#'you two specifically should not do this as you are already cursed and in danger' or whatever

[moodr1ng]

ive always been told id be the first person to die in a horror movie bc im always like "omg yay lets use a ouija board" "we should totally do this evil summoning ritual we found online" etc. and all my friends are like "we shouldnt do that in case of the horrors" and im like boo this sucks. whatever though. i think its just another of my endearing qualities.

[euthymiya]

i think wriothesley would get rlly riled up by a lil grab of his pecs or biceps or is that js me

Your hands are little wanderers. They’re mischievous. Unrelenting. Borderline troublesome. They’re sneaky old things that always stress Wriothesley out—he never knows when they’ll come…or where they’ll target.

“Wrio,” you hum, walking up from behind him. He instantly stills, arms slumping down from their position to go in for a punch at the punching bag. (He doesn’t want to hurt you, and you know that—that’s why you’re specifically not supposed to walk up to him from behind during his work outs.

You never listen, of course. It’s not really your forte.)

“Something you need, sweetheart?” He grunts.

“Are you done?”

“I’ve hardly even started,” he raises a brow.

You grin at that—and it’s a sneaky, smug look that makes him think he should start to count his days. Surely, if he’s the target of such a look, his days are numbered. You must already have his death planned out with that scheming little expression of yours.

“Wanna know what I think?” You ask sweetly, voice a low drawl as your arms wrapping around his waist. Your thumb slips under the black tank top he sports when he’s training, and he swallows thickly. “I think that you should finish up. Don’t you have other things to do?”

“Oh?” He feigns innocence, “Do I?”

(It’s not working. His little act isn’t even close to convincing. Not when your thumb rubbing circles into the skin under his shirt is enough to strain his voice ever so slightly—and you can hear it, too. He’s doomed.)

“Yeah,” you grin. It’s cheeky, and a tad bit amused. Maybe even victorious, like you’ve already won. “C’mon, baby. Do you always have to be so serious? Let loose a little.”

And then your hands do their wandering. The dangerous, risky wandering that makes his mind start to spiral out of control and imagine dragging the both of you into compromising positions. It’s never really Wriothesley’s fault—you make him behave that way. You and your sultry looks and doe-eyed stares. Those pouty lips and giggly words.

(He’s doomed. He always was.)

“Hey,” he coughs, voice strained. His hands swat yours away as they travel up to rub over his muscles abs. “Keep your hands to yourself. This is a public place, you know.”

“But according to the duke’s orders, the pankration rank is off limits at this hour.” You whisper it like it’s a secret. Like he didn’t make that cursed rule himself. “The duke is big news around here, y’know—his rules are very strict.”

“I’m sure,” he sighs. It’s resigned. Defeated. Almost breathy if you listen closely—and no, it’s not because of his work out. It’s because of those evil, conniving little hands of yours, still inching up and up. And up.

“Wrio,” you murmur, calling his name out like a siren. The ocean is separated from him by thick, metal walls that keep him safe. But still, he feels oddly close to drowning.

“What?” He closes his eyes and asks through a croak.

Your hand glides over his pec, giving it a little squeeze—and with that, every ounce of composure slips from his fisted grasp.

“C’mon,” you plead, a smile in your words as you realize you’ve won. You squeeze his chest under your palm once more for good measure, and he grunts in warning. “I’m bored. Forget working out. Let’s do something fun. Just you and me.”

“Yeah?” He shakes his head, grabbing your hand as it squeezes his pec a third, daring time. He turns, pulling you flush against him as he throws you a wolfish grin. “I guess I can think of a way or two to keep you entertained, sweetheart.”

This time, his hands wander—but unlike yours, they wander downwards. (And yes, you also happen to choke on a small hitch in your breath, too, when his hands give your ass a firm squeeze.

It looks like you’re both a bit doomed.)

ur right nonnie you squeeze his pecs and he’s taking you against the nearest surface 🙏

[delzinrowe]

Got amy headcanons about being in a secret relationship with jjk? I feel like they'd all have separate reasons for keeping everything down low

For the sake of my sanity i'm not doing all of jjk like in my hc posts I hope you're not mad at me for that

A/N: I only choose a few ones, if you want someone specific I haven't picked just send me another ask and I'll do my best. But these are the characters I feel the most and feel I can portray well. Includes: Yuji, Megumi, Takuma ☆ Choso, Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Yaga

Yuji just kind of accidentally kept it a secret. With Nobara around she talks a lot, and Yuji listens, he doesn't interrupt his friends. He was going to tell them about you two eventually, but whenever he wanted to tell them something came up, mostly missions. And after a while it slipped his mind that he hasn't told anyone. He's a kind and good guy, but he's not pushy when it comes to his own daily life. When he has good news he likes to share it with friends, but after a while of trying and failing he forgot about it.

Megumi is and has always been a more private and reserved person. He takes a while to warm up with others. So, once it got serious with you two he asked if you're okay with keeping it more private. Or rather, he implied it, you already knew it was gonna be more private. He doesn't like his private business being the talk of the town. After a while he would confide into Yuji, with the promise of him not telling anyone. Nobara? Hell no, out of the question. Megumi's main goal is to keep Gojo in the dark because the poor boy would never hear the end of it if Gojo ever found out he has a partner.

Takuma would only tell it to Nanami. He might have the feeling of shouting it from the rooftops that the person he likes also likes him back. But he would much rather just confide in his mentor. Which he does. And thanks to Nanami's private nature he doesn't tell anyone else, but he is proud and happy for Takuma. That's enough for our local skaterboy. Hearing that his mentor is happy that he's happy is all he needs, therefore no one else really needs to know about it. After a while he would lose that mindset and it would be replaced with "fuck it, I wanna show you off" which is what he does. He'd have his arm around you and walk around the entire school grounds and all over Tokyo just yelling "That's my partner!" "Watch out, happy boyfriend coming through." He's the epitome of golden retriever energy.

Choso doesn't really know the etiquette of dating, his worst fear is to do something wrong and lose you. He isn't sure if being in a relationship is something you keep private or parade around. He does see couples on the street and on tv, but it's still new to him. He's only had a human body for a few short months. The thought to introduce you to his sorcerer friends doesn't even really occur to him until you ask, which prompts a conversation between you where he asks you all sorts of questions on this matter. He eventually settles for only telling his brother Yuji as he's concered for your safety. He is a curse who murdered people after all.

Gojo keeps your relationship a secret from the very first moment, even if you wouldn't have expected it from him. Being known as the strongest came with a big target on his back, he's had bounties on his head since he was a toddler. Even if he can easily take care of any threat, he would do anything to keep you safe and out of danger. The less people know about his sole weakness the better. He does apologise and spoil you to make up for it, but he cannot and will not risk putting you in harms way. If you're involved his judgement isn't as clear as it should be.

Geto could potentially have two reasons, depending on if he stayed with jujutsu high or defected. If he stayed the most prominent reason to keep your relationship a secret would be Gojo. His best friend has his nose in everything, but it's also partly since he's known as one of the strongest and you prove a weakness, in that sense he's similar to Gojo. Now... if he defected, then it's solely to keep up appearances as cult leader. Since he's not stupid he knows that a lot of people only join his cult because of his looks, and he fears that once it's known he's in a steady relationship that his cult would lose a lot of members.

Nanami is not a secretive person, but he is a more private one. He doesn't like sharing his business everywhere. What's going on in his private life will remain private. He does not like to mix personal with work, therefore he would keep your relationship quiet because it simply has no place in his work life. Especially since coming home to you is his happy place that brings him peace, he wouldn't taint that by mixing personal and work.

Yaga is an authority figure. As principal he holds a certain status, while he doesn't care much for the authority he holds, he does need to be respected. It's therefor a mix between Gojo and Nanami, where he doesn't want to mix personal too much with work, but also doesn't wanna put a target on your back. Considering he is also the only one who knows how to make cursed dolls he is already the target of some people. Dragging you into all of this would only be harmful. The only one who really knows about you two is Panda, obviously.

[drewstarkeyluvbot]

Grudge

Rafe Cameron x ex-best friend pogue!reader

Summary : In a desperate attempt to seek for protection during a thunderstorm, you find yourself at the doorstep of the one person you wished never to encounter face to face again. Old wounds that were supposed to be healed forcefully rip open in the time span of one single night.

warnings: angst ,cursing , this is kind of sad

word count : 2.8k

part two , part three

~

You forcefully grit your teeth together as the rain rapidly cascades over your windshields , anxiety bubbling Inside your chest as you harshly grip your steering wheel.  The windscreen wipers move quickly in an attempt to clear your vision -  but to no avail -  lightening striking in the distance only contributing to the intensification of your rapidly growing nerves. The decision to pull over is rushed and evidently not calculated , safety and survival prevailing over any other sense, specifically the sense of familiarity.

Your feet move hastily, hands coming up to shield yourself from the strong rain, inevitably getting drenched in the process of running towards the front door of the first house your vision catches , safety prevails over familiarity, because it was not a random house.

Your knuckles knock against the door forcefully, fingers attempting to move the wet strands of hair that are obnoxiously blocking your view. Your mind is already building the dialogue in your head that you need to state to convince the poor person who you disturbed in the dark hours of the night about the hazards of your situation. Shouldn't be hard, right?

Well, it definitely wouldn't be a challenging process if the person that was indeed located behind that door was  an old woman , or a father that had just returned home from work, or even - for god's sake - a ten year old kid that stayed up past his bedtime to play brain rotting  videogames. It would have been so simple, wouldn't it?

It's not.

The moment the door slowly opens, and your gaze falls upon icy blue eyes, you wish you had continued driving your stupid and rusty car until you crushed into a fucking tree or another incoming car that had followed the same irrational logic that you had.

You presume Rafe Cameron silently wishes you had done the same thing.

When you filter the other's presence,you stare at one another for what feels like utter eternity, and you wish the earth could magically open and swallow you whole. That would certainly be a better fate.

"Y/n " His voice physically makes your chest ache, and you're genuinely contemplating turning your entire body around and disappearing into the night.

"Rafe" You reply breathlessly , desperately trying to snap your reckless mind back into reality before it approached dangerous territory.

Rafe opens his mouth, he closes it, he's confused. "What - what is - what are you doing - "

What?

You shake your head ,  interjecting before he can complete his sentence , "I was driving when the storm hit, my house is far away so I just stopped the car and run to the first house I saw."

As if he doesn't already know where your house is.

He slowly nods, jaw clenched and tight as his eyes carefully take in your drenched form. You truthfully believe he's going to spit out a mere "not my business " and harshly shut the door on your face, never to be seen again. That's the kind of person he is now, anyway.

Zero amount of words are exchanged ; Rafe offers you a plain nod and moves his large body to the side, creating a space for you to slide past and enter his house. You oblige , wordlessly so.

Your arms loosely wrap around your body, teeth gnawing on your bottom lip so gratingly you're certain you'll be feeling the metallic taste in your mouth soon enough. You hear the door closing behind you, loud footsteps ensuing. Should you turn around, should you stay frozen in this position till the storm passes and you can desperately run out of the house?

Do you sound stupid?

You clear your throat, remembering courteousness is one of your finest traits: even towards people that most certainly do not - or will ever again - deserve it. Therefore, you turn back around.

You open your mouth ever so slightly, "Thank you ." It's spoken in a firm yet evidently awkward tone, your body showing loud signs of discomfort. Rafe is still eerily quiet, and you absolutely despite the sound of his silence. A sigh falls from his lips, hand coming up to absentmindedly scratch the back of his neck as his legs begin moving, "I'll grab you a towel."

The moment he leaves the living room to fetch a towel, it feels as if the air can finally reach your lungs. You deteste it , the feeling of hopelessness and desperation only Rafe Cameron can ignite.

Rafe Cameron, the same Rafe Cameron that would secretly pick lillies from his back garden and gift them to you on a daily basis when you were 5 . The same Rafe Cameron that would scream at and threaten any malicious kid that would so much as look at you funny when you were 10. The same Rafe Cameron that knocked on your bedroom window and cried in your arms the entire night after an atrociously messy fight with his father when you were 15. The same Rafe Cameron that isn't quite the same anymore.

He's returned after some moments, awkwardly handing you a towel to somewhat dry yourself up. You offer him a nod with uncomfortably tight lips as you grab the towel , attempting to dap at the excess water dripping off of you.

You thought that silence would be the only language you'd be speaking tonight, but Rafe Cameron has different intentions.

"So ," He speaks up, effectively catching your attention once again, "What were you even doing out this late by yourself?"

You have no idea why that would ever concern him.

You let out a small sigh, squeezing the water from your hair with the small towel. "I was working."

You can discern the small but intentional raise of his eyebrows ; his lips are slightly parted and his tongue lightly pokes the inside of his cheek , "You were working." He peculiarly repeats your own words before nodding to himself , "And you usually pass through my neighbourhood when you return from your job?"

The implication hangs in the air like a bitter and ill-intentioned remark.

You halt your movements, looking at him with a raised eyebrow ; a bitter laugh falls from your lips when you catch on to  what he's trying to indirectly state. "I didn't purposefully drive through your neighbourhood to take shelter in your house during the storm, if that's what you're trying to imply, Rafe." You scoff , annoyance finally starting to bubble up inside your chest.

He responds to your comment with a scoff of his own, shaking his head. He clicks his tongue, "Right." He breathes out, "Since when do you work,by the way?"

It was as if his words ignited a fire inside of you, a fire that you had so desperately been trying to put out in the last couple of years, a fire that had finally downgraded to a weak spark and should not - under any circumstances - turn itself back into a conflagration for Rafe Cameron.

Because how would he know when you started working when he cut you out of his life like you meant nothing?

I scoff again, gripping the towel to keep my anger at bay. "Yeah, Rafe, some of us actually have to work." My tone is merely bitter, sarcastic and full of distate.

Rafe's eyes widen , his face scrunching up into that resentful scowl he displays when he's annoyed ; He laughs , humourlessly so , before he speaks in a cautious manner. "Don't start."

Don't start?

Your lips fall into a tight line before you absentmindedly shrug , "I'm not starting anything."

Rafe instantly scoffs at your reply , "Oh, you are." His tone is tremendously aggrieved, "You're starting something you don't actually want to start."

You take a deep breath, dropping the towel on a nearby table as you meet his icy gaze. "Why, because you'll be reminded of how horrible of a person you are?"

You started.

Your words ring inside his ears, Adam's apple bopping on a gulp as he clenches his fists. "Don't do this." He speaks lowly, "Just wait until the storm passes,so you can leave."

The bubble of fury and frustration inside of you painfully snaps at his display of indifference, your ears ringing as you abandon each and every ounce of self-restraint and patience . Pain is the most powerful emotion, especially if its cause lacks a rational explanation.

If it lacks closure.

"Do you ever regret it?"

He stares at you for a moment, his gaze shifting from irritation to feigned confusion  , "What -" You cut him off before he can mutter his supposed bewilderment . "What you did, Rafe." You supply  , "Are there nights that you think about it and feel remorse?"

You can see his fists clenching in pure anger ; his face is contorted and his Adam's apple bops on a gulp once again before he speaks in a furious hiss, "I did the right thing."

You laugh , the sound dripping with bitterness and pure venom. "The right thing? Throwing me away like a piece of fucking garbage was the right thing?" You can feel the sensation of your throat clogging up and your chest tightening , a nasty sensation.

"What did you fucking expect, Y/n?" He immediately snaps back in a furious manner, his chest heaving uncoordinatedly . "People grow apart, it's normal -"

You immediately shake your head, interjecting again before he can ensue spitting out dense excuses. "People grow apart for logical reasons, not because  money got to their head and they didn't want to be seen with someone like me because their people would talk!" You practically scream at him, and you want to keep screaming, probably until your throat gets scratchy or your vocal chords break.

Rafe clenches his jaw, a nerve being striken at your earnest and truthful words. He splutters for a moment, shaking his head. "It was just a childhood friendship, nothing more."

You want to scream and cry, hit and yell at him until he falls to his knees and begs like a desperate little boy.

"Just a childhood friendship?" You taste his words in your mouth, laughing humourlessly at the irony of them. "I was by your side your entire life , and you weren't when I needed you to be." You hate the feeling of your throat clogging up, because it simply indicates hurt. You don't want hurt, you want anger. When hurt prevails over anger, you don't achieve the desired result.

Rafe's heart involuntarily clenches at your words , the profound truth behind them a sick reminder that he had indeed failed you.  He merely shakes his head ,"yeah,well,i was a kid too." He mutters, his voice cold. "I had my own struggles , you weren't exactly the center of my fucking universe."

You hate the version of the person that is standing in front of you, because it's so foreign, he's a complete stranger.

"But I didn't throw you away!" You scream at him, your hands raised in the air in a showcase of desperation. "I was sixteen! I didn't throw you away every time you got mad, every time you screamed at me,or insulted me!" He gulps at your words, wishing you could just stop , stop making his fucking stomach churn in the way it is now.

You don't stop. "I didn't throw you away every time you came to my house drunk! And I didn't throw you away when you drunkenly told me you were in love with me while you were puking in my fucking toilet and never spoke about it ever ag - "

"Shut up!" He screams, hands desperately coming up to grip his hair. "Just- just shut the fuck up, please" he spits at you, icy blue eyes boring into yours. "I didn't have a fucking choice!"

Your brows furrow immediately,a scoff falling from your parted lips. "You didn't have a -"

"No,I didn't!" He cuts me off instantly,his tone leaking desperation. "What was I supposed to do,hm? Stick my neck out for you? Risk my reputation? We're from different worlds ,you never understood that." He retorts , his voice harsh.

"No,I never understood it,and I still fucking don't." I shake my head, "You're looking for excuses, you know you're in the wrong, from the moment you started ignoring me, you knew you were wrong."

Rafe does know he's in the wrong, something he - stubbornly and pridefully - will never admit.

An empty silence ensues, painful glances exchanged. Your eyes bore into his,in an awful attempt to find a part of the Rafe you once knew behind them, to melt the ice that conceals everything beneath it with the warmth radiating from your eyes. It is pointless,he cannot be saved.

"I wish I could make you understand, Y/n" He whispers , his voice taking up a softer tone. "You know , my - my dad - "

There it is,those words, that person that's behind every cruel thing Rafe has ever done.

"Don't - " you raise your palm towards him to signal that you do not want to hear further, "Don't even start, Rafe. I don't want to fucking hear it." You whisper, your throat clogging up. "Your dad? The same dad that made you cry in my arms nearly every - "

Rafe realises he's being put in a vulnerable position, wounds that he has been desperately trying to heal using weak bandages threatening to re-open from one simple conversation. Rafe cannot - under any circumstances - allow that.

"I didn't mean it." He suddenly says , your eyebrows scrunching together in response to his rather ambiguous and irrelevant words. He continues , "That night, when I drunkenly told you I was in love with you." He explains further, "I didn't know what I was saying."

Your nails harshly dig into your palms,possibly leaning dents behind.

"Liar." Venom drips from your lips as you reply to his cruel statement. Liar, liar, liar. He was so drunk that night, he walked to your neighbourhood,his body limply falling on your front porch. You took care of him that night, like you always did. You took him to your bed, wiped his face with a wet cloth and caressed his fluffy hair until he fell asleep. You stayed up all night in pure worry ; you attempted to ignore the feeling that bubbled up inside your chest the moment the words fell from his lips, face first in your toilet .

I'm so in love with you, you're the only one who cares.

You blamed in on the dizziness and the alcohol.

Rafe stopped talking to you a week later.

"So,if you came here, expecting me to fall to my knees and beg for your forgiveness, you came to the wrong fucking place." He spits coldly, snapping me back into present time. "Leave the past in the past ,Y/n, please." It's spoken in a whisper. "Please"

You stare at Rafe Cameron with pure hurt  beneath your fiery eyes.Not anger,not bitterness,not venom, hurt.

When hurt prevails over anger,you don't achieve the desired result.

Because you should scream at Rafe Cameron,curse him and insult him till you run out of words, probably throw a book at his fucking head. Cause that utterly heartless man so much physical pain so it can own up to a mere quarter of the emotional pain you're experiencing. You can't. Not when the thought of what you had and what could have been is the only thing circulating inside your poor mind ,not when he threw away the only valuable connection in his entire life.

You're not angry, you're devastated.

"Do you think I deserved it?" Why are you doing this to yourself? Why do you keep pushing and pushing and pushing when the only person that will bleed after this is you?

Because you were kids together.

Rafe stares at you ,his gaze empty and bewildered. The silence is painful and incessant, but the answer hangs in the air like a mutual, bittersweet understanding. Of course you didn't deserve it,you deserved none of it

He doesn't supply you with an actual response ,which is - evidently - a response on its own.  You understand, fully. You understand that you're practically searching for a needle in a haystack. You understand that the Rafe you're looking for is long gone and cannot ever be revived. You understand that you need to leave.

You offer him a mere nod at his silence, clearing your throat uncomfortably. "The storm has cleared out." You point out, having not heard the strong sound of thunder in quite some time. At least the sky isn't crying anymore.  "Thank you for - you know, yeah." You aimlessly murmur, lips tight and straight.

You don't wait for a reply - not that you were expecting one. In fact, you don't even look into the stupid eyes of Rafe Cameron, your gaze is trained on his stupid posh floor as you hurry towards his stupid luxurious door.

You grip the handle of his door, ready to walk out of his life again.

"No,you didn't."

Confusion courses through your mind for a moment, haltering your movements; you remember what your last question had included, you filter the response he has given you.

Rafe Cameron is at war with himself,and you cannot save him.

You walk out of the door.

~

[pickledcarrotsandradish]

For the situation fanfic ask, could you do Rise Leo for 1. Touch starved/cuddle curse? I love the way you characterize him

This is very kind of you to say!!! Thank you so much!!! So sorry for the delay. I am trying my best to get better at not overthinking one shots, but I still tried my absolute best! hope you enjoy!

Slight CW for issues with eating enough food and language.

In all actuality, the curse should have been funny.

Like, this wasn’t a case of the jelly bones, or his hand being on fire. It was a case of The Cuddles, with the title capitalization and everything.

At least that’s what it said on the pamphlet the receptionist at the mystic clinic told him. Didn’t even need to see a doctor for this. Leo had just gotten got by a couple of yokai kids playing a prank. He hadn’t even been the target! All he had done was jump in the middle of some good natured mystic roughhousing and kinda ruined the mood. It had looked like serious bullying to him! Like they needed a hero!

“Okay…” Leo droned out, bouncing on the balls of his feet to try and ease the ache of something that kept growing through his body, “But shouldn’t I still, like, see the doctor for the cure or whatever?”

The literal Secretary Bird Yokai gave him a blank stare and droned, “The cure for The Cuddles is cuddles. We do not have those kinds of doctors around here.”

“But--”

“Look, kid. I remember hearing about you and your brothers from Hueso. You guys are already the hugging types. You’ll be fine. Now, please, get outta here so I can go on my break.”

So Leo did leave. But not to go home.

Because the night before, he had exchanged some words with his beloved, egg-headed weirdo of a twin.

Donnie must not have been getting a lot of sleep or something, because it seemed to have come out of nowhere. It wasn’t even like Leo was home that often, and yet he found Donnie ready to explode in his room the one time he had been in there for the past few days.

They had exchanged words about… something. Leo was already tired, and the curse was making him uncomfortably itchy and chilly. It had been all, “You need to rest,” or “You need to eat” and stuff like that. The specifics blurred together with talks he’d been waving off with his other family members.

But the point was that the argument ended with Donnie yelling,

“I can’t trust you to take care of yourself!”

That was the part Leo remembered crystal clear. That made him grind his teeth and force his body away from those who might give him the cure for this.

He’d show Donnie. He’d take care of this all by himself.

Day 2

Since Leo had gotten cursed and informed of the curse close to midnight, he decided to go ahead and call it the end of day one. Sure it hadn’t been a full 24 hours with the curse, but it had marked the end of that day. It made sense if you just thought about it like how Leo was.

And midnight was the perfect time to run around the city doing patrol again. The human city this time. Thankfully, the Hidden City was doing just fine this long after the invasion. And he kept his promise to Mikey about taking a break from patrolling NYC.

Break time was now over, so back to work.

The curse didn’t even make it that hard. While he was running and jumping, his mind was too focused on everything he was doing. Taking in all the sensory input to try and find someone else in danger. Kinda like how he felt better when he was sick if he watched a YouTube video while playing a video game. Too much else going on to think about yourself.

And he was able to help. Like, there wasn’t as much mutant crime going on. And the human stuff had, like, humans to help out with that. Leo couldn’t provide any more help than a firefighter or an EMT could in those situations usually. But he still kept a lookout, just in case.

What good he ended up being able to do was this:

-Portaled some drunk dudes back to their dorm when he saw them trying to unlock their car. -There were these two dudes who had been yelling really loudly at one another. They ran off in opposite directions the moment Leo stepped into view. -Gave a tourist directions to the M&M store in Times Square (even though it hurt his soul to help anyone get to that waste of space.)

Which. Not the most impressive Hero List of the night. The only thing he could really count as heroic-heroic was when he stopped an actual fight-fight at a late night bus stop.

Granted, the way he did that felt a bit embarrassing. When he tried to catch the dude who got shoved, they both ended up falling. Leo was the only one with a bloody nose and a scraped cheek, while the other two would be brawlers scrammed the moment they realized an actual i-r-l mutant was there.

Because of that, Leo decided to call it a night. The sun was coming up, so it was time to start day patrol.

He stopped by home to get the stuff he needed to stop the bleeding. Humans were already scared enough as it was. Looking like this wasn’t going to score him any more charming points.

So Leo pulled the ice pack of random assorted veggies that no one ever used out of the freezer, and sat down at the kitchen table to get to work patching up his main talent.

But he should have grabbed a coffee on the way over there, cause his mind completely skipped over how Mikey was also asleep at the table. Little dude woke up with a jolt the moment Leo sat down and realized he wasn’t alone for some reason at 6:33 AM.

“BWAH!” Mikey woke up with a jolt, “Leo! You--What happened?!”

“I fell,” Leo simply explained while treating his wounds, “But what are you doing here?”

“Cause you said you weren’t going to patrol the city tonight!”

“Yeah, I took a break that’s what I said and that’s what I did.”

What he expected was another worried Mikey who would hover around him and ask a million questions like any of the answers would be “I will shatter like a dropped mirror in ten seconds.”

He underestimated the power of a sleepy Michalangelo. His baby brother groaned in annoyance loudly enough to wake the entire lair and the city block above.

“You know that’s not what I meant!” He accused, reaching across the table to grab the hand Leo was using to press the cold pack into his recently bandaged cheek and

Now that Leo wasn’t doing anything important, there was nothing to distract him from the Cuddles. And it was the contrast that made everything feel that much more intense.

That even though the hand Mikey was grabbing was holding the ice pack, it felt so much warmer than the rest of his body. That that hand was the only part of him not aching and shivering. As if he was completely submerged in ice water that could also have you feeling itchy, and his hand was the only thing above water.

It left him wanting to climb out of this hole and cling to his brother. Let his body feel relief and peace. Mikey was still talking about how Leo lied to him as the slider reached out for a hug

“No need, Michael. Apparently, Leonardo can take care of himself.”

He dropped back into the hole of ice water willingly.

Leo forced himself out of Mikey’s reach and turned to give Donnie his most pleasant “fuck you” smile.

“That’s right,” Leo responded, “I take much better care of myself than the dude who consistently gets four hours of sleep a night.”

“Says the only one of us who is actively bleeding at the moment.”

“Oh, am I? I see you have your battle shell on at dawn again. You didn’t sleep in it all night again, did you?”

Leo batted his eyes while Mikey turned his ire to the dum dum moron named Donatello. Even blew the two of them kisses as he announced how he was now going back to bed, like someone who could take care of himself.

And he was going back to bed. He had left bed a few days ago, and now he was going back to bed. Proving his point that he was by far the more responsible twin and that the others should be on his side and that he was the one who was owed an apology.

Even if he didn’t get any sleep because he couldn’t stop shivering. This was fine. He was hugging his pillow and that should count.

Day 2.5

No sleep and four hours later, Leo was out looking for something hot and fast to eat in the kitchen.

Normally, he’d be making coffee in this kind of extreme exhaustion. But the machine had already been stolen to the lab of an evil-fucking-mastermind. So, that was off the table to go and try to fight for that back. Not worth having to go and talk to someone so stubborn.

Tea wouldn’t give him the caffeine shakes he needed, but he also couldn’t drink a refrigerated energy drink with how cold everything was. The kind of cold that made him want to curl up under the heat lamp with his full winter gear on at the bottom of a turtle pile or--

So that was how Raph found him microwaving two monster energy drinks at ten in the morning. He didn’t deserve that weirded out look. It wasn’t like they were still in their cans anymore. Leo remembered that after three seconds of his own personal lightshow.

“But, why?” Was all that Raph asked.

Leo shrugged, “Want a hot energy drink. You want some too? I might be on to a new thing here.”

And that got Raph to laugh, which did a decent job warming Leo up from the inside out. Would have probably completely thawed him out if it weren’t for the stupid curse thing.

He’d let the curse be permanent if he could keep making Raph laugh and not worry.

He was worried though. Clearly wanted to say something and kept stopping himself in the middle of it. Eventually, the slider gave him a noogie and kept on walking while he told him to keep it to just the one drink.

It was because the dude kept walking, that he didn’t see Leo’s whole body turn to follow him before stopping himself. This was good. That’s what Leo wanted to have happened. Excellent.

Raph kept moving away from him. Awesome. Opening the fridge and letting out the cold air that Leo could swear he could feel from all the way over here. The room seemed to keep getting colder and colder while Raph rummaged through their deli meats.

Leo willed himself to stay right there and watch the numbers count down for his incoming hot drink. Because if he pushed Raph to hurry up and close the door, then he was not going to let go of the big guy who everyone knew felt like a furnace. And Leo was proving to Raph that he could take care of himself almost more than anyone else. Even Donnie. But proving it to Donnie was important for spite and winning, while proving it to Raph was important for like, the world.

Regardless, the slider didn’t let himself move. Just hugged himself while watching the numbers countdown to zero. Raph said something, but Leo was currently too busy burning his tongue on this hot carbonated curse from hell. He almost spat it right back out, but forced himself to keep chugging the weirdly syrupy and steamy beverage. And because of mystic bullshit, it didn’t warm him up.

Stupid mystic whatever with it’s stupid stupid. Fine.

It could keep him from getting warm, but the caffeine should still be kicking in soon. That would get rid of the cotton in his head and the general blegugh feeling weighing him down. Now he just needed something solid so he wouldn’t get the no-food-shakes too badly and--

Raph’s hand was on his shoulder. Leo jumped so violently that it left just as fast as it appeared. There, thankfully, hadn’t been any time to get used to the warmth.

The two of them stared at one another, blinking in confusion before Raph pointed at the family sized frozen pizza, “Sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you. I was asking if--uh--Are you going to be staying long enough to have some?”

“You’re good, dude,” Leo responded automatically, feeling that same sinking feeling of shame whenever Raph apologized for anything these days, “I should have been paying attention--”

“It’s cool. Makes sense that a drink like that would fry your brain.”

“What? Nah, it’s the… best? I was actually just about to make myself another?”

“Pfft! Raph has never seen your poker face be so poor for anything!”

To try and prove his point, and also double down, Leo quickly tried to chug the remaining half of the new radioactive ooze he had made. It showed that what Draxum had done really wasn’t special. He could do it in their underground kitchen no sweat.

And the end result of his bravado had him burping uncontrollably and feeling like he might throw up. Leo was making some very concerning burping noises into the sink while he listened to Raph howl with laughter behind him. It was the most Leo had made him laugh since the invasion, and the sound was like an auditory heated blanket. It was warming him up from the inside out.

That was also because, he realized, Raph was rubbing his back. The way he used to do. Like back when they were kids, or back in the old lair, or when Raph still genuinely liked him.

It was so close to being a hug, and its effects were addictive. Raph’s large hand rubbing across his upper back left a warm feeling in its wake. Just like with Mikey, it made every other part of his body colder by comparison. Like he had splinters all over his body, and Raph had removed them only around his shoulder blades.

“You okay?”

The hand paused in its movements, and Leo almost whined with protest. And realized he was practically hanging onto the sink while his legs had gone weirdly boneless. Who knows how long it had been since the Burps from Hell had stopped, and he had just been standing there. Letting Raph rub his back like there weren’t a billion and one other things Leo should be doing at that very moment.

He couldn’t remember what a single one of those things were, but he knew they existed. The first step was taking a biiiig step away from his very confused big brother. And--aw, shit, the Raph Chasm was back. C’mon, Face Man.

“You got me!” Leo made himself laugh, so Raph wouldn’t be able to see him shiver, “Yeah, that was a bad idea! I’ll go--uh--get something at a bodega or something! I can--yeah! Whoops! Enjoy that pizza!”

“What’s this? Nardo isn’t staying for lunch? Shocking.”

The words got Leo’s mind to go sharp. That was good. Sharp could cut through the cold, and the uncomfortable ache and weirdly itchy feeling that was growing. Like someone had replaced his skin with sandpaper and snow.

Leo walked past his two brothers with a, “Just saving more for you guys! Everyone knows Donnie’s gotta eat! I leave him in your guys’ capable hands! Tah-tah!”

And left for patrol.

Patrol was fine. He ran around and helped people.

He was going to, once he stopped stopping every other rooftop to catch his breath. It wasn’t even like he was winded. But he couldn’t get in the zone like he could last time. And nothing big enough was happening to help keep his attention--

Which was GOOD. It’s not like he wanted bad things to happen to anyone. The city had been put through enough thanks to him. So, this was ideal. It was just his job to keep running around, checking the police alerts, and be there for others when--if he was ever needed. That would be the good thing to do.

So he tried not to feel too much relief when he heard some boaters had gotten themselves stuck in the middle of the Hudson. He could go and save the Coast Guard a trip or something.

It was simple and easy. Portaled to the river. Find the dudes who needed saving. Reconsider his plan to just put a portal under their boat. It could land weird and break. So Leo decided to portal himself over. He’d land on top and portal everyone to safety. It made more sense on how that would work in his head. In his head, doing that would keep everyone happier with him. That meant he was doing good. Which meant

And Leo didn’t stop to consider that the boat was made for specifically two kayakers. So when he landed his big mouth on it, the dumb plastic thing immediately capsized and dunked them all in the stinky river.

If Leo hadn’t already been keeping what Donnie had described as, “a worryingly tight grip on his swords to the point the action could be considered to be anal retentive personality” then he might have lost them. But, he didn't lose them, and he had cleverly responded with “haha, you said anal.”

The point was. Leo didn’t lose control of himself or his swords and was able to portal both the kayakers to safety.

But the boat. The dumb, stupid, probably expensive boat, went zooming down the river at an annoying speed.

Fine. Leo was a great swimmer. He’d find their stupid boat so they’d be fine and not regret not waiting for the Coast Guard or taking an impromptu swim. Cause Leo would get the boat, and not make their lives any worse. Cause these were good actions which meant he was doing good so he was being good so he was good.

That’s what he told himself when he would take a breath, and watch the cloud of mist appear. Because who goes kayaking in February? Dumb, nice, well-meaning tourists who didn’t know how badly Leo--

There it was. The stupid boat. He portaled it back to the tourists who were already being helped out by actual heroes that wouldn’t have gotten them wet or their boat almost lost. Getting professional care from dudes who knew what they were doing, and not putting on an act the entire time.

Leo portaled himself to a random rooftop and shivered. That was becoming annoyingly recurring. But now with the stupid shit curse and the stupid shit water he was freezing and cold and he wanted to go home but that’s not what taking care of himself would look like. He didn’t get a hug cause--

Wow. That. The thought made him weirdly emotional. Leo didn’t get a hug. He could still have hugs from his family before this curse. But, what if it never got broken? That would mean that--

…

Deep breath. It wasn’t about him. He’d show them. Show Donnie. He was fine. He was good. He was a good brother and a good turtle-person and WOW HE WAS COLD.

Pit stop. He’d keep doing patrol after he dried off. Go home and--

His stupid portals weren’t working. They were taking him to random places again. Started doing this whole annoying routine again after the invasion, and this was probably the worst time for that to happen. Which was great cool and fine and

Warm. Finally.

Yes, he still ached and itched in an annoying way that he could feel down to the marrow of his bones. And he was still freezing, but was warmer than before and he would take it. So he just stood there. Even though if he did stuff like, grab a towel he could dry off faster. There was no way he was taking one step away from whatever was this warm.

“Pepino?”

Aw, c’mon.

Leo had portaled right in front of Hueso’s oven. The oven that the skeleton needed to be putting in a fresh pie right about now. Leo only wished a little bit that he could just climb in the brick oven alongside the ‘za but, that probably would just create more problems down the line.

“S-S-S-S-S’UP!” He forced himself to yell out after an annoying amount of stuttering since his teeth would not stop chattering! It was so over the top! This kind of stuff was only supposed to happen in cartoons!

And that got Hueso to put down the pan and aw c’mon, Leo didn’t have time for this! Neither did the skeleton! That’s why Leo hadn’t really come here since that one time to prove he was okay! They were both busy! Busy being good!

That’s what Leo was trying to explain, in a much cooler way of course, before Hueso stopped him by putting his hands on both of Leo’s shoulders.

It wasn’t exactly like how it had been with Raph and Mikey. Probably something to do with lack of flesh or not? But the relief was still instant, even if not as intense. Like he was finally allowed out of the cold, even if the freezer door was still open. The whole thing made him want to reach out and hug

“Yeah!” Leo shouted, interrupting whatever Hueso had been saying, “M-M-My bad! I’m going right now--”

“You sit down right now or so help me I will--!”

Didn’t have to shout. Going back to the cold and the ache with the itch seemed doubly bad than if he had just stayed in it.

So, malicious compliance. Leo sat down right there on the floor. Or, like, fell to his hands and knees. Point was, he was being good and following the rules. Crawled over to lean against the wall while he waited to hear what else Hueso wanted from him.

This wasn’t so bad. In the grand scheme of whatever, this was nothing. Leo was just uncomfy. There wasn’t anything physically wrong with him.

Which is why it didn’t make sense when Hueso asked, “What is wrong?”

“Ha,” Leo laughed, forcing long and even breaths, “You should--You should ask that to Donnie the next time you see him… Moron hasn’t been taking…taking good care of himself. Never sleeps, never eats, and he’s impossible to talk to.”

That’s who was really bad at taking care of themselves, and had the audacity to try and project it onto Leo. He had enough about himself he was trying to fix, thank you very much! But, he was doing it! Donnie was the rude dude with attitude who was trying to stop his cool self improvement journey or whatever. Throwing stones out of his glass house, only to bounce off of Leo’s totally cool impenetrable house.

And his words didn’t seem to be helping Hueso at all. Okay. Desperate measures.

“I also got a bad case of the literal Cuddles, if you can believe it.”

That time, his words made everything click together for Hueso. And the skeleton gently leaned down and enveloped him in such a nice hug. It was so nice, that it really made all the parts of him that weren’t feeling as nice suck even more. Like, what?

Like how to distract yourself from one pain with another. This hug was taking just enough away from him to leave Leo wanting to cry or run or something. The impossible feeling of feeling worse while doing better.

“You need a hug, and a long one by the sounds of it, by someone you are closer to. By someone you yourself want a hug from.”

His laugh in response to that was not wet.

“Your hugs are always nice. And we’re close, aren’t we?”

Hueso nodded, “Yes, sobrino. Now, eat something and go hug your brothers.”

Grateful to get away from all that wonderful warmth, he stole a slice from a fresh pie and portaled away with some clever joke he couldn’t remember.

And instead of landing in his room like he planned, he fell face first onto the sewer floor. Only managing to keep ahold of his swords, and not the nice gift slice. Great. Cool.

As he walked home, he debated if he should get something else to eat first. And then he thought about if the others had eaten.

Raph and Mikey were really good at making sure the other one ate. Which had been especially important post invasion. Raph had gotten more sensitive to certain food textures, and Mikey’s appetite had been shot. They held each other accountable and worked together to make sure the other stayed fed.

And Donnie…

Well, he also had another food texture to be crossed off his list. That was fine. So did Leo, even if he would never admit it. None of them would be craving calamari ever again.

Donnie benefitted from having Raph and Mikey around. They were a good influence. Even if they couldn’t get Leo to eat as much as they liked, that was fine. Leo was taking care of himself. His twin was the one who needed taking care of. Once he admitted it, everything could go back to the way--

No. He couldn’t think like that anymore either. Things would never go back to normal. Where it was non stop fun and goofs. Because the world was dangerous and they could end up dead if Leo didn’t take it seriously.

But, he could still have fun. The world was worth fighting for. He felt like he cherished and appreciated his family more than ever before, if that were possible. This new normal was fine, as long as they were all together while Leo worked on doing good.

… Was this good? Walking home alone in the sewer, feeling like he was going to freeze solid with every step?

Or, what if he never got home? That he was just walking forever in some sort of stupid purgatory cause he really did die in

“Wow, welcome back. You’re looking good.”

“I know I’m looking better than you are,” Leo responded on autopilot, “Cause you, once again, don’t look like you’ve slept in days.”

“Yeah? Well at least I don’t smell like--Wait, what happened to you?”

Leo didn’t remember when he shut his eyes, but when he opened them, he was under the intense scrutiny of the one and only Donatello with his dumb goggles. And, most importantly, a hand grabbing his arm to keep him from moving.

Something something data points, every time Leo got even the smallest kind of embrace or whatever, it was going to be worse when it stopped. That was a fact his brain was screaming at him now. To shake off Donnie and get it over with. Cause it was only going to get worse before it got better. So rip off that bandaid and jump into that portal before Casey loses his nerve--

“--and what kind of mystic bullshit happened here?! Damnit! Nardo I swear--”

“Oh? You don’t know?” Leo scrambled for a purchase on this possible moral high ground, “Wow! Then it sounds like since I do know what’s going on, I can take care of it myself. Since you don’t know what’s going on. So you can’t help.”

Maybe it had been too mean, by the look that put on his twin’s face was anything to go off by.

But, it got Donnie to yank away and take all the relief with him. Leaving the curse or whatever to redouble.

And, the dude didn’t even really say anything. Just walked away. Slamming a door somewhere.

Cause Leo was taking care of it. This was the good thing to do for… someone. Eventually. Probably.

Day 5

Leo didn’t really remember Day 4.

Vaguely, he remembers shivering in bed. Trying to will himself to move. And then Splinter was checking his temperature and--

If the pain doubled with every released almost hug, then so did the relief. The sensation did not make him cry, but he was ordered to stay on bedrest while he got Purple.

Ha. Jokes on him. Donnie knew now that Leo could take care of himself. The only thing he hadn’t done was admit it out loud.

So, before Splinter could come back empty handed, he’s pretty sure he went on patrol again. Maybe somewhere. Hopefully still New York, since that’s where he had the most hero make-up work to do.

He was just so cold.

That was the worst part. He wasn’t hurt or dying. Wasn’t anywhere near that. And he couldn’t even keep his eyes open; he was shivering too hard. Every step felt like he was moving through air made of fiberglass.

No idea how long he was walking until he remembers sitting on the rooftop edge. Trying to block the wind. There wasn’t supposed to be wind in space.

His phone was buzzing. There wasn’t supposed to be cell service in space either. He remembers watching a documentary on that one time with his family. And there was no way his phone wasn’t just rubble by this point either.

But when he pulled it out of his pocket, there it was. The screen wasn’t even cracked. There should be some sort of humor to that, cause like

Leo always had a cracked phone screen, and he knows his shell must be severely cracked right now. How is his phone going to survive this but not him? Is he really not made of tougher stuff than that?

With numb fingers, he answers one of the calls. It might be Raph’s. Hopefully it’s Raph. He’ll be able to keep everyone safe and--

“WHERE ARE YOU?!”

That was Raph's voice. Or, no, it was Donnie’s voice? No, it was everyone’s voice. They were all talking over one another. Or something. But

Leo was where he was supposed to be, while they were they were supposed to be. The only way for him to do good. So he was good. Just like them.

They were all still yelling at him when he remembered to ask, “You guys okay?”

Donnie was the only one speaking now. Something about how he was gonna kill Leo for removing his tracking chip. But, that probably wouldn’t work with where he was now. No more satellites and stuff so. You know.

“Nardo what are you talking about? Shut up--or don’t--just tell us where you are!”

The question didn’t make sense. Didn’t they watch him? Or, did Raph have them turn away? That would probably be for the best. But, then why were they still looking for him?

“Watch you do what?! You--AUGH! I’m going to strap you down to a bed myself when I catch you--”

No, what? C’mon. They weren’t supposed to… Like, if they couldn’t get him back right away, they were supposed to move on and stuff. Not spend this much time on him.

“Let me, c’mon, let me talk to him--! Leo! Hey, you’re gonna be okay buddy! Is there any sort of signal you can give us? Or, can you tell us what you see around you?”

Leo shook his head at Raph’s voice before remembering they couldn’t hear that.

“Can’t open my eyes… hurts…”

Shouldn’t have said that. Don’t want Mikey to hear.

“That’s okay!” Mikey begged, “Just, can you tell us anything about where you are? Are you still in New York?”

He guessed a part of him always would be? What was--

“GOT IT!” Donnie screamed almost manically, “FINALLY traced his phone! MAN I am hard to track. Okay, are you in this building or on the roof? Cause it’s a big building and--”

That didn’t make any sense. But, that was okay. Donnie was smart like that. Understood things that Leo didn’t. He should have listened to them all before but. Now he was out of time.

“I’m sorry, you guys,” He whispered, “I’m so sorry. I should have listened to you--”

“Do not be sorry nothing to be sorry about--”

Donnie was demanding before Mikey must have taken the phone and asked, “Why are you whispering?”

“Don’t know how much longer… until he finds me,” Leo whispered again, “I love you guys so much. I should have listened.”

His heart was screaming at him to shut up. That last minute words like this just leave loved ones feeling sad. Should have just kept it at his cool, off the cuff hero move talk. That was nice. Wouldn’t haunt them.

They could move on and Leo hoped he would too.

There was some sort of whirl noise like it was coming from a mini helicopter. Maybe? It was a machine noise. Which meant that he’d been found in whatever hiding spot he’d been thrown into. So

“I got you.”

Warmth.

That led to day Five

“Nope, your math is wrong,” Donnie told him from somewhere in the turtle pile, “You were cursed for approximately forty-four hours. Not even close to five days.”

“Prebby sure ish five,” Leo mumbled, head feeling like warm mush. Like fresh mash potatoes from Mikey.

“Eww!” Mikey chuckled from somewhere directly above him, “Not a mashed potato brain!”

All Leo could do was give him a sleepy hum of confirmation.

“Okay, potato head,” Raph was somehow enveloping them, but that’s just what big brothers did and Leo learned not to question it, “Glad you aren’t questioning big brother rules. Now, take another bite.”

It was some sort of warm porridge with little strips of meat and hunks of veggies and it made Leo want to cry with how delicious it was. How it made him feel impossibly warmer and safer with every bite.

But then Raph would say that he would need to pace himself and take it away.

Right. Cause. Can’t last. Gotta keep moving on. Do good.

“You’re doing good,” Raph said, “You’re good.”

The good things come and then they go. And when they go it hurts more.

“Factually incorrect,” Donnie soothed, Leo didn’t know why he had his soothing voice on, “Life is sadly, wonderfully, far more complex than that. That’s why it is so important to have others help you… Which is something I have been neglecting to do.”

Everything was still so warm and comfortable, but,

“I wanna be good without help. So no one else gets hurt.”

His words got him another bite of porridge.

“You’re good,” Raph repeated again, “And it’s good to let us help you. Cause, you’re gonna help us too, right?”

Mikey was making some noise of affirmation, while Leo tried to open his eyes again. Now, he was only having trouble doing that because he was so tired.

“We help each other so we can take care of each other!” Mikey wiped something off of Leo’s cheek, “Life sometimes hurts, but that’s why we help one another, yeah?”

It still didn’t feel right. If anything, it felt like giving up. Letting others get hurt for him ever, wasn’t

“You saved us before,” Donnie said, tightening his hug, “And you’re right that we can’t take care of ourselves--I can’t even take care of myself. So, if you keep saving us, then we’ll keep saving you.”

“But… what if you…”

“Then you’ll save us. And we’ll save you.” Donnie repeated again, “Mikey’s right, that’s just how it works. If you’re worried about us, work with us and we’ll work with you.”

The turtle pile squeezed impossibly closer as Raph tightened his embrace, “We got each other.”

Well. If Raph said it, then it must be true.

That got him a raspberry from Mikey and a dramatic gasp from his twin.

Okay, he could do that. They’d have each other.

[rawbin-hsr]

OMGGG Your latest smut fic is so amazing!!! The smut is absolutely delicious! but....the angst is breaking my heart so...could you please write a continuation or part two where the reader confronts Aventurine's dark internal thoughts and comforts them? A fic where they actually get him to believe that they love him for real, where they tell him that he's not a monster and that he wasn't ruining them.

You've got it ! (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

Aventurine x Reader

You treat Aventurine with more respect than he deserves. (Part 2)

Read part 1 here !

CW: dehumanisation (internal, thoughts Aventurine has of himself, referring to himself as a “monster”), lots of mentions of death, passively suicidal Aventurine, violent imagery (through metaphors, nobody is actually physically harmed), intrusive thoughts, Aventurine thinks kind of vicious things about you (refers to you as "stupid", "brainless", "naive" etc), cursing.

Lmk if there’s anything else I should warn about !!

Small note: Spoiler alert sorry, but you will not completely fix Aventurine in this fic. Making any real progress would take YEARS. The trauma he's gone through and his beliefs about his own humanity are EXTREMELY deep-seated, just one conversation would not be enough to make him truly believe he was loved. Super sorry since I'm sure that's not what you wanted (you specifically requested they "truly get him to believe that they love him for real", but this does still end on a hopeful note so I hope you won't be too disappointed (•ᴗ•,, ) )

Sometimes Aventurine gains enough clarity to remember where he stands. More importantly, he gains enough clarity to remember where you should stand. That is to say, as far away from him as possible. Unfortunately, you are never keen on doing that. 

In these moments of clarity, he distances himself. If you won’t do it, he has to. He needs to. He needs to even when he can feel the little pieces of him that you’ve managed to haphazardly glue together splinter into tiny shards again, even when it feels like every step away is a step walked on shattered glass. He can hardly be called a ‘person’ anyways, what does his suffering matter? He has already lost so many good things, why not add another loss to the tally?

He reads your texts, but he doesn’t respond. He hangs up on you the moment you call. By doing this, he makes sure you know he is alive. Both because he knows it would devastate you if you thought he died, but even more so to make sure you know he is intentionally ignoring you. He hopes at least some part of you hates him. He thinks part of him hates you.

But he can never stay away for long. Like a werewolf called by the full moon; like a vampire to blood; like a siren to a sailor. Thoughts of you always cloud his mind too much to do what is right. He reminds himself he will destroy you. He comes back anyways. He is too selfish not to. 

And you welcome him with open arms every time. Sure, sometimes you yell. Sometimes you berate him. Sometimes you cry. But he never does something beyond the bounds of what you’ll forgive, even though he tries to. You’re patient to a fault. Though he feels bad, he never takes it fully seriously, because you always hold him with so much sweetness, even when your words are filled with righteous anger and justified hurt. You always end it by reminding him that you love him. Something clenches in his chest; something that is not his heart, because he has none. He claims he is sorry, but you both know he will do this again. He always does. You know he will hurt you over and over, even if you don’t know the extent. You know he will test you, that he will ignore you, that he will cling to you and that he will taunt you. You don’t know he will drag his claws through you and tear you to ribbons; you don’t know he will sink his teeth into your neck and drink all your blood; you don’t know he will lure you to sea and drown you. You are never aware of the true danger you are in. 

Maybe that’s why you one day feel comfortable enough to corner the creature that has taken on the appearance of a lover. You sit down next to him in bed one evening after one of his many attempts to push you away, your expression grim. You look straight ahead, right into his dead eyes, unaware that a monster is towering over you. 

“We can’t go on like this,” you say. For one moment, the crushing relief and devastation threatens to consume him, and he’s not sure which of the feelings is stronger. For one moment he can’t breathe. 

He hacks our a laugh, his skin straining. Something is shifting beneath his flesh, something ugly and dangerous. He needs to leave and he needs to do it quickly. 

“You’re right, we can’t,” he agrees, his voice a lot more steady than he feels. He feels the urge to grab you and shake you until you pass out. He feels the urge to suck out your life force until your body is an empty husk. He feels the urge to slam your head into the bathroom sink in the next room over. He feels the urge to shoot himself in the head, because he does not want to do any of that. 

“I love you,” you say, unexpectedly. Or maybe it’s not unexpected. You always say such stupid, brainless things. (You say it with sweetness. The only sweetness he can offer in return is the sweetness of bacteria digesting rotting meat. Is the flesh his, or will it be yours?) He laughs again. 

“I thought we were breaking up,” he says. Smirking, as if it’s funny. (It isn’t.)

“No, we’re really not,” you say firmly. He snorts. 

“Maybe we should.”

You don’t answer. Instead, you come closer. 

Get away, he thinks. Run, you fucking idiot. 

You don’t have many flaws, but the ones you do have are insurmountably big. You are too forgiving, you are too kind, you are too selfless, you are too naive. You will kill yourself doing this one day. You will let him kill you.

Your arms wrap around him. He can’t help but relax. The thing lurking under his human disguise grows more restless. 

“I don’t hate you,” you say, unexpectedly. And this one really is unexpected, because what made you say that? Your arms squeeze around him tighter. “I thought I was being obvious enough about that, but you’re so bad at understanding it.”

The feeling he has is the same as the feeling he gets when he realises a deal is going awry. You are the highest risk stakes he has ever made a bet on: will he ruin you, or will you ruin him? What you could do to him is so much more serious than death. He knows that he is holding a losing hand. He doesn’t even know what he stands to win.

You kiss his neck. He shudders. 

“Why are you so scared of me?” you ask. 

Scared? He is not scared. What an outright laughable concept. Neither of you are scared, but if one of you was, it should be you, but you aren’t, for some reason.

“What gives you that idea?” he chuckles, but his voice is not as steady this time, and he can feel his smile slipping. (What is wrong with him? He doesn’t want to think about it. The answer is always ‘everything’.)

“Your hand is shaking.”

It is, but that is not because he is afraid. Fear is a human response, borne from the desire to live. It is instinctual. It means kicking and screaming, it means clawing your way out of hell for the chance to see another day, it means fighting for the life you don’t want to end. He cannot die, you see. Death cannot occur twice. Just because his body reacts, that does not necessarily mean he can truly fear any longer.

(Then again, maybe his reaction does not come from the thought of his death.)

“I’m not scared,” he says, and his voice sounds a lot weaker than he had expected. You pull him closer, cradling his head against the crook of your neck. His blood is pulsing too quickly.

“It would be okay if you were,” you murmur. “I know you don’t know how to be loved. That’s okay. I’ll teach you. You just have to let me.”

Squash. Slice. Tear.

Maybe you are the monster. He can feel your claws prying his chest open; he can feel your teeth dig into his flesh; he can feel something that is not air fill his lungs. The biggest difference between you and him is that he devours, while you give. You painfully shove something back into the cavity meant to contain his soul, you pump blood back into his system, and you fill whatever gaps are left in him with something that is first cold but quickly warms. 

(He realises, belatedly, that something is pumping inside his chest again. But it can’t be a heart, can it? He lost that so long ago.)

“I’ll kill you,” he manages through gritted teeth, claws digging into your shirt. It is not a threat. It is not a warning. It is just the truth.

“You think too much,” you admonish him. Your tone is as gentle as your words are cutting. “I wish you would trust me more. You’re so determined to ruin your own life, and I don’t like it.”

“That’s just how I am. Deal with it or leave.”

“I’ll deal with it, then.”

Like a werewolf called by the full moon; like a vampire to blood; like a siren to a sailor. He will destroy you. But you accept it. 

He has tried time and time again to push you away, but he is weak. So incorrigibly weak, and though your flaws are insurmountable, his are all-consuming. He is a monster in all the ways that matter. But you stubbornly will not leave despite that. 

(Maybe that makes him a little more willing to try to change his nature. Just a little. Just for you. If you will not leave anyways, maybe he could try to make his presence a little less torturous.)

“Just… please stop ignoring me,” you sigh, nuzzling into his hair. Tenderly, tenderly, tenderly, so tenderly it makes his skin crawl. Your claws are softly piercing into him and he is helpless, unable (unwilling) to fight back. “I can deal with everything else. I just hate it when you do that. I can’t keep going weeks without speaking to you. I know you have some kind of… weird ideas that I’d be better off without you, but that’s not true. I love you, and I love being around you. I can’t help you when you cut me off at every corner.”

Cut, slice, slash.

Something in him breaks. Something he knows cannot be salvaged. Something he knows you would not want to salvage. Something he is not sure if he wants to salvage either, now that it is broken anyways.

He breathes a shaky breath, his fingers — his fingers, not claws, not this time — digging into your back. He buries his face into the crook of your neck, and he does not feel the urge to bite down. Though his eyes feel wet, it would not be enough water to drown you. 

He knows your line of logic is wrong. He knows the fact remains unchanged: he is a monster of a man. He will ruin you. But maybe your presence sparks enough electricity to keep his heart pumping, just for a little while, and maybe he can wait until things actually start going downhill before he lets you go. Maybe he can remember how to be a human for a bit, maybe he can pretend he is. 

“I just… don’t want to do something I can’t take back,” he whispers. “Not with you. You’re the… the only good thing I have left. I don’t know what I’d do if I…”

“That’s sweet, but I’m not as weak as you think I am,” you reply. “I’ve held out this long, haven’t I? Put more faith in me.”

He smiles.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

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

My inbox is open, feel free to send in asks or requests, I'd love to ramble about things <3 Also reblogs are EXTREMELY appreciated the final push I needed to finish this was from a very kind individual who reposted and analysed my writing I've been riding that high ever since they did that ily bro

[lesbojournals]

Who Are You? (Mafia!Stucky x Spiderman!Reader)

a/n: had to repost because it uploaded weird the first time (sigh)

based off of this prompt

"Who did this to you." Steve's voice was cold as ice as he held your shoulders tightly.

You shook your head negatively. You knew who did it. You couldn't bring yourself to say it. Bucky had already broken a glass in his fist upon your arrival, bruised and bloody and frankly a mess.

You couldn't say it. You wouldn't say it.

-

Earlier That Day

It was a typical mission for you. Maybe, you pondered, maybe even a little more relaxed than the typical mission.

The goal?

Stop illegal weapon trading-specifically a trade happening between famous mob bosses Captain America, Winter Soldier and ex-workers of Tony Stark.

Typically a mission like this would have you in a frenzy, because fighting famous mob bosses? You might have unnatural superpowers on your side but they had much more hand to hand combat on their side. Stark had informed you, however, that the infamous bosses wouldn't be present, and it was only someone of much lower status on the mob chain that would be completing the task for them.

Easy enough. You had thought.

But as it turns out, Stark's sources were wrong, and it was the very well known and famously wanted assassin Black Widow that had stood in your way.

You thought your spidey powers would come in handy, after all, you couldn't back out now. You thought wrong.

They helped to a certain degree, after all you scared off the ex-workers and were able to ensure that the mob wouldn't get a hold of dangerous super weapons. What you didn't do was watch your back as the Black Widow hit you upside the head with the bottom of her gun.

This lead you to where you are now. Tied up, in the middle of a dimly lit room with no windows, with no way of communication with the outside world.

"Shit, shit, shit." You whispered, at least thankful your mask was still on.

You tugged at the restraints holding you. You could get out of them, you were sure, but what were you supposed to do once you got out of them? You had no idea what was behind the door in front of you.

You couldn't ponder the decision further, as the door opened.

Your hands shook at the sight of the two men in front of you.

It was your boyfriends, your boyfriends. Your boyfriends who didn't know you were Spiderman, your boyfriends that you thought owned and worked at a boxing club.

You were fucked.

That was when you snapped out of your bondages and went to run.

Steve caught you before you could make it, immediately throwing you to the ground.

Bucky laughed, and Steve had a small smile as he looked at him. "You thought you could get away that easy, huh?"

You didn't respond, crawling back to get back up on your feet.

Both men advanced on you, and you scrambled on what to do.

"Feeling quiet?" Steve questioned, and you couldn't believe your boyfriends were threatening you so harshly.

Bucky smirked. "That'll change."

And he swung for your face, knocking a punch right at your upper cheek bone. He swung again with his metal hand, and you were sure that he had broken your nose.

You tried to stifle the tears, not wanting to injure them.

"Come on, little spider, tell us how you knew about our exchange." Steve threatened, and knocked you down to the ground with one swift kick.

You shook your head negatively, attempting to get up again before Bucky delivered a hard kick to your ribs.

"Should we see, who's the friendly neighborhood spiderman?" Steve taunted, and Bucky nodded with a hum, reaching for your mask.

Alarms went off in your head, and you could feel hot tears running down your face. You immediately sprung up, deciding to whack both of your boyfriends in the face with your webbing with a quick thwip.

This caused both of them to stumble back, cursing loudly as they scratched at their faces.

You took the opportunity to sprint out of the room, following only your intuition to get out of the building. You could hear loud footsteps approaching and decided to slam your body through the nearest window and jump out, shooting your web to swing off of whatever building was in front of you.

You heard gunshots and through the sheer luck of your aim in your swing you avoided them. You continued to swing down the block, crying hysterically as you approached a roof you could calm down on.

When you steadied yourself on the roof you checked your surroundings and immediately ripped off your mask, throwing up as you continued your hysterics.

Everything hurt, including your heart. You felt claustrophobic and couldn't stop the tears running down your face. You pulled your mask back on and kept moving, deciding to head to the top of your favorite spot to retrieve your things.

You changed out of your suit as fast as you could, pulling your hood up to help conceal your bruised face from strangers.

You decided against taking the subway to your shared apartment with the boys, opting instead to walk the long way home. You ignored the multiple calls coming from your cellphone, undoubtedly from Steve or Bucky. You sniffled as you walked, trying your best not to cry uncontrollably again.

When you got to your apartment building, you could see the shadows of Steve and Bucky, moving around frantically. You guessed they were arguing, probably about you not answering your phone.

You let yourself in the building, begrudgingly taking the elevator up to your floor. When you got to the floor, you sighed shakily. You walked up to your door, hearing the boys yelling at each other. As you unlocked it the yelling came to a complete halt, and you slowly opened the door.

"Where have you-baby?!" Steve interrupted himself, immediately taking on your figure.

You inched out of the doorframe. Steve rushed to be in front of you, but you refused to make eye contact.

"Who did this to you." Steve's voice was cold as ice as he held your shoulders tightly.

You shook your head negatively. You knew who did it. You couldn't bring yourself to say it. Bucky had already broken a glass in his fist upon your arrival, bruised and bloody and frankly a mess.

You couldn't say it. You wouldn't say it.

How could you tell them it was them that did it?

You did nothing but break down into tears, falling into Steve's arms as you crumbled on the floor.

"Sweetheart..." he shushed. "What happened?"

You shook your head negatively. Bucky came over to you as well, rubbing your back.

"Who did this to you honey?" Bucky tried to be gentle, but he had the slightest tinge of threat in his voice, one you were now all too familiar with.

"I, I, I..." You couldn't catch your breath, Steve soon taking the chance to demonstrate with Bucky deep breathing to help you ground yourself.

"Can we...can we just go to bed?" You insisted, watery eyes staring up at both of your boyfriends.

They had a silent conversation with facial expressions, and you could tell Bucky wanted to figure out what happened now, while Steve was more lenient on letting you get rest.

Steve helped you up, guiding you to the bedroom. Bucky followed, and you let them change you into pajamas as tears continued to stream down your face. They gently pushed you towards the bed and you got in, sniffling as they coddled you. Bucky gave you a concerned look as he laid in front of you.

"We'll talk about this in the morning, yea? For now just get some rest." Steve spoke, and he wrapped his arms around you from behind.

You felt hot tears trickle down your face.

"Okay."

[kaisers-house-of-desires]

I decided to write a little something that was a little...self indulgent~

Should you want more of my own personal desires in your writing, just request the House Special in your message~

Title: Mostro’s New Toy

Characters: Azul Ashengrotto, Jade Leech, Floyd Leech, m!Reader

Contains: dark themes(dubcon, kidnapping), contractual agreement, bondage, blindfolds, mouth covering/gag, free use kink

Fandom: Twisted Wonderland

Full request below the cut

All characters are 18+

MINORS, FEM ALIGNED, AGELESS/BLANK BLOGS DNI

Reblogs > likes

It had been a week since your end of the bargain was fulfilled. Though you had no magic for payment, Azul had stated he would figure something out and not to worry about it, so after meeting your end of the deal, you were starting to get fidgety when a week had passed and yet nothing had happened yet.

You were rushing to your next class, cursing yourself for being late because of Grim’s antics and for looking away from him for a moment. You started to cut across the courtyard when an arm grabbed you from the bushes. You were about to scream for help when a white gloved hand silenced you. More specifically, it was the duct tape under the hand that kept you quiet, allowing your attacker to hold you firmly in two arms.

“Eaaasy, Shrimpy. No need to get loud~”

The nickname and voice was more than enough to at least solve the question of who was doing this. You muffled out his name, any struggling soon subsiding knowing you weren’t in any actual danger.

Though you couldn’t see, Floyd was giving a dopey grin. “Just here collecting some debt. Azul’s order’s. Time to pay up~”

Retrieving a bottle from his pocket, he shattered it against the ground, pieces flying as smoke surrounded you two, teleporting you back to Octavinelle.

———

Floyd stood with you still in his arms, the two of you now present in front of the Mostro’s manager, Azul in his VIP room. Jade stood beside him, as though ready to act if necessary.

“Terribly sorry for the scare,” Azul started, speaking from behind interlocked fingers, “but you see I’ve figured out the payment I desire from you.”

You tried to speak, but the tape remained firmly in place, only muffling your speech. Azul merely carried on, as if you weren’t trying to object.

“Oh no need to worry about it! Truly, this is the best thing you could give! Jade? If you’d please.”

“Yes, sir.” Jade began to step over to Floyd, the two of them giving the other a look that seemed to be one that only twins could understand. He opened his jacket, retrieving a bundle of deep green rope that was concealed in an inner pocket. Floyd spun you around, holding onto your shoulders and looking down at you with a threatening gaze and speaking in a serious, menacing tone.

“I’d stay still if I were you, unless you want to be squeezed.” It was that look that screamed “try it”. If you moved, be it trying to run off or even just a muscle, you knew it wouldn’t end well. Jade then grabbed your arms, pressing your wrists together and wrapping the surprisingly soft rope around them. He tied them off in a way that didn’t hurt but kept your wrists firmly together, effectively now leaving you at the mercy of the tweels before you.

“I’m sure you’ve figured it out by now, but I’ll tell you anyway, out of the kindness of my heart.” As Azul spoke, a strip of cloth covered your eyes. You were now blind, mute, and unable to fend for yourself in anyway. “I’ve decided your body will be perfect payment. I’ll have you situated in a way where patrons can come in, and use you the way they see fit. The blindfold is for confidentiality, of course, and the tape? Well that’s just for show. If they want to take it off they can~”

You’d be lying if you tried to object. The idea sent a heat straight to your groin, and you could feel a pressure at the zipper of your jeans as you hummed softly.

The brothers were already working on you, leading you into a new spot before pushing you down to your knees. The positioned you like a doll, spreading your legs open before unbuttoning your pants to reveal a partially hard, boxer covered phallus.

“Heeeeeyyy~ Little Shrimpy here is already enjoying himself~ You get off to the idea of this~?”

Hearing it out loud, especially from Floyd, only embarrassed you, and you shook your head to deny it.

“Such a thing is hard to deny when the evidence is right there, (y/n).” Jade’s voice sounded like velvet, smooth and calm. “It’s clear you’re quite aroused by this. There is no shame in admitting it.”

You shook your head with a small “mm-mm”, denying it, but deep down, you knew that lie wouldn’t last long, as Jade was right.

“Now boys,” Azul’s footsteps thudded against your ears as you heard him walk over. “I think we should find out if our new attraction is ready for the guests. What do you think?”

“Oh I get first dibs on Shrimpy?! I wanna test him out!” Floyd sounded all too excited by the idea, and you were already wondering what someone like him would do.

“Mmmm!” You let out an uncontrollable whine, but it went ignored.

“Oh please, Floyd. You’ll ruin our new toy before he even has a chance.” A small laugh laced Jade’s voice. “What if we tested him out together?”

“Wonderful idea!” Azul was more than willing to allow such a thing, his footsteps starting to soften as he stepped to the door. “I’ll be back in an hour. Try not to break our new plaything before I get back.”

“Yes, sir./Yeah, boss!”

The door opened and closed, and you were now alone with the brothers. Thought you couldn’t see them, you could feel their predatory gazes on you before their hands made first contact.

This…will be exciting…~ ❤️

[n0vazsq]

The art of forgivness | PA17 x Reader

pairing . . . paul aron x f!reader

summary . . . When Paul and (Y/n) have a fight, he doesn't know if she'll ever forgive him. However, he decides to take his chance and ends up with a happy girlfriend.

request . . . no!

word count . . . 1.1k

warnings . . . cursing

alexavia yaps . . . little random story idk i kinda stole it from myself <33 tell me who yall want in the next one <3

It was almost noon now, Paul knew damn well that he should be practicing on the sim, but he wasn't. 

He re-read the messages between him and (Y/n), for what seemed like the millionth time. Was he really that much of an asshole? He couldn't believe how she didn't physically attack him, he'd want to do it to himself.

Cocky, annoying and asshole-ish. That was he was to (Y/n), and he didn't understand why she still dealt with him. Perhaps homicide of oneself would be useful now.

His fingers lingered over the keyboard, aching to send her a message. It was so painful to restrain himself, he basically longed to see the blue message appear on his phone.

Sighing, he closed his phone and looked at himself in the mirror. His hair was messy, he looked rougher than usual. He guessed that this would happen when the thing you love most is taken away from you.

He brushed his hair slightly with his hands, and put on the rings (Y/n) gave him, the ones he always wears. Grabbing the bouqet he had bought off his bedside table, he closed his hotel room and went out into the dangerous, dangerous hallway. 

Paul knew he had fucked everything up when (Y/n) didn't respond to his text. Usually, she'd reply within seconds, always surprising him with her fast replying speed.

If only she was as fast to forgive him.

Something like this happening was inevitable, whether they liked it or not. They were both foolish to think that they'd have a relationship with no fighting whatsoever. Stupid of them.

The thing was, it wasn't only this recent fight that made them like this. No, it was multiple mini fights that just made their frustration build up to the point where they both snapped. 

Paul was wrong, he knew that. But he couldn't bring himself to admit it, always so stubborn, both of them. He knew that if he did, he was going to be teased, even though it was the right thing to do.

And after a very heated argument with himself, he'd decided to go apologise to (Y/n). He had promised himself to not get cold feet when he arrived at her hotel room. But as he stood there, a large bouquet in his hands, he felt the urge to run off and never return. 

He was already regretting his choice of flowers: white lilies, blue hydrangeas, and a few blue hyacinths thrown in just for the aesthetic. Why'd he chose blue specifically? He'd never know. 

The shame and guilt felt heavy on his shoulders, weighing him down as he took a deep breath, finally bringing himself to knock on her door. Two heavy knocks and one light knock, that was their code. Paul slightly regretted doing the secret knock, what if she didn't open the door because she knew it was him?

Stop that, take deep breaths and calm down. He'd told himself, the dread slowly enveloping him the longer (Y/n) took to open the door. It was very dreadful.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she opened the door. Paul had to force himself to not start sobbing from relief. (Y/n) had opened the door! This was one small step for her, but a giant leap for him. 

He was brought back to reality by his girlfriend clearing her throat, glaring at him, as if urging him to speak. Her eyes were slightly bloodshot, her face a bit paler than usual. Had she been sick? He knew that she got sick easily, and more often than not, he'd find her sniffling and shoving pills into her mouth.

"Uh-hi! How have you been? I....I brought these flowers for you. I know you don't like red roses so I choose against them but then had the weird urge to-"

"Yes, yes. Thank you. Why'd you come here?" (Y/n) cut him off, her tone frustrated, or maybe annoyed. He didn't know why he started talking so much, good job you idiot.

He should've asked Ralf or even Dino for help. This was a bad idea, he already regretted it. Now he'll never be able to get his girlfriend back and she'll never forgive him.

"Paul! What is the matter with you? Speak." He was so caught up in his own thoughts that he forgot about (Y/n) standing infront of him. Ironic.

"Ah, yeah. I just came here to apologise to you, I was an asshole and I knew I was wrong. I am so sorry, kallis," He mentally facepalmed when she raised an eyebrow at that. "I just want you to forgive me, I should have cared and noticed when people were hating on you. I love you so much and don't want to lose you. So please, just forgive me, (Y/n)."

Wow, where'd he pull that from? He should start considering a job in film writing, or even writing books. His lines would probably have people sobbing.

(Y/n) narrowed her eyes at him, her face pulling into an awkward, forced smile. Maybe he should stick to being a racing driver.

"I appreciate all this, Paul. I really do. But..."

But what?! 

"You really didn't need to bring flowers, you could've just came and apologised. Thank you."

Paul's anxiety vanished instantly, all hints of the shaking hands he had vanishing. His face formed a grin, his whole body relaxing.

"I-h....I love you so much and I can't deal with losing you again. " He managed to say. His voice shook, as if he was going to cry. He really couldn't lose (Y/n) again.

"I can't either, ange. And I'm sorry, for everything. I love you too." (Y/n) gave him an apologetic smile, and he could see in her eyes that she really meant it.

Paul felt immense happiness flood him, all tension from the past few days disappearing. He wouldn't have known what to do if (Y/n) hadn't forgave him

"So...are we back together?...." Paul trailed off, he really didn't know at this point. 

"We broke up?" She said, tilting her head at him. 

"Oh... Well, I thought we did. Uh, sorry, it was a stupid question. I don't know what I'm saying." He scratched the back of his head. Great, Paul, you ruined it now

"How have you been?"

"Quite depressed, actually. You really did light up my life," (Y/n)'s eyes widened, and her cheeks were tinted red. He still has the charm. "Well, I have to go now. I have to do the track walk with Amaury. See you around, I guess."

"See you."

He didn't know what to do with his arms, part of him stepped forward to hug her, and part of him raised his hands to wave. (Y/n) sighed and pulled him into a hug, rubbing his back while she laid her head on his chest. His heart was propably beating out of his chest, still not used to the feeling.

Then, he swore he heard her mutter something like 'I missed you'.

[rise-my-angel]

How people hear the logo "fire and blood" and not think of fascism baffles me. Like it literally sounds like something the nazi's said. I know it might not be fair comparing real life history to fiction, especially in a medieval setting that doesn't match ...BUT THEY HAVE FLYING NUKES GUYS

Bear with me, but I think a lot of it stems from the dragons. In normal, or at least traditional fantasy, dragons are usually used differently in other stories. They can both be antagonists and companions to the hero. They are normally written to be while large and dangerous, also sort of majestic and awe inspiring.

So people see the dragons here, they see people riding them, and they think automatically it's cool. So if you're already someone more inclined to enjoy creatures like dragons, there's a perfect basis. A people whose culture revolves around dragons. It's an easy buy in to the Targaryean propaganda. You will automatically start seeing them in better lights because you like the dragons, whether you realize that or not.

But the problem is, grrm does not use dragons in the traditional sense. Grrm has been very clear that he has written the dragons as essentially, one for one metaphors to weapons of mass destruction. Grrm is also very anti war, a sentiment felt throughout all of his work, how no matter what justification one side or the other feels, it is the people, the lands, the smallfolk who suffer from war the most. So, the use of nuclear weapons in war, is essentially, the worst case scenario in terms of war. Which is what the Targaryeans use dragons for. Thats what Valyria has always used them for.

Fire and Blood sounds cool beacuse it is menacing, but it is more then that. It is the statement that they will burn the country to the ground so they can be kings of the ashes. Valyria used dragons to burn cities to the ground and were incredibly cruel to the slaves they took as a result that places like Bravvos are still massively anti dragon/anti valyrian. Two seperate people of Essos fled across to Westeros to escape them (The Andals and the Rhoynar), then the Targaryeans come to the same place and do THE EXACT SAME THING TO THE SAME PEOPLE WHO FLED THEM ORIGINALLY.

I am certain grrm is not writing dragons as "Its actually okay to use nukes if you're nice to them when you're building them." He's probably more likely to say "no matter what justification you tell yourself, access to such catastrophic destruction at your will and fingertips is a power no one should ever wield."

Yes the dragons are sentient creatures, but these are not like a creature such as a direwolf. One was sent to their human companion by a fate beyond them, and acts more like an extension of their identity and a friend as human and direwolf protect each other. Such as Nymeria biting Joffery to protect Arya, and Arya chasing Nymeria off to save her life for saving hers.

Dany murdered her own slave in order to use blood magic to force dragons back into a world after a peaceful number of centuries without them. Dany then uses them to burn her enemies alive, threaten those who stand against or disobey her and doesn't even consider taking steps to control them until after Drogon burned alive an innocent three year old girl, and even then all she does is lock them away in a manner that will no doubt only make them more angry and resentful of humans.

Not all sentient creatures are the same, and dragons specifically within the world of asoiaf are symbols of the dangerous balance of the world tipping too far. The Doom of Valyria was the result of using blood magic and dragons to tip the worlds balance too far and there is nothing left but a cursed, blighted hellscape left behind to remind man not to toy with nature in ways they will never be able to control. I don't think it's a coincidence that some stories say they found the first dragons in the Fourteen Flames, and it was the eventual eruption of the Fourteen Flames that destroyed Valyria and its dragons.

The Targaryeans didn't need to die with them, it's probably good that at least one family managed to safely leave so at least some aspects of a long, forgotten culture can be remembered in the history books from somewhere. But they do not act like just people. The Targaryeans still see themselves as something like gods.

In their eyes, they are better then the people of Westeros, those people taint their bloodline. They used dragons to force them to be subservient to them when all of those Kingdoms ruled independently for thousands of years before. Then they used those same dragons to tear the country apart.

No one is looking forward to or likes talking about the storming of the Dragonpit beacuse we want to see animal death. We want to see it for what it stands for. An uprising of people pushed too far by a monarchy that uses weapons of mass destruction recklessly beacuse they see themselves as gods. They refused to be subjected to that anymore, and they knew doing it would kill more men then it would dragons but they did it anyways. They looked at the free use of nuclear weapons and decided they will not live in that fear anymore.

Fire and Blood is literally their dragons. It is why they call themselves dragons. They are the destruction of the world, and they see nothing wrong with that.

Dragons plant no trees, and neither do the Targaryeans.

[garvalhaminho]

forgot to post my thoughts while reading the first chapter of tlkof as someone who has only ever read tda and tid (translated from chaotic portuguese)

thais??? who??

dru likes learning by understanding how things work, relatable (SHE'S LITERALLY ME)

she's learning about downworlders and can ask magnus for help, but specifically cristina (the diva who loved studying faeries!!), mark and helen (icon) and kieran and i love that for her 💞 like yes give her one thing she can take advantage of

SHE'S GOT HER MOTHER ELEANOR'S JACKET !! I REPEAT SHE'S GOT HER MOTHER ELEANOR'S JACKET !!

not her dyeing her hair black (ate)

"thais always looked glamorous in her gear" 🤨 no look i know friends can find each other pretty and beautiful etc but when it's ya literature.....it's usually the censored version of "hot as fuck" JUST SAYING

DRU IS 5'3 YAAA WE'VE GOT THE SAME HEIGHT (i think, i'm not american)

i already love dru and thais's friendship 🫶 they match each others freak

dru trains to forget everything she's gone through 😭

oh already the preppy guys and fuckboys (mason hardcastle)

"dru and thais didn't need to ask each other; they knew already they'd be a team" awwww i already know i'm gonna love their friendship

paige ashdown when i see you in the street (no but like an ableist and fatphobic bully? i'll fight that fucker with my bare hands)

thais speaking portuguese in the middle of nowhere i love it

OH AND THE FUCKBOY IS HER EX AND HE SUCKS, if it was me and i had classes with him i'd literally throw myself off a bridge

dru inventing "sex crocodile",,, she's too iconic i fear

"nothing scared [dru}. nothing in a movie, anyway." babygirl 😭 i remember her like mentioning how she liked horror movies but the horror depicted would never be as bad as the real life horror she's experienced

dru still talks to kit 😭 no like imagine your sister still talks to your situationship of two weeks from three years ago, i'd jump off a bridge (yet again)

"there's no danger. we're on academy grounds" famous last words

"she tugged gently at a dangling lock in her friend's hair" THAT'S LITERALLY A MICROTROPE IN ROMANCE MOVIES

"she cursed silently, imagining every bad word she could think of and some she was pretty sure she'd just made up." let dru say fuck pleaseeee. just once. as a little treat, she deserves it

"she wondered for a moment if she should mention that her brother, mark, was the consort of the unseelie king" not her trying to use her connections

ASH SHOWING UP AND HUMILIATING THE LITTLE FAERIE MEN 😭 he slayed i fear

no yeah he's literally royalty he's literally a prince (get that bag girl!!)

dru thinking that ash's eyes were like the sea glass julian loved......oh how i love this family

"'how do you know my name?' she demanded. his eyes narrowed. 'you must be joking,' he said. 'you've forgotten? you can't have forgotten.'" of course she's forgotten a random guy she was with for two minutes three years ago, she has a life, YOU'RE just a SIMP

ash getting yelled at and reprimanded by his daddy or whatever but still literally helping his crush and sending her away to safety 🙏 and your man can't even text you back

julian and emma leaving london to take care of their child drusilla blackthorn

OH AND JULIAN'S GONNA NEED A LOT A THERAPY AFTER THREE BOOKS OF HIS KIDS GETTING THEMSELVES IN TROUBLE

he didn't even sleep during the three nights she was missing 😭

i fear i might become thais/dru shipper under the right circumstances

[changenameno]

My Own (Chapter 2)

Summary:

Geralt finds himself once more on the path, gloomily looking at what lies ahead.
And you? You had no one, no home and certainly no coin. Well that’d be something you had in common. No coin. You two are surely off to a great start…
 

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x Fem. Nymph Reader

Warnings: 18+, blood, cursing, angst, MDNI (there may be smut in the future)

Word count: 1.7K

A/N: So second chapter…hope those who’ll read will enjoy, I certainly did when I wrote it. Again all reblogs and comments are very appreciated (please be kind though)!❤️✨

(FYI: This won’t follow the exact timeline of the Witcher. But Geralt has met Jaskier already.)

!The Witcher characters and world are not mine!



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(In case you’ve missed CHAPTER 1)

CHAPTER 2


Your eyes snapped open. Who was that? Had they found you yet again?

The following silence was almost unbearable. Slowly you sat up, nearly whimpering as your back muscles contracted in response to the burning sensation raging within your shoulder. It felt like the arrowhead was digging deeper into your flesh with every move you made. But the danger drawing closer, forced you to keep at it anyway.

The branch you had carried throughout the whole night, still lay to your right. Carefully and trying to make no noise, you picked it up.

Reaching behind, your left hand rested against the tree bark inching up, while you tried to stand without making your agony known to the whole forest. After what felt like minutes of repressing your pained cries, you were finally standing upright again. Because your right limb was a little useless at the moment, you took the branch with your left hand. Straining your ears, you actually picked up dull thuds from someone heavy, approaching.

Praying that, that someone wouldn’t be able to pinpoint where you were standing. Though that hope died as soon as you felt the figure closing in, making a beeline for the very oak tree you were hiding behind.

The nerves, you told yourself you’d under control so far, went completely haywire the second you smelled blood that was not your own. Fuck. Fuck, what should you do? Think. Just think. Think!

Eyes flitting back and forth, desperately trying to think of a better escape plan, but coming up with absolutely nothing, made your panic flare up even more. In your distress, you didn’t even notice how your vision was beginning to get blurry at the edges.

Taking in one shallow breath after the other, you started zoning in, on the smell the attacker omitted, as well as every muffled footstep you could pick up on. That was the best chance you had, at estimating how close he was getting.

Your lungs felt ready to burst, not taking in a sufficient amount of oxygen, out of fear to give up the last hope you were so desperately clinging to. The element of surprise.

Then the perfect opportunity presented itself. A minor difference in his gait or more likely his stance, gave him away. Your heart felt like it was ready to jump right out of your chest cavity as you lifted the bloodied branch with your left hand, glancing over your uninjured shoulder.

You couldn’t see anything but you were certain he was standing somewhere to your left. Counting down, one, two and strike.

Bracing your last energy reserves, you leaped to your left, without pause trusting the branch right into someone’s face.

Upon impact, that someone, stumbled backwards a few steps, cursing loudly, “Aargh FUCK!”

Not wanting to give him the opportunity to draw his sword, you advanced further, trying to get closer. Unfortunately at precisely that moment, your body decided to give out. What was left of your energy and strength had evaporated into thin air, after you took that second step into the clearing. The increasing unsteadiness of your legs, making it all the more difficult to remain standing.

Geralt wasn’t even sure what hit him. Or who. Just that a sharp pain exploded across his face, more specifically his now bleeding nose. Even depriving him of his vision for a moment.

Thankfully his inhuman reflexes kicked in, way before he could wrap his mind around what had happened. Making his body take one big stride forward, letting go of his sword. Catching you in his outstretched arms before your body could hit the ground, like a sack of straw.

Hanging limply from said arms, you tried blinking away the blurriness, in naught. Fighting your hardest, not to fall under the all-consuming spell of unconsciousness. But it dragged you under, like the stormy sea would a sinking ship, effortlessly pulling you down, enveloping you in darkness.

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This is ridiculous, he thought. Still unable to make out who was within his arms. Not only because his nose just kept on bleeding and had swollen considerably, but also because the face of his attacker was limply hanging down, making it impossible to identify them.

Though why he had caught them in his arms in the first place, was beyond him? Who in his right mind would save their aggressor? But he couldn’t very well let you fall back onto the grass either, now could he? You were definitely out cold.

That’s what led him, to lift you up higher. His hands under your armpits, trying to breathe through his mouth without swallowing too much blood.

He manoeuvred you into a position, where he could drag your body backwards, across the clearing to Roach and his dearly needed saddlebags and potions. During which he had to tilt his head backwards to at least somewhat see where he was going.

Geralt was glad no one was around to witness what could easily be mistaken for a crime of some sort. At last he reached Roach. As delicately as he could, he set you down onto the ground on your side. He knew he had to sort himself out first though, else he wouldn’t be able to help you at all.

Reaching into the saddleback he pulled his water-skin free, roughly yanking the cork free and pouring it over his face. He instantly began to splutter water and blood, working himself up into a full-blown coughing fit.

Faintly hearing his mare blow air out of her muzzle, as if disapproving of his actions. He grimaced at his own idiocy, because the troublesome throbbing of his face had worsened tremendously after his failed attempt to rid himself of the blood.

As soon as he could inhale normally again without drowning in water, he wiped over his nose with more care this time around.

To stop the bleeding he used a coagulating elixir next, which he should have known to apply first, because it naturally helped better than nearly drowning himself on dry land.

Finally having settled his own predicament, he glanced down, taking you in, for the first time really looking at you. The Witcher was taken aback, when his gleaming eyes flitted over your face, for he had never seen anything as a beautifully crafted. You looked like the most fragile of flowers.

Well fragile, might not be the best description for when you were awake, and wielding a branch damn near braking his nose. But right now your features were completely relaxed, giving you a flowerlike, fragile appearance.

And if he didn’t know you’d attacked him mere minutes ago, he’d believed himself a fool, for doubting your daintiness in the slightest. But alas, he did know.

Geralt squatted down close to your chest, at first struggling to spot a definite reason for your unconsciousness.Then he recalled the faint hint of blood that had been in the air, before he was alerted to your presence.

It took him way longer than it would have under normal circumstances, but he finally spotted the tear in your black blouse.

He had to change his position again, to adequately dress the wound on your right shoulder.

Wincing internally a little, as his thigh muscle tensed when he got up one more time to go find a helpful elixir, just in case it was needed. Once his hand closed around another coagulating potion, he stepped around your body, kneeling down behind your back.

Slowly he pulled the fabric of your blouse down to examine your wound closer. There was a deep gash on your previously unmarred skin, and something was still sticking out of it.

At this moment he was rather grateful for your unconsciousness, nevertheless he needed to be swift about it. Geralt wanted to pull the wooden rod free, without aggravating the gash any further.

For the first time in a very long time, he wished Jaskier was here. Not necessarily because he’d be a great help, but at least he could have assisted him or even pulled the rod free with his smaller hands.

But he wasn’t here, so Geralt had to try his best. Signing deeply, as if that would solve his dilemma, he got a hold of the wooden splinter between his thumb and index finger. Trying not to let his grasp on it slip, he promptly pulled it out. Surprised that it had worked so much better than he’d anticipated.

However the splinter wasn’t a splinter at all, it was an arrowhead and the remains of its wooden shaft. His dark eyebrows furrowed. Who and why would someone want to shoot you?

Not that it was any of his business, but you certainly raised quite a lot of questions. He’d make sure to get back to that, but for now he should concentrate on the task at hand.

The Witcher was about to open the small bottle containing the elixir, then he abruptly stopped. Frozen in his kneeling position, hands on the bottle. What? His eyes raked over your shoulder blade back and forth, searching, tilting his head in confusion, even going as far as leaning in to get a better look. It couldn’t be? He had been distracted by his musings but a minute.

To make sure his eyes weren’t deceiving him, Geralt stroked over the spot where the arrow had punctured your shoulder. Disbelievingly staring at his fingers and then back at your skin.

Where there had been a deep gash, continuously oozing blood, there was nothing there anymore. Dried blood on your skin and dark stains on your blouse being the sole indicator, that there had been a wound at all and he hadn’t lost his mind just yet.

More questions were forming in his mind, deepening the frown already displayed on his face.

Well his suspicions, were confirmed. You were clearly not human.

“Mmh.”

CHAPTER 3

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Taglist:

If you're interested in being on my taglist, please let me know! And if you want to be taken off (my taglist), feel free to tell me! ❤️✨

[acaaai-t]

resurface, my love

01. whispers of the wind

[fem! reader x villain! scaramouche]

cw: violence, blood, kidnapping, usage of guns, mentions of illegal drug trades, lots of cursing, bits of fluff and angst

Scaramouche was pissed.

It was evident with the grip he had on the newspaper.

His subordinates stood in the corner of the room, heads downcast. No words were spoken, for none wishes to be the one suffering under the wrath of the Balladeer.

On the small HD television hanging above his desk, a news broadcast began to play. Scaramouche brought his eyes up to watch it, his interest piqued.

"Our ever reliable detective has once again solve another puzzling crime! This breakthrough of the undergoing illegal drug trade has finally been stopped. So how did you do it, young detective?"

The camera panned to your face. He narrowed his eyes.

"Well, someone gave an anonymous tip about the whereabouts of the drug trade. All I did was crack the code and—" he switched the television off.

The silence was deafening.

Scaramouche slammed the newspaper to the side, the sound resonating around the too-empty room.

"How the fuck did you guys mess up this badly?" he growled. "I gave specific instructions and none of you were able to follow it?" His voice had an dangerous edge to it.

The room was still.

"You," he snarled, pointing at the male agent trembling in the corner. "Tell me everything that happened."

…

"You look worn out, are you alright?" your boss, Kujou Sara, asked.

You waved your hand. "I'm fine, it's just being surrounded by cameras all day drained me."

Sara laughed and patted your back. "I wouldn't be surprise. This case has been ongoing for years, you're the only one who've managed to close it."

"Well it was mostly thanks to that anonymous tip. If it wasn't for that, I feel this would never end," you said, a tired smile appearing.

"You are our best decoder here, couldn't replace you even if I tried," Sara said. "I'll take my leave now. You should quickly finish up too, everyone left already. Don’t tire yourself out too much.”

You nodded. "Night Sara."

The door clicked shut.

What was that message suppose to mean? Was it meant to be a threat? Should I tell Sara?— what if it was just a harmless prank?

You mindlessly typed away on your computer, yet you just could not bring yourself to focus on your work. It was unrelenting with the way it kept repeating over and over again in your mind.

The typing stopped. You couldn't bear it any longer. This continuous heavyweight of stress will only keep growing, festering until the host, you, finally suffocate under the pressure. It begs— screams to be free.

Pushing your chair back, you walked over to your window and nudged it opened it. A puff of the chilly autumn air gently tugged at the collar of your shirt.

The light glimmer of the moonlight was a dull comparison to the galaxy of clinquant star, the glittering white specks stretching across the vast skies of Teyvat.

"Stars..” you breathed out.

The two of you use to stargaze. It was a monthly routine, whenever the skies cleared the clouds for the river of stars to sparkle— was when the two of you lay next to each other on the grass, facing the deep blue empyrean.

He would point out the various constellations to you, rambling on about what it was and what it meant.

"I never thought you would be the one into astrology," you said. "Thought it was just a me thing."

Scaramouche rolled his eyes. "I'm a man of many things, what did you expect?"

You laughed.

No, he would never admit it.

He'd rather die than tell you that he'd learn about the stars of the sky just so he could tell you everything about it. He'd rather die than tell you that it was all because he wanted to see you smile, to hear your laughter. To see the surprise that lights up your eyes.

You wiped away an unsuspecting tear rolling down your cheeks. Everything was a constant reminder that the boy you once love is gone.

You hated it.

You could only drown yourself in work, taking on more cases than you should in an effort to forget his voice, his face— everything. But no matter how hard, how much you try, it just doesn't work.

For you could still feel the ghost of his touch brushing against your cheek, you could still hear his voice, calling out to you.

The soft humming of your computer brought you back.

Right, there was still work needed to be to finish. You sighed and pushed yourself away from the window.

"I'll just finish this page up, then l'll clock out," you muttered.

You sat back down on your chair and spun around in a useless attempt to calm your mind. A golden glint in the corner of your room caught your eye. You stopped spinning.

What's that?

It was a tiny pin in a shape of a badge. You squinted closer, there was an insignia stamp on it. It closely resembled something, yet you couldn't placed your mind on exactly what it is. You took out your phone and snapped a picture of it. Sending the picture to Heizou, you had made sure to ask him if he knew what that insignia represented.

Plink!

Startled, you looked up to where the source of noise came from, but there was nothing. It just you alone in your office.

Plink!

There it was again. You frowned, tucking your phone into your back pocket.

Suddenly the lights dimmed. Someone had cut the power to the entire building.

There wasn't enough time for you to react, for you froze—words caught up in your throat. You could see it, the tiny crack appearing on the windowpane. Whatever it was, it was slowly breaking down the barrier protecting you from the outside.

Slowly backing off, you reached for the gun tucked under your desk. The crack grew bigger. A silhouette of a person came into view. Your hands curled around the handle of the gun and tore it away from the hostler. A quick click had your gun locked and loaded.

You held your breath and slid under your desk.

The spiderweb crack only grew bigger before it effectively shattered— a loud 'ouch' following suit. Whoever was behind it must've gotten impatient and opted to punch through the glass instead.

Your eyes mirrored the reflection of the crumbling glass under the moonlight.

“Stupid lieutenants... always making me do the dirty work..." you heard the unknown muttering. A male— judging by the pitch of his voice.

There was the sound of glass breaking as the shadow of a man clambered in though the window, effectively blocking your only source of light.

He's in.

You dare not move.

"Anyone here? Hello?" his voice was gruff. "Hey little girl, I know you're in here. I saw you."

He stopped right at your desk and shoved the chair away.

You heard it crash into the bookshelf. A pair of dirty winter boots was all you could see.

Go away, you don't see me.

Much to your dismay, he didn't leave. You felt the blood rush up to your head when you saw him slowly bending down.

Fuck.

You came face to face with a man in dressed black and teal, a tall navy blue hat along with his black mask obscured his face. The only visible feature you could see was his golden orbs.

"Found you," there was a malicious glint in his eyes.

You didn't know what overcame you. Perhaps it was the adrenaline, or it was purely on instinct— but whichever it may be had you aiming the gun at his face. You didn't think twice, squeezing your eyes shut and pulling the trigger. The resonating bang made you wince.

His figure went still, then slowly, he toppled backwards and crashed onto the floor— a pool of ugly red blood slowly seeping out.

I killed him.

"Hey Cor are you okay? I heard a gun go off," a new voice trailed over. The moonlight was once blocked again, a flashlight glaring over at corpse. "Cor— holy shit! Guys over here, hurry up! Cor?! Are you alive?!"

You wasted no time in scrambling away from the expired individual. The door nearly flew off its hinges as you bursted through. Fuck if the damages you've done would cost you a portion of your monthly salary, all it mattered to you was getting out. If you were fast enough, you could make it to the nearest police station to report the break-in— and attempted kidnapping.

The attackers were hot in pursuit. You heard the ever so familiar sound of a gun being loaded. A bullet whizzed by you, hitting the wooden structure of the building. You heard the wall cracked just the slightest bit.

The Tenryo House has never been so big before. Room after rooms, there just never seem to be an end to it. Your lungs burned. Everything seemed like a maze.

Suddenly a group of two blocked the only way you could escape. You looked back, the other band was also rapidly approaching. “Shit…” you mumbled. There were people blocking the only exit. You could only conclude that the perimeter of the building was also surrounded.

"Hey little girl," you could hear the heinous intent in his voice. "Now why don't you surrender? It'll be so much easier.

"As if,” you sneered, gun raised.

One of the bigger guys stepped forward. You tensed up, the rhythm of your heart beating in your head. He charged at you, his knife aimed for your eye.

Years of training kicked in. The gun was immediately lowered. You dodged to one side, barely avoiding death.

Scaramouche’s voice echoed in your head.

"You need to learn how to fight," Scaramouche had demanded.

"What? Why?" at that time you had complained. "I don't need to know how to fight. Can't you protect me?"

You frantically looked around, searching for anything that could be of help. Your gun was near useless, for you could clearly see the thick bulletproof vest strapped on tightly.

A knife, a wrench, anything you could use to defend yourself, to kill. You yelped as the knife whooshed by, just missing your head by a hairs breadth.

By this time the other group had already caught up, their weapons were locked on you. None dared fired yet, for why ruin a show spectacularly put on for them?

"I- I won't always be around to protect you," was his reply.

The front desk spilt in half, pens spilling everywhere.

Your opponent had long abandoned his knife— tossed away somewhere. Instead, he chose to use his fists. It was like playing tag but deadlier with a block of pure muscle.

You could only run. The only advantage you have over him was your nimbleness. You were a graceful swan drifting in the smooth waters, and he was the stark contrast— a giant stumbling through a cave too small.

There was no way you could escape from the Commission without him decking you.

You were beaten near unconscious. Bruises bloomed all over your body, specks of blood and dust dirtied your dress.

His fists were curled up into tiny balls. Dirt and grime covered his clothes in ugly splotches of brown. He wiped a bloody streak away from his face. His gaze was piercing as he stared down the two boys.

"Just what the fuck do you think you're doing?" he sounded insane.

When his fists made contact with your stomach, you could do nothing, your wind knocked out of you. The second hit came, then the third, fourth.

You stumbled backwards each time the blow came upon you. Blocking each hit was getting increasingly difficult.

The light flickered back to life. For just the briefest moment, everyone paused. Then the lightbulb promptly exploded, leaving the room once again pitch-black.

That seconds under the bright light was your newfound source of energy, for you had saw everything you needed to know. Pushing away the pain throbbing in your lower abdomen, you made a break for the blade lying on the floor.

He was upon you almost instantly.

You felt an immense pressure on top of you. Your breath was knocked out. Yet despite this, you still grabbed onto the dagger and wrenched it towards yourself.

Mere seconds was all you need, an opening of some sort. Perhaps the gods above heard your wishes, for he suddenly froze over.

Seizing this moment, you jammed the knife into the only opening you found— his eye. Blood slowly dripped down his face, the knife firmly lodged in. With minor difficulty, you pulled the knife out.

It was then that his cries of pain came. You were released from his hold, tumbling to the side. His comrades ran to his side, a roll of bandages already in their hands.

You took this chance to run. In a way you felt bad, but it was a life or death situation. It was either you or him, and there can only be one winner.

One of them barked out an order. You couldn’t exactly hear what they said, but their actions told enough. Seemingly fed up with your antics, they began pelleting you with what’s left of their bullets.

One grazed your cheek and another clipped your arm. You felt your arm burn. The pain wasn’t noticeable at first, but then it started to fucking hurt. You used your hand to cover the wound in an attempt to stop the bleeding. It was useless. Blood kept gushing out, staining your new shirt in a deep crimson.

The exit was right in front of your eyes. You shouldered through the two agents standing by the door, accidentally tripping one over in the process. Small droplets of blood trailed behind you.

The fresh air of Inazuma hits your face. It felt refreshingly cold— calming the burning pain in your arms for just the tiniest moment. You weren’t given enough time to relish it before the few remaining guys also came through, guns aimed.

You yelped and quickly ran behind a random building, only to encounter a poor straggler who seemed just as surprise to see you as you are to see him. No chances were taken though. With one fell swoop, you had knocked him unconscious.

You can’t rest, not yet. The pattering of their boots were heavy against the pavement as each spilt into smaller parties to search for you. Time was ticking.

Very slowly, you removed your hand from your wound. The bleeding had slowed, but blood was still dribbling out. You’d searched the unconscious person for any sort of first aid. As luck would have it, you found a small kit. In it was a small roll of gauze, a couple of alcohol prep pads, and bandages of all kinds.

You ripped opened the alcohol pads and took in a deep breath. It took every ounce of energy to suppress a scream building up. Your arms trembled.

“Now you see why you have to fight?” he was angry, yet not angry enough to leave you unattended.

“Yeah.. sorry,” you mumbled. You yelped when Scaramouche dabbed at your wounds. “Ah— Scara! A warning please.”

“Sorry.”

“You are not sorry, I can see you laughing— ouch!”

The roll of gauze may be short, but it was enough to temporarily patch your wound. You sealed it off with a Sailor Moon bandage. The bullet dug into your flesh, but you couldn’t bring yourself to focus on the pain right now.

Not in this dire situation. Footsteps were slowly approaching, each step slow. You frantically took out your phone.

“And what,” your blood ran cold. “Do you think you’re doing?”

You froze, phone slipping away. The cool muzzle of a small pistol was pressed up against your temple.

“Put the phone down.”

You did as told.

“Both hands up.”

You raised one arm.

“I said both.”

“I can’t,” you rebutted. “Your people shot my arm and now I can’t move it without screaming in pain.”

You heard her scoff. “Fucking idiots. Couldn’t even follow a simple order. And you. You are really weak, do you know? Can’t even handle a little bit of pain?”

Your free hand slowly edged towards the pistol lying by the unconscious fellow. “Well miss, have you ever been shot before?” you replied through gritted teeth.

She grinned. “Plenty.”

“Does it hurt?”

“You’re stalling for time,” she said. A flying mirror next to her glittered. It suddenly flashed red. “Get up.”

“So it doesn’t hurt? Then I suppose another one shouldn’t be too much of a problem.”

You smiled and pointed the gun at her. Two shots was all it took for her body to go limp. The mirror fell to the side, cracked.

“The Maiden— she collapsed!”

“She’s been shot! Get the medic here!”

“Is she dead?!”

She wasn’t dead, you hadn’t shoot to kill. You had only fatally wounded her, rendering her temporarily useless.

The unconscious fellow stirred. They weren’t fully awake yet, but just for good measures, you dropped a semi-empty crate on their head. They knocked out once again.

You grabbed the Maiden’s broken mirror and ran. Perhaps Heizou can analyze it for you.

More enemies emerged from the shadows of the alleyways. Bullet shells tinkled against the pavement. Standing out in the open was far too risky.

An huge explosion rocked the ground. You stumbled and looked up, the image of fire and smoke mixed together reflecting in your eyes. Horror dawned on you when your realized they had just bombed the police station.

Another explosion was heard, this time seemingly closer to you. With no other choices left, you began running towards your abode. That was the only place you could find temporary sanctuary in.

A wail of a baby filled up the silence of the streets, followed by hushed chatter from citizens who had opened their window to look at the commotions. You heard the patters of footsteps closing in behind you.

“Just run, don’t stop,” you whispered to yourself.

“The next time they approach you, just run to me. Or punch them,” he said. “Either way works.”

“I don’t want to hurt them…”

“Simple, I’ll beat them up for you.”

Ducking through closed shops and weaving around in narrow alleyways, it wasn’t long before you reached home, completely out of breath. You grew up running around the streets of East Side Inazuma, so every twists and turns you’re familiar with. They were definitely strangers to this land, no doubt were you given a head start.

Pushing your keys in through the lock hole, you pushed opened the door just as quickly as you shut it. After making sure that every window, every door, was locked, you climbed upstairs to your bedroom.

Grabbing your first aid, you tore open your hastily made bandages. It was the same grueling process all over again—the stinging and burning of it. You checked the severity of your wound in the mirror.

Oh shit…

You could clearly see the silver glow of the bullet firmly wedged into the tissue of your skin. There was no way to get it out unless you seek professional help or you self-operate.

You could only carefully patch up your wound and hoped for the best. Tossing your jacket to the side, you changed into a more comfy wear, something suitable for both running and fighting. You were just tying your shoelaces when the door to your bedroom flew off its hinges.

It nearly crashed upon you. Standing by the doorframe was a small group consisting of maybe 7 people. More people than you liked in your house. The one standing in front— the ringleader, spoke up. Her purple lantern cackled with electrical energy.

“Now, either we can do this peacefully or we can do this the hard way,” she said, holding up two fingers. “You choose.”

“How about we do this outside and not in my room?”

She laughed. “And risk letting you get away again? Sorry love, you don’t make the choice here. If I were you, I’d surrender peacefully.” She smiled, revealing a neat row of sharp teeth.

“I’d rather not,” you said. “All of you started chasing and shooting me without even giving a reason as to why. There is no way in hell would I follow you.”

She sighed and shook her head, green hair swaying. “Then I suppose it can’t be helped.”

“No it can’t be.”

“You’ve made a bad choice,” she smiled again and disappeared in a flash of purple thunder. Small purple bats radiating a purple aura screeched.

And then they charged.

There was only so many that can fit in the room and they had all stupidly gotten themselves stuck in the doorframe, trying to fit through.

One managed to squeeze through, heading for you. In her hand held syringe containing some sort of green liquid sloshing around. You were prepared for this. When she came close enough, you grabbed her arm— the one with the syringe, and easily slammed her to the floor.

You smiled, proud of yourself. You didn’t spend years leaning how to fight for it to go to waste.

Another one came at you, and you ducked him. He crashed over to your desk, scattering everything onto the floor. You took this chance to ram into him, promptly using his body to smash your window.

You picked up the syringe from the hands of the unconscious person and began swinging it around. The tip eventually found its way to someones neck and they collapsed, body convulsing.

The temperature of your room suddenly dropped. The crowd of people parted, allowing a large man dressed in icy blue to step in. Your collection of keychains jingled with each step he took. He held out a large machine of some sort and pointed the nozzle at you.

What the fuck.

The machine whirred loudly, and you slowly backed towards the broken window. Eerie white mist pooled out from it. You felt goosebumps running down your arms.

It doesn’t take an idiot to know that you’ll probably die if you don’t get away in time.

You threw your chair at him to stall for time. Then you carefully crawled out the window as best as you can without cutting yourself open. Jagged shards scraped against your pants.

The jump down from the second floor to ground level wasn’t too high, you noted. Maybe you can make it down there without breaking a leg or two.

You shimmied over to the edge and took a deep breath. The people behind you crawled towards you. It reminded you of that time when centipedes began crawling out in massive groups from a ventilator and scaring the ever living shit out of you. You shivered at that memory, cold sweat clinging onto you.

You jumped.

Something crunched, you heard it. You check yourself for any injuries, but there was none.

Then what?…

You turned back around and nearly screamed. It was the body of the unfortunate enemy that had slipped and fell, their back bent at an awkward angle. A badge of some sort clattered against the pavement, rolling to a stop by your shoe. You picked it up and scampered away.

The badge— or pin, was exquisitely designed. Yet the more you examine it, the more you felt like you’ve seen this before.

Isn’t this…

An arm wrapped around your waist, the other suppressing your terrified screams. You angrily thrashed around, eyes wide in horror. The badge fell.

You raised one arm back and elbowed them as hard as you can. Adrenaline rush through your body once again as the grip around you loosened.

He stumbled back. One hand clutched at his nose. You could see blood gushing out from it.

With his free hand, he whipped out a butterfly knife. He looked like an maniac, smiling with blood dripping down his chin.

The group of enemies caught up. He held a hand out, and they all came to a stop.

“I’ll handle this,” his voice was gruff. You eyed him. Judging by his attire, he must be one of the higher ranking ones. The badges and small medals says it all.

The moon was at its fullest tonight, stars gleaming in the clear skies. It would’ve been the perfect night to go stargazing. The sight was almost beautiful if you weren’t literally fighting for your life.

You kept a steady rhythm in your mind, keeping yourself focus on the glint of the weapon.

A slash to the right. You dodged to the left. He barreled towards you. You dropped to the ground and swung your legs out. He fell, but was up not even seconds later. It’s the same all over again, block, parry, hit, get hit.

Dimly lit lanterns swung from the chilly breeze. It’s soft golden glow basked the streets in a warm blanket. His attacks were speeding up. Your body was worn out from the entire night of fighting and running. You don’t know how long you can keep going until you finally collapse from the exhaustion.

He was a blur of colors. You just couldn’t keep up. Not anymore.

The wound in your left arm was raging up in pain once again. You lower your guard for the just slightest moment, trying to catch your breath.

There wasn’t time for you to move, let alone react. You completely blanked out.

By the time you’ve snapped back, he was right in front of you— his blade piercing through your lower abdomen.

You couldn’t breath.

Everything began to blur together into blocks of colors. You could feel the warm blood slowly tricking down your stomach. Blood began pouring out when he removed the weapon. You stumbled.

“Give me the sedative.”

His voice sounded so faraway. “Fuckyou…” your words were slurred together. “No...”

“Tell the lord we’ve got her.”

Your eyes were half-lidded, movements sluggish. The engine of a van could be heard pulling up next to you. A blurry face appeared in your vision.

“Sleep well… never… have… back.”

His voice was fading away. You fought the the drowsiness overtaking you, but alas, the sedative was just too strong. The shattered mirror in your pocket fell with a quiet clink.

The last thing you could remember was excited mumbling of the onlookers, the feeling of your body being poked and prodded at, and the giant title plastered on the van that read, “NORTHLAND BANK.”

It was then you finally realized who was after you. The familiar print on the badges… you could only pray that Heizou— or someone, would be able to see what’s wrong.

It’s the Fatui, you bitterly thought to yourself. Of course it was the Fatui.

It was all you could remember before sleep consumed your consciousness, pulling you into the depths of nothingness.

…

“A blade; light as a feather, delicate as a bird,” he softly hummed to himself. “That blade; weighted and broken... wouldn’t you agree, my dear friend?”

The small creature curled up in his shoulder nuzzled its head against his chin. His fingers danced along the hilt of his katana.

“The moon is gorgeous tonight,” he murmured. “Let’s go report our findings to him, shall we?”

previous || series m.list || next

synopsis— [✩]

— you, the hero, disappears overnight, and the only person who looks is the villain. Not your friends, not your family, not the news reporter or any of the people who claimed to love you. Just him, Scaramouche, the very same person who claimed to hate you.

notes— [✩]

— as you can clearly tell by this chapter, I am not good at writing fight scenes 🙏 (ANYONE WANT TO TAKE A GUESS AS TO WHO IT WAS AT THE END)

taglist— [✩`·CLOSED]

@akairaindrops @the-ghost-0f-t0m0 @elernity @shayewrites @angel-suicides @magica-ren @kyouzki @nana-bri @avxntxrine @bleedingwhiteroses222 @rainingduringsummer @darthvada @dan9a-00 @omgblade-starrail @kichiyoshi @inufinuf @vvyeislazzy @alatusorrow @franaby @mellowberrie @sketcheeee @etherisy @crmnic @arizzu @vrisso @id3ru @mochicurls21 @kairuthewriter @suqarlaced @saetorii @anura100000 @divinechicha @starlightaura @karablueyt @supercoolusernameomg @uhh-traashyy @kazuuhhaaaa

[italicized usernames means I cannot tag you]

[whitexwolfxx310]

|| Confessions Of A Big Bad (White) Wolf ||

Pairing: Bucky x Female Reader // Bucky x y/n

Summary: There's a breach at The Compound, and the last person you expect to protect you is the one that shows up.

Warnings: Angst, fluff, cursing, jealousy, tight spaces, mature content (Not explicit...yet), y/n.

Word Count: 1.4K

Previous Part || Masterlist

Darting out the door, you stay on Bucky's heels. Trying to look around for any danger over your shoulders as you break into a slight run. He jogs right passed the elevator, and stops in front of what looks like a maintenance closet. Looking around, he opens the door and ushers you in. With a flick of the light switch, Bucky was moving a metal industrial rack. He moved that with as much ease as tossing a tissue. It revealed a small, concealed crawl space.

“Get in.” He says quietly. “I’ll be right behind you.” Without hesitation, you obey.

Crawling in, you feel a small incline. You can hear Bucky behind you, the slight thumping of his knees. Soon you see the crawl space branch off into four different paths. Again, as if he can read your mind, he says “Stay to the right.” before you can even open your mouth. You adhere until there is a large air vent underneath you. “Hold on.” Bucky says as he maneuvers his way around you, getting sinfully close. He makes a fist with his left hand, punching downward hard just once knocking it out. Jumping down he looks up at you sitting in the vent. “Jump!” But I’m not 6 feet tall. It’s a bit of a longer fall. Bucky sighs, “I’ll catch you! C’mon!” He puts both hands out, ready.

You hesitate, but only for a moment. The two of you have built a trust over the last 3 months, enough to do what he says without thinking twice. Swallowing hard, suppressing the lump of anxiety in your throat, you jump down. As promised, Bucky grabs your waist on each side, easing you down onto the floor. He stands in front of the closest door. “Friday?”

“Yes, Sergeant Barnes?” She replies.

“Y/N is going to be staying in here until further notice, as per Stark. Allow access to her.”

Before Friday answers, you chime in. “And James also.” He turns to look at you. “James can have access also.”

“Access for Y/F/N and James Buchanan Barnes approved.”

Bucky turns the door handle, pushing it open and stepping to the side, allowing you to go in first. You give him a small side smile, and head into the apartment.

It’s identical to his apartment, just the layout is opposite being the only difference. You timidly walk to the living room, turning around to face Bucky. Awkwardly, you bring your arms out and then quickly back down. What am I? A fucking penguin?

He stands just a few feet away, the left sleeve of his leather jacket ripped off, his vibranium arm showing. It’s the first time you’ve seen his full metal arm. You make sure not to stare too long, so you direct your attention to his face. It has patches of black, blue, and yellow bruises that are already healing. There’s also a few lacerations as well.

“Are you okay?” Bucky asks, still keeping his distance.

“From the look of it, I should be asking you that.” You fake a laugh.

“No, seriously.” He says sternly, taking a step towards you.

“Um. Yeah? It was a bit intimidating in the moment but I’m sure it will be fine.” You answer honestly with a shrug. “What about you?” You ask, concerned.

Bucky shakes his head, waving off the question. “This is nothing. I’ve been a lot worse off than this.” His eyes look spaced out, as if he was brought back to a specific memory.

“Well…” You start, “Thanks for making sure I got here safe. I’m sure you um, want to go wash up.”

“Don’t do that.” He says, irritated.

“Do… what?” You ask, confused at, not only his statement, but the tone.

“Send me away.” Bucky replies painfully, looking down at the floor.

“I just assumed-“ You answer calmly, but he quickly cuts you off.

“Assumed what, y/n?!” He takes a few strides closer.

“I-I…” What do I say? How do I handle this?

Bucky takes in a deep breath, trying to bring tranquility to himself.

"When we got word of a breach...I made sure I was the first one to get back."

"So you could continue your coffee date with Blondie downstairs?" You spit back.

Bucky scoffs. "Who?" He asks, genuinely confused and offended by the question.

"You know..." You start, trying to imply the overly attentive bartender from downstairs and even awkwardly gesturing with your hands, but letting them flop when the befuddled look still hasn't left his face. The attitude is gone, feeling embarrassed having to spell it out for him. "Um...the girl? From Tony's party?" Bucky still looks baffled. You roll your eyes and sigh. "The one infatuated with you?! You two grabbed coffee?"

He looks side to side, furrowing his brows. "You mean Sophie?" Of course she's got an adorable name.

"I guess!" You say, agitated.

Bucky snorts. "I'm sorry, are you implying that her and I are...together?" He asks, offended.

"Well...up until this moment I did." You say, apprehensively.

His head falls back, exacerbated. "You really have no idea, do you?"

You stand there unable to say a word. Bucky stands tall, taking a few steps forward. "You have helped me in a way that no one else has before. You've given me different perspectives, different ways of coping. Hell, this is the most bliss I've had since 1943."

Annnd we're still standing here awkwardly. What do I even say to that?

"You make me feel...human, y/n. It's something I never thought I would feel ever again." He takes small steps closer, as if you were a doe in the woods ready to sprint at any second. "You're the only one who isn't afraid of me or completely terrified by my past."

The massive lump is back in your throat. You try to swallow, but can't. You're petrified, unable to move or even breathe in the moment. Bucky had gotten even closer, so stealth like as if he were a panther stalking prey.

"What...are you saying?" You ask, your voice barely audible.

"I'm saying..." He starts, slowly reaching and taking your left hand in his right. Your body tenses up at the warmth of his touch. Breathe, you remind yourself.

"I made sure I got back to The Compound first to ensure you were safe. Sophie is a friend, like many other people here. But, I made it clear that I didn't see her in any other way."

"Are you sure she understands that because from here it looked like you two were pretty close." You say defensively.

Bucky breathes in deeply, letting it back out before taking one final step closer. Looking intensely into your eyes. So much for not being afraid of him. Your fingers slowly interlace with his, keeping your gaze; watching carefully to see if he becomes uneasy.

Up until this moment, Bucky has always maintained distance. And now, here he is pushing every boundary he’s made for himself. He presses his forehead down gently into yours. Bucky’s eyes close, his chest slowly rises and falls. He’s nervous.

Your heart is fluttering as you close your eyes also. Your breathing matches his, together in unison. The tip of Bucky’s nose touches yours and you can feel his warm breath on your face. Every ounce of you wants to lean forward and press your lips to his.

“Is… is this okay?” You breathe out. His eyes open to meet yours.

“It’s okay with me if it’s okay with you, sunshine.” He coos, as his vibranium hand moves a small section of hair out of your face, and then softly cups your cheek. If it weren’t for the coolness of his touch, you would swear that you were dreaming.

“Am I out of a job now?” You and Bucky both laugh lightly.

“Actually, I think you should get a raise.” He whispers, his lips barely touching yours as he speaks. That soft brush of his lips practically sucks the soul right out of you. The burning need to be as close as you possibly can to him rises from your stomach into your chest. Instinctively, your lips purse up into his. Bucky returns the soft, sweet kiss as if you were as delicate as a flower. Your hand grasps his shirt, pulling him closer and more deep into the kiss.

Next part

[sitp-recs]

hello lovely liv!

i have to admit push and pull you down by mostlyvoid has me on a chokehold like no other, i'm obsessed with the dynamic between h&d and now am wondering if you know any other fics with a harry thats not content with his life meeting a draco who is showing him a different (like morally ambiguous) side of life? or do you have any rec lists already? i'm not even sure what bullet points to look for i'd appreciate your help :)

*elmo fire gif* love love love that fic! It’s short but super intense and the dynamics, dialogue and characterization are perfectly executed by @bonesliketambourines 🤌🏼 I don’t know any similar fics with those specific vibes but I think you might enjoy these. They play with jaded!Harry and morally ambiguous!Draco in different ways, some are darker than others but the Drarry dynamics are equally delicious. Enjoy!

Second Chance by @shealwaysreads (G, 2k)

Harry and Draco spent one long, perfect year together after the war, then the Ministry came calling. Three years later Harry finds his way to Draco’s door.

A Cold Spot in Hell by @drarrytrash (E, 8k)

When there’s nothing left to burn, you have to set yourself on fire. If you wanted 8k of sexy arson, emotionally difficult arson, general arson, handkerchiefs, dread, and poetry curation, now is really your moment.

Clear As Mud by scoradh (M, 10k)

Set post-war and post-Harry's-conscience...

Two Zinnias and the Scent of Lemon by @the-starryknight (M, 16k)

The Ministry didn’t turn bad overnight. Harry didn’t suddenly turn rogue either. Between covert Legilimency links and Polyjuice disguises and running and running and running, Draco has forgotten what it is like to have a safe harbor that isn’t a person. If there’s an art to fighting back, then they’ll find it hand in hand.

Unfinished Business by cupiscent (E, 20k)

Ten years after the War ends, Harry and Draco still haven't got their act together. But maybe it's not too late.

Sun Thief by @floydig, BlackRose532 (E, 28k)

It’s 2005, and Draco Malfoy says, “Fuck the Ministry,” Harry works as a handyman in muggle London, and Draco should really stop pissing off the Squib gangs. Or: Harry beats up a pimp and isn’t sorry about it, Draco deals black market potions, and they’re shagging. Again.

The Laws of Gravity by @lettersbyelise (E, 31k)

When he runs into Draco Malfoy picking pockets at a charity gala, Harry Potter is forced to face the desires he’s avoided for years — at the risk of shattering the public image he’s so carefully curated since the war.

Dreaming Darkly by @quicksilvermaid (E, 40k)

It's five years after the war, and Harry is not okay. He hates his job. He hates Robards. He hates Ron's promotions and Hermione's concern. He chases oblivion in booze and weed and quick dirty fucks, but it's never enough. Then Draco Malfoy's face comes up on the case board as a murder suspect and Harry is thrown into an investigation that will take him to dark and dangerous places.

The Beauty of Thestrals and Other Unseen Things by @writcraft (E, 63k) - Draco’s not morally ambiguous here, just unapologetically queer 🌈

Harry has terrific friends, an amazing girlfriend and his job as Head Auror enables him to work on challenging cases and Ministry reform. He just wishes he could work out why he’s been so out of sorts.

A Pocket Full of Stones by waterwings (E, 68k)

A curse is spreading through the wizarding world, erasing memories of the war. Harry Potter is on the case! Where Draco is the DMLE’s most wanted dark wizard and Harry is the private investigator tasked with bringing him in. It goes as well as one might expect.

Criminal by @the-sinking-ship (E, 83k)

Things were going just fine for Draco Malfoy. He successfully conned and counted cards across Europe and America, amassing a small fortune, along with a lengthy rap sheet. That was until he made the grave mistake of returning to England for a high stakes card game and got himself caught – by Harry Potter no less.

[princess-of-the-corner]

hey im having some trouble with something fic-wise and i wanted to ask if you had ideas. if todo hadn't had his chimera-perfect quirk, do you think enji would have been trying for another kid? also, do you think toyua's breakdown would have been delayed or just Different?

Hm!

I think it kinda depends on the exact nature of how you're writing it? Because like.

I think there's a few factors in it.

/Why/ specifically is it the Fire/Ice child he wants? Because remember: Enji was perfectly fine training Toya despite having only Fire and no Ice until they found out that Toya wasn't fireproof and therefore using his Quirk would be putting him in danger.

So even in Canon, while the Fire/Ice child was an ideal scenario, he settled for 'less'. So what, exactly, changed? Why couldn't he just turn his focus to Fuyumi or Natsuo(those two are free to do whatever they want)? Why make another child and hope for the combo like originally intended instead of just writing off Toya specifically?

Another factor in this is Rei. How much of a choice does she have? Obviously I write Enji as a decent person so if Rei had said 'no, we're not having any more children' then he'd listen. Some people clearly write differently and think he didn't give her a choice already.

Like I clearly write Enji one way and while Canon narratively backs a lot of this up, I do take my own liberties and I can see why people interpret things completely in the opposite direction even if I think they should refrain from stating it as fact and being shocked when people don't agree.

Anyway! There's a lot of ways to interpret these characters depending on the story you want to tell.

For example how I write them in CC:

Enji wanting a Fire/Ice child is him projecting his own trauma and guilt. Though he was fine with Toya initially, he now feels guilty to 'cursing' him with a Quirk that causes him pain and having to crush his dreams. Therefore a Fire/Ice child would be projection for both of them to succeed where they both fail.

He doesn't go to Fuyumi or Natsuo 1.) because he wants the Fire/Ice to make up for everything. If he doesn't succeed in what he started, Toya suffered for nothing and 2.) as insane as he is, he's not going to fully force them. Fuyumi and Natsuo don't want to be Heroes. If they did he'd train them, just like he later trains Shoto. But they don't so he doesn't. (Shoto may have had less choice/would have been more pressured to be a Hero, though Enji tells himself he would've listened if Shoto wanted something else. But he wanted to be a Hero anyway. In a way, Enji is just doing exactly what he wants. (I don't mean this in a victim-blaming way I mean this in a 'Enji is justifying things' way))

As for Rei. I haven't gotten to this in Road to Hell, but after everything with being pregnant with Shoto? She doesn't want to be pregnant again. It scares her. It scares her even years later no way in hell would she want to do it again immediately. Now, given her own traumas re: her parents and her inability to say 'no', she might not express this and she may crumble if Enji tries to talk her into it not realizing how scared she is. But she doesn't want to.

As for Toya's breakdown:

Again this can be up to the writer on how they interpret his actions/behavior/choices.

But I think that regardless of if Shoto came out 'perfect' or not, the base setup for Toya's breakdown was already coming. Without intervention on that particular front, I don't think things could've stopped. And that's a separate thing from how Shoto turned out.

I think at best what might happen is Toya having some camaraderie with Shoto in a 'Shoto got rejected too and Enji moved on to the next kid' kind of way. I don't know if it'd totally change course, but Toya would have someone to feel the way he feels in some way that Fuyumi and Natsuo don't understand./Maybe/ this could change things in that Toya has someone who 'gets' him and also someone to look after more, but I think he'd still have problems.