Swords to Plowshares and Generous Gift will be the targeted removal suite outside of the ones that will come from enchantments. Next up is the big kaboom. We want to be able to really be the old testament god on one hell of a rampage. You should be able to control the board by having access to a wrath when needed after you hit 4 mana. Now to make the numbers work you need to kind of factor in how much card draw you have at any moment's notice and that will not be a super high amount. Somewhere around 10 with 12 being more comfortable is what you will need to have a wrath on hand at most times. If people are rebuilding fast and you need multiple wraths to stay on top of the board you'll need around 15. Lets just see how many we can fit in: Wrath of God, Austere Command (I found a copy for less than $5 so it counts), Day of Judgement, Rout, Fumigate, Cleansing Nova, Hour of Revelation, Akroma's Vengeance, Planar Collapse, Sublime Exhalation, Phyrexian Rebirth, Planar Cleansing, Myojin of Cleansing Fire, Nevinyrral's Disc, End Hostilities, Mageta the Lion, Martial Coup, Waking Sun's Avatar, Descend Upon the Sinful, Hallowed Burial, Urza's Ruinous Blast, Winds of Abandon, and Tragic Arrogance. Whats that? 23 but we only need about 15? I SAID THE OLD TESTAMENT HELIOD! If it bleeds it can die, and if it doesn't we'll send the whole fucking planet into oblivion! You made a black mage make a mono-white deck so its your fault for thinking this would end any other way.

Ahem... That seems decent enough. Some card draw, pillow fort, and mild stax should help round it out from there.

The enchantment package should be mostly defensive and geared towards stalling, but some heavy hitters to end the game should also be included. First off the payoffs for enchantments: Sigil of the Empty Throne, Mesa Enchantress, and Sphere of safety provide control, creatures, and card draw off of your enchantments giving you engines. Parallax Wave can temporarily mess with creatures, or save things from your constant wraths, it also forms an infinite exile combo with Starfield of Nyx. Oblivion Ring, Banishing Light, Ghostly Prison and Aurification provide you with some early defenses, and Phyrexian Unlife combined with Solemnity create temporary imortality. They can be peiced together with Plea for Guidance, and on their own they are decent though narrow. Rule of Law, Eidolon of Rhetoric, Curse of Exhaustion, and Spirit of the Labyrinth will help against the unfair decks that otherwise ignore your wraths. Overwhelming Splendor can help if someone really needs to just stop. Nevermore and Gideon's Intervention can pinpoint cards that might take you down or lock a commander thats problematic out of the game. Martyr's Bond can be a heavy Stax engine acting as a Grave Pact on steroids. Finally True Conviction, Starfield of Nyx animating the Enchantments, and Ethereal Armor on Heliod can close out games.

The deck has solid "meat" but will need support from card draw and ramp. Draw is limited, but Endless Atlas is pretty good and Mind's Eye is slow but solid for budget reasons. Mentor of the Meek and Skullclamp can turn Heliod's Activated Ability into card advantage but they are a bit slow. Staff of Nin is expensive but you can't get picky. Though it only grabs lands Thaumatic Compass is good for consistent mana and its flip side is excellent for a deck like this. Treasure Map will filter draws and provide cards after it flips. Sadly some of White's best answers to its limited card advantage are quite pricey. Your main advantage will come from depleting your opponent's resources with a single card answering their full boards and breaking up their own card advantage.

Ramp is also limited, but since the best ramp is actually artifacts it’s not that bad. Sol Ring is the always present auto-include. Smothering Tithe is one of the few out of budget cards but its honestly one of the best white cards for commander and synergizes as it’s an enchantment so it’s one of the few cards to go out of your way to get. Starfield Mystic will discount your Enchantments and Pearl Medallion will discount all your colored spells. Solemn Simulacrum just got a reprint and is a decent land ramp. Most of your ramp should take you from 2>4 though so you can get your wraths online so you should stick to 2 cost rocks like Mind Stone and Marble Diamond. Arcane Signet will be an option but it might end up a chase card from the brawl deck.

Finally we can use Sun Titan as a random finisher with value attached.

Lands will mostly be basic, but we will have Emeria the Sky Ruin (another budget stretch that you can justify), Myriad Landscape for ramp, Mistveil Plains for recursion, Flood Plain and Grasslands as extra cards for Sun Titan recursion and to find the Mistveil Plains. Arch of Orazca and Cryptic Caves provide a little flood protection. Hall of Heliod's Generosity will return your destroyed Enchantments or create a loop of apocalypses with Planar Collapse. You could add more utility lands as you like, but otherwise its a simple 28 plains from there.

I learned from this exaercise I am terrible at budget decks. I wanted thios onbe to be less than $100, but...

As for how to play, its pretty simple; it is tap out control. Cast your cards sparingly, ramp and get in card advantage when you can, but most of the time you are the demolition crew. Most of your wraths will be one sided as you run very few creatures andmost of your spells only hit creatures. There are a few that hit everything and that exile which will catch Heliod. Basically you want to either try to cast those before you set up other permanents or as a last resort.This deck is a budget deck, its obviously not going to dominate a table of competitive decks or your standard pub-stompers. However, it should be solid in a meta that is reliant on creatures and combat. Lower power pods tend to resort to creature strategies, so thats where this fits in as a control deck. Sadly, the lack of interacting with the stack makes this deck very weak to combo or some other types of control like Superfriends. Either way, if you enjoy seeing a nice orderly clean table with no pesky permanents on it you should have some fun with this.

Upgrading this deck would be pretty standard. Take out the clunkier wraths, and add in the higher power Enchantment cards like Serra’s Sanctum, Academy Rector, Idyllic and Enlightened Tutors, Greater Auramancy and so on. Start adding the heavier stax cards and the Armagheddons.I purposely did not include land destruction as budget groups have less options to handle them so its just going to make people not enjoy the deck, but as power level goes up its one of the few ways White can really contend with the other colors through mana denial.The deck should look something like this:

Commander: Heliod, God of the Sun

-Creatures:

Myojin of Cleansing Fire

Mageta the Lion

Waking Sun's Avatar

Mesa Enchantress

Eidolon of Rhetoric

Spirit of the Labyrinth

Mentor of the Meek

Starfield Mystic

Solemn Simulacrum

Sun Titan

-Artifacts:

Nevinyrral's Disc

Endless Atlas

Mind's Eye

Skullclamp

Staff of Nin

Thaumatic Compass

Treasure Map

Sol Ring

Pearl Medallion

Mind Stone

Marble Diamond

-Enchantments:

Planar Collapse

Sigil of the Empty Throne

Sphere of Safety

Parallax Wave

Starfield of Nyx

Oblivion Ring

Banishing Light

Ghostly Prison

Aurification

Phyrexian Unlife

Solemnity

Rule of Law

Curse of Exhaustion

Overwhelming Splendor

Nevermore

Gideon's Intervention

Martyr's Bond

True Conviction

Ethereal Armor

Smothering Tithe

-Instant:

Swords to Plowshares

Generous Gift

-Sorceries:

Wrath of God

Austere Command

Day of Judgement

Rout

Fumigate

Cleansing Nova

Hour of Revelation

Akroma's Vengeance

Sublime Exhalation

Phyrexian Rebirth

Planar Cleansing

End Hostilities

Martial Coup

Descend Upon the Sinful

Hallowed Burial

Urza's Ruinous Blast

Winds of Abandon

Tragic Arrogance

Plea for Guidance

-Land:

Emeria the Sky Ruin

Myriad Landscape

Mistveil Plains

Flood Plain

Grasslands

Arch of Orazca

Cryptic Caves

Hall of Heliod's Generosity

Plains x28

[shirokaneki]

364 Days of Winter (Hatori x Shigure Comission)

I am currently doing writing comissions at £10 for 1k, £20 for 2k, £60 for 8k. Yes, I will do NSFW, come message me for details and examples of that and I’ll discuss pricing. I will also write about your OC’s, main fandoms i can do are fruits basket, tokyo ghoul, fate series, evangelion, madoka, pokemon, but whatever it is come discusss with me. Reblogs appreciated!

A figure stood alone in a world devoid of colour, consumed both inside and out by an empty void of white.

Wind howled like a lone wolf. Ice belted from a blank sky, punching holes into his chest like showers of bullets.

This wretched snowstorm had lasted for days. And there was no spring in sight. Nor even any water after the ice. The state of his feelings were unchanging; stuck away in limbo, smothered – as they had been for years. His love was unrequited, and gradually the feeling gnawed away at him, just like the world gradually drowning in a frenzy of ice.

Even lighting a single flame was a struggle. Cigarette in mouth, lighter in hand, he made a futile attempt at kindling something warm. A wisp of heat ignited the bluish night, however, the ruthless wind brutally blew it away, cold assaulting his shivering body like the sunken fangs of a wild beast. The flame was blown away by the hollow gust of wind.

It felt as though he could summon no emotion within him without wretched ice demolishing him somehow.

He’d never needed a cigarette so much in his life. On this particular New Year’s Eve it looked like they might get snowed in overnight – his worst nightmare, really. Part of him hoped he wouldn’t turn up, say the snow was so bothersome and stay at home. Yet, part of him was almost excited that he would. It was such a stupid, childish feeling that he loathed. It seemed so futile, all of it – his unrequited love, his need for a cigarette, yet, he had no choice but to continue attempting trying to spark a flame– such a cold existence needed to smoke. He needed the warmth to suck the life out of to keep his heart from completely freezing over.

His love for Shigure was like his addition to cigarettes: a cancerous, one way burn that was killing him slowly. Yet, he needed it to survive. Hope that he’d somehow get his fix kept him battling the storm. Snow swirled and blasted, wind wailing as it reared for another assault on him. It hit him like the voracity of a quickly broken heart, painting the world in a growing limbo of nothingness, just like the ice gradually freezing his heart.

His heart seemed to be freezing over at such a rate that he depended on the cancer-sticks like an injection of heat into the insides. It was an effort, for sure, but somehow he managed to light a tiny flame. Literally as well as figuratively; using his burning hands as a shield, and turning his back on the snowstorm, a meagre flame flickered weakly inside his hands, spreading a weak, yet pleasant heat like the withering hope inside him that anything good could ever come of this emotion. Even if by some slim chance it worked out – which it wouldn’t – Akito would be furious. These daydreams were purely that, – just fantasy.

Everyone knew how it had went when he’d incurred Akito’s wrath before.

His body shuddered at the thought. Cigarettes seemed to be the only thought keeping him going through the night. If any of the zodiac couldn’t make it to the banquet, Akito would be furious. Thinking about it, he drew on the cigarette like his life depended on it. As he blew out the smoke it weaved and spiraled into a shape somewhat similar to a dragon before withering away to the clutches of ice.

What a fun night it’s going to be, he thought bitterly.

“Haa-san!” came a faraway voice, filled with such vigour and perk that his heart soared before plummeting back down with his usual pessimistic dread.

“Shi… shigure?” Hatori replied abruptly, realising he’d shown way too much emotion in that instant. He really hadn’t expected him to be here, especially running towards him at full blast over ice. He didn’t like people seeing his emotions – especially when they were filled with a gross, girlish crush unbefitting a grown man, so he cleared his throat, replying in a lower, deadpan voice. He let his sleek black hair fall across his expression so it was hidden once more. “Good to see you. I didn’t think you’d be making it tonight.”

Shigure stood before him and beamed. “Looks like there is going to be quite a few of our zodiac missing tonight. Many are snowed in. It’s going to be an interesting night, so I made sure to bring lots of alcohol!”

“Shigure,” Hatori muttered slowly. The wind made his hair wisp, revealing that scarred eye which he quickly hid with a down-turned head.  ”You live out with the Sohma land, the farthest away of us all, yet you’re the one still here. You did something, didn’t you?” His hand clenched as a fist by his side. “Did something happen between you and Akito?”

“Oh, Hatori.” Shigure stepped into the shelter of the Japanese style roof, shadow passing over his features. Hatori just knew there was malicious intent from a certain darkness in his gaze, but what he could not tell. “You know I’ll do anything to break the curse and draw distance between the zodiac and their God.” He smirked.” I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

Hatori felt like one of the only people who knew of Shigure’s true nature. It was selfish. He’d use anyone to get what he wanted. Yet, somehow, he still loved him despite this, and for that, he had no reason why. It was hard for him to make new relationships, so perhaps instead the heart was clinging to the nostalgia of an old one, remembering all the joyous moments him, Ayame and Shigure shared. The heart wanted what the heart wanted, he supposed, even if there was no fathomable reason why.

“Oh, Haa-san, by the way,” Shigure retaliated in a sing song voice. A complete flip in two sides of the same coin – as was usual for Shigure. “Your partner for the traditional dance this year has dropped out. I figured you wouldn’t want to do it yourself, so I’m offering myself up instead. Since we haven’t rehearsed  anything traditional together, I figured we should do some sort of easy ballroom dance you see in hollywood movies instead. Look!” He rummaged the bag in his hand and unfurled a long, pink ballroom dress. “I even had this dress made especially for you!”

Hatori walked away and slammed the door in his face. There was a click of a key being locked.

“It was a joke, a joke Haa-san, this is one of Ayame’s dresses!” Shigure whined, pounding on the door, “please don’t leave me out here to freeze!”

***

Eventually, someone took pity on Shigure and let him in. But it was just as cold on the inside as it was out. The atmosphere hung over them with a heavy sense of dread. There was a banquet: bright, colourful and overfilled with food. Yet there was hardly anyone to eat it. There was just Hatori, Shigure and a falsely bright Ayame trying to lighten the mood.

Akito could hardly be considered to be considered a presence. They just sat in the corner, silent, crossed armed, hair fallen over their face, poisoning radiating from them that tainted the air. Shigure was cheerful – too cheerful;  this definitly had something to do with him.

They began drinking hard. That much was needed.

Something battered at the house. A gust of wind howled ominously loud like an impending storm, and everything went black.

All the light was gone once again.

“Looks like the power has gone out. Do we have any candles?” Ayame said lightly, attempting to brighten the mood, but there was a definite sense of unease in his voice.

Akito didn’t answer. They remained silent, brewing like the storm outside.

“We have them. I’ll get them from the kitchen,” Shigure replied.

They sat in both silence and darkness, awkwardly waiting for Shigure to return.

Fwoosh.

Upon his return, there was light again. Shigure lit candles in the room one by one. Sparking light was beyond an easy task for him – much unlike how it was with Hatori outside.

“Hatori.” Akito’s voice was like a light airy breeze, soft, yet hollow sounding, despite the clear malice bitten back within. Hellish flames danced on their skin. They had been plotting, scheming something to cause a scene, and it looked like now it was finally time. “Do your traditional dance.”

Hatori hung his head. “However, my partner…”

“Partner?” Akito looked head on at them for the first time that night, those empty gray eyes bulging with malice. “Don’t make me laugh, Hatori. You will dance the dance alone – like you always are. It should be natrual for you, right?”

Akito’s words were like an icicle straight through his chest. Not that there was any trace of it on his face; his expression was still, stoic, not even a flinch of surprise as his heart was pierced. As an older man, he thought it was place never to cry, never to show anything beyond the professional business man charade he put on.

He didn’t blame Ayame and Shigure not for standing up for him. Even after all these years, living their lives as best friends there was an unspoken rule – never must the zodiac challenge the word of their God.

However…

“Come now,” said Shigure in a low voice. “It would be far too embarrassing for Haa-san.”

Hatori looked up quickly, the candlelight casting a warm sparkle in those cold, grey eyes. Promptly he looked away, hiding an eye behind his hair. The atmosphere suddenly became volcanic; Akito’s teeth snarled with an oncoming eruption of rage. Their eyes bulged with the wrath of a vengeful God but Hatori stood up quickly, sedating the oncoming eruption that had been building all night. A fearful shudder passed though him – he knew of God’s wrath all too well.

“I will do the dance,” he said in a quiet voice.

Akito bit their lip. The rigid, dangerous stance of their body loosened somewhat. They smirked.

If I have to be the crux to prevent my friends from being hurt, so be it, Hatori thought to himself.

He made his way to stand in front of everyone with awkward, ungainly steps – unbefitting of a man with such a cool, powerful aura. He retreated into himself, fingers curling to fists, lip being bitten. Normally, the traditional new year’s clothes were a bright, extravagant affair, exploding with colour and detail. However, Hatori’s were a plain black, long and sweeping the floor, – as per Akito’s request. They were long, dark, and devoid of colour – just like the hollow emptiness of his heart.

He kept his gaze firmly on the floor, hair streaming over his face. Akito laughed.

But something happened as he looked up. He caught Shigure’s eyes, looking striking with the hot light dancing within them. His hand rested on his palm with a small smile of encouragement on his face, unbearably handsome looking and, well…

The flickering flames casting Hatori’s body with incandescent hues of oranges melted the crutches of ice gripping his heart. It was such a minor thing to speak like that to Akito, but it was something he wasn’t sure any other of the zodiac could do. Maybe not even he, for he still lived in fear after that day he was blinded by Akito. That was day the world had lost its colour, and ice began to solidify his heart.

But at that precise moment, he felt a great amount of love for Shigure. The feeling melted the ice within him, igniting his bloodstream with the warm, static tingles of butterflies. His frozen heart was temporarily thawed, and it blossomed like the first flourishes of cherry blossoms from Winter into Spring.

Perhaps this was the alcohol taking, but he decided to call upon it. To channel those smothered, pent up feelings through the medium of dance. It was his only hope of relief. The only way he could express his love in a way that didn’t leave a path of destruction – never could it be voiced aloud.

He tore his eyes away from Shigure, closing them, and started out small. His knees bent, body hunched up and curled with his arms clutching at his shoulders as if fighting away the cold. He thought about Kana. How the incident had snatched the ability to freely love without the vices of fear and left him cold. Then, he thought of Shigure. The thought brought such an expression of pain on his face. Never would his feelings be returned, but, as the candles painted an aura of warmth over his usually pale skin, steadily, he began to grow. Love ignited him. It gave him the warmth he needed to keep going and let him feel things again, no matter how painful they were.

The love was agony. As was told by the slow, tepid movements he made. This wasn’t anything remotely close to what he’d rehearsed but that dance couldn’t be done alone anyway. Akito wanted to humiliate him. And so he would humiliate himself, expressing that gross, disgusting love that made him feel as though he’d implode if he locked it away any further.

Steadily, he began to grow from his hunched position. Slowly. Cautiously. Quivering in a way that he could not tell was cold or fear. But he thought of that heat on his skin, the newly grown flame warming his insides, and drew upon it like a phoenix rising from the ashes of an old love into the blaze of a new one. Brow furrowed in pain, steadily, his limbs began to unfurl like fiery wings in the candlelight. His body grew in a slow, steady manner, like the trees that signalled spring, and his fingers unfurled gracefully like flourishing cherry blossoms. He opened his eyes. Amour painted them, their usual colour warmed by the feeling of love, and, helplessly, he found himself gazing at Shigure. Shigure’s eyes were wide, bedazzled looking, lips parted in awe. Quickly Hatori looked away, turning his back on him.

He panted and retreated back into himself. His heart rioted in panic. Had Shigure sensed something? Could he tell he loved him just from that single look? No. There was no way. He beat himself up internal for succumbing to such a vile feeling; gentlemen didn’t go around expressing love in girlish dance.

Still. All eyes were upon him. He could feel their burn – even Akito was suspiciously silent. He had to continue. He had to humiliate himself further, otherwise there would be hell to pay from their God.

Slowly he turned his head. The long black fringe of his hair obscured his face. It flashed like a halo as he turned to face his audience face on – it had to be a quick movement, otherwise he may have never been able to face them again. He couldn’t look Shigure in the eye. So instead, he reached to the candle sitting on the shelf behind him above his head. The light, the warmth he craved, was out of reach. As he stood, sucking all the light into him with the vanta black of his robe, only a faint outline of gold glowing behind him, his arm slowly outreached. It shook ever so slightly at the thought of what would happen if he ever caught the light. But he’d never know. Streams of gold slipped through the cracks of his fingers.

“That’s enough, Haa-san,” said a voice in a low, gentle lilt.

Hatori flinched, fear of what Akito might do overriding the blossoms of static coursing from his fingers, but he couldn’t pull away.

The light may have escaped his grasp. However, much to his shock – and horror – the real thing was in his fingers. Shigure’s fingers had closed over his own, sending waves of heat and static blossoming over his fingers.

“You needn’t dance alone.”

Such dread caused him to plummet back to the real world that he almost wretched as Akito stood to their feet.

[segadoraa]

Blinded Chapter 1: The Remaining Threat

“Varric needs help!”

Ellana shouted across the battlefield when she saw her dwarven friend get overtaken by a group of elf mages. Doing her best to deal with the group enclosing on her, she pulled electric force from the fade-enchanted prosthetic left arm that Dagna had fashioned her and, jumping back and drawing another arrow as she did, she launched a powerful attack that electrified two of the attackers. One of the remaining elves—a rogue—slashed her left cheek and she cried out as she felt her own warm blood dripping down along her face. Twisting her neck, she dodged out of the way as she felt chilled magic brushing past her left shoulder. She knelt and released a long shot that took down a faraway attacker, then jumped again to release a storm of arrows on the last two crowding her. They staggered at her shot and she finished her assault with a few arrows, then wiped the blood from her face as she turned west toward the battlefield.

Breathing heavily, she flexed her prosthetic arm and chanced a glance back at Varric, who seemed to be smothered by elves despite Cassandra and Dorian’s onslaught against them. Cassandra’s bright golden armor glinted in the retreating sun as she laid a powerful blow against a mage on her right, but she was blown back as two more took the fallen elf’s place. Sweeping the field, her stomach dropped as she realized their forces were being pushed back on all fronts. We can’t lose today, she thought. Not when they were so close.

She began firing at the overwhelming group near Varric as she strode toward them, hitting one elf in the neck as a spurt of blood announced his fall, but another quickly took his place. Her next arrow struck the elf in the shoulder. She blinked through the misty haze in her eyes and her throat clenched. If we can just keep pushing, maybe we still have a chance, she thought. Dorian released blinding terror, which seemed to catch a few of the elf mages off guard and they slowed, which gave Varric a chance to throw down some traps and Cassandra lunged. Slowly, they were able to get to Varric, who gave her a weak half-smile, then dropped to his knees.

“Dorian—” Ellana began.

“I know,” he retorted, cutting her off. “It’s a shame your apostate hobo isn’t fighting for us anymore. He was always better with the healing spells.” A look of concentration crossed his face as a feeble healing spell went through Varric. Ellana handed Varric one of the draughts from her belt and he seemed to recover slightly.

“Tell me that was the last of them and we can have a celebratory round now,” Varric said with a grimace, although it didn’t quite reach his eyes. The group paused for a moment, searching the grounds.

“We will need to call for a retreat,” whispered Cassandra darkly. “If we hope to continue our plans, we still need as great a force as we can manage.” Her eyes found Ellana and Cassandra’s gaze intensified. “We can still fight, after today. We can still win.”

“Fenedhis,” Ellana whispered, pulling her hand across her eyes. “You’re right. Tell everyone to pull back. We will try to regroup.” She tried to sound confident, but they had been trying to recover a powerful elven artifact—one that, no doubt, would give Solas the last bit of power he needed to tear down the Veil and send the waking world into chaos. It had been two years since she had met him in the Elven Ruins. Since he had finally revealed his plans as Fen’Haral, the Dread Wolf. Since he had taken her arm and left her without another thought…

Pushing those thoughts away, she raced forward to cover their retreat. Cassandra is right, she thought, we still have the runes. We may still have time. She fired an arrow into the heart of an elf pursuing a group of her retreating soldiers and sensed an elven rogue behind her. He raised his dagger to strike, but she lifted her left arm—her prosthetic arm—and almost smirked as the dagger collided with the powerful enchantment Dorian had set on it blasted him back. For good measure, she sunk an arrow into his chest, then continued striding forward. Her fingers were raw and her heart pounded in her chest, but she pressed on, leaping back and forth between attacks and providing cover as the rest of their soldiers retreated.

It was then she noticed an elf—no, Elvhen, she corrected, who had been watching her closely at a distance. He was much taller than the elves they had been fighting and carried a certain air of authority and power with him. When she met his gaze, he turned, leapt forward and bounded away from her, toward a crumbling Elvhen ruin. Curios. None of the others had fled from them, especially when her forces were clearly retreating. She exhaled sharply and started to follow the path the Elvhen had set, though he was much quicker than her. Definitely Elvhen, she thought, doing her best to keep up.

She finally approached the ruin and crept forward. She had lost sight of the Elvhen and tried to keep her cover as she carefully turned a corner. Gasping, six or seven Elvhen mages rushed toward her and she did not have time to dodge the full power of a of mind blast that sent her staggering. She felt her muscles fail and she staggered. Shakily, she knocked an arrow and sent it flying as a last attempt before she felt a force of magic freeze her to the spot.

“Na din’an sahlin!” He shouted in Elvhen. Now you die. She watched helplessly as he charged toward her with his spirit daggers drawn and she noted her arrow protruding from his right shoulder. She clamped her eyes shut and her throat closed. Not now, she prayed, not like this, but one of the other Elvhen grabbed his arm and pulled him back. Shaking from the cold that had her locked in place, she pried her eyes open.

“She is to be taken alive.” They looked at her and she felt a whoosh of magic as darkness crept along the edges of her vision. She tried to draw an arrow, to move at all, but the effort did nothing but exhaust her further. The Elvhen circled around her as the spell binding her broke and she fell, unconscious, to the floor.

She awoke, suddenly, grasping at nothing as her right hand clasped in the empty air around her. She reached with her left arm as well, but found that her prosthetic had been removed, along with her bow. Her back ached against the cool stone beneath her and she struggled to sit up, the effects of the magic inflicted on her still wearing off, as she took in her surroundings. It appeared she was in an elven ruin. The walls were well worn with weeds pushing their way through the stone and there were a few tattered pelts and furnishings that held a layer of dust as if they hadn’t been touched in years. There were no windows, only a heavy door through an archway that lead into the round room she was in. With a pang, she realized it reminded her of the rotunda at Skyhold, although it lacked Solas’s murals and the ceiling was almost low enough for her to touch. Not quite a prison cell, but the one point of entry certainly assured she had few options.

Pushing that thought aside, she rose to her feet to assess her condition and consider her next move. Shakily, she strode to the wall and traced her fingers over it, making a circle along the wall as she tried to perceive any weak points in the stone or hidden exits. Finding nothing, she turned her search to the stone floor, hoping for a trace of a hidden compartment, a secret passageway, anything that would lead her out of here. She crouched and scratched at the stone—fade-touched, she realized, and resigned herself to trying the door.

She crept forward, trying not to make any sound as she approached the only apparent escape from the room. She lifted her right hand to trace the heavy wood and, sucking in her breath, she pulled away as frost covered her fingers and a cool, familiar magic washed over her. The door had been warded. Solas, she breathed, stepping back. Steeling herself, she used what was left of her strength to run forward and bash her right shoulder against the door, only to be blasted back by a wave of ice that sent a chill straight to her spine. That ought to get his attention, she thought, rubbing her side and stepping back into the circular room.

Finding a spot where she would be in full view of the door, she slid down against the wall to resume her position on the floor. If he means to keep me prisoner, her thoughts raced and her heart clenched, then… what? She was unarmed and defenseless without her prosthetic against someone who possessed god-like abilities, let alone the command of an army that she had not yet been able to overcome. She fought against the waves of irritation and despair that threatened to overtake her as she considered her new role as Solas’s prisoner. She had been many things in the past years—hunter, knife-ear, Herald, Inquisitor, vhenan… she tried not to think of the implications of the latter as she heard muffled sounds outside the door.

“She has roused. Should we send for Fen’Harel?”

“No. He demanded she be taken alive but did not give further instructions. He knows she has been captured. We await further instruction.”

The other elf fell silent and she heard his footfalls retreating from her door.

So, this was to be it, Ellana thought, with despair slowing the pulse in her veins. I am to await the judgement of Fen’Harel.

She choked back a laugh at the irony.

Read more(in time) at: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20314771/chapters/48162601

[bakugou-jpg]

‘Promise’ Kirishima x reader x Dead!Bakugou

The news had hit everyone like a truck.

The number 2 hero Ground Zero ,also known as Katsuki Bakugou;; Husband of his loving wife (Y/n) Bakugou and father of their 3 year old son Tatsuki Bakugou, died during a fight against a few villains while protecting a hand full of school children.

It was a fight where his fatherly instincts had taken control of him  where he wanted nothing more than to protect those young souls and later return home to be engulfed into the arms of his wife and kiss her lips passionately only to be interrupted like usual with his bundle of joy running into the kitchen and jumping into his arms, smothering his pride and joy with kisses and play hero and villain with him later that night.

He had managed to save those young souls, but the one thing he looked out to the most, The one thing he loved the most in the whole entire world;; His family, was something he was never able to do because before he had the chance he was knocked against a building by a powerful blast that was followed by another one against his skull that was fatal to him.

Bakugou never had the chance to say goodbye, to tell them how much he loved them and how much he cared for them and never had realized the kiss he gave his wife before leaving would and the ruffle on his son hair would be the last.

Because if he did he would've hugged and kissed his son like there was no tomorrow, telling him how much he loved him and how badass and proud he was of that little brat. How he would stand by what ever decision he would make, even though he probably wouldn't understand at such a young age and especially that he would always be watching his son and that he would have to look after his mother when he was gone.

And to his wife..To his wife he would kiss her, so damn passionately and lovingly like he did when he did when she announced she was pregnant and when he married her. Bakugou would thank her and hold her close, comfort her since she would obviously be crying, thank her for showing him love. Thank her for showing what it means to look forward coming home and not want to leave someone's side for the rest of his life and grow old with them. He would tell her how much he loved her, because oh did Bakugou love his  beautiful and kind souled wife. One who had more kindness in her pinky than people did in their whole entire body.

Bakugou would've made love to her the night before, Nothing rough and nothing quick, no;; Bakugou would make it last long and Passionate. He really only wanted to make love to her and just show her how damn much he loved this woman.

But he didn't know, so he never was able to those things and he never regretted something more when he was sent flying off into the building right before he got killed and left behind a hysterically crying wife on the floor of their home who watched it happen on live television.

Bakugou also would've taken the time to sit down with Kirishima and thank him. Even though bakugou hated him for it in high school, Kirishima was the one who teased him on (Y/n) and did anything to set his two best friends up together. Even though he was never truly kind to Kirishima, he would set aside his usual angry self and thank him for being by his side.

But Kirishima made Bakugou a promise, one Bakugou asked him himself.

So when Kirishima had broke down crying in his small apartment upon seeing his best friend die on live television, he didn't hesitate to immediately run out of his house and rush to the house Bakugou and (Y/n) lived and enter it without knocking.

He didn't hesitate to quickly make his way to the living room, tears still staining his face, and fall down next to the broken woman, engulfing her into the biggest hug ever while staying strong as she screamed out of agony.

Words couldn't even describe how much it hurt Kirishima to see her cry like that, to see her so broken and the fact that he realized Tatsuki didn't know his father was gone and didn't understand he wouldn't be coming back for dinner or to play Hero and Villain with him made him tear up more and break down.

Kirishima watched the newlyweds talk to each other, Bakugou having his usual shit eating grin on his face and (Y/n) smiling gracefully like always.

It made the man smile a bit himself, because HE was the reason they 'got it on' and to see his best friends so happy made himself feel very happy.

Apparently Kirishima had dreamed off a little too long, because Bakugou had made his way to him without the red haired boy noticing with his hands dug into his pockets.

"Shitty hair" Bakugou said, snapping Kirishima out of his daze with a confused look.

Before the red head could even ask something, Bakugou grabbed his tie and dragged him out of the room to the empty balcony that wasn't too far away from the reception.

"W-wha did i do?! Did i stare too much?? Sorry for that i was just dozing o-"

"Eijirou i need you to make a promise to me, a promise that is very important to me" Bakugou said while leaning on the balcony and looking over the forest that was next to the mansion.

Kirishima's eyes had widened when he heard his name being called out by BAKUGOU. The one that always referred to him by shitty hair and on VERY rare occasions by Kirishima..But he had never heard his first name being called out by Bakugou of all people.

"Y-yes, of course. Are you o-okay??" He asked nervously, making Bakugou scoff.

"Of course i am you dumb fuck!" The ash blonde hissed, sighing afterwards and looking down at the forest again.

He tugged at the sleeve of his suit and fiddled around with the buttons. "Look, so like I'm now all married and shit and of course I'll always stay by her side and be there for her protect her with my life..But, i wanna be real here"

Kirishima listened, completely interested in his story since serious Bakugou wasn't a Bakugou he saw a lot. He stood next to his friend and also leaned on the railing but only with one arm, his eyes still on the pro hero.

"I'm a pro hero, a famous one. I've been through some pretty rough stuff, stuff that's kinda dangerous you know..We both know there might be a chance I'm not gonna be around anymore at some point." Bakugou said with a small grin, even though his eyes hinted to the fact he was hurt by the thought of it.

Kirishima's eyes widened and he jumped up. "Don't say that bro! You shouldn't think so negatively, I'm sure that'll never hap-"

"I'm not saying it will happen, but there's a chance it might and if it will happen i wanna make sure that i can go while being sure you're there for (Y/n) and take over my bloody damn fucking job as her partner!" Bakugou hissed while clenching his fist and pushing himself off of the railing, starring daggers into Kirishima's eyes.

"W-what..?" Kirishima muttered as his eyes widened in shock.

Bakugou groaned and unclenched his fists, rubbing his neck while starring off at the forest. "She's gonna be all by herself then..No one to be by her side, No one to comfort her, No one to protect her and make her happy!" He said, surprisingly calm. A small grin made it's way onto his face as he sighed.

"And i know my damn wife, my damn soft, kind but stubborn wife..She'd say she's gonna be all fine and all, keep on living her life while in reality she'd be breaking on the inside and crying every time she'd come home to an empty house knowing it's gonna stay empty for the rest of the day..It would eat (Y/n) from the inside and she wouldn't share it with anyone" He said, finishing it off with a scoff and a small snicker.

Kirishima grew extremely quiet as he felt the cold night breeze blew through his hair, even though it didn't move due to all the gel that had been put in there.

Bakugou looked up at Kirishima and dug his hands into his pockets. "I want you to take care of her for me, Eijirou Kirishima" He said, his face calm as the wind blew through his hair.

Kirishima blinked his eyes a few times before quickly shaking his head, his eyes tearing up at the thought of Bakugou dying. "N-no, Katsuki come on you can't say such thing-"

"The moment you hear I'm dead i want you to immediately be there for her, heck fucking run to our house or some shit. Comfort her and don't you fucking dare leave her side for those couple of weeks, even months. Of course it'll take time for the wound to heal and turn into a scar, but please, take care of her, be there for her, protect her, make her happy.." Bakugou said while gritting his teeth.

"..Greet her every time you get back home, If she's sick take care of her, If she's sad be there for her and hold her in your fucking hard ass arms. If i have kids, Take care of them too and hang every damn drawing they draw up on the fridge. Tell them how much of a badass their father was and tell them all the cool stories I couldn't tell."

Kirishima put up his hands as tears threatened to spill out of his eyes. "K-katsuki stop it, god you're almost gonna make me lose my shit"

"Play with them, go to their plays games whatever their hobby's are, go to their graduation and be their fucking #1 fan with whatever they do..If i have a daughter, walk her down the fucking aisle when She get's married and make sure She get's a good guy and to make the boys fear you when they first meet you" Bakugou said, his hands starting to tremble from all the emotions that were currently rushing through his veins.

"..Don't forget to make my kids feel accepted no matter what, because any kid of mine no matter what is gonna be the fucking best" He said with a big smirk plastered in his face.

Kirishima's bottom lip started trembling as 'manly' tears started to spill out of his eyes.

"And most of all, you better fucking love her like there's no tomorrow. Because you're lying if you say you don't love her, i see the way your eyes soften every time you look at her and how your cheeks turn a soft pink color every time she laughs at your jokes and touches you" Bakugou said with a deep sigh, surprisingly not seeing furious about it what Kirishima had expected.

Kirishima blushed and scratched the back of his neck, not denying any of it whatsoever. He focused his attention back to Bakugou, again with holding in his loud sobs.

Bakugou held out his hand. "So if you can promise me to do that for me-"

"I promise, Katsuki!" Kirishima shouted while launching himself forward and wrapping his arms around Bakugou's neck, staining his suit with tears.

Bakugou sighed and smirked, patting Kirishima's back. "Good"

Tears streamed down Kirishima's face as he broke down and hugged (Y/n) closer to him, rubbing his hand up and down her back soothingly.

Words didn't get spoken, after all what was there to say?

'It's okay?' No, because it wasn't okay. Bakugou got killed, their best friend and they both saw it happen.

'Don't worry, I'm here?' That was just something cheesy to say which didn't fit the situation and Kirishima knew much better than that.

'You're gonna be okay' She was gonna be broken for a long amount of time, her heart having to heal for atleast two years.

'No need to cry' was already obvious why that shouldn't be said.

Kirishima sniffled and inhaled, looking down at her. "I'm here, and i promise you that I'll never leave your side..I can't replace Katsuki and that's definitely not what i want to do, but I'll help you get through this and i want you to know that you're not alone, (Y/n)" He whispered as his tears fell on top of (Y/n)'s hair.

The woman didn't respond with words but she gripped Kirishima's shirt and buried her face into his chest, continuing to cry and sob her eyes out.

Kirishima pulled her closer and buried his nose on top of her head.

He wasn't sure what was going to come, what things would happen after this and how this would affect everything..But he was sure of one thing,

And that was that he was going to held onto that promise he made 6 years ago.