#(chanting in my head) i'm cringe but i'm free i'm cringe but i'm free i'm cringe but i'm

[koiturine]

confession | night.

tws: anxiety, heavy drinking, implied discrimination

it's late. it's been late, and we really should've gone back to the hotel room hours ago.

but i drink. i drink and i drink and i drink. every snide remark gets kicked back with the sting of cobra venom, but it takes more than a little liquid courage to make absolutely sure it doesn't get to me.

"he's my boyfriend, koi." did he really not tell anyone before he brought me to this company party?

"my 'arm candy' has a name, you know." thank you so much for introducing me, avie... does that guy think i'm your male hooker or something?

"do you seriously think i can't date someone without an ulterior motive?" did you used to date people with an ulterior motive?!

i sipped through every comment, and pregamed every future comment. and... well, i basically drank my way through the whole party. but aventurine isn't the only one with a good poker face. i might not have the best tolerance, but i can hold myself together when i'm wasted.

"my precious little jackpot. you're not having a bad time tonight, are you?" i feel the blood rush to my cheeks when he whispers in my ear... and the tiny bit of upset behind his teeth. "yeah! i mean... i'm good. it's fun meeting all your co-workers." all of the liquid courage pours out of my body in a deluge of sweat. oh my god i'm so humiliated i wanna go for another drink.

aventurine knows. he has to, or he wouldn't grip my hip so tightly. "i like my free booze." i blurt out the statement while i try to look him in the eyes.

"you like your free booze when you're dancing. you think you need your free booze when you're scared." i can't make direct eye contact with him for long. it took a lot of learning on his part to realize i can't make direct eye contact with anyone. but it's obvious when i'm avoiding it on purpose.

i'm not as smooth as he is. i can't go with the flow and pull him into a dance or ask him 'why would i be lonely? you've been with me the whole time.' it's not just loneliness. it's knowing i'm supposed to have fun, but not being able to let go without it.

it's insecurity that i'm not good enough.

i... need another drink. "one sec..." aventurine holds me closer before i get a chance to skedaddle. "c'mon, avie. i gotta pee."

"you can pee in the room." this blond thing wrapped around me starts kissing me over and over again, chuckling and hiding the simmering ire as we walk out. he doesn't even hold my hand as we walk to the elevator. of course, aventurine keeps his smile. but the dead silence says everything.

he's quiet when he's walking with me.

he's simmering in silence when he's walking ahead, not even holding my hand. at least... that's how it feels.

the elevator carries the same thick air, the booze at least easing my anxiety and fear. i know i'm in trouble, but i can only freak out so much in a stupor.

it doesn't even take a second when he closes the door to our suite behind me. "what the hell is going on?"

i was lying. the sting of his disappointment puts a lump in my throat. this is the end, isn't it?

"nothing... i... don't wanna talk about it."

aventurine sighs, squeezing the bridge of his nose. he's obviously mad. but if i say something he's probably gonna think i'm stupid. i try to maintain a poker face. i can't let him see that i'm scared. i can't make him think he hurt me. why the fuck am i even hurt by such a stupid question!?

"...i..." aventurine blinks up at me, surprised that i'm even trying to loop back around. "i don't... want you to think i'm boring. or embarrass you, or if i'm really worth bringing to a rich corporate party, or--"

i was so lost in my spiral i didn't realize he was pulling me into a hug. the warmth and softness, the smell of his cologne at least... helps. "you aren't the only person the ipc judged from just their looks."

...right. his avgin eyes.

"the only way you could've ruined it is if you didn't show up at all." i think i feel aventurine's hands tremble a bit. the question leaves my mouth before i get the chance to mull it over.

"so did you bring me because you didn't wanna feel alone?"

he chuckles at that, rubbing my back as his soft voice reassures me every step of the way. "of course i did."

[applepixls]

my heart goes out to episode 3 secret life grian because I'm kind of living it right now (watch out peeps, low-key a vent incoming!)

in a stream after the big win scar says he's not sure if he could do it again, the whole being alone and having no friends thing and i kind of know what he means. as a real person its hard not having friends because you have no emotional support or people to connect with etc etc etc. in game it was hard not having friends cause he couldn't lean on anyone for resources and always had to leave home and manufacture interactions for content rather than being able to multitask and go caving with a friend (like the "i left my diamonds right here!" bit in last life with grian and mumbo. its just a mundane task but the interaction has become iconic)

but we're talking about grian now. just- the state of this man. i related a little bit too much to him in this episode. he made the diagonal staircase creature the episode before and said it looked like his brain; mush. but then in episode 3 ended up getting the task to follow his old buddy from the previous season around and just having joel go "ok lol lame. this is awkward. we're not really best friends, he's just following me around" (disclaimer: i know its just for the bit and they're good friends irl) and then to have joels new best bud (aka lizzie his irl wife-) go "HAH! you got no fri-endsss~!" (this lives rent free in my head lol) and tease him the following is a compilation of moments i related to having recently drifted from a close friend of several years :) - watching joel bond with the mounders from afar and having him just go "one second grian, we're bonding" when just one season ago they would bond and say who was boogeyman or not at the beginning of episodes - finally thinking he's got a friend because of his task, joel saying he'll "let [him] know" when he takes damage and how much and "oh, you don't want me to hang out with you?" "no but you can go hang out at the top of the helter skelter alone if you want". thinking he had a friend to turn out he didn't. (its then still socially okay and funny that he refused to leave joel alone because its all a bit for the episode) - "he's my pet" "i think we're friends. i think we're best friends" the thinking we're best friends not being mutual - "one moment, grian" as grian's trying to talk to him and joels just doing his task. its the being put off as a second priority over other friends (made me weirdly frustrated despite knowing its all made up silly improv-d conflict between grown adults who are actually friends) - "heard something about a group of friends, maybe I'm now a part of it?" its socially kind of weird to do this irl but the. knowing a bunch of people you know are a like Friend Group and wondering why you're not included - "not even this enderman wants to be my friend! im gonna cry" not that relevant just felt silly and relatable - "am i just here to clarify rules; you guys don't want to be friends?" serving a functional purpose to a group, no ones actually finding you just for you and to chat and be friends (I've gotten messages from friends just needing me to settle arguments between other friends) - (after chanting fail at mumbo) "its just me, this is why i don't have friends" the finding yourself cringe at every turn and thinking wow this is why no one likes me. yknow as im typing this im thinking "wow this is why i have no friends, isn't it? im on tumblr using it as a diary rather than making friends and speaking to them about my issues or finding a therapist to work through my insecurities." - throughout the episode just hating everything he created and wanting to destroy it - the stairs and even later the egg (not relevant to having friends. well kind of but not really. but loneliness can make you act crazy its just the art block and frustration and disappointment in yourself and your failure to have a vision and properly bring it into fruition) - "i definitely won't back down on this, I'm committing fully to the egg" i have a bad habit of running away from friendships when i get scared of any slew of things or just don't like them anymore, hence why i no longer have friends :) - the fact each time he finds something, anything, to pull him away from his whole being alone thing and distract him for any amount of time he goes and dives full in but the conversation always comes back to how he has no friends. - feeling like you'll never be capable of creating and committing to long lasting healthy relationships like everyone else seems to be, settling for short term slightly toxic (joel literally didn't want to be his friend) ones just to have someone to be around. smth smth, "we accept the love we think we deserve."

i'd originally rewatched scar's secret life and thought it would make me sad cause he spent the whole time being alone but scar never made much of a big deal of being lonely and just made comments like "that's not right. how did the guy with no friends win?" feeling like he didn't deserve the win which echoes pearl in double life saying "this wasn't supposed to happen. i wasn't supposed to have friends" like she was scared of making bonds after being rejected by both martyn and scott at the beginning and like she was actually crazy and surely deserved them both leaving and didn't deserve friends but that pattern is an entirely other thing to dig into

when i first watched secret life as it was coming out (October to December 2023) i thought i was on good terms with this friend or was at least deluded and distracted enough to think that. i haven't rewatched grian's perspective since realizing our friendship was all falling apart at the beginning of this year (mostly in march) and then running away from some other friends and becoming a weird little egg on my own. its funny how grians made up improv'd loneliness can echo real loneliness, isn't it?

im very happy he got adopted by cleo and etho the next episode.

[the--rebel--fae]

Heyy, I have a little one shot request for Sanji (if that's okay). So, basically how would he reacts when he finds out that the reader has some old (like 5+ years old) self harm scars? Like, the reader is doing okay now but I have a feeling that Sanji's heart would probably break for them. Could be a little NSFW if you want. Honestly, I have a feeling that in this type of scenario Sanji would be the one who needs the comforting lmao (but go with what feels right to you ofc)

A/n: Hi!!! Of course it's ok my dear! I love writing for our little love sick chef! I hope you don't mind that it came out a lot more sappy than I initially thought it would. It kinda got away from me a bit. Eheh. But I hope you enjoy it nonetheless!

Tw: slight allusion to self harm and nsfw suggestiveness. But elsewise nothing but sappy fluff!

Love Can Heal

Fem! Reader x Sanji

“(Y/n), oh you are so beautiful mon ange.” Sanji groaned out as he placed hot, open-mouthed kisses from the corner of your mouth to your neck.

You let out a soft groan at his ministrations but then flinched slightly when he pulled the top and sleeve of your low boat neck shirt down. ‘Hopefully he doesn’t notice. Please don’t notice.’ You chanted in your head.

You hear Sanji let out a sharp gasp and you can’t help but cringe.

‘Dammit. He noticed.’

“My love, are these what I think they are?’” He murmured softly as he scootched closer to you on your shared bed.

Letting out a soft sigh, you look up into his beautiful eyes. “They are. But I can explain. More than five years ago, I was in a very dark place. So, I tended to do…that to try and relieve myself of my grief. But then, you guys found me and took me in as a Straw Hat, and that made everything better. Not right away, but you and everyone else fixed what I thought was long dead.” You grabbed Sanji’s hand and placed it in yours. “I’m alright now, Sanji.”

Sanji pulled his hands from yours and cupped your face. “That makes me happy that you are happy, my love. But what breaks my heart is that you felt you had to hide this.”

You glanced down at your lap and moved so you were snuggling into your boyfriend. “I was worried about what you would think of the scars.”

“(Y/n).”

Your head snapped up at hearing Sanji say your name so harshly. “You are the most beautiful woman I have ever met. Yes, I think all women are beautiful. But you outshine them all. You are my goddess. And the fact that you have come out the other side of this trial…alive, is a testament to how strong and amazing you are. And how lucky I am to be able to call you mine.”

Tears began to form in your eyes at Sanji’s beautiful words. You quickly pulled him into a passionate and sweet kiss. “Thank you, Sanji. That means the world to me. More than you’ll ever know. I love you so much, my handsome prince.” You whispered against his lips.

Sanji kissed you once more before gently bumping his forehead with yours and looking you in the eyes. “I love you, my beautiful princess. Forever and always.”

You let out a light giggle. “Yep. Forever and always.”

A/N: Well, I hope you liked the one shot! It was really sweet to write. I'm glad I got to write this! Feel free to request something again soon! And if anyone wants a personalized fan fiction story of their own from One Piece to Pokemon and more! I have many options! And I’d be happy to write y’all a story that you’d love! Just click this link below! And if you wanna keep up with what I’m doing with stories and updates on my shop, feel free to follow me here on Tumblr and on Instagram under Rebel Fae Productions

[ravenousnightwind]

Essence Bonding

This is a sort of go to for me, and I'm hoping that it works for other people as well. Specifically for autistic witches. It's also a bit of fun. Though anyone can use this, I'm just making a shout out to my neurodivergent magic folk because some of us have a hard time doing stuff. But feel free to use if it helps you!

Close your eyes. Breathe in through your nose, pull all the air into your stomach till you can't get anymore. Breathe out through your mouth in the same manner. Push all the air out using your guts until there's nothing left. Hold, four seconds. Breathe slowly through your nose normally. Focus on yourself. Find yourself in depths of the unfathomable darkness. Can you see yourself? Can you feel you? At the core, think about all your passions. Run through those passions in your mind like screens flashing by. Every moment in your life, every and anything that ever made you feel alive, no matter how serious or silly it was.

Imagine a light from within. Let the color slowly bleed from the dark depths of those passions and memories. Allow it to collect at the center and open the lantern that now appears. Release this color, this essence that is you. Allow it to fill your every being. Allow the color to flood your body. From your head, down into your extremities. Find that essence and release it unto yourself. Allow it to take shape.

To further, imagine this essence forming into a creature or other than human. Plant, humanoid, anthropomorphic. Whatever it is. Allow it to fill the color and shade itself in. Allow who you are to make it form from inside and let it show outwardly. Take a stance of which this entity, the real you would take. Feel the power it holds. The power you possess.

Chant with me now:

I call upon the powers from within

Fill me with my essence

Transform

Transcend

I am

And then whatever that thing is, feel it taking over and the power flooding through you in that color. Use it under your breath. Use it, personalize it, change it. Whatever works for you. Create your own personal spell/enchantment to harness your inner essence!

In my personal work, this is the opposite of shadow work. It is taking the positive things about yourself. I call it Essences. Or in this case Essence Bonding. You bond with yourself, with the things that give you personal power. You bring it to the forefront to give yourself strength. Even if it doesn't last. Use the chant, or any kind of wording you'd prefer.

My essence is violet blue, and my form is a black Phoenix with violet blue flames. Also occasionally takes the form of corvids and has corvid-like traits. A corvid phoenix? At the end I say:

I HAVE THE POWER!!!!!!!!

Cringe or not, it really helps me get things done or be able to move when I have a hard time. Hope it helps you.

[hebby-arts]

Decided I'd turn Silco into a Feesh. He's a dunkleosteus and a xenacanthus mixed together. His name is Selko, his daughter's name is Hex, and he's got Lore for my friend's Feesh species. I am cringe, but I am free.

His design is also based on Fishbones' updated design from ep 9. Also I know the dunkle didn't actually have an armored head, but fucka u i do what i want.

i'm gonna pleasure myself with this fish

[ okay to reblog, don't delete caption ]

under the cut has a sketch i was working on to plan out his full body. if i color it, there'll be more scars and stuff.

(chanting) fimsh fimsh fimsh fimsh

oh he's got a metal jaw cause his jaw rotted off at some point. he's fine. probably. hard to learn how to talk again, and tends to drool frequently. just the wettest kisses.

[nervousgardenerkid]

no thoughts, head empty, just being eddie’s sibling and convincing steve to come play a oneshot with hellfire (a oneshot is basically an entire ‘campaign’ that happens in one session compared to a campaign which takes multiple sessions) as a way to have eddie and steve bond in a more relaxed environment where overprotective older brother eddie is in his environment and therefore should theoretically be more chill

but no. eddie is doing whatever he can to make steve’s character suffer and/or die while steve is just flirting with you under the guise of playing his character (he’d probably play as bard because he has those vibes, probably a half elf bard or a human)

<3

Brotherly duties

a/n: this is quite literally the shortest thing i've ever wrote and it's bc i have no clue how d&d works😭i lowkey have a deep hatred for it cause my toxic ex would always play it and he was just a piece of shit so now i hate everything that reminds me of him LMAO lowercase everything is intended i'm too faded to correct things rn i hope i did this to your liking🥺credit to the gif owner! <3

steve had no clue how you managed to drag him to your d&d....thing. he cringes internally when he realizes that he can't even remember what you called it. he remembers the laugh robin let out once you skipped away from him with a smile on your face.

"dude, you don't know a damn thing about d&d!"

"don't you think i know that?! what the hell am i gonna do?"

and now here he is. sitting in a circle with the hell fire club lost as hell as everyone is chanting at steve. he breaks free from his thoughts when eddie throws a die at him.

"you're holding up the oneshot!" he shouts at steve.

what the hell is a one shot?! steve thinks to himself. his heart skips a beat when he hears you giggle at your brother bullying him. steve would gladly take a thousands dice to the face if it meant he could hear your giggle again.

steve grabs the dice that are sitting in front of him staring at them with wide eyes.

"i thought dice only had six sides?"

the party groans and dustin gently bangs his head on the table.

"just roll it!" eddie shouts.

steve tosses the dice back into the table looking back at eddie silently asking him what the fuck do these numbers mean.

eddie let's out a hum and smiles when an idea pops into his head.

"steve's character is dead!"

"what?!" you shout while standing up from your seat.

eddie nods his head. "yup, he's dead. may we all mourn his corpse, i ask for a moment of silence."

a literal second passes and eddie claps his hands together. "moment of silence is over! your turn mike."

"hold on now." steve says while sitting up. "you guys literally get to do whatever you want in this game. lucas literally rolled so that he could push gareth's character down!"

"and i will do it again." lucas said while glaring at gareth.

"let me roll again! if i land on a seven then..." steve decided now was the time. well, not really, but he figured he'd really get under eddie's skin and ask you out on a date in front of your very protective older brother.

"i get to take y/n on a date."

eddie slams his hands on the table and stands from his throne.

"YOU DARE TO DATE MY LITTLE, BABY SISTER."

"dude, you got me beat by like two months." you mumbled while sitting back down in your seat.

steve stares at eddie with wide eyes and opens his mouth only to close it quickly.

"um, yeah? you heard what i said right?"

eddie stands up straight and crosses his arms over his chest.

"absolutely..."

you smile at eddie. "really?!"

"NOT! over my dead body you're dating her!"

you stand back up and lean over the table. "that can be arranged."

bickering starts between the three of you and the rest of the part watches like it's free entertainment, except for dustin.

"i have to deal with these bone heads on a daily basis. all i wanted to do was play d&d...why me?"

"OKAY FINE!" eddie shouts. he points at the both of you and begins to smirk.

"he can take you out IF he defeats vecna."

you gasp and place your hands over your mouth as you narrow your eyes at your older brother.

"you monster."

eddie begins to laugh evilly knowing steve would never defeat him, not even the party has done that yet!

"who the hell is vecna?"

everyone groans, including you. steve rubs his finger tips along his temples trying to play catch up.

"i thought the bad guy was that werewolf dude-"

"he's a VAMPIRE!" eddie shouts.

steve looks at him and shakes his head.

"same thing."

eddie let's out a scoff. "same thing?! THIS IS WHO YOU WANT TO DATE?!"

"YES AND YOU CAN'T CHANGE MY MIND EDDIE!"

"is vecna the mind thingy? that's something different isn't it?"

eddie stares between you two and narrows his eyes at steve.

"steve. let's take a walk."

steve starts to follow eddie out of the theatre room when you grab his hand and hand him a bag of cheetos.

"take this with you, if he gets aggressive just hold it up like you would feed a rabid dog some steak."

you give him a small kiss on the cheek and push him out room. eddie is stood next to his van smoking a cigarette.

"listen man, i didn't mean to put you on the spot i just figured-"

"do you know why you're here, steve?"

"like...as in on this earth?"

silence is shared between the two of them before eddie take a long drag from his cigarette.

"no," he coughed out. "on oneshot night."

eddie takes his silence as a no and blows out a streak of smoke.

"she wants us to get closer. she figured since this my area of...expertise," he says with a smile. "she thought i'd be chill. laid back even!"

steve nods his head and chuckled at the fact that you think your brother would ever be calm.

"but let me be clear." eddie flicked his cigarette on the floor and stomped on it while blowing out whatever smoke he had left. "i am not calm when it comes to my sister. if i see her crying and she tells me it's because of you, i will break all of your fingers and feed you to that vicious dog."

steve gulps and looks at the dog eddie was pointing at that was sat next to his car.

"a cat could eat that dog."

"shut up!"

steve slowly takes the bag of cheetos out from behind his back and hands it to eddie with a smile on his face. eddie looks from the bag to steve's face before smiling and taking the bag of chips. he pops one into his mouth and walks back toward the building.

"i expect her home by 11! don't keep me waiting harrington, killer is a very hungry boy."

the small dog yapped at the two boys and ran in the opposite direction of them. you poked your head out once eddie was gone and stepped outside of the building.

"so, how'd it go?"

steve smiled and threw an arm around you.

"let's go hot shot, i have to have you home by eleven or your brother will feed me to the school's stray."

you let out a squeal and jumped into steve's arm laughing when he spun you around.

"HEY!"

you and steve look back at the school and see a very angry looking dustin.

"IF YOU BRING HIM BACK HERE TO PLAY AGAIN IM GOING TO KILL YOUR CHARACTER SO HARD. YOU'LL BE DEADER THAN STEVE'S DWARF!"

"I WAS A BARD!"

"do you even know what a bard is?" you asked him.

steve shook his head. "it sounded cool when your brother said it."

[kiridarling]

𝐌𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐂!

izuku midoriya | tw!guns, single mom!reader, bouncer!izuku, domestic stuffs, tit sucking, mommy!calling ah, AND daddy!calling oh my, breeding kink, breaking the bed (futon). minors dni!

— 5.4k words

“When’s the last time someone touched you like this, hmm?”

The alley is dark.

There's a disconcerting feeling as you step deeper into the quiet darkness,

You turn to look at the door you entered this dank place from, but it's just as dark and grimy as the walls. You're almost positive that if you rested a hand against them, it would return pitch black, and if you stood in one spot for more than five minutes, the sticky booze would glue your heels to the floor. You're surprised when it doesn't.

"Hand over your wallet and no one gets hurt, pretty lady."

He's a smarmy looking bastard and as thin as they come. It’s clear this isn’t something he does on the regular, the pointed gun quivering so much you worry a trembling might slip and pull the trigger. And you fucking freeze, blood running below zero and heart plummeting because why you?

And fuck, you’ve got a kid at home with a babysitter, and there are many outcomes to this situation, none of them too cute.

"I said hand it over," he grunts, pressing forwards. Your back hits the grimy brick wall as your eyes dart to the mouth of the alley, where life continues, where cars race past, but no one sees a damn thing. Fuck. Fuck.

And it's not like you have much—hell, you may be a mother, but you know how to party. You squeeze your eyes shut, grip tightening around your purse as you clumsily fumble through it and the man steps closer. You toss all you have to his feet. A fucking twenty. He raises an eyebrow before eyeing your watch. He lets out an unimpressed snort.

"That it?"

You nod, taking a shaky step back.

"Well, that ain't fuckin' enough."

There's a click and you're positive it's him turning off the safety. His face twists like he's about to shoot a bullseye, and you squeeze your eyes as tight as they can go.

Until the looming shadow of the stranger disappears, followed by a sound that's distinctly skin on skin. Er—skin on bone.

You don't watch the fight. Frankly, you don't want to, and you still get to hear your protector spew a litany of curses and disrespectful phrases that should really only come from someone's mother. You don't even open your eyes, still screwed shut with a vice grip around your purse and wallet.

"Um, excuse me Miss? Are you alright?"

Your protector's eyes are much bigger than you expect them to be—and green. You realize you remember seeing those eyes, hardened from across the club.

He's hesitant to touch you, hands rising and falling and rising again. Though you suppose a hug seems like it'd be a little abrasive, it also sounds like the exact kind of thing you need right now.

"U-Um, yeah I'm..." you start, before noticing your attackers body bloodied and wrapped like a pretzel on the ground. "...Fine..."

He sounds like he's going to pass out—he doesn't.

"We should um, we should get you home," As he speaks, the greenette shuffles you out of the alley and into the streetlamp light, blinking himself out of something before holding a meaty hand out of formality. "I'm Izuku by the way. Izuku Midoriya."

For such a big guy, Izuku seems rather timid, and yet, seeing him at the entrance with crossed arms in a black tee and a scowl in the club doesn't give you much insight into his personality. Which makes you wonder why he became the club's bouncer in the first place.

"Um, nice to meet you," you nod, trying to suppress the shake in your hands as you take his. "Y/N."

Izuku smiles at that, and even though you're a regular, you've never actually seen him beam on the job. "Cool! Cool, so...um, I don't really feel comfortable letting you walk home...alone..."

You nod—he panics as if you aren't already on board.

"'Cause it's like, a conscience thing, you know? Like, I really won't be able to sleep tonight otherwise," Izuku defends, shoving a clumsy hand in his green curls. "B-But if you don't feel comfortable with it, or something, that's totally fine! I know what you just experienced was horrible, and you probably do—"

"Izuku."

"Yeah?" He perks up. It seems as if the circuit his mind runs finally comes to a stop.

"I'd...feel more comfortable if you walked me home. Too."

Your innards ache at the stiffness in both your voice and figure, but Izuku doesn't seem to notice. Instead, he beams, standing ten feet taller, and you think—yeah. You'd feel much safer if he did.

"O-Okay! Cool!" He confirms a bit stiff himself, and then, in a smoother motion, holds his hand out to take. "Shall we?"

Your red palm claps over his, and you snort quietly, "We shall."

You two walk in a surprisingly comfortable silence for the beginning of the walk—you lead the way and he silently trails behind, glaring daggers at any passerby with lingering eyes as you march on, unknowing.

"So um, do you come to Club 777 often?"

Which is a question you know he knows the answer to, completely aware you almost come every Saturday. But you smile at his attempt to start a conversation anyways, hands tucking underneath your armpits in search of warmth.

"Yeah, sometimes. Just trying to get out and stuff. Y'know, away from the kid."

"I get that," he nods with a smile, before tugging at the hem of his hoodie. "Oh! Are you cold? Here—wait, let me."

He shucks it over your head and your positive it messes up your hair. But you find that you don't care much, especially in favor of the warmth that it provides.

And then, "You have a kid?"

"Yep," you say, tucking your fists into the jacket pockets. "A big two-year-old potato waits for me back home."

"Oh," Izuku chortles at your description before tucking his hands into his jean pockets too. Licking his lips, his eyes dart to the street, "I...assume your boyfriend watches him for the night? Or husband or whoever."

"Uhm, not quite," you chuckle towards your feet, though it's a touch acrid. Izuku picks up on it immediately.

"Oh I'm so sorr—I didn't kno—"

"It's fine, Izuku really—"

"I—but I shouldn't even be assuming what if you had a wife or girlfriend or—" he takes a second to gasp, and your eyes widen in fear that he'll choke, "—or if they're nonbinary or—"

"Izuku," you knock him on the shoulder and he finally shuts up. "It's fine. I get it all the time."

He falters, but at least he seems to relax. "Really?"

"Yes," you giggle behind a hand, and the greenette smiles at it.

"O-Okay, cool."

Flecks of gold swim in Izuku's green irises and you find yourself noticing them now, suppressing the urge to advance closer for a better look. You stare long enough to watch his smile relax into a comfortable line, but you snap out of it once he kicks a rock, the sound of the gravel skittering across the floor tugging you out of your reverie.

"I'm not very good with kids, y'know," he says as an afterthought. You snort.

"Really?"

"Yeah, I mean," he scratches the back of his neck sheepishly. "Like what am I supposed to feed it? French fries?"

"Toddlers aren't it's, Izu." You can't tell if he flushes from the nickname or from what you said, but either way, it's enough to prompt another laugh. "And maybe start with baby food?"

"Ah," Izuku nods, and you guide him in turning a corner. "That would make sense.

"It would."

By the time you stop in front of your red front door, it's almost three am. You figure you caught Izuku right after he got off work, if the cheesy All Might sweatshirt you're wearing is any evidence of that, but either way, he looks like he's about to fall flat on his face.

"You can stay for the night, if you want," you offer, albeit meekly, and Izuku lifts two hands with insistence.

"Oh! No no no please, I'm fine," he shakes his head so quickly his curls bounce in a flurry, and you genuinely worry he's going to pass out when he tries to blink himself awake. "Just...not used to staying up this late is all."

"Then stay," you offer with a shrug, and your orange porch light flickers. "It's the least I can do. I've got a bed and a futon, and I'm fine with sleeping on either."

"I..." Izuku's green eyes flicker towards your door before back to you, "I really shouldn't. I'm a stranger an—"

"And I'm offering."

Izuku's eyebrows fold with the dilemma, but you grab his hand with a tug and a smile, while your free one shoves the keys into the door. "C'mon. Let's get you some rest, yeah?"

You can't tell if Izuku blushes or if it's just the lighting, but either way, his chest inflates in protest before deflating in resignation.

"Okay."

With a smile, you turn the doorknob. Your door has always taken some shoulder to get open, so you don't hesitate in shoving your collarbone into the hardwood. Izuku cringes at the sight.

"Mama!"

Your hit in the legs first, nearly stumbling back with a quiet oof. You look down to see Max wrapped around your legs like you're a fucking jungle gym, grinning with two missing teeth and a bandaid over his nose.

It's three am.

"I'm done," your babysitter grunts. "He doesn't listen when I tell him to bathe, eat, anything—I fucking quit."

And with that, they slam the door behind them, house rattling under the pressure. You sigh. There goes another one. Fuck.

"Well that wasn't very nice," Izuku grumbles under his breath disapprovingly. You smile at the arms crossed over his chest until Max peeks around your legs to see...

"A new daddy?"

"I—no, baby," you fight the embarrassment (and the urge to say you fucking wish) by picking the little one up by his armpits, smiling when he thrusts his hands in the air and goes weee! After he's comfortably cradled in your arms, you say, "He's just staying the night."

"Like daddy did!" Max defends with a giggle before rushing the greenette with open arms. Izuku just looks at you with a shrug before kneeling to take a hug to the chest as Max chants, "New daddy! New daddy!"

And, well. There's no stopping him now.

You peel your heels off your cramping feet and sigh at the fucking freedom, toes uncurling from the scrunched position it feels like they've been holding the entire night. You curse under your breath when you realize since Max is awake you've got to put him to bed too, and honestly, if you knew this babysitter was going to be just as useless as the others, you would've just let Max run fucking free while you lived life for a few hours. Not like that outcome would be any better.

"Alright Maxie, c'mon."

You take him away from his celebration with the greenette and though he pouts, he allows his mother to gather him in her arms.

"Do you um, need help?"

You turn to see Izuku awkwardly shifting in the doorway from the request, hands behind his back with pursed lips. You shake your head.

"Oh no, it's fine. I just have to put him down really quickly and then I'll be—"

"Mama, I'm hungry. I want chicken nuggies." Max loops his arms around your neck and tugs so hard you worry about your bones. You shake your head with a sigh and a pout.

"It's too late for you to be up, bud. You can have chicken nuggies for lunch tomorrow. Sound like a plan?"

But goodness. In this state, it'll take hours for him to relax—and you still have to unfold the futon for Izuku.

Max whines and kicks his legs but doesn't say no, meaning he's not really that hungry, he just wants to stay awake. "But—but what if new daddy's gone in the morning like the last one?"

Fuck.

"Max," you sigh, giving him a light shake so his matching eyes look into you yours. You speak a little softer, "Izuku's not your new daddy, okay? He's a houseguest."

Max's face drops. "Not eve—"

"No, Maxie," you sigh, squeezing him on the shoulder. "Now let's go to bed, okay?"

"I can—I can put him down if you'd like! So you can get into something more comfortable and stuff. I mean, I've never worn a dress but sweats are so much better, you know? Or shorts, or...whatever you wear to sleep."

You understand the many points he's trying to get across, one being that's he's not a creep, just a nice guy, and you suppose you and Max can live in your "new daddy" fantasy for a little longer. Even if you know this one will be gone by morning.

"Um, okay yeah," you say, voice a little thin, before handing your child over to the greenette—who bounces into his arms excitedly. "I'll be back, then? His room is down the hall to the right. The one with the race car bed."

Izuku's eyes narrow as he processes your directions. "Down the hall to the right—okay! I'll just go take this little guy to bed, then."

"Okay, thank you," you nearly bow, because Izuku just saved both of you so much time and he doesn't even understand how. "Oh! And good luck."

"Good...luck?"

"Yep!" You say with a wink and a pat on the back before scooping your heels and booking it back to your bedroom with a cackle. Time to get out of this dress. Fucking finally.

You realize that being alone is much more unsettling when you've had a gun held to your head today.

Every little noise just seems off, like it could belong to something more than it actually does, even the silence; you find yourself shoving your head through your t-shirt abnormally fast, eyes blinking to take a survey of the room to ensure that you're alone. You are. It's fine.

And that's what you tell yourself when you close your eyes to run a wet rag over your face, and again with the dry one. All of a sudden, you don't like the way your bathroom window faces the open backyard nor do you like how dark it is outside. You don't like how big your bed looks, and goddammit, you haven't even gotten into it yet.

Pushing all uneasy thoughts aside, you stumble out of your bedroom with a fresh face and a new outfit, stilling in Max's doorway when the greenette doesn't notice you. Resting against the frame with crossed arms, you smile.

"I do so like green eggs and ham! Thank you! Thank you, Sam-I-am. You know, when I was a kid I—oh, he's asleep."

Izuku tucks the snoring boy in his lap under the covers with a gentle grin, pulling them underneath his chin. The greenette takes a second, watches Max's chest rise and fall a few times, before ruffling the tuft of hair on his head with a snort, and walking away.

You don't even think Izuku sees you until he practically sashays out the door, winking, "Good luck, huh?"

To say you go red in the face from that is an understatement.

"How do you do this?"

"Do what?" You ask as you pulling the futon in your living room forwards. Izuku yawns before gesturing to the clock with a shake of his head.

"Take care of a kid, and work, and go to a bar every Saturday evening? It's four am, and something tells me you've been up for a while. I'm practically dead and I wake up at one pm every day!"

You chuckle at that, jumping on the bed with your hands and knees to ensure its lays flat...and ensure that it won't make an Izuku sandwich at seven in the morning. "You build up stamina after a while, I guess."

"No shit," he gestures to you as you utilize the entire length of your body to put the sheets on the mattress. He would help, but you told him no, insisting that he'd only make this take longer. "Are you sure you do—"

"Nope," you huff, clapping your hands together. "I'm done."

Izuku blinks at the made bed, to you, to the made bed again, and then back to you with wide eyes.

"Mommy magic."

"I—" you blink towards the ceiling to see if that even makes sense, but you figure fuck it, it's four am, with a snort. "Yeah, sure. Whatever you want to call it."

In reality, you feel like you're about to pass out.

"Um, so I don't really have pj pants and I don't think you'll have any that'll fit, so..."

"Yeah no, I definitely burned all the shit my ex left—"

"Aha okay, cool, um, so just boxers...are fine...?"

He looks down at his black jeans and back to you, raising an eyebrow. You toss a nonchalant shrug in return, and you hate to say it, but your inner school girl goes—dick outline.

"O-Okay, then," Izuku says, and you watch his hands curl around the waistband. "I'm just gonna—"

He shucks his pants so hard they hit the floor, and your eyes widen because...well...looks like he's just gonna do it then.

Until Izuku's hands rush to cover his crotch (which you weren't peeking at, you weren't) and you realize that maybe you should've stepped out of the room or something.

"U-Um—that was fast—"

"I thought—thought you were going to uhm, turn around," he flushes, a funny contrast to the way his muscles fold under that black shirt, and your feet move to turn around like he ordered you to do it.

"Sorry! So sorry," you try to apologize, but now his dick print is burned in your brain, and...it isn't that bad.

"It—It's fine! I'm in the bed now so, you can turn around."

You laugh awkwardly and scuffle to turn, as you do, and Izuku beams at you from the bed with a wave.

"Hi," he says, his lower half-tucked under the covers. You wave back.

"Hi."

Izuku's eyes dart to you living room tv before the come back to you. "So uhm, I guess this is goodnight?"

"Oh right," you perk up at that, hands rubbing the sides of your thighs like there's something on them. "Time to go to bed, right?"

"Uh, yeah!" He nods, chest shuddering before he says, "so uh, sweet dreams?"

You smile tight at the kind gesture, and your hands opt to pull at the hem of your shirt instead, eyes drifting to an old pile of records you haven't regarded in months. "Thanks! You...too?"

Izuku smiles, though his eyes drift, "Yeah..."

You beam back. You figure you should probably go now, or something, until you think of something and slam a fist into your palm. "Oh! Also, I meant to thank you for saving me. I'm not sure if I did that. Did I do that?"

The greenette shrugs, "Uh, I think so?"

"Okay! Okay. Cool," you nod, flashing a tight smile. "Mmk. Night Izuku."

"G'night."

And see, you would move—except it seems as if your feet are glued to the floor and won't move no matter how hard you try, to the point where it feels like your straining and they're going numb, and yet you're still staring at Izuku's pretty fucking face.

"C'mon," he chuckles, scooting over on the futon to make extra space for you. "If you take all day, the beds gonna get cold, and then I'm going to have to crawl into yours like a creep."

"Oh my fucking god," you snort one breath and move to flick off the lights before stumbling through the darkness for the futon. "You're so weird."

"Weird in a good way, I hope," he lifts the blanket and you slide under—and swear your knee grazes his before it's snatched away.

"There's no weird in a bad way," you say once you've settled comfortably, tucking your hands under your head as you lay on your stomach. Izuku mimics your position, though he takes up much more of the blanket, and you find that it drapes over you like a tent over his shoulders. Neither of you close your eyes, for some reason.

"Hi," Izuku whispers.

"Hi," you smile back.

"Okay," he huffs, face twisting in determination, "Now it's goodnight."

"Right," you nod, but your eyes don't close. "Goodnight. Of course."

"Don't let the bedbugs bite," he says with a chuckle, and you can't tell if his eyes flicker to your lips or if you imagine it. Either way, you look them just in case.

"I better not have bedbugs," you snort. "I clean this place like a motherfucker."

Izuku's nose twitches at that with a nod. Moonlight pours into your living room and colors his pale skin silver, though you figure it won't take the sun much longer to color it a strawberry pink. "You really do. It's...different when it's quiet."

"Yeah," you agree, placing your hands on his chest. It shudders under your palms. "Kinda personal, huh?"

"Mhm," he nods, and though his hands wrap around your wrists, they never pull them away. You lift an eyebrow.

"A bad personal?"

Izuku doesn't hesitate, breath nearly ghosting your lips as he says, "Hardly."

"Would you..." now it's your chests turn to shudder, and sliding a hand up to play with his ear, you bite the bullet. "Like to get more personal?"

Izuku's lips melt into a grin against yours, "I'd love to."

His lips are softer than you thought.

Maybe because you assumed all of him was a bumbling mess, including his chapstick application; but they're fucking pillow-soft, and you don't realize how deprived you are until his hold around your body turns from protective to sensual and you melt from his heat.

"Fuck," Izuku huffs between kisses, growling when your grip around his neck tightens. "Watching you from across the club for weeks can do a thing to a guy's patience, you know."

"Oh?" You snort as he presses enthusiastic open-mouthed kisses down the column of your neck, hot and wet, and painful once his teeth dig into your collarbone. "A-Ah, Izuku—no marks."

"O-Oh! Sorry," he pulls away, lips red and swollen, and shiny with spit. You smile at the reaction.

"'S okay, Baby," you giggle at the speed to which his muscles go lax, and his eyes droop to your chest when you scratch the back of his head.

"Can I—can I suck your tits?"

He asks so bashfully it's nearly innocent, and you find your eyes dropping to your chest along with his before you're ditching his All Might sweatshirt all together.

"God," Izuku's eyes flutter as he gathers your breasts in both palms, groaning at the sight. "They're fucking perfect."

You shudder as his thumb ghosts a nipple, and Izuku dips an experimental hand under your lacy bra and pinches. Hard.

Your thighs jolt and hands fist the sheets, and a moan comes from the back of your throat before you can stop it. Izuku's hand rocket to cover your mouth.

"Shh—you don't wanna wake him up, do you?"

You shake your head, but it's hard to keep quiet when your nipples are as sensitive as they are. Izuku doesn't seem like he really means that statement, though, lowering his head with a devilish grin as if he knows that for himself.

“Sensitive, Mommy?”

“O-Oh um,” you flush at the nickname, and even more so when his lips close around your nipple and suck. Tangling a hand in his hair, you sigh, “Yeah, a little.”

Izuku hums at that, eyes fluttering to watch you bite your bottom lip in a poor attempt to muffle a moan, hissing as his teeth dig into the hardened bud. He pulls off with a slurp and moves to the other, but not without a few kisses across your chest.

“When’s the last time someone touched you like this, hmm?” Izuku nearly growls out before biting into the opposite nipple, and you shudder as he dips a scarred hand down the waistband of your shorts and panties. He chuckles after sliding a finger through your slit. “So wet for me.”

“It—It’s been a second,” you sigh, grip tightening around his shoulders as he slides a finger in. Even Izuku has to bite a lip at your tightness in anticipation, mouth descending over your nipple once more to send frissons of fire up your spine.

“No shit,” he grunts around your nipple, curling his finger. You gasp. “Think I can fit another one in there?”

“Why don’t you try?” You giggle, but it dissipates into nothing but air as he does, his two fingers filling you up enough to elicit a sigh.

“How’s that?” He breathes, face hovering over yours. As your hands coil around his neck, his free one reaches for your inner thigh and pulls it back far enough to give him a better angle as he presses you into the mattress.

“Good, it’s good,” you nod, and your hips start to move on their own, bucking forwards as if there’s any more finger left for you to fuck. (Spoiler: there’s not.)

“Good,” he breathes, eyes going glossy as he watches you writhe under him. You're positive that you're carving painful red lines into his back, but considering the way his eyebrows fold every time you do, makes you wonder if he doesn't mind. "Fuck I can't wait to fuck you—I can fuck you, right?"

"No Izuku, I'm just letting you finger me for fu-u—fuck."

He slides in a third finger and for some reason, it burns a little—but the burn only makes your eyes roll further, and he's stuffing you with a chuckle.

"What was that?"

"I-I—you're not pla—playing very fair," you huff, chest shuddering as he tilts your hips higher for a better angle. You suppress a scream when his fingers curl, jolting forwards at such a speed it makes the futon creak. Izuku tightens his grip around your waist to keep you from going too far.

"No one said anything about being fair, Mommy," he teases, and you whine when he removes his fingers, tapping them against your lips. "C'mon, you gotta get 'em wet so I can fuck you, right?"

You nod at the idea, enjoying the idea of being filled up much more, and coat his fingers to the point where they're dripping when he pulls him out. Izuku's chest rumbles.

"So good for me," he purrs, using your spit to coat his cock before he's sliding his head between your folds—you shiver, grabbing onto his back again. "Ready?"

“Mhm,” you nod, spreading your legs further—though you swear they do that on their own.

“Oh my, you’re um...tight...”

You whimper from the stretch and look between your legs, eyes widening upon seeing that Izuku’s much bigger than you had anticipated. Or had been warned of.

“F-Fuck, I can’t—“

“Shhhh, it’s okay, just a little more, okay?” Izuku nearly whispers into your lips as his hands move to rub your shuddering sides. Your eyes screw shut, “Jus’ a little more, Mommy...”

Izuku pushes deeper and you’re being split in half—because what else could that burn be—but you’ll admit, the feeling of accomplishment you receive once he bottoms out is surreal.

“Good—Good girl,” Izuku’s nearly quivering and plants his hands on both sides of your head with a huff.

“I-Izu,” you whimper as he starts to move, feeling impossibly full no matter how far he pulls out. Izuku shudders, mouth rounding into an ‘o’ when his hips slowly start to gain rhythm, and though it’s loud, you know the creak of the futon is unavoidable. You squeal as his head hammers into your cervix, pulling out a wanton Daddy before you have half a mind to shut the fuck up. You nearly freeze, and yet, all Izuku’s hips do is speed up.

“Yeah? Want me to be your new Daddy?” He moans, and you dig your nails into his back with a nod. The greenette curses at that, biting his bottom lip and his hand drops between your legs to rub at your clit. With thighs seizing around his waist, you slam a hand over your mouth to keep yourself quiet.

“Fuck—I make you feel that good, Mommy?” Izuku nearly wheezes, eyes suppressing the urge to screw closed, “So good you can’t keep your pretty mouth shut?”

“Y-Yeah, I—“ you gasp when he lifts your hips off the bed for a better angle, hands fisting the sheets. “Harder, Daddy—“

“Oh Mommy, if I go any harder I think I might break this bed,” he says, borderline bashful, but you find yourself saying fuck the bed as your hips buck in search of a feeling he refuses to give you. Izuku’s chuckle strains as he says, “So needy, Mommy. You that needy for my cum?”

Clawing at his back, you try your damnest to stutter out a yes. Izuku chuckles at your desperation before he cuts himself off with a groan, eyes rocketing to where you’re both connected as you tighten around him.

“F-Fill me up, I wanna—“

“You want another baby, Mommy?” Izuku pants, and you’re so close you start to feel a buzz in your thighs, praying he isn’t too far behind. You nod vehemently with a gasp and his lips slide into an exhausted smile, "Fuck, of course you do—and you’re gonna take me so well, aren’t you? All of it.”

Izuku finishes his sentence with a growl, pressing you further into the mattress—it squeaks like a squeaky wheel, and when it thunks a level lower both of you yelp, the back of the futon thumping on your hardwood floor with each thrust.

“Told ya,” Izuku wheezes, eyes scrunching in a chuckle. You return it.

“It—It’s old anyway,” you reply, but your eyebrows fold as quickly as they unfold from the crash. The creaking futon increases in pitch as his hips pick up the pace, “Fuck—fuck Izuku I’m gonna cum.”

“What’s my name?” The greenette challenges, and you find yourself shivering at the dominance he exudes. The finger on your clit disappears and you whine, knowing damn well you can’t cum without it.

“Daddy—Daddy please—“

“Good—fuck, so good for me,” his hand returns to your clit and you sigh at the feeling. As the coil in your gut threatens to snap, his hips speed up, and Izuku pants, “We’re gonna cum together, yeah? Cum with me Mommy, c’mon—“

“Fuck!” You drag red lines down Izuku’s back as you quake under the weight of your orgasm, broken bed whining as Izuku thrusts all his weight into you. Digging his teeth into your shoulder, the greenette cums with a broken moan, hips stuttering into yours for the final time that night.

The room fills with a comfortable silence, minus the panting, and Izuku rolls onto the mattress next to you with a bounce. It creaks, whines, and then drops again, catching both you and the greenette by surprise. (Again.)

“I think—I think we broke it,” Izuku says towards the ceiling as he catches his breath. You giggle at that, hands laid across your sweaty stomach, and turn to him with your head in the pillow.

“Gives me an excuse to buy a new one,” you say with a shrug. Izuku chuckles back.

“I guess,” he teeters his head to both sides. “I can...also pitch in, if you want. Since I broke the thing. Technically.”

His offer sounds apprehensive as if he’s encroaching in your space, as if he hasn’t been all up in your space less than a minute ago. You smile. “I’d like that a lot, actually. Thanks.”

"And um, breakfast? I mean," he snorts, though it seems rather defensive, and his eyes rocket to the ticking clock on your wall. Your eyes follow: five am. "I mean—fuck um, I feel like this might be weird but I think you're cool? Um, yeah, so breakfast, I can make it if you want because you're so busy being motherly and stuff and plus, it's Sunday but again, if you don't wan—"

"Izuku," you giggle, wrapping your arms around his gut with a little squeeze. "Breakfast sounds nice."

The greenette beams and his chest stutters. "O-Okay cool! Cool, cool. Breakfast then?"

You snort, driving your palm into his face to shut him the fuck up. "Goodnight, Izuku."

Izuku giggles, getting the message, and coils his arms around your shoulders to provide a comfort you haven't felt in a very, very long time.

"G'night Mommy."

[bakubub]

In which racer!kuroo is your roommate, and seems to only like it when you treat his wounds... (word count: 1.9k)

Ngl quite proud of this one!!

Warnings: 18+, a whole lot of swearing, a whole lot of blood, innuendos and implied nsfw, reader almost vomits (NOT from pregnancy chill, I know we're all scarred but its going to be just fine) and if you're squeamish perhaps skip the scene where reader stitches his wound?

Also bit of a disclaimer: I am in NO WAY a med student and literally all of my knowledge is from movies and other fics... so if you acc know what to do in this situation this may be a torturous for you :D

All due credits go to @aikk00​ for this AMAZING fanart!!!!

I watch as my roommate enters the penthouse, once again scratched up and bleeding, covered in so much blood there is no possible way that it was all his- if it was he would not be standing.

I launch myself off the couch- where I was sitting for the past hour nervously waiting for his return- and slip my arm under his, supporting him as we inched towards the bathroom.

"I can do this by myself you know," he grumbles, his grimace revealing just how much pain he was actually in.

"Mhm, I'm sure you can. Just like you boiled that poor egg by yourself last week, hmm?" I say sarcastically, trying to keep my mind calm and clear, because oh my god it looks really bad this time...

"Oi, its not my fault it fuckin' exploded," he mutters, voice laden with pain.

"You put it in the microwave because 'the shitty water wasn't doing its job.' Of course it would explode," I say, gently seating him on the closed toilet seat and taking out my supplies that I unfortunately have become rather accustomed to using. He's made it a habit to get himself injured.

"Where's the injury?" I ask, setting down my half-empty bottle of antiseptic and box of bandages. He peels off his shirt, cringing at the pain it brought him as the fabric was stuck to the gash that went from his left pectoral down to the middle of his chest.

"Pissed off a bidder after winning a race, fucker took out a knife once he realised he couldn't beat me up," he huffs out, arrogance still lacing his tone even with sweat dripping down his brow as he leans the back of his head onto the tile wall behind him. His Adam's apple bobs down his bloodstained neck as he speaks, and I quickly look away, focusing on the injury at hand.

Not his blood soaked, but nevertheless well defined pectoral muscles, nor the abs that my hands occasionally brush up against and know how hard they really are, and definitely not the trail of black hairs that lead down, down, down...

"What's wrong, the view too hot to focus on the work at hand?" He asks suggestively, raising his pierced brow, even in this state.

I'm quick to reply, having gotten used to his flirtatious remarks from the second I moved into his penthouse, "nope can't even see the view from that massive head of yours. Not to mention your permanent bed head."

He huffs out a laugh, then proceeds to flinch from the pain it must have caused.

"Stop moving, idiot. You're going to exacerbate the cut!" I say, quickly grabbing a damp towel and beginning to clean up his abdomen, whilst simultaneously pressing another rag to his wound to stop the bleeding.

“At least you admit that there is a hot view,” he says in his low voice, gazing at me from his position.

I simply roll my eyes.

No falling in love. That was the deal we had made on the day he offered me a place to stay in exchange for my services as a maid and apparently, a nurse. I cook, clean and basically keep the house running while this moron goes out and acts like the idiot he is. In my defense, dorms are expensive as hell, and his penthouse is nearby. Plus, I don't have to pay rent. It's a win-win situation.

But the feelings stirring up inside my heart might just ruin the dynamic we have going on and simultaneously take out a whole lot of cash out of my pocket.

At least, that's what I keep telling myself.

Once his skin isn't completely saturated in blood, and the wound has (thankfully) stopped bleeding, I add some antiseptic onto a make-up pad and begin to dab at his wound, earning winces and slight grunts from the massive man.

"The cut looks deep, Kuroo. You need to go to the hospital," I say, worry lacing my tone as my eyebrows crease and earn yet another huffing laugh.

"Do you want me to rot in prison for the rest of my life?"

I roll my eyes at his response, deliberately dabbing just a little harder which earns me a yelp and an attempted glare in my direction.

"First off, illegal street racing won't send you to prison for your entire life, just for like, half a year. Second, this wound needs stitches, and believe it or not, I'm not a fucking licensed medic. In fact, the only experience I have is with you!" I say, immediately regretting my choice of words as I wait for his remark.

"That's what she said," He says, chuckling at his own innuendo.

I sigh in frustration, pouring more antiseptic to make sure there was no chance of infection from whatever grimy ass knife stabbed him, and beginning to gently scrub the wound with a soft towel, so as to make sure there was no debris left in there.

"You're gonna have ta do it," he mutters, his hazel eyes boring into mine.

"I- I can't Kuroo, you can't possibly think-"

"Fine. I'll do it. Go get me a needle and thread," he states, struggling but nevertheless, sitting upright on the red stained toilet.

I stare at Kuroo in disbelief as he utters these words. Was he dumber than I thought? Does he have some sort of head injury too?

I examine his face and all I come up with is unnerving determination. I exhale out of my nose sharply, "fine, dammit. I'll sew your fucking wound shut."

I am extremely handy with a sewing needle and thread, used to really be into embroidery back when I had the time so...it should be fine.

He just shrugs, leaning his head back against the tiles and closing his eyes.

"Fucking asshole. Can't believe I'm saving your damn life," I mutter, leaving the bathroom to dig through my wardrobe for my sewing box and taking out a gold silk thread that I was saving for a special project.

Well, I guess that will never happen.

"Hey, I found some silk thread. It's literally known for its strength and durability in high temperatures, so it should work like a charm!" I say, walking back into the blood stained bathroom and trying to psych myself up.

He grunts in response. I sigh as I begin with mopping up the excess blood and sanitising the needle and thread before chucking on gloves.

I wipe the antiseptic over the wound once more, and examine it carefully.

Well, if his condition worsens, I can always knock him out and call an ambulance...

I decide, screw it, and thread the needle, pretending it was just another embroidery project.

It's okay, it's okay, it's okay, I chant as I puncture his skin with the thin needle.

Kuroo gasps in pain, and I place a hand on his knee, telling him to suck it up and deal with it, half talking to him but also to myself.

To my surprise, he listens, stretching his head back once more and gritting his teeth.

"Don't do that, here put this in-between your teeth," I say, grabbing yet another towel and shoving it into his mouth.

He obeys as I continue to stitch. I feel my gag reflex kicking in as I think about how stitching skin feels as though I am stitching leather, it feels hard and tough while pushing the thin needle through.

Must hurt like a bitch.

Once I've completed my neat stitches down the wound, without vomiting, I tie it off as I would with any embroidery, and clean the area free of any remaining blood. After rubbing some antibacterial ointment over the gold stitches, I stick on a particularly large bandage over the wound and start tidying up.

"Thank you," Kuroo mutters, still seated on the toilet seat and practically panting for breath.

"Ah, the criminal knows his damn manners!! Now get up and get in the damn shower. You ruined my pristine bathroom!" I complain, putting the last of the materials away before walking to the door.

"Wait, I- I can't get up." I turn around and look at him incredulously as he utters his next few words, "will you... shower me?"

My eyes just about pop out of their sockets at his request. "Are you insane?! I'm not your mother, nor your wife! Call your pudding haired friend and tell him to come shower you!"

He shakes his head, a rare pleading look taking the place of his usual arrogant smirk, "Kenma's too lazy to shower himself, Y/n, please!"

I contemplated it for a moment. Sure, I've seen him naked before, accidentally of course, and so what if I have to scrub him clean. God knows he can't do it himself with that damn injury.

Fuck this shit.

"Fine, get up right now." I bark at him, leaving to change out of my blood soaked pjs into a pair of shorts and a tank.

"...I just said I can't."

---

"Ow, y/n, you're scrubbing too hard!" He complains, his exfoliating glove around my hand as I rub his toned back clean of any dead skin-cells and blood remains.

"But look how much stuff is coming off!" I say gleefully, enjoying this a little too much.

Kuroo, seated on the built-in bench in the open shower with his red boxers on, looks back to see the satisfaction dripping from my features.

"Are you secretly a sadist?" he whispers. In response, I begin to rinse off his raw back with hot water, causing him to screech like a cat.

"It burns, it burns-”

“Shut the fuck up, moron! It's 4 in the morning, you’re going to annoy our neighbours. I tried very hard to get in their good graces, and Mrs. Suzuki still doesn’t like me! She definitely thinks I’m some kind of hooker…” Kuroo laughs at this, and I can’t help but watch as his whole face brightens up from his usual emotionless expression. I find myself smiling in response.

I grab his expensive shampoo and pour some into my hands, beginning to massage it into his scalp. With wet hair, his raven strands are for once flat on his head and reach down to his defined jawline. Kuroo groans under my touch, leaning into my fingers. I snatch my hands back and pour hot water over his head.

"ARGH! Y/N!" He screams, hastily getting up and wetting me in the process.

"Ah- what are you-" I don't get to finish my question as he grabs my arm and yanks me next to him under the hot water, soaking my clothes and my hair.

"You asshole!" I screech as I reach up to pull his hair in defiance, but he only grabs my arm and hooks it around his neck, leaning down to look directly into my eyes.

Our noses brushing against one another, he mutters, "You look pretty with your hair wet and your shirt see through."

It takes me a moment to get past the compliment and to hear the perverted comment that he just uttered.

He sees my look of confusion and laughs, bends over, clutches his stomach and laughs, before bellowing in pain because of his injury.

Smiling smugly down at him as he grimaces, I force him to sit back down and continue massaging the shampoo into his hair, warning him that if he so much as moaned I would leave him in here, dripping wet and in pain.

"That's what he said," is his reply.

I smack his head in response.

Notes, interactions and reblogs are highly appreciated <3

[fearofahumanplanet]

D.N.R. (short story by me)

I've been just venting with this blog lately and that's kinda cringe so I'm going to compensate by venting with a story instead, something I wrote a long time ago to help cope with my BPD and process it. I hope it can help someone understand people with this condition or help those with this condition find something to relate to or smth.

I'm okay right now, I'm just really proud of this story and wanted to actually share some of my work to maybe cope with how I've been feeling today better. I wrote this story a year or two ago and I'm doing a lot better now - I have a therapist, treatment, a small support system, etc. I don't want this story to prompt worry, I just want to share for anyone who needs it. It's dark, but it's how I heal.

TW: Suicide references/suicidal thoughts, self-harm, BPD symptoms & references to unstable relationships, light blood, self-hatred (lmk if I should add any more). If you're in a bad place, I would not advise reading this (unless raw emotion like this helps you personally).

General Taglist: @aohendo, @athenswrites, @impaledlotus, @bardic-tales, @carefulpyro

I live my life in a waiting room.

I wait, they wait, we all wait. It’s supposed to bring us together. It’s supposed to make some sort of fucking team out of us. That’s the funny thing about people, really. You could glue us together, and we’d tear ourselves in half just to get away.

Don’t take that as a criticism free of hypocrisy.

With that thought in mind, I can only thank the heartless gods above for sentencing me solace, over and over and over, and I’ve never been so compliant and happy with a decision I loathe and regret.

My name doesn’t matter, never has. I’m a therapist of sorts. Real funny, I know – People can always tell, even past the pessimism that drenches every word, the agoraphobic misanthrope at my core.

You wouldn’t think I’d manage it, but it’s fascinating, how far you can get with a broken smile.

I mean, it’s a broken smile – Of course it’s a lie. Of course it’s a fallacy, of course it’s forced, fit for a fiend. But no one’s noticed yet. That’s the strength of a well-timed joke, one calculated mask. You hide everything you are, and you find something that’s real likeable. A real people person, someone sent to save.

And I save. Some days, I don’t feel I can manage that, but they tell me so. In this room of four walls, of a blank floor and ceiling, of nothing but a clean, inviting chair – I find the writings on the walls, the notes in the margins, little hopes from the haughty heavens.

You’re not alone. You are loved. You are valuable. You save so many. You are funny. You never run out of things to say. You are loved. You have saved lives. You have redeemed every sin. You are loved. You know how to bring a smile. You aren’t going to die alone. You won’t ever be alone again.

The angels of my idyllic fantasies surround me, chanting, touching, holding.

You are loved. You are loved. You are loved. You are loved. You are loved.

And every day, I remember to stop slamming my head into the wall with every recitation. Every day, I lean down low, where all is familiar. I soak the blood in my fingers, let it run down the skin, let it fill out the cracks in my psyche. And when it’s all buried, when it’s all swept out of sight…

I slap on my broken smile, and greet the droves devouring.

It’s another broken woman, meek behind a mismatched mask. Her smile is broken, and I’m the only one who sees. They never mean to find their way to me, but they do.

It’s the same game every bloody time. I say hello. They say hello. They wonder how I got here. I just tell them I have a knack for showing where I’m needed. They don’t think about it. They never think. They don’t even know who I really am, my mask a memorable masterpiece. It’s always small talk at first. Music, video games. They tell me they don’t understand, my compassion, my kindness, my understandings. I shrug, and flash another humble, hollow smile.

Why wouldn’t I be this way, I say. Every damn time. I never need to adjust the script. There are no plot holes to cover, no rusted gears. The system grinds on without deviation.

I try not to let them in. I try to keep them above surface level, make sure they only meet the mask. It never works, but I’m going to try again. Spin the hamster wheel.

It’s not that I wish to keep them away, you see. I’m only an isolationist by incident, a misanthrope by mistake, a pariah by punishment. I’m sick, hopelessly sick. It seeps out from beneath my skin, hiding behind my sunken eyes, lurking under my serpent tongue. I try to swallow it down, treasure the venom. No one needs to know, no one that doesn’t already. No one I’ve yet to fail.

And this woman, like every one before her, she doesn’t know a thing about me. But the venom is alluring, and I know everything about her. I see it in her lying eyes, and she breaks down and spills her guts out on the floor. I just mop them up and listen, cradle her when she cries, pet her hair when she can’t spit out any more. And I just smile and embody the angels.

It will be all right. You are loved. You are not alone. There is someone out there for you. You will not die alone. You are loved. No one is beyond redemption. No one is without hope.

And I can say every word with absolute belief, every scene in my script without error. I have had thousands of years to practice, and I will have thousands more.

This next bit always happens. Actually, I could say that about everything here, but this I resent the most. She thanks me, and tells me she’ll be back tomorrow. I smile and tell her I’d love that. She says she will never abandon me.

I keep the smile on, let loose no levity. And I tell her, like I told all the others. These things never last. She will grow to hate me, and I tell her so. She will grow to loathe the mere thought of me, and I tell her so. She will grow to rue my name, to curse the ground I walk on, to panic and stab and burn until there is nothing left of me before her.

And I tell her so.

And without a waver, taking no time for hesitation, she just says she’s not like the others. That she isn’t going anywhere, this time. That there is hope this time. And not once she wonders why the theoretical therapist is the one breaking down every fucking night. Why would she? It’s all out of sight.

And she’s gone, away from me, and I know she will spend every minute thinking about me. And I know I will spend every one of those minutes regretting them.

This pariah paces her pen, praying for a pale horse.

The silence overwhelms. The silence snuffs, the silence sneaks in when you think you’ve found a sure fate.

I contemplate, turn and roll over in mud and dirt. The day slips away, and night nuzzles in. I think about my newest woman. I have seen it happen so many times, over thousands of years, hundreds and hundreds of times.

But I am naught but a full circle, and I allow myself hope again. I allow myself one more forsaken breath.

The silence slips down low, rejuvenating my venom, strengthening my sickness. I try to eat, and I vomit it up, hoping my heart will come up with it. The thought is fast and sudden, just like that. It no longer shocks, no longer ignites alarm. I cannot fathom concern.

I rock back and forth in the dark, empty room. I put on one of countless records, watch movies of malicious murder and horrific hatred, write another story no one will ever read. I pace the room, I kick the walls, I scream my lungs out to the tune of my favourite song. With every meaningless minute, I forget myself. With every severed second, I lose track.

And it always hits me, every night, the same sudden thought, the same onset of dread. Isn’t that funny?

Every night, I feel I’ve lost my mind.

I can’t lose it over and over, of course. It must have left me long ago. But if I’m going to lose my mind, couldn’t it take all of its malignant maladies with it?

The second thought is always the same too. This fate feels like forever.

And that’s even sillier than the first. Of course it’s forever. It will always be forever. There is no escape.

There is a third thought. Don’t worry, this is the last one, and it too, happens every night.

It’s that this thought should be the last one.

So, I make it so. I take the knife, and I try to find out what makes me tick, scout out a new avenue, plot out some new elaborate method I have yet to attempt. Every night, that is how I go, cradling the knife like a stuffed teddy, showering myself in a bottle of vodka, popping my pills like candy.

I find every way to numb my nagging nuisance of a mind, and it still keeps coming. Because I know, deep down, this new hope is nothing new. It is a resurgence, a repetition of centuries past. It is a false flare, a lost lighthouse. And I swim and I swim, even as I tell myself to sink. And every night, I do. I sink, drenched in my own blood, seeping out through freshly torn slits, the aroma of alcohol affecting every word I regret. I spend minutes debating, searching, no inch of skin untarnished.

It comes to something when you run out of room for scars.

I’ll say not a word, not to the aiding angels, not to the compassionate client. I am alone, I have always been and always will be. I was born and thrown away without the aid of another, abandoned with abject apathy, and I am content with my lot.

I am not content because I am happy, but I am content for I know there is nothing better.

Sometimes, if I’m particularly unlucky, the angels will hover in, finding my bloodstained, drunken corpse stretched out across the floor. They will tug the bottles from my hands, hide the knife somewhere else, knowing I will find it again. I am determined, I am without limit, waning in this war simply for a will without want.

If they’re there, they always tell me. I am loved. I am wanted. I am needed. I am of worth. I am of benefit. I have saved. I have redeemed. I am not alone.

The angels smile around me, fading with every flicker of the candle. They are real, but they don’t know a thing. They are so far away, holding me to their chests.

They are scared. I am loved. They are scared. I am loved. They are scared. I am loved.

They need me. They can’t live without me. They can’t. They can’t imagine a world without me.

It’s a shame I have proven to be so uselessly useful. It is a shame I have found a way to chain worthy souls to my empty body. It is a shame I always manage to find a new person to save, when I can’t even save myself.

It is a shame they can’t imagine a world without me, because I no longer want to imagine a world with me.

Every time I die, I fear at the fall. Not for my soul, for the promise of hell is a welcome relief. Not for the ones left behind, because I know they’re better off without.

And every night, I write it on my neck, over a thousand purple scars.

D.N.R.

Instructions no one will abide by. I hope they do this time. I hope they abide. I hope they forget. I hope they respect.

Tonight is like every night. I pass away and fall, embrace the empty, find there is nothing beyond the void, realize the devil below or the salvation above are simply manufactured dreams.

There is nothing, and I am nothing.

Every morning, air ambushes my ambivalence. I remember to live again, remember I have a job to do. I roll out of bed, stitch the wounds, pry shattered glass loose of skin. I feel for my heart without hope, and see with no amount of surprise that beats once more.

I loom over the mirror, and search the dirtied floor for my abandoned broken smile.

I stitch on my savior’s smile.

And I meet the woman again, the name of who matters not. They orbit my ouroboros, like every one before her, and they are identical in naught but function.

Like all the others before her, I embody her anchor. She comes to me, day in, day out. She sees the fresh scars and beating bruises, but I tell her to worry not. I reassure her with promises and encourage, and I get closer and closer.

And every time I learn to love again, I forget why I chose to let that knowledge go.

The longer we lay together, the less she’s convinced. As weeks whistle by, I have to let my mask slip, loose my serpent’s tongue. The venom crawls down her skin, and I can see what I am doing, but I am too selfish to care. With every drop, my scars and sins come clearer in view, like blurred photographs rendered in clarity.

And I can see her eyes break with every passing month, but I am too selfish to care, too lonely and lost to let her go.

I tell her of the ocean, of my wistful love for the waves. I tell her of beaches, of abyssal depths only I know. I tell her I will take there, I tell her I will never let her go. And I know I never will.

And with my hand in hers, every longing lie is a cross easier to bear. My will wears away with every passing night. Every moon, I re-iterate my instruction.

D.N.R.

Because maybe they’ll listen.

D.N.R.

Maybe someone above will practice mercy.

D.N.R.

And with all this hate I’ve spread, this venom I’ve made a virus, you’d think one victim would find a way to strike me down.

Tonight, months into this ouroboros, she joins the angels, the hundreds of angels. She is still solid yet, not like them, fading and translucent, hazy and flickering. She has found me with a fallen mask, met me in my correct configuration.

I always want to tell them not to lean on me. Because when they do, I lean on them, and I know the disease will spread.

But she joins the angels, like all the real ones did before, pleading with me, making me promises I know will fade away. She fails to see them around her, crowding, begging.

I am loved. I am wanted. I am needed. I am valuable. I am of worth. I am helpful. I am funny. I am the highlight of your day. I am clever. I am insightful. I am a blessing.

And you are lying. And you are lying. And you are lying. And you are lying. And you are lying.

And I wish you fucking knew that.

And I beg her not to leave me, as the blood fills my lungs. And she says she never will.

Not like every love before her, not like every ally before her, not like my mother before her, not like my home before her.

And the promise is a cushion, even as I know she’ll change her mind. But I hold onto hope. Because that’s what the angels tell me every day.

There is hope. No one is beyond saving. You still have time.

Time is not a comfort. Time is a sentence. Time is the promise of life. Time is something I do not wish to handle.

And I scream out every one of these words, roar out many more.

Because when the mask falls, I am the venom. I am sick, I am violent, I am overcome, I am lashing out.

And no matter how hard I try, I find no healthy option to shuttle it all away.

How do you help someone hidden away in the waiting room? How do you help someone buried from birth, silenced from the start?

Why do they tell me they want to hear my words, when every single letter leaves a scar?

I am never alone. My shadow hangs over me, and it never leaves me a moment’s peace.

And so I die again, choking on my own poisonous bile.

This is not the first incident the woman sees. It happens again, two weeks later. Again, four days after. Again, two days after. Again, three hours after.

Because once the mask drops, I can never seem to find it again, and I fail to dig up another broken smile.

The sickness wears on her, paling her skin, bags beneath her eyes, cold resignation beneath more and more words. And I have seen it happen a thousand times, and I cannot help but remind her that it is my fault she grows sick. I remind her that I am at fault for my contagious nature.

And it takes so long. It takes months, and months. But she finally lets go.

I hold her all night long, and we talk of the ocean. I hold her, and she tells me of the places we’ll go, and the things we will see. And I dream of broken promises.

I dream of the ocean.

I wake up, and she is gone.

I scream and I thrash, and I drench her side of the bed with my blood.

The sun comes and goes without care, hidden out of sight. I shiver and vomit, cradling my broken body, tracing every well-deserved scar. And I wake up dead that morning, once more, routine inescapable.

I stare my newest angel in the eyes, pale and flickering like the rest, a ghost to the reasonable soul.

A mangled memory.

I am loved. I am needed. I am wanted. I am helpful. I am clever. I am helpful. I am a blessing. I am-

I shoot the angel, knowing she will return, knowing the ghosts of my criminal past are this pariah’s penance. I take another drink, gulp down another pill, come up with another broken smile.

I know not whether this will ever end. But this is my lot in life, and I have learned to welcome my lonely road.

I hear the chime of the bell, another clueless client, the ouroboros coiling anew.

I consider my options, consider the dead woman, staring back at me from the mirror with empty eyes.

And I know I will keep fighting. I know this is a war I will always wage. It is not out of want, nor out of will. Not out of spite. Not out of hope, not out of hate. Not out of love.

I stand up again, and again, and again, because I have nothing left to fear. I continue to fight because there is no terror found in a predictable cycle, no horror in a novel with a spoiled ending. To want to live, to want to die, I’d have to care.

And if I cared, I’d collapse under the weight of every single thing I’ve ever done.

So I stare down these sunken, apathetic eyes, resigned in their duty. I carve the instructions in my forehead once again. Not out of hope, but out of habit.

D.N.R.

Do not resuscitate.

Maybe one of these days, lightning will strike.

If not, I am content with waiting.

[floating-mid-air]

The Princess Of All Saiyans

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Masterlist

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Hey guys! Chapter nine is here. And this one is a fun one. As always, I hope you enjoy. And if you have any comments or questions regarding this fic, feel free to let me know.

Also if you've been following this story for a while, then you'd know how inconsistent I am when I post chapters of this story. Sometimes it takes me two weeks to write another chapter, and other times it takes me an entire month. So if you're interested in being notified whenever I post a new chapter, you can join my tag list here.

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Chapter 9

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Vegeta and Raditz land simultaneously, both Saiyans carefully observing their surroundings. All of the Dragon Balls have remained in place, but that provides very little relief. There isn't a trace of your presence, not a footprint, not even a stray hair. "Y/N!" Raditz shouts at the top of his lungs. This was a severe mistake on his part. For his own sake, Raditz better hope the Ginyu force hasn't heard all of his commotion.

Vegeta paces back and forth, his hands knotted through his hair. "Relax, Vegeta. She couldn't have gotten far." Despite Raditz's calm words, his tone gives him away completely. It wouldn't take a genius to figure out that he's just as anxious as Vegeta. 

Raditz's advice doesn't seem to calm down the prince even a little. In fact, he only seems to grow more distraught. "Raditz, you don't understand. I never disclosed the location of the Dragon Balls to her."

Raditz furrows his brows at the smaller Saiyan. "What the hell, Vegeta!" Never in his wildest dreams did Raditz ever imagine himself shouting at the prince. He didn't even notice that Gohan and Krillin had joined them. Hopefully, they've picked up bits and pieces of the conversation because neither Saiyan has the patience to deal with their idiocy at the moment. "Just--- What the fuck were you thinking?" Raditz doesn't understand. How can Vegeta go from ordering someone to stay glued to your side at all times to leaving you to fend for yourself on a foreign planet? It's only been a few weeks. How can he have gone through such a drastic change in such a short amount of time?

"If I knew the Ginyu Force was coming, do you think I would've left her alone!" Their bickering is doing nothing to help. In fact, it's probably making the situation worse.

"Alright. How about you both calm down." Krillin decides to jump in and play peacemaker. "Y/N seems more than capable of taking care of herself. We need to focus on the threat. We need to get this over with and summon the dragon before something bad happens."

Both Saiyans turn to the smaller earthling, glaring daggers at him. "Who gives a damn about immortality right now! You don't know the first thing about my sister! So don't stand there all high and mighty and act like you do." Krillin hit a nerve, but it wasn't just in Vegeta. 

The earthling wants to revive his friends, but there is something he doesn't understand about Raditz. You've been the faint speck of light in his otherwise shitty world, the only friend the Saiyan has ever had. Even though he stood with his brother, you're still a priority over the resurrection of a handful of puny earthlings. 

"Interesting to see where your priorities lie, Geta!" Your legs have been sticking out of your handcrafted shelter the entire time. It's funny to see what details people miss while they're in a state of panic. You lean forward, revealing yourself to the abnormal group. Now your entire body hangs off the mountain.

Four sets of eyes look up at you, all with varying responses present on their features. "Oh, thank god," Vegeta whispers, at an octave low enough only for him to hear. Raditz places a hand on his chest, sighing in relief as Vegeta's features contort in displeasure. "What did I tell you about pulling shit like this? Get your ass down here!"

You jump down, landing in front of the Dragon Balls. This ensures that you maintain a safe distance away from your brother just in case he decides to kill you. "Don't get your panties in a twist."

Vegeta's nostrils flare, complemented with his entire body shaking with rage. "You scared me half to death." You expected a lecture, but he's not even raising his voice. You may have freaked him out more than you originally intended.

Your lips curve upwards. "That sounds like a you problem, big brother." Something is particularly satisfying about throwing his own words in his face.

"I suppose I deserved that." His features soften. "I'm just relieved that you're alright."

Raditz walks over to you, slinging an arm around your shoulders. "Well, what did I do to deserve that scare?" 

"Collateral damage Raditz. Call it a happy accident."

"Enough of the chit-chat. Now let's---" Vegeta cuts himself off as you all lookup. You can sense the Ginyu Force, and they're heading straight for you. You grab Raditz, pulling him into the homemade cave. The others were facing the Dragon Balls. There would've been no time for them to get up here as well. Your higher altitude could be used to your advantage since you'll have the element of surprise. 

It's a bit cramped, but when you created the cave. You never expected to share the space with a Saiyan of Raditz's size. He takes up more space than you and Vegeta combined. You both watch the Ginyu Force land in front of a trembling Gohan, a frozen Krillin, and an aloof Vegeta. You really hope the Genius Force doesn't do those god-awful poses. You've already been traumatized enough for the week.

You decide to keep a close eye on Captain Ginyu, who is currently exchanging pleasantries with your brother. Well, as pleasant as it can get for two beings who are about to murder each other in cold blood. Followed by murmurings from various members of the Ginyu Force and Recoome's delayed laughter. "Just hand over the Dragon Balls, Vegeta. No need to make this any harder than it has to be." Vegeta's posture remains stiff. It's clear your brother isn't going to budge. Their little group is going to have to pry that orb from his dead body. "Come on, Vegeta, be a sport. We already have five." He gestures to the spheres behind him. That means Frieza will have five. Can you really trust those neanderthals to hold onto their Dragon Balls? No, you were raised to trust no one's capabilities but your own, not even Vegeta's. 

Jeice looks around, his green eyes scanning around the area. "Where's that gorgeous sister of yours, Vegeta?"

Vegeta glares at the red man. "Even if my sister was here. I doubt she'd be interested, Jeice. I mean, she never has been." Oh, your brother knows all about your history with the mutant Brench-seijin. He's overly flirty, and you reject him. It was a vicious never-ending cycle. If Vegeta had no self-control, he would've murdered him years ago for even looking in your direction. In his eyes, Jeice is unworthy of a woman of your status.

"Well, with Raditz out of the picture, there's no chance for Saiyan offspring. So I figured I'd shoot my shot." You cringe. You're not sure which idea is more repulsive, a relationship with Jeice or procreating with Raditz.

"Even if you were the last man in the universe. My sister wouldn't so much as glance in your direction." Vegeta and Jeice continue going back and forth as an idea pops in your head. This may be your only opportunity to get your hands on a Dragon Ball. You're only chance to put a fork in Frieza's plans for immortality. 

You silently climb out of the cave, dropping to the ground. The others can unmistakably see you, but they make no expressions alerting the Ginyu Force of your presence. You grab the closest orb before promptly flying back to the cave. Call this your insurance policy for when Krillin and Vegeta ultimately screw up. You escaped that entirely undetected. Is the term elite just thrown around loosely in the Frieza Force? Because that's what you're starting to think.

You hand the Dragon Ball to Raditz, directing your gaze back outside. "Those scouters of yours can't detect Dragon Balls, can they?" It was a rhetorical question. Vegeta knows they don't have that type of technology yet. You know how your brother thinks, and this is a faulty plan on his part. "Then you lose!" Vegeta pivots, launching the ball at an alarming speed. It would be a fatal blow to the head if it hit someone. 

Burter takes off, chasing after the orb. He flips in the air, catching the ball with ease. You swear, Vegeta can be such a dumbass sometimes. He knows Burter rivals you in speed. He may even be a bit faster than you.  

You shake your head, turning to Raditz, lowering your voice to a whisper. "Here's the plan. When I formulate a distraction, you're going to take the Dragon Ball and get the hell out of here. And Raditz, go hide the damn thing, somewhere no one will find it." He grins from ear to ear, causing you to glare at him. You know how this moron thinks by now. "And do not hide it with that Earth woman. That will just get her killed."

"What if that's my intention?"

"I don't think little brother Kakarot would be very pleased with you, but it's your call." You stand in silence for a moment, your piercing gaze lingering on the Saiyan. "Though, I can assure you. If Frieza gets his hands on that Dragon Ball. I'll kill you. In the most graphic and painful way, I can imagine." He gulps nervously, rapidly shaking his head in understanding. To Raditz, you're the only life form that can still sound menacing while whispering. 

You revert your vision back to the little gathering outside. And as you assumed, Krillin lost his Dragon Ball as well. Ginyu decides to take Vegeta for himself, which doesn't go over well with his team. They're acting like a bunch of children. It's almost comical. "Fine." The Captain sighs. "I'll take the Dragon Balls back to Lord Frieza. You all can sort this out amongst yourselves." They chant Ginyu's name a few times. They kinda remind you of a cult.

The four lower members of the Ginyu force move to stand in a circle. "So the winner gets Vegeta. And for second place---" Guldo is cut off by Recoome.

"The rest. Make the two runts a set. Together they'll be more equal to Vegeta." Oh, that can't be going over well with your brother. The fact that Recoome would declare that those two are his equals must be sending his blood pressure through the roof. 

They begin playing rock paper scissors. This must be how they decide their battles. It's like a game to them. Every single match ends in a draw. At this rate, you could be stuck up here forever. 

You doze off until you hear Recoome cheering. The endless match must have finally ceased. "Ya! I get Vegeta!" Fate can be an amusing thing sometimes. Vegeta must be ecstatic, getting to show the moron just how much stronger he is than those pathetic runts. 

"Of course, I'm stuck with the runts." Guldo wines. He's the last creature who should be referring to anyone as a runt. You could squash that little freak like a bug.

Ginyu approaches the Dragon Balls, picking them up with his telekinesis. He counts them before snapping his head toward the dumbest member of the Ginyu Force. "Recoome! There's only four here!"

Recoome scratches the back of his neck, that classic confused look on his face. "I'm sorry, Captain Ginyu. I thought I counted five."

Jeice turns to his superior. "I told you we shouldn't have trusted him with counting the Dragon Balls."

The Captain takes a deep breath, attempting to keep his composure. "It doesn't matter. I'll search for the missing Dragon Ball. It's probably with Y/N anyway." He takes off, heading in the direction of Frieza's ship. Well, that takes out your major concern. The others are child's play compared to Ginyu.

You pay minimum attention to Guldo's battle with Krillin and Gohan. You're more focused on finding an opening for a distraction. You begin to notice significant holes in their fight. Guldo will be in one area and then magically appear in another, and he's not teleporting. If he was, you would've been able to track his movements. Could the rumors about that green freak be true? Can he really pause time? They must be. That's the only feasible explanation. So under the assumption that Guldo can stop time, the earthlings don't even stand a chance. No matter what they do, that four-eyed freak will always remain one step ahead of them. 

You do, however, pick up on something. Guldo appears to hold his breath before every skip in time. That must be a limitation in his abilities to pause time. So if those two can somehow prevent him from holding his breath, they should be able to best him. You know what, scratch that. Those two probably haven't picked up on his abnormal behaviors.

Though, the earthlings do appear to have the advantage at the moment. And the rest of the Ginyu Force won't let Guldo forget it. They're heckling him so loud that you can hear them clearly from all the way up here. Guldo's kinda like the Raditz of the group, just a lot less respected. 

Guldo tosses the pair up into the air as a strange yellow light surrounds them. He's claiming it's a paralysis attack. That doesn't sound good for the earthlings. 

Krillin and Gohan struggle almost as if they were trapped in invisible bindings. As far as you can tell, they're immobile. If Guldo felt the need to resort to such dire tactics, he must think that he can't take out the pair any other way. So when the earthling and the half-breed combine their strength, they're mightier than Guldo. That's quite impressive considering how weak they were back on Earth.

"Now I'm gonna show you what happens when you embarrass me in front of the boys." You clench your fists, your nails digging into your palms, as you watch Guldo intently. As much as you hate to admit it, you're going to need those two runts. So if Guldo were to kill them, it would be very unfavorable. He uses another mind trick to pull a tree from the ground, using the bottom end as a makeshift spear. He points the weapon at the pair, taunting them. He's gonna impale them with a fucking stick. What a pathetic way to go.

You do wonder why Vegeta hasn't intervened yet. He's never played by their rules before. So what's stopping him now? Your brother may simply believe that Gohan and Krillin deserve to die. For not adhering to his warning regarding the weakest link of the Ginyu Force. It's not below Vegeta to be that petty. You can't blame him though, those two fools have no sense of self-control.

The slimy green creature's obnoxious cackling invades your ears. Honestly, Guldo's just pissing you off more than he was before.

Amidst the chaos, you jump out of the cave, flying a bit to distance yourself from suspicion. You shoot a purple beam at Guldo, efficiently decapitating him. Raditz seems to have gotten the message since he checked out with the Dragon Ball sometime during the commotion. He better hide that thing somewhere safe because his life depends on it.

"Did you really think I'd let a creature as pathetic as Guldo kill anything with a drop of Saiyan blood!" Your voice booms causing all eyes to land on you. You place a hand on your chest, fixating your gaze on the Ginyu Force. "I'm hurt that you didn't include me in your little game."

"Oh, our apologies Y/N." Jeice's thick accent invades your ears. "We should have assumed. Wherever Vegeta is, you're always somewhere nearby."

You swear you can hear faint grumbling. You just can't quite locate the source. Your eyes scan over the ground until you discover the origin of the sound. Long story short, it was Guldo's severed head. So his species can survive decapitation, good to know. "Defeated by a damn Saiyan. And the weaker one at that." You could run circles around that little freak. If you went head to head, he wouldn't even be considered a challenge. Guldo's giving himself far too much credit.

Vegeta chuckles darkly. "Well, don't worry." He strides over to the talking head. "You won't have to deal with that shame for long." Vegeta finishes the job, eliminating that embarrassment of the group of supposed elite warriors. 

The three remaining members complain about Guldo's demise, but it's not for the reason you may think. They're more upset about the impact his absence will have on their ridiculous pose. You wish you could say you were surprised, but you've known those idiots far too long to believe anything else.

The half-breed and earthling walk over to you, identical expressions of gratitude apparent on their faces. "We owe you one, Y/N." You roll your eyes at Krillin. It was a simple business decision. And it was nothing more than that. 

Gohan nods in agreement. "Ya, thanks." You cringe at his gratitude. Why are they thanking you? You killed Guldo for your own selfish reasons.

"Your lives had nothing to do with it." Well, at least Krillin's. If Guldo did kill the half-breed, it would've been an embarrassment to your entire race in hell. "I needed a distraction. I saw an opportunity."

"She's right, so pull yourselves together. Your lives are incredibly insignificant to us." Vegeta's lying. Your brother knows you need them. He's just far too prideful to admit it.

Burter turns to Jeice, morphing his hands to prepare for another excruciating match of rock paper scissors. "Alright, Jeice. Winner gets the Princess, and the loser gets stuck with the two runts."

Jeice shakes his head. "No, Y/N's all yours." He turns to you, his green eyes meeting your own. "I could never lay a hand on a lady as fine as the Princess." You suppress a gag, deciding to keep your mouth shut. If you were to respond, there's a good chance you could end up fighting both of them.

Burter furrows his brows at his comrade. "Are you sure?"

"Ya, go crazy, Burter." It's actually a reasonable match-up. You and Burter both have incredible speed. I guess you'll finally find out who's faster.

Now with Guldo out of the picture, it's Recoome's turn to fight Vegeta. He reminds you a bit of Nappa. Since he lacks any form of self-control. His punches at your brother are erratic. He even almost hits you, Krillin, and Gohan several times. If Recoome were to hit Krillin with that kind of force, there's no doubt in your mind that it would be a fatal blow.

"Don't go killin them all yourself!" Jeice is second in command to Ginyu, so his authority over Recoome makes sense. "I get the two runts, and Burter get's the Princess of the monkeys." One minute Jeice is flirting with you. The next, he's demeaning you. Talk about mixed signals.

You watch Recoome and Vegeta trade punches, and it's starting to lack any value of entertainment. Vegeta's covered in blood while Recoome's armor is chipped, and he's now missing tufts of hair.

You begin to grow impatient. This will be the first time you've been challenged in a while. "Yo, Burter! Let's just get this over with now. We'll make this battle a double feature." 

"Fine with me." The two of you distance yourselves from Recoome and Vegeta, commencing your battle as well.

Their gazes flicker back and forth between both battles. They were so enthralled in the action that neither Gohan nor Krillin noticed that Raditz had joined them. 

Gohan and Krillin stick to the sidelines. They're in no hurry to fight Jeice. Even though he's significantly smaller than Recoome and Burter, Krillin doesn't think Jeice's smaller size will give them any sort of advantage. 

"Raditz?" Jeice looks far from pleased. He's always been jealous of the Saiyan. Not for his strength, rather the envy stems from Raditz's luscious mane of hair. It took Jeice several years to grow his hair to an adequate length, while that fool was born with that full head of hair. Raditz meets his gaze, an arrogant smirk overtaking his features. As he waves at the green-eyed man mockingly. "But--- Y/N said you ran off!"

Mid-battle, you turn to Jeice. Without even looking, you still manage to keep up with Burter. "I'm a compulsive liar, Jeice! It's a nasty habit."

Jeice huffs, crossing his arms at the largest Saiyan. "Raditz is mine. I'm throwing him in with the two runts." A chuckle escapes your lips. He's underestimating what the three of them could accomplish together. Jeice is letting his own petty feelings cloud his judgment. How arrogant.

Krillin's brows furrow as his eyes linger on you. There's something that isn't quite adding up. He turns to Raditz and Gohan, lowering his voice to a whisper. "Hey, guys. I've been thinking about something. Remember back on Earth how Vegeta said that Saiyans get stronger after battle. Well, Vegeta's gotten stronger after several fights, but do you see Y/N? She's still able to effortlessly keep up. Even though she's barely lifted a finger. How is that possible?" The earthling's eyes widen as the gears begin to shift in his head. "Unless. Is she stronger---"

Raditz's hand covers Krillin's mouth, lowering his voice to a deadly whisper. "Silence, you earthling. Keep that big mouth of yours shut."

Krillin's teeth sink into his captor's hand, successfully freeing himself from the Saiyan's clutches. Several muffled phrases of obscenity escape Raditz's lips as he rapidly shakes his hand in an attempt to soothe the pain. "She is. Isn't she?" The look on Raditz's face told Krillin all he needed to know. "But you knew that already, and I bet you know why too. I wonder how Vegeta would feel about this?" His last sentence was clearly a passive-aggressive threat toward both you and Raditz. The earthling wouldn't be dumb enough to follow through with that threat, would he?

Raditz scowls at Krillin. How dare this pathetic little weasel attempt to threaten him. "Not a word to Vegeta. If you value your life. I'd stop talking now. Vegeta doesn't know, and it would be very unfavorable if he found out, for all of us." His tone shifts, his eyes flashing with vulnerability. "Something bad happened to us as children, and Vegeta still doesn't know about it." He returns to his menacing demeanor, your shared childhood trauma getting pushed to the back of his mind becoming yet again a distant memory. "So you will stop your absurd thoughts now. Or I can assure you. The second you resurrect your feeble friends, I will single-handedly slaughter them, and then you will follow." Krillin gulps, nodding in fear. He better pray Vegeta heard none of their conversations because he has a feeling Raditz will stick to his word.

Raditz thinks he knows all your secrets, but he's only aware of the tip of the iceberg. Below the surface lies pain and suffering the older Saiyan could never imagine from you. You keep these secrets to protect him, to protect Vegeta, and most importantly, to protect yourself. But if either of them were to find out the truth, your life as you know it would come crashing down. If they were to find out your greatest shame, your pride would be in shambles, and they would know the truth. You're just a weak Saiyan who's an embarrassment to her family name.

You're not exactly sure how much time has passed. You've completely blocked out the entirety of your surroundings, remaining focused on your battle with Burter. You can't joke around as you did back on Earth. There's no room for error today.

The two of you take turns beating the absolute hell out of each other. If you keep this up, there will be no end to this anytime soon. You shriek, spiking up your energy substantially. Burter's eyes bug out as his scouter explodes. Those pieces of junk are really no match to this energy-sensing technique. 

Even though you've blocked out your surroundings, you know the two of you have moved a significant distance away from the others. You could even be on the other side of the planet by now. In the back of your mind, you can't help but worry about your brother especially, now that you're so far away. Recoome may be an idiot, but he's a strong one. You have to remain focused. You can't help Vegeta if you don't help yourself first.

You begin to get the edge over Burter. Now he's attempting to block your attacks, but due to his large size, he's failing horribly. A couple more blows, and you'll finally be able to knock him down. You've taken down guys much larger than Burter, creatures who were triple his size. 

Over the years, you've learned to use your smaller size to your advantage. Making your opponent's sheer size more of a nuisance than a strength. Burter begins to struggle further. He's now barely able to keep up with you. "I'm the fastest being in the universe! How can one of you monkeys be faster than me?" You scowl at him, finding no humor in his statement as rage boils inside of you. 

Unknown to you, you and Burter aren't alone. Goku has been watching your battle in awe for quite some time now. He knows he should've left to find the others, but he just couldn't help it. He can't take his eyes off of you. This is the first time he's seen you fight, and you're much stronger than the Earthbound Saiyan believed.

Your fists clench as your entire body convulses in rage. It's not often you'll lose your temper like this. Goku swears that he saw your irises flash a shade of red. He rubs his eyes, glancing back at you. Your eyes have returned to normal. Maybe Goku is just seeing things. If you knew someone was watching, you would've kept your temper in check. 

Burter sends a blast of your energy your way. Which you dodge by teleporting behind him. You use all of your body weight to knock him down to the ground. You won't mock him like you typically do after defeating a foe. You won't take the chance of giving him an opening to strike back. In the palm of your hand, you create an orb of energy, disintegrating his head. Successfully, taking out your second member of the great Ginyu Force.

You fall to your knees, desperately gasping for air, before grabbing your side, wincing in excruciating pain. Damn, Burter must have nicked you good. You look to your side, noticing just how much blood has leaked through your armor. This is gonna be an issue, though you've fought through worse. You stand back up to check your body for any further damage. There seems to be no other physical damage to your form. Your armor is a bit ripped, though. 

"Wow! You're really strong." You gasp, moving your fist, aiming it at whoever is in front of you. They swiftly catch your fist, preventing you from attacking. Their grip is secure enough to stop you from escaping, yet at the same time pleasantly gentle.

You move your gaze upwards, finally gathering the courage to look them in the eye. Your brows furrow as Goku's dumb face enters your field of vision. "God, Kakarot! When the hell did you get here?" You shake yourself out of his grasp, taking a few steps back, putting some distance between you two.

"A while ago." He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. "I got distracted by your fight." So he was observing you the whole time. Why does that make you feel incredibly self-conscious?

"Of course you did." You sigh, moving several strands of hair out of your face. Goku steps closer to you, bringing his hand to meet your forehead. It's so big that it takes up the entirety of your forehead and even the top of your head. "Kakarot. What the hell are you doing?"

"Just be quiet for a second." It's official. Goku has lost what was left of his mind. "So it is true. You guys are working together. And that Frieza guy is a much bigger deal than I thought." How does he know about all of that? And why is he still touching you?

You slap his arm, convincing him to remove his hand. "And why's that?"

"Because you're afraid of him."

Your face flushes. "I'm not scared of Frieza. I'm not afraid of anything." Your cross your arm, averting his gaze.

"Yes, you are." He pouts. "I saw it." Kakarot saw it? How the hell--- Did Kakarot acquire the ability to read thoughts? Is that even possible?

You decide to divert his mind from his accusations. Knowing Kakaort, that shouldn't be hard at all. "Since when can you read minds?"

He rubs his chin, lost deep in thought. "I don't know--- I just had a feeling."

"Well, let's go. And new rule." You bring your hand up, pointing your index finger at the buffoon. "Stay out of my thoughts!"

He holds up his hands in surrender, nodding. "Are we gonna go find that Captain Ginyu guy?"

"No. We have to go make sure that Recoome and Jeice haven't killed the others first. Don't bite off more than you can chew." Goku has this aura around him. You can tell he's gotten stronger. He just needs to learn how to get his priorities in order.

Okay. All you have to do is pin down someone's energy. There are at least four sources to choose from, so this should be fairly simple. You shut your eyes. This should help you concentrate adequately. 

"Ohh, what's that?"

Your head snaps toward Goku. "What?" You swear the man has an attention span equivalent of an insect.

He bends down, observing the ground intently. "It's like a green string."

"A green--- Kakarot! Don't!" But you were too late. He's already yanked the tripwire.

The ground concaves beneath you, causing you to lose your footing as the two of you fall down into the pit. You fall on top of Goku. Unintentionally straddling the Saiyan. And if you thought this situation couldn't get any more awkward, you'd be wrong. Goku's arms are wrapped securely around your waist, holding you in place. Your heart feels like it's beating out of your chest. And your face feels like it's been set aflame. As your eyes lock, your face only turns a deeper shade of crimson. "D-Don't touch me!" You're stuttering. What the hell is happening to you?

His brows furrow. "You're the one who fell on top of me!"

"It's not my fault." His classic pout spreads across his lips. "How was I supposed to know that the ground would collapse?" 

"W-Well, you're the reason we're in this mess!" You stand up, wanting to get as far away from Goku as possible. You don't like the way you feel around him. The only time your pulse should be racing like this is during combat.

"Well, it wouldn't be called a trap if you could see it!"

"I don't get why you're so mad. Can't we just fly out?"

You snicker as your lips curve upward. "Give it a shot, Kakarot." You know it won't work, but at least his failures will provide you with some quality entertainment. It would be a pretty pathetic trap if you could simply fly out. Goku flies up, slamming his head on the invisible barrier. You break out into a fit of laughter as he falls back down. Goku jumps back up, rubbing the back of his head. "Ouch. Did you know that would happen?" Your giggling dies down as Goku begins looking around the hole. "How did this place even get here? Is this Frieza's work?"

"No. It's definitely the work of the Namekians. Frieza wouldn't be able to formulate something so elaborate in the amount of time he's had. Besides that dictator never does any of his own dirty work."

"Well, let's just sit back and relax. I'm sure we'll be fine. Someone will have to find us eventually." He has such a laid-back attitude. Maybe another alien baby crash-landed on Earth. Because with every second that passes, you're finding it harder to believe that Goku has Saiyan ancestry. 

"Oh, ya, let's just relax." You mock him. "While the others are probably getting chopped up into little pieces by the remnants of the Ginyu Force as we speak!"

"Why are you always so negative?" Is he serious? Do you have to spell out why this is potentially a very dire situation? You'd think he would show more concern for his son.

Your hands meet the sides of your head. You're practically yanking your hair out at this point. To say you're frustrated would be an understatement. "God, why am I constantly getting trapped in enclosed spaces with your idiotic bloodline! First, it was your spawn, then it was your moronic brother, and now I'm stuck with you. And you're somehow the worst of them all!" Goku just stands in front of you like a statue with that goofy smile plastered on his face. "And stop smiling when I yell at you!" 

Being stuck down here with Kakarot will be the ultimate test of your willpower----

-

Will the others make it to Y/N and Goku in time? Or will Y/N kill Goku before they even get the chance? Find out in the next chapter of The Princess of All Saiyans!

[waking-dreams-of-harmony]

The Last Dragon

Below the read more I've posted 7 very small sections of a fic that is based on this beautiful and tragic fanvid. I got literal chills watching it. If you wanna sob over our queen and her son wanting to avenge his mother, give it a watch.

I don't think I'll ever go any further, as my writing had an unfortunate run in with a brick wall, which then toppled over it and crushed any urge to write the next bit.

It's not too terrible--though it could actually be total shit, I'm not known for my writing 😂--and it was just gonna gather dust on my laptop, so figured I might as well post it. This was one of my ways of dealing with that fucked up last season within the framework of the show. I dont believe this is Dany's end, and I loathe with every fiber of my being what happened to her and her found family. And after seeing that video, the idea of Drogon doing everything he could to avenge the mother he loved more than anything appealed to that anger inside me. So I'll understand if this isnt for everyone ❤

Chapter 1

Mother.

He flies, great black wings carrying them away.

Mother.

Sharp, massive claws curl in gently. Protectively.

Mother is gone.

The cold creeps, burning against his scales the way fire never has.

Mother don’t leave.

A whisper on the wind calls to him.

Mother it hurts.

East, it sighs. It smells of smoke, and fire. Hope.

He follows, wings beating faster.

They took you.

The rage flares, searing away the cold.

They killed you.

The heat of it bursts within him, scaled skin shaking with the strength of it.

Fire and blood.

Jaws stretch wide, and the air burns red with grief.

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Chapter 2

The sky bleeds red from the dying sun when Drogon reaches Volantis. The whisper that drew him there stops as he lands on an open balcony.

A woman stands before him, black hair and red robes flying up in the gust of wind from his wings. His claw gently opens, Mother’s cold body slowly sliding onto the hard stone.

Crimson, mournful eyes watch the red woman kneel by Mother, pale fingers hovering over her, not touching, for a long moment.

“I cannot bring her back, Drogon,” she murmurs, regretful.

He throws his head back, bellows fury and sadness into the sky. No, Mother, come back. I am alone.

A faint brush at the back of his mind--where Mother used to be, his brothers, the thoughts they shared together--grasps his attention. Makes him look back down at the red woman.

“I cannot give you back Daenerys Targaryen, but I can give you something else.”

His nostrils flair, and his head moves closer.

“I can give you the revenge you desire. As it stands, you may be able to raze the whole of the Seven Kingdoms, turn it all to ash, but that would not be what your mother wanted.”

Drogon growls, lips pulled up in a snarl. Sheep. All are sheep. Betrayed Mother. Killed Mother. No mercy.

She nods her head. Comprehends what he is unable to say out loud.

“Yes, they all betrayed Daenerys, took from her and killed her when her visions grew too great for their small minds. They could not grasp that the Mother of Dragons was above all a breaker of chains. She would have freed us all.”

She pauses, then continues, her voice hard. “They need to be punished. And they will be. But Daenerys’ dreams must be realized. Dragon’s Bay must remain free. The Dothraki cannot return to what they were, raping and pillaging. And the petty lords of Westeros must be laid low. Those who destroyed Daenerys must see their reigns come to an end not only by dragon fire, but by the unification of the people they have ground into the dust, unified against them.”

“A dragon has the power to do great things, but to lead men, to lead armies, that is the one thing you cannot do, Drogon. Not as you are. You must be more. And by the Lord of Light’s grace, you can become exactly what the people need.”

Drogon rumbles in frustration, steam billowing from between his sharp, clenched teeth. He doesn’t understand.

“Human, Drogon. You must become human.”

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Chapter 3

They take Mother, to clean her, he is told. Remove the dagger, her clothes. Wash the blood away.

The red woman directs him to fly from the balcony, down into an open courtyard below. A large fire pit rages with a towering flame. It warms him, feels like Mother’s hand caressing his scales.

Dragons cannot cry. A mournful moan makes his great neck tremble. Human. Perhaps he can cry when he is human.

People in red robes enter the courtyard, one after another, until they circle around Drogon. His tail twitches. Their closeness agitates him.

The red woman appears, crossing the circle to stand in front of the fire. Hatred fills him when he sees what is in her hands. The dagger stained with Mother’s blood. Coward. The coward’s dagger.

“I am sorry Drogon. It is a necessary piece of the ritual. Soon,” she soothes, “you will have all you need to begin your campaign against the traitors.”

Another voice brushes against that same place in his mind. That lonely place where Mother, Rhaegal, and Viserion once lived. Soon, it too promises.

The red woman turns her head, scans the other acolytes before catching Drogon’s eyes.

“Let us begin.”

Voices hum together in chant, and the sky is filled with an agonized roar.

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Chapter 4

Drogon.

He groans.

Drogon, my love.

Everything hurts.

You cannot sleep forever, my beautiful boy.

He moves his head slightly. Cringes at the sharp pain.

Wake up, Drogon.

Mother? Why does everything hurt so much?

It’s time.

The voice begins to fade. He reaches out a hand, slowly, to make it stay, and freezes. He has a hand. A human hand.

Fingers curl into his palm, and the nails scratch against his skin, bite into it. His legs scrape against the stone as he slowly stretches out one, then the other.

He can still feel the fire to the side of him; it feels heavier, pressing on his skin but it does not hurt his flesh.

What burns more painfully is the missing weight of his wings. No flight for him now.

Cold fingers brush his shoulder, curve sharply to hold him when he recoils.

“Drogon?”

He doesn’t like to be held, or touched, no one but Mother, and his brothers, but they are gone. Gone, gone, gone…

“Drogon! It is only me, Kinvara!” The voice finally penetrates, and he stops pulling away.

Allowing for her help, he rolls carefully onto his back. Sharp pebbles dig into his skin. No scales to protect him anymore.

He feels her fingers move to his face, tracing the human features. “Open your eyes Drogon. See what the Lord of Light has gifted to you.”

Gift? No gift. Just more pain. Weakness. But he opens his eyes. The fire from the pit is soothing, warm. Warmer than...before. Would it burn him? His hand flinches towards it but he’s not close enough to touch.

He turns his eyes toward Kinvara. She is smiling, eyes reflecting the fire’s light.

She waves a hand towards an acolyte. “Bring me a robe. We must cover our dragon prince.”

Red cloth is laid over him, and two other acolytes help Drogon to sit. They hold him up as the other wraps the robe around him more securely.

Drogon grits his teeth, blood rushing angry and hot.

He tries to talk, mouth struggling to form the human words. “W-We—” He growls, tries again. “W-Weak.”

“For now,” she says. “But you will grow stronger, I promise you.”

Drogon struggles to stay awake, but bone deep exhaustion pulls at him, and his frustration wanes as he slips into slumber.

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Chapter 5

Four moons pass before Drogon is ready to set sail for Meereen. He was like a hatchling again, unsteady, vulnerable, and he hated it. Kinvara and her priests taught him the ways of his new body, how to eat and walk, to read their words.

Coarse fabric to wear instead of steely scales.

But now it is time. Time to search out Grey Worm. Daario. The Unsullied and Dothraki. Train with them and become stronger. Much stronger.

He knew how to fight as a dragon. Armies and castles were nothing against the heat of his fire. He must learn how to wage war as humans do.

Wrapped in a red cloak, hood hanging low over his face, Drogon is ready to begin.

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Chapter 6

They are waiting for him at the dock after the sun has set, Grey Worm and Mother’s sellsword, two silent figures who do not move, do not speak until Drogon stands before them.

Daario breaks the silence first. “Drogon?”

He pulls back his hood, unnaturally crimson eyes in a human face flashing in the near dark.

Daario sucks in a breath, then huffs out a laugh. “If the red priests had not sent word ahead, I may not have believed it. But by the gods, here you stand.” He reaches out an arm for Drogon to clasp.

He does so, hesitantly, but with a firm grip. Human greetings still puzzle him.

Grey Worm steps closer then kneels, bows his head bowed, fist pressed against his chest. “Ñuha dārilaros. Bisy qringaomatan īlva dāria. Īlon emagon ossēntan se nāpāstre skoriot pōnta iōrtan (My prince. This one failed our Queen. We should have killed the traitors where they stood.).”

Drogon does not know if he is asking for forgiveness or absolution.

Dragons have no real concept of forgiveness. He should be angry the traitors were allowed to live. But Grey Worm is kin, as the little scribe had been. Mother’s old bear too, and the white-haired knight. Everyone who had been under Mother’s protection, had been under her children’s protection as well. And would continue to be.

“Rise, Grey Worm.” His voice is rough and sharp edged, and it seems to startle the two men to hear him speak. “Those that hurt Mother, that used her and took her life will be punished as they deserve. But I need your help. So rise. Let us repay them with fire and blood. For Mother. For Missandei. For them all.”

He holds out a hand, waits.

Grey Worm looks up, eyes bright with unshed tears. His lips tremble, then firm. He takes Drogon’s hand.

▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪

Chapter 7

They convene in Mother’s chambers, the map room he would never have been able to fit in before almost cavernous to him now.

Spread out around the table, the three men pull together a plan as they look down at the map.

First, they will weed out the opposition in Essos, solidify their hold in the east. Astapor, Yunkai, they will all come to heel, every slave freed. They would be as clever as Mother had been, keep the number of innocents lost as low as they could. Drogon would prefer to burn through the Good Masters, snap them up and tear them apart, but for Mother, he would be patient, and take the slower path. All the slavers would still die, and their victims would live, and live free.

But for what Drogon had planned, he needed steel in place of claws, armor instead of dragonhide. He needed Grey Worm and Daario to make him as fearsome as a human as he’d been as a dragon. And that would take time.

He ground his blunted teeth together; he hated waiting. Hated it. But let the traitors think they were safe for a while longer. It would be all the sweeter when he ripped that feeling of safety away, just as they ripped Mother away from him. His brothers. His home.

They would feel his pain. And then they would feel nothing at all.

[liv-andletdie]

I'm STARVED for fluffy tp zelink about them just genuinely in love and happy help pls

You would not believe how excited I was to start work on this! The biggest issue I came across was trying to choose what fluffy thing to write about. So I’m gonna do more than one! I’m gonna be writing more than one cute story (because there isn’t enough TP Zelink let’s be real) the first one is gonna be posted here on Tumblr and the rest will be found at Ao3

Ao3 link [x] 

Ordon was a hamlet that lived in almost total isolation. The small village was nestled deep in the forest to the south of Hyrule, hidden by dense green trees and separated by steep cliffs, the only way in was over a rickety old wooden bridge. As such very little news came in or out of the small community, the goings on of the world outside were a mystery to the people who lived there.

However sometimes rumors would find their way through the trees, carried on distant winds and the backs of traveling merchants. These rumors were often wild and unbelievable, made up tales of lords and ladies running away into the forests, sons betraying fathers, and mothers selling their daughters. While these stories made for great entertainment around the fire, they were hardly realistic. Stories blown out of proportion for the drama of it all, each person who passed it on added some daring and dangerous tale.

Some rumors were more believable than others, coming direct from Castle Town to the north and avoiding the hands of the meddlesome story tellers. They told of the King and his family, two noble and talented children. Stories of the son where rare, he was hardly seen amongst the people preferring to keep himself indoors and to his study. Stories of his sister however were a popular favourite among the men and women of the country.

They would tell of her incredible beauty, her caring heart, and her musical voice. Some said that she was a Goddess reborn, that no mortal creature could be as lovely as her.

These stories were some of the least believable to the young goatherd of Ordon.

The idea of a goddess walking amongst mortals was poetry, it wasn’t possible. Link dismissed these descriptions of the fair princess as an over romanticised fantasy. Some infatuated Bards attempt to win her favour, to see one of her so called “enchanting smiles”. Link had no doubt that the Princess was beautiful, however he found it hard to believe that anyone could be as beautiful as a deity.

That was until he finally met her.

—

The war was over, the twili returned to their realm, Midna returned to her throne. The great evil that had plagued Hyrule was gone, eradicated by the sacred blade, and she was at peace.

Zelda stood at the edge of her balcony, eyes tracing over the lights of the city below. The sounds of celebration rang through the cold night air as the people rejoiced. Evil was gone, the Goddesses had prevailed. The sounds of music and singing eased the pain in her heart, her people were safe. They were happy. She could rest.

Or at least try to.

Her castle was in ruins, her city demolished. Her people had suffered a great tragedy that one night of suffering could not ease. In the morning they would want answers, how did this happen? Who was to blame? Who saved us? The malicious rumors that would be spread in the aftermath caused a panic in her chest that dulled her good mood, as her people’s chants of victory turned into the cries of war, and their lanterns to flaming torches.

Will they call for my head? She wondered, gripping the stone railing with ruined gloves. Will they demand my blood as payment for theirs? It frightened her, the uncertainty of not knowing. She prayed for Midna’s confidence, the Twilight Queen had become a close friend during their months of battle. If only she were here with me now.

Midna had shattered the Mirror. She wasn’t coming back.

Zelda supposed that it was for the best. The Twili had suffered also, it would be better to keep the two worlds apart as they healed. And better to avoid any future calamities that may befall them.

Still the young Princess missed her friend.

A soft knock on the door behind her pulled her from her thoughts. The sounds of celebrations lost to her. The Princess stood taller, scolding herself for letting her thoughts get away from her

“Come in” she commanded, eyes still cast towards the stars. Thankfully her voice sounded stronger than she felt. The slide of old metal hinges rang in her ears, followed by soft unfamiliar footsteps. She listened as they got closer, stopping three steps behind her.

“Sorry for the interruption your Highness” a voice behind her spoke, it was soft and warm. The accent sounded Southern, nothing like she had ever heard before. Cautiously Zelda turned her head towards the voice.

He stood behind her, the man who held the Master Sword.

When she had seen him last he had been covered head to toe in desert dust, mud, and blood. His face set in a determined scowl. His blue eyes had been wild and clear, focusing on everything and nothing. He’d scared her. The proud wolf still visible in his hylian features.

But as he stood behind her, face free of the dust and grime from his battles, she was struck by how kind he looked.

“It’s quite alright” she said, her voice softer under his gentle gaze. “Was there anything I could do to help you?”

In the dim light from the moon she saw him shift on his feet. The tips of his long ears seemed to pinken, his dazzling blue eyes shifting to the ground. He cleared his throat, more out of habit than necessity. She was caught for a moment, tracing the shape of his cheekbones with her eyes. He’s left that ridiculous hat behind she noted unaware of why that made her smile slightly.

“No there’s… ahh.. There’s nothing. I just wanted to see if you were okay” 

Her heart skipped a beat in her chest. She felt breathless under his kind eyes, helpless and vulnerable. She stood before him, scarred and bruised. Her Royal Regalia was tarnished, her gown stained and torn. Her hair a mess and her exhaustion clear in her eyes.

And yet he looked at her without pity, malice, or contempt.

The warmth in his eyes made her forget, for a moment, the fear that had gripped her heart. The panic and the pain for her people lessened slightly and even her golden pauldrons felt lighter on her shoulders.

“I am okay” she said, surprised that she meant it. “How are you, Hero?”

He was blushing now, slight embarrassment clear as the red on his cheeks. He rubbed the back of his neck obviously flustered. He opened his mouth to say something, struggling to find the words.

“I’ll be okay but… nevermind” He backed away, feet shuffling against the dusty stones on the balcony. His face twisted into a mix of embarrassment and pain

“What is it?” she asked, instantly concerned. Such an expression seemed out of place on his youthful fac

“… It’s nothing”“Hero-”“Link”

She paused, trying and failing to keep the confused expression from her features. He looked ashamed, taking a step back, as if terrified that he had spoken out of turn. Terrified that she would have him cast from her sight, that he had angered royalty 

“Pardon?” “M-my name… it’s Link” he kept his gaze lowered, hands clasped behind his back as he traced patterns in the dust with the toe of his boot. Zelda took him in, the way the moonlight reflected off of his dirty blonde hair, the small blue earrings that hung from his pointed lobes, the sharp wolflike lines of his features.

“Link” she tested the sound in her mouth, finding that she enjoyed the way the syllables rolled off of her tongue. “Well, it’s a pleasure to formally meet you. Link” She raised a petite hand, cringing at the grime the stained the silk.

He took her hand in his, relief shining in his eyes. His hand felt gentle against hers, the rough skin of his fingertips caressing her knuckles through her glove.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you. Princess Zelda”

—

Months passed, and the city was torn down and built from the ground up.

People found their peace, they rebuilt their businesses and homes. Families and friends came together, communities became close. The dead were mourned, their memories preserved. Mothers cradled their children and sang them lullabies, husbands and wives were reunited. The sun rose and they began again.

In Link, Zelda found a friend. Someone she could confide in.

The two grew closer, bonding over the knowledge and experiences shared during those harrowing months. Every night they would meet on that balcony overlooking the city. Together they watched it heal and grow and flourish. They watched the people get stronger and the sadness leave the soil.

Their conversations began to change. Topics moving from that of growth and rebuilding. Link told her about Ordon, the goats, the trees, the cliffs. The isolated nature that had kept them in safety for as long as he could remember. “A paradise in the middle of nowhere” he called it. Zelda had smiled, she’s said it sounded beautiful and Link had promised to take her one day.

He told her about the stories that would pass into Ordon, stories of Lords running away with scullery maids, highway women luring men into the woods only to rob them blind, and children becoming heroes. In return she told him about the stories she’d hear in Castle Town.

They spent their nights telling each other stories, and when they ran out they made up their own. She would tell him old legends of the Goddesses and Heroes before him, stories of heavenly birds and people so small they were practically invisible.

Link would always leave before the sun rose, the two never straying past the realm of propriety. Hands would stay by their sides or rest on the stone railings. Eyes never lingered for longer than necessary. And every farewell was punctuated by a bow and they returned to their beds to sleep alone.

Their closeness did not go unnoticed.

Rumors began to spread around Castle Town of the Hero and Princess. Tales of debauchery and seduction, coloured with tragic forbidden love. Zelda would laugh it off, denying everything.

“Link is very dear to me” she’d say, her hand pressed over her heart “but our relationship is nothing like that”

They gossips would laugh along, pretending that they believed her. And then when her back was turned they would gossip again. Create stories from nothing, Stories blown out of proportion for the drama of it all, each person who passed it on added some daring and dangerous tale.

—

One night, when the moon was full and the air was warm, Link found Zelda on the Balcony.

It had been over a year since the Invasion had ended. It was now nothing but a dark stain in Hyrule’s proud history. Life had continued for the citizens and the country was flourishing.

And yet she still wept.

He’d found her like this once before. Hunched over herself, leaning against the railings as her sobs racked her body. Tears flowing down her face, begging to the gods for forgiveness. Her hands had clawed at her sleeves, pulling and tearing the fabric there, punishing herself for her imagined failures. She had quietened when she noticed his presence, assuring him that it was nothing. He’d watched her closely that night, wondering how he could have helped her.

When he found her like that again, hunched and sobbing over the bright full moon, he didn’t hesitate.

Propriety had held him back before. The fear of overstepping his bounds and hurting her more, of ruining their friendship before it had formed. But now, watching her hurt, his heart ached.

He surged forward, taking her in his arms. She fought and struggled, pushing trying to add distance from the comfort she believed she didn’t deserve. But he held her fast, pressing her against his chest. Her tears came hot and fast, pouring down her cheeks and neck.

“Let me go” she cried her hands balling into fists, her nails digging into her palms. She fought and cried, hitting a drum beat against his chest. He let her, baring through every aching punch, knowing that the pain she was feeling was much much worse.

“I’m not going to let you go” he promised pressing her head into his shoulder. “I’m not going to let you go, I’m not going anywhere” Eventually all the fight left her, she collapsed into his arms. Broken, heart aching sobs echoing out into the quiet night air. He brought them down to sitting. He rested his back against the same stone railings. The Princess curled up into his lap.

They stayed that way, wrapped around each other, clinging to the last comfort they had. He stroked her hair, pulling it out of the way of her long elegant ears. She ran her hand over his chest, soothing the fresh bruises she had left, pressing apologies into his skin.

“I’m sorry” she whispered, burying her face into his neck “I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry”

You have nothing to be sorry for he wanted to say, hands tracing patterns over her shoulder blades and scalp. He tilted her head, pressing a gentle kiss to her crown, he felt one last, heart stopping sigh leave her, ghosting over his collar bone.

Absent mindedly he wondered what kind of rumors they would spread about the two of them now.

—

After that night they grew closer.

The walls had been broken between them. No longer would they stand, keeping their hands to themselves. They found solace in the feel of each other’s arms. Zelda leaned against him, her arms slung low on his waist, her chin resting on his shoulder as he lazily swayed them back and forth. Playing with the ends of her hair and drawing soothing circles over her spine.

“The people have been talking” she whispered, her breath hot against his ear.

“Oh yeah?” He asked, not stopping in his movements “what have they been saying?”

It was a running joke by now. The rumors had gotten so wild, so out of control, that it was almost hilarious. The stories they told about them were romanticized versions of someone else’s dreams. Zelda let out a sardonic laugh, leaning in closer as if to tell him a secret.

“They say that you and I are secretly married” She giggled, the sound was like music to his ears “and that I am pregnant with your second child” “Who has my first?” he asked pulling her closer, a wide smile on his face. “Just some women you met at Lake Hylia. She fell in love with you instantly and after a night of passion you disappeared”

Link couldn’t help the laugh that followed. The idea of himself being some heartbreaker, going around the country seducing women, was far too funny to him.

“If you’re pregnant” he questioned, nuzzling closer into the crook of her neck “then how come you ain’t getting any of those weird cravings?” “Oh but didn’t you hear?” she teased, her laughter clear in her voice “I have, I’ve just been getting someone to sneak me food so no one knows”

The two fell apart then, laughing freely and joyously. Tears brimming at the edges of their eyes. They held each other until their laughs subsided, panting and catching their breaths.

“Honestly” she breathed, pulling back to look her friend in the eye. “Can you believe that?”

He shook his head, laughter threatening to rise up once more. “I don’t know what’s more unbelievable” he chuckled “The idea of me getting you pregnant, or the idea of someone falling in love with me at first sight” His laughter returned, filling the space with a joyful sound.

Yet something was off.

His laughter died when he realized that the Princess in his arms had grown silent.

Tilting his head to look up at her, he saw that she was lost in thought. Her lip being teased between her teeth as she counted the stars in the sky.

“Zelda?” he questioned, trying to bring her back to reality “Rupee for your thoughts?”

Zelda looked back at him, her face blank as she focused on where she was. Her eyes swimming with emotions he didn’t dare name.

“Pardon? Oh nothing. It’s nothing I’m alright” She promised bringing her hands up to rest on his shoulders, squeezing them slightly. I just don’t think someone falling in love with you is that farfetched she thought to herself, trying to ignore the questioning way he was looking at her.

“It’s late” she said turning away from him “We should probably get some rest now”

Link reluctantly let go of her, fighting back a shiver at the loss of warmth. He watched as she walked away, trying to convince himself that it wasn’t love he saw in her eyes.

—

Of all the places in the castle, Link found that the garden was his favourite. 

It was in the gardens that he found her, bathed in sunlight and surrounded by flowers. She lay spread out against the lush green grass, the mid morning sun setting her hair aflame. The cool night air had not yet left them and the tips of her ears and nose had turned pink. Her eyes were closed to the rising sun as she breathed deeply and calmly. Utterly relaxed.

Link stood before her, having ventured out for a morning walk. She was completely unaware of his presence as he stepped closer. He debated calling out to her, rousing her from her relaxation. But he found that the words would not come. She very rarely found peace, he didn’t want to take it from her.

Taking a step back, he stole one last glance at her relaxed face. The sound of his footsteps against the gravel path caused the Princess to stir. Opening her crystal blue eyes, turning her gaze to take in his shape, silhouetted against the sun.

“Good morrow” she greeted, her voice rough from sleep. Link smiled back, bowing at the waist as was proper. “Good mornin” He replied, watching as a matching smile broke out on his Princess’s face. Her eyes sparkling like jewels in the sunlight. “You having a nap there?” his question caused her to giggle, a pink blush spreading over her cheeks. 

“I was resting my eyes” she defended, moving a hand to block the rising sun from her eyes. “I was up late last night”

A guilty chuckle bubbled up from his throat. It was his fault, he knew. Their conversation had lasted long into the night, telling jokes, sharing stories. She’d told him the legends of the heroes as she often did, embellishing and accentuating the tales as the merchants did. She made their quests sound so heroic, their feats so magical. He’d listened as her musical voice spoke once more of the incredible winged beasts that once lived side by side with them.

“Sorry” He said, hardly apologetic. He watched as she stretched out on the grass, curling and uncurling her hands, a soft sound leaving her throat as her back arched upwards. He felt his mouth go dry at the sight, turning his head to the flowerbeds beside him.

“You should be” she teased, “It is because of you that I am reduced to lying in a flower bed for rest” Her face broke out in a joyful grin “still a bed is a bed I suppose”

Link took a step forward, thumbs tucked into the hips of his belt. Her grin was infectious as he leaned over her, blotting the sun from her eyes.

“And is your new bed comfortable your Highness?” he asked, watching as she nodded her head, her long braids falling into the grass under her neck.

“Oh yes” she said, holding her hand out to take his. The grin turning from innocent to teasing, a mischievous light glinting in her eyes “come and see”  

This forwardness was new. He had seen her command armies, build cities, and issue proclamations, her authority and wisdom was unparalleled. And yet, in all the time he had known her he had never known her like this.

“They’ll talk” he warned, kneeling on the ground next to her, his hand reaching for hers. Her soft skin tracing the callouses on his palm.

“I don’t care, lie with me”

The words lit a fire in his heart. She must know what she’s doing to me He thought as he lowered himself to the ground next to her. His hand still grasped in hers.

She let out a contented sigh, shifting to lie closer to him on the soft grass. He turned his head to look at her, tracing the way the light shone against her pale skin. The long line of her neck, the sharp point of her dignified nose. The delicate tempting pout of her lips. Her eyes had closed again, relaxing as she let herself settle into the ground. Her grip loosened on his, the tips of her fingers grazed against the skin of his wrist 

Taking advantage of her loose hold on his hand, he slipped his arm out from between them. She let out a displeased noise at the loss of contact but he ignored it in favour of wrapping his arm around her shoulders, pulling her against his side. Her hand rested on his chest, her head on his shoulder.

“They’ll talk” she warned repeating his words from earlier. She pressed herself against him, leaving a light kiss on his collarbone.

“I don’t care” he traced his fingers along her spine. She squirmed a little, his touch tickling her slightly. He noticed this, moving his free hand to her side and poking her lightly there. Her laughs rang clear through the quiet garden as the morning sun rose higher in the sky.

—

“How long has it been?” she asked one night while they watched the city below them. She was leaning over the edge of the balcony, her winter cloak draped over her shoulders. Link stood next to her, his own cloak pushed out of the way and his hands played with the ends of her hair.

By the Goddesses he loved her hair.

“How long has what been?” he asked, the silken strands slipping through his fingers. He pulled lightly, the braid going taunt beneath his grip. Zelda huffed and moved it out of his reach, earning her a small pout from Link. He contented himself with putting his hand on her lower back, his touch warm even through the thick fabric cloak.

“How long has it been since we started standing like this?” Her voice was distant, her eyes even more so. He leaned back to think, recounting every meeting they’d had. His mind travelled back to the first time they had stood together on the balcony like this. There had been a large distance between them. He had ached, even then, to hold her. He never acted on his urge until months later.

“Over a year now I think” he said taking one of her soft hands in his “why do you ask?” “I was just curious that’s all. I enjoy our closeness” She turned her head to face him, no smile adorned her lips but her eyes shone.

Link felt breathless. 

He had often gazed at her in the months they’d been friends. Taking in her good looks and spirited humour. But now, bathed in the same starlight as the first time they met, he found he was unable to look away.

She truly looked like a goddess. Her auburn hair dancing in the slight breeze, the light of the moon casting silver across her skin. Her eyes, a deep royal blue seemed to lock onto his, she didn’t say anything, letting him have his silence.

His eyes traced over her features. Following the regal curve of her brow down past enchanting eyes, down her pointed nose and over her high cheeks. A soft blush was blooming across her face, pink colouring the skin over the bridge of her nose. Small freckles from their time riding in the bright winter sun decorated her porcelain skin. He watched as her blush spread, moving towards her long elegant ears.

He had never seen ears like them.

Ordon was a Human village. It was small, and it rarely saw visitors. Link had been the only Hylian to live there. His ears had made him stand out, the adults had been weary of him at first. He didn’t look like them, he’d never grow up to be like them. Rusl had made him feel like a part of the village. But he’d never made him feel human.

But Zelda, she had. With every word she spoke she made him feel like he truly belonged. Every smile she gave him was like home in a way Ordon never was.

“Rupee for your thoughts” she asked, bringing his attention back to her face. Her eyes held a fire he couldn’t name. She was closer than she had ever been before 

“We hear a lot of rumors in Ordon” he said “mostly stupid ones, but sometimes… sometimes we hear things that hold a lot of truth you know” he held her hand tighter, resting his forehead against hers. “There was one that I could never make myself believe… But I know now I was wrong” he admitted, eyes dropping to her lips. He went quiet, feeling his heart racing in his chest.

“What was that rumor?” she asked pulling her hand from his to place it on his chest, her fingertips grazing softly against his collarbone.

“Zelda” He pulled her closer, his free hand moving to join its twin on her back. His eyes met hers, a silent question met with a silent answer.

Her blush deepened, pinks turning red. The ears he loved so much twitching upwards in surprise. Her hand moved up to hold the back of his neck, her fingers sliding into the soft hair there. Her other hand came up to rest on his forearm, feeling the muscles tense under her touch.

They had been close before, but never like this. Never touching as they were now, pressed against each other from head to toe, basking in their shared warmth. It was intoxicating, they agreed, the feel of their heartbeats thumping in time to an unheard song. The feel of their hands clinging tightly as if terrified to ever let go.

Zelda moved forward, leaning and capturing his lips in a delicate kiss. His hands pulled her closer and he felt her sigh softly as he returned the kiss. Her hand tightened in his hair and it left him breathless.

Neither of them paid any thought to the rumors that would be spread about them, to the gossips and the liars. In that moment there was only the two of them, alone together on the balcony surrounded by shining diamond stars.