#anyway. i hope wherever he is he has food poisoning or something.

[jtownnn]

in general i don't want to be the kind of person who holds grudges but it's been eight years since a doctor told me not to worry about having thyroid cancer because "it was the good kind" and if i ever see that dude again we're squaring up in a parking lot

[accidentally-in-fictional-love]

🤔🕸️🍭 please

Honey and Syrup - Sweet Bob Taylor Headcanons

Warnings: Too much sweetness to handle (I hope!) 🥰

Notes: This boy needs more love and the movie should've shown him more it's criminal- anyway these ended up being a bit romantic-coded and readery at times so I hope that's okay, thanks so much for the request 💗💗💗

despite growing up tasting poison on his tongue all his life, kissing him tastes like honey and syrup, something he doesn't understand

his touches are gentle, careful, afraid to hurt the way he was even though he could never hurt a fly

he loves rubbing his thumb over wherever his hand is resting on you, or combing his fingers lightly through your hair, the movements keeping them and his brain busy from things that might upset him and focusing on what matters to him

if you're close enough he can never help but let his lips brush over whichever part of you is closest, not to kiss but to just feel you there and get a taste of the calmness you radiate

he always asks permission before doing anything even if it's just sharing space on the couch, although if it's something he does enough times it starts to come more naturally

he commits everything he likes to memory, and although sometimes it gets a little lost when his anxiety starts to flare up he'll just shut his eyes and find his way back again until he calms down

this includes info about you, like how you like your tea and what your favourite movie is, which he bought the last time he was out so you could watch together when you visit

he enjoys the moments when his compulsion fades away, when the need to just hold a pencil in his hand or trace shapes on his leg is enough to stop him from adding more to the walls

he finds comfort in routine, something familiar he can do without thinking, and having someone there with him to help never fails to bring a smile to his face

he's afraid of cuddling at first, not wanting to be clingy and scare you away, but after a while he opens up more, wraps his arms around you and holds you tight until he feels safe

he feels safest in your arms though, his hand always finding your own and lacing your fingers together to let him know you're still there

he's used to flavourless things, buying whatever protein-filled thing is cheapest to stockpile because it's easy and cooking can become too much for him, so getting to steal your snacks becomes a guilty pleasure (you don't mind but he's always convinced he shouldn't be eating this much sugar before dinner)

he doesn't enjoy being outside unless he has to be, but a trip to the lake far away from town where the water is just warm enough to swim and the air is filled with the scents of the surrounding food trucks and the salty air of the beach makes him realize that maybe it isn't so bad, but that could also be because you're there to make sure he knows how it feels to live, not just exist

when he's at his most content he can't help but smile to himself over nothing, hands still for once as he gets a moment of reprieve from his past

shopping with him for things to fill his apartment with is almost a hassle, he can talk himself out of anything that doesn't aid the public illusion that He's Okay and Functional, but after he impulse buys a mug that makes him think of you he starts to get it, just a little bit

he's thankful every day that you don't have a problem with his mazes or his compulsion, even when he's at his worst and he draws until his fingers are darkly stained with smudged ink he can't help but thank you for not getting mad, for patiently letting him finish

he doesn't have his own taste in music, preferring to listen to whatever you recommend to him because it reminds him of you while everything else can always loop around to something unpleasant in his brain

he loves the slow songs the most, the ones that sing about love and how they all seem to perfectly describe how he feels about you, but the fast ones that get you both to hold hands and dance around the room are a lot of fun too, you're the only one who can get him to dance and enjoy himself freely

buying and sleeping in a proper bed makes him feel small for the first few nights, like he doesn't fill the space despite his size, but having you next to him and getting to smell your presence left behind on your pillow and in the blankets makes it feel more like home

he thinks that you might be the reason why his mouth stops tasting like poison and more like honey and syrup as he cups your cheek and kisses you, savouring the way your smile spreads to his own lips along with your sweetly flavoured chapstick

[dioslab]

Happy Valentine’s Day! I was participating in @mcyt-valentines and my giftee was @honey-sunsets ! Hope you like it!

Scar lives a pretty simple life.

It’s not as bad as you’d think, running a burger shop in the middle of the busiest district of Hermitia. At least, not now that the hype of Hotguy’s Burgers has died down. When he opened, he was immediately overrun by fans of the superhero, willing to buy anything with Hotguy��s branding on it. Of course, Scar was immediately called a conman, a bastard capitalizing on their city’s newest hero. A photo of them together put up in the front hall (edited so well that no one would suspect it to be fake), along with an interview from the hero himself saying he didn’t mind, eased some folk…

But the novelty wore off anyway, and now it’s just an averagely busy burger joint. So he wakes up, gets ready for work, and then opens up shop as soon as his employees arrive. Scar doesn’t normally take breaks- at least, not consistent ones- but he makes sure that Cub and Bdubs get theirs.

It’s during one of their shared lunch breaks that the bell rings on the door. It’s odd- this hour, they generally get no customers, which is exactly why Scar feels safe to send off his employees. Not that he can’t work the kitchen himself, no, but while the kitchen is disability-friendly, it’s still not… ideal, for him to be doing all the cooking. He generally sticks to taking orders and making the drinks.

Still, a single customer isn’t too hard to handle alone, and he lifts his head with a smile. “Well hello there, and welcome t-”

His words catch in his throat when he sees her.

The woman in the doorway is stunning. She’s shrugging off an oversized pink fur coat- Scar keeps it much warmer in here than it is outside- as he stares, though she doesn’t seem to mind his gaze, smiling back at him. She must be used to it. Of course she is, considering she’s-

“Are you closed?” Ariana Griande asks him, glancing around the empty shop. Her brightly colored feathers ruffle a little behind her. He has no idea what that means, he’s never looked much into avian body language, but he’s delighted at the motion anyway. He’s never seen them move that, well… fluidly, he supposes? She rarely moves them on stage, and when they do, it always seems to be part of her performance. This looks so much more natural.

It takes him a moment to even realize what she’s asked. “Oh, no, of course not! Especially not for a bigshot like you!” He rolls his chair around the counter to be a little closer to her- to the pop sensation he’s been following since the start of her career. “No, you’re lucky, you caught me during one of our slower hours. You can sit wherever you’d like, take your pick!”

Ariana Griande giggles- she laughed! Because of him!- and actually takes a seat at the counter, right in front of where he was a moment ago. She picks up a menu, her well-manicured nails tapping against the countertop as she flips through it, the restaurant nearly silent otherwise. He can’t pull his eyes away from her. “Any recommendations?” she asks after a moment.

“Well, that certainly depends on you. Any allergies, foods you avoid, flavors you like, are you looking for a full meal or just need something quick?” Scar rattles off quickly. They’re his usual questions he asks anyone looking for a recommendation, but he guarantees, her answers will be engraved into his memory.

Just like her smile when it’s aimed right at him. “Well, you know.” She rustles her wings again. “No meat, no caffeine, avocados, onions, chocolate…”

“Right, right,” he should have realized. Though, again, he isn’t an expert on avians, and he’s fairly sure that the only consistent poison across all avians is meat, so he certainly wouldn’t have known about the others. “Well, I’d recommend, hm, the Scarassic Park,” Scar says, leaning as far as he can over the counter and flipping through her menu to point it out. It’s a large vegetarian burger, overflowing with toppings. “I can just leave the avocado off. And as for drinks, we have an excellent selection of smoothies, all recipes created by myself, Scar Goodtimes. The Lime Llama is my favorite, personally, it has lime and green apple with a bit of brown sugar to even out the sourness.”

Ariana Griande glances at him, eyebrows raised slightly. “Scar Goodtimes? Then you’re the owner?”

It’s… interesting she knows that just from his name. Though maybe menu items named after him are a bit of a giveaway, but still. “The one and only!”

She seems to have lost all interest in ordering, instead resting her chin on her hand and leaning in a little towards him. He swears, his heart stops, she’s truly gorgeous this close. Later, when he’s out of work mode, he’ll lose his mind. Seeing Ariana Griande in person has always been a dream of his. “I was hoping to meet you,” she murmurs, practically a whisper.

Scar’s hand is trembling a little as he sets it on the counter by hers. There’s- there must be a reason for it, but his mind runs away with it anyway. Ariana Griande wanting to meet him? “And why is that, Miss Griande?”

“You can call me Ari,” she corrects him,fluttering her eyelashes, and he immediately decides to call her that forever. Does he really have permission to call her a nickname? “I’ve just been interested in trying Hotguy’s Burgers since it opened,” Ari says, nails tapping the counter again. “Everything’s been so busy since we started recording for my next album, though…”

“Oh, I’m sure it’s worth it,” Scar says, only barely holding back from gushing. Her only released song from thank u, vex is In My Head (Games), which he started listening to on loop as soon as it dropped. He can’t wait for the rest of the album- it’ll make a great addition to the music he plays at the restaurant.

“It is,” Ari agrees, leaning in even more and lowering her voice. It feels so… intimate, especially in an otherwise empty building. “But you know, I’m actually a huge fan of Hotguy.”

His heart actually does stop this time. He has fans. Scar knows he has fans. He’s been stopped by all types of people, from children to the mayor of Hermitia, all thanking him and calling themselves his fans. Still, for Ariana Griande, his celebrity crush, to come to his restaurant, to tell him to his face that she’s a fan, even if she doesn’t know who he is-

“As far as I know, Hotguy’s Burgers is the only branding he’s allowed,” she continues. “Why is that?”

Ah, the age old question. He’s… sure he planned a response to this, if it ever came up, but all of his thoughts fell right out of his head, replaced with the fact that Ariana Griande is his fan. Scar sputters a little, trying to remember what to say. “Oh- well, you know, that isn’t true! There’s quite a lot of, of Hotguy merchandise out there, I’m sure you’ve seen people wearing hoodies or hats or-”

“Those don’t count,” Ari interrupts. “Hotguy openly said he was fine with Hotguy’s Burgers. He hasn’t said that about any of the unofficial merchandise, and he definitely hasn’t posed for photos with people who make it.” She turns her head, twirling a piece of her hair as her gaze falls on the photoshopped image of him shaking hands with himself.

“Well, that’s-” He had excuses, he planned for this, but it all falls to pieces in front of her. “We had a chance encounter,” Scar finally remembers, though he doesn’t sound nearly as charming and convincing as he usually does. “I’d hit hard times, he was generous about it, etcetera-”

That gets a laugh out of her, and he feels dizzy. Her eyes are shining with interest. “Really?” Ari sighs, almost musically. “I’ve always wanted to meet him in person.”

“I’m sure you will,” he blurts out, and it’s true. Not that she knows that, not yet, but- when he knows she’s interested? When she wants to meet him? Yes, yes, Hotguy will hang around her concerts when they let out, he can arrange a ‘chance encounter’, whatever she wants.

Her expression changes more, but he can’t put a finger on how. Scar feels like he can’t even think. Ari’s eyes shine almost inhumanly, her beautiful smile is too sharp, and her nails tap hard on the counter. “You promise?”

“I promise.” He can’t hold the words back. Especially not when she looks so happy-

And the world shakes.

Things fall off the walls, and through the front window he can see smoke pouring out of a hole in the building across the street. Even with how thick the restaurant walls are, he can hear metal groaning, can hear screams as the building starts to bend under its own weight, the structure weakened from… an explosion?

Oh. Oh no.

“Oh,” Ari gasps. It’s high pitched, frightened- dramatic.

Scar blinks, trying to get ahold of his thoughts, his mind starting to clear. Ari’s charisma is intoxicating, but this threat is quick to distract him. He needs to go into the back- get his prosthetics, his costume, get going, but Ari is right here, she’d know-

“I guess the Scarassic Park will have to wait.” She gets up from her seat, staring out the front windows. “I’ll see you soon, Scar.”

Before he can say a word, warn her against going outside, how dangerous it is, the whole building could collapse- she’s gone. Scar takes a moment, only a moment, to catch his breath, to let his mind fully clear, and then he’s gone into the back, readying up as fast as he can.

Despite the danger, the people who need help, that interaction runs through his mind again and again. Ariana Griande, his fan, prying a promise out of Scar Goodtimes that she’ll get to meet Hotguy. She looked… odd, near the end of their conversation, her eyes and smile almost familiar, and not just in the seen-her-on-TV way.

He puts it out of his mind for now, and in a flash, Hotguy is on the scene, explosive arrows notched in his bow. A few aimed charges take out smaller chunks of the building, evening out the tilt and stabilizing it long enough to safely evacuate the inhabitants. As he runs through the building, his prosthetics heating up uncomfortably from the fires set by the explosions, he spots another civilian in need of help.

Or, so Hotguy assumes, before he gets close enough to look through the smoke. Cuteguy sits in the frame of an open window, his pitch black wings hanging out of it, prepared to fall back and make his escape at any moment. Hotguy pauses at the edge of the room- he’s never gotten so close to the villain, the one that designed himself after Hotguy, his costume and name all mocking him. It’s clear this person sees himself as Hotguy’s nemesis, but he’s always been interested as to why-

And then Cuteguy reaches a hand up, lowering his pink sunglasses enough for him to see his eyes unhindered- as Cuteguy flutters his eyelashes at him.

Oh.

[eldritch-spouse]

the post with the masochistic( I CAN'T BELIEVE I WROTE THAT RIGHT THE FIRST TIME)s/o and the biting part made me wonder how the others feel about it. Do they like it or dislike it and since Vinnel's condition prevents him from staying consistent for too long will he just lack doing it and receiving?(I feel non-canon wise he'd be afraid to be slurped up)More specifically how would Morell and Grimbly react?Obviously taking a bite out of Morell is deadly but is it still impactful if it's like a small bite?Will my mosquito vampire find it odd?

Hope you a a good day!

Do they bite?

[Nah fam, I got 'em on a leash. Excluding Breg for this.]

Fasma's fangs might feel a little weird in your skin, since they usually mold a little, unless he's feeling hostile. He will bite if you ask him too, though not very hard, and he'll never extend his fangs either. Generally, he prefers doing it with his second form's blunt teeth. In his standard form, Fasma does not want to get bitten. At all. He's tiny, you're gonna take a chunk off him!

Vinnel could only ever bite you in a really good day in terms of physical consistency. These days are rare as snowflakes and he makes the most out of them. Besides, he's learning how to slowly expose very specific parts of himself without much danger. He has a myriad of broken sharp teeth and he will bite. Hard. Just to make you scream. You can bite back, but the taste will probably repell you at light speed.

Gallon prefers nipping rather than full on biting, and you'll have to nudge him a tad to make him use more teeth. He'll never use the sharper ones, those cut very easily. You can definitely bite him, though it doesn't have an erotic effect, and mostly just results in you coughing his slime back out- Which he finds hilarious.

Morell is like a crocodile. When that jaw clamps down on something, getting him to let go is near impossible. Those teeth may be blunt but they are not fucking around. Though Morel does like to bite, he's very gentle about it and never does it in places with low fat. Don't feed this urge, he might just take a real chomp out of you someday. I also don't advise you to bite a poisonous monster. Ever. Best case scenario you get a high, worst case you die.

Santi looooves to bite! He's all about teeth and tongue, and he's not shy about it. Though, he'll always be chaste about it unless given permission to draw blood. Pain can be very quickly transformed into pleasure, and he knows just the right balance to keep you on your toes. Most demons love the taste of blood anyway. You better bite him back, as hard as you can, make him howl. He'll almost be disappointed if you don't.

Grimbly is someone I recommend you don't let bite you much, if at all. Given the fact that's how he feeds, by biting others in zones where the skin is particularly thin, his brain might jumble and he'll fully extend his fangs, perforating your body a great deal. Grimbly is aware of this, but still risks nipping you from time to time. You can bite him, but not too hard, he'll feel threatened.

Ludwig is not a demon that bites a lot, and for good reason. When wrath demons get into it, they go hard, and if Lud were to accidentally draw blood, it would only drive him to bite harder, grind his teeth, stretch the skin. Listen, he doesn't want to maul you, so the most you'll get are brief, squeezing bites. He loves it when you bite back, it revs him up beyond measure, since wrathful couplings are especially wild and harsh, though you better lean out of the way when he snaps his teeth back at you.

Patches does not have a mouth normal enough to properly bite you. It'll just look sad and dumb. He doesn't even have lips. He uses magic to handle his food, chewing is not exactly necessary. Because, again, he can't really chew. That being said, you're more than welcome to bite him. Put him in his place, bite hard, wherever you want. Listen, if you really wanted to, I'm positive Patches would let you bite his dick. And that's that on that.

Sybastian... My gal/dude/person, have you seen those teeth? Please, never encourage this half-feral bozo to bite you. But you can bite all you want, even softly on his tongue, that gets him hard real fast...

Krulu will bite you only ever in very private settings and solely to mark. Never more than the very tip of his teeth is used, otherwise you'd get mauled. I advise you not to bite at all unless you want to get immediately put in your place.

Physically cannot bite

Nebul; Fank-e.

[kankuroplease]

Can you tell us more about Katsura and her relationships with Shino? :)

Well this came out longer than expected BUT it is sectioned (not proof read, so oops). Hope you enjoy 🖤

About Katsura

For starters, she’s very aware that she’ll never be this great kunoichi. She’s not from a major clan that has special techniques, her chakra is barely above average, and her size is a disadvantage.

So to compensate for what she sees as short comings; She trains, studies, and tries to keep up with her teammates/not be a burden.

Will train with her sister even past her team training exercises.

Katsura is very logical about things. There’s always a logical explanation or way of handling things.

Loves writing and will carry a notebook to write in wherever she may go.

She also enjoys dressing up just because on her off days.

Doesn’t want anyone to look at her though. It’s annoying and uncomfortable to her when people she doesn’t know pay her too much attention.

She isn’t proud of it, but she has played dumb and showed some skin to get information on missions. It’s amazing how idiotic some people are over cleavage 💀

Very envious of civilians with soft hands and has definitely invested in creams to try and help with her callouses

She has been helping at her grandparents bakery from time to time for as long as she can remember.

Its one of the reason she bakes so much. She doesn’t want to get rusty~ the other is it seems to make her friends happy.

Never had a crush before Shino and just assumed she wasn’t capable of feeling like that. Genuinely curious how people can just develop crushes on people they don’t really know.

Gets really excited when one of the beetles she raises does well/finds a mate. Like she is so proud of her beetle-companion.

Also gets very upset if it gets flung off a branch by its competitor or mate. She will pout and try to soothe said beetle-companion.

Beyond ticklish. Tries to hide it but even the slightest playful touch of her neck will have her laughing and snorting.

Touch starved, honestly. Will never admit it but she loves hugs. They make her feel warm and fuzzy.

She doesn’t remember her mother at all because she was so young when she passed away, but she still will visit her grave to ask her to watch over her father. He’s getting old and he’s still a recluse.

Absolute morning person and likely to want to crash before 8 pm if she’s not on a mission

Poisonous~ no but fr, she’s crafted her own poison to coat her sword in

Her sword is her baby. Custom made just for her by her father. No one is allowed to handle it for the previous reason.

How It Started

When she met Shino, it was simply by chance. Her dad told she was small but strong like a beetle.

And unfortunately, the beetle he compared her too got away before she could observe it and collect information on it properly.

So she went searching for her escaped beetle and ran into Shino.

Who told her he had no seen that bug but told her where can probably find one.

She was highly insulted but her father raised her not to let her emotions take control of her actions

So she let it go (sort of) and followed his advice. Which did lead her to her first pet beetle

After that, she made a point of saying hi or waving to Shino whenever she’d see him around for helping her out.

And they built a friendship over the years and all was fine with the world. They’d go bug hunting and Shino became someone she really respected and enjoyed talking to.

She could listen to him talk about insects all day because he sort of lights up and his knowledge was pretty impressive

And his voice is nice too~

Also, she really liked his dad too. He was so kind and even accepted cookies she had baked for Shino before realizing he was on a mission.

She totally loves Shinos bugs (before she realized she loved Shino)! even asked their names. Not that she would remember all of them or even recognize one from the other, she was just very curious about these special little guys.

It took the coming of war for her to realize just how much Shino actually meant to her.

And she didn’t expect to survive the war either. So she put all her feelings in an origami beetle that she gave to Shino.

It wasn’t like anyone unfolds them anyways, so it’s safe.

But by some miracle, they both survive.

Now she’s blushing heavily whenever he’s around because ‘oh no’, yes she’s always been aware his conventionally good looking but this feeling keeps growing and now his looks are a burden on her heart and mind

She was honestly pretty embarrassed about that origami beetle he still has sitting a little too close to light for her comfort.

All it would take is for him to look at it in the light to see her confession and she’s not even supposed to be alive to face this possibility.

Tried asking her father what he liked about her mother and none of that matched her (soft figure and extroverted bubbly personality) and Aori gave her ‘the talk’ while completely red faced.

And once she told her teammates, they basically told her to stop being a chicken and just tell him how she feels.

now Katsura does find that just telling him would be the most logical thing to do… but it’s easier said than done.

What if he doesn’t feel the same? Can they still be friends?

Shino pricked up on her not so subtle changes in behavior and wasn’t sure what to make of it.

She’s standing closer, stealing glances when she thinks he’s not looking, jumping a bit when he’d call her name, blushing and losing train of thought whenever their hands accidentally brush, etc.

He’s almost certain he knows what all this means, but maybe it’s just wishful thinking?

Katsura has always smiled easily for him and never seemed to forget him no matter how long it took for them to see each other again.

Maybe it was the way she always was so proud to show him her latest beetle she nurtured from larval or how she seriously always told his beetles to take care of him for her before any missions no matter how small.

Perhaps it was the fact that she always told him she thought he was amazing

Maybe it was the way they both could comfortably enjoy each other’s company without words

Or maybe the way she fussed over the children’s novel she was writing.

The way she always made sure other acknowledged him in group settings by mentioning him or asking him questions.

Her snorting laugh that she’s so embarrassed about had grown on him too. Also made it easy to find her

But at some point he’d developed a crush of his own, so it would be great if she felt the same.

It’s not until Kiba discovers the origami beetle and ask who gave him the love letter

Shino’s like… love letter?

Kiba holding it up to the light so Shino can faintly see the writing in it.

Kiba guesses it’s probably from that mean little thing that always seems to be around Shino these days. In fact, he’s pretty sure it’s her because of the faint scent still on it.

Shino looks calm on the surface but inside, Shino.exe has stopped working. Some quite a few bugs are escaping and kiba is cackling because he f**kin’ KNEW IT!!

Now they’re both acting strangely with each other trying to figure out their timing but what better timing than during one of their forest walks?

Shino waits until they’re absolutely alone (None of his bugs spotted Katsura’s nosy teammates) and Katsura is distracted by if her beetle is ready to find a mate/leave home.

She’s humming to herself that this one doesn’t seem to want to leave when Shino murmurs he can’t blame the little guy. He wouldn’t want to leave her side either.

Queue Katsura turning red and telling him not to joke like that, because she might get the wrong idea.

He tilted his head before asking her why would joke about that? He likes her, and the rest was a blur as her heart was beating too loud to hear everything he said outside of the end of his confession.

Of course she said yes too loudly and then asked him to repeat what he said because she wants to know remember his words forever 🥰

Them as a couple

Once they become official, nothing much changes honestly

They still go on bug hunts and walks in the forest, but will to hold hands while doing these things now.

Shino isn’t into too much PDA of course, but he doesn’t mind her cuddling up to him in private. In fact he welcomes it.

Katsura is the first one to say ‘I love you’ and she’s not shy about saying it.

Will leave him notes to read each day if either one of them has a particularly long mission. (they are numbered and yes she expects him to wait and read them)

He’s also been the subject of several questionable dishes because baking is her thing, not cooking. She is very sorry, Shino.

They both decided she should to stick to cookbooks for awhile after the last random dish

Garden picnics are something they both enjoy whenever their schedules allow and Katsura actually knows how to prepare foods for such an occasion

Shino will have a few more butterflies than normal join them because he knows it will make her smile.

Took them awhile to share a passionate kiss because, they’re both patient types and were waiting on the other to take the lead

But once they did and she heard his beetles buzzing— and he sighed against her lips that was it, she practically jumped on top of him and then apologized profusely later

Shino knows she’s capable, but will still get things down from higher shelves for her.

Katsura loves tracing shapes in Shino’s palms and can/will fall asleep holding his hand. His hands are always so warm and calming to her

She knitted them matching sweaters for winter because she really liked the idea. They didn’t turn out perfect but Shino wore his anyways and made her whole day!

Shino was very supportive of Katsura retiring to take a bigger role at her grandparents bakery and pursue writing. It’s something she always enjoyed and he’s ngl, the thought of them having more time together made him happy.

Katsura was also very supportive of Shino becoming a sensei! What a cute job and she could get intel of what kids may be interested

Both of them would still rather eat at home but will go with their friends. Katsura is more likely to convince Shino it’s good to socialize every once in awhile… although if he wants her to be more selfish with him, she will gladly do so~

Overall just a really sweet couple that’s over the moon about each other 🖤

[sirthisisa-wendys]

The General (part 9.5): Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader

synopsis: it’s over. the ruse is up.

wc: 2.1k

tw: none

masterlist

“Have you ever considered just not going to meet the Prince and remaining in your rooms?” Kaori wonders as you sharpen a blade with a rock. “I mean, I’m sure he wouldn't bother you if you assumed the appearance of an invalid. How about getting out of town for a week?” 

She’s tried everything to get you to reconsider your stance on killing Prince Naoya. Any theory, any loophole, any cop-out; Kaori’s said it. But you have no choice. Geto has to be avenged, and the only way you can manage vengeance is killing the man who sent your lover to his death. 

“Listen, we have only a couple of days left. We can use poison, strangulation, accidental drowning, and straight-up murder - which I think is the messier of the bunch.” Toji ticks off methods as he watches you work away at the blade with determination. “I vote we poison his food, and if that doesn’t work, smothering can go a long way.” Megumi peers into the little pond in front of him as his father discusses treason, entirely uninterested in anything but finding another frog to play with. You envy the child and wish that you could take his place, forgetting everything else except the current pursuit of a frog. But your frog is much more elusive, slippery, and well-guarded.

“We have to drug the guards first,” you note, and Toji grunts affirmatively, biting his lip as he stares past you, deep in thought. You look at the scar on his mouth and squint, wondering if you’re just now noticing the pink-ish raised mark or if you’d seen it before, but never noted the way it looks against his tanned skin in the sunlight. You look away before anyone can accuse you of staring, but make a note to ask about the injury later. 

“How can you be assured that none of this will affect your parents?” Kaori wonders, and you look at her with a pensive stare. 

“I’m sure it wouldn’t affect them. They know nothing of the plot and I--”

“If you’re dead, you can’t defend them,” she reminds you, and for a moment, you reconsider the plan altogether. 

“Toji, do you think you could get my parents out of here safely?” 

“I can’t guarantee shit,” he replies, resting his chin on his palm as his green eyes focus in on you again. “But I can sure as hell try.” He adds when you give him a defeated look. You respond to his addition with a half-smile, and he rolls his eyes at the sight, huffing out a short breath. 

_______________________________________________________________________

“Try and hit me,” Toji encourages you, and you reach a hand out to slap him across the face. But you miss entirely and stumble forward, almost face-planting into the ground. “You can’t put all of your force in your upper body like that.” He chastises, stepping in front of you again. 

“Give me a rake and we’ll see about that,” you counter, earning you a loud laugh. Toji takes his stance again, hands prepared for a fight. 

“Come on, little girl, put up a serious fight. You don’t need a rake.” You inhale deeply, centering yourself with one foot placed behind you at an angle and one foot in front, planted firmly into the dirt. “Hit me.” 

The roundhouse kick narrowly misses Toji’s tan face, and his eyes widen as your heel barely scrapes his nose. 

“I said hit me, not kill me!” The bodyguard gripes, and you laugh at his overly-surprised expression and step back, holding your stomach as you bend over in a fit of giggles. When you stop and straighten back up, you catch Toji staring at you in wonder. 

“What?” 

“Your laugh… I’ve never heard you laugh like that before.” At the mention of your enjoyment, you hum thoughtfully, realizing, yes - you hadn’t laughed so heartily in a long time. But in his moment of unguardedness, you shoot your hand out - the fist making contact with his gut immediately. He grunts, holding his abs and wincing a little. “You… fucking... bi--” Before he can finish his sentence and grab you, you take off for the hill behind the house, laughing as you run with all of your might.

But Toji catches up to you easily, grabbing your elbow and making you tumble to the grass, then roll back down the hill in his arms. As you roll - and scream - grass and dirt and wildflowers are kicked up and tossed into your hair and clothes, dirtying your face as well. When you stop though, you’re on top of Toji, and his arms are crushing you against his chest protectively. 

“You can let go now,” you groan, and he opens his emerald eyes, staring right into yours with an intensity you’ve only seen on one other person’s face. “Toji…” you whisper, and his face changes again, now softer and much more… relaxed, if that was even possible. He blinks, and you pause, recognizing the meaning behind his looks. “Fushiguro, I--” He lets you go immediately, clearing his throat and standing. 

“We should get back before dinner. I’m fucking starving.” He saunters off with his hands in his pockets, not even offering to help you up off of the ground.  

_______________________________________________________________________

The moon hovers precariously in the night sky, illuminating the garden directly below it and bathing you in moonlight. You’re only a few hours away from meeting Prince Naoya, and it’s the thought of seeing him face-to-face that keeps you up tonight. What would he look like? Would he know who you are? Would he ask you any questions about Geto? 

Your eyes rest on the reflection of the moon in the fountain, Toji’s old dagger resting in your lap. 

“It ain’t much,” he mumbled when he handed it to you. “But if something happens, whether it’s with the food or the smothering... You’ve got this dagger.” Then he showed you how to murder someone quickly by using a pillow and your dagger, aiming precisely for the open space between his ribcage. “Stab once, pull it out, and run like hell if you want.” 

You inhale deeply, filling your lungs with fresh air. 

“Cold out here,” Toji mumbles, rubbing his arms as he walks out of the house barefoot. “Can’t sleep, y/n?” 

“No,” you admit, then jerk your chin at him. “You?” 

“I don’t get much rest these days,” he replies, sitting beside you at the fountain. “Worried about tomorrow?” You look over at the green-eyed man and blink, your blank expression telling all. “Well, I’m not. You’re going to be fine.” 

“And what will you do when you have to watch me be executed?” you tease, but Toji’s eyes fall to the fountain, eyeing the moon’s reflection. 

“It’ll be sad. But I understand why you have to do what you’re doing.” 

“Toji Fushiguro? Sad?” You laugh, but he gives you a withering look instead of laughing along with you. 

“Listen, I’ve made a lot of off-color remarks, but I meant what I said. You’re a great person, and I would hate to see your life go to waste over some petty vendetta.” His mumbling catches you off guard, but you say nothing in response, opting to look down at the dagger instead. “But, you’re determined to pursue your lover into the afterlife; I get it. You must really be in love with him.”

“I am,” you reply, still not looking at Toji.

“Well, since you’re going to die tomorrow, I might as well be transparent with you,” Toji whispers. “You know, looking after you was a pain in the ass at first.” You frown at him, wondering what kind of comment that is, but he continues anyways. “But you grew on me. Shit, watching you for these months has become enjoyable, more exciting than the idiocy I used to do before. Y/n… I’m--” Toji swallows hard, then raises his eyes to meet yours. “I’m... going to miss you.” Toji leans in slowly, placing a rough hand on your right cheek before kissing the other cheek with a tenderness you always knew he held deep inside. Once he pulls away, he stands, raking his hands through his short hair and sighing before walking back into the house. But you’re left outside, wondering what could’ve been if you weren’t so hell-bent on bringing your dead lover justice. 

_______________________________________________________________________

The sounds of horses, bells, cheering, chants, cacophony… too much noise.

You can hear it all from your position in the kitchen. The village is louder than it’s ever been before, and all the noise provides the perfect background noise to you and your mother’s preparing food for the six of you already living in the house and about thirteen guests- the seven guards, the four servants, a royal advisor, and finally, Prince Naoya. The resulting feast will outshine any feast your mother has cooked before, and you know that the village will speak of the honor bestowed upon your house and the cooking from it for at least a day. 

The next day, they will be lamenting the loss of the eldest son of the Imperial Court, and rejoicing upon your execution. Just like they celebrated Geto’s death. 

Wherever you are, I hope you’re happy, Su, you pray as you peel a leek with precision. Only a few more hours and Naoya would be within your reach. 

First, you’d drug him with a powder Toji had acquired in exchange for… something unmentionable that he wouldn’t divulge. Second, you would help the prince off to his bed as the drug took hold of him and tuck him in. Then, you’d smother him to death. If that didn’t work - “and there’s a chance that it might not”, Toji warned - you would stab him in the heart. Death would reach the Prince’s soul before the morning light. And you would be ready to die the next day, all to meet Geto in whatever world he had passed on to.

An icy hand grips your heart as the hours pass.

The thought of rejoining your lover - feeling his arms around you, touching his hair, looking into his black eyes - is more than enough for you to pretend everything is alright. All you’re doing is making the most of the last few hours you have with your family, Kaori, Toji, and Megumi. The small child is parading about in his newest outfit, displaying his hakama and haori for all to see and coo over. Toji wears a matching outfit, the clouds and animals drifting about his black haori reminding you of a zoo display and of the days you wish you could have. 

You’re wearing your best kimono - the peach one Kaori dressed you in the day you left the camp; Suguru’s mother’s kimono. It’s all too beautiful, really. Everyone is dressed up like royalty, but you’re the only one who came dangerously close to that life and escaped by the grace of a certain General who had your heart. Now, you would murder royalty and die as much of an outcast that Suguru was. 

After you wash your hands in the fountain, you place the dagger inside your kimono and look at yourself in the mirror for the last time. Color had returned to your cheeks over the past few days, and a certain look in your eye had become commonplace. You had something to live for, and these days would remain in your memory as the best days you’ve had since Geto died. 

“They’re coming up the path,” Kaori hisses as she walks past you, ushering Megumi and Toji to the door behind your mother and father. “Come on.” You follow them obediently, standing behind your father and mother as the procession winds its way down the road. While soldiers, musicians, villagers, everyone is parading in front of the carriage carrying the murderer of your lover, you look to the ground and clench your fists. Your resolve steels itself in your spine as you hear the procession get even closer, the clanging making your jaw tighten and your knees tremble. Too much noise, too much noise, too much noise for a man who slaughtered innocents.

The music dies down when the carriage comes to a halt, but the sound of children excitedly squealing nearby. You keep your eyes downcast, not daring to look the spiteful man in the face or attract attention to yourself. The echo of children’s excited chatter stabs you in the heart even deeper - how could children be excited by this killer? - and you try to block out the memories of Itadori, Junpei, and Nobara, but to no avail. 

You’re trying so hard that tears are streaming down your face, and mucus gathers in your nose as you begin to cry quietly. Megumi reaches up to grab your hand tenderly, holding it in his five little fingers as you hear the door to the carriage swing open slowly. You avoid looking, and sniff so hard you almost miss the first words out of a certain blue-eyed bastard’s mouth: 

“Whoa; watch your step, Yuji! You don’t want to fall in front of Lady y/n, do you?”

_______________________________________________________________________

TAGLIST: @kamisamaundercover​ @jotazinha​ @just4readingfics​ @mxhi​ @sammytamaki​ @brownskinnedgirll​ @keelyshayee​ @leanne-tamashi​ @vabybizzle​ @amaris9​ @fuegy-fuegy​ @ambiguous-something​ 

[themonotonysyndrome]

Guilt Eater

Part 4 of the ‘Successors of the Future’ is here! And yes, I will do my absolute best to squeeze in as much Blazblue reference in this series until I can’t! (I mean, that’s how I got the plot bunny for this series anyway~)

We’re moving the spotlights today to Malleus and Ace and a special guest! I thought it’ll be an interesting shift of perspective and change. Don’t worry, we’ll get right back to the kids in the next oneshot. 

As always, big thank you to @tri3tri for letting us expand her Second Wive AU. Hope you guys enjoy this oneshot. 

-

Time tend to leave its mark differently on each species. 

For creatures who only grew stronger with time while their bodies remain near immortal, the passing of time means nothing to the Fair Folks. Time is likened to the ocean; ancient yet full of wonders. 

For Malleus, however, time has not been kind to him. Not since his dear heart and children vanishes. 

Ever since then, there is an unspoken rule among the residents of the Castle of Thorns: the Queen’s family wing is forbidden to everyone but the King.

Even Lilia nod his head to the rule; even he has been walking on eggshells around their King. 

And the years had transformed the Queen’s domain into a catacomb. The rumpled beds, the toys littered in Princess Sherrie’s bedroom, the Queen’s favourite book on her study table - everything is left untouched with layered of dust and cobwebs covering every inch of the surfaces. 

Every evening, the King would stalk the empty halls and bedrooms like a ghost; constantly yearning to feel the memories that embedded on the walls. Once he did his duties as the King and beget the male heir that the court had been pushing, Malleus has been living in regret ever since. 

He should have known that his beautiful wife would attempt to escape during the night of his second wedding. He should have tightened the security not on his concubine, but to the Queen and their Princesses. He should have assured Renata and Sherrie that only their mother holds his heart and that Bellatrix is just a means to an end. 

He should have told them that he loves them. 

Regret and guilt are terrible poisons. It festered under your skin and twist your heart painfully. They plague your mind with ‘what if’s’ and ‘should have’s’ and Malleus have been carrying them ever since that night. 

Tonight, he lost hours inside Renata’s bedroom, just staring at her favourite doll that he bought for her. He still remembers how her eyes lit up and how sweet her smile was when he presented the doll to her; how she was so happy that she clings on him and the doll that day. Deeply amused, he humoured her and carried her in her arms the whole day. Malleus even brought her to his court session, regardless how it broke propriety. 

His every waking moments now drift to MC and their daughters. Where are they? Why couldn’t he find them no matter how many soldiers he dispatched across Twisted Wonderland, no matter how far his magic blanket the lands? Are his daughters healthy, happy? What are they currently doing now? Are they safe? Have they forgotten about him - 

The mirror on the vanity table shattered. Malleus releases the doll in his grip and struggle to calm himself down; his body curl inwards and his breaths erratic. The thought of his wife and children far away and happy from him nearly drove him crazy if it weren’t for Lilia’s quick and careful words of consolation.

“They can’t hide forever, Malleus. Don’t ever give up, you hear me? And once we’ll find them, we’ll make sure her little escape routines are put to a stop. Permanently.”  

Lilia’s words are enough to ground him. For now. 

Malleus failed to assured his wife and daughters his love towards them, failed to show just how deep his convictions towards them are. The moment he finds any threads of their whereabouts, he’ll make sure to rectify that. 

And as the night made way for morning, Malleus forces himself to leave his daughter’s abandoned bedroom to prepare for another long, monotonous day. The only reason why he hasn’t delegate his duties to Lilia was because of his grandmother. His grandmother had come to visit on the eve of his second wedding and stayed when a frantic Silver announced MC and their children’s disappearance. If it weren’t for her, Malleus would’ve burned away his suit and transform into a dragon to search for them. While Lilia organise a search team with Silver and Sebek, his grandmother made sure he understood his duties as King once more. 

That was the first and last time he slept with Bellatrix before his thoughts and desire are consumed with the need to find his family. At that point, neither Lilia nor his grandmother could’ve stop him. 

The castle staffs and guards know to scattered when they see him step out of the Queen’s wing. The moment they heard the door creaked open, the room is empty. 

All but for one individual. 

“Good morning, Father!” 

Malleus stop his track. He tilts his head towards his heir, expressionless. Victor refused to be deterred by his Father’s gloomy aura yet he’s smart enough to carefully approach him. 

The king is stoic on the best days, frightening on his worst. 

“Will you be joining us for breakfast later? I heard from Grandfather Lilia that the kitchen staffs are planning to cook your favourites.” 

“I’ll be taking my meals in my office as usual.” Malleus reply and starts to walk away. 

Victor’s smile drop a little but he pressed on, jogging behind his father. In a rare burst of courage, the Prince grab Malleus’ hand. Surprisingly, Malleus stops walking. He stares at his hand before narrowing his eyes at Victor. 

“W-Would Father like a report of my recent academic progress? My tutors said that I’ve been doing well in my magic classes! O-Oh! I’ve also been diligently keeping up with my etiquette lessons.” Victor stutters out after he immediately let go of his Father’s hand. Feeling like he just committed a grave crime. 

“No need. Your tutors have been sending letters of your progress, daily.” 

“Oh... then would Father be willing to... to train me - ”

“I’m busy. Ask Lilia or any of your tutors.” And with that, Malleus refused to linger any longer, leaving Victor in the empty room. 

Crestfallen, Victor watch his Father go. Knowing that if he bothers him even more, it will just upset him and another storm would loom over the castle for the next few days. His expression immediately morph into a combination of anger and sadness as he stomps away before the staffs could return, not wanting them to see him vulnerable. 

As usual, Victor desperately hopes that one day his Father would finally acknowledge him as a son, not as his Prince. 

-

Time tend to leave its mark differently on each species.

For creatures with a set of years as flimsy as a lit candle’s flame, humans are creatures who bear the passing of time with a passionate vigor. Time is likened to fireworks; beautiful, bright but only for a short moment. 

For Ace, however, time is a constant remainder that he had failed his best friend. Being vulnerable in Night Raven College is a sure way to be taken advantage off and Ace is never known as anything but his brutal honestly, mischievous streaks and habits of getting himself (and others) into trouble. 

But when the headmaster announced that he couldn’t find MC anywhere the day after their senior’s graduation, was the moment that he, Deuce and Grim completely lose their composure. Deuce was too shocked to say anything while Ace couldn’t stop screaming alongside Grim. 

She couldn’t have just vanish! People don’t work like that! 

And even if she finally somehow found a way back to her world, she wouldn’t just leave without saying goodbye! 

Ace hated himself as that moment. If only he texted them the night before. Why didn’t he? They usually send stupid texts to one another! If only he kept a closer eye on them. If only she kept Grim close to her. 

For once, the headmaster drop all pretence. For once, his guilt laden answer and heavy sags of his shoulders are genuine. 

MC is gone and he has no idea how or why. But the three of them refused to gave up just like that. Ever since that day, they would do their best to figure out or research about MC’s fate. Jack and Epel, after finding out what happened, did their best to help out too. But days passed without any leads and with heavy hearts, they accepted that their friend is lost to them. 

That was not a good day. 

After Ace and Epel managed to pull Deuce and Jack away from one another (Deuce had completely lost it when the wolf boy reluctantly admit that maybe it was best to stop their research), strangely enough, it was Sebek who finally interjects. 

They need to accept that MC is gone. Even if they could never gain the closure that they desperately want, it’ll be no good to carry this sort of horrible guilt with them forever. With a long sigh, Sebek told them to find peace with it, even if it’s hard. 

Easier said than done. Even now that he’s already an adult and have a son, Ace still couldn’t help but wonder what happened to his friend. He hopes that wherever she is, MC is safe and happy. Anything other than that Ace couldn’t bear to think. 

Ace takes out his phone and checks the calendar app. The anniversary of MC’s disappearance is coming. Usually, Ace would cook MC’s favourite food in honour of her memory and over the years, he has gotten pretty good at it. Good enough that it also becomes his son’s favourite dish. 

Just as Ace was about to put down his phone and get ready to go out for lunch with his older brother, it suddenly rings.  

The name on his phone surprises him. His son rarely calls him ever since he got accepted to Night Raven College. Something about wanting some independence from his old man that Ace retaliates by ruffling his hair because of his boy’s cheekiness. 

Ace press the accept button with a grin, knowing that this is going to be good. “What’s up, kiddo? Finally admit that you miss your old man?” 

He expects a scoff, maybe a reluctant admittance, hell even his son’s rare bout of innocent honesty. What Ace didn’t expect however, is hearing his son’s frightened shriek.

“Dad! You knew a MC/S before right!? Please tell me you know what to do when she went batshit insane!” 

“Whoa, whoa, slow down! What are you talking about? I can barely hear you!” 

Ace impatiently wait while pressing the phone close to his ear as he hear his son rapidly talking to someone, shouting apologies and heavy breaths as if he’s currently running. 

“Oh Sweet Seven, ok, I think we managed to hide from her.” His son panted. “Yeah, so, I might have, uh accidentally threw my food tray all over this girl and she immediately went supernova. We barely managed to dodge her fireballs!” 

Suddenly, Ace felt his heart drop. “Girl? What girl? Night Raven College is an all-boys’ school.” He heard himself reply. Absentmindedly, his mind brought up the memories of his Entrance Ceremony, years ago. Of a girl that looked so lost in her robes as she stood in front of the Mirror of Darkness. 

“Renata MC/S. She’s the only girl that ended up a student here. I remembered that you had a friend with that surname so I thought she might be related.” 

At that moment, Ace choose to believe it. It’s way too coincidental for it not be. A girl that shares his lost best friend’s surname who also just happend to be the only girl to be accepted in Night Raven College? 

But what Ace doesn’t understand is his son’s comment about the girl throwing fireballs. MC doesn’t have magic. So what’s going on? 

“Hmm, I usually gave her some space before I apologised to her. And a little bribery never failed too.” Ace advised, recalling how MC reluctantly accepts the candy that he offered after he upsets her. 

“That’s not a bad idea, Dad! Will report back the result if I’m not scorched to death.” Ace’s son dryly answer. Some rustling noises and hush whispers can be heard through the phone before his kid ended the call. 

Ace is already calling Deuce’s number. He needs to know about this. 

-

I hope I managed to did Malleus and Ace justice in writing them! I’ll get better with writing the rest of the boys once their children are introduce. Because Renata needed friends/allies against Malleus after all~ 

Speaking of Victor, I was really nervous when I was writing him. Here, he’s not all haughty because deep down, all he want is some praises and love from a Father who only see him as something to appease his court. Not a son. Hope I managed to portray that properly! 

(Also, the name of Ace’s son and two others will be reveal in the next oneshot)

[dweetwise]

survivors as roommates hcs

just some silly little headcanons i wrote between fics <3

Dwight is a huge pushover. Late on rent? Dwight has you covered. Ate his food? “Haha, it’s fine, you were probably more hungry anyway and it’s not like I need to eat today—”. He’s a little messy but mostly keeps to himself, unless you befriend him, in which case he’s clingy af. Constantly asks to hang out and isn’t the best at understanding social cues.

Meg is a whirlwind, leaving stuff in her wake wherever she goes. She leaves for morning runs at like 4 am and showers weird hours of the day. She’s also really assertive, going “You don’t mind if I borrow this, do you? Ok cool!” and sprinting off before you can even reply.

Claudette keeps to herself. Hope you don’t mind the 6281 plants that start in her bedroom and slowly spread to cover every available surface of the apartment. Sometimes she leaves weird science projects in the fridge that you do not want to accidentally drink unless you want to be poisoned by some obscure plant.

Jake just wants to be alone. He’s a hermit, never having people over and shutting himself into his room if you do. He can go days without showering, so hope you don’t mind his stink or the constant weed smell.

Nea will throw impromptu parties and leaves her shit laying around. Empty spray paint cans are now a permanent part of your décor, since no matter how many you throw out, more always appear. She has a habit of adopting stray cats and you’re not even sure how many are in the apartment at this point.

Laurie is the most perfect roommate anyone could ask for. She usually just keeps to herself and reads books or something, but will almost always join you in watching a movie or cooking or whatever, if you ask. She’s also very neat and will clean up after you, even if she scolds you for it. Sometimes she’s a little too responsible and doesn’t know how to let loose, so you won’t be throwing any wild parties with her around.

Ace on the other hand, is… well. A wild card. He doesn’t have a sleep schedule, stumbling home at varying hours in the middle of the night from god-knows-where. Will bring home random hook-ups. Will beg you to lend rent money when he’s gambled away his share. Will make you cover for him when the police comes knocking. 0/10 worst roommate wouldn’t recommend, the only thing he’s good for is a laugh and knowing the best parties.

Bill smokes inside. He also snores. Loudly. Usually falls asleep with the tv blaring, so hope you have earplugs. There’s also the war flashbacks, which… yeah you should probably not ask him about that.

Feng will play games all night, screaming at her teammates over Discord. Again, earplugs are a must, or alternatively you can join her in game and be screamed at. She lives on energy drinks and you’re not 100% sure she even sleeps.

David is kind of unpredictable. He’s punched at least two dents in the wall after losing at Mario Kart. Has a boxing bag in his room that he loudly beats up. If you have friends over, he’s going to do shirtless push-ups right in front of them. He sleeps naked and sometimes forgets to put on clothes so you’ll be getting an eyeful whether you like it or not.

Quentin is a great roommate… except when he’s asleep, because he sleepwalks and has night terrors. When he’s awake he’s super chill, picking up after himself and letting you do your thing, occasionally asking to hang out but not minding if you say no.

Tapp will complain about the slightest bit of noise, and you’d better not be doing any drugs or underage drinking. Is the most punctual with paying rent and utility bills, and you can bet he’s always in bed by 9 pm.

Kate is tidy, but her music doesn’t have an off button. Sometimes her inspiration hits in the middle of the night, and while she tries to be quiet, she gets carried away and always ends up singing at full volume. Will also insist on throwing huge bbq parties no matter the season.

Adam is a very nice roommate. His biggest sin is being a little forgetful and sometimes leaving wet laundry in the machine until it starts to smell. He works long hours and isn’t home a lot, but still somehow manages to do his share of the housework.

Jeff tries his best not to make a mess with his art but the paint splatters are inevitable. He comes with a dog and the entire apartment is now filled with both the puppy’s and Jeff’s long hairs. Surprisingly, the death metal isn’t an issue in the slightest because he always listens to music with headphones.

Jane listens to podcasts on speaker. Is a little bit of a mom, often cooking extras so you can have some later, and even occasionally washing your laundry. Her guilty pleasure is watching corny telenovelas and you can bet your ass she’s yelling at the tv in her native tongue.

Ash is just loud. He talks to himself, laughs at shitty sitcoms and brings home random hookups to have obnoxiously loud sex. Sometimes leaves his prosthetic in odd places especially when he’s been drinking. You’ve found it in the freezer at least twice.

Nancy is mostly really neat and organized. Sometimes, she leaves research papers strewn around and you do not want to touch them or, heaven forbid, throw them away lest you want to face her wrath.

Steve is messy and a little spoiled. His room is pure chaos, and occasionally sweaty socks and basketball shorts make their way to the shared living space. The apartment always smells faintly of hairspray.

Yui constantly has her gang over, and they’re nice enough but it gets a little annoying. Constant motor oil smell from when she’s been tinkering with a bike part. Once, she even brought the entire bike indoors and you got into a fight when she tried to get rid of the couch to make room for it.

Zarina has photography and film equipment laying around the entire apartment, especially when she’s working on a project. She’s a great cook and the kitchen smells like exotic spice 24/7, so depending on your tastes that’s either the best or worst thing ever.

Cheryl means well but is a disaster. If she tries to cook, the kitchen looks like a hurricane and smells burnt, and you’ve found the laundry machine overflowing with foam more times than you can remember. You might need to parent her until she learns the ropes.

Felix is neat but doesn’t know how to relax. He’ll often pull all-nighters and passive-aggressively complain if you disturb him. Miniature buildings will appear on every available surface, especially when nearing a deadline.

[goldenpoison]

Come Back To Me

T || 3.2k words || read it on Ao3

“And what if you died?” Alina screams at her husband, her voice almost cracking. Her wariness of nearby servants long gone. Aleksander already dismissed their personal guards the moment they stepped foot in the war room.

The beloved and celebrated rulers of Ravka would often bicker and sass each other. Their people saw it endearing. The lovesick teenagers would stare at the couple and giggle amongst themselves, often chittering about how they want to have something like some day. Their hearts still ignorant of the pain and suffering that trails love wherever it goes. The adults, who were once the bubbly teenagers, would also stare at them longingly, but for a different reason. Where the younger ones stare and wish for a storybook romance, they wish for even a sliver of the comfort and satisfaction that the monarchs had with each other — of a relationship healthy enough that both parties respect the other equally, and are unafraid to not hold back a snide remark.

They rarely fought intensely despite the bickering and the constant back and forth. But when they do, even the birds in their nests and the rabbits in the underbrush stop in their tracks, wary of the change of the lights and shadows. In fact, it’s been years since they had, possibly even almost a decade. Although they’ve been fighting for near an hour now, they have only ever repeated their original points and nothing more. The single difference being that they said them with much fervor than the last. At least, Alina does.

What fuels her most is not Aleksander’s stubbornness, but his calm demeanor. How could he stay level-headed when her temper is only rising and rising?

“I won’t, Alina.” His voice was stern and final. His words, however, were far from certain. “I’ve lived for centuries. What weapon could they possibly possess that could kill me?”

A lie. Excluding who his wife once was — the Alina who was ready to risk everything for the life of a simple otkazat’sya, the Alina just before she tasted the power of all three amplifiers, before she wore the bone of the said otkazat’sya amplifier on her wrist, before her hands were covered in his blood, her mind stained with the memory of his death, and her heart heavy with the guilt of not regretting any of it — for the first time in hundreds of years, there was a weapon that threatened his life. It was the reason why his army requested for him in the first place.

Too many Grishas who even dares to step near the Fjerdan border, no matter their order nor rank, ended up dead. His Heartrender generals died in battle. One found sans her eyes and left with darkness in her eye sockets. Another with his head three meters from his body, messily discarded like it was just another piece of meat to be eaten by wolves. Another general has been spared the dismemberment but was found with wolf bites all over their body and very much dead, nonetheless. All with three bullet holes to the head. Just holes though, the bullets were brutally plucked from their place that left the wounds bigger, bloodier, and dirtier.

They hadn’t known what made the bullets so deadly for almost a week since the Fjerdans first brought out the weapon. It was only until one of the soldiers managed to escape to the camps with a tilted bullet still lodged in his head, just a little bit more to the left of the center of his forehead. They said he came crawling with only one hand to push himself. The other was stuck to his abdomen, trying to apply pressure to the deep gash to prevent any further bleeding. It didn’t work for he still left a bloody path. With his fatal wounds, he only managed to reach the camp post, and died clutching one of the newer guard’s kefta, eyes wide and murmuring mad nonsense.

As reported to him by his Fabrikators, the bullets were apparently made of the usual lead-antimony alloy. Normally, this wouldn’t be quite a problem for Grishas because of their bulletproof keftas. What made them more dangerous is their poison coated Grisha steel encasing. Turns out, the poison was made of a cousin of the jurda plant that branched out only a few decades ago and can only be grown in very specific conditions in Novyi Zem. How the Fjerdans got a hold of the steel, he doesn’t know yet. One thing he is sure of, is whoever was treacherous enough to do or even slightly partake in the crime will receive no mercy.

Still, Alina doesn’t know. She knows of the staggering increase of deceased Grisha, but not the reason. The report came to him only that morning along with the request, and he plans to keep her in the dark about it. Even after all these years, despite her centuries-old valiance and her time-hardened heart, he’s still protective over his wife.

They’ve endured many things together, from numerous bloody wars to the yearly balls and events, filled with the same old power-hungry people hoping to get in the good graces of their king and queen, that they might just of boredom from. Yet, he could never seem to get less protective over her, if not, it might be increasing every day that the war prolongs, and if he was being honest, every time an overly decent looking man or woman steps ever so slightly closer to her and dares to bat a suggestive eye at her. How could he not, when all they truly had left as one another? He stopped trying to make sincere acquaintances before he reached one hundred, and his retched mother, as distant and cold as she was, jumped off the Elbjen mountains. He couldn’t imagine leaving her, but his promise to himself that he will do whatever it takes to make the world a safe place for Grishas was made such a long time ago that he doesn’t know how to live without it.

“Please, my Alina,” he pleaded again.

She sighed a heavy breath, her shoulders dropped and her head lowered. She didn’t utter a single word before exiting the war room.

–

Aleksander couldn’t even say that he woke up unpleasantly, because he simply didn’t sleep at all. Not when he was too lost in the labyrinth of his own thoughts.

When it was time for breakfast, he saw that Alina, too, wore tired unrested eyes. She sat silently at her seat, her lips set in a slight frown and her head bowed. It wasn’t until the doors opened to let the servants enter with their food that she glanced up and Aleksander finally saw the redness in her eyes and the almost-vanished tear stains of her cheeks. She didn’t even bother with her Tailor today.

The servants served them a variety of fruits, buttered bread, and waffles, a food that Alina recently took a liking to these past few months. They stopped serving herring both at the Little and Grand Palace the first week that the couple came to power, courtesy of Alina whose face was in a clearly disgusted scrunch.

They finished their food without a single word said, and the tension in the air grew bigger and bigger with every second that passes. Alina has just stood up when he said, “Will you join me for a walk to the Little Palace this afternoon?”

She only looked at him with skeptical eyes, the rest of her face void of emotion. “Why?”

“For the sake of it. To check on the younger Grishas.”

Silence.

“Please. I leave at the crack of dawn tomorrow morning, you know?” The Darkling never begs for anyone or anything. But he had to Alina, twice now in not even 12 hours.

She flinched the tiniest of flinches when he mentioned when he was leaving, but he saw it anyway. She thought about it for a while and only gave him a simple nod and strode towards the large doors.

–

They walked to the Little Palace in deafening silence. Not a sound could be heard aside from the sounds of their footsteps treading through the snow, their own breathing, and the natural cacophony of the woods and the creatures that dwell in it. As they get closer to the Little Palace, they heard the cheer and laughter of the Grishas hanging out at the frozen lake. Some of them were skating, some Etherealki were messing around with their powers, some hid behind the snow forts they built breathing loudly and looking at their enemy from time to time while their partners threw snowballs at the enemy.

The Grishas didn’t seem to notice them as their fun hadn’t calmed. That was, until a particularly large snowball hit a certain king dressed in black.

Everyone turned quiet. No one moved a muscle and not a single soul intended to. Except Alina. She burst out laughing like a mad woman over the extremely shocked and bothered face of her husband. Honestly, he looked like he was just harassed by a lowly beggar, she thought.

Tears were forming in her eyes when the Darkling finally moved on from his shock. What came after left the Grishas even more shocked than they were before. He chuckled. Not a laugh, no. But something more than a smile, nonetheless. They weren’t even sure if he could do that. It was surely the first time they witnessed something like this. The Darkling, former coveted general of the Second Army, King of Ravka, a man of legend so great that some prayed to him like a saint, who was known as stoic and intimidating, and was only ever seen giving the smallest of smiles, barely a tug on one corner of his lips, actually chuckled.

After a good five seconds, they unfroze like they were finally freed from a curse that paralyzed their bodies, and laughed with the monarchs. Although, a few Grishas were still nervous about their king and forgo the laugh.

Alina wiped the tears from her face and looked at her husband with her bright eyes and wide grin. “Looks like the point goes to them,” she said. “Can we join?” she asked the group nearest to her, basically hopping over to them.

“Of course, moya tsaritsa. Moy soverenyi,” the Squaller playing greeted and bowed. The rest of the Grishas followed suit, their tenseness creeping back in.

“None of that,” the Darkling replied. He walked over to the other group and pointed to his wife, “You’ll regret this.”

“A set of jeweled gold pins when we win?” she bargained.

“If you win.”

“When.”

“If.”

Alina retorts with a snowball thrown to his chest. “Oops, well would you look at that, my hand slipped.”

Before he had any chance to counter, she beckons more of the other Grishas to join their game. Soon enough, they were all grouped up into two teams, each with around eight or so Grishas of varying order, all very much competitive.

Aleksander’s team threw snowballs after snowball, with two Durasts supplying the hands of the five Grishas, including The Darkling, with them so they’re never empty. Yet, only a few really ever got across the other’s fort and hit players. Alina’s team, on the other hand, had very little coordination. Their motto: make it, throw it, hope it hits something. Very unorganized, but hey, it worked.

At first, the Grishas were very cautious to not hit either of the monarchs, but after a few hits, they were the ones being targeted. One rogue snowball even hit Alina’s face, which she only laughed off and insisted they continue with a very precise throw to their opponent’s “tower” that sent a decent portion of their fort crumbling.

It was, as it seemed, an unspoken rule to not use their powers. One rule, which Alina violated. She sent enticing ribbons of light dancing towards enemy territory to disguise the building of the low make-shift shield. Apparently, her team is much more organized than they let on, because once the other team snapped out of the trance caused by the beauty and elegance of the Sun Summoner’s light, a ginormous snowball that they were sure it wasn’t there before, was thrown by three Grishas. It hit the near-center of their opponent’s fort and sent it crumbling down. Alina’s team took advantage of the others’ shock and threw snowball after snowball until the Darkling’s team were forced to forfeit, much to his dismay.

“That wasn’t a win, you know,” he said annoyed, but content nonetheless.

“Last time I checked my books, it was,” Alina replied.

“Your books are horribly mistranslated.”

She only sticked her tongue out at him.

“If you must know, that rule was heavily implied,” he said.

“Oh, boohoo. You’re just mad because you didn’t come up with it sooner, and now you’re acting like a child who got his sweets taken away from him.”

The young Grishas left their anxiousness behind a few minutes after the first snowball was thrown. Now, instead of being tense, they watched amused as their King and Queen bickered. Two very different souls almost wholly opposite one another, yet united and harmonious. It was this bond between them that gave Ravkans hope, and fuels the fire of Ravka itself.

-

It was the break of dawn.

Alina stood by doors, not daring to go any further in fear that if she did, she’d drag him back towards their quarters and never let him leave. Maybe even do another round of their risqué game they played last night. And a quick version of that right when they woke up.

Aleksander stood by the black troika, none sensibly fumbling with something. He looked over to his wife and didn’t stop his feet when it took a step towards her. Then another. Then another. They’ve already said their goodbyes a few moments ago, but he feels they’re not enough. They’re never enough. A single word of goodbye will never be enough to encapsulate what he feels.

So instead of saying them, when he reaches her at the top of the stairs, he kisses her, deep and passionately. She kisses him back. Where his kiss was intense, if not forceful, hers were tender and caring. He was desperate and longed for his wife. Alina only tried to mellow him down. Her kiss was to bring him back down to Earth, to calm him and remind him that she will be there when he comes home.

Their lips finally broke apart, but their noses remained touching.

“Come back to me,” Alina pleads, silently begging him to promise.

Aleksander only nods.

-

The first day he’s been gone, he sent a message.

“I’m here at the camps,” he said. “I arrived an hour earlier than expected.” He continued to tell her his ramblings and mortal thoughts that gave them both comfort. Words that reminded them that for each other, they were human. Just two humans with feiry hearts burndened with immortality.

The second day, he told her about the happenings in the camp but still ignored the topic of the weapon. He told her how General Volkova, the general who was found without her eyes, was replaced by General Popov, who was as strategic as he was insufferable.

The third day, he only said that he was fine, and nothing more.

-

Six days, he’s been gone. Three days without a word from him. He was only supposed to be ther for three days. He was only to assess and observe the situation, possibly come up with new plans, and show his face to the soldiers to relieve some of the anxiety.

She searched for him. Tugged on the string that ties her to him. But it never worked. Out of the many times she tried to appear to him, not once did she succeeded. It frightened her. It made her think of the worst.

No, anything but that, she thought.

-

The ninth day, a letter written on black paper, stamped with silver wax, was given to her.

She dropped her paintbrush, and hurried to read what was inside, not caring if the face she was painting was left unblended.

Grabbing the letter opener, she let herself hope. That it was him telling her that he’ll be home soon. That it detailed why he wasn’t able to update her.

Her eyes glanced over a word, a simple four letter word, that haunted her nightmares.

Dead.

Her world stopped. Everything went quiet. The curtains that rustled stilled. The whistling wind grew mute. The skys grew dim.

No. No. NO!

Everything came crashing down, as she fell to her knees. She didn’t need to read the entirety of the letter. She already knew what it said. Nevertheless, she forced herself to read it again and again. Hot tears streamed down her face as she read the letter word per word for the third time.

“It is with a heavy heart to write, that His Royal Majesty, the King of Ravka, is dead.”

A heavy heart, she thought, how can a heart be heavy if it was ripped from her chest and stabbed a billion times over?

They were supposed to be together. To never leave each other. To be by the other’s side no matter how far they were for eternity. They swore these words the night before they married. A week ago, he promised that he will come back to her.

Alina didn’t hear the pleading and the screaming of the servants and guards who came up to her room. She didn’t even register the gold pin with a dark blue gem on its head attached to the letter.

She was drowning. Drowning in grief. In sorrow. In emptiness, and in everything all at once.

The Sol Koroleva was drowning in light, that grew and grew with every tear that poured from her eyes.

For a brief moment, she glances at the unfinished painting — at the handsome face that was smiling the smile he gave only to her.

She screamed. And everything in Ravka, all the way to the True Sea, the Shu Han border, and Fjerdan border where the camp was, was enveloped in blinding light. Light that burned bright. Light so hot, it burned every flammable thing it touches. Deadly light, that killed both the Fjerdans, and the Ravkans.

Unlike the Unsea, it didn’t turn the humans into creatures. No. They were simply dead. Blinded, then burned.

The dome of light was so bright and wide that it could be seen from Kerch.

In the middle of all of it, Alina kneeled, sobbing, and clutching the cursed letter close to her heart like she was trying to absorb it.

She used to believe that grief was a beautiful thing. That was what she told herself after centuries of loss. Because if you grieved somebody, then it meant that you loved them enough that you gave them a small piece of your soul never to be returned again. And if they reciprocate, you gain theirs. And if they died, they carry that with them, and you keep a piece of them with you.

But Alina never knew what happens if the person who you loved so deeply that four letters couldn’t even begin to explain what you feel, that your souls became half of the other’s, then became a single one that you shared, leaves you. What happens then?

[imagine-loki]

I signed up for this, too

TITLE: I signed up for this, too

CHAPTER NO./ONE-SHOT: One-shot

AUTHOR: fanfictrashdump

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: After the Chitauri attack on New York, imagine Loki being sentenced to public service on Earth, specifically in aiding people who got hurt during the attack. His magic has been limited to only be enough to aid keeping Odin’s spell in place so he wouldn’t turn blue. His task is to help people with special needs, to do house chores, help them get around, do their grocery and keep them company while they recover. He is assigned to a girl who ended up blind after one of the Chitauri shot at her. RATING: T

NOTES/WARNINGS: So… I had written the original one-shot for this imagine (Related to previous OS: I signed up for this) and then realized that I kind of wanted to give the story a little more depth. And so I wrote one little follow-up to resolve some of the questions I had in my head. It went wherever it wanted to, to be honest.

As far as warnings go, some language, mentions of abusive relationships, the horrid sensation that not every win is going to feel like a win, a dumpster fire human being (who totally deserved the blaster punch), and some awful logic.

= The local healer had said it was a muscle sprain, but Loki was pretty sure it was some absurd form of penance Stark had conjured up. Of course, even though he wanted to blame most of his sufferings on Stark, he had told Loki to take the day off and rest. But how could he rest when he had so many items left on his to-do list?

“Look, Rock of Ages, taking a breather won’t immediately turn you back into a baddie. I think you can rest your shoulder today and get back on the horse tomorrow without the stars falling out of alignment,” Tony argued over the line, choosing to ignore the pained grunts on the other end as Loki tried to put his jumper back on. “Are you even listening to me, Lokes?”

Loki rolled his eyes, glad that the man of iron was nowhere near him to see the expression. “Not at all. Obviously.”

“Take. The day. Off.”

A long stretch of silence passed between them before Loki deigned to answer. “I can’t, Stark.”

Tony made a clever sound on his side. “Meaning you have Charlie on your rotation today. Is that it?” Another beat of silence rang through the line. “Ugh, fine. Go to Charlie’s, but you go straight home, afterwards. You can’t be running yourself ragged. That isn’t helping anyone.”

“Fine. As you wish.” He did not sound pleased with the decision, but last time he tried to overwork himself, Stark sent a flight suit for him and locked him in a room of the Tower until he fell asleep. He wouldn’t put more severe measures past him, either.

“Come on, don’t be like that. Someone has to make sure you don’t kill yourself.” Loki grunted, having heard him before Tony sighed. “Grab some mint chocolate chip ice cream on the way. That’s her favorite.”

Another grunt and Loki stood from the medical cot with a frown. As long as he didn’t try to move his right shoulder in any meaningful direction, he didn’t feel like screaming in pain.

Of course, that didn’t stop him from shouldering several heavy, reusable grocery bags on that same painful shoulder when he was on his way to Charlie’s. He told himself that she was likely low on groceries again, though he knew that he kept her pantry and refrigerator overflowing in food. Whenever the mental image of his first meeting with Charlie floated into his mind, her face gaunt and pained, hoping death would sweep her off before anyone was the wiser, sent full-body chills through his system. Loki was not eager to repeat the experience. He had sworn to it in his heart.

Not that their relationship had gotten any easier.

Charlie, for the most part, was still weary of him; maybe even resented him. Stark had told him how smart she was, how good at her job as a web developer–something she could no longer do. She had a knack for getting things right the first time around. Which was particularly frustrating now when she felt like nothing ever went her way.

Loki knocked on the door, calling her name. He refused to continue using the greeting Stark furnished him with, and he had a sneaking suspicion Charlie preferred its disuse, as well. There was no answer.

When he opened the door, the apartment was seemingly empty. This wasn’t a rare occurrence. He put away all the groceries as quickly as he could, including the ice cream, and continued further into the home.

“Charlie.”

His ears prickled, and he twisted the bedroom door open to let himself in. Charlie was there, but not in good form. She was sat on the ground, with her mobile in hand and tears streaming down her cheeks. This wasn’t dainty or delicate–ugly crying, she would call it later. This was full-on, couldn’t-catch-her-breath, chest-wracking, head-pounding sobbing. Loki was surprised with how wide her mouth was and how much air she seemed to swallow that it was relatively quiet. Like if she were used to suffering in silence. The thought made him uncomfortable.

“Charlotte, darling, what is going on?” He hesitated placing his hand on her shoulder, though he had kneeled down beside her for that express reason. He was a monster. That wouldn’t be enough. He couldn’t fix it. Gritting his teeth against the sour taste of bile in his mouth and the unwanted voices in his head, he shushed her quietly and tentatively touched her head.

Sniffling, Charlie leaned into Loki’s frame, causing him to lose his balance and land on his bum on the floor. She didn’t seem to mind the tumble, and even gripped his midsection in a vice while she sobbed. “Someone… call… charger… can't…”

“I’m sorry, I don’t know…,” he trailed off, opting instead for smoothing down the cinnamon curls that looked to be in need of a brush.

“My charger.”

Loki’s nose scrunched up as he thought for a long moment. Whenever he felt like he no longer had to play charades to understand her, she went ahead and proved him all sorts of wrong. It shouldn’t be this difficult, honestly. “Your charger?” He felt her nod against his chest and the corner of his lips lifted reflexively. He sometimes wished he could capture these small, innocuous, sweet moments so he could keep them in perspective on days when she was having none of his attempts. He supposed he could take a picture with his mobile– “Oh. The charger for your mobile device? Is that it? You can’t find it?” Another nod against his chest. “I thought it was something serious. I was contemplating how much longer I would have to do chores for committing manslaughter for you.”

Charlie let out a surprised chuckle. “That’s not funny.”

“You laughed, anyway,” he pointed out with a smile he knew she couldn’t see. “Tony swapped out your chargers for wireless. There’s one on your bedside table by the lamp. You just need to lay your phone down. I told you about this last week.”

“I panicked.” Her voice and expression were both sheepish.

“It doesn’t do you well to panic.” The line was well-rehearsed, as often as he said it.

“Someone was calling,” she explained, brow furrowed into a tight frown.

“Even then, dove.” He started to maneuver them so they could get off of the floor, though his shoulder screamed from bearing her weight, bridal-style.

“It was Ben.”

“Oh.” Loki stilled, just short of putting her down on the bed. “Do you want to borrow mine? You could call him back.” The offer physically pained him, like an unnecessary tourniquet around the arteries of his heart that he would attribute to his utter hatred for the man. He managed to set her down on the corner of the bed before he looked for his own mobile in his pocket. He exchanged hers for his in her hand and put hers on the charging station.

“No! He left me, Loki.”

“He left you because of me.”

Charlie was glaring into the nothingness before her, looking rather irate. “No, he left me because of me. Because he didn’t want to deal with a blind girlfriend,” she grit out.

“I made you blind.”

“No, the Chitauri made me blind, you’re just the idiot being played who opened the door.” This was not the first time they had had this discussion. Every time they did, she showed Loki the human being’s capacity for forgiveness and his proficiency for being a fool. She was too kind.

“Charlie, you–”

“I’m not going to argue about this today, Loki. So, for all intents and purposes and ease of understanding, just assume I’m always right.”

Loki smirked, despite himself. Her response was a little more heated than usual, but it didn’t lack the certain bit of cocky humor he was used to seeing from her. “Whatever you say.”

Her shoulders slumped, though she seemed calmer. “Could you make me some tea?”

“Of course,” he replied, almost excitedly. Charlie didn’t tend to ask for favors and when she did, it felt like he was earning just a little bit of the trust she placed in him. “I’ll braid your hair after. You’re looking a right mess,” he teased. Even though she glared in his general vicinity, she allowed him to take her hand and bring her to her feet.

“Do you think I should call him back?”

Loki stopped cold, causing her to bump into his side. In one swoop, he pushed Charlie behind his frame and tensed. “I don’t think you have to, Charlotte.”

Standing at the kitchen island, glancing around the flat with interest was a man, a couple of inches or so shorter than himself, who Loki recognized from the dozens of photos he had put away in weeks prior. At the sound of their voices, he had turned to face Loki and Charlie and the gentle brown gaze turned so poisonous Loki had trouble breathing. He didn’t look particularly dangerous. On any other occasion, with his magic, the man would have been an easy feat to get rid of, but now… he was no better than a garden variety mortal. With a muscle sprain, at that. And a crippling sense of self-doubt.

“Get the fuck out of my house right now!”

Loki started, and he immediately felt Charlie grab a handful of his jumper and hold him close. “It’s alright. I have you,” he muttered. Her head popped out from around his large frame, as though she intended to peek around him.

“Charlie, what the fuck?” The man seemed no kinder when directing himself at her.

“This isn’t you house,” she replied, voice uneven.

“What have you done to her? I swear to God that if you’ve touched her, I will strangle the life outta you,” Ben growled, every step he closed in with causing the floor to tremble with his rage.

Charlie pulled Loki tighter. Her breathing was now coming in shaky pants that blew against the fabric of his jumper and tickled his skin. “Please, don’t let him near me.”

Loki half-turned, expression etched in concern. There were unshed tears building up in her eyes and her usually warm, caramel complexion looked pale and pasty. “Charlie, are you afraid of him?” She gave an uncertain nod. “Did he hurt you?” She didn’t reply, but the way her shoulders tensed and she lowered her empty gaze was answer enough. A growl ripped from his throat. “Lock yourself in the bedroom. Now. Call Tony.”

He barely waited for a response before he was strutting his own earthquake towards Ben. The other man’s eyes widened slightly at the oncoming Asgardian. Loki quietly swore that he would rue the day he decided to mean harm to Charlotte Camden. He would regret every single moment he had intended to roughhouse himself back into her life, as if he had not left her to slowly kill herself in the first place. Mostly, he was going to make him think twice about squaring off to a demigod who had spent his formative centuries fighting men several times burlier than him.

Sure, he was no better than a mortal, but his anger was transcendental.

Bam! Crash!

The blow had left Loki’s arm jarring and sent Ben in a crumbling heap to the floor. He breathed through the pain caused by both the sprain and the Nanny Cam, as Tony called it; a small sensor that could detect when Loki was doing something unsavory, like fighting outside of a gym, and sent a set of shocks through his system. It gave Ben the chance to scramble to his feet and spit blood onto the floor.

“So, is that all you got? Is that why you needed the aliens? Because you’re such a pussy?”

Loki made a noise of distaste. “Midgardians and their misplaced sexism. Is that why you felt justified to hurt her? Because you thought her the weaker sex?” He scoffed. “My world touts female warriors that are any Midgardian villain’s worst nightmare. You don’t offend me.”

“No, monsters don’t get offended, do they? They just refuse to die,” Ben snarled, lunging for Loki, who ducked last minute and crashed onto the floor with a hiss of pain.

A boot nearly went through his eye socket a moment later, before he rolled away. He had to fight both Ben and the sizzling at his nerve endings as he put the man in chokehold, praying to every deity he knew, anyone who would listen, for him to be able to subdue the other man before he himself passed out from pain. Ben kept driving his elbows into Loki’s ribs, causing his grip to falter and the process to start all over again. With one last burst of strength, Loki tightened his hold until his muscles nearly locked into place. It was a few seconds before the body in his arms went lax and he dropped the other man onto the floor.

Tony burst in the door a second later.

“Took you fucking long enough,” Loki panted, doubled over with his hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath.

“You good, Lokes?”

He shook his head, though that wasn’t helping the fact he had started feeling dizzy. “It burns. My whole body. Burns so much.”

“Oh, fu– FRIDAY, deactivate Loki’s Nanny Cam.” Loki let out a gasp and dropped to his knees, letting out a sob of relief as his muscles stopped warring against themselves.

“Loki?” Charlie sounded worried as she called from the bedroom.

Loki bit back a groan. “I’m coming, Charlie. It’s alright. I’m fine. We’re fine.”

She appeared at the doorway a moment after, lip quivering. “You’re lying.”

Tony looked sympathetic. Loki was having a hard time summoning the will to tell him to wipe the endearing look off his face as he glanced between them. “He’s OK, Cee. He just needs to breathe it out for a sec.” Stark suppressed an impish smile. “Do you want to help him to the couch?”

Charlie nodded, making a perfect beeline for him. Loki would have laughed at the occurrence had it not been for the searing heat in his lungs. The woman made her hardest effort to pull the much taller Prince to his feet and then felt her way to the living room. They dropped awkwardly into the sofa. Loki found the feeling of her hands clumsily searching for wounds sort of soothing. When she met no sticky patches of blood and no places where he stifled pained gasps, she sat back a little more relaxed.

“Is he still here?”

Tony had just cuffed Ben and was waiting for the proper authorities to come collect him. "Yes, but he won’t bother you. Tony has him.“ Charlie squeezed him as tight as she could and Loki felt his words become muddled with his chaotic thoughts. "I don’t deserve this.”

“Shut up.”

“He’s right. I’m a monster. I can’t fix you. This will never be enough.”

“Shut. Up.” She squeezed tighter.

“Charlie…”

“I’ll feel inclined to demonize you when you start hitting me for bumping into things like he did.”

“He did what?” Tony roared and Charlie started. Loki’s hand on her back settled her erratic pulse.

“That doesn’t justify me.”

“No, but it justifies me.”

Loki ripped his gaze away from the woman hugging him, forcing himself to focus on the limp body on the floor, instead. He could feel his brain justifying a million and one ways of torturing the cretin. He would enjoy it, making him scream in pain, but he had the feeling that Charlie would protest. After all, she had been mourning his departure just a few weeks ago. The vermin suddenly shifted as he stirred awake and blinked confusedly at Stark. 

“Tony?” Ben asked weakly, before the whine of his suit blasters filled the air and Tony sent a super-powered punch into his face.

“Oh, shit. I’ll be right back.” Loki peeled Charlie’s arms from around him and pressed a kiss to her crown. He scrambled to pull Tony back. “No. No, no, no. Not worth it. Ton-Tony! Stop.”

“Let go of me, Black Parade. I’m gonna fucking to kill him.” Loki hissed at the strain he was putting on his shoulders again, as he held Stark in a vice until he settled. “He put his hands on her and I’m going to return the favor.”

“No. Let him rot. Possibly with a cell mate who needs a punching bag.” Tony grumbled, prying free, though he stopped the assault. “Could you take the trash out, now? I don’t think he needs to be here a moment longer.”

–

Loki and Charlie sat on the floor of her living room some time later. Her attitude was bright–Loki would even go as far as to call it chirpy. It was as if a weight had been taken off of her shoulders. She held a steaming cup of tea, a blend of Loki’s own devise, and sipped noisily as his fingers handled the tresses of her hair with care and efficiency. The overly complicated plait, fifteen strands altogether, looked impressive as he tied off the end in a small elastic.

“There we go. All done. Alright, Charlie?” She hummed her agreement and nodded, busy taking another noisy sip. “Ever the lady.”

“Ever the lady,” she mocked back, imitating him and laughing at the fact she could practically hear him rolling his eyes. “How’s it look?”

“It’s good. It’s brushed.”

“Yeah, but, how does it look?”

“Oh.” Loki faltered shortly, feigning to fix a strand here and there to buy himself some time to order his thoughts. “Well, your hair is light brown, cinnamon, and glossy. Very curly. Quite soft, too.”

“Yeah, it’s called conditioner, greaseball,” she teased easily.

He chuckled, shoving her the lightest bit forward in response. “I started with a single braid in the front of your head, and started adding others a third down until they all joined near the back of your skull. Then you have a fifteen strand braid running all down your back.”

“What? Too lazy to go for 21?” She had reached back and was feeling the intricate knots with her fingers

“I’m not sure you can sit still long enough for 21 or 28, though you would look–” He wanted to say pretty, but it felt too wrong on his tongue. “–darling. Like a puppy in a sweater.”

“Thank you.” Her voice was quieter and he assumed it wasn’t for the braid.

“Don’t thank me. You have nothing to thank me for. I only did what was right.”

“You know, one of these days you’re going to have to stop being so glum and penitent. Whoever wants to forgive you, already did and the rest don’t care enough to change their minds.” She sighed, putting the mug down with a soft clink. “I know it’s not worth much, but I’m glad you're–”

“Don’t! Don’t say it, please.” His voice shuddered, as did his whole form, especially when Charlie, with all the care in the world, turned around in her place and reached for him until she gripped his jumper. His green eyes were internalizing every detail of her overly concerned expression, from the frown on her lips to the little notch that formed between her brows as they pulled together. “Charlie.”

“Loki of Asgard, god of Mischief and burdened with glorious purpose, I’m going to tell you a really terrible fact and you’re going to have to deal with it.”

For a moment he nodded, before he remembered that though her hazel eyes looked lively, they could not see him. “And what’s that?”

“When you brought the Chitauri and I–you know… In a backwards way, you saved me.”

“Charlotte, I–”

“I wouldn’t have escaped, otherwise. It didn’t start with me going blind, but I suspect you know that now. I will live because of your hare-brained plots.” Her hand had glided up his arm to his neck, and stopped at the curve of his jaw. “Not that I’m saying anything you did was right.” She patted him gently with a ghost of a smile on her face. Her touch burned him in his inadequacy.

“Why are you telling me this?” He managed to choke out, as he covered her hand with his, reveling in the ache it made him feel.

“Oh, buddy. The answer to that is really fucking complicated.” She chuckled. “But, the short of it is, as it turns out, I signed up for this, too.” If she minded the tears catching on her fingers, she did not mention it. “So, what do you say? Can we help each other out? Be friends?”

“Yes, please,” he replied breathlessly before wrapping his arms around her shoulders and pulling her in tight. From within the cocoon of his embrace, she giggled, but otherwise remained still until he settled down. For the first time in a while, Charlie ate without complaint, Loki felt at peace with himself and they both ate a whole gallon on mint chocolate chip ice cream by the spoonful on the couch.

[badwithten]

quatervois |  (n.) a crossroads; a critical decision or turning point in one’s life

lucas x reader part 5

gang au

this story will contain violence, drug use, swearing, angst and possibly suggestive scenes

a/n - getting rid of taglist because it was just stupid lmao

masterlist | prev | next

“I don't need your help” He spat out those words as if your touch was poisonous. Yet those words were the ones that hurt the most. You've barely known this kid for a week and all he's done is get you into trouble, yet he's willing to be rude to you when you offer him help. You begin to feel stupid even considering staying for him. Maybe you thought he was different, but it seems that you thought wrong. You don't bother wasting your breath on him, instead turning and heading back to where you came from. You try your best to hold up a strong persona, hiding the throbbing pain coming from your side.

“Wait Y/N don't go” You hear unstable footsteps stumbling from behind you. You turn and squint your eyes at him, unsure what his logic is, does he want you here or not?  You stopping gives him a chance to catch his breath once more, it's clear he isn't ok but he won't accept your help. 

“What is it, Lucas?” 

“I'm sorry” He swallows hard and closes his eyes. “Will you please help me?”

“They didn't have an ice pack so I hope frozen peas are ok” You walk out of the corner store, arms full of supplies, almost dropping them as you stumble into the gutter. Lucas lets out a chuckle from his position crouched on the curb. “You're laughing now but your health is in my hands”

“Sorry you're just” You wait for a reply as you place down all your bought onto the empty car park, it isn't the most sanitary but his injuries aren't exactly life-threatening. When you don't get a reply you look up to him, which was a mistake. He has such a pure smile on his face, his eyes are so bright and happy. So different from the eyes you saw moments before, those were filled with hate and anger. “Nevermind. Why didn't you get a bag anyway?”

“I don't like getting unnecessary plastic” He laughs once more, this time breaking contact from his eyes.

“Yeah of course” You frown but continue setting up what you need. You pull off your hoodie and place the frozen peas in it.

“Hold this on your lip” He takes it off of your hands as he watches you work. You could feel that his eyes never left yours. You scan over your body to look at what you should deal with first. From what you can tell it's mainly bruising, maybe the odd scrap but the most urgent thing is the blood soaking through on his thigh. “Is it alright if I cut your pants?”

“Only known me for a week and you're already trying to get into my pants aye? Didn't know you were like that Miss L/N” You sigh and grab the tear in his pants, ripping it away before he gives you a proper answer. “Hey those were some of my favorite pants”

“Get over yourself” The wound isn't too bad, the bleeding has pretty much already stopped but it still needs to be covered so as to not get infected. You get to work wrapping around bandages. Apart from the giant cut across his thigh, another thing catches your eye. The tattoo across his upper thigh. ‘Yukhei’. “What's this?”

You lightly trace over the name, when doing so the whole mood changes and Lucas seems sad.

“He was someone really special to me, his name meant happiness and that's what he bought to everyone around him. But he's gone now.” You feel guilty about bringing it up, you can't imagine what it's like for someone like him to lose a friend. “I guess I got it tattooed to keep his happiness around you know?”

“That's really nice Lucas” You try to little up the situation a bit but can't think of a way to segway after such a heavy comment. You press a little too hard around his cut and he flinches away. “Sorry, how did you get cut anyway?”

“Renjun, that little shit, he had a knife on him” Lucas doesn't find this concerning, more so he laughs about it as if a child threatening his laugh wasn't bad enough.

“Lucas, are you being serious right now?” You pull away from his leg and stand. 

“Wow calm down” He pulls himself up and attempts to place a hand on your shoulder as if to soothe though but you pull away.

“Don't tell me to calm down!” You raise your voice louder than you intended to and you can tell it takes Lucas by surprise. “So far you've drugged me, kidnapped me, threatened my life, and gotten me involved in a fight with seven guys where one of them had a knife?! And I've barely known you for a week”

“I didn't get you involved in the last one” You let out a frustrated grunt and slapped his arm. “Ok sorry sorry. It was never my intention to harm you in any way. You're just fun to be around you know?”

“I think I should go, there are more peas on the ground, I would use them quickly before they melt” You turn to leave but your body doesn't seem to move with you. Lucas doesn't want you to leave right away either. Clearing his throat as if to buy him more time to think of how to make you stay.

“Can I at least walk you home?” When you don't respond right away he must take it as a no, his mouth goes into overdrive trying to think of how to convince you. “It's just, cold and dark you know? And now that they know who you are I don't want you to get any more hurt because of me. Besides its how I can repay you for looking after me tonight, especially because of how much as an ass I've been”

“Lucas it's fine,” You think about your words for a second and you change your mind. Not wanting him to think he can walk all over you. “I mean it's not, but I think for tonight we can be fine”

Another smile comes across his face and it's then that you notice he hasn't got the peas of his face anymore.

“Didn't I just tell you to ice that?” You feel like his mother scolding him and he reacts similarly. Rushing to find wherever he abandoned your hoodie and scooping up the rest of the frozen veggies.

The walk back to yours was peaceful, despite all that had happened, Lucas made you feel at ease.  Even when he had to lean on you for most of the walk just to keep his balance. He was easy to talk to, not only was his way of seeing the world so special, but the way he listened to you made you feel like he truly cared. And you could tell that he did. No matter what random question he had asked you before he genuinely was interested in whatever your answer was. It was the first interaction with him that made you feel like you were talking to a human being. Not some roughed up gang member. But you can't help but feel uneasy around him most of the time. You are unable to forget his actions towards you, but you're willing to accept his change and growth. And so far he hasn't been bad, but is that enough for you to move on? 

When you finally arrived at your BnB, as much as you didn't want your conversation with him to end. You were also exhausted and in pain. You wanted nothing more than to whip up some food and lie down with ice on your ribs as you cried about the prior events. But when you looked back at Lucas you saw the same exhortation and pain in his eyes. For you to shut the door and let him stumble back to his hotel in the dark felt wrong. Even leaving him alone felt wrong after all that had just happened. So after you had said goodbye and he began to walk away, you called out something that so far you had only heard from his mouth.

“Hey Lucas, don’t go”

[hongnanglen-arina]

See You On Monday | SVT Interactive AU

05: Failure?

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Masterlist | Previous | Next

Warnings: a little angsty Words: 1.903 A/N: Hey there! Here’s the fifth chapter of my little experiment is here. Sorry, I thought it was posted yesterday but something went wrong I guess. Anyways, at the end of each chapter you have to decide for the next move (please show me your decision as a comment, a reblog or send an ask) Each week you have 3 days for making a decision until the next chapter comes out on Sunday. I hope you will like it ♡

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You curse under your breath but decide to speak up yourself and not tell them through Hoshi.

“D-don’t take the black pills! Only the white ones!”

“What?” Hoshi was helping Jun when he hears your voice. Loud and clear. He looks to your direction with confusion written all over his face when he notices it too. The pills from his box have a different color that yours. You don’t care if the others hear you or not. At least you are sure that one of them can so you don’t waste a minute and rush to the other side to collect all black pills before anyone can take them. You have no idea if this was really the right choice but something in you told you so. You have the feeling that you are doing the right thing.

As you rush to Wonwoo who has a black pill in his hand, his eyes are focused on yours as if he can see you. Although his eyes are half closed because of the poison, he raise his hand a little for you to take if out of his hand. Seeing them in pain caused your heart to ache. For a second, you stay beside him and doubt your decision. In your head it wasn’t a game anymore. As much as you tried to remember yourself that it’s just a game your friend had recommend to you, you slowly but steadily fell deeper into the story.

Hoshi’s voice pulls you back into reality so you quickly get up and help him hand out the white pills and assist them as much as possible, as someone no one can see.

After everyone who got poisoned swallowed a white pill, you watch them for a while before walking away and taking a seat a couple of tables away from them. Absentmindedly, you knead your thighs as your mind goes wild. Why two colors? This must be another test. But it’s a 50% possibility that you could be wrong. There was no hint that told you which one was the right one against the poison or maybe both are?  

You panic slightly. What if it were the wrong pills? Or worse, both colors were wrong?? No that couldn’t be. There has to be a right choice. Or was it to just wait for it to be over? No. He said they would help. That narrator told you that they would help. He wasn’t lying, or-

“What are you thinking about?” 

Your head snaps up to see Hoshi beside you, also sitting on a chair. After knowing who it was, you can’t help but to lower your gaze again. “I’m just worried i guess.” 

The boy beside you makes an agreeing noise, gaze fixated at his friends as he folds his hands in his lap. Neither of you says a word. The room was quiet besides some soft voices, talking to the boys on the floor, saying reassuring words.

“I’m glad we have you here, helping us.” Hoshi tells you after a while. You look at him but he doesn’t meet your eyes. He doesn’t move at all. You notice how he bites on his lower lip, slightly chewing on it. He is nervous just as you are.

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“Have you heard that voice, Jeonghan?” Jeonghan nods at Seungcheol. “Yeah. Loud and clear as if she was right beside me when I was helping Vernon.” Seungcheol sighs and pats Seokmin’s shoulder who is sitting next to him, leaning against the wall. Now all 7 poisoned boys are sitting beside each other in one row, all against the wall. This way it is easier for the others to assist them in for example giving them water. 

“Your nose isn’t bleeding anymore. The pill seems to work, ” Woozi says to Mingyu who is half smiling with closed eyes. “I feel a bit better though.”

Joshua’s head is resting on Jun’s shoulder as Seungcheol fans air at him. Previously he told him that he was feeling hot. Maybe because of the pain and the sweat. “I can’t believe i got poisoned. That’s a newbie mistake.”

“Thought you were clever,” Wonwoo jokes and suddenly Joshua has enough energy to look up to glare at him. “I’m sorry to correct you but I am.”

“Whatever guys.”

Jeonghan grins and shrugs. “Guess y’all have to listen to the maknae.”

“Wow, what a time to be alive.”

“Shush Seokmin.” Vernon smiles tired.

“Well, seems like y’all are fine again if y’all are able to talk like that.” Jeonghan snorts and helps Wonwoo with the water.

While the others feel better slowly, two of them inspect the reason of the chaos. Seungkwan and Minghao stand beside the long table and he holds a small plate with traditional sweets. Everything looks normal. Seungkwan wonders if the poison was sprinkled onto the food. With a fork, he pokes the fried chicken. 

“They could have used it to make the food or use the poison as a ‘special finish’,” Minghao states, now holding the bowl with Japchae. Seungkwan nods and looks at the others with a sigh. That’s when he notices Hoshi sitting in the back, seemingly talking to himself.

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“Can I ask you something?”

Hoshi’s sudden voice makes you jump a little since it was rather quiet between the two of you. “Uhm, sure.”

“How did you know that the write pills were right and will help?”

“Uhh..” you have no answer to that. Fidgeting with the hem of your shirt, you look at the boys, avoiding Hoshi’s eyes on you. There is no denying the fact that it was just a feeling. That you weren’t 100% sure. “I… felt like it has to be. I’m sorry. It could have ended up very badly but you still listened to me.” The blonde boy beside you doesn’t react so you turn your head to him, catching him shake his head. “It’s okay. Everything’s fine. We shouldn’t think about what could have happened when they feel okay again. It worked and that’s all that matters.” You feel a little better hearing those words from him. Your intention was to help and nothing else.

“Thanks.”

Hoshi is about to say something when you see Seungcheol helps Wonwoo to walk over to where you are sitting with Hoshi. Wonwoo wipes off the sweat from his forehead with a white scarf while the other arm is wrapped around Seungcheol’s neck. 

When they are nearly right in front of you, you get up and want to step aside when you hear Wonwoo’s voice that makes you stop in your tracks. “Where are you going?”

Swallowing, you look into his cat-like eyes. Seungcheol has a confused expression on his face. “What do you mean? Hoshi’s sitting there and not moving at all.”

“I don’t mean him. I mean her.” 

Your eyes widen and that’s when you realize that Hoshi joined you earlier as well. Without seeing you? Automatically, you turn to Hoshi, pointing your finger at him. “D-do you…. also?” You blink at him for silently explaining what you are talking about.

He understands right away. “Yeah.”

“Since when!?”

“When you helped with the black pills.”

“And you??” You point at Wonwoo.

“Earlier. When it became dark in the room. But just for a second. And then.. again when you helped us.”

“W-wait. You are seeing the ghost!?” Finally Seungcheol joins your conversation, eyes wide when the realization slowly sink in. 

Your mouth is slightly open. Why are you scared all of a sudden. Furrowing your eyebrows, you try to find words to form a sentence. To explain the situation. 

Suddenly it was dark.

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When you open your eyes, you are lying on the cold floor. Groaning, you push yourself up with your hands so that you are sitting. Looking around, you can’t see anything but it seems empty. Where are the others? Why are you alone?

A faint sound finds its way to your ears. A whimper?

Your body feels heavy but you manage to get up. Where are you and what is that sound? Stumbling a few steps forward, the sound gets louder. It is a whimper.

“Who’s that?” You ask into the empty room. It seems as if it comes from the next room.

“It’s going to be alright. Don’t worry. It’s… going to be alright.”

“R-really?”

Someone was crying. Continuing to walk towards the voices, your breathing quickens. What the hell is happening? Why are you trapped in a dark room all by yourself. Why is someone crying and the strange feeling that it is someone you’ve been with just a moment ago makes you feel bad. You feel hot and cold at the same time when you hear voices again.

“Why don’t you say something? Open your eyes!”

Tears are filling up your eyes. They are indeed familiar voices. “Hey! What is happening!? Are you alright???” Your shouting voice fills the room and the echo hits you. You feel small and helpless. Without noticing, tears start to roll down your cheeks.

Out of nowhere a deep voice appears and startles you, causing your breathing to hitch. 

“Seems like you care a lot for them. You forgot what I told you, mh?”

With your palms, you wipe the tears off your face and ball your fists, ready to fight whoever and wherever that narrator is. “Your mission was to just make it out alive. With no bond.” He pauses and your shoulders drop. You are alive. But are the others? And what about the bond? You didn’t bond with them, do you? You still know that it is all just a game and not real- “And you failed.” “I didn’t fail!” You are quick with your reaction. Your courage to contradict surprising you as well. You feel offended all of a sudden. You did everything you could and the boys even felt better with the pills. You didn’t fail. 

“What about your tears?” Your breath hitches again. “You care for them.”

“B-but-“

“Controlling emotions isn’t an easy task, I’ll give you that. Actually I’m a little sad. I wanted to watch you a little longer. Too bad.”

You stand there, staring into the darkness while the crying in the background becomes more and more less audible.

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“God, my head..” You cough and whine before opening your eyes. You feel something over your eyes. The VR glasses! Are you back in your living room? Hesitantly, you grab it and pull it off your head, rubbing your eyes and adjust to the light. It is dark in your room. The only light comes from the tv which shows you the cover of the game. Seeing it makes your heart ache.

“They look so happy… I wonder how they are… wait. Don’t be stupid. They are just characters in a game!” You never fell for a game like that and catching yourself to actually think it’s real makes you even more embarrassed. You turn around and want to go away but something makes you stop in your tracks. Turning to the tv again, you look at the cover. Your eyes roam over the picture of the 13 boys.

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What are you going to do?

Start the game again OR let it be?

You can decide.

[fromkaermorhentolettenhove]

Salvation - Chapter 3

Previous - Next

Chapter Summary: An injury and nightmare bring Geralt and Jaskier closer

Words: 2555

Additional Tags: Non-explicit Injury, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst

-

AO3

or

There were many things Geralt expected to see in the morning, but it certainly wasn’t Jaskier with just his smallclothes on, trying on his new outfits.

“Blue or red?” Jaskier asked, switching between the two doublets. 

Geralt blinked the sleep away, wondering where the Jaskier from yesterday had gone. 

“New clothes always make me happy,” Jaskier grinned, as if sensing Geralt’s questions. “You chose very nice colors as well.” 

He examined himself in the mirror, still unsure of which outfit to go with. If it meant Jaskier getting some actual clothes on, Geralt could make that decision easily. 

“Blue.”

“I hoped you would say that,” Jaskier pulled on the blue outfit, leaving Geralt to wonder why Jaskier had asked him in the first place then.

Jaskier continued to talk as Geralt got himself ready for the day, asking questions that he didn’t wait for Geralt to answer, pointing out little details in his clothing. By the time they had retrieved Roach from the stable, Geralt had finally thought of something to add to Jaskier’s conversation, but Jaskier was quicker.

“Where are we headed today?” He asked as they left the village, the sun just beginning to creep over the horizon.

“Wherever the next job is,” Geralt shrugged. “Clients usually find me first.”

Jaskier nodded, hands gripped tight to the strap of his lute case. “You must have an awfully good sense of direction then. Being able to head into the unknown and finding a destination anyway.”

��I suppose. My senses don’t really give me a choice,” Geralt mused. 

He had never thought much about his abilities beyond how to be better, stronger. All of them were connected, keeping him alive, but they were nothing to brag about. 

“Does that mean you can see things others can’t?” Jaskier cocked his head. 

Seeing there was no way out of this conversation, Geralt scrambled to think of something interesting amongst the mundane. “And smell, hear....whatever animals can do, I can do moreso.”

Jaskier’s eyes grew wide, a child-like excitement transforming his face. “So, what do I smell like?”

Geralt blinked. Of all senses to focus on, Geralt didn’t expect it to be his ability to smell every emotion, to know when a flower has bloomed or when wine has been poisoned. 

“Nice,” is all Geralt managed before looking away.

“Nice as in…?” Jaskier prodded, tipping his head to get into Geralt’s peripheral.

Exchanging a glance with Roach, Geralt then turned back to Jaskier and took a quick, soft inhale. 

“A sunset on an autumn evening.”

Geralt snapped his gaze to the ground. The words had just come out, there had been no thought behind them, but now Geralt could feel the weight of every letter. What it could mean to someone like Jaskier. 

“Oh, I…” Jaskier breathed. “Thank you.”

Giving a stiff nod, Geralt marched on, hoping Jaskier would distract himself with mindless chatter. 

“I wish I could say what you smell like. Charcoal perhaps? Heroics, heartbreak…”

“Onion,” Geralt couldn’t help interrupt.

Jaskier paused before he let out a bright laugh. Geralt nearly jumped out of his skin, hand reflexively going to his dagger and he stared at the other man. How happy, beautiful, he looked, congratulating Geralt on his little joke. Geralt’s walls dropped and a glimmer of hope filled his soul. 

It seemed Jaskier was on his way to healing and really, Geralt couldn’t ask for more of the day that awaited them.

~

They had been in these woods for hours. 

Jaskier, uncomplaining, had kept up with Geralt’s pace, keeping the silence at bay as they traversed through a barely seen path. If it wasn’t for the sudden grumbling of Jaskier’s stomach, Geralt would’ve kept going. 

However, he had to remember a human was with him and as well as Jaskier was doing, Geralt needed to make sure Jaskier was properly taken care of. 

“Let’s stop here,” Geralt led Roach over a cluster of trees and hoisted one of the saddlebags off of her. 

While Jaskier didn’t say much beyond his smile, Geralt could still feel his relief, the eagerness as he drank deeply from the water skin. 

“It’s not much,” Geralt admitted as he handed Jaskier some bread and dried berries.

“It’s more than enough,” Jaskier reassured with a grin.

The two ate their food, or rather, Geralt watched Jaskier eat, pretending to take a bite here and there when Jaskier looked at him. Geralt wouldn’t need a proper meal until later, but he didn’t want Jaskier fussing over him. The man had enough to worry about as it was. 

While Geralt allowed his mind to wander, his senses remained at attention and sure enough, the presence of danger entered his mind. He shot to his feet, eyes searching the trees that surrounded them and it was only when he heard a small breath did Geralt turn to look at Jaskier.

“Is something wrong?”

“There’s something nearby,” Geralt muttered. “Not sure what it is yet, but I’m guessing it won’t let us camp here without a fight.”

Jaskier stepped closer to Geralt, his eyes searching the woods around them. 

“Stay by Roach,” Geralt held out a hand as his other drew a sword. 

Not waiting for Jaskier’s reply, Geralt marched into the forest, leaving Jaskier and Roach by themselves. 

“What if it comes to us?” Jaskier whispered to himself, pressing against Roach. 

Roach, ever understanding, herded Jaskier towards a clearing, standing behind him with her head hanging over his shoulder. 

“Thanks, Roach,” Jaskier reached up, petting her neck. 

It was then several cacophonous noises echoed through the forest. Growls mixed with stomach-turning crunches made Jaskier fear the worst, his ears unable to find where the sounds were coming from. He could hear Geralt’s shouts, some more painful than others, leaving Jaskier wanting to run to him. It went on for too long and when the forest went quiet, Jaskier began to panic. His voice caught in his throat when he wanted nothing more than to call out Geralt’s name.  

The trees shook around him and Jaskier shivered, his nerves starting to get the best of him. Several branches cracked before Geralt came shoving through the brush, covered in monster guts. 

“Geralt,” Jaskier cried out in relief and rushed to the man, only coming to a stop when he saw Geralt gripping onto his side. “You’re injured!”

“In my bag,” Geralt ground out. “There’s a green bottle. I need to put it on the wound.”

“Green,” Jaskier nodded, scrambling over to the bags. He all but dumped the contents onto the forest floor, finally procuring the bottle. 

Geralt had already started taking off his armor, ignoring the pain before Jaskier stopped him with a hand. 

“You stay still. I don’t want you agitating the wound any more.”

Geralt did as he was told, adjusting as Jaskier asked until he was laying back, his upper layers finally off of him. Jaskier poured the liquid onto the gash, eyebrows furrowing even more at Geralt’s hiss of pain. 

“It’s working,” Geralt tried to reassure, just wanting to deal with the injury with himself. 

Jaskier pursed his lips, then went back to the bags, grabbing what Geralt couldn’t see. When Jaskier was at his side again, Geralt watched as he threaded a needle with shaking hands. 

“Jaskier–”

“–No. I don’t want to hear it,” Jaskier glared at him. 

With a grunt, Geralt stared at the sky, anticipating the oncoming pain. He winced as the needle passed through his skin, but Jaskier worked quickly to close the wound, knotting off the string and cutting it with his teeth. 

“You’re not allowed to move for the rest of the evening,” Jaskier said as he cleaned up the area around them. “If you need anything I’ll help you.”

Geralt was ready to argue and then thought better of it. Jaskier was right after all. It was a decent wound, though Geralt wanted to point out that he’d be almost healed by morning regardless. 

“Are you always this reckless?” Jaskier asked as he gathered sticks for a fire. 

“My years of skill aren’t reckless,” Geralt retorted. “There’s no predictability with monsters.”

Jaskier muttered something to himself as he struck stone against flint. At last, the fire sparked to life, illuminating the growing darkness. Geralt knew his answer wasn’t enough to satisfy Jaskier and he allowed himself to open up a little more. 

“Witchers know they’ll die fighting. No one’s heard of a witcher dying of old age.”

“But that doesn’t mean you should.” Jaskier stopped, a frustrated breath leaving him. “When I was waiting for you, my heart stopped several times. I thought for sure you were done for.”

Geralt held back a laugh. “I won’t go down because of some kikimoras.”

“Well, I didn’t know that,” Jaskier bit back. He had taken to staring at the fire, his shoulders hunched up and Geralt wanted to reach out, to calm down the storm inside of Jaskier. 

“I’m sorry,” Geralt sighed. “I haven’t had a travelling companion like you. I’m not used to people caring.”

Jaskier hesitated before turning to Geralt. “I’m sorry too. I should know that you are more than capable of fighting monsters and taking care of yourself.”

Silence edged between them, the fire crackling, and Jaskier moved closer to Geralt. It was a comfort Geralt never knew he needed and he almost thought as much to say so. 

“I appreciate what you’ve done,” Geralt said instead. 

The start of a smile appeared on Jaskier’s face, his pose relaxing as he tried to shrug it off. “It’s what friends do.”

Friends. There was a word Geralt hadn’t thought about in years. He didn’t dare. Yet now, with Jaskier staring at him, his heart thumped in his chest. Surely they weren’t friends, they hadn’t known each other long at all. That didn’t seem to matter to Jaskier as he let out a cough before going over to the bags and grabbing the bed roll and some nourishment. He eased Geralt onto the bedroll, then helping him take sips of water from the skin. 

When Geralt had first freed Jaskier from his torture, he didn’t imagine this man would stand by him, now tending to his wounds. Destiny certainly had a sense of humor, leaving Geralt to do nothing more than watch Jaskier move back and forth across the camp. 

Despite all his pain, his past, Jaskier moved like the wind, effortless and graceful. Every action appeared to have a thought behind it and when Jaskier came back to his side, Geralt let their eyes meet. 

“Rest now, Geralt,” Jaskier spoke, soft and gentle as he brushed some hair away from Geralt’s face. 

Geralt obeyed Jaskier, as if it had always been his second nature, his mind drifting away to the sounds of a crackling fire and Jaskier’s knife notching at a piece of wood.

At first there was nothing but darkness. Then, little by little hazy images appeared, distant voices calling out to Geralt. He tried to ask who was there, where he was, but his questions went unanswered as with each passing moment, the scene became clearer. There was a smiling face, laughter that Geralt hadn’t heard in decades. His soul was light and he ran towards the figure, into their open arms. 

When he pulled back from the embrace, the face before him was all too familiar, filled with the calm before the storm. Before Geralt could protest, beg for forgiveness, the ground slipped out from under him. 

Shooting up, Geralt panted as he stared about wide-eyed. The forest was filled with shadows, unfamiliar before Geralt’s eyes landed on Roach. A shuddered breath left him and he glanced at the glowing embers of the fire nearby. Just past that was the sleeping outline of Jaskier and it was enough to ground Geralt and his beating heart. 

Throwing his blanket to the side, Geralt got to his feet despite the protest from his healing wound and he trudged to the outskirts of the clearing. His friend was never far from his mind, the passing years doing little to heal the hole in his heart. Time and time again, others tried to convince him of his innocence, but Geralt could not see past it, could not allow himself any forgiveness. 

“Geralt?”

Jaskier’s voice jolted Geralt from his thoughts and he whipped around, immediately regretful when Jaskier backed away. 

“I thought you were asleep,” Geralt mumbled, looking away from Jaskier’s wandering gaze. 

“I was...,” Jaskier admitted as he took a step closer. “But I heard you get up. Is everything alright? Is there another monster around?”

Geralt shook his head, the truth refusing to come forth. He didn’t know where to start, if Jaskier even wanted to hear any of it and his conflict consumed him. 

“Was it a bad dream? Your friend?” Jaskier asked in a hushed tone, trying to meet Geralt’s eyes. 

Unable to stop his nod, Geralt fought against the sting in his eyes and crossed his arms as if that would protect himself. He swallowed, his words thick in his mouth, a shallowness carving itself into his chest. 

“Not many of us made it through the trials,” Geralt began, his voice shaking. “Those of us that did, we became very close. Brothers, companions, anything to feel human again.” Tilting his head back, Geralt stared at the canopy above, a silent wish to keep his tears at bay. “Gweld was his name. We did everything together, held each other through the nights. Nothing could tear us apart.”

Geralt screwed his eyes shut as images of steel, blood, screams echoed in his ears. He had to do what was necessary, had to save the others. 

“I couldn’t help him. He had to be killed and I was the only one who could do it,” Geralt whispered, curling into himself. 

The first tear began to fall and an aching emptiness filled his heart. His body began to numb as he held down his crying, the void swallowing him whole. He was all alone, cursed to carry this weight for the rest of his life. 

An arm wrapped around Geralt’s waist first before Jaskier’s hand carded through his hair, guiding Geralt’s head to rest on his shoulder. Burying his face into the crook of Jaskier’s neck, Geralt allowed more tears to spill, let his arms wrap around Jaskier and hold him close. Despite the stabbing pain, warmth spread through Geralt as he gripped tight to Jaskier. He shook with quiet sobs and Jaskier embraced him through it all with a gentle understanding. 

Geralt was sure he had been crying for hours by the time he lifted his head. A dull ache thudded at the back of his head and he let Jaskier lead him back to his bedroll, strong hands guiding him to the ground. 

“Thank you for sharing that with me,” Jaskier spoke just above a whisper, fingers kneading into the tight muscles of Geralt’s shoulder. 

Barely managing a nod, Geralt exhaled as he relaxed into Jaskier’s touch. Sleep was beginning to take over again and Geralt welcomed it with open arms, if only to forget for a little while. The last thing he heard before he slipped away was a secret that he would let Jaskier keep, something that would forever bind them.

“We have each other now. We’ll be okay.”

[feelingfolegandros]

Day 77 - ???: January 11 - March 23

Hello out there! Happy Spring to those in the Northern Hemisphere! Today doesn’t quite feel like things are thawing just yet. Well, nothing ever really freezes here, at least physically, but you get me, right? There was freezing rain this morning, and most of the day has been windy and moody. I’m in a slightly gloomy state, so it fits nicely. I know it won’t last, the grey in the sky and in my mind.

Winter continued onward in January. I made new friends via Q.E. F.J. and H.G. Both women. F.J. is Italian and lives here at least half the year with her husband and baby, and H.G. is Irish and lives here most of the time. They’re both great. We all went for a walk together a couple of weeks ago, and I felt instantly at ease with both of them. No pretension, no internal tension, just vibes. Haha… Q.E. and I ended up at Livadi, and she asked me if I wanted to swim. I hadn’t planned on it, but the weather was good. That was my last swim! Of that month, maybe…But since I’ve been a few more times throughout February and March. It feels amazing each time and like I’ve accomplished something, even though it’s just cold water.

Another day, the four of us met at H.G.’s wonderful home. F.J. made Tiramisu. We ate it along with tea and coffee. It felt so good to commiserate with a group of women. That’s something I’m missing these days. I’m so fortunate in many ways. My life is simple. I wake up, do my morning things like drink hot water with lemon and meditate and journal… Attempt to do some work. Z.X. usually comes home in the afternoon and we eat something. He usually sleeps, I find it difficult to unwind in the middle of the day. More work, maybe a walk or some exercise, getting distracted by various phenomena on the rectangle (my euphemism for my phone), maybe more food, probably watching something together on Netflix or if the signal is working, something on good ol’ fashioned TV.  Back in February we had a nice group dinner with Q.E. and her husband, H.G. and her partner, and me and Z.X. Another situation that felt comfortable and heart-warming and necessary. Z.X. and I go to sleep so early that we didn’t last as long as we could have, but I’m pretty sure we made it past midnight. 

Now that we’re firmly implanted in 2021, it seems like everyone asks me “What are you doing this summer?” I barely know the answer… Does anyone, on an existential level? I don’t really want to talk about it, but it seems bleak and naive to view the v as a panacea for everything going on right now. It’s so much more complex than that but at the same time it could all be so simple. Remembering that we’re humans not machines, that we all need love and to express ourselves and to move around as we please and to have our needs taken care of and more…

On a practical level, it looks like I will live with Z.X. We basically already do anyway. Whenever I’m not entirely convinced about a decision or situation, I tell myself it’ll be a good story, at the very least. I’m looking forward to seeing what summer has in store, because I’m not entirely sure. Yes, I will do my esoteric things and write, but I could use something guaranteed to be fairly substantial. Someone tentatively offered me a job at a Taverna on the beach. It’s an interesting proposition. I couldn’t ever see myself working in the service industry in let’s say, North America, where you’re expected to be fast and chipper and overly apologetic, but I’ve experienced the vibe at restaurants here, and no one’s in a rush. Which is the way it should be, especially if you’re coming to visit a tiny Greek island to escape from the big city or whatever. So much of me is praying that this summer will be as magical as the last. Falling in love with this place, things flowing nicely. Feeling fulfilled and healthy. Being able to travel to places I’ve never been before...Realizing it was possible to live by the sea, feeling hopeful, feeling reassured that things will work out. They always do, in their own way. For some reason I’m thinking of the intestines of the human body with all of their complicated folds, and nooks, and crannies. We eat something, and it eventually gets down there, sometimes after a long and complicated journey, sometimes it just passes right through us. And whether it’s something we shouldn’t have ingested or something incredibly delicious and good for us, it’ll all come out somehow and be okay. Or we die if it’s poison…Haha.. I’m not sure where I’m going with this...

Wherever you are, I hope that you are digesting life to the fullest given the circumstances! 

Sending love and all that good stuff your way. 

[perspective-series]

Injured Perspective (9/12)

By: @arc852 and @hiddendreamer67

Warnings: Unwanted medication

First Chapter || Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

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 “Logan, I’m back. And I have dinner.” He said gently as he entered the room. He ended up heating up the soup from earlier, not wanting it to go to waste. He set it down on the desk and gave Logan a smile as he peeked into the box.

Logan didn’t bother acknowledging the human, staring resolutely at a corner of the box.

 Patton sighed. This silent treatment was becoming a regular occurrence. “Please, don’t be like that Logan…”

Logan shifted further, turning his back to the human.

 Patton sighed but went ahead and scooped the little guy into his hands. “Will you at least tell me how you’re feeling?”

Logan shivered, unnerved by the sudden contact as well as the chill evening air. Still he kept his lips sealed.

 Patton sighed. Guess he would be having to do it the hard way again. He gently pressed his thumb on Logan’s forehead, feeling to see how warm it was. It had actually gotten much cooler, which Patton smiled at. “Looks like your fever is almost all the way down.”

“Don’t touch me.” Logan muttered half-heartedly, not bothering to lean back. He knew what would happen, Patton would just touch him anyways.

 “Aww, kiddo, it’s alright.” Patton said with a soft smile but he sighed. Why couldn’t Logan see that he was just trying to help him?

 Gently, Patton scooped Logan up so he was sitting in his cupped palm. “Let’s get some food in you, yeah?” He grabbed the spoon and started to scoop some soup into it.

“Don’t.” Logan shook his head softly, squeezing his eyes shut.

 Patton brought the spoon up to Logan’s face. “Open wide.”

Logan shook his head further, leaning away.

 Patton sighed, pushing the spoon a little closer. “Logan, please.” The little guy needed to eat something.

No. Logan wanted to protest aloud, but he worried that if he did the spoon would just get shoved in his mouth.

It was so...unfair. Logan could not do anything to stop Patton’s advances. He was helpless to the human’s ‘care’. Logan was already weak from his illness and now he felt more disadvantaged than ever before. The borrower was able to do nothing to direct his own life.

Logan’s eyes began to leak, the frustration of everything beginning to surface.

 Patton noticed the tears starting to run down Logan’s cheeks and his eyes went wide, he put down the spoon and held Logan a little closer. “No, no, hey, please don’t cry. What’s wrong? Are you okay?” Patton asked, concern clear in his voice and eyes.

“I do not cry.” Logan quickly wiped at his eyes, knowing it certainly would not help him if the human pitied him more. “And of course I am not alright! I am being held captive by a human who is treating me like an incompetent child.”

 Patton’s eyes widened. “I-I’m just trying to take care of you because you’re sick!” He exclaimed. “I-I just want to help you get better.”

“I do not need assistance!” Logan insisted. “And I certainly don’t need to be coddled and spoonfed and pitied.”

 “W-Well it sure looked like you needed help when I found you the other night. Practically delirious on my kitchen counter.” Patton said, biting his lip. “You can’t tell me you were in the right state to go back to wherever you lived.”

“I was plenty capable of returning home.” Logan glared. “And Virgil was back there to help me.”

 Patton hummed. “Where...do you live?” Patton asked.

“....nearby.” Logan knew to be cryptic, for surely Patton would go after his home if given that knowledge.

 “Well, I figured that...I did find you on my counter after all…”Patton sighed. “Look, there has to be something I can do to make this better for you. Because I do still think this is for the best.”

“Exactly. That is what you think.” Logan pointed out. “You keep speaking as though you want what is most suitable for my needs yet you refuse to listen to my own ideals.”

 “Because I do. And all you’ve been saying is to let you go but you’re getting better aren’t you? My way is working.” Patton tried.

“No, my internal processes are working.” Logan argued. “My body is healing on its own with no assistance from you. Quite the opposite, in fact. This constant stress is not helping.”

 Patton deflated a little. “That...That can’t be true. What about the cool towel and the soup? That’s been working great on you, right? And I was going to get you some medicine here soon too.” Patton revealed.

“I do not require any of your human devices.” Logan countered. “Anything you supplied I could have supplied myself.”

 “Well, not with how sick you were.” Patton said, remembering how Logan had been.

“Then I would have asked Virgil for help.” Logan huffed. “Regardless, I would manage.”

 “But...how would I know if you really are okay?” Patton asked. He cared about Logan, he didn’t just want to up and forget him. He would worry too much to just forget.

“I would be fine, but regardless that is none of your business.” Logan narrowed his gaze.

 “Maybe it wasn’t before but it is now.” Patton frowned sadly. “I can’t just let you go not knowing if you really were okay or not.”

“It is only your business because you have made it your business to be in my business.”  Logan spat.

 “...I was just trying to help.” Patton mumbled. “I couldn’t just leave you like that.”

“You can help by releasing me.” Logan countered.

 “I really don’t think that would be very helpful…” Patton said, looking away from Logan. 

“Why not?” Logan pressed. “Give me one good reason, a truly logical one past your preconceived notion of knowing what is ‘best’,” Logan threw up air quotes around the word ‘best’, “and...I will agree to stay.”

 “Okay, well um…” Patton racked his brain. “You need medicine. Regularly. I know your fever is going down and that’s great but it’s been about the same for a while and the only way it will get any better is with regular doses of medicine. But...you don’t have access to medicine. And if you do, you don’t know which kind you should take or how much you should give yourself. But I can. If you stay, you’ll get better quicker just with the medicine I can provide alone.” Patton explained.

“A borrower does not require medicine.” Logan argued. “None of us have ever required it in the past.” Of course, it would have been useful, but Logan was not willing to admit that point right now.

 “Well...have you ever been this sick before?” Patton asked.

“...no.” Logan admitted. Truly, he had never been sick for this long. It was beginning to worry him, but he had much larger concerns at the moment. Concerns of a human nature, to be specific.

 “See! You didn’t need medicine before because those were minor illnesses. I’m sorry to say but this seems a lot worse and it won’t just get better with rest and soup. I only waited so long to give you some to make sure you were a bit better and wouldn’t throw it up.” Patton continued to explain. He needed Logan to see that staying with him was for the better.

“Fine, I will take your medicine.” Logan conceded, hoping it would not be poisonous. “And when it does nothing to improve my state, will you release me to heal in my own manner?’

 “Deal but if it does, and I know it will, you have to stay.” Patton said back, grinning wide.

“I will stay long enough to obtain this medicine.” Logan corrected. 

 “And get all the way better.” Patton added.

“...and then what?” Logan asked, now curious. “What do you plan to do with me then?”

 “Oh, well, we can...we can cross that bridge when we come to it! We really should be focusing on getting you better first, though. Let me go get some medicine for you!” He placed Logan back in the box and ran to the kitchen to grab said medicine.

Logan did not find Patton’s answer reassuring. Quite the contrary, in fact. Of course that was also to be expected. Logan was a fool for even considering the possibility of a human who would let him go willingly, no matter what Virgil claimed.

 It took a little while for Patton to crush the pill and figure out how much to give to Logan but he needed to take the precaution or else it could hurt the borrower. He was confident about the end product though and so he took the small bit of crushed pill and a cap full of water and took it to Logan.

 “Alright Lo, I’m gonna need you to take this with some water.” He held out a spoon with the dot of crushed pill on it as he set the cap of water down next to Logan.

“Why do I consume it with water?” Logan asked, hesitantly grabbing the substance in his hand.

 “It helps it to go down better. And since I crushed it up, it’ll taste pretty powdery, so some water to get the taste out of your mouth as well.” Patton explained.

Logan followed the strange instructions, gagging a bit on the strange substance as he quickly took a gulp of water. The mixture washed down his throat.

 “There we go! Now it should take a half hour, to an hour to kick in. Don’t be scared if you feel sleepy or a bit loopy either. That’s just one of the affects.” Patton explained, taking the spoon and cap back once Logan was done with them.

“Medicine has side effects?” Logan repeated, feeling his heart rate pick up at this added tidbit of information. “How is a substance that will render me incapable useful in any way? You were just attempting to sedate me!” 

 “Huh? N-No!” Patton raised his hands in surrender. “The side effects aren’t...always good but it means that the medicine is in you and working to get rid of your sickness.” Patton explained. “And the sleep affect it has is actually there to help you rest in order to get better even sooner.”

“So it is a sedative.” Logan frowned. “But...a sedative with purpose.”

 “Exactly!” Patton said with a grin. 

“How...how long did you say it took to…?” Logan twirled his fingers around his head. He was beginning to feel a bit...fuzzy. Similar to when his fever was at its peak.

 Patton frowned. “Are you already feeling it? That’s weird...maybe it’s because you’re smaller it kicks in faster?”

“I feel funny.” Logan mumbled, slowly sitting down. “The medicine is in my brain.”

 “I mean, I guess that’s...half true?” Patton said after thinking about it for a moment. “Don’t worry, you’ll be fine. You just need to lay down and rest. Let it go through your system.”

“I’m feeling tired.” Logan gave a large yawn, stretching his arms up as far as they could reach. “It’s the seda...sementa...sedadaditive.” Logan mumbled the last bit, trying to get his tongue to cooperate and say actual words.

 “Aww,” Patton couldn’t help but coo. “Shh, just get some sleep, okay?” Patton said, reaching down and gently petting Logan’s head.

“I can’t sleep.” Logan spoke stubbornly, a pout on his face. For once he did not try to dodge away from Patton’s touch. “I gotta stay guarded.”

 “I’ll protect you, you’ll be perfectly safe.” Patton promised, continuing to pet Logan head.

“I don’t trust you.” Logan softly admitted.

 Patton felt his heart break at that. “I...I know.” He said with a sigh. “But I will keep you safe. I just want to see you get better, Logan.”

“I know.” Logan subconsciously leaned into the touch, looking up at Patton. Perhaps it was the medicine, but Logan truly believed Patton would not harm him. The human had done nothing to indicate otherwise, strangely enough.

“But you also want to keep me.” Logan shook his head sadly. “And I don’t want to be kept.”

 Patton’s eyes widened. “O-Oh…” He bit his lip. “Logan, I…” He trailed off, sighing. Now was not the time to try and convince Logan he could have a better life here with him. He’d wait until he was better and less...loopy. “Get some rest, bud.” 

“I am not bud.” Logan frowned. “I am Logan.”

 Patton chuckled. “Sorry. Get some rest, Logan.” He repeated.

“I’m going to get some rest now.” Logan declared, seeming to not have heard Patton’s statement. He laid down on the blanket, out within moments.

 Patton finally took his hand back and looked at Logan softly. He sighed before going to get ready for bed himself.

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

 “I think it’s late enough.” Virgil said, seeing the sun set through the window. “Patton should be asleep soon.”

“Hmm?” Roman glanced out the window, almost forgetting why they were waiting around. “...oh. Right.”

 “Yeah, so…” Virgil shifted on his feet. “I guess this is...goodbye?”

“I guess so.” Roman took a deep breath, letting it out in a sigh before sticking his hand out. “Goodbye, Virgil. I hope this isn’t the last time we see each other.”

 Virgil reached out and shook one of Roman’s fingers. “...Yeah.” Honestly, he was kind of hoping the same thing, even though he knew it couldn’t happen.

 “Bye, Roman.” And with that he climbed down the nightstand and ran back into the walls.

Roman laid back in his bed, staring out the window as the sky slowly faded between colors. He wondered if Virgil would be making another appearance tonight, or if he truly would succeed in rescuing Logan.

 Virgil made it to Patton’s bedroom about two hours later. He scanned the room, seeing that Patton was in bed and asleep. Grinning, Virgil got started on the hard climb up the desk without his hook. He managed though, and was able to pull himself up. 

 After another quick glance at Patton, Virgil was glad to see his hook still sitting on the desk. He grabbed it and did as before. Swinging it into the box and climbing inside. He saw Logan there, asleep. He went over and gently shook him. “Logan? Wake up.” He said quietly, hoping the human wouldn’t hear him.

“Wha-?” Logan let out a groan, blinking blearily. “Virgil!” Logan threw his arms around Virgil, exclaiming joyously. “You came!”

 “Shh!” Virgil hissed. “Yeah, of course I did. Now come on, before Patton wakes up.” He helped Logan to a stand.

“Oh, right.” Logan put a finger to his lips, leaning on Virgil heavily. “I apologize Virgil. I have been medicated.”

 Virgil paused. “Wait, what?” He held Logan’s weight, realizing he was acting way different than normal.

“I am getting better by getting worse.” Logan explained. “I have been given medicine, it makes me very sleepy and sedimantieated.”

 Virgil blinked. “Medicine did this to you?” Roman hadn’t said anything about this happening. “Okay, well, just hang in there. We gotta get going.” He led Logan over to the hook. “Can you climb?”

“I don’t- I think-” Logan paused, his face scrunching up. A moment later he released a large sneeze, the majority of which ended up in Virgil’s face.

 “Agh, gross!” Virgil wiped his face off with his sleeve but then froze when he heard the bed creak. Nothing happened for a moment and Virgil thought they were in the clear.

 But then the light turned on.

 “Logan?” A tired voice spoke. “You okay?” Patton looked into the box, eyes going wide when he saw, for the third time, Virgil.

 “...Crap.” Virgil muttered.

“Apologies for sneezing on you.” Logan muttered, wiping at his nose before hugging Virgil tighter like a child.

 Patton sighed and gently reached down, tearing Virgil away from Logan. “Hey! Let me go!” Patton shushed him gently and then nudged Logan back to his little nest to sleep.

 “Go back to sleep Logan, it’s okay.” Patton spoke softly.

“No, I want Virgil back.” Logan pouted, reaching up his arms. “I miss him. We can be safe together.”

 “I know but you’re sick. And you don’t want to get Virgil sick, right?” Patton asked. Virgil shifted in the grip, not believing he was caught a third time, what the heck!?

“He can have medicine as well.” Logan argued. “He will not get sick.”

 “I can’t give him medicine unless he’s already sick or he could get sick.” Patton explained. “Just get some rest, Lo. I’ll be right back.” He started to leave the room with Virgil but paused. “Actually….hold on.”

 Patton searched through his closest and Virgil was wondering what he was doing. He just wanted to go back to Roman already, when Patton pulled out another box. “Here we go!” Before Virgil knew it, he was placed inside the box. “Now you won’t be able to escape anymore.”

 Virgil grit his teeth but bit his tongue. It was useless fighting with Patton about this. He could just wait for Roman to take him out.

 Carrying the box, Patton made his way back up to Roman’s place and into his room. He gently opened the door, seeing that Roman was sound asleep. Not wanting to wake him, Patton set the box on the nightstand. “Goodnight, kiddo.” He said, before leaving.

 Virgil huffed. He waited until he heard the front door close before cupping his hands. “Roman!”

There was a loud shifting of blankets, but rather than waking up Roman began to snore.

 Virgil blinked. “Roman!” He said shouted again.

Once again, nothing but snores.

 “You have got to be kidding me.” Virgil said before collapsing onto his back. So Roman was asleep and not waking up anytime soon. Perfect. Looks like Virgil was trapped in this box until morning. And still, Patton had Logan. And had given some sort of weird medicine. What if it hurt Logan? Or kept him like that forever? Virgil bit his lip in worry. He’d have to ask Roman tomorrow and if the answer was what he feared he might very well need Roman’s help.

 He let out a small sigh and closed his eyes. But then his nose got itchy and he sneezed. Wait...oh no.No, no, please tell him he wasn’t getting sick. He was answered by another sneeze. It seems like Patton was right about one thing.

 Maybe if he slept it would go away. He closed his eyes again but sleep wasn’t coming. Only another sneeze. He groaned. It was going to be a long night.

[xsteriism]

Too Good to be Bad

Chapter Two: Love is brewing

by celestial-irondad

2, 028 words

2/?

click on the chapter title to read on ao3!!

——

Tony wakes up without a headache for the first time in a long while, feeling light and well-rested, and the usual body aches he has aren't there to make him regret all his life choices. He smiles unconsciously, stretching a little in the giant bed he’s in. Is this what actual sleep feels like? A whole eight hours of sleep? How long had he been asleep, anyway? Granted, he was knocked out by the powerful villain, but this was probably the best sleep he’s gotten in years.

He turns to find the sorcerer sitting in a rocking chair, reading a thick book with his cup of tea left forgotten on the table beside him. When the sorcerer feels Tony’s heavy gaze on him, he chuckles lightly, placing his book down gently and helps the billionaire to a sitting position.

“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty,” he speaks, voice low and sultry. Tony feels his cheeks heat up, smile turning uncharacteristically shy. Didn’t he use to be a playboy? Damn it, where did all his game fly off to? Where was it when he needed it?

They sit in silence for a while, before Tony realises he hasn’t greeted the person who gifted him the best sleep in years and without the need for sex as repayment. “Mornin’. How long have I been asleep?”

“A little over twelve hours,” comes the reply, along with a gentle pat to his head. “You must be hungry. I’ll be back in a minute with food.”

Before Tony can say anything, the sorcerer has left the room. The billionaire sits in stunned silence for all of two seconds before he’s snatching a pillow from beside him, burying his face and screaming into it. He hopes the sorcerer doesn’t have enhanced hearing, even with all the magic, because Tony will cry literal tears of embarrassment if the man hears his muffled squeals.

Tony will admit he’s not straight. He’s been with boys and girls alike— some really good-looking people, too. But, he doesn’t think he’s seen any one of such high calibre before. Stephen Strange’s looks, knowledge and magic are all top tier. He is the whole package and Tony isn’t sure how to feel at the thought of the villain taking such an immediate liking to him.

Him! Of all people! Tony Stark, an egotistical playboy who has no care for anyone but himself. Tony Stark, the evil billionaire who nearly destroyed the world, once. Tony Stark, the man who couldn’t be loved.

Even Steve Rogers said so.

“The only person you really fight for is yourself.”

“You better stop pretending to be a hero.”

If Mr Good and Righteous says he’s these things, then he must be those things, right? Who else is he? What else can he be?

But, oh. The sorcerer is really, really, really attractive. When Tony stepped into the room, the first thing he noticed was the sorcerer tied up, sitting on an uncomfortable wooden chair but somehow looking like he had risen from hell, burning ashes, flames and all— a magnificent being. Then, he spoke and by God was Tony sold. His voice was deep, a soft timbre that made Tony warm with all the good emotions he hadn’t felt in a long while.

Before he can gush more about the very no good, very bad villain who has kidnapped him, said person opens the bedroom door and walks in with a tray filled with an array of different types of breakfast food.

“Eat up, my darling,” the sorcerer says, smiling gently as he places the tray on the coffee table his neglected teacup was on. “We can’t have you going hungry, now can we?”

Blushing at the endearment, Tony gets up with the help of the sorcerer before a mini table appears before him.

“I wasn’t sure what types of egg you preferred, so I made them all,” he says as if making every single type of egg is a normal thing to do. “Don’t worry about food wastage, I’ll deal with it.”

Tony can’t help but compare the villain to his teammates. This man is the feared and ruthless Doctor Strange, but all he has done thus far was care for Tony. The villain had ensured he slept well, was fed and comfortable. Tony doesn’t think he’s met a nicer villain. His teammates, on the other hand, couldn’t care less about his health. The engineer tends to work for days on end without supervision sometimes, unaware of time passing if it wasn’t pointed out to him explicitly. His teammates would turn a blind eye to his unhealthy habits, only caring when they wanted something out of him. When that happened, someone would force their way into his lab, demanding he spent ‘quality time’ with the rest of the Avengers over dinner in the living room.

“How long have you been cooped up in this stuffy room?” Steve had once said, giving Tony that look of disappointment that nearly made him flinch. “Come up and have dinner with us, socialise for a while.”

And how could Tony refuse him? How could he refuse Captain America when he’s been told time and time again that he was the downfall of the Avengers even though realistically, he knew he wasn’t?

He quickly realised all they wanted from him was upgrades for their weapons and suit when he went to dine with them. Clint wanted sharper arrows and Steve wanted a lighter suit. The rest of the team hadn’t even been there, out eating on their own. Tony had wondered if his sole purpose on the team was to be their mechanic.

It didn’t help that Tony spent most of his life wondering if he was inadequate, incompetent, or… faulty. How could he not, with Howard nitpicking every single flaw he had? He tried his hardest to get Howard’s acknowledgement; from building his first circuit board to being accepted into MIT, Tony had given his everything to please Howard.

Not that it made any difference when his father hit him anyway.

But Stephen is different. A very good kind of different, the type of different Tony knows he needs. The man was careful with every action when it came to Tony, eyes gentle and hands soft. It doesn’t seem like they had only met a mere few hours ago. The way Stephen acts around Tony is as if he’s the only one in his life, someone to be cherished and loved.

Tony doesn’t know what to make of it. He also doesn’t know how the man got his name, but Tony isn’t a subtle character in their world, so it makes sense that he knows. Besides, if Tony had his resources to know about the villain, then Stephen would have his.

Within the next few days, both Stephen and Tony got comfortable around each other faster than either of them had expected. They even have a little daily routine of their own; Tony would be forced to wake in the morning, dragged to the kitchen by Stephen to have a proper breakfast before they would sit by each other in the library and do work. Then, the engineer would design new inventions he had in mind while the villain read his antique books quietly.

Even though Tony was kidnapped, he’s not feeling like a prisoner in the Sanctum Sanctorum. He has full reign of what he eats, when he eats, how he eats. He can do whatever he wants, whenever he wants. The only thing he doesn’t have control over is what time he wakes, but the sorcerer waking him up at the asscrack of dawn is… a good thing.

God knows how much his sleep schedule needs work. Maybe being kidnapped by the villain is the first step to get his life back to normal human functionality.

Although Tony wasn’t being tortured or anything of the like, it is disappointing when the Avengers still don't save him three weeks into his capture. Is he just a dispensable team member to the Avengers?

No matter. Tony can see how bad the Avengers are and if they can do without him, then he can do without them, as well. He is Tony Stark, a genius, billionaire, philanthropist. He is Iron Man, someone who has taken the Ten Rings down. Tony doesn’t need a few people, enhanced or not.

But it still hurt knowing he would never be on their priority list.

On the first day of the fourth week, Tony is awakened by alarms blaring throughout the Sanctum. The first thing he thinks of is, ‘who’s attacking New York this early in the morning?’

Then, when he rushes out into the main hall, where Stephen Strange already is, he finds the Avengers staring right back at them. Tony frowns, not expecting the Avengers to save him, expecting them to be happily living on with their lives without him. But before he can make a smart-ass quip about how the Sanctum is closed for the time being,

“Tony, let’s go back home,” Steve Rogers speaks, arms crossed over his chest, going for an intimidating kind of look, but Tony has seen it so many times he doesn’t feel the fear he used to anymore.

“Home?” Tony asks, huffing his disbelief at his words. “The Sanctum has been more of a home in three weeks than the compound ever had.”

“Stop being so difficult, Stark. Hurry, let’s destroy Strange’s base and go,” Clint voices his complaints, hands reaching for his arrows.

The villain steps in, hands glowing a scary green as he chuckles darkly. “I had let you all off the hook when I took Tony with me the other day and yet you still dare come into my personal space and threaten me. Do you all wish to die?”

“You all seem to care,” the sorcerer spits the word out as if it’s poison, “for Tony, but you take weeks to come ‘save’ him. From what he has told me, he is much better off here than wherever you reside, no matter how gorgeous it may be.”

Steve frowns, unfolding his arms. “Of course we care about Tony. We wouldn’t be here if we didn’t.”

Stephen doesn’t even bother to answer the captain, choosing instead to pull Tony away from the main hall, insulting the Avengers by indirectly telling them they weren’t formidable opponents. Tony is sure he looks confused when they teleport to the library, feeling very much lost. The sorcerer just smiles and cups his face gently, making Tony’s eyes flutter shut with the unexpected feeling.

“We shall not waste any more of our time and energy on them,” the villain declares, “they are not worthy.”

Tony smiles, eyes still closed. “I… I like you, Stephen.”

It’s the first time Tony’s calling Stephen by his name and he can hear the sharp breath Stephen inhales. He smiles wider, the warm feelings rushing back to him, feeling like a pubescent boy who had a crush.

“I know you’re a villain and I know I’m not,” Tony starts, opening his eyes slightly to see a starry-eyed villain. “But the feelings you give me… they don’t feel bad— you don’t make me feel bad.”

Stephen blinks, unsure if he had been complimented or not. Tony lets out a soft giggle that startles them both, speaking again, “normally, I don’t confess three weeks into knowing someone, but I…”

Tony is interrupted by a kiss.

It’s the first kiss he’s had in a very long while. Stephen holds Tony as if he’s fine china with his trembling hands and Tony can feel the way his lips are quivering as well. The smaller smiles through the kiss and presses closer, taking the bold step to deepen the kiss.

And honestly? Forget butterflies and fireworks. Tony’s feeling as if wildebeests are stampeding in his tummy and magical fairies are throwing their pixie dust on them like confetti. Their kiss is more than just magical and Tony can already tell he’ll be addicted to the sorcerer’s kisses.

Plus, they say pixie dust is known for making wishes come true.

Oh, yes, Tony thinks his wish is coming true.

——

hello my darlings!! chapter two is finally up after weeks of nothing. tbh, i wasn’t really feeling this chapter and i deleted a few (many) scenes from the final cut and i still dont know how to feel about this chapter.

pls gimme sum luv (like and comment!!!) bc i tried really hard on this 

also, i'm an irondad blog but here i am, using my 100th post for ironstrange

taglist: @funkylittlebidiot (bc you’re the inspiration for this post and i wasn’t sure if you wanted to be tagged or not) @jake-the-snake-from-state-farm @considering3000homicide @justpassingby007 @ragingstillness @el-rezet @the-fifth-marauder101 @marvels-blue-phoenix (because you’re almost always the first to like my fics and i see you and i love you) @officialtonystarkprotectionsquad (bc you always support me and i also love you) @technically-a-little-dragon (ily bby, i hope u enjoy this!!)