#STOP ITS SO FUNNY SCAR IS SO SMALL

[solargeist]

the first thing desert duo did in vr was hug what if i explode and die

[fairytalelover33]

Are Those Tears?

Thorin x Female Reader

Prompt: When Thorin stares death in the face, you both realize your feelings for each other may be a little stronger than friendship.

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Some slight blood/gore, mentions of death, Thorin being a softie for once.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nothing could have prepared you for this journey. No amount of training would have sufficed. The whole company making it this far virtually intact was a miracle within itself. You had all survived attempt after attempt on your lives. It seemed that the odds of completing this journey were in your favor, having escaped each encounter with mere scrapes and bruises.

But this time you might not be so lucky.

The muscles in your arms and core ache, as you cling desperately to the branch of a fallen tree on the edge of a cliff, your legs dangling hundreds of feet above the ground. You can hear the grunts and bellows of your incapacitated comrades, confirming that they are in the same predicament as you. The snarls and howls of the Wargs add to the cacophony, making the hair on the back of your neck stand up. You realize that the only thing keeping the large predators and their riders from swooping in and slaughtering you all is the blazing fire surrounding the tree you all cling to. Azog the defiler sits astride a white Warg, pacing back and forth in front of the wall of flames separating them from you. You see Azog and his mutt pause in their pacing, the pale orc's scarred face hardening.

Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.

"Thorin, no!" Balin exclaims quietly. You lift your head as a large boot plants onto the tree trunk next to you. The figure makes his way past, through the flames, towards the pale orc. The long dark hair, peppered with streaks of grey, the broad shoulders, the determined stride. It was unmistakably Thorin.

No.

A sudden wave of desperation crashes over you, making your stomach turn. You just want to reach out and grab him, yank him back. You want to scream, to beg, to yell at him to just turn around. Your breathing becomes ragged, and one quiet word manages to claw its way out of your throat, repeating over and over under your breath, like a prayer waiting to be answered.

"No. No. No. No." Thorin's steps do not falter, his sword glinting in the light of the blazing inferno that lines his path. It feels as though the world is moving in slow motion as Thorin charges the pale orc, armed with his sword and his shield. His Oaken Shield. How life has a funny way of coming full circle. Azog the defiler guides his pale furred Warg in a mighty leap from the boulder he had been perched upon.

The blow dealt to Thorin as the white Warg collides with him in mid-air snaps you back to reality with a rush of dread. The force of the beasts bodyweight stops Thorin in his tracks, sending him crashing to earth. Reality sets in as you hear the rest of the company fighting the pull of gravity, straining to hold on to the strand of life that is this fallen tree.

Azog wheels his pale beast around, charging at Thorin once more, and sending a bone rattling blow of his mace to the dwarf's chest, knocking him back to the ground. A pang hits you directly in your heart, and flows through your bloodstream, some desperate feeling you can't quite place seeping into your very bones. You don't understand the feeling well enough to give it a name. All you know is that it gives you enough strength to muscle yourself up with a strangled cry, huffing and gritting your teeth as you clamber up to the trunk of the tree. You can barely feel the heat that burns the palms of your hands, red and raw from clinging to the rough bark of the tree branch.

The Hobbit, Bilbo, seems to have the same rush of bravery that you do, and you see his small form scramble up to the trunk of the tree, pausing to take one deep breath to right his turbulent mind before charging into the fray, armed with his little elvish knife.

The wretched hound of hell clamps its jaws around Thorin. The sickening sound of Thorin's ribs cracking reaches your ears, making your head swim. You can feel yourself call out his name in agony, but it sounds like someone else's voice is coming from your mouth as you stumble a few steps along the fallen tree. You right yourself in time to see the mutt toss Thorin like a farm dog tosses a snake, his form crashing onto a patch of hard rock on the hillside.

"(Y/N)!" Balin shouts as you start hauling it to where Thorin lays, hot on Bilbo's heels. "No, Lass! It's too dangerous!" No response comes from your lips, your mouth set in a grimace as you have a clear view out to where one of the Defilers minions is preparing to behead Thorin. He lies pinned upon the rocky ground, his breathing ragged, teeth clenched in defiance as he grasps around desperately for his sword.

You quickly overtake Bilbo, and with a muffled grunt you stiffen your shoulders, tackling the Orc with the force of your body weight, bowling it over. You can hear Azog's roar of dissent as you stop the orcs deadly blow mid swing. A sharp pain explodes like a lightning strike in your right shoulder, making you cry out. As you and the orc tumble away from Thorin, the filthy monster rolls atop you with a snarl, pinning you down. You struggle futilely beneath it, flailing like a madman, grasping for something, anything to protect yourself, and finding nothing. The orc raises its armored fist, pulling back to deliver a skull crushing blow.

Suddenly, the orc shrieks, blood spewing from its mouth, spraying you in the face. It falls to the side, revealing a fiery eyed Bilbo, delivering continuous blows with his small, but mighty blade. You gasp for air, viciously wiping your face with the sleeve of your tunic and scrambling away.

You crawl to the barely conscious form of Thorin, not caring about the rocks and twigs scraping your skin through the thin fabric of your clothing. Ignoring the shooting pain in your shoulder, you pull yourself up to your knees, cradling his head in your lap. His half-lidded gaze holds yours for a moment, as if trying to see into your very soul. A thin sheen of sweat coats his face as he murmurs a single word, before slipping into the warm embrace of unconsciousness.

"(Y/N)..." Thorin breathes out softly. If you had not been watching his lips move you would have assumed you imagined it. His eyes flicker shut, his ragged gasps slowing to shallow breaths. Tears well up in your eyes as you brush some of his sweat drenched hair from his regal face.

"Just hold on. Please." You whimper helplessly, gazing down at him. You look up to see the heart wrenching sight of Bilbo all alone, standing his ground as the monsters descend upon you, his hands shaking as he holds his sword at the ready. The hobbit plants his feet, swinging his sword wildly around in an attempt to intimidate the foes before him. Sparks fly from the burning portion of forest that surrounds you, and you feel a deep sadness, wondering if this is truly the end of your adventure.

You take another moment to gaze down at Thorin. You trace his face with your eyes, trying to memorize every feature and contour. Running your thumb over his cheekbone in a way you would have never been brave enough to do before, a sigh escapes your lips. With a shaky breath, you lean down, hesitating for a moment before pressing a feather soft kiss to his forehead, holding back the tears that threaten to spill. Wishing more than anything that you had been brave enough to tell him how you feel, you now vow to not go down a weeping, helpless mess. You hold back your tears, forcing yourself to stare defiantly back at the group of vicious carnivores that approach the three of you.

One of the Wargs snaps its head to the side, sniffing the air. A sudden battle cry makes you start, and you whip your gaze in the direction of the commotion. Your spirit lifts as the unmistakable figures of Fili and Kili come charging in from a gap in the flames, tailed closely by Dwalin. They attack the Wargs and their riders swiftly, slicing and hacking with their weapons. You try to get up to help, but your energy is sapped from wrestling the Orc. You opt to be a close-range protector to Thorin, crouching in front of him, your fingers wrapping around the hilt of his sword that you spotted lying a few feet away.

A vicious noise that you didn't know you were capable of making tears its way through your throat as a Warg stalks toward Thorin with a snarl. You grip the hilt of the sword tighter, your knuckles white as you prepare to fight tooth and nail to protect Thorin. You shift on your feet as you crouch low, poised to spring up and drive the blade straight through the roof of the beasts' mouth and into its brain.

Before you get the chance, a giant flurry of wind and feathers scoops up the Warg, the beast yelping as it is hurled unceremoniously from the cliffside. You scramble back slightly, your mouth falling open as you look to the sky in disbelief and slight fear.

Eagles bigger than you have ever seen circle the cliffs edge, swooping in to snatch and dispose of the Wargs and their riders. Some of the mighty birds use the wind from their wings to fan the flames that burn the forest, singeing a group of mutts. You feel a moment of peace, but it doesn't last long. Your eyes widen slightly, terror etching your face as one of the birds makes a beeline for you.

"Wait. Wait! WAIT!" You shriek, as the giant bird envelops you in its claws. The fur of Thorin's jacket, which you had been holding on to, slips from your grasp as the creature tosses you off the edge of the cliff. You tumble through the air, screaming bloody murder, before landing with a thud on the back of another eagle, knocking the wind out of you slightly. You curse under your breath as you gasp for air, trying to regain your bearings. Your eyes scan around, realizing that every member of the company was either caged safely in the claws of one of the Avians, or sat comfortably atop one.

You hear a rage filled roar in the distance as the eagles whisk you all away. You feel a pit in your stomach, realizing that Azog is still alive, and you know that he will never stop hunting down the line of Durin. Your stomach drops as your worried mind flickers back to Thorin. You try to spot him, your eyes scanning each of the birds. The morning sun makes it nearly impossible, partially blinding you. You tuck your face into the soft feathers you sit upon, tears pricking your eyes as you pray the eagles will land soon.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Groggily lifting your bruised and battered head, you scan around, realizing the eagles are making their descent. They all circle slowly down, landing atop a rocky spire, where you can see for miles around. Your eagle lands last, and your heart drops as you see Thorin lying still upon the flat ground, the company standing around him. You slide down from the back of the eagle, crumpling slightly as your legs hit the ground. Fili and Kili appear at your side almost instantly, supporting you under your arms as you try to regain your balance. You wince as Kili bumps your shoulder, hissing through your teeth.

"Are you alright, (Y/N)?" Kili asks in concern, releasing your arm slightly.

"Yes, I just... never mind me." You tear your eyes away from Thorin, finding Bilbo a few feet away. You pull away from the brothers, limping over to hug Bilbo. "Thank you." You whisper, pulling back and meeting Bilbo's gaze. He nods, and nothing else needs to be said. Bilbo is smart enough to be able to read the emotion behind your eyes. Your hand rests on his shoulder, and you both smile softly before you turn your gaze back to Thorin.

Gandalf kneels beside Thorin, his hand hovering over his face as he murmurs some spell over his unconscious form. You can feel the tears of desperation welling up in your eyes as you look on helplessly, silently begging whatever God is listening to please, let him live. You can feel yourself shaking as the company waits with bated breath. Then, his eyes finally flutter open, the dwarf drawing a deep breath.

Hot tears fall from your eyes, and you don't bother to stop them. You feel as though a weight has been lifted from your shoulders. He lives. He clambers to his feet, aided by Dwalin and Kili. He shakes them off, the angry look on his face surprising you all. He locks eyes with you, before flickering his gaze to Bilbo.

"You two." Thorin says in an accusing tone, glaring at the both of you. A confused look crosses your face, the rest of the company looking on.

"What were you doing?" Thorin snaps. "You nearly got yourselves killed!" Your eyes lock onto his, and you don't bother wiping the tears from your face as you stand bewildered.

"Did I not say that you would be a burden?" Thorin hisses, stalking towards you. "That you would not survive in the wild? That you had no place amongst us?" You hold his gaze, teary eyed as he looks between yourself and Bilbo, seemingly berating you. He pauses for a moment, the rest of the company sharing glances in disbelief.

Emotion suddenly takes over Thorin's face. "I have never been so wrong, in all my life." He steps forward, embracing Bilbo, patting him on the back. You could almost laugh at the look of shock on Bilbo's face as he tentatively returns his hug. Thorin pulls back, meeting Bilbos eyes with an apologetic look. "I am sorry I doubted you."

Thorin's eyes turn to you, his face softening as he looks at your tear-stained face. He takes the few steps to close the distance between you. The company becomes rather quiet as he silently approaches, his eyes never leaving your face. He stops in front of you, pausing, and you sniffle slightly, looking down at your feet, too embarrassed to meet his gaze. Your heart stops as his rough hand rises to your face, gently tilting your chin up, forcing you to look at him. His eyes search yours, his thumb brushing over your cheek as he wipes away a fresh tear.

"Are those tears, Amrâlimê?" Thorin murmurs, making your heart skip a beat. He brings his other hand to your face, wiping away the rest of your tears, even as your eyes well up more. "No more of those." He says quietly, leaning forward and nuzzling his nose against yours gently, before pulling back to press a lingering kiss to your forehead. "Are you alright? Are you hurt?" He murmurs, his eyes scanning your form. His hand still cupping your jaw gently. You shake your head, your eyes locked on his. Kili speaks up at your lie, knowing you are indeed hurt.

"She hurt her right shoulder." Kili says, before falling silent with an apologetic look. You glare at him, sighing in defeat as Thorin calls over Oin to take a look at your shoulder.

"What about you? You definitely need to be checked out, Thorin." You say sternly as thorin guides you to sit on a rock a few feet away. A small smile graces his face.

"I appreciate your concern. But you come first." He says softly, making you blush profusely. He gives a nod to Oin before stepping away to speak with Gandalf. Fili and Kili make their way over to you, giving each other a knowing look. You narrow your eyes at them before tugging on Kili's sleeve, making him kneel down to your level on the hard ground as Oin examines your shoulder.

"Kili, what does... Amrâlimê mean?" You ask inquisitively, as you know minimal Khuzdul. The brothers share another look, smiling at each other.

"You will find out in time." Kili says cryptically, standing up with a grin after giving you a pat on the back. You give him an exasperated look, cursing as Oin adjusts your shoulder. The brothers turn away with smirks plastering their faces, leaving you to ponder what Thorin could possibly have said.

[homesick4la]

the drive-in — hamzahthefantastic

summary: after being just friends for a while, one night at a drive-in theater changes everything.

contains: smoking, making out

a/n: i haven’t written anything in literally two years but the hamzah edits have brought me back to writing fan fiction…. also i did not proofread sorry…im lazy!

after bringing down all the seats in hamzah’s car and spreading several throw blankets around, the two of you laid comfortably in the back. you had convinced him to take you to the drive-in to see the newest addition to the “x” trilogy- “maxxxine”, promising that you’d help him edit his next youtube video.

as the movie begins, you two settle underneath a large blanket, laying just a foot apart. hamzah pulls out the small weed pen that always seemed to be in his pocket. without saying a word, he instinctually hands you the pen and turns to look at you. he’d always enjoyed watching as you’d bring the small device to your lips and gently blow out the smoke. in the past, he’d told you that he liked to watch you smoke because the way you coughed after each hit was funny.

the reality was that he just found you so fucking pretty. he couldn’t help but stare at the way your soft lips pursed together and your cheeks hollowed out when you sucked from the pen. and he absolutely loved the big smile you’d give him while trying to contain your cough.

“god this thing is so burnt”, you chuckle, handing it back to him.

“i know, i’m gonna get a new one tomorrow so we can finish this one tonight.” hamzah explained before taking a hit. you admired him as he closed his eyes and tilted his head back before releasing the smoke from his mouth. god he was so hot. you’d always found him attractive and smoking made those thoughts in your head grow louder.

after passing the pen back and forth for a while, you two could no longer focus on the thriller movie playing in front of you- the weed making you both so giggly and talkative.

“bro remember when you fell at the fair,” hamzah says, out of breath from laughing at the memory.

“stop, that was so bad! i literally still have a scar from that, look!” you lift your forearm to his eye level, revealing a small, red scar near your elbow.

his fingers trace the small scar. “you only had half a white claw and it had you falling over”, he laughs.

“shut up- i tripped on your big ass foot and you know it.”

“yeah, yeah, whatever- hey what’s even going on right now?” he gestures to the movie.

“i have no clue.” your reply, sending you both into a laughing fit. as your laughter begins to fade, you turn to look back at hamzah. the moment you two make eye contact, his smile fades. he stares and stares and stares. leaving you in a confusing, unnerving silence.

“uh- well even though we’re not even watching the movie, thank you for doing this with me.” you break the silence, giving him a small smile. “i’ve had a pretty shitty week, so i needed this.”

“yeah me too.” his voice is soft, quieter than before. “i always feel better when i’m around you.”

you smile. you weren’t used to hamzah saying sweet things like that- you two were always so unserious when talking.

“i- uh i’ve always liked being around you and talking with you,” he looked around nervously. “and i always thought we’d be just friends but y/n, i like you. i like you- not just in a friend way.” he admitted- the weed making him feel a little bolder than usual.

you giggle, “thank god because i’ve had the most embarrassing crush on you for so long.”

hamzah’s eyes light up, “and you never said anything?” he laughs.

“no, i was scared you didn’t like me like that!”

he smiles widely, “i like you like that.” he reassures.

you start retelling the story about when you guys first met, revealing that you had liked him ever since then. his eyes are locked on yours- occasionally glancing down at your lips. as you’re talking, his hand finds its way to yours- gently laying on top of it. it lingers there for a few seconds before tracing up your arm. his cold fingertips drag along your forearm, all the way up to your shoulder, and to the side of your neck. eventually, he places his hand on your cheek. he rubs his thumb back and forth as you continue talking, but you soon go quiet. his touch causing you to lose your train of thought.

you stare into his big brown eyes- smiling at what a sweet moment this was.

“y/n, can i kiss you?” hamzah said softly. a light nervous chuckle echoed at the end. you nodded quickly, looking up at him through glossy eyes.

he wasted no time connecting his lips with yours. his hands cradled your face as he kissed you softly.

the kiss was innocent. slow and sweet. but as you grew comfortable, it became apparent that there was a certain hunger within both of you.

his hands move from your face down to your waist. he pulls you in closer, pressing your bodies together.

you part your lips slightly, allowing his tongue to slip into your mouth effortlessly. his hands grab ahold of your hips before shifting your bodies so he could hover on top of you.

the kisses get messier and messier. he pulls away, planting a kiss on your jaw.

“been..waiting..for this..for s’ long.” he says between the kisses he’s leaving along the side of your neck.

you hum as he continues kissing down to your collarbone. you grip onto his biceps as his fingers slide under the thin straps of your tank top.

just before he can continue, a loud scream erupts from the screen. being brought back to reality, the two of you stop. the thought of you two hooking up at a drive-in move like teenagers makes the both of you laugh.

he lays down aside you once again, draping his arm over your shoulder. “we’ll continue this later- without the sounds of people getting murdered in the background y’know.”

“yeah i’d like that”, you smile. “but take me out to dinner first.” you tease.

“oouu,” he chuckles at your comment. “we’ll go wherever you want.” he states before planting a kiss to your temple and turning his attention to the movie.

a/n- i feel like this is so bad and cringe and kinda short.…i just may never write again….jk…but seriously don’t judge i haven’t written in forever jus wanted to write something for funsies

let me know if u guys want more k bye muah

[omiangelic]

shared moments (dabi)

a handful of shared moments between you and your maybe more than friend, touya todoroki, the flame villain.

this is a prequel to the first fic i posted, pheonix, but it could be read as a standalone !

wc: 2.8k

reader is not described but is implied to have a quirk that makes them colder. i also imply that they're a nurse who frequently works with burn patients, including dabi's victims.

cw: 18+ ONLY !!! no smut, just kissing, grinding, and shirts come off but it ends pretty quickly after that. dabi accidentally wounds reader (a small burn from trying to wake him from a nightmare), mentions of abuse, murder, dying, and nausea. soft yet emotionally stunted and avoidant dabi

playlist: maybe by flower face, zombie by everglow, voidstar and longlegs by grim salvo

He’s shaking, head in your lap. You think he might be crying, but his hands are covering his face as he curls up as tight as he can. Dabi didn’t usually spend the night, but on rare occasion you can wrangle him into sleeping a few hours before running off who knows where. Tonight had been fun, daresay cozy, watching bad movies under a blanket so you could use him as a space heater and he could use you as an icepack.

It’s near four in the morning, far past when he usually sneaks out of your tiny apartment, when you awoke to his distress. He’d been squirming on his side of your too-small bed, mumbling and whimpering unconsciously. Even now, you don’t think he’s realized the small burn on your arm from trying to wake him, but you don’t move to soothe it; you’re too busy trying to soothe him. You rub his side over his shirt and pet a hand through his spiky hair even though he’s long since stopped shaking. You pretend you don’t care you have work in a few hours.

Now, he’s completely motionless, arms fallen to the cushion of the mattress. His voice is raspier than normal when he finally speaks, “…Sorry about that.”

“’S okay. I’ve seen worse.”

You both know he’s caused your ‘worse’.

“Do you wanna tell me what’s going on up here?” You tap your fingers softly against his temple. It’s a miracle he hasn’t moved yet.

“Don’t think that’s something you’d wanna hear about.”

“You can tell me anyways,” you can practically hear him go over the notion in his head. You met almost a year and you hardly know anything about the man besides his preferred snacks and the types of movies he likes to make fun of.

He thinks for a bit before stating, “you’ve never asked about my scars.”

You hum in agreement. The healed tissue is naturally textured but worsened from insufficient aftercare. The skin grafts look like they were done by someone with medical experience, at least. “Were you dreaming about when you got them?” The scar tissue on his face always made it look like the flames had tried to take him in its hands; like it wanted to soothe him. Console him. You want to do the same.

“Kinda,” he says after another long pause, like he’s trying to find the words, “maybe more like ‘why’.”

He can’t see you frown at that. You don’t like the implication it carries.

He’s quiet for a long time while you brush through his hair. It’s gotten longer- you think you can see blonde roots peak through the inky black.

“My old man…real shit guy,” he takes in a shaky breath and subtly curls deeper into your lap, “I’m gonna kill him one day.”

(You didn’t think he was serious, then.)

“All he cares about is power. He bought my ma so he could create a child more powerful than him. I’m the oldest of four- and his biggest failure,” you wince at the way he chuckles, “It’s funny. He got what he wanted. My youngest brother is a prodigy. He’s one of the top students at U.A.,” Dabi stops again, like he has to prepare himself for what he’s about to say, “I hated that kid for so long. Tried to kill him when he was a toddler, wanted to prove I was better than him. When I was twelve or thirteen I told dear old dad I got stronger,” another pause “He didn’t care,” another pause, like he’s debating telling you the rest at all, “I burned down half a forest, woke up three years later. The fucker who fixed me up showed me pictures of my funeral and everything. Ma got institutionalized not long after…but I gave myself a new name, since I died that day.”

“What was his name?” You ask impulsively. You wish you could take those words back, stuff them in your mouth and swallow them down

“Who’s?” He looks up.

“The boy who died.”

Dabi looks away again, contemplates before relenting, “Touya. Touya Todoroki”

“Touya sounds like a sweet kid. I hope he’s resting easy.”

It’s like the words flipped a switch in him. He shoots to sit up straight. His eyes are angry. Scared.

“You don’t know shit about him.”

“That’s not the point.”

He gets up, paces the length of the bed a few times, stops, looks at the ground, “You don’t know what you’re talking about. You don’t know shit about me.”

“And whose fault is that?” You really need to learn when to shut your stupid mouth.

He looks up. Sees you fully for the first time since waking. He can see the welt he caused on your arm in his post-nightmare panic. His anger dies. His eyes widen. You reach to slap your hand over it to shield it from view, but he has his jeans on and his jacket and boots in hand before you can find words to say. He’s out the door before you can ask him not to leave.

(You call out of work that day. You won’t hear from him for three weeks.)

Later that day, the search results for Touya Todoroki hurt as bad as you expected them to. There aren’t many paparazzi pictures of him, only a handful of him with his dad at award ceremonies.

His dad. Pro hero Endeavor.

The news coverage of his son’s death is minimal, and it’s mostly about Endeavor taking a leave of absence from hero duties to grieve with his family, but the obituary is public. The white haired boy in the picture looks so young. It’s not very detailed aside from denoting that his funeral was a private ceremony.

You open a new tab and search for fire related quirk malfunctions or natural disasters from around the same time. Its not hard to narrow down that the forest fire that destroyed Sekoto Peak was Dabi’s doing. The flames had been massive and unnaturally hot, nearly impossible to contain. There was barely anything left besides charred bone fragments from wildlife and the partial jawbone of the only human casualty they could find. The victim is unnamed, but it says the police were able to identify them through dental records and bring closure to the family.

There’s a handful of pictures of Endeavor at the scene. They make your stomach churn.

A third tab. Endeavor. There are news articles about his most recent achievements and a few about his youngest son, Shoto, who recently passed the entrance exams into U.A., just like Dabi said.

You feel nauseous.

It’s so comfy laying here wrapped around him like a koala. He’s cold and hot at the same time. There’s one hand cradling the back of your head to his chest while the other rubs your back over the blanket he draped over you.

You don’t usually let him in when work gets you like this. He’s usually the cause, being the most prolific fire quirked villain in the country, but you felt like you needed him today. A little boy had come in with his parents after his first quirk manifestation. All you could see was a young Touya Todoroki when you looked at him. Now all you feel is the pain you feel for the real thing who has you cradled in his arms like you’re more than maybe a friend.

Dabi is prickly when it comes to touch- despite the nerve damage, his scars are sensitive- but for you, he makes exceptions, especially since this is his first time seeing you since his meltdown last month. When he woke up in his dingy-ass apartment today, he knew he had to see you, knew something was wrong. His gut was right. You practically collapsed crying in his arms when you opened the door.

You’ve barely said anything since he’s settled the two of you down on your bed. Every time he thinks about saying something, you burrow impossibly closer into his chest like if you try hard enough you can crawl in his ribs and clean out all the ash and soot that make him up.

He wants to apologize for how he left. He wants to tell you he was scared, that he’s still scared, because he’s never let anyone get close the way you have, and he doesn’t know why he yearns for you to be closer. It’s the only time he ever wishes things had gone differently. If he was closer to a normal guy, less of one of the most wanted villains in the country, maybe he’d let himself be happy to be known by you.

But the only thing Dabi can do is destroy. He burns too hot to be anyone’s light.

Dabi is ruthless. He’s a monster, a villain, a killer; there’s nothing that could clean the blood from his hands.

That doesn’t stop him from pretending things are different, even if just for a moment. You’re naturally cooler to the touch and he finds it hard to imagine ever choosing to be anywhere but in your arms. It’s such an unfamiliar feeling.

Dabi’s never had to comfort someone before. He’s never really wanted to, either.

He isn’t one to be soft or kind or comforting. It’s all so confusing. How do you drag this out of him? Why is he so content with this moment? Something about you makes him different. He doesn’t know what to do with that.

He’s scared. He’s angry. He’s unhappy.

You pull yourself away from him completely, scooting to lay on your back on the other side of your bed.

“Sorry,” you mumble, “you can go now. That was probably really uncomfortable for you. You can leave now, if you want.”

Your eyes are so empty. He’s never seen you like this. He doesn’t know what to do. He thinks he wants to stay, make his last visit up to you with more time tonight, but would you rather he go? Should he ask about what upset you? This is so new to him.

He leaves.

The next time he’s over, you pretend to not notice the tension in the air. You move around in your usual sync, gathering snacks and scrolling through the worst rated movies you can find. You feign obliviousness to the way his eyes linger on you for longer than usual and curl up on the opposite side of the choice from him, like the months of slowly shifting closer to each other didn’t happen.

The jokes are bored and the laughs are empty.

He doesn’t spend the night. You don’t ask him to. He doesn’t know why he feels so hollowed out when he leaves.

A few weeks later, after watching movies and ignoring elephants in rooms, you fall asleep. Dabi waits, lets whatever’s playing continue to run while he watches you breathe in and out at a steady rhythm.

The credits roll. He turns off the T.V. and welcomes the darkness lit only by the city as he gets up to lay you down on your little couch. He’s never done this for you before- he doesn’t know why he’s doing it now. Your eyes flutter open as he kisses your forehead and tucks you into your blanket you keep out here.

(He did it without thinking, like it was natural, a habit. He was a big brother, once. He hadn’t realized that part of him survived.)

You look up at him as he stares down at you, eyebrows furrowed at his surprised expression. His eyes flicker to your lips without his permission. He’s already leaning over you, it’d be so easy to crawl on top of you, kiss you, wherever and however you want.

He doesn’t know what possesses him to do it. Maybe it’s Himiko’s insistence he grow up and take the risk, maybe it’s a moment of weakness where he allows himself to forget who and what he is, but he’s pressing a soft kiss to your lips without realizing. The contact makes your head jerk back, eyes wide in shock, surprise, wonder. You look at him like there’s something worthy of being looked at. His mouth moves to apologize, but you’re shooting your hands to hold his scarred cheeks and pressing you lips to his before he can try. Your skin is so cold against his had surprised at the lack of steam. He thinks you’re the prettiest thing he’s ever seen.

He doesn’t reciprocate in his shock. His response is even further delayed by the fact that he’s never done this before. He feels like a teenager- or what he imagines what being a teenager under more normal circumstances would allow him. As you move to pull away, afraid you’ve somehow overstepped, Dabi is snapped out of his shock, and he’s pulling you back in. His kiss is messy, wet, spit slick as his tongue licks into your mouth with no hesitation. The taste of his urgency is unexpected but he feels so incredible you can hardly stand it. You revel in the way his dull nails bite into your skin when you whimper at the sensation.

His hands are heavy as they make their way down your body, nearly pushing like he needs a constant reminder that this is real. Before you know it, he’s on the couch, on top of you, pushing at your shirt and you’re pulling it over your head in compliance. Dabi takes the moment to yank off his own; his torso is a marble of normal and scarred skin with a shiny barbell through each nipple. You wonder briefly if the metal is hot like the rest of his skin as his lips crash back into yours. One hand in your hair, the other on your waist- he’s pushing you down, pulling you in, until he's all but crushing you in his desperation.

You moan when he lets up, “Dabi-“

“No, no- don’t call me that. I don’t want to feel like a villain with you,” he’s equally breathless, practically heaving above you.

“…Touya?”

Your uncertainty is immediately discarded when he fully moans at the sound of his given name on your lips, “yes, yes, thank you-“ and he’s kissing you again, cradling your face like you’re porcelain but grinding down like you’re the farthest thing from fragile.

His grip tightens when the pressure of his hips makes you moan.

The weight of his body makes you dizzy. His lips and hands move down your neck, licking, biting, and sucking at all the skin newly exposed to him and it feels so good you don’t now what to do with yourself. You decide on shoving your hands in his hair; you’re pulling it at the root when he bites down next, and he’s moaning into your throat like it might kill him to be quiet.

What does he want from me? The question crashes through your brain like a bullet. You don’t know if you want to actually ask. Would it be so bad to let this happen, just to have him close like this? Is the burden of wanting from afar easier to carry than having him halfway? Yes. Of course it is.

Your sudden unresponsiveness stills him. He pulls away to find your eyes distant and face neutral.

“Touya?” You ask after a silent minute filled with his thumbs rubbing circles in your waist, “what did that mean? To you, for us?”

He gulps, “I don’t know.”

He hadn’t thought this far ahead. He hadn’t thought at all.

“You don’t know,” you echo.

He’s off you before you can decide what to make of his answer.

“Sorry, don’t know why I did that- sorry,” you think you hear as he fumbles around for his coat and his boots. You don’t say anything. You don’t even look at him. Instead, you focus on the ceiling it’s almost too dark to see. You think you hear him pause at your door, but your head is so loud and intelligible you aren’t paying attention.

The static doesn’t block out the sound of your front door shutting, though.

(Neither of you realize he left his shirt behind until after he’s already out the door. You pretend you resist the urge to cuddle it to catch his scent on it, and he will pretend he doesn’t imagine you doing just that.)

Ever the coward, Touya runs. He throws up his shame once he’s in his own apartment. He knows he shouldn’t have left. He didn’t want to- but he didn’t know how to stay either.

He hates himself more than he has in a long time for tonight.

His burner buzzes in his pocket. It’s Shigaraki. plans in motion.

He doesn’t think you’ll forgive him for doing this, but it’s been building since before he met you. It’s not like he has any sort of life or future to look forward to anyways. It’s not like he gives you much to miss anyways.

Soon. Endeavor’s head. Soon.

dividers by @/issysh3ll and @/thecutestgrotto

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[kaiser1ns]

#. RUN DEVIL RUN

featuring 𝘁𝗮𝗸𝗶𝗶𝘀𝗵𝗶 𝗰𝗵𝗶𝗸𝗮 𝘅 𝗳𝗲𝗺!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿 𝘅 𝘂𝗺𝗲𝗺𝗶𝘆𝗮 𝗵𝗮𝗷𝗶𝗺𝗲

fluff + angst + suggestive. you were drawn to takiishi chika's dangerous nature, despite knowing he was bad news. the relationship turned toxic, leading you to run away from the devil and move on with the loving angel, umemiya hajime.

inspired by ke$ha's "run devil run" , first time writing something that suggestive, spare me !

You always knew he was a bad boy and used to think that it was cool. The very first thing you liked about him was how he made his way through your heart, and at the same time you hated it, this strange feeling that only he made you feel. He was a mess, a burning flame that could consume everything in its path, but for you, it kept you warm.Takiishi Chika only cared for himself and didn't keep anyone in his heart. But as you embraced that same flame within your palms, you realized how much you liked to play with fire. The big and threatening blaze was turning into a small spark when you entered his life. He loved you, he made a place in his heart just for you — to stay in and never leave.

You wished the relationship had gone as smoothly as the first three months, but after a long year, it was toxic and suffocating. He would destroy everything and everyone that touched or watched you for more than a second. Poor people and one guy just wanted to take your coffee order, and you never saw him at work again. Your friends distanced themselves, your parents met him once and didn't liked him, telling you that he wasn't a good person, but you never listened, you never did in the first place. You were too focused on the fireworks in the sky, not seeing from where they were launching.

People from the outside wondered how you managed to get a guy like him utterly obsessed with you. Some who didn't attend your university or know you, made those sweet comments about you—the angel and the devil, a perfect match. Things weren't getting any better. You never knew about his red horns as you never saw his evil scars, you chose to ignore them. He used to be what you lived for, but then he went and stabbed your heart. Chika broke your heart. Jealousy and possessiveness, lead to an obsession — leaving you with red and purple marks all over your body, to tell and to show that you were his. And you were embarrassed to show up, knowing the people closest to you were right. So you decided to end it, to run away from the devil. If he got aggressive, so be it—you would die happy, even if it was from his hands.

It was after classes when you said, "I'm breaking up with you." He did nothing but stare into your eyes, into your soul with his yellow eyes burning like the sun. And he left. Huh? You expected a different outcome. Then you went to your dorm, happy and single, as everything you had with him was already gone—burned or to the trash. The next day, you woke up to news about beaten up or nearly killed people. So he took his anger out on the innocent once again. Loser. You barely saw him at the university, thinking he may have dropped out. Who knows? You didn't care anymore. 

That's what you told your new boyfriend of six months, Umemiya Hajime, with tears in your eyes as he listened, holding your hand. He was the definition of an angel—funny, caring, and loving—nothing compared to Chika. It was refreshing to be with someone who deeply cared and looked out for you in a manner that was acceptable in society, no violence just pure love. Your new amazing boyfriend told you not to worry; if he ever came around, he would protect you. But you forgot to add the detail that Takiishi hated Umemiya. 

As you continued the walk around the mall, hand in hand, checking shops here and there when you spotted two extremely familiar people—one with long red hair and yellow ombre, the other with short wavy black hair. You stopped dead in your tracks, squeezing Umemiya's hand so he could stop too. “What's wrong, sweetheart?” and you whispered that it was nothing. You remembered that there was an item you wanted from the first floor. “Let's go check the magazines downstairs, there was something I wanted to buy.” 

Shit, shit, shit. What was your ex with his best friend doing here? You wouldn't mistake that red hair for anything in the world. What were Takiishi Chika and Endo Yamato doing here of all places? And the tattooed fool was probably shit-talking you again, and you wondered if your ex still cared about you to make him shut up with a punch to his face. 

It was late in the evening, when you were getting ready to go to the cinema with your new friends, and Hajime was in your living room watching TV. You came out of the room looking so cute and pretty, with the jacket he bought you, and, oh the pink skirt. To say he was in love would be an understatement. Your boyfriend got up, excited because he loved when you showed him your outfits. "You look so pretty, baby! So sad I can't go to your little girls' gathering," he said pouting but at the same checking you out as he put his hands on your waist and kissed you. You smiled into the kiss, feeling his smile too, but you pulled back, saying you would be late. "Have fun, my love!"

Before you could step away, his fingers gently tightened around your waist, drawing you back towards him. His eyes were full of adoration, it was so pure and gentle. "Just one more kiss for goodbye," he murmured, his voice a soft plea that sent you to Heaven and back.

You couldn't resist. Leaning in, you captured his lips once more, this time allowing the kiss to linger, deepening it slightly. The taste of his affection was like something you always longed for, making your heart race and your cheeks flush. His warmth enveloped you, making you momentarily forget about the time.

When you finally pulled away, breathless, Hajime's eyes were fixed on yours, filled with a tenderness that made your heart swell. "You always take my breath away," he whispered, a soft chuckle escaped your lips as you playfully nudged him. "If I stay any longer, I'll miss the whole movie," you teased, though part of you wished you could stay wrapped in his embrace forever.

He sighed dramatically, letting his hands slide down your arms until he was holding your hands. "Alright, alright. Go have fun with your friends. But promise me you'll think of me!" he said, his eyes searching yours for reassurance. You squeezed his hands, feeling a surge of affection for the man standing before you. 

"I promise," you said softly, planting a final, kiss on his lips and walked out the door.

The club was nice—loud music, drinks, people getting drunk or high. You didn't want to lie to Umemiya, but it was already done in the past, future, or present. The clothes you wore an hour ago were hidden in the mailbox, and only you had the key. You excused yourself from the random group of friends you met once you got here. When there weren't many people, someone held your hand. It was none other than Endo Yamato—your ex's best friend. 

"So you came after all," he said, a smirk playing on his lips. He hated you, as much as you hated him. “And why wouldn't I?” You threw a little fight, talking back like lions dominating for territory. Then a third voice joined the party.

"Leave her alone." The devil himself—Takiishi Chika—appeared right behind you, putting his arm around your waist. Your attention immediately shifted to him as you felt his grip tighten possessively. “Ah, yes Takiishi. She is all yours.” Endo left the VIP room, a space he had specifically reserved, knowing exactly how much Takiishi wanted you.

You didn't know how it happened, but he kissed you with so much hunger, anger... and lust. "You are so obsessed with me, aren't ya?" you taunted, noticing how your lipstick had transferred to his lips. Red was definitely his color.

He didn't answer; both of you already knew it. Instead, he slammed you against the wall, making you hiss from the impact. But the pain was a distant concern, overshadowed by the powerful effect you had on Takiishi Chika. He began kissing your neck, trailing down your jaw and collarbone, his hands playing with the hem of your dress, which was his favorite one.

It was over. His hands explored your body, knowing every weak spot, his touch warm and almost burning. Pretty sounds escaped your lips, more pleasing and angelic than anything, a melody composed only for him to create and for him to hear.

His breath was hot against your skin as his lips traced a path down to your collarbone. He paused, his eyes meeting yours with an intensity that made your heart race. "You're mine," he whispered, his voice low and rough, pulling you closer, his hands roaming more boldly; touch was hot like a fire, sending waves of pleasure through your body. You arched against him, craving more of his heat, more of him.

Takiishi's lips found yours again, this kiss more demanding, more possessive. He tasted like danger and desire, a combination that made your knees weak. His hands slid under your dress, and you gasped as he lifted you slightly, pinning you more firmly against the wall. His touch was everywhere, consuming you, leaving you breathless and wanting. The intensity of his gaze, the roughness of his voice, the possessiveness of his grip—all of it was intoxicating.

Every brush of his lips, every caress of his fingers, was his way to show his need for you, his unwavering claim. He kissed a path from your mouth to your ear, his breath hot and tantalizing. "Mine," he repeated, the word a command, a vow. His hands gripped your hips, pulling you even closer, and you could feel his heart pounding in time with yours.

"Say it," he growled against your lips, his eyes full of hate, love, anger, as the closer you got to the sun, the more it burned you — tempting you to sin.

"I'm yours," you breathed, barely recognizing your own voice. The words seemed to unlock something in him, and he kissed you harder, deeper as if he could never get enough. Every touch, every kiss was a claim, marking you as his as you always were. With each passing second, you felt yourself surrendering more completely, losing yourself in the overwhelming sensation. “And you are mine, Takiishi~”

Where is the sweet girl now? Why are you doing this to Umemiya? Why are you doing this to yourself? Ah, your stupid brain asking those questions in the back of your mind again. You didn't care about Umemiya. What you wanted all this time was him, Takiishi Chika. Pretty messed up to have a new boyfriend you didn't love just to sneak behind his back and make your ex jealous... and pretty messed up that you were the devil all this time.

©2024 kaiser1ns do not copy, repost or modify my work

[dustofthedailylife]

How to Steal the Duke's Heart 101 (2)

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Pairing: Wriothesley x (gn!) Reader

Summary: After Wriothesley managed to get you back out of prison again you wanted to go back to living your life. However, things wouldn't go so smoothly, especially since you missed the man you had grown to love during your time in the Fortress. However, maybe fate is smiling down on you for once...

Tags: Fluff, lots of kissing, you were in prison (but innocent), swearing, french kissing (we're in France after all)

A/N: People asked for a Chapter 2 - I got an idea - here we are. Hope you enjoy and thanks for the crazy support on part 1 ;_; <3

In the following days, you stayed in the Infirmary. Your concussion and the accompanying migraine flare-ups made it hard to do anything but lie in bed with closed eyes. 

Sigewinne, who was introduced to you as the head nurse, took care of you during the time you were at the Infirmary. And she religiously made sure that you didn’t leave the bed under any circumstance. She came by twice a day with some funny-tasting shakes which, despite their flavor, worked like a charm against your headache.

Wriothesley also stopped by at least once a day, no matter how occupied he had been around the Fortress otherwise. And every time he walked through the door with confident steps, and pulled a chair by your bedside, your heart was about to burst straight out of your chest. Even more so when he leaned closer to you to press a fleeting kiss to your lips as if it was second nature now.

Both you and him often stayed up late to chat the night away and tonight was no exception to that.

You were leaning against the headboard of the bed, and he was sitting on the opposite side of the bed with his back leaned against the footrest himself. He had brought a thermos flask filled with freshly brewed tea and two cups over to the Infirmary and you were both happily sipping away on it together. A small smile was displayed on his lips as he engaged in conversations with you – just like you had always done while dining together at the Cafeteria. There was just this unspoken feeling of comfort in the room whenever you could spend time with him and you wished it would last forever.

“How are you feeling? Getting any better?” Wriothesley inquired, tapping two fingers against his temple, symbolizing the location of the pain he was speaking about.

“Yeah. Yeah, I think it’s getting better finally. Sigewinne’s shakes and potions definitely helped–”

“You can actually drink them?” He chuckled, the corners of his eyes crinkling upwards.

“They’re definitely not good, I won’t lie. They taste like seaweed and sand. It’s like–”

“Like you ate an entire beach and every time you close your mouth it feels like you’re grinding dirt between your teeth.” He finished the sentence for you with another low chuckle that made your heart skip a beat.

“Exactly! How do you–?”

“Well, let’s just say I’ve been on the receiving end of these shakes a couple of times myself.” He smirked, took a sip of tea from the metal cup in his hands, and sighed. “But tea is infinitely better.”

“Oh, without a shadow of a doubt. I agree.”

A comfortable silence settled between you as you each quietly sipped on your tea. You eventually find your eyes wandering across his form - his broad chest and shoulders, to the sliver of skin showing below his neck. Even though he was trying to cover it up with black belts, the deep scars that evidently littered his skin couldn’t be hidden fully. The same applied to the scar right below his enchanting eyes.

Especially the scars around his neck looked like they came from a wound that would take a miracle to heal and recover from and you couldn’t help but wonder what could’ve caused it.

It was as if your body had started moving on its own when you leaned forward, tracing the long scar below his eyes with your index finger, down to the ones down his neck, stopping just short of his collarbone. 

Despite the deep scars and slightly bumpy texture, the skin felt soft and you could feel a slight shiver run down his spine as you ran his finger over them. He observed your facial expressions closely as you did and eventually put his bigger hand above yours to stop your motion and pressed your hand against his chest with a smile. Although there was hurt lingering behind his icy blue eyes.

“How did you get these scars?” You mustered up the courage to ask, your eyebrows pulled into a frown.

“Oh, that? I battled a gigantic undersea monster when I conquered the Fortress of Meropide. Guess who emerged victorious?” He smirked.

“Wait… really?” You ushered in surprise.

“No.” He replied dryly while averting his eyes.

You retracted your hand from his chest while apologizing. You felt like you had overstepped a boundary by asking.

“It’s –” He hesitated before pointing to his neck. “This one right here is the reason I’m here.”

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” You reassured, not wanting to pry into his private life if he didn’t want to tell you. He took hold of your hand once more and gave it a reaffirming squeeze before sighing deeply.

“I… killed my parents. Well, adoptive parents. I’m an orphan.” Another long sigh escaped him as he averted his eyes to where your hands were intertwined. “To keep it short, they seemed like nice and law-abiding citizens at first. Like a picture-perfect family. But eventually, they treated us, me and my siblings, like trash, and sold us out one after another. I know for a fact some of my siblings did not survive because of what they did and one day… I just– snapped and ended things and set the remaining children free. They didn’t go down without a fight and that’s that. As for the others?” He brushed along his arms with the fingers of his right hand. “I’ve gotten into fistfights and the like down here a lot, nothing too special about those, really.”

He fell quiet, fiddling with your thumb, clearly nervous about how you’d possibly react to this revelation. Would you resent him? Push him away?

But you did neither of these things. You couldn’t even imagine how hard growing up must’ve been for him. And then being sent from one hell straight into another because you defended yourself and others from harm? Fontaine’s justice system was a lot – but after your case and especially after hearing his now, one thing was evident: It was everything but just.

“You’ve never been free. Not even for a single day of your life?” You questioned.

“I guess not. Although I can’t really complain. My position allows me more freedom than some people above ground have. My sentence ended a long time ago but I have no reason to go back up permanently now. Besides, I’m needed here.” He chuckled dryly before looking back up into your eyes which were now glistening with tears as you were on the verge of crying.

He took your face between his hands, wiping your eyes gently with the pad of his thumb before bringing it closer to his to press a sweet kiss to your lips.

But it wasn't long before you were interrupted by the door being flung open, swiftly followed by little tippy steps. Looking over Wriothesley's shoulder towards the doorway to the room you spotted a very displeased and borderline angry-looking Sigewinne.

"Your Grace." She almost hissed with one of her little arms stemmed on her hips and the other pointing to the wall clock that read 1 a.m. "My patient needs rest and this doesn't include staying up way past midnight and drinking caffeinated tea!"

He threw you a half-amused, half-apologetic look before sliding off the bed in one smooth motion. Spreading his arms out to both sides, he turned around with a sly smirk and looked at the head nurse.

"Ah, my apologies. It seems I must've forgotten the time again."

"Hmph… and also, while we're at it – you should rest more and drink less black tea as well." Sigewinne remarked matter-of-factly while looking at Wriothesley disapprovingly.

"I'm getting quite enough sleep, thank you very much for your concern."

"Your eyebags would beg to differ." 

"Touché."

Sigewinne crossed her arms with a triumphant smile painted on her lips as she watched Wriothesley walk out of the room with an apologetic shrug in your direction.

The head nurse promptly rushed to your bedside to fluff up your pillows and tuck you back into bed. She quickly checked if your bandages needed to be changed again before quickly wishing you goodnight, extinguishing the lights as well and closing the door behind her.

This was what a lot of evenings that week looked like. Staying up late with Wriothesley, chatting the night away, drinking tea with the occasional kiss thrown in.

As soon as the week had passed and Wriothesley had ripped your criminal record into shreds in front of your eyes you would’ve been able to return to your old life. But you still hadn't fully regained your strength yet. So upon doctor's orders, you stayed a little longer than you needed to. Not that you particularly minded - especially since you were allowed to stay in a guest room right below Wriothesley's office, which was infinitely more comfortable than the Infirmary. 

Just a couple of weeks ago you could've never imagined staying here longer than you absolutely needed to, but now you found yourself not quite wanting to leave anymore – at least you weren’t in a hurry to do so.

You spent most of your time lounging around in Wriothesley's office, scanning the bookshelves, reading some books, going through his tea collection with growing fascination, and generally just lazing the time away in his presence.

You grew incredibly closer during that week. You spent almost every free minute he had to spare together. Mostly on the sofa in his office with your head resting on his lap while he worked through some files with his feet resting on the coffee table. 

But as soon as the day came where you were officially escorted back out of the office he was nowhere to be found. You had been told to pack your things by the guards because you were about to be escorted out of the Fortress again soon. And while you prepared your things you looked for Wriothesley around the Fortress as well, since you didn’t want to leave before saying goodbye.

So, you stopped by the Infirmary, asked Sigewinne if she’d seen him already, asked several guards and Wolsey at the Cafeteria, but to no avail. It was as if the Primordial Sea itself had swallowed him.

And thus you were meeting at the pickup spot with the guards and were escorted out without seeing him again. You knew that, back then, his reassurance that you’d see him again had been a lie and the chances for that to happen were slim. Especially since he seldom ever left the Fortress. So you entered the elevator you had arrived in with a knot in your stomach that was the size of a boulder.

During the ride up you felt how the air that wafted into the elevator shaft became clearer and fresher again and you couldn’t help but wonder about your feelings that had developed for Wriothesley. Did they just emerge out of your circumstances? Was it just because he was the only one you really ever talked to down here? For the sake of your aching heart, you hoped that was the case and you’d forget this little crush once you returned to your old life again.

Surely that would be the case.

The elevator came to a halt and opened with the same mechanical hiss it did back when you arrived at the bottom of the ocean. You stepped outside, breathing in the fresh air as some droplets of rain collided with your skin.

At last. Freedom.

You didn’t even know where to go or what to do first so you simply ventured towards the City. You had exchanged the coupons you had for Mora again and buying some tea and fresh ingredients for your favorite dish sounded like a good start.

You first went back to your house, to drop off your things and change into something more presentable than your inmate clothes that smelled like oily grease. 

You took a warm shower and slipped on your favorite clothes before heading back out with a pep in your step. The bruise on your face was still slightly visible but that wouldn’t hinder you from enjoying your regained freedom. 

You happily walked into your favorite tea store that was close to your home, greeting the old lady behind the counter enthusiastically whom you always had friendly chats with before your time in prison. She briefly looked up in your direction before knitting her brows and returning to noting things down in her notebook without ushering a single word of greeting in return.

You became slightly unsettled because it seemed like the atmosphere in the room had changed when you entered. You had never seen her behave like this before, she had always been forthcoming, friendly, and extremely chatty. Nonetheless, you went up to the counter with a smile, greeting her once more.

“Hello, it’s great to see you again Madame Dubois. I came to buy a pack of my favorite tea again.” You cheered with a wide smile, feeling ecstatic about being able to do mundane things like grocery shopping again. You fondled with your wallet, taking out the Mora you owed, still remembering how much it cost – but just as you were about to put it on the counter you saw that the woman hadn’t moved an inch and was still scribbling away in her notebook.

“Hello? Madame?” You asked in confusion, trying to gain her attention.

No response.

“Madame?”

She slowly looked up at you again and was now clearly annoyed.

“Please leave my store. I don’t want to have my reputation tarnished by serving a criminal.”

You opened and closed your mouth a couple of times, ringing for words of protest but your mind simply blanked because of the sheer audacity of the situation. So, instead of standing up for yourself you simply walked out without another word. 

You were innocent and always had been, so why would she treat you this unfairly? And even if you had actually committed a crime, wouldn’t you have served your sentence and redeemed yourself again now?

With a tarnished mood you continued your way down the street until you came by a clothes store you used to frequent. You began browsing the clothes rack outside to get your mind off of the unpleasant encounter and even found two pieces you wanted to try on.

Throwing them over your arm you walked inside the store and right into the direction of the changing room. But just as you were about to enter it, the store owner stopped you, taking the clothes you had picked out of your hands without a word.

“Uhm, I wanted to… try these on.” You ushered in defeat, already suspecting where the conversation would venture from here. You were beginning to sense a pattern here.

“You can’t try that on.” The vendor said with determination.

“Why?”

“Pft.” She scoffed eyeing you from top to bottom, clearly not in a hurry to give you any sort of reply. “You’re not fooling me. I know that you’re going to steal something if I let you go into the changing room.”

“Madam, I’m innocent. I was never a criminal to begin with. I was falsely accused and convicted.” You protested weakly, feeling the lump in your throat grow in size.

“Mhm, yeah sure. And I’m the Hydro Archon.” She scoffed once more and pointed you towards the exit. 

With sagged shoulders and the urge to cry you found yourself outside of the store again and we're just about done with the day at this point. You half-considered just going back home again and pretending this all was just a bad dream but that would mean you'd just give up.

Was this how all former criminals were treated in Fontaine after being released? If so, it was truly no surprise that no one actually ever returned from the Fortress of Meropide if this was how they were welcomed back. Not because the Fortress wouldn't let them leave even after serving their sentence – but because they were unable to leave. Because they were brandished and irredeemable in the eyes of society.

The voice of Wriothesley from months ago now echoed in your head: “Once you get used to the Fortress you’ll find yourself unable to want to leave.”

Back then you had no idea how true that sentence would ring eventually. Not only because you missed him dearly already but also because you knew things would never return to how they had been before you had been to prison. Nothing you could say to the people on the surface would change their perception of you, because they wouldn’t believe you.

You continued to walk down the street and eventually came by your favorite cafeteria. You had often spent time here before being unrightfully incarcerated. You remembered that you had always gotten along well with the owner of it – but you had the suspicion that that would change now as well.

Unsure whether or not you should even try your luck you eventually walked towards a table and sat down. But your suspicions would remain correct – you would be politely asked to leave from here as well by the man you once got along with quite well, too.

He can’t risk the good reputation of his business and the other customers might feel unsafe sitting next to a convict.

How were you ever supposed to return to a normal life again if everyone treated you with so much disdain?

You decided to just give up for today and plopped down on the side of the pavement, next to some small rose bushes out of sight, and started crying. You needed a valve for all the anger and frustration that had accumulated over the day, and if that was it, so be it.

You wanted nothing more than to return to your old life, or heck, even go back to the Fortress of Meropide. But neither of those were possible. Society had decided you were a sinner and the Fortress was off-limits since people without a criminal record couldn’t get back in. Only former prisoners with a record could go back and decide to stay there, normal citizens, however, were not given that opportunity.

“Is everything alright?” A high-pitched voice addressed you with concern.

You looked up and looked into the face of a purple Melusine with blue hair in the famous blue Fontainian officer uniform. Her eyes were filled with worry and she was leaning over slightly so she was on eye-level with you.

“Mhm, everything’s alright.” You sniffled, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand.

She didn’t look convinced and her brows furrowed even further. She looked around and hurried off before swiftly returning with a cup of tea and some pastries from the cafeteria you were unable to get even basic decency from just ten minutes ago.

With a genuine smile on her face, she handed you the items proudly.

“Here, take this. Maybe this will make your day a little better. Remember that just like after rainfall the sun will eventually shine again, there will be brighter days after crying again, too!”

Lost for words and touched by the kindness, you accepted the gift from the friendly Melusine who was already happily hopping away again. At the end of the path, she turned around once more waving and pulling the corners of her mouth up with her hands, signaling you to smile, before returning to her job.

You didn’t know whether to continue crying because you were still feeling like you were drowning at the bottom of the sea or because the only one who had shown you an ounce of humanity today had been a being who wasn’t technically human.

Just what were you supposed to do now?

A couple of weeks passed after that day and things had gone just as bad as they had on your first day. You had found a handful of shops that would still accept you as a customer, and while they weren’t your favorite of all time, they served their purpose of letting you survive.

However, you were seemingly unable to find a stable job again. Your old job no longer wanted you as an employee and all the letters of application you had sent out, had stayed unanswered. You still had enough savings to make ends meet ends for a couple more weeks but after that, you would most likely have to start selling your belongings.

And as if that wasn’t bad enough already, the realization that contrary to what you originally wanted to believe – that you’d quickly get over what you and Wriothesley had after being free again – couldn’t be further from the truth. Reintegrating into society was made impossible to you so there was also no way to distract yourself from craving to see him just one more time. Also because he would be the only one who would show you kindness, understanding and love in a time like this.

No day passed where you didn’t find yourself daydreaming about the times you had sat together and chatted the night away, how you had met up for lunch and dinner, how attractive his smile had looked, how good his aftershave had smelled – and how perfectly intoxicating his lips had felt on yours. 

Why did he not wish you goodbye when you had to leave?

And much worse was that everything reminded you of him. The coat with the red silk lining you saw while passing the clothes store. The familiar tea smell that lingered around the tea store. The whiff of perfume out of the perfumery that smelled just like him. Everything just made you miss him more and it was beginning to become excruciating. 

And on one of those days when you sat alone at home, reminiscing about your time in the Fortress of Meropide you suddenly had an idea. In your present state – without a criminal record – you were legally unable to enter the Fortress… unless-

You jumped up from your seat, your heart practically beating out of your chest over the realization that there was one way out of your predicament.

One solution.

You needed to commit a crime.

You grabbed your jacket and rushed out of your door without a moment of hesitation. You set out for the market and were practically rushing down the street now. You were dead set on your decision. The more you thought about it the more excited you got.

Once you arrived at the plaza you spotted the booth of the jeweler and headed straight in the direction of the table with big, determined steps. You already made out an expensive ruby necklace from afar that was dangling freely from the jewelry stand. That thing must be worth thirty thousand Mora minimum. Stealing that would surely land you a prison sentence for a while – and once you had that, you were free to stay in the Fortress of Meropide for as long as you wished after. You would have the necessary criminal record to make it your forever home.

Smugly smiling to yourself you arrived at the table, eyes still transfixed on the necklace that now dangled teasingly in front of your eyes. Time felt like it was moving in slow motion at this point. You purposefully reached your hand out, clutching the gem with your entire palm. The look on the face of the jeweler was changing with every millisecond that passed. His brows lifted, his eyes became wide and his mouth formed into an o-shape, ready to scream protest over the theft of one of his most precious items on display. Yet, before any of that happened – before you could yank the necklace down from the stand and make a run for it – a bigger hand enveloped your own calmly.

You could feel a chest pressed to your back and a hand on your shoulder, still expecting your plan to work. One of the guards must’ve sensed your intent and just stopped you before you could make a run for it. But the change to a calm look and the smile on the face of the jeweler told you that the situation wasn’t quite like you believed.

“This is the one you like, darling?” A deep smooth, voice inquired from behind you.

Shock shot through your system. You knew that voice like the back of your hand. You had been craving to hear it again for weeks. You had been craving for it since the day you left the prison.

What was Wriothesley doing here?

“We’ll get that one.” He declared towards the jeweler, motioning to the ruby necklace that you still clung to. He handed a small coin pouch to the man behind the booth, who was now happily smiling, weighing the Mora in his hand with a pleasant hum.

Scarred and callused fingers wrapped around your cramped fist and carefully opened your fingers, gently taking the beautiful necklace out of your grasp. 

You were still standing on the spot, unable to move as you were frozen in shock about what just happened, while the man of your dreams put the most expensive jewelry you had ever touched around your neck. Where did he even get this much money to splurge for an item like that?

No. Where did he even come from?!

“Thank you.” He nodded towards the jeweler with a handsome smile before leading you away from the booth calmly. But you could feel how tense he really was, by how hard his digits dug into your shoulder.

He dragged you into a secluded side alley behind some crates that hid you from prying eyes and promptly pushed you against the wall. An icy gaze pinned you down and the iron grip on your shoulder became impossibly tighter.

“What in God's name do you think you’re doing?” He hissed through clenched teeth.

“Nothing.” You feigned innocence. But your voice was barely even above a whisper and you found yourself unable to look him in the eyes.

“Nothing?” He gasped in disbelief. “You were about to steal that necklace just now.”

And to undermine his point he pressed the gem into your skin, which now sat between your collarbones.

“Are you insane?! You only just gained your freedom back!”

“Freedom?!” You bit back exasperated with tears welling up in your eyes out of anger and frustration over the downward spiral your life had been in for so long now. “This ain’t freedom. This is hell. I can’t do this anymore.”

“That’s not a reason to want to go back to prison!” He hissed, pushing your shoulder against the wall even harder.

“Don’t you dare lecture me about anything?! You didn’t even have the courtesy to say goodbye to me when I left.” You hissed.

“I didn’t want to make it harder for you. It was for the best.”

“Shut the fuck up.” You swore fiercely. “You don’t know anything. You don’t know what’s best for me because fuck, this isn’t it. Everyone shuns me, I can’t find a job, I can’t even buy groceries. I don’t have any–”

Before you were able to finish your tirade you were abruptly interrupted by his lips hungrily crashing into yours. 

Immediately the million questions you wanted to ask him and the shock about the situation were forgotten.

You inhaled sharply and shut your eyes and your hands immediately reached up to grab a fistful of his hair, lightly tugging on it while deepening the kiss. A low satisfied grunt vibrated through his chest as you did, sending a shiver down your spine in return. 

He pressed himself up against you, trapping you between himself and the wall. One of his hands found his way around your waist, greedily squeezing at your flesh below his palms. Further pulling you into him as he held you impossibly closer than you already were while devouring you like he was a man starved for air and you were his oxygen. 

His other hand found comfort at the back of your head, preventing it from crashing into the brick wall he pressed you against.

Slightly parted lips danced across your lips down your jaw to your collarbones. Only interrupted by his heavy pants and roaming hands that didn’t seem to know where to touch first.

“Fuck,” he muttered breathlessly with half-lidded eyes, “You drive me insane.” 

For someone who had been blessed with a Cryo vision, you were surprised at how his touch could set you ablaze so easily. Pure flames licked at your skin where he touched you. Hot open-mouthed kisses were placed wherever he could reach. Silken lips entangled with yours as you dangled on the edge of consciousness from being overwhelmed with raw emotion.

It was as if time had stopped for both of you. Lost in the intimate moment of your shared passion, somewhere in a back alley of Fontaine.

He was so close yet you wanted him to be closer. You wanted to hold him and never let him go. You wanted him to kiss you until your lips were sore and you no longer had any air to breathe.

If the kisses you had shared in the Fortress of Meropide had been addicting already then this right now was the most dangerous drug in existence. You were intoxicated by the taste and feel of his lips for no one had ever kissed you like this before. Nor did you want anyone but him ever kissing you in the same way. 

At this point he wasn't a want, he was a need. You needed him like you needed air to breathe and water to drink. And he felt the same about you. 

He carefully parted his lips, prodding the tip of his tongue against your bottom lip, practically begging for entry. And you allowed it as if it was the most natural thing in the world. 

The butterflies in your stomach did somersaults and were about to burst out of your chest when he slung both of his strong arms around your midriff to pull you even closer once again.

A string of saliva connected your lips when he separated from you to catch some air. His eyes were still clouded with emotion as they still hungrily looked at you. His face was still so dangerously close you could feel the tingling sensation of his breath on your lips. 

His arms maintained their position around your waist and he pressed his face into the crook of your neck with a deep inhale. 

“I missed you so much.” He muttered into your shoulder with a meek tone.

You felt like all the weight of the past weeks was lifted off your shoulders at once and you were finally able to breathe again – all despite being buried between the wall and a 6’3” man who was hugging the dear life out of you right now.

“So did I.” You sniffled, only now realizing you had begun to cry because you were so overwhelmed with joy.

“Please, take me with you. Don’t leave me again.” You pleaded, desperately clasping a fist into the fur of his coat. “I don’t want to stay here anymore. Not like this. Not without you.”

He sighed deeply, moving his palms to your shoulders, gently squeezing them. He looked at the floor pondering before directing his gaze back at you again.

“Are you truly sure about that?” He inquired seriously to which you just replied with a determined nod. 

“I’ve never been more sure about anything in my life.” You answered and placed a quick peck on his lips once more. “I’d have committed a crime only so that I could be with you again.”

A low chuckle echoed through his chest and he placed a kiss at the crown of your head.

“Please don’t do that.”

You looked at him with a pout because how were you supposed to come with him when you weren’t allowed at the Fortress?

“I might have a different idea.” He announced smugly.

“And that is?”

“Work at the Fortress.”

“But… I don’t have the required qualifications for the job. I would never get accepted, let alone be even invited for an interview.” You complained, furrowing your brows.

“Well. Are you willing to learn?”

“I-I guess?” You hesitantly answer, looking up at him in confusion. “I’m not sure I follow.”

He took a step back, directed his gaze to the ground, and put his index finger to his chin, acting deep in thought.

“Well, then you’re hired.” He suddenly declared with a smug grin painted on his lips.

“What?” You huffed perplexed, causing him to snort out a laugh.

“My love,” He took your hands into his, lifting them to his lips to press a soft kiss to your knuckles. “Have you already forgotten who I am? I am the one who makes the rules down there.”

After you promptly agreed to his impromptu interview and hiring process, Wriothesley accompanied you back to your house to pack your things. He was barely able to stop himself from smiling from ear to ear. And you reciprocated that feeling. You would be getting a separate room in the Fortress that you could customize to your wishes. And the best part about it was that you technically could always return to the surface still – because, you weren’t imprisoned. You were about to start a new chapter of your life and you couldn’t be more excited.

Sure – things didn’t go like you had expected them to, but all’s well that ends well. Maybe you should stop by your old friend's house sometime to thank her for framing you for the crime you were falsely convicted of back then. After all, it netted you the Warden of the Fortress of Meropide at the end of the day.

As soon as you stood back between the high iron-clad walls that smelled like machine grease and oil you felt right at home. It was as if you had never left. But unlike the first time you arrived here, you were happy. 

You were free, you weren’t a criminal, no one would judge you here and you would be able to spend time with the man you loved. In fact, you’d even say you were happier than you probably had ever been.

Wriothesley led you to your new room, which happened to be below his office, and told you to make yourself right at home. He sat down on your bed and stayed around for a while to chat with you while you unpacked and decorated the space to your liking. Ultimately he had to excuse himself because he was called by a guard for some official business. And with a quick kiss that both of you smiled into, he was off.

You continued unpacking for only gods knew how long until your eyes eventually began to fall close on their own. When you checked the clock on the wall again you saw that it was nearly 11 p.m. already and you decided it was probably time to head to bed. 

You headed to the bathroom that was next to your room and got ready for the night, brushed your teeth, and washed your face before slipping into your favorite pajamas and settling down on your bed.

But as soon as you turned the lights off and lay down on your pillow, something hard was poking your temple. You reached below the pillow and touched something hard and round that felt incredibly cold to the touch.

What the heck?

You grabbed it and quickly pulled it out from below the pillow. The dimly lit room was immediately enveloped in a light blue light. But whatever it was that you had expected it to be it wasn’t this. The light of the orb in your hands was pulsating steadily like a heartbeat and you were quick to discern what that foreign item in your hand was. A cryo vision.

You furrowed your brows and concluded that it must be Wriothesley’s. He did sit on your bed earlier. Maybe it fell off his coat.

You shuffled out of the bed and headed back upstairs, hoping to find him in his office. 

While climbing up the stairs you could quickly make out the smell of fresh tea as well as the quiet notes of a gramophone playing classical music.

As soon as you got a view of the room you found Wriothesley sitting on his desk with closed eyes, a cup of tea held to his lips. Seeing him just enjoying himself made a smile creep up on your face as you approached him.

“Hi.” You whispered as you walked towards him on tippy-toes.

“Hi.” He set down his cup. “Did the music wake you up? I figured you must already be sleeping.”

“No, nothing like that.” You shook your head, taking the hand holding the vision out from behind your back to show it to him. “I found this under my pillow, I think you must’ve lost it earlier.” You discerned, looking at the glowing vision in your hand.

Wriothesley eyed you and then the vision curiously as he jumped up from his desk and walked up to you. 

He gently put his palm around your hand that was holding the vision, closing your fingers back around it again with a soft smile.

He lifted your chin so you looked him in the eyes before speaking again.

“It’s yours.” He declared.

“What? Stupid! I can’t keep your vision! You need it!” You began protesting but were quickly shut up when Wriothesley slipped the coat off his shoulder, revealing the blue orb that was still danging down from one shoulder.

“It’s not mine.”

Your mouth fell open and a thousand thoughts started racing in your mind. How could this be? You? A vision bearer? But you didn’t even feel anything. Wouldn’t receiving a vision be more flashy than simply finding it below your pillow?

“It seems like even the gods think you’ve finally found your place in the world.” He ushered proudly, slinging his arms around your shoulders and pressing a soft kiss to the crown of your head with a gentle smile.

“I don’t even know how to use it.” You muttered with uncertainty.

“I’ll show you.”

If the gods think you’ve managed to find your place then you’d simply have to trust their judgement. And if you honestly listened to your heart you would probably agree with them.

Whenever you looked at Wriothesley, you felt like you had finally found the place where you belonged. 

You were home.

Because home is where he is.

Do not repost, copy, translate or edit - © dustofthedailylife || reblogs, comments, and asks about Genshin or my fics are always greatly appreciated and motivate me! Maple dividers are mine - do not copy.

[littlemarianah]

Willow is the older sister and often sees things her brother doesn't.

Rye asks uncomfortable questions, which they parents seem to hesitate to answer. He always asks for help with his homework and doesn't seem to understand why when it comes to the history of Panem his father's face seems to darken. In fact, he doesn't even notice his father's voice crack as he reads the text in the book. But Peeta never refuses to help.

The subject of War always leads to The Games. Either its beginning or its end. And the games always lead to star-crossed lovers and the arrow that felled an entire arena. And worst of all, this goes back to the bombs that rained on the capital. But Rye never seems to connect this to the scars marked on his parents' bodies.

"Don't worry, Daddy. I'll help him." she says, sitting next to her brother at study time.

"Well, I can..." Peeta tries to say.

"No, you can leave it to me. You know, I was in fourth grade just two years ago so it's all still fresh in my head."

The boy tries to protest, but his older sister's incisive look made him shrink in his seat. She can be persuasive when she wants to.

When the two are finally alone in the kitchen, with their books spread out on the table, Willow whispers to Rye. "Stop asking Dad for help about this, okay?"

"this what?"

"story of Panem."

"Why?” The boy asks innocently and the girl snorts angrily.

No, she never asked for help with these things. The history book seemed to bother her mother so much that she didn't even take it out of her backpack. She heard Peeta and Katniss whispering through the walls, tense and tearful. Willow preferred to keep everything to herself. The doubts and questions, most of them were already answered anyway. With her mother's howls in the middle of the night, with her father's nervous attacks.

Willow opens the story book, leafs through it until she finds a picture. A girl. Impenetrable gaze, braid hanging down her neck, a bow in her hands. She looks at her brother, hoping that will make him understand.

"What?" he shrugs

"It's mama, silly."

"Mama?" The boy leans over the book and looks carefully. It doesn't look like his mother, It doesn't have her kind eyes, nor her sweet smile, and there are no scars whatsoever. The way he always recognized his mother, the funny designs on her skin, marks. But he recognizes one thing , the gray eyes that he sees in the mirror. "oh, it's mama."

"Of course it is, what are you doing in your story class?"

He shrugs again but the answer is sleeping.

"They don't like to talk about it." the girl says. "If you have any questions, ask me."

"Is it about The Hunger Games?" he now whispers, because even though he is a little naive, he can feel the weight of those words.

"Rye, try to understand something." she says, using her big sister tone. "Everything is about The Hunger Games."

Rye seems to understand. Because sometimes at night, he wakes up from a cruel nightmare and runs to his mother's bed. Next summer he turns 11 and the older kids at school keep saying that's the age they take you. And he knows his parents went, and so did Uncle Haymitch.

Their mom enters the kitchen and the photo of her young is covered by Willow with a heavy math book. But Katniss has eagle eyes and the Willows know that. "What is it?" Katniss asks.

"Homework." Willow say.

Katniss takes the history book from the table and admires her photo with an indecipherable expression. "And why were you hiding it?"

The girl doesn't know how to respond.

"Willow said not to bother you with it." the boy says.

Damn mama's boy, Willow thinks to herself. Her face burns red. "That's not what I said!" Willow directs her gaze to Karniss, her mother's bright eyes making her shiver. "I just... It's just fourth-grade nonsense. So I can help... He doesn't need to... talk to you about it. I already know everything. It's just... I did not want.."

Katniss leaves the history book on the table, leans over Willow and gives her a small kiss on the forehead. The girl is silent. "The two of you are going to put on your boots and we're going to go for a walk." Katniss says.

The boy is happy to be taken away from his homework early, but Willow seems apprehensive. On that rainy spring afternoon they cross the muddy road, past the wreckage of abandoned buildings and go to the meadow. The flowerbed, normally green, is gray today, due to the rain and fog. Katniss sits with them on a fallen log. And it begins.

First she tells them about a miner. With a beautiful voice and a huge heart. A great father and a great husband. Tell them how he was buried alive. And even though they both already knew this story this time it seems more detailed and harder to hear. Then Katniss tells them about a boy with a loaf of bread and a hungry girl, tells them about a streak of bad luck, tells them about an arena of blood, tells them about poisoned berries.

Rye is wide-eyed, clutching his mother's arms.

Katniss tells them about a revolution, about a war, about a mockingjay. Then about the bodies in the meadow, about his grandparents and his uncles who were gone, about their late Aunt Prim. And this is another one of the stories that they knew very well, but to be told like this without whispered words, without secrets, without anything beyond reality. It's new. Willow then also snuggles into her mother's arms, a bit tearful. Listening to Katniss tell about a girl with black hair and blue eyes and a boy with blond hair and gray eyes.

Then they go home, humming an old song.

If you want more content about toast babies Read my fanfic about them - Deep in the Meadow

[steddietogo]

Eddie finds Steve’s green sweatshirt one day after getting surprise dunked in the pool at Casa Harrington by his own sheep. It’s soft and worn like it was once Steve’s favorite thing to wear but now it lays forgotten at the back of his closet.

Eddie doesn’t think much about it, just picks it up and pulls it on. Its just him and Steve in the kitchen when he gets back. The others are arguing about which movie to put on while Steve heated up dinner for all of them like a dutiful housewife. The thought makes him laugh.

Steve turns around at the sound of his voice. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing, just. You pretend to get mad when the kids call you mom but here you are, being all—” He waves his hands about trying to convey his point but Steve is already distracted.

“That sweatshirt,” Steve has a frown on his face, but it’s not exactly a bad one. Eddie wonders when he learned to read Steve like that.

He gives Steve a twirl. “Do I look good in it?” Steve smiles, doesn’t deny it.

“You know, I fought my first demogorgan in it,”

“Woah,” Eddie looks down at it, feeling something akin to wonder when he smooths his palms over the fabric.

“Yeah,”

“God, Harrington,” Eddie looks up grinning. “You gotta keep a priceless artefact like this safe,” Steve rolls his eyes and goes to pull the pizza out of the oven. He’s still smiling though.

Eddie follows, then plants his butt on the counter so he can see Steve’s face. “Is that why you don’t wear it anymore?”

Steve’s cheeks puff out like a chipmunk when he sighs heavily. Eddie has the sudden urge to pinch them.

“Kinda, at first,” He doesn’t look at Eddie when he speaks. “I don’t even know why I kept it, you know? I kinda just wanted to burn every evidence of that night,”

Eddie nods and goes to gather plates for everyone. He should say it. Steve trusted him enough to share, Eddie should too right? He hasn’t said it out loud. Not to Wayne, not to the upside down scientists approved therapist. But he could tell Steve. Steve gets it. And Eddie so badly wants to talk about it, maybe cry a little. Because out of all the things that had happened, this one really breaks his heart.

Eddie startles when a hand softly presses into the small of his back. “You okay there?” Steve has his head tilted to the side to see Eddie better and this time the frown on his face spells worry.

“I can’t play my guitar,” he blurts out. And the words rush out of him all at once. “I can’t do it, I mean I get nightmares and shit, you know. And sometimes my scars hurt so much at night that I can’t even sleep. But this one really takes the cake, like, I pick her up and my heart starts racing and I can’t breath—” It’s happening again. His chest tightens to the point that he struggles to draw in a breath and his vision blurs out as his eyes fill with tears and— oh god he’s going to die in Steve’s kitchen.

“No, Eddie you’re not going to die, I promise,” says a steady voice firm enough that he almost believes it. Then warm hands pull him into an even warmer body. Eddie squeezes his eyes shut, listens to Steve telling him how to breath and slowly, after a long while, the knot starts to loosen and breathing comes easier. Steve doesn’t stop running a soothing hand over his back as Eddie sags into him, suddenly winded. His fists are balled into Steve’s shirt like a scared little kid.

“Sorry,” Eddie mumbles when he’s gathered enough energy to start feeling embarrassed at how quickly he fell apart.

“Nothing to be sorry about, I swear, happens to the best of us,”

Eddie snorts, “Okay mom,” Steve swats at his arm. Eddie finally pulls away after a while. “Think I really needed that,”

“Hey, if you want, you can come over and trying playing over here?” Steve shrugs. “Maybe a change of location can help, I’ll even hold your hand through it,”

“How am I supposed to play if you’re holding my hand, dummy,” Eddie snarks, hiding his smile behind his hair. “But I’ll think about your offer,” There’s literally nothing to think about, what was he going to say, no? Steve’s answering look tells Eddie he knows too.

And if Eddie leans into Steve when he put his arm around Eddie in the sofa while sharing a blanket, well that’s his business.

[cl3fairyyy]

˗ˏˋ routine // edward nashton x GN! reader ˎˊ˗

summary // edward has always gone through life in solitude. he has the same routine, day in and day out, and he doesn't change that for anyone. he doesn't have time for friendship and looks down on his coworkers; their shallow gossip and strained smalltalk isn't worth his time. his way of thinking is soon flipped on its head when KTMJ hires a pretty receptionist to greet him every morning before work. what starts as innocent pining (as innocent as it gets for edward, anyway), soon spirals into something more, faster than he can control. alternatively, you score a cushy receptionist gig and start crushing on your cute coworker lol.

warnings // very brief mention of healed sh scars. edward and the reader smoke- reader is GN but is described as "pretty" multiple times. eddie is a little strange in this but that is just customary for him atp lol. a little angsty but mostly fluffy coworkers to more bc eddie deserves more soft fics :c no use of y/n!!

word count // 4.5k

notes // I haven't written a fic since my wattpad days so my apologies if this isn't great </3 I have been pining after the green man for far too long and have so many ideas in my system that need to come out !! I hope Edward isn't too OOC and would love any feedback on how to write him better :)) I might do a pt 2 if anyone is interested hehe

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

Edward has never found any substance in socialising at work. He has never found the tedious break room small talk and uninteresting (probably fabricated) gossip that floats around the office to be very meaningful, and for the five years that he has worked at KTMJ, he has never had so much as a conversation, let alone friendship, with any of his colleagues. 

His daily routine is fairly simple: wake up, go to work, come home, eat (if he remembers), and sleep. All without interacting with anyone. Edward lies to himself, convinces himself that he prefers, even enjoys, living like this. He has crawled through this city, through this life, in solitude, and he has always been fine. 

But the ache in his heart and the lump in his throat when he lies awake at night, running calloused fingers over faded scars, say otherwise.  

Edward is lonely. 

His mind tends to wander when he turns in bed to look out the window. He watches groups of friends, drunk and stumbling down the old, cracked streets of Gotham, their rapturous (and rather obnoxious, he thinks) laughter echoing through his open apartment window. He imagines himself drunkenly walking alongside them, sharing inside jokes and funny anecdotes that make their cheeks red with laughter, and when he drifts off to sleep, he dreams of waking up in another body, another life, where he simply belongs. 

He wakes up on a day like any other, in his cold, empty apartment, alone. He begins his routine, shoving a piece of expired bread in the toaster as he neatens his tie and pulls on his loafers. He is happy with this routine. He eats alone at the table, checking his watch, mindful of the 8:15 bus. He leaves his apartment and catches the bus just as it arrives at his stop. The driver, an older lady, offers him a smile. He keeps his head down. He is happy with this routine. He enters the office earlier than usual, hoping to get in some extra work to avoid staying any later than he must. He is happy with- 

He pauses. 

The receptionist, a woman far too old to not be retired, does not greet him with the flick of her pen as she completes the morning crossword. 

The routine is disrupted. 

His coworkers are crowded around his boss' door, straining to see through the tiny window separating "us" from "them." Edward's mind is clouded with confusion as he catches the eye of one of his colleagues, a man named Will, a man he can't stand, a man who acquired his position (as Edward's supervisor) straight out of college, through daddy's money and connections. 

The routine is disrupted. 

"Word is that we have a new receptionist." He fills Edward in. Edward wonders if he only tells him this through some feeling of obligation, rather than wanting to share the latest office gossip with him. He simply nods, making his way to his desk.  

Back to the routine. 

After possibly the most intimidating introduction to a boss you have ever experienced, you are given a brief tour of your new office and shown to your new desk. You are given your new tasks and set to work on your new job. 

To be honest, it isn't entirely difficult. You are certainly overqualified, but you can't complain about being paid above minimum wage, in Gotham, in your twenties, for such a simple job. You remember reading that the best way to make a good first impression at a new job is to introduce yourself to your new colleagues, and, despite the anxiety welling in your throat, you put on a bright smile and set off to do just that. 

For the most part, your colleagues are nice, a bit bored, but they seem interested in you and that surely must be a start, right?  

The girl whose desk you're currently standing in front of (her name is Kate, you think?) perks up suddenly, seemingly remembering something. She gestures for you to sit next to her, and you do just that.  

"You seem nice. Like, really nice. But you seem like the kind of person who is so nice that it borders on naiveté." You tilt your head in confusion but nod for her to continue. "I want you to, y'know, actually have a chance of fitting in here. So let me give you some advice." 

She glances around inconspicuously before lowering her voice and tilting her head back ever so subtly. "That guy over there. Glasses. Yeah- okay, try not to make it so obvious that I'm talking about him. Don't bother trying to get a word out of him. The guy doesn't talk to anyone, and believe me, we have tried getting him to. I don't know if he's shy or thinks he's better than us or what, but he seriously is, like, mute. All he does is come to work and go home. He even eats his lunch at his desk." 

You try and mimic her subtlety, glancing up to catch a glimpse at the desk tucked neatly in the corner, and you're met with eyes behind glasses staring right back at you. You quickly look away, your cheeks burning at the embarrassment of being caught talking about someone. 

She smiles sympathetically at you. 

"I know this schtick you've got going on. Introducing yourself to the office so that we all like you." 

She snorts at your expression and continues. 

"Hey, chill out. It's seriously endearing. I was the exact same when I started and, to be fair, it seems to be working for you. I just don't want you to get offended or anything trying to talk to Edward over there, and getting nothing out of him, y'know?" 

You offer Kate a grateful smile and rise from your seat. 

"Thanks for the warning. I think I'd like to at least say hi to him anyway." 

All she offers you is a shrug, as if saying, "don't say I didn't warn you," as you wander over to Edward's desk. 

You smile at him, introducing yourself and holding out your hand to shake. Okay, he's actually pretty cute up close, you think, with big green eyes concealed by glasses that have slipped slightly down his faintly freckled nose. He meets your enthusiasm with a blank stare and a readjustment of his glasses, and your shoulders deflate a little.  

"You're, uh, you're Edward, right? That's what it says on your name tag, anyway."  

Silence. 

You giggle nervously. 

"Well, I- anyway, I'm the new receptionist. I'm really happy to be working with you." 

You're surprised at the sincerity in your tone, and Edward must be too, because you swear you notice his stoic expression falter for a second. 

Your hand begins to shake as it remains in front of his face, and the air grows thick with awkwardness. It feels like every single pair of eyes in the office is on the both of you. You begin to retract your hand when Edward gingerly reaches forward and shakes it limply. His bored expression doesn't change as he does so. 

"Likewise." 

With that single word uttered, he carries on typing away at his computer, completely ignoring you. Your legs seem to work at their own volition as they carry you back to your desk, your cheeks pink. 

Unbeknownst to you, Edward has been observing your every move since you stepped out of the boss' office. His desk is at the perfect angle, giving him a direct view of your own, and he had watched you approach all of your colleagues to give your little introduction speech. He had seen you chatting discreetly with Kate, and he had caught you peeking up to look at him. He had figured Kate had warned you to steer clear of him, and the thought had made his stomach sink. 

He thought you were very pretty, and since he had first caught a passing glimpse of you, his mind instantly had began to wander to thoughts of him approaching your desk, introducing himself confidently and charming you all within your first interaction. 

He had shaken his head at that, embarrassed by his little fantasy. He has never known the feeling of confidence in his life, and he had quickly resigned himself to thinking that you would be yet another coworker he would never interact with, besides a quick "good morning," and "good night," at the beginning and end of each day. 

The routine continues, and he is happy with that. 

The routine continues until it doesn't, until you meekly approach his desk and smile at him, and oh God up close you are so much prettier, he thinks, and then you're extending your hand for him to shake, that same dimpled smile on your face fading when he doesn't even acknowledge the action. 

Of course he manages to make you uncomfortable within the first five seconds of interacting with him. Before his mind can catch up with his body, he is shaking your hand and uttering the first word he has spoken in this office in a long time.  

He instantly has to break the intense eye contact he has held with you, pretending to type numbers into his computer, praying the colour of his cheeks doesn't betray him. 

When you walk away he feels guilty, he wishes he could will you back to his desk so he could play off his awkwardness as a joke, so he could pretend he is someone much cooler and much more interesting than Edward Nashton. 

But he can't. 

He has to watch you walk away, back to your desk, your head down to hide your embarrassment. 

When 5pm hits, you stand from your desk, stretching. God, that spinny chair does something awful for your back. You're packing up your things when Edward passes your desk. You offer him a smile as you wish him goodnight, fully expecting him to ignore you. 

Instead, he pauses and turns to give you a small nod before exiting the building and all of a sudden it feels like your face is on fire and your heart is pounding like you've just ran a marathon. 

Oh no. 

Of course you get a crush on your first day, and of course it has to be on the one person in the building that has uttered one singular word to you. 

You lie awake that night, tossing and turning in bed as thoughts of your colleague cloud your mind. Sure, you've always had a thing for nerdy guys, but nerdy guys who have a reputation around your office for being a complete recluse? Seriously? 

But he had spoken to you, he had acknowledged your existence. So what the hell does that mean? You sigh, rubbing your eyes before popping a melatonin. Your mind is racing a thousand miles a minute and you know there is no way you're getting to sleep otherwise.  

Edward's mind swarms with thoughts of you as he lies in bed, willing himself to fall asleep. He picks up his phone, reading the time, and sighs, opening up your social media page for seemingly the thousandth time that night.  

He has already scrolled through your entire account, has already studied every single photo and video you have posted until he has them memorised. He swipes through pictures of you at bars with your friends, videos of you dancing on vacation with tan lines and pink cheeks, and the countless selfies you have with your dog on your page.  

He imagines you introducing him to your friend group and him befriending them over drinks in your favourite bar. He imagines taking you away on lavish trips to Europe, Asia, South America, all the places you have on the bucket list posted on your profile. He imagines a domestic life built together, sharing an apartment with you and your dog, and he falls asleep with an unfamiliar warmth in his chest, hope rushing through his veins for the first time in a long time. 

Over the next few months, you grow closer with your colleagues- close to the point that you even see them outside of office hours. Close to the point that, when deadlines are met and the entire office throws a party to celebrate, Kate always manages to convince you to tag along. Close to the point that, after a long week, you and the small circle of friends you have made go out for drinks to unwind- and you have even found yourself inviting your other coworkers to join you. 

All of your coworkers, except one. 

The guilt consumes you every time you pack up to leave, smiling and laughing with your colleagues, when you catch a glimpse of Edward hunched over his monitor, ready to log even more hours of overtime. You have always considered inviting him along, but the only words he ever utters to you are quiet greetings every morning and the occasional "good night," when he leaves the office before you do. You don't even know if he likes you. 

You certainly like him. 

You're sure the blush on your face is undeniable every time you accidentally lock eyes with him when you swivel absentmindedly in your chair, or when you hand him his mail (which is rare for him to receive, you've noticed). You always try and find excuses to talk to him, and every time you do, you're left stumbling over your words and pink in the cheeks while he remains completely unfazed, unbothered and silent. 

You're determined to at least invite him for drinks. At any rate, if he says no, you can comfort yourself with the knowledge that you tried to develop some kind of friendship with him (while secretly hoping for more).  

It is such an easy task, one you have discussed frequently with your coworkers many a time, who have repeatedly encouraged you to offer an invitation to Edward- so you don't understand why it feels like lead weights have been tied to your feet and sandpaper has dried out your mouth when you mentally prepare yourself to go and speak to the infamous office recluse. 'It's no big deal! It's just drinks with colleagues!' you remind yourself, but the rapid beating of your heart does nothing to comfort you. 

You finally internally berate yourself enough to stand up and, as casually as you can, wander over to Edward's desk, a friendly smile on your face. Your shadow over his desk forces him to acknowledge you. 

You clear your throat somewhat awkwardly before saying with as much (casual) enthusiasm as you can muster, "me and some of the others are gonna head out for drinks pretty soon. We'd love for you to come!" 

You notice his eyes subtly squint behind his glasses as he sizes you up, before shaking his head, his gaze flickering back down to his monitor. 

"Can't. Got some messy paperwork here that needs correcting, and it can't wait until Monday." 

Your smile falters slightly and you manage to nod in understanding. "That sucks. We would've really liked you there. I wouldn't want it to eat up too much of your evening, so I won't keep you from it. Have a nice weekend, Edward!" 

His head lifts at your mention of his name, and when you smile at him, turning to leave, he clears his throat. quietly 

"I'm, ah, I'm sorry about that. Maybe some other time..." 

You nod in agreement, giving him one last smile before heading out with your colleagues. Oh well. At least you tried. 

Edward screams at himself internally for being stupid enough to turn you down, for having so much work on his plate that he has to reject an offer to spend time with you. His logic tries to argue with him that you are just a distraction from his greater plans, but for the first time in his life, he finds himself listening to his heart rather than his head.  

The routine is disrupted. 

The following Monday, instead of clocking in at 8:30am, Edward finds himself in the office at 7:45 that morning to begin his work day. When you enter the building (earlier than usual, he notes), you manage to shake off the shock of seeing anyone else here at this time, and give Edward a little wave. 

You sigh as you sink into your chair, lazily replying to the emails that have piled up over the weekend. While this cushy job has its benefits, God, the actual work is boring.  

You catch yourself repeatedly turning subtly in your chair to watch Edward work. Even though he's so far away, you recognise that concentrated look he has on his face when a particularly messy set of fraudulent taxes have him stumped. Before you can register what you're doing, you're walking across the empty office right up to his desk and Jesus, your hands are sweaty as hell. 

You manage to discreetly wipe them on your slacks before he looks up at you, his stressed expression all the greeting you need to begin talking. "I know we usually say good morning at my desk, but you were clocked in even earlier than me this morning." Your sentence ends with an anxious giggle, and when he narrows his eyes in confusion, you continue. "I, um, couldn't help but notice that you looked a little stressed... can I get you something to help? Water, coffee, anything? I'm all finished catching up on my emails so..." 

You trail off a little awkwardly and you swear you see Edward's lip quirk up in a tiny smile before returning to his usual poker face. You mentally slap yourself for expecting to get anything out of him; it's not even 9am and you've already annoyed him. Great. 

"If it's really no bother... I take my coffee black, one sugar. Thank you." 

He says the last part quietly, looking down. You smile, and head for the break room to get his drink, your hands shaking giddily. You have somehow gotten more words out of him in five months than any of your colleagues have in five years. You see that as a win. 

Edward sees it as the complete opposite. His brain is in chaos trying to focus on work but constantly wandering back to new daydreams of you. Daydreams of living together in your shared apartment, where you make him coffee every morning and bring it to him in bed. He can't help admiring you from afar, the way your well (tight) fitting slacks cling to you in the best way, and he has to physically rest his head on his desk to remind himself of where he is before his thoughts get too carried away. 

You place the styrofoam cup down in front of Edward and he nods gratefully. You take a sip from your own cup, watching him work, before you realise you're being weird, still lingering around his desk like some creep. You cough awkwardly. "I'm, uh, going to go sit back down now, let you get back to it. I hope the coffee isn't too gross." 

It's perfect, Edward thinks as he watches you wander back to your desk, and well after 5pm, when everyone has left, he fishes through the trash can uncer your desk and retrieves your styrofoam cup from that morning, placing it in a ziplock bag and taking it home with him. 

This is Edward's new routine. He comes into work early every day and sits in the empty office, doing as much work as he can so that he can muster up the courage to one day, finally join you after work instead of being swamped with tasks. For weeks, every Friday, you invite him to come drink with your little group, and every Friday he finds some flimsy excuse to flake on you, anxiety tightening his throat and dampening his forehead. 

You begin thinking you must be bothering him- he hasn't once accepted your invitation, and you tell yourself after each awkward encounter, 'this is the last time.' Yet, each week, you find yourself stood at his desk, legs trembling and mouth dry, anticipating rejection. 

Until, one Friday in late February, he gives you an awkward smile, shuffling the mess of papers on his desk. 

"I, ah, managed to wrap up these returns... I'll come along, if you want me to." 

You can barely believe your ears, and your shock must be evident because Edward begins to flush under your gaze. You clear your throat, a bright smile on your face as you bounce on the balls of your feet. "Oh, that's great! We're ready to leave when you are." 

Your small group bursts out of the office, your noses red from the February chill. You notice Edward lagging behind a little, and slow your pace to walk alongside him. 

"I'm really glad you took us up on our offer finally. We found this sweet little hole in the wall bar only a little way from here, and happy hour lasts until 9 on Fridays." You grin at him. "I know I don't know much about you, but I really think you'll like it. The vibes are super chill, and they play some decent music. You like The Cure, right?" 

Edward tilts his head curiously, and you flush as you scramble to explain yourself, so you don’t come off as an actual stalker. 

"I, just, um... I could hear you listening to them last week when I came into work early." 

He smiles, and the sincerity of it makes your knees go wobbly. 

"Yeah, hah, I- um- listened to them a lot when I was young. I guess I never really grew out of it." He chuckles nervously, fiddling with the strap of his work bag.  

You find a booth in the corner, and your group crams in, sharing the latest office gossip and complaining about how heavy the workload has been recently. You find yourself sat next to Edward and you smile at him as you settle back into the cracked vinyl of the booth, sipping your drink. 

"I can't imagine coming into a bar and ordering water after how much you've worked this week. How are you not halfway through a bottle of whiskey right now?" You laugh lightly, beginning to feel pleasantly buzzed. Edward readjusts his glasses and thanks God that the red LED lights hide his pink cheeks. "I'm not really a big drinker... I prefer to be in control of my actions." He pauses, eyeing you clutching your drink in his peripheral vision, before clearing his throat. "N- not that there's anything wrong with drinking. I just, uh, have never really been a fan. I don't think it tastes very nice." 

You giggle, slapping his arm lightly. "You don't need to explain yourself to me, Edward. I was only kidding."  

After an hour or two, and a few more cocktails, the bar begins to liven up a little. Most of your friends have gotten up to dance, but you ignore them, deep in conversation with Edward about Gotham's current political climate. 

"I thought I was the only one! Seriously, that shitbag of a mayor gets nowhere near enough criticism. They're corrupt, the lot of them, and I can only hope they get what's coming to-" 

You pause, realising Edward is distracted. He fidgets with the sleeve of his jacket while rapidly bouncing his knee up and down, and you notice him cringing at the volume of the music. 

You lean forward, resting a hand on his arm, your voice quiet as you whisper in his ear, "wanna go for a smoke?" 

Your voice is a lovely contrast to the music blaring from the speaker, Edward thinks, and he can smell your perfume with you in such close proximity. It's sweet and flowery, and he wishes he could have you this close to him forever. 

He nods, quickly standing and leading you out of the packed bar. The cold air hits you like a slap in the face as you make your exit, and you immediately regret leaving your jacket on your seat as you hug yourself, trying to stay warm under the broken heat lamps. 

Edward fishes a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and holds it out to you. You smile gratefully, plucking one from the box and holding it between your teeth. Your freezing hands tremble, fumbling the lighter in your hands, and you groan in frustration as the wind keeps blowing the flame out. Edward watches you from the corner of his eye and chuckles lightly, a newfound wave of confidence surging through him. 

"Want a hand?" 

You sigh, shutting your eyes and nodding in defeat. Edward laughs again, and it is a lovely sound; his laugh has an almost falsetto quality to it, and you can't help but smile back at him, your cheeks warm. 

Edward takes the lighter from you, his other hand reaching to cup over your own, protecting your lips from the biting wind as he lights your cigarette for you. 

It is such a simple action. 'There's nothing behind it!' you think, but it holds such an undeniable sense of intimacy. His warm hand lingers on yours, warming your entire body, and he doesn't break your gaze when he finally pulls away to light his own cigarette. 

The two of you stand in silence for several moments, watching the smoke you breathe out dance into the night sky, disappearing from view. You feel so relaxed around him, and you turn your head to watch him study the night sky, his eyes darting this way and that before landing on you. He smiles shyly. 

"I had a nice time tonight. I... honestly wasn't expecting to." 

He notices your face fall slightly before he quickly continues. "I wouldn't usually call this kind of place my thing, but... I found myself really enjoying myself. The company certainly didn't hurt." 

You smile at that, and he eagerly returns it. 

"Forgive me if I'm overstepping, but... I'd like to take you out sometime. Just me and you, away from all the noise." 

Edward can hardly believe the words coming out of his mouth, and he's convinced he's dreaming. The smile on your face only grows. 

"You mean, like a date?" 

The redness of his cheeks deepens, and he nods, his knees feeling weak. You begin jotting something down in your notepad before pressing a folded-up piece of paper into his hand, blowing a plume of smoke just past his face. He can almost taste the nicotine and tequila on your lips as you lean towards him, your voice barely above a whisper. 

"I'm looking forward to it." 

With that, you flick your cigarette on the floor and turn on your heel, heading back into the bar. Edward unfolds the slip of paper to be met with the phone number he has had memorised since your first day working at KTMJ five months ago. 

The routine is disrupted. 

[sytoran]

𝐁𝐔𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐋𝐘 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒 ⌇ marvel ladies headcanons

summary. marvel ladies and their favourite kind of kisses to receive from you ♡

includes. yelena / wanda / maria / peggy / natasha / shuri / kate note. a very late valentines special. sfw since tumblr hates me and my mature works. (literally every single one of them have gotten flagged this isn't funny anymore) regardless, i hope you all enjoy these adorably fluffy headcanons

masterlist / AO3

──── ♥ YELENA

forehead kisses. when yelena was younger, she hated getting teased for her height. but somehow, it’s okay when it comes to you. maybe it’s because you can wrap your arms around her so easily and engulf her in your warmth, and your joy, and the life behind everything you do. or maybe it’s just the forehead kisses. you’re always gentle with yelena, loving her not in spite of her flaws but because of them, and maybe that’s why you’re so tender when you hold the sides of her face and press a kiss on her forehead. her shoulders relax, and she sighs softly, tucking her head underneath your chin, and all you can do is capture every moment in a frame of time. it’s moment like these that make yelena fall in love with you even more, when your lips are against her forehead and mumbling words that make her melt into a puddle of romances.

──── ♥ WANDA

angel kisses. it’s a sweet name for an even sweeter kiss. angel kisses are placed on the closed eyelids, and it’s something wanda really fancies, something you do all the time. the world can get so loud and unbearable – but when you wrap wanda up in your arms and place kisses on her closed eyes, she stops trembling and it becomes a little more okay. wanda’s been through so much, and the fact in itself that you’re one of the few who’ve bothered to stand by her side all the way means so much. it means more when her eyes are closed and your lips are right there, always there for her. that sweetness is comparable to an angel, so maybe that’s where it got its name.

──── ♥ MARIA

cheek kisses. for such a skilled agent, it’s surprising how you take maria by surprise every time you kiss her on the cheek. maybe that’s an emblem of how she lets down her walls around you, whether she liked it or not — you love maria, undeniably so, and though it took her far longer, she does love you too. a striking example of this is the small smile she allows to slip beyond the cold demeanour, whenever you so casually walk up to her and distractedly press a fleeting kiss on the side of her face. if it was anyone else, maria would’ve probably had them knocked out in seconds flat, but you’re not them, and your lips on her cheek are far sweeter. it’s the way you do it so absent-mindedly, too, like it’s a part of your daily routine and pepppering kisses on maria’s cheeks are a simple way of life. cute, and soft, and mushy, like those rom-com films maria hates, but she’d watch them all day, if it meant your lips would meet her cheeks once again.

──── ♥ PEGGY

back-of-hand kisses. peggy, who is so headstrong and rarely shows her tender side, unexpectedly loves back-of-hand kisses. it’s just the way you brush your lips against her skin, over the callouses and the blemishes, cherishing her as if she ever deserved that delicacy. "i absolutely adore you, my love," you would mumble, pressing your lips against her knuckles gingerly just before she leaves for work. she would bite back a smile, feeling her insides turn into mush. she thinks she can handle another day disciplining rowdy soldiers if it means she can wake another day by your side.

──── ♥ NATASHA

stomach kisses. scars and bruises and stretch marks are nothing new to natasha, and while she’d never admit she was acutely insecure of them, it does bother her to an extent that she avoids looking at her stomach in the mirror. it’s stupid, honestly, because natasha is a world-class assassin, and she’d rather look dead in the eyes of a bleeding man than her own stomach, but then you came along and flipped her world upside down. the first night you trail kisses along her stomach, lips fluttering over every scar and bruise, natasha almost cries. she's never felt so loved. you don’t say anything, and she’s grateful for your silence, but you press a few extra kisses on the bullet wounds and the beautiful stretch marks. it’s so loving and tender, that you even bother to kiss her stomach that delicately, and natasha thinks she doesn’t deserve you but you’d always tell her otherwise.

──── ♥ SHURI

neck kisses. shuri absolutely loves the sensation of neck kisses. shuri could be up in her lab, so focused on her current project, but all that fades away when you wrap your arms around her from behind, and pull her into a soft kiss on the neck. she sighs softly, then leans back into your grasp, tilting her head up to meet your eyes lovingly. you give her a lopsided, lovesick smile, still not saying anything. you just duck down to press another kiss on the narrow column of her neck, hands encircling her waist as she lets her eyes flutter shut. it's all shuri ever needed, but when your kisses start lingering a little too long and your hands start wandering a little too far, she isn't complaining, either.

──── ♥ KATE

spiderman kisses. the name is quite funny, since the two of you do know peter parker, but then again there's no other way to explain it. kate somehow always ends up on the floor, be it after a night of slumber, or playing with lucky, or watching tv. you find it so endearing, and you can't help when stand over her and peck her lips. your chins brush against each others' noses, and kate lets out a breathy laugh. both of you are smiling into the kiss, and the butterflies in kate's stomach flutter. it's so goofy, but it encaptures your relationship in the most perfect way imaginable ─ there's no need to take it too seriously, because both of you are just going with the flow. whatever happens, both of you will always be there for each other, with spiderman kisses or not.

taglist: @simp4wanda26 @natashamaximoff69 @ohsugar-honey-iced-tea @fayhar @bibliophilicbi @screechcat @rowanyaboats @nahnahnahwhat @the-night-owl-blr @matchasrad @wannabe-fic-reader @natsxwife @wandsmxmff @enanna-h @gay4lizzie @jemilyswhor3 wanna be added to the taglist to see more works like this? leave an ask in my inbox! if by any chance you want to be removed from the taglist, also leave an ask in my inbox.

man i loved writing this, got me in the feels. happy late valentines, everyone.

masterlist / AO3

[dmwrites]

Cecil: Birds of a feather stick together. But if that bird loses its way, it will be lost forever. Welcome… to NightVale.

[intro song plays]

Cecil: Listeners, today I have a guest with me here in the studio! Intern Vincent found our guest wandering in the desert as he was driving to the station this morning, and I jumped at the idea of having this guest on our show! So, why don’t you introduce yourself, mystery guest!

???: I’m… Grian. My name’s Grian.

Cecil: Well, welcome to our small community radio show, Grian! Listeners, Grian is-

Grian: Did you say listeners?

Cecil: Why yes! All of our wonderful citizens of NightVale, even the secret police, are listeners of my show!

Grian: Oh… never mind.

Cecil: As I was saying, listeners, our wonderful, if a tad interrupting-y, guest Grian is wearing a torn red sweater, black pants, and closed-toed shoes. I must say, that’s quite a fashion statement, Grian! Not too many people would wear a sweater in the desert. You must not be from around here!

Grian: I… no, I’m not. I’m not quite sure how I got here… I just… I thought I could escape the desert if I walked far enough.

Cecil: Well, as long as you’re not from Desert Bluffs, I’ll call you a friend! Eugh, Desert Bluffs, am I right? But speaking of Desert Bluffs, let me remind all of you that our half-a-millennia traditional triathlon against Desert Bluffs is almost upon us! Volunteers, taken from their homes at four in the morning with bags over their heads, will be competing in three sports events against our bitter rivals, Desert Bluffs. The three sports events, as is tradition, will be: bloodstone dodgeball, confronting the in-laws over broken boundaries, and pickleball. Good luck, NightVale athletes!

Grian: Did you just say, like, words? Like, genuinely, it feels like I just had a stroke. What on earth is a bloodstone?

Cecil: You know, I should have known you weren’t from around here, what with your funny accent. Where are you from, silly little man?

Grian: I… well, that’s a tough one, really. Hermitcraft? Third Life SMP? The Desert? All of them, I suppose. I really don’t know how I got here… I’m not sure this isn’t all a mirage.

Cecil: And you say I say strange things! Well, Grian, I was about to remark on how other cultures may not have bloodstones, but I just noticed all of the blood on your knuckles, and under your fingernails, and on the cuffs of your sweater, which I still do not think is seasonally appropriate.

Grian: Oh god. I thought I scrubbed it off with the sand. Scar…

Cecil: While we figure out the mysteries of the blood here in the studio, and Grian stares down at his hands in horror, let’s take a look at traffic. There is a man with a clock. He stands. He smiles. He will never stop smiling. They will call him a traitor someday, but for now, the traitor lies dead, the present he gave in the hands of that smiling man. They do not know that the clock, golden in its edges, will bind them together in ways they can’t even understand yet.

Grian: Scar is- Scar was my friend. I promised my life to him.

Cecil: I’ve promised my life to someone too! But it was marriage, to my beautiful Carlos. I love Carlos so much.

Grian: Scar… god, he was such a blundering fool, but with a heart and voice of gold. I didn’t think he’d get as far as he did, but we just kept getting away with it. We didn’t think about the end.

Cecil: What did this Scar wear? This is a audio medium, after all, Grian, and I must describe everything to the listeners.

Grian: He didn’t wear much, like, ever. Super annoying, too many abs.

Cecil: There is no such thing as too many abs, Grian.

Grian: I- sure, okay. Can I get back to my story now?

Cecil: Yes, please do! I am sure everyone, especially the secret police, are very interested.

Grian: I killed him with a creeper first. It was a prank, a mistake, but it really cemented the idea that this wasn’t all fun and games. It felt like fun and games for a long time, even after he died for the first time. It wasn’t until-

Cecil: And now, a word from our sponsor. Listeners, are you tired of having a perfect dog? Does your dog-food photo perfect dog leave you the laughing stock of the town? Do you ever wish you could put an imperfection on your dog so you could just fit in? Now you can, with warts! Just put warts on your precious pooch, and slide blissfully back into the dreary backdrop of life while walking them on their leashes. Dog Warts: because nothing can stay perfect forever.

Grian: I… I had to kill him. They- the ghosts of all of my friends, they told me there could only be one victor, and I… god… we stood in a circle of cactus, so we couldn’t leave, and we fought with our fists. I kept hitting him and hitting him and, god, Scar was never the best at fighting… and we were both laughing and I was crying and there was so much blood… it took so long for him to die, Cecil, and all I could do was keep hurting him, so he wouldn’t suffer. And then I was… alone. I said I was sorry, but he couldn’t hear me. No one could hear me anymore. I had won, but at what cost?

Cecil: That’s very dark! Uh, listeners, our guest Grian has a tear running down his cheek, and I am afraid he may burst into outright sobbing! To save you from that audio nightmare, I take you now to the weather!

[Howling by Lupus Nocte plays]

Cecil: Listeners, Grian is gone. He has left the station. He ran out, muttering something about “never being able to escape the desert”… whatever that means. Maybe we should stop inviting random people we find on the side of the deserted road with blood on their knuckles into the studio… but I am afraid that’s all the time we have for today, listeners. Stay tuned next for a canary, stuck in a cage made of bones, singing sadly for none to hear. NightVale, hug your loved ones close tonight. You never know what may happen next. And good night, NightVale, good night.

[lxvebun]

overflowing love

synopsis: just the boys doting on you

content: soft!Hanma/Rindou/Ran x gender neutral reader. fluff. kissing. consensual waking up by kisses. neck kisses. some canon violence but not towards reader. slightly possessive boys. Use of nicknames pretty baby/angel and sweetheart. let me know if I missed anything.

dark blogs, k!nk blogs and ed blogs do not interact. I will knock your teeth in. Its not hard to respect someones boundaries when it comes to this

୨୧Hanma Shuji

Everyone can see it, the way Shuji softens around you. It's honestly quite funny to see him switch up so quickly once you enter his vicinity. From sitting around with a bored look in his eyes and stern voice throwing around orders (or brutal insults) to physically lighting up, a small smile adorning his face as he makes a grabby hand at you, silently asking you to come into his arms.

"Just need my pretty baby to keep me company, you'll do that for me wont you?" he asks as he pulls you comfortably into his lap, and how could you deny him when his pretty golden eyes are filled with so much love and adoration, while his fingers are tracing heart shapes onto your waist and his lips are pressing soft kisses to your cheek and neck?

It doesn't matter what he was doing before you came in, or who is in the room with him, when Hanma sees you everything else leaves his mind and he's entirely focused on you and your needs. Do you need him? Did you just want to see him? Are you hungry? He can take you out for some food. Do you want to leave? He'll stop the meeting right now!

Some subordinates aren't the biggest fan of Hanma's tendencies when it comes to you, but after what happened the first time someone called him out for it, even going as far to directly insult you about it, no one dares to say anything anymore, or look at you for that measure.

If anyone has a problem with him and his pretty angel and dares to open their mouths about it, that's brave, meet him behind the building and he'll show them exactly why people call him God of Death.

୨୧Haitani Rindou

Rindou has a staring problem. More specifically a problem with staring at you.  Often you catch him looking at you, chin resting on the palm of his hands, blush on his cheeks and little hearts floating around in his eyes, as if he's admiring and studying a painting.

It's not even something he does on purpose. Of course he enjoys looking at his sweetheart, don't get me wrong, But more often than not it's something he does entirely subconscious.

When some of the other executives are over at his place, be it for a meeting or to hangout, his brain randomly decides that he's done with whatever conversation he was having and instead opts to admire you. Just you being you is far more interesting than whatever Sanzu's brabbeling on about.

He enjoys looking at you what more can I say, and can you blame him? Every time he looks at you, warmth spreads throughout his entire body and he falls in love all over again. Every scar and every mole is absolutely gorgeous to him. The way your eyes reflect the moonlight, the way the sun kisses your skin, god it awakens butterflies in him. If you told him you were an angel send down from heaven to watch over him, he would believe it.

No one holds his heart the way you do. Please, treat it gently.

୨୧haitani Ran

It's quite impressive how in tune Ran is with your well being. He picks up on the slightest shifts in your moods, the tone of your voice and expressions. If you're feeling even a tiny bit down, rest assured, Ran knows. He has now made it his life's mission to make you show that pretty smile to him again.

You're the love of his life. He wants nothing more than for you to be happy and taken care of and he's taken it upon himself to do just that. As much as Ran likes being taken care of, enjoying trips to the salon for his hair, getting massages after fights, he adores taking care of you. It's soothing for him as well. He brings hellfire down on people every day. There isn't a day that passes by where he doesn't spit out vile threats or use his trusty baton. So knowing you're safe, relaxed and happy because of him makes him feel a bit more humane

Disrupting his beauty sleep so he can prepare breakfast for you and press kisses to your pretty face as to wake you up instead of that god awful alarm? Tiny sacrifices really, but it's completely worth it seeing that sleepy smile of yours as you pat the spot next to you, silently asking him to come back to bed. And who is he to deny you? if anything it gives him the opportunity to hold you in his arms and feed you bites of breakfast( it makes his heart flutter really

Putting cups on the highest shelf in the cupboard so he has a reason to pick you up? Very amusing to him<3(menace)

Whatever problem you're having, Ran will do his best to solve it, no matter how big or small it is. Be it wrapping you in blankets and holding you in his arms as you cry on his shoulder. Or pay a visit to a creep that doesn't quite understand the gates of hell he opened when they made you uncomfortable.

He was put on this earth to love you, he's certain about that and he will go above and beyond to make sure he's doing a good job at it.

thank you for reading bunnies!<3

[quirkle2]

something i've noticed in my obsession with ritsu kageyama is that he underestimates people a lot

i think the first example of this is in episode 8, and it's absolutely littered throughout the rest of season 1. it starts with koyama, and the way ritsu says, "that guy is finished—it's over," when shigeo reaches 100%. while he Does have good reason to believe this, and so does the audience, koyama still manages to "win" by pulling a trump card that completely negates anything shigeo would be able to throw at him

when he's locked up with the awakening lab kids, his first idea is to act like he and the others don't have powers at all, which Wildly underestimates claw's communication between members. ritsu was literally noted to be an above-average esper, and "special treatment" was suggested for him. the fact that he even thought that would work at all suggests he either thinks they're incompetent (which, since all he's seen from claw is koyama so far and koyama can pack a fucking punch, is a little silly) or he's panicking and clinging to desperate, sloppy plans. it also kinda reminds you he's Literally Thirteen. god . he'sso small

also, the fact that ritsu doesn't even remember the awakening lab's kids names is another example of this—he deemed them "unimportant" during his arc, and continued to think this for a good while (i'd say he even holds onto some of those views well past the show's runtime, if his little comments about the twin's telepathy in the transmission arc is anything to go by) (also also, that <- deserves a post all on its own bc the fact that he meets another pair of siblings with esper abilities and sees that it's brought them closer instead of torn them apart . wow that makes me ill)

reminder that he listens to one of the kids "get killed" in another room and then watches a claw member drag the kid back out and throw his bloody, lifeless form to the floor. This Happens To Him. he watches this go down, and then he Continues to misjudge them. his little comment about the claw lackies "underestimating them because we're kids" is a bit funny to me now, given this entire post

he does it to shou immediately. he doesn't see a scar on him, so he immediately assumes he's lower tier and about as strong as the lackies. even after shou stomps and cracks the fucking hallway in half, ritsu walks right up to him and doesn't seem threatened. i doubt he's trivializing this situation just bc shou is a kid—that just wouldn't make sense from ritsu's perspective on things

he's already seen the biggest baddest esper in town—he lives with the guy. he knows the strongest esper is his own brother, so his view on other people's powers are very skewed. ritsu is so caught up in his trauma that he thinks shigeo is unbeatable, and i think part of that is because he was so young when The Incident occurred. anything scary that happens to you at that age is going to seem insurmountable to you, if you've never tried to overcome that fear. ritsu fully believes ???% is completely invulnerable (and yes, that's largely true) but he seems to carry that idea over to shigeo as a whole

maybe dimple's comment about ritsu being able to reach shigeo's level got more into his head than i originally thought it did—he "knows" he's at least close enough to shigeo to eventually surpass him, and since he puts shigeo's powers on a pedestal built with shaking hands, he thinks, hey, i must be pretty close to that. i must be pretty invincible too

he tends to mentally call fights finished before he's seen everything his opponent can do. ritsu straight up responds "i don't believe that," to shou's little you can't defeat me, and he's seen basically nothing in shou's arsenal

to his credit, once all the scars show up, he shuts his mouth and admits he's no match. and i think after the 7th division arc, he stops brushing people's abilities aside so much

this is why the shimazaki fight is so important for his character.

he fights him even though he Knows he'll lose. the shimazaki fight is Not ritsu underestimating him—previously, he's lost battle after battle because he truly and fully thought he'd win. he does not think he'll win this, and he's doing it purely to distract shimazaki from shou's position

ritsu kageyama is 1000% ride or die, especially when it comes to his own beliefs and trauma. i think if shou's situation wasn't as similar to ritsu's as it rly was, ritsu wouldn't have tried so hard to help him. ritsu risks his life to give this kid just a few extra minutes to deal with his father, and the way he enters the fight speaks pretty highly of how much he Wasn't underestimating him

he enters the fight by blinding shimazaki, by pulling a trick from his pocket underhandedly, and even though it obviously doesn't work, it shows that ritsu believes he'll need to do more than just use his powers like he normally does. i believe this is the first time he fights this way as well, with this covert trickery that uses his environment to his advantage—he keeps doing it throughout the fight; throwing cars, dislodging rocks to collapse ceilings. he's truly trying to think outside of the box because he entered this fight with the knowledge that he'll likely lose, and he needs more than just Himself to stay alive

but enough about ritsu underestimating claw, or awakening lab kids. i think the person he underestimates most of all is his own brother.

maybe i'm stretching the definition of "underestimate"—maybe there's a better word for it that i can't think of right now—but the way ritsu seems to think that shigeo will snap at the slightest issue in his life is... well. it's a little,,, patronizing, isn't it? he doesn't seem to have faith in shigeo's ability to keep a cool head, and even though he knows for sure that shigeo is Powerful (and even, sometimes overestimates that aspect of him) i think he tends to undermine his control over that power, tends to believe he'll blow up and scarcely doubting that assumption. he grew up like that, constantly in fear of his brother unleashing that "monster" again, and that in and of itself is an example of ritsu not having enough faith in his brother

when he sees onigawara talking to shigeo loudly in the hallway, ritsu sees how nervous shigeo is and narrows his eyes, like he senses something building in him. when reigen gets slashed during the 7th division arc, the fear in ritsu's gaze is not directed to reigen's "killer," it is directed to his brother, in fear of an oncoming explosion. and i Would say he gets better at this, but even at the tail end of s3, at the beginning of confession arc, ritsu fully believes (until he sees the car that hit shigeo, i think) that ???% came around because tsubomi rejected him. he thinks his brother would react so negatively to that, that other side of him would come out to wreak havoc.

when mob Does actually ask tsubomi out, he just cries when he's rejected. he reacts like every other teenage boy reacts, by quietly crying to himself. it's a very normal thing—after the absurdity and the sheer vastness of power and destruction the audience was just put through, mob walking away and crying quietly about being rejecting by a love interest is the first taste of normalcy we've had in like three episodes. what ritsu thought would spark this is actually the thing that calls the story and the audience back to a place that is solid and grounded

i'm not saying ritsu is a bad brother—that is so so SO far from my point—i'm saying that he's young and he's full of multitudes, and that includes mistakes. and that is Refreshing

this little guy is So full of faults, and it's one of the many things i love about him. he's a character that's practically built upon flaws with "good traits" as an afterthought, instead of the other way around, and the fact that he's been written like that, but introduced to be the polite, honor student, supportive, younger brother type is So Fuckin Cool!

it compliments his arc perfectly, because the reason big cleanup arc starts is because he's tired of being all that. he's tired. i never stop thinking about his maybe i wanted to find out what it would feel like to be a fool, it's Such a good line, and even if his reasonings for big cleanup arc seem nonsensical to some, i think it makes perfect sense in this odd, fucked up way. he literally Says it, right there. he explains everything in those few lines during that rooftop scI'M GETTING OFF-TOPIC

ritsu is a good character and his numerous flaws are what make him interesting to me. if he stayed that polite, honor student, supportive, younger brother type, i probably wouldn't give a shit about him. he is interesting Because he's made some pretty bad choices, Because he's made some pretty disgusting assumptions. he's a kid, fumbling along, with trauma dragging him by the wrists. i could talk about him for hours

[vii-doodles]

StaticApple week day 4: helluva boss ref/ free choice

I had the moment where Stolas got kidnapped and blitzø saw him getting brought to the hospital saying the line 'he can get hurt?'

But I don't feel like it's coming across from my comic? I have a proper helluva ref one too (which is a funny one dw) but I will post that at the end of this all!

Little fic idea I had for this under the cut

The battle was brutal. The exterminators were merciless as ever, their angelic weapons cutting through the air with deadly precision. In a heartbeat, Lucifer saw an angelic spear hurtling towards Vox. Without a second thought, he threw himself in its path. The spear pierced through his back, emerging from his chest in a burst of divine energy. Golden blood splattering on the ground. He can't help but whince at the pain, a small tear forming from the fiery feeling. It didn't hurt anything lethal though, since he didn't need his lungs for breathing anyways, but if that spear had gotten to Vox's sinner body...

A sharp gasp escaped his lips, but he remained standing, defiant.

Lucifer's hand gripped the spear's shaft, and with a grunt, he pulled it free, the wound already beginning to close thanks to his angelic resilience. "Vox!" he called out, his voice thick with worry.

Vox needed a full second to realize what just happened in front of him. He took the rest of his energy to get up and run towards Lucifer.

"Are you okay??"

Getting catched by the wounded angel in a tight embrace.

"I'm okay, love"

"Don't ever scare me like that again!!"

Vox trembled in the embrace, holding tight like he would lose him the second he let's go.

Lucifer couldnt help but smile at the tightening embrace, ignoring the stingy feeling of his wound against Vox's tight grip. He hugged him back.

"ok ok I won't, I promise"

He got a little distance between them to examine Vox only to see how horribly hurt Vox was and his heart nearly stopped. His abdomen torn open and one leg missing. Where his foot should have been, cables spilled out, sparking with light electrical bolts. Vox's face, usually so composed, was contorted in pain but he was smiling at Lucifer.

"Vox!" Lucifers eyes widened at the sight of it all. The blood was smeared all over them, still leaking from Vox's abdomen.

"Are you okay, you'd don't look OK, Vox??"

Vox smile turned into a grimace as he tried to not focus on the pain and warning messages flooding his systems. "I'm... I'm fine, Lu," he said, his voice glitching. His screens flickered with static, and he nearly fainted, his body trembling with the effort to stay conscious.

Lucifer’s heart ached at the sight. "No, you're not. Hold on, love. I've got you." He placed his hands over Vox's torn abdomen, his eyes glowing with divine energy. Warm, golden light emanated from his palms, enveloping Vox in a soothing, healing embrace.

The light seeped into Vox’s wounds, knitting the torn flesh and reconnecting the severed cables. Vox’s screens flickered, then stabilized as the healing energy flowed through him. His abdomen began to close, the gaping wound shrinking until it was nothing but a faint scar. His leg, though still missing, ceased its electrical sparking, the cables retracting and stabilizing.

Vox’s breath steadied, his face relaxing as the pain subsided. He opened his eyes, looking up at Lucifer with awe. He wasn't aware lucifer could heal others. "You suprise me everyday" he whispered, his voice steady once more.

Lucifer smiled, his eyes softening. "I told you, Vox. I’m not letting anything happen to you." He brushed a hand over Vox’s screen, the gesture tender despite the chaos around them.

Vox managed a chuckle, albeit a weak one. "You always have to be the hero, don't you?"

Lucifer laughed softly. "Only for you." He leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to Vox’s forehead. "Let's get you out of here."

Carefully, Lucifer helped Vox to steady his stands. Though Vox's leg was still missing, he managed to stand with Lucifer's support. They made their way through the battlefield, the light of Lucifer's divine power warding off any remaining threats but overall the battle was over with a the the portal to Heaven closing in.

As they finally reached the safety of the hotel, Lucifer looked at Vox, his expression serious. "You need to rest and fully recover. No arguments."

Vox nodded, leaning heavily on Lucifer. "No arguments," he agreed. "Thank you. For everything."

Lucifer smiled, his eyes filled with love. "Always, Vox. Always."

[inators]

From that one prompt that said 'Heinz Doofenshmirtz has died'

The main console nearly bowed to the power of Perry's fists as he slammed them down, chair behind him clattering to the ground from the force at which he stood. He glared up at the screen, murder in his eyes and a ferocious curl to his lip. That was not funny.

Major Monogram and Carl glanced at each other, then back down at Perry with some amount of trepidation. Everyone knew of Perry's less-than-professional connection to Heinz Doofenshmirtz; they just didn't know how deep that connection ever went. "We understand that this might come as a bit of a... shock. We just got the news ourselves."

Perry's fists clenched even harder, if such were possible; his nails dug into his palms as he ground his teeth. Heinz, dead? Impossible. He had just thwarted him yesterday. The resultant explosion from his self-destruct button shouldn't have been near enough to cause serious harm. Not to the most resilient man he knew. Could it be? Did someone finally manage to thwart his nemesis? But that was his job. Who else... What else...?

( If this was Peter's work, he thought savagely, then OWCA would have a rogue agent on its hands in no time flat. )

「Show him to me,」demanded the agent without preamble, his signage snapped out restlessly. He held up a finger when Carl opened his mouth to object.「Now.」

Carl pressed a button. A pneumatic tube appeared next to Perry, which he tried not to hurry into. His mind was still reeling from the news... If it was news. Some elaborate plan, perhaps — or a duplicate, a clone, a doppelgänger of some sort. He'd cloned Perry before. Why not himself? He felt sick. His stomach was tying itself in knots. It was as if his body knew, even if he refused to believe it himself. Don't be dead, Heinz, he prayed, his heart beginning to ache as its beat thundered in his ears. Don't. Don't. Don't.

The morgue was clean in a way that was disturbing even to Perry. Every inch of it gleamed with a sickening promise. I will take him, it whispered as Perry exited the tube. I will take him and tear him apart.

He was so small.

Perry swallowed hard and approached the gurney, his body beginning to shake. Monogram and Carl stood nearby the tube, but he didn't care about his audience just now. Heinz — wonderful, ridiculous, extraordinary Heinz — lay there cold and lifeless. His arms were missing; someone had put them to the side in preparation for the autopsy, he guessed, but it only served to make his nemesis look... Tiny. Frail. Helpless. His fingers danced over his narrow forehead, down his cheek and along his neck where he finally stopped to check for a pulse. He bent, listening for a cough, a breath, anything, but nothing came. His own breath caught in his throat. No. No-no-no.

Ever so slowly, ever so painfully, Perry realized that yes, he was looking at his esteemed beloved cherished nemesis. He could remember every burn, every scar, both pink and grey, old and new. They were all there. Every single mark, every single story, mapped out on the stiff body displayed before him.

Perry choked.

Was he sick, or was that a sob? There was a constriction in his throat that he didn't recognize, and a wetness in his eyes that he refused to name. He breathed hard through his mouth, tried to let the pressure out, but he couldn't. For once, Perry the Platypus couldn't control himself. His fingers clenched on the side of the gurney as he tried and failed to stem his tears, determinedly blinking them away. Heinz wouldn't want him to cry. He would never want Heinz to see him crying. He needed to be the personification of unstoppable, dynamic fury that Heinz knew. For Heinz, he needed to be Agent P.

I never got to tell you, he lamented, and let his fingers trace over Heinz's cheek again. I never got to tell you... but I will show you.

He took one last look at Heinz, not knowing what his expression looked like — not wanting to know what his expression looked like — and turned away, heading back for the tube.

"Agent P — " Monogram tried; but Perry shouldered past him and took the tube back to his lair, where he shouldered his jetpack and headed straight for Doofenshmirtz Evil, Inc. He would find out who did this if it took his last breath.

And they would pay.

[snazzilystoopid]

What it's like to date Cole Brookstone

The dragons rising trailer gave me Cole fever 😭😭 so yk I just gotta do a Cole post to appreciate this lego man's existence

Enjoy this yall heheh

Starting off strong: texting. The guy will spam you if you don't answer within 5 minutes

He's always worrying if something bad had happened to you 😭

He's also a ninja (obviously) so he's gonna be busy most of the time

That doesn't mean he doesn't make time for you though heheh

Before he'd leave for a mission he'd send you a sweet message, or leave small pouch of your favourite sweets for you

For your 3 month anniversary, he got you a pair of headphones

They're extra special bc they match with his <3

He sends you gym pics. Ok? He just does.

Mainly because he knows on the other side of that screen you're a blushing mess

Sometimes Cole will just walk around you shirtless to tease you, because he knows you're always gonna be staring

If you can bake, this man will BEG you to make cakes.

If you can't, you at least try. He'll always eat them, even if they are a little burnt

Its the thought that counts though, right?

His love language is touch, so you guys cuddle often

If cuddling isn't really your thing, that's okay! He'll settle for always holding your hand

When it comes to kissing however, hes so passionate that you usually have to lean on something, like a wall or a table 😭

When things get a little steamy he'll definitely be hoisting you up and wrapping his arms around you

(HELP WHY AM I GRINNING WHILE WRITING THIS AHAHAHAHSHS)

Your dates usually consist of desert places, picnics, and CD/Vinyl records shopping

He love love loves music so whenever you tag along with him to these shops he loves it, and also really appreciates the company

Sometimes you both put in one ear each of Cole's earphones and just lie on his bed together listening to music

Its so therapeutic for both of you

He tried to teach you how to play the drums a few times, but you're horrible at it, sorry 💀

(Unless you can acc play the drums ofc)

When you met Lou, he told you a bunch of funny stories about his dance lessons as a kid

Cole gets so annoyed whenever he does this but you think its cute <333

Lou would also go on to tell you how much Lily would've loved you

It felt a little uncomfortable talking about his mother, because you know how much of a sensitive subject it is for him

But Cole did agree, you reminded him a little of his mother

In truth, Lou sees himself and Lily in you and Cole

Although he denies it, Cole loves it when you trace his scars

Especially the ghost scar on his forehead

Also loves it when you trace his jaw

Whenever you randomly do, I promise this guy WILL just melt right there

Since his hair is really long, you're always trying out random hairstyles on him

He always protests, but he really does love it hehe

The man is such a tease, sometimes he'll swoop down to capture your lips in a kiss, only for him to kiss the corner of your mouth instead

Other times (when you're alone ofc,) Cole trails kisses down your neck and just randomly stops, and you always complain

He finds you so adorable when you're complaining 😭

He has a passion for singing, but will never sing in front of anyone apart from you

Most of the time, whenever he sings to you its a love song that both of you like 🥰

He's usually a pretty chill boyfriend, and doesn't normally get jealous

But on the very rare occasion that he does, he won't show it

Instead he'll get all pouty and whenever you ask what's wrong, his only response is to pull you into a hug

He'll most likely feel a little self-conscious and wonder if you're becoming uninterested in him

DONT give Cole a reason to feel sad. Do not. 😒

Anyways

He didn't tell the ninja he had a partner until Jay and Nya spotted you two in a vinyl records store holding hands

They interrogated the poor thing for like 3 hours when he got back

But once they all met you they really liked you!

Kai and Jay subjected you to more embarrassing Cole stories, which the earth ninja was NOT happy about

He prefers to spend time with you alone, away from other people

He vents to you a lot of the time and tells you about his struggles and his feelings

Hes actually really open with you, but he never pressures you to tell him anything

He wants to be able to earn your trust <3

(Sorry for any typos!!)

That is all ! I hope you guys enjoyed this little hc post 🤭 stay tuned for more !!