#Me sitting here with not a single braincell to light the darkness behind my eyes:

[myelocin]

Still My Favorite Boy | Kuroo Tetsurou

Synopsis: Being best friends with Tetsurou over the years has its perks. Like, when you can’t be bothered to drive--you know he’s right there ready to be your personal uber. But your favorite perk, perhaps, was whenever he said he loved you--you know he always means it.

Characters/Pairing: Implied Atsumu x Reader, Kuroo Tetsurou x Reader (or is it lmao)

Tags/Warnings/Genre: Bestfriend!Kuroo, Pining (or is it heh), Fluff, Alot of banter, no warnings! :D

WC: 1k+ drabble

a/n: so,,, if you’ve read Redefining You & To Us, A Love Story Unwritten, and its Epilogue you must know I have this love for the dynamic y/n has with Tetsu,, so here are some crumbs for that 

-

“You know what would be weird?” Tetsurou asks.

“If you bleached your hair?” You suggested.

Tetsurou scoffs next to you and sits up, grabbing the can of beer he set on the edge of his bedside table some minutes ago. “You are not going to touch my hair.” He says this while turning his head to face you still laying on the bed and gives you a look.

“You’re just scared you’ll go bald.” You point out, craning your head to face him. Tetsurou responds by laying back down and turning his head to face you. “That’s a valid fear, though.”

“I wouldn’t look good bald.” He points out, closing his eyes and shuddering in exaggeration.

“Oi,” you reach up and flick his forehead, “—some people can pull off being bald. That bald dude from Karasuno’s hot.”

“Yamamoto’s counterpart?” He asks, and you nod laughing. “So you’re implying I’d look hot if I were to be bald?”

“No.” You deadpan. “I just want permission to fuck up your hair.”

This time, Tetsurou’s the one to flick your forehead and you lay there pouting before eventually laughing along with him. “What were you asking again?” You ask, remembering that he had a question before you redirected the conversation.

“About time you remember,” he huffs and laughs as you nudge his shoulder to urge him on, “I said, you know what would be weird?”

“What?” you laugh out copying the tone of his voice.

“Would you find it weird if we ended up together?” He asks, the tone in his voice suddenly lacking the tease from earlier. You turn your body to face him and stretch the silence thinking about a response before tentatively responding, “Like, together together?”

Tetsurou’s body still faces yours as he shifts his arm so that he’s resting his head in it. “Yeah.” Comes his reply.

“Is this because I confessed to you in high school? It’s been eight years, Tetsu.” You say, looking at his expression trying to decipher the meaning behind his question.

“We know each other the best, though, and we’re almost thirty.” He says, expression steady and unchanging.

“So what if we’re thirty?” You question, laughing, before suddenly exclaiming, “Wait do you mean you’re worried about that bet we agreed on years ago?”

Before the two of you graduated with the knowledge that you’d be in different cities for college, Tetsurou came to you one night asking for your hand in “marriage”. You laugh at the memory because that night he came to you after downing some cans of beer and marathoning some show called Single by 30.

According to high school level Tetsurou, it was a great idea incase neither of you were married at thirty. You remember yourself humoring him and saying a yes before accepting the novelty mood ring he won at the arcade earlier that night.

Tetsurou laughs along to your expression as you lift your hand and show him the ring still on your finger to this day. “You kept it all these years.” He says in a dramatic tone before entwining his hand with yours.

“Your hands are sweaty.” You laugh, shaking his hand off as he grabs at it anyway. “Also,” you begin, “we’re only in our mid-twenties. And a lot of people don’t get married right when they turn 30!”

You look at the pink swirling in the mood ring; at this point you don’t even remember what the colors meant anymore—not like you believed in it either way. Beside you, Tetsurou shakes his head and clutches your hand to his chest, the expression in his face feigning pain. “Yer breakin’ my heart.” He says, and you laugh wrenching your hand out of his grasp just to flick his forehead.

“Why are you doing that accent?” You ask despite knowing the answer.

“Because it sounds like that dude from your work who you keep making googly eyes at so I figured if I tried to talk like him, you’d accept my re-proposal.” He says in a matter of fact tone that contrasts the playful glint in his eyes.

“Atsumu doesn’t talk like that all the time!” You exclaim, remembering the new guy at work who just transferred from the Kansai region.

“His name gives me country vibes.” Tetsurou says, closing his eyes and nodding to himself. You hit him arm and sigh, though the traces of your laughter still evident on your face. “You’re just being mean, Tetsu.”

Tetsurou looks at the smile spilling from your lips and smiles. “Just kidding. I’m just scared you’ll replace me.”

At that, you face him and flash the mood ring on your finger. “Why would I replace my advance fiancé?” You joke. Tetsurou puts his hand on his chest before wiping an imaginary tear on his cheek. “Yer makin’ me blush, darlin.” He says and you laugh at his attempt to copy Atsumu’s accent for the second time.

“Tetsu!”

“I’m kidding. Just don’t get hurt this time.” He tells you, then grabs your hand continuing, “I don’t want to see this ring turn black. Ever.”

“What if black means super happy?” You ask, teasing.

“I assure you I have enough braincells to say that it, in fact, does not.” He responds.

The two of you lay on your backs facing the ceiling—at the glow in the dark star stickers you put on his ceiling some years ago when he said he had a little trouble sleeping with how shitty the natural lighting was in his room and how the lamp he bought was too bright.

“I won’t get hurt because if I do I know you’ll kick his ass back to Osaka.” You whisper, biting your lip from laughing.

“Like how you’re the reason my ex is almost bald because you pulled her hair for cheating on me?” Tetsurou whispers back, then snickers at the memory.

“Fuck yeah.” You finally laugh.

“You’re always going to be my favorite girl.” He says, and you nod. “You’re my favorite boy, too.”

“Would you eat a block of cheese for me?” He asks, knowing how much you hate cheese.

“Don’t push it.” You respond.

Tetsurou laughs and shifts so that his head is leaning against your shoulder. You crane your neck until you feel tufts of his hair on your cheek. His hair, despite being wild always felt soft; you’d never tell him that, though.

“Love you, dumbass.” He says and you feel his hand squeeze yours.

“Love you too.” You reply, then close your eyes to imagine the color your ring could be flashing.

 -

[justletmeplayminecraft]

So um. I saw the dialing thing and the line “never speak of this again” with Scar and Mumbo or smth? I dunno I just really liked their dynamic together in their recent eps and I’m super interested in what you’d do with this :D

i couldn't resist the urge to write some fluff with these idiots. based in a future where mumbo's base is fully operational, here's ~1.7k words of mumbo & scar desperately trying to share their single braincell. i hope you enjoy !!

Of all the stupid things Mumbo has done this season, he did not expect getting trapped in his own base to join that list. But, here he is, in his pitch black storage room, in a smaller yet cobblestone and dirt shelter. Trapped for the foreseeable future as he frantically scrolls through his communicator to see if any other hermits are online. It's embarrassing. Absolutely and utterly embarrassing. And the worst thing is, he should have been able to see it coming!

There are reasons he's part of the one braincell squad. Several, in fact, but this moment has to be up there in his top ten.

On the other side of the wall, a zombie groans too close for comfort. He's sitting on grassy ground in a one block space, with only the light of his communicator for comfort. His stuff is going to de-spawn at this rate. This is terrible. Why is nobody else online? Usually there's at least a few others around at this time of day!

<GoodTimeWithScar joined the game>

Ah. Mumbo's not sure if he should be relieved or kiss his items goodbye. Maybe both. He sighs, fingers already moving to send a message.

<MumboJumbo> scar

<GoodTimeWithScar> Mumbo! Good morning!

<MumboJumbo> i need your help

<GoodTimeWithScar> Oh?

<MumboJumbo> could you come to my base? with a golden apple please?

<MumboJumbo> i promise i will pay you back but im in a bit of a pickle

<GoodTimeWithScar> The great Mumbo needs my help?

<GoodTimeWithScar> What do you even need a golden apple for? Just a normal one, right?

<MumboJumbo> second question, yes

<MumboJumbo> first question, my base died with me trapped in my storage room and it needs feeding to revive it

<GoodTimeWithScar> You know maybe I shouldn't have asked.

<GoodTimeWithScar> I'm on my way. Call?

<MumboJumbo> thatll work.

Mumbo leans his head against cobble, navigating through Scar's contact until he's able to find the call icon. He takes a deep breath, thankful for the good connection across the server. What would he do if he couldn't contact anybody down here? Cry, probably. Die a lot. His communicator dials, then rings for two seconds. Two seconds too long, if you ask him.

"Mumbo!" Scar's voice is accompanied by the explosion of a rocket, wind crackling through the call. Mumbo sighs in relief.

"Scar you are a... sound for sore ears?" Scar laughs, and Mumbo can't help a small giggle in response. He moves to his headphones, hoping to block out the mobs filling his storage room. Why did he think this was a good idea for a base?

"Okay, Mumbo, you're going to have to guide me through what I need to do here." It's strange to hear Scar so straight forward, honestly. His voice still holds that light-hearted note in it, it'll be dark day when Scar loses that.

"Right, okay." Mumbo takes a deep breath, picturing his base in his mind. What's the most Scar-proof way he can explain this? Oh, if Scar dies as well- "So, on the outside of my base, there should be these big towers of redstone lamps, right? They'll all be off right now. But, near the bottom, there should be a chest. You put the golden apple in there."

"Ah, in the like. Big blocks of four?" Mumbo claps, before wincing at how loud that probably was over the microphone.

"Yes! That! Can you see a chest at the bottom?" Mumbo listens closely to the burst of a rocket, the sound of feet stumbling on the ground. He holds his breath, waiting for the confirmation that this situation might finally be over.

"I see it!" His body sags with the release of air. "Okay, uh, I've put the apple in." Mumbo listens closely, taking out a headphone. Distantly, underneath all the mobs, he hears pistons, a familiar heartbeat starting up. If he sinks down any further he's going to become a puddle. "The lights are coming on!"

"Okay-" Mumbo's hands wave in front of him as he speaks "-Go to the centre of my base, there should be nether portals and a massive hole leading downwards." The sounds of movement, footsteps echoing on the walls.

"What the heck, Mumbo, how many mobs do you have down there?" Mumbo sighs, closing his eyes. They're so close.

"Are all of the lights on?" He checks.

"Well, it's lit up. I can see your chests, and I think that's your stuff? Jeez, if I knew I was going to need to fight I would've been more prepared."

"How bad is it?" The high hum from Scar is a pretty good answer.

"Could be better." He hears a block move, followed by Scar telling him, "Alright, I've set my spawn. I'm gonna try to snipe them." Mumbo leans forward, awkwardly manoeuvring so he can break a dirt block against the ground. Light floods into the one block space. He can see the feet of mobs wandering between tall grass. In the distance, there's a clang of an arrow finding a skeleton. He breathes out, wincing at the ache as he pushes up from that position. He's too tall for this.

He thinks he remembers where his stuff was. If the coast is clear, he might be able to run for it and duck back in here. Get his sword equipped, elytra on, and things will be fine! He could salvage some of his dignity. Hopefully. Probably not.

"Scar?" He asks, "Could you tell me if the coast is clear so I can grab my stuff?" It takes a second to get a reply, marked by the ding of a successful hit.

"I can do that." Scar sounds distracted, focused. "Wait- oh, nononono-" Mumbo's communicator dings. He doesn't need to look to know what message will greet him.

<GoodTimeWithScar fell to his death trying to escape a skeleton>

"So, uh, Mumbo. We might have a bit of a situation." Mumbo buries his face into his hands. He twists his body down again to get an idea of how many mobs are left. Counting the number of feet and shadows he can see, it's not looking good.

"Yeah, we certainly might." His voice is high, stressed laughter escaping him with his face pressed into the dirt. "What do we do now!" Scar's bubbling giggles are accompanied by the scramble of feet across stone.

"Um, die a bunch?" Scar suggests. Mumbo's arms give up and he falls into a heap. His shoulders shake with his own giggles, the two in harmony over the call.

"Maybe it's a good thing nobody else is on."

Scar has to wait for his laughter to die down to speak, "I bet I'll die less than you." Mumbo smirks.

"You're on."

-

About half an hour later, Mumbo is sorting his stuff whilst Scar scrolls through their death messages. He's bruised all over, has collected a few scratches from loose arrows, but it looks like all of his items are here. This has gone better than he expected. He still wants to crawl into bed and never get out again.

"You know, I'm pretty sure I've won," Scar announces, looking up from his communicator with a pleased grin. Mumbo makes a noise, pulling up his own screen.

"Absolutely not. There's no way, you died so many times!"

"Yeah, but I died eight times. You died ten." Honestly, he's probably right. Mumbo lost track after death three. Everything blurred into a mess of sprinting off the bed to get his items, picking up half of them, maybe getting a swing or two, dying. And then repeat that apparently ten times.

He sighs as he finishes counting up the deaths. Scar did indeed win. He puts the last of his items in the right slots, leaving the rest to the sorting system. Finding his bed, he flops onto it. Scar is sitting on the stone centre beaming at him. The cut on his forehead is barely healing up, a bruise on his cheek.

"No, no. I want to know exactly how you ended up in this position." He's leaning forward, smug curiousity on every inch of his expression. Mumbo shuts his eyes, whining at him.

Mumbo lifts his hand, gesturing towards his chests, "I should have potions in here somewhere, if you want one." Scar giggles, shaking his head.

"Do you have to?"

"I want to know why I died eight times, Mumbo!"

"You're going to laugh."

"That's the plan." Mumbo shakes his head, rolling around so he can sit on the bed. Scar is waiting patiently, even crossing his legs like he's expecting a bedtime story.

"I made my base alive?" Mumbo explains, not sure why he's questioning himself. He did the redstone and everything. "And, as it gets unhappier, more things close off."

"Including your storage room?" Scar asks, clear amusement in his voice. Mumbo finally breaks into a giggle, falling onto his knees.

"I thought it was a good idea at the time!" He exclaims. "It stops sorting items, the lights go out, and then it locks itself down!"

"With you in it."

"I forgot Xisuma was working in the area!" His groan gets mixed with a laugh. "Oh, I am such an idiot."

"How about we agree to never speak of this again?" Scar suggests. Mumbo's halfway through nodding when Scar adds, "For a few diamonds?" Mumbo bursts into surprised laughter, quickly dissolving into giggles.

"You know what, you deserve them after this." Scar laughs.

"Maybe I'll have to die for people more often," he teases, watching Mumbo as he heads to his diamond chest.

"I wouldn't advise it personally." Mumbo looks over his shoulder at him. "That's how Grian gets you."

"Mm, very true." Scar takes in the storage room again, pocketing the diamonds Mumbo offers him. "Do you think you could show me some of the redstone behind this place? I am absolutely fascinated by how you managed to make such a counterproductive system."

"Well, you know I'll never miss an opportunity to show off my redstone." Scar takes the hand Mumbo offers him, smiling.

-

It's an hour or so later. Mumbo is showing off how he sends the signal between floors when their communicators beep.

<xisumavoid> should I be concerned about the number of deaths in the log?

They share a look and laugh.

[hi-hey-haechan]

hii could you write something about when they are drunk and want to have sex and when they convince the reader and start they end up sleeping, like something funny ?? this was kind of a pointless idea but I thought it was funny, I would be very grateful !! (sorry for english kkk) And I love your blog 💖💖😗😗 (can be one or more groups of your choice)

hii could you write something about when they are drunk and want to have sex and when they convince the reader and start they end up sleeping, like something funny ?? this was kind of a pointless idea but I thought it was funny, I would be very grateful !! (sorry for english kkk) And I love your blog 💖💖😗😗 (can be one or more groups of your choice

We're doing SKZ Minho because he's my bias and because he'd 100% do something like this.

"You're beautiful," Minho slurred. You two were walking out to his car -- or, well, YOU were walking, whereas your boyfriend was stumbling, sometimes tripping and falling against you. Your hand was grabbing his arm in a vice-like grip, doing everything in your power to not let him fall.

"Mhm, and you're drunk," you replied. You couldn't even bring yourself to be exasperated. Drunk Minho was just too hilarious and too adorable to ever irritate you. Besides, he rarely got drunk anyways, much less this drunk. You were at fault for letting him drink so much, but then again, he deserved a drink or two after working so hard that comeback season. However, when the "two drinks" lead to three, and then four, there had to be a line drawn somewhere.

“I may be ‘drunk,’“ he drawled, “but when I wake up with an awful headache, you’ll still be beautiful.”

“Whatever you say,” you said, hardly paying attention to what he was saying. He stumbled to the right, pushing into you while doing so, almost causing you to topple over. You barely managed to keep yourself from falling, and same with Minho.

“I say smart things,” Minho hummed, smiling while closing his eyes contentedly. You had to stifle a laugh. Even when he was sober, your boyfriend still said some words that weren’t exactly intelligent. Minho was intellectually brilliant, yet he often acted as though he was functioning off of a single braincell.

There was a cat walking across the sidewalk approximately ten feet in front of you. “Look at the pretty cat,” you suggested, trying to occupy his brain differently. 

What you didn’t expect was for him to stumble after the cat in a drunken sort of run. With a harsh yowl, the calico kitten scampered off, likely terrified for its life. Minho fell to his knees before yelling desperately, “No, kitty, come back and embrace me as your king!” At the sight of your boyfriend kneeling on the cold sidewalk, hands balled into fists, yelling at a feline that was long-gone, you couldn’t help but double over in laughter.

You ran over to him, grabbing his arm in an attempt to force him to his feet. “You have three cats at home, remember? Let’s go home and see them.”

Minho’s face brightened, and he clapped his hands. He hopped a couple times and then stumbled when he landed, almost falling onto a stranger’s car. You had to grab onto his hand in order to keep him upright. 

You strapped him into the passenger seat of your car. He leaned forward to give you a kiss, but it hit the corner of your mouth only, making you want to laugh again. You felt his warm hand gently caressing the back of your head, and he said, “Your hair feels soft, like Dori is sitting on the back of your head!”

Yes, because your cat can sit on the back of my head, defying gravity. Of course.

With a sigh, you shut the door and got into the driver’s seat, driving a few short miles back to your shared apartment. You dragged him into the apartment, through the door, down the hallway, and you attempted to push him onto the bed.

“Y/n,” he whined, grabbing your waist and pulling you down on top of him. He smelled like alcohol, as you expected. Minho’s face suddenly buried itself into your neck, and his lips planted kisses onto the bare skin. His kisses were messy, slightly drunken, as you expected in this state.

“Minho, baby, let’s go to sleep,” you said, attempting to get out of his grasp. 

Your boyfriend bit lightly on the skin of your neck, sucking harshly for a second, which completely startled you. His arms suddenly became tighter, holding you down on top of him. For someone who was currently drunk, Minho was strong. His mouth on you had the same effect on you as it did when he was sober. You let out a quiet sigh, the feeling quite wonderful.

“You’re beautiful,” Minho slurred for the second time that night. This time, however, his mouth was pressed against your skin.

“Come here,” you whispered, and when his head raised and eyes, glazed over from the alcohol, met yours, you kissed him. It was a light, gentle brush of your lips against his, the feeling warm and soft. You embraced him fully. 

Minho, however, didn’t think that one kiss was enough. His lips met yours again, this time more powerfully. His mouth wasn’t soft or gentle, but rather passionate and fast. Your boyfriend’s mouth moved against your own with fervor and power, saying a million slurred, incoherent words at once, without him even making a sound. His kisses were sloppy, as expected from a more-than-tipsy Minho. He shifted on you ever so slightly, and that was when you felt his erection pressing into your leg.

Your immediate reaction was placing your hands flat against his chest, pushing a bit. That was sort of your way of letting him know that he was making you uncomfortable in some way. He wrenched himself away from you. Even when drunk, he still cared immensely about you. “Did I do something wrong?” His words sounded slightly distressed, and his eyes weren’t staring at you, but rather beyond you. “Why is the left lamp prettier than the right one?” And he was back, a drunken idiot.

“That’s one lamp, dumbass. Focus your vision. Also, you did nothing wrong. But you’re drunk, and I’m not gonna have sex with you while you’re drunk.”

“Why not?” he frowned. It was kind of cute, the way he pouted sadly. 

“Because I want to feel the connection between us, and that’s not there when one of us is drunk. Because that feels like taking advantage of you, in a way, no matter how many times you’ll agree to it. Because I want you to remember everything tomorrow morning, I’d want you to remember the way you felt when you reached your high.”

“But I love you,” he whined. “That’s the connection. I’ll remember this all tomorrow morning. I’m not that drunk!”

“Baby, you told the cat to embrace you as its king.”

Minho rutted his hips against your leg. A low groan sounded in the back of his throat, and he repeated his action. “I want you,” he said, his voice steady and sure.

“Fine.” You didn’t want to argue. Besides, due to his promotions, he’d been busy, meaning that neither of you had been intimate for quite some time. You would force him to lead, for the most part; you refused to do anything to him while he was under the influence. 

He began by eagerly attempting to pull your shirt over your head, but the thread caught in the hook of your bra, somehow. You, while laughing, asked him to stop moving for a second as you attempted to fix your problem. In the end, you pulled it over your head. Minho’s eyes were wide, the humor that was once in them long gone. 

His mouth attached itself to one of your nipples, and the feeling brought a jolt to you, extremely unfamiliar. His tongue swirled around the nub slowly, and you couldn’t help but lose yourself in the feeling. He sucked lightly, and the pressure caused a tiny gasp to escape your lips. 

All too quickly, he stopped. Minho flopped onto his back, looking at you with dark eyes. His hair was slightly messy from where you’d grabbed when he sucked your skin, and his member was hard. “Kiss me,” he said, “everywhere.”

The last word was what caught your attention immensely. You removed his shirt, giving yourself the privilege of seeing his gorgeous body. His skin was pale, but he was incredblye strong, stretching over the muscles of his shoulders, arms, and abs. Your fingers grazed over his abs, and you barely felt the slightest shift in him, clearly enjoying this.

You couldn’t stop yourself, and you moved your mouth down to taste him. You traced the line of his collarbone with you lips, appreciating the slightest shudder under you. Confidently, your tongue flicked out, and it repeated the same line as your lips. He wasn’t even shuddering.

You continued lower, lower still, sucking on his nipples and leaving hickies on his chest, where you knew he was sensitive. He wasn’t saying a word, not even making a noise. His nipples tended to be pretty sensitive,, but not this time. He wasn’t feeling them, somehow. 

Growing stubborn and confused, you unbuckled his jeans and slid down his underwear and pants, exposing his hard member. Minho neither said anything or did anything when you licked his length, trying to tease him. Nothing was done when you swirled your tongue around his red tip, his most sensitive part. He was silent and still when you engulfed as much as him in your mouth as you could, trying to get a reaction.

You looked up, trying to find his face. When you saw that his eyes were closed, you were less surprised than you thought you’d be. Classic Minho, passing out hilariously. Yes, he did act like a crackhead behind doors, but him being tired was a different story. He didn’t wake up for anyone or anything when tired. However, he often slept late, which confused you at times. He could be Nocturnal if he wasn’t an idol. You pulled away from him, no longer taking him in your mouth without him being conscious.

“You were so drunk that you fell asleep while I was pleasuring you,” you whispered to him, a hint of a laugh in your voice. “Minho, you’re an idiot. And I love you for it.”

[stories-for-sell]

Shad prides himself in having the best team of Shadow Knights ever. 6 men and a woman made up the team, all trained and groomed to perfection. Perfect little henchmen and henchwoman. Obedient and mature, they never once gave him any problems. Well.. that’s what he thought..

“EUGENE GIVE ME MY GODDAMN SWORD BACK NOW!” Zenix screamed in anger, tackling their former leader, with two tired looking people standing behind them. 

   Off to the left sat the youngest, and the pride and joy of the team, Vylad Ro’Meave. On the right stood two other men, both varying in height. Aaron, the tallest of all of them, and Laurance, who was average height. On the floor, wrestling and screaming about a sword were Zenix and Gene, the troublemakers,  and standing behind them were the two dubbed parents, Sasha and Jeoffrey, who were now trying to break up the fight before one of them almost killed one another.

   A family. That’s what they were’ a Family that had some serious personal issues in each member, but stuck together after everything they’ve been through. And the ‘children’ were known to do pretty stupid things, and Sasha wondered if they shared a single braincell, which Laurance usually has most of the time.

   Vylad ran through the Nether, leaping over ledges to nearby platforms. Watching from the safety of lower land was his older brother Zane and his girlfriend/teammate, Aleina. Their eyes followed him as he lept, soared through the air,and missed the landing. He let out a startled yelp, plummeting into the lava below.

   Laughter erupted from his teammates as he resurfaced, grateful for being fire/lava proof. Bubbling, boiling liquid dripped off his hair as he swam to the ledge, hoisting himself up and collapsing on the ground, giggling to himself for unknown reasons.

   He hoisted himself up onto his feet, feeling a pair of arms wrap around his waist and help him. Turning his head, green met blue and he had to stop himself from shoving Laurance away, letting out a low, warning growl. More for Laurance’s safety than the fact that he didn’t want to be touched by him.

   Zenix walked over, not spotting Laurance’s arms around his boyfriend’s waist, as Laurance pulled back quickly, going sulk in the shadows like a child. He reached Vylad and pulled him into a kiss, discreetly flipping Laurance off while smirking against the smallest boy’s lips

   Gene looked up at the sky, laying in the grass, Aaron next to him. They watched as the deep midnight blue erupted into reds and pinks, the contrasting colors painting across the sky as night turned to day, dark became light. He reached out, finding Aaron’s hand and intertwining their fingers together, palms fitting together perfectly like a puzzle finding it’s missing piece. Complete. Glancing over, ocean blue eyes met coal, travelled downwards to stare at a pair of rough, chapped lips, belonging to thor boyfriend. He didn’t realize he was chuckling until a hand cupped his cheek, thumb tracing along his cheekbone.

   Once more, their eyes met, and Gene let out a soft snicker, which soon turned into a full on laughing fit. His poor boyfriend had no idea what was so funny, but Gene’s laugh, full of pureness and joy was infectious and he found himself unable to contain his own laughter.

   When they finally calmed down, Gene wiped tears from his eyes, grinning as Aaron looked at him, trying to catch his breath. 

  “Look at us.. Acting like a domesticated married couple!” Gene exclaimed, still giggling to himself.

   Silence from Aaron as he just grinned. Grinned like the lovesick idiot he was; like a domesticated husband.

   Aleina sharpened her sword, looking up as someone stood above her, blocking out the light from the glowstone overhead. A pair of legs in armour, attached to a torso and arms, with a head and face hidden by jet black hair and a mask. Zane.

   “What do you want, ‘Priest’?” She questioned, setting her sword in its sheath and standing up.

   “You never told me your name.”

   “It’s Alei-” She froze for a split second, glancing around, panicked before meeting his icy blue gaze once more. Her eyes turned dark red, full of a fierce determination, driven by an unknown force. “"Ezeray. Ezeray Reyn."

   Zane looked at her, eyebrow raised, and sighed, knowing he wouldn’t get the truth anytime soon. 

   “Fine, Ezeray play your games, but just know that you do not want to get on my bad side.”

   Sasha watched her ‘children’ play, sitting next to her fellow adult, Jeoffrey. Glancing at him, she saw him staring at Vylad with the sort of gaze you only see between siblings. 

    “Are you two related?”

   “Huh?” He turned to look at her in confusion, raising an eyebrow, following her gaze back to the smallest of the group, features softening as a slight smile formed on his lips. That smile slowly fades as he sighed.

   “He’s my little brother.. Half-brother. After father and Mother split, father accompanied Queen Zianna on a trip and.. You can guess what happened.”

   “Is that why you joined…”

   “Joined the jury of Nine? Yes. I wanted to keep him safe but.. I failed.”

   “Does he know?”

   “No, and I want it to stay that way."

   “But..”

  “No, Sash, he doesn’t need to know. It’ll just hurt him more than he already is.” He told her, eyes narrowing as they stared at each other.

   Sasha goes quiet, nodding her head and leaning back.

   “He could use a brother like you, more than you realize.”

   Both jumped, turning to stare at the man that had approached them. 

   “Vincent.. Why are you here?”

   The head guard of New Metelia sat next to them, glancing down the rocky hill to the knights down there. His eyes followed Laurance as he ran around, avoiding Zenix and Gene. Aaron sat nearby with Vylad, showing him his fangs, which had just come in.

  Aphmau sent me. She needs to speak with Vyladmir immediately. Said something about Kul’zak too.”

[jamiebluewind]

A Flame In The Dark: Chapter 2

Fandom: Dimension 20, Fantasy High

Word Count: 3575

Perspective: Riz

Chapter 1 (sorry it wont format!): https://jamiebluewind.tumblr.com/post/189152152044/a-flame-in-the-dark-chapter-1

Notes: Hurt/Comfort. This chapter is much fluffier than the last, but still mind the tags! Special thanks to my beta readers @plutosfury and @winterpower98

Characters: Riz Gukgak, Fig Faeth, Adaine Abernant, Tracker O'Shaughnessey, Sandra Lynn Faeth, Cathilda Ceíli, Boggy the Froggy, and unnamed OC (implied Fabian, Kristen, Gorgug, and Ragh)

Chapter Warnings: cursing, violence mention, murder mention, abuse mention, healed injuries, child abuse mention, child neglect, recovering from starvation, dark themes, trauma, bugs as food (please message me if I missed any)

Summary: The group makes it back to camp, Riz still cradling their guest.

*****

Check out this awesome art inspired by Chapter 1!

https://jamiebluewind.tumblr.com/post/189168730249/winterpower98-drew-some-doodles-of-the-little

https://plutosfury.tumblr.com/post/189155204080/i-was-told-by-a-certain-someone-cough

*****

By the time they reached camp, Riz's arms were aching. He was never the strongest one in the group and the sleeping child in his arms had tested what little strength he did have. It wasn't a weight thing. She was actually very light (if he was honest, she probably weighed less than his briefcase). It was just a combination of things. Post battle fatigue. Hiking for a couple hours. Tired muscles holding something in an odd position. It was worth it though. She looked like she hadn't slept in a long time and needed a nap more than he needed arms that didn't hate him.

He had actually been planning on getting her some food out of his pack after she was healed. She would be hungry then and the food would be less likely to come back up. What he hadn't planned on was her dozing off in his arms. He wondered what had been going on in her little body that Fig's magic had targeted. Whatever it was, the relief she felt was enough to make her fall asleep so hard that she was dead to the world. It took both arms to carry her after that.

He shifted, leaning his body back so that more of her weight was on his chest, and held her awkwardly for a moment while he placed his now free hand on a nearby rock to help him sit down. Normally he would try to find something to sit on to keep from messing up his clothes, but he was tired and filthy and out of fucks. He let out a breath, his throbbing feet grateful for the relief. He shifted the child a bit to give his arms a break too. She didn't seem to mind... or even wiggle for that matter. Riz got a little chuckle out of it.

The others were off getting everything set up for the night. Tracker was preping the moon haven. The campfire crackled to life as they got out various supplies. Quiet chatter filled the air.

Adaine stood nearby, leaning against a tree. She was quiet, only occasionally adding to the chatter or shaking her head at their friends' antics. The spell she'd been working on for most of the hike was probably ready, but left uncast. Riz smiled. She was probably holding it until the child woke up. She had always been the braincell of the group. He wasn't sure why he was surprised.

Riz wasn't sure how long he had been lost in thought when the smell of food cooking hit him. He felt her twitch and looked down to see a little nose twitch, followed by sleepy eyes blinking open. There was a tiny jump as she took in her surroundings and her brain caught up with what was going on.

[Good morning], Riz said with a smile. She looked up at him with her eyes barely open and yawned. [You up for something to eat?]

Any hint that she was tired was gone in an instant. Her ears perked up and she looked at him with wide eyes. She looked so much like a puppy at meal time that Riz was surprised that she didn't start pawing at his shirt! [You can't have a lot at one time], he told her. Her brows lowered as she gave him an angry pout. [BUT, I'll make sure you get a lot of small meals to keep from overloading your stomach and you can have as much to drink as you want.] After a moment of deliberation, her faced relaxed. He supposed that was as close as he was gonna get to her agreeing with him.

Riz looked towards the campfire and the food cooking over it. It smelled good sure, but a little too heavy and vegetable filled for a goblin who's gone without food for a while. At least he knew how to get her what she needed.

"Hey Adaine," he called out. The elf looked away from the group and over towards Riz. "Could you come over here real quick?"

Adaine leaned up, wiping invisible dust off her legs before she made her way over towards the pair. She slowed as she approached, making eye contact with the child. Oops. He almost forgot. [This is 'Adaine'], Riz told the child. [I need her to come over here. Is that okay?]

The child looked at Adaine and then back at Riz. She watched Adaine as she carefully made her way over and sat down across from them. The child didn't seem to mind Adaine's presence. She looked more curious than anything. Riz wondered if it was a magical ability from Boggy or Adaine herself.

"I have a spell ready for her," Adaine said. She looked at the child as she spoke to Riz, her voice a steady calming tone. "I'll need to use it before I can do anything else. It will allow her to understand us, but only for an hour. I have to touch her for it to work."

Riz nodded and looked down. He rolled the words over in his brain, trying to figure out the best way to phrase it. ['Adaine' can... make you understand what everybody is saying for a little while if you let her touch you. It's kinda like what 'Fig' did, only 'Adaine' doesn't need music to make it work.]

The child was still a moment as she regarded Adaine. Then, she reached out a hand. Adaine slowly reached out, closing the distance. As she touched the small hand, her eyes shone with a blue light. It only lated a moment. The child examined her hand and looked back up at Adaine.

"Hello," Adaine said with a soft smile. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

The child's eyes grew wide as she stared at Adaine. She blinked several times.

"My name is Adaine Abernant," she said to the child. Riz wanted to laugh at how formal she sounded. "I would like to be your friend, if you'll let me of course." The child only responded with more blinking.

"I want to try something," Adaine continued, "just to be sure that you can understand me. I don't want you to feel obligated to talk. You should feel comfortable around us. So all you have to do is nod," she said as she nodded, "or shake your head," she said, demonstrating. "A nod means yes. A head shake means no. Do you understand?" There was a pause followed by a single curt nod. There was a reason that Adaine was the braines of the party. "Fantastic," she said with a smile.

"Now," Adaine said, turning her attention towards Riz, "I understand that there was something you wanted to ask me?"

Riz had almost let it slip his mind. "We need to get some fluids in her," he said. "Some food too. Could you get her some of that electrolyte stuff for kids to start?"

Adaine nodded and reached in her pocket. She pulled out a plain water bottle filled with slightly thick liquid and handed it to the child. The child tilted her head and reached out, sticking her hand in Adaine's pocket only to jerk a bit and lean over farther, speading the pocket open to look inside. Adaine hid a laugh behind her hand.

"It's a magical jacket," Adaine told her. "I can pull things I want out of it... as long as they aren't too expensive." Adaine blinked and looked like she had an idea. "I'll pull out a few things for you if you let me get you cleaned up first."

The child considered for a moment and then nodded. Adaine cast prestidigatation. Riz was thankful that he was in range.

The child's hair seemed to expand as the weight of the mud was lifted.  Her tangle of curls were redish-orange at the base, but transitioned into a pale orange at the end. It was like she was suddenly haloed by a mass of warm flame.

The color of her skin was also a surprise. Before, she had reminded him of a caramel latte, but underneath the dirt and grime was something closer to butterscotch. It was a warm yellow-orange that complemented her bright hair.

The child held up a hand to examine her clean skin. Riz cursed himself for being too perceptive. Without the dirt in the way, he could see scars litterered across her skin. Some were faded and small. Others looked like they must have been deep when they were fresh. He felt the rage trying to bubble up in him again as he silently wished that he had taken his time killing that bastard. Breathe in. And out. Just be grateful he's dead now. And in hell. Definitely in hell... where Bill Seacaster is. Huh. Maybe Fabian's dad would be willing to double murder him? The thought helped him relax a little.

"Much better," Adaine said with a nod. "I'll get you some better clothes after you've had something to eat. Oh Riz?" she asked.

"Hum?" Riz answered, still a bit lost in thought.

"What would be safe for her to eat?" Adaine asked. "I'm honestly unfamiliar with goblin dietary needs and you always seem willing to eat anything, so I'm at a bit of a loss."

Riz thought back to all the times he was sick as a kid. What food his mom would fix. What to avoid. "Probably meat with no salt and not a lot of fat," he said. "Chicken. Ham. That kind of thing. Maybe some rice... oh!" he said and then blushed. This was gonna be a little embarrassing to explain. "A lot of goblin moms make this dish when their kids get sick. It's... kinda like a rice ball?" He screwed his face. "No. Not exactly. But similar enough I guess. It is a ball of rice. Sometimes the rice is mixed with cricket flour, but not always. They also have this... bug filling. Like a puree of earthworms, crickets, meal worms... it's easy on our stomachs and has a lot of protein. Plants too, but they have already been broken down, so they wont bother us when we have a sick stomach. We... call them bug balls."

Riz stopped and looked up at Adaine. He expected to see her wrinkling her nose as most people do, but she looked more curious than anything. She thought for a moment before reaching her hand in her pocket and pulled out what looked to be three bug balls. She looked over at the child, about to say something when a little hand bolted out and grabbed one. It was gone in a flash. "I was going to say that maybe Riz should test these first," she said, covering up the remaining two to avoid them being snatched up as well, "but I guess you made that decision for me." She shook her head, unable to hide her smile. "Riz?" she asked, holding out one of the remaining balls, "Would you mind?"

Riz took the bug ball and bit down. It was hard not to inhale his food like he normally did, but he needed to make sure they were made right. "Not bad," he said as he ate the rest in a blink of an eye. "Maybe a little less salt? At least until she's feeling better." He looked down at the kid eyeing the remaining ball. "You can have the other one later," he told her. She pouted. "We gotta make sure your stomach handles the first one okay." He picked up the sports bottle and handed it to her, "For now, have some of this."

She looked at the bottle and tilted her head. Riz fought the urge to facepalm when he realized she wouldn't know what to do with it. "Like this," Riz said as he pulled a drink from the bottle and then handed it to her. She examined the bottle, took a drink,... and then made a terrible face, shaking her head at the bottle.

Adaine laughed. "I don't believe she's used to sweets," she said, pulling another water bottle out of her pocket. "This one," she said, pointing to the new bottle, "is just plain water. I'll refill it as much as you like, but I would also like you to finish the other bottle... if you can."

The child hesitantly took the new bottle and took a sip before nearly sucking it dry, squeezing the bottle to make the water come out faster. Adaine pulled a large container of water out of her pocket and refilled the bottle before handing it back to her.

"Could I share some tea with her later?" Adaine asked. Amber eyes looked at her, waiting on an explanation. "Oh! Hum..." she said, pausing to think. "Tea is like... well... you take hot water and mix special flowers or leaves with it to make it taste different." The child's brows furrowed at this. "It can also do stuff like... help you sleep or keep you awake. It depends on the flower or leaf." A nod followed.

"I don't see why not," Riz answered. "Just... maybe avoid the sugar."

A cheeky grin spread across Adaine's face. "I was planning on her actually drinking it, Riz," she said with a smirk.

The child handed Adaine the empty water bottle. She refilled it again and handed it back. The child put it back to her mouth and lazily sucked at the bottle, her desperation mostly gone.

Adaine looked at the child, studying something for a few moments before reaching into her coat. She pulled out a handfull of solid colored cloth and held it up for inspection. It was a simple sleeveless sundress. Instead of the fiery color Riz was expecting it to be, the dress was closer to a cornflower blue mixed with a splash of green. It looked soft, contrasting the rough burlap tunic she was currently wearing. The bottom hung losely, reminding Riz of a flower petal. There was a decent sized half moon pocket in the center of the chest, stitching dividing it into two smaller sections.

"Well?" Adaine asked, looking from the dress to the child. "What do you think?" Adaine was met with wide eyes and an enthusiastic nod. "Well then, let's get you out of those rags and into something fancy!"

The child stood up and took off her borrowed hat, placing it gently on Riz's lap. She grabbed the bottom of her tunic and Riz barely had time to look away before she pulled it off.

He realized then that the others had been watching the three of them as the group of teens made little sounds of surprise before turning their heads, save Fig who just said "huh." which he found a little weird. The adults mostly seemed to get a laugh out of it.

There was a beat of silence. "Oh..." Adaine said. "Hum, well. Oh Riz?" Adaine sounded nervous. "Do um... do goblins normally have tails?"

"Um... no?" Riz answered, a little confused. "I mean, it's a recessive trait. It CAN happen, but it's kinda rare. It's usually just a nub though. Why?" Riz asked. "Does she have one?"

"Yes..." Adaine answered, trailing off. "It's a very nice tail," she said sweetly, probably to the child. "Arms up please!"

"Dude," Fig said. She had moved closer and seemed to be staring at the child. "It aint a nub. It's long enough for her to wear it like a belt!" Riz's eyes went wide. I mean, sure it was possible. There were a few tribes scattered about that had them. He had just never seen one in person.

"Dude... you look so cool!" Fig said enthusiastically. "I hope if I ever grow a tail, it looks as cool as yours. You should leave it out. Show it off."

"Is it safe for me to look now?" Riz asked, still facing away.

"Oh!" Adaine answered. "Sorry Riz. Yes. You can look now."

Riz turned around and looked at the child. The dress fit her well, the bottom hanging lose and moving as she twisted softly side to side. Her hands were stuffed in pockets hidden in the folds of the dress, her shoulders hunched forward. The dress hung past her knees. A slinder tail hung down past the end of the dress, curling up to avoid the ground. The tail twitched slightly, maybe from anxiety over having it exposed, maybe just because of nerves in general. Riz tried not to imagine why she would feel the need to hide it under her clothes. He failed.

"You look great!" Riz said with a bit too much enthusiasm. "I like all the pockets. And it looks soft." She smiled just a crack and nodded as she continued to sway and watch the dress move.

"It cool," Fig said, tapping her chin, "but it could be cooler." She pulled out her bag and started digging for... something. Amber eyes watched her as she pulled out random jewelry, shaking her head and muttering to herself as she went. "Ah ha!" she said as she came up triumphant. She held up a necklace with a long dark chain. Hanging below it was an orange teardrop pendant, sparkling in the light. "Bought this back on Leviathan," she stated as she looked towards the child. "It was practically MADE for you. You want?"

The child paused before responding with an enthusiastic nod. Fig walked over and crouched down before handing over the necklace. The child held it up, examining the stone. Fig stayed crouched as she looked, waiting until amber eyes met hers. "You're supposed to wear it," Fig said pointing at the necklace. She was answered with a curious gaze as the child's head tilted to the side.

"Here," Fig said "I'll show you." She took the necklace from tiny hands and put it over the child's head. Despite the long chain, it couldn't get past her massive tangle of hair. It just sat there on top of her curls like a hair accessory. "Holy shit you have a lot of hair!" Fig said with a laugh. She reached out and tossled it a bit with her fingers. The child didn't seem to mind.

"Well," Fig said, patting her thigh, "that didn't work. Let me just..." Fig trailed off as she undid the clasp and put the chain around the child's neck before fastening it back together. "There we go!" she said, once again triumphant. "Looks great on ya kid."

Fig wasn't lying. The fiery stone suited her. She also seemed to love the way the light shined through it and the smooth texture.

While watching her, he caught Adaine fumbling for something out if the corner of his eye. He looked over just in time to see her pull out a large sunhat. "I noticed that the light seems to bother your eyes," she said. "Would this help?"

Tiny hands took the hat and examined it before nodding and placing it on her head. The hair inside the hat squished down to fit, making the hair outside the hat stick out. She adjusted the rim a bit and sighed happily. She nodded at Adaine again. Adaine smiled back.

"Would you like to meet Boggy?" Adaine asked. The child tilted her head. Adaine took out her frog and placed him in the child's lap. He let out a soft ribbit.

"No no no no no..." Riz yelped as he jumped up to place his hand between Boggy and the child's open mouth. "Boggy is not food," Riz clarified. He tried to ignore Adaine's eyes going wide over her pet nearly becoming someone's dinner. "He's a pet." She tilted her head. "Oh, um..." he took a moment to try and think of a way to explain. "A pet is... an animal that you... love? Love. Yeah. And um... they are like a friend. They help you out like... well Boggy helps Adaine not get upset and Baxter," he said, pointing to the griffin, "he can fly and stuff." God he was bad at this.

Somehow, she seemed to get the message. She put her hand on top of the frog. He croaked happily. She looked over at Riz and back at Boggy, the corners of her mouth tilted up slightly. She then started 'petting' the frog. At least, that's what Riz thought she was doing as she repeatedly slapped the frog's back. Boggy didn't seem to mind the rough treatment though, his body squishing and wiggling with the movement. Her eyes sparkled. A little sound escaped from her. It was rough and quiet, but it was without a doubt a giggle. Riz wondered if it was possible to die from cute.

The child stoped in the middle of a 'pet' and scrunched her face in concentration before going back to abusing Boggy. Sandra Lynn and Cathilda hummed in the background like they knew something the others didn't. "Did you remember to put her in pull ups?" Sandra Lynn asked.

"Um... no?" Adaine answered back, a bit confused. Riz however had already connected the dots.

"Well then," Cathilda said, "it's a good thing ya have prestidigatation dear because otherwise that would be a proper mess!"

They looked down at the muddy spot forming on the ground, quickly followed by a very distinct smell.

"Welcome to potty training kids!" Sandra Lynn yelled. She was enjoying this entirely too much.

*****

[miracle-in-the-eye-of-the-storm]

“You Killed Me”

@angelofthequeers

“Does Ladybug know you’re here?” Papillon’s voice is carefully nonchalant. “Or that fossil of yours, pretending to be a hero?” Ragdoll drops into the seat across from him with a grunt. It lounges, eyeing Papillon with undisguised, amused contempt. “Does your son?” His business-shark smile drops into a dark scowl. “Yeah. The only two parties privy to this meeting are you and me ― unless you have your little sidekick skulking around somewhere?” Ragdoll casts its gaze about, as if the peahen will peek out from behind the rows of potted flowers, and casually pops one of the pristine pastries laid out on the table in its mouth. Good lordy, that’s sweet. (Of course the “neutral ground” Papillon chose is a fancy-ass restaurant. Kotii knew they were right about whoever it is under the mask being a rich asshole. Of course, he could have just chosen at random, but considering the emptiness of the place and the server hovering off to the side with a calm expression, Kotii’s non-existent money is on a hefty bribe instead of a threat. Hefty bribes are usually hard to come by unless you’re a rich asshole. Ah, does Kotii love being right. Kotii does not, however, love whoever designed this place. Geez, it’s almost like they were hoping for some magically powered, moth-themed super villain to reserve the place as a meeting ground. The tiles are checkerboard purple and blue, the walls are painted in metallic grey and black diamonds, and the plants are all various shades of blue, purple, red, and white. They like that the lights don’t /quite/ cover their side of the table, though. Atmosphere is important. And at least the tables themselves are all black and pale blue. Kotii kind of wants to steal one of the chairs; black and plaid? It’s two of their favorite things combined, how could they not want one? Mr. Flutterbutt can have the rest of the place, they don’t care.) It barks out a delighted laugh when the peahen does, in fact, step out from behind the pot of roses closest to the door, like she was waiting for her cue. “I was kidding,” it says, lips peeled back in a feral grin. “Mayura,” Papillon says, steadfastly ignoring Ragdoll. “That will be all, thank you.” The peahen eyes Ragdoll warily ― who does its best not to mockingly echo Flutterbutt, smiles brightly, and wiggles its fingers at her in greeting ― but bows to Papillon silently and leaves. Unfortunately, she doesn’t let go of her transformation while she’s still in sight or earshot. This would be one of the few days one of the idiot Miraculous holders actually uses the single brain cell between them. (Oh well; the both of them’ve lost that braincell plenty of times in the past, and Mayura just used it ― not like Mr. Flutterbutt over here is going to be able to grow a new one by the time this meeting is over.) While Ragdoll and Papillon are waiting for Mayura to be completely out of the picture, they sit in silence. Ragdoll isn’t sure when the waiter ― server, whatever ― left, but he did at some point. He’s probably hanging around in the background somewhere. Ragdoll is just about to wonder if it can get up to look for him when Papillon breaks the silence. “Unless you’re here to offer your Miraculous to me, I think we have nothing more to discuss.” Ragdoll snorts ― nothing more? Dude, the only other thing discussed was who knows who’s where; what happened to it “learning the proper respect”? ― and extends its hands. The ring is hidden, of course, under the fabric of Ragdoll’s gloves, and by the three other rings on that hand as well as the two on the other. “Try it.” Its eyes glitter. “Go ahead; I dare you.” A long, tense moment drags out. It can see the gears turning above his head, something crazed starting to light his eyes. He doesn’t try. Ragdoll reclines back in the chair ― and man, it is really comfy, actually ― with a sigh. “Wimp.” One of Flutterbutt’s hands curls into a loose fist. “Well, back to business ― I really only accepted your ever-so-gracious invitation for a chat because I have a question for you.” It stills suddenly, looks at him. In the shadows thrown over its chair, its eyes glow softly. “Why are you Papillon?” He blinks. “What?” “Why are you Papillon?” Ragdoll asks again. “It’s a simple question, old man. I just wanna know what motivates you to terrorize Paris on a weekly basis.” It tilts its head. “Hmm. Maybe a better question would be ― what do you want to wish for?” He leans forward eagerly. “So the wish will work?” It gives him a look of disgust. You did all this without actually knowing if it would work or not? It wants to ask. It doesn’t. “I asked first, buddy.” He sits back, suddenly, almost a business man again. The manic light in his eyes has dimmed, but it’s definitely still there. “Of course,” he says politely. “I think you’ll agree that my motives are a bit more noble than the common criminal, once you’ve heard them.” The only thing Ragdoll does to betray its spike of incredulity is a raised eyebrow. He continues when it’s clear Ragdoll isn’t going to say anything in response. “Three years ago, my wife and I came across a pair of animal-themed jewelry in Tibet. I thought they were fakes, given the shady booth-runner trying to sell them, but my wife’s always had an eye for that sort of thing, and she was convinced they were real gems. And she so loved birds ― she just had to have the pin, and they came as a set. So we bought them. “At the time, we believed them to be just that ― a brooch and a pin. So you can imagine our surprise when as soon as she put the pin on, a small creature emerged from it!” He laughs a little, lost in the memory. Then his face darkens. “Of course, how were we to know that the Miraculous was damaged?” His eyes glaze over and his voice gets quieter. “How could we have known, when he didn’t even know himself?” “Your wife was effected by whatever damage was done to the Peacock Miraculous,” Ragdoll guesses bluntly. He nods, gaze still distant. “I was . . . out of sorts, for quite a long while. I couldn’t bring myself to try the Miraculous on, either one of them.” The manic light, almost entirely faded away at this point, comes back full force. “But then, when I finally had the strength to try, the moth Kwami told me of the Wish, the absolute power, granted to whoever wields both the Black Cat and the Ladybug Miraculous.” He eyes Ragdoll’s hands hungrily, though clearly frustrated that he doesn’t know which ring it is, or which hand it’s on. “With that Wish, I could bring my wife back,” he murmurs, almost hypnotic in his cadence. “With that Wish, my son would have his mother back. My family would finally be whole again. If I could just . . .” He starts reaching out, fingers twitching minutely. “Uh huh,” Ragdoll says, raising an eyebrow again and crossing its arms. Papillon blinks, whatever spell he’d put himself under broken. “Cool motive, still murder.” He scowls again. “I haven’t killed anyone.” Ragdoll laughs in his face. “Oh, honey,” it says with mock sympathy. “Something tells me you actually believe that.” “And what is that supposed to mean?” Papillon asks sharply. Ragdoll’s smile, devoid of any humor in the first place, slips into something dangerous. “Don’t tell me you don’t remember dear Syren.” The scowl stays fixed on his face. “No? Then surely Gigantitan? Gorizilla? Frozer, even?” “What,” he bites out, “are you talking about.” It makes its smile wider. “My dear Papillon, at this point you’re being deliberately obtuse. I know you can figure out what happens when an upset person of giant proportions rampages through the city. You would have seen the damage through both pairs of eyes. And it was a lovely day before everything went frigid; people like to swim on lovely days in the summer.” It watches him for a long moment. His face is rapidly paling. “And when the entire city was flooded . . . well. “Do you know what it’s like to drown, Papillon?” He pales further. “No,” he whispers. “Yes,” Ragdoll snaps. He flinches at the sudden rise in volume. “It hurts. At first, you think maybe it won’t be so bad; you’ve been out of breath before, and neither of the heroes would let this go on long enough for it to feel any worse than that. But then it keeps going. It keeps going, and your throat starts to burn, and your chest feels like one good poke, one good shove, one good push will burst it wide open. So you let go of all that air you’re holding onto, in the hopes that that will somehow make it better. Except now ― well, now you’re just as stuck as you were before, your foot trapped in that stupid crack in the sidewalk. No more air left in your lungs, and no way to get more air into them. Your brain doesn’t really know that, though. At that point, your brain is just desperate to get one last good lungful of oxygen, so instinct takes over and you try to breathe.” It inhales, as if to demonstrate. “Of course it doesn’t work. The only thing that fills your mouth is that cold, brackish, uncaring water. And when the black starts crawling in at the edges of your vision, you don’t even have enough energy left to feel relief. You just let it happen.” It snorts. “As much as you can let anything happen at that point, anyway.” “That,” Papillon whispers, then shakes his head. Ragdoll ― Kotii ― is amused, for a moment, how a teenager is the one unsettling the adult instead of the other way around. “That wasn’t my fault,” he says, stronger. “I’m not the one who flooded the city.” “Oh, so there’s some other guy out there who can turn people into fuckin’ mermaids?” It laughs ― snarls ― at him. “Sure.” “It was not my fault,” he insists, eyes flashing. “I only want my wife back! All these Akumas are merely a means to an end, and once my Emilie is returned to me―” Ragdoll lunges across the table and yanks him closer by the collar, bringing his face very close to its open, snarling mouth. Its teeth sharpen, get longer, its ears pin themselves flat against its head, and its eyes glow neon blue. They hover there for a long moment, the only sound Ragdoll’s growling. Then it takes a deep breath, forcefully calming itself down, and lets go of him. “How about this,” it says, voice bright with menacing cheer. “Why don’t I use a metaphor? Everyone likes metaphors, especially pretentious assholes like you.” Papillon, massaging his throat, glares but doesn’t say anything. Ragdoll smiles, baring its still-too-sharp teeth. “Yeah. So, let’s say, in this hypothetical scenario, that the Akumas are a bunch of people looking for guns. Shot guns, hunting rifles, pistols, whatever. Any gun will do for what they have in mind, which is either revenge or causing as much damage as possible. Thing is, all the legal gun stores aren’t selling the right sorts of guns, or the guns they do sell aren’t working right. That leaves the illegal route. Which in this case, is you.” “I am not an illegal gun seller―” Papillon starts to protest. “I’m not done,” Ragdoll says, glaring at him. He presses his lips together, obviously displeased, but quiets down again anyway. Ragdoll spreads its hands. “Right. They all flock to you, because your shit’s actually working. So.” It leans forward, eyes glowing again. “You might not have been the one to pull the trigger when I died, but you’re damn well responsible for the gun. Deny it all you want, Mr. Agreste, but I died because of you. “You killed me.”

[headoverjojo]

if you haven't written that yet, could i get a scenario or headcanons (whatever you like!!) of bruno's s/o taking a nearly fatal hit for him?? i mean, if you feel extra angsty it can be fatal haha, but bittersweet is always the best--! take your time thoughh!!

Hello theeeere, honey!! Ok, I tried to do sum angst with a real bitter end, but then my last braincell bitchslapped me, declared a loud “NO” and I’m so happy it did it! So here we go with the bittersweet version~

Bruno Bucciarati’s s/o taking a nearly fatal hit for him

(Under the cut for lenght and mention of blood and wounds!)

You immediately came to Bruno’s office, when he called you. You knew that he wouldn’t ever called you, during work, just to see you, even if you were lovers since so much time. No, he called you just when he had a mission to give.

So, you entered and, as you expected, Bruno was focused on a folder. His eyes darted on you, warming up a little, and he passed you another folder. You browsed it, frowning while you read the names of the targets. A rival gang… it seemed hard.

“I’ll take you with me. Your stand could be really useful.” he said, getting up and laying the folder on his desk. You finished to study your copy, before placing it near his one, nodding. You haven’t go on mission with him since he became Caporegime, so it was a nice news. You knew really well the other’s fighting style, so you two usually formed a kick-ass duo that always managed to accomplish every single mission. This time wouldn’t be different.

“Are you nervous?” he asked, while you were in the car. You shook your head, relaxing on the seat, almost lulled by his smooth driving. You had to relax, before a mission, always, or you couldn’t be at your best. You had to be relaxed and focused.

“Not really. We’re together, so I’ve got you to cover my back. It’s… nice to be out with you again.” you said, with a small smile, lightly squeezing his hand on the gear shift. He smiled at you too, gently squeezing your hand back, before focusing again on the street.

“According to our informers, our targets usually meet in this abandoned warehouse, to sort out drugs. Three of them are stand users, the fourth is standless, so it should be easier to kill him. We’re going to attack as always, first me with Sticky Fingers, then you with your stand, ok?” he summed up, while you nodded. You knew too well this little habit of his: repeating the plan was something that calmed him down, that gave him security. He always did it, even if, sometimes, it could be a bit annoying.

“It will all go well, Bruno.” you softly said, patting his hand. He smiled at you, a bit tense, before stopping the car and turning the engine off. His hand grasped yours and he gently pulled you in a good luck kiss, caressing your cheek with his free fingers.

“I know.” he murmured, before getting out of the car, closely followed by you. You moved silent as shadows, crawling inside the signaled warehouse. You heard voices that confirmed that your informer was right: the rival gang really sorted up the drug here.

You peaked from your hiding spot, locating the enemies. One near the packages of drug, two near a pillar, the last one was smoking at safe distance from the drug. It wouldn’t have been difficult to deal with them.

You exchanged a meaningful look and a nod with Bruno, before he crawled near the man who was smoking. Suddenly, fast a light, Bruno jumped out, calling Sticky Fingers out and charging the man who even hadn’t the time to react and call his stand before Sticky Fingers punched him with a fast series of punches, screaming his iconic “Ariariariariari!” and, finally, opening so many zippers on him to literally reduce the man in pieces.

It all lasted not even a minute.

When the other two charged for Bruno, you jumped out as well, assaulting the one nearer to you. The surprise effect worked again: you ended the man in a matter of minutes.

When you lifted your gaze, Bruno was already fighting with the third enemy, dodging his hits and charging with powerful and precise punches, cornering him more and more. The other could do little to nothing against the Caporegime’s experience and ability, slowly succumbing to him.

But Bruno had just two eyes: he didn’t see the only one left crawling behind him, calling out a stand that he shouldn’t have had, cowardly charging him from behind…

You threw yourself even before you fully registered what was happening. The enemy stand hit you hard, piercing your torso, digging a deep, deep cut that slashed it diagonally from your hip to your shoulder, immediately matched on your stand. You, however, resisted, you refused to faint on spot, to die: you had to protect Bruno’s back, as he did before for you so many times, you were his partner, it was your duty…

In a daze, you saw Sticky Fingers near your own stand, finishing the man with a unusual and feral brutality. His battle cry was even sharper and angrier than usual, or, at least, it seemed so to you, but your ears were full of a low buzz, it was so annoying…

Your knees gave up and you fell, or, better, Bruno catched you in time. You felt his warm arms embracing you tight, his hands desperately trying to stop the blood that was staining your clothes and was dripping on the floor in a red pool under you. You tried to keep your eyes open, but you were so tired…

“Ehi, Y/N, ehi!! Don’t close your eyes, ok? Keep them open, like that, good… you’re strong, ok? You’ll make it, you’ll live. I know you will. Hold on, ok? Hold on, please, hold on!!” Bruno’s voice wasn’t the usual calm velvet that you liked so much, but it was broken, high pitched, desperate. You just wanted to hold him and tell him it was all ok, that you were ok, but your arms were so heavy and your head was spinning so fast…

“I’m ok, Bruno, it’s ok…” you managed to murmur, feeling dizzy and light. You didn’t even feel pain anymore…

He pressed his forehead on yours, still trying to keep you awake. Even if he had zipped your wound, you had already lost too much blood. You were so pale and weak, your breath so thin and labored, you were like a candle about to burn out…

“Please stay with me. Please, don’t leave me, hold on, you’ll be fine, Giorno will heal you…” he said, brokenly, keeping you tight on his chest. You felt some droplets fall on your cheeks and, with a big effort, you unclosed a bit your eyes, seeing, even if blurringly, his oh so blue eyes full of tears that were falling on your face.

You’ve never seen him cry, never, in many years.

“You’ll be fine, Y/N, just hold on a little more…” you felt yourself fall behind, in the dark recesses of your mind. You wanted to tell him you were sorry, that you really wanted to hold on, really, but you were so tired, you wanted to nap a little, could he wake you up, if needed? Oh, and you wanted to tell him you loved him, you loved him so much, even if you never managed to tell him those exact words, always thinking that you had all the time of the world, but time seemed to have come to an end…

Your eyes closed, as your breath slowed down, thinner and thinner. Your limbs even didn’t feel heavy anymore, you just felt so light, carried away by waves of placid darkness…

“I think I’ll sleep.” you managed to murmur, while your head plopped onto his chest. Bruno shook your limp form, his panic more and more evident and overwhelming.

“Y/N? Y/N?! Don’t close your eyes, Y/N, please, PLEASE!” you heard him scream, before darkness finally enveloped you, tearing you away from the useless pain of earthly world.

***

A faint, annoying bip disturbed you, making you frown lightly. What the hell was it…?

You groggily opened your eyes, feeling tired to the bones. Was your body always so heavy? You felt like you were knocked down by at least a hundred of cars, it was terrible…

“Y/N?” an incredulous whisper introduced itself between your bones’ pops and the annoying bips. You searched for the whisper’s source, faintly smiling when you finally met Bruno’s form, slumped on a chair near your bed. His eyes were dry, but still red and a bit puffy; dark circles marked his eyes and, in general, he seemed almost as tired as you. He seemed not to have slept for days.

“Bruno…” you murmured, your voice weak and broken. He immediately rushed at your side, squeezing your hand and frantically kissing your forehead and your cheeks, relieved beyond imagination.

“You’re finally awake, oh god, you’re awake…” he murmured, like a mantra, keeping you as close as all the flebo tubes in your arm allowed him to do so. You relied in his familiar warmth, laying your head on his shoulder, feeling at ease, at home. Even your body hurt less, now.

“I’m sorry I took so much time.” you replied, your voice muffled by the fabric of his jacket. He shook his head, keeping you safe and warm in his arms, like he didn’t want to leave you anymore.

“Don’t worry, you… you now have just to think about getting better, ok? It’ll go all well, you’ll be out of this place in days…” he said, bringing your hand to his face and kissing it, reverently, pressing his forehead on your palm. You softly passed your finger in his dark locks, massaging his scalp, with a little smile.

“I love you, Bruno, Thank you for staying here with me.” you whispered, while he watched you with amazement. It was the first time you said him that you loved him…

He gave you a watery smile, getting up to gently kiss you, caressing your cheek.

“I love you too, Y/N, even if you were so reckless. I can’t bear the thought of losing you.” he murmured, with a quiet yet vibrant voice. Those must have been terrible days, you realized, for him, sitting at your side, not knowing if you ever would wake up…

“Now rest, tesoro mio. I’ll be here.” he invited you, gently, sitting at your side and gently squeezing your hand, interweaving his fingers with yours. You smiled again, closing your eyes, with a tired sigh, slowly drifting away. This time, however, you were sure you were not going anywhere: Bruno’s warm hand was your light to always come back home.