#but one remained a hero and recognized the path he could have walked

[drizztdonturden]

Wyll's Act 3 questline could have involved political scheming to threaten Gortash's hold on the city--instead of having Gortash just sit around twiddling his thumbs, his version of the Sarevok quest could have been to take out his political allies. It was right there. It would have given Wyll more involvement in Act 3, it would have made Gortash feel less lazy, and with the removal of the Upper City, they placed Lady Jannath in the Lower City anyway, where she's in the middle of a party. We were so close to having something like that.

everyone talks abt wanting an undercover high society/party mission in bg3... that should've been part of Wyll's questlines.

[nebbyy]

Hi! Could you please do a part two to the lester/apollo x reader fic you posted?

Apollo x reader - Eternal Bonds

A/N: thank you so much for your request, anon! Sorry if this took a bit more than the time I usually take to write my fics, but as I said the past weeks have been really tiring for me🥹 

Anyway, I hope you like this fic, I personally like it better than the first part, but as always let me know your thoughts on it<3

Aaaand as always, painting is "Springtime" by Pierre Auguste Cot for anyone interested!

Summary: Having regained his immortality and prestige, all that remained for Apollo was to stabilise something in his life was one thing: you. It might sound easy, but he honestly would disagree.

Warning: it is implied that Athena has a great admiration for reader, but they’re not their child. This reconnects with my own personal thoughts on how Athena’s cabin should work, so the goddess’ relationship with reader in this fic should be seen as the same as hers and Odysseus’ (if you want further explanations on what their dynamic was let me know:))) Also I must say, I haven’t read any of the trials of Apollo books in ages so I took it as an occasion to interpret Apollo’s return to Olympus how I see it more fit to this little scenario of mine.

And lastly, not a warning but this fic starts just a bit before the end of the first part, if anyone was wondering:)

Word count: 3813 (longest fic yet omgg)

Apollo stood there, standing on the elevator that would take him home. How strange, he had dreamed of this moment for months, eager to return to his home and be welcomed as a glorious hero, with restored dignity, free of the mortal shell in which he had been confined all this time. He had imagined himself proud, tall and triumphant as he entered the gates of Olympus.

Yet as he stood on his way home, he could not prevent the continuous movement of his foot against the elevator floor. There was no trace in him of the security typical of a hero, in him at that time reigned only the same anxiety and nervousness that had characterized his mortal form. First it was Apollo inside Lester’s body, now Apollo had his body back, but Lester was inside of him. That Lester had become an integral part of him? Or maybe it didn’t add up, maybe it was always there, unable to make its voice heard under the omnipresent spirit of Apollo.

Okay, maybe he was rambling, but he couldn’t help it when he felt like his nerves were about to make him explode!

The point was, he wasn’t just going home, he was going to convince his father, the king of the gods, the exact same person who kicked him out of Olympus, to make the love of his life immortal so that he could stay by his side for eternity. It was not a situation in which one could easily remain connected to reality.

Finally, the elevator slowed down its run, until it stopped completely and opened its doors with a characteristic "ding".

Slowly, one step at a time, Apollo stepped out of the elevator and advanced to the throne room, walking up the path that would take him directly there. His performance had an air of regal composure, but it was nothing more than a method of masking his tense nerves. He walked until he reached the first areas inhabited by the Olympians and some other immortal creature.

"Apollo? I didn’t know you were already back. We thought it would take you millennia to make it up to Zeus!!" He hadn’t heard it in a while, but there was no way he could ever forget the sound of Nike’s voice. The winged goddess came to meet him flying curiously, also attracting the attention of the entities that had not paid attention to the scene so far.

Some approached, recognizing the face of the beloved god, while others ran to announce his return to the major gods. First came Hestia, who with that loving family attitude, embraced him gently. "Oh Apollo, you were so good! I never doubted you could do it." 

"I can’t say that with as much confidence, but I must congratulate you, Apollo, you have exceeded all my expectations." It was the authoritarian voice of Athena who spoke, who wore a smile on her face, a more unique than rare event. Apollo was so surprised by this unusual compliment from her that he hardly paid any attention to her questioning his chances of success.

For a moment he felt his eyes almost come out of his skull when a large hand was planted on his shoulder to pat him. " Well done, little brother, aren’t you as soft as you look, eh?" Massaging his shoulder, Apollo smiled faintly at the mountain that was his half-brother. "Thanks, Ares, it means a lot I guess..."

He was about to receive the coup de grâce, if it were not for Aphrodite, unconscious of her intervention, she had put herself right in the middle, affectionately placing one hand on Apollo’s shoulder while the other not very secretly found place in that of Ares, to the delight of Hephaestus who observed snorting away from the scene, but thumbs up at the sun god to express his joy.

He didn’t know how long this lasted, or exactly how many gods surrounded him at that point, but when Nike was about to hold a banquet in his honor he couldn’t control his reaction: "No wait!" His tone sounded so panicked that he caught everyone unawares. For a moment the gods almost had the sensation of speaking a mortal, so much his voice had squeaked in the air. Realizing that he had drawn even more attention to you, as if it were even possible in that situation, he gently shrugged his shoulders, to mitigate the gaze of the Olympians his nerves more tense than ever.

"Um I-" he made a false cough to try to regain his posture before starting to speak again, illuminating his companions with a dazzling smile, "sorry, mortal’s pollen, am I right? Anyway, much as I would be... ecstatic to attend a banquet, I’m afraid I must first have a discussion with Zeus about some... matters of utmost urgency! If you’ll excuse me, now.”

With little pomp, he made his way through the crowd stunned at his unusual behavior. "Poor thing, the Earth has changed him." Someone shook their head resigned, someone else did not even notice his abrupt exit, simply saying goodbye and congratulating him as he got smaller and smaller in the distance. The attention to him lasted just before each god went for their merry way. After all, when you have a whole eternity to live, there are few things left for you for a long time.

Everyone resumed doing what they were doing before Apollo’s return, all except Athena. It was in her nature to predict the rival’s moves- or rather, the moves of anyone around her. She may not have been born with the ability to see the future, but her intellect allowed her to come to conclusions almost as apt as an oracle. Silent as night, he followed the solar god, whose aura seemed to be clouded by some heavy burden.

The closer he got to the heavy bronze doors of the throne room, the lighter his head felt, as if his brain had gone numb. He was mathematically certain that he had NEVER felt so nervous in his entire existence. Not even his many figures in human form could compare to how he was feeling at the time. But it’s not like he could back out now, not after all the way he’s come, not after promising you not to leave your side. Not now, that had arrived in front of the doors.

He didn’t even have to knock, or announce his own name. No use, Zeus was waiting for him. Apollo took a breath, pumping his chest to emulate some sense of confidence before making his way into the vast hall. Out of the corner of his eye, he looked around and looked at the empty thrones, each with small inlays reminiscent of its owner. He passed by his own throne, and a sense of longing pervaded him to the thought that in no time he would have sat there again. Maybe you could convince Zeus to put a similar throne for you next to his own..

No, stay focused, Apollo, first of all he had to convince Zeus to make them immortal in the first place.

Without even realizing it, he was so taken by his own thoughts, he had reached the end of the room, finding himself a few feet from the king of Olympus. Now he could not afford to show himself weak, fearful. Come on, it had to come easy for him, he was also the god of the theater after all! As if a thread pulled him from above, he felt himself erect tall and proud, his chest out, his muscular back straight; a slight halo of light surrounded him, reconferendogli a little of that shine that has always distinguished him from the rest of the gods. He smiled at his father before bowing down gracefully. "It’s good to see you again, Father."

“Apollo, I see it took you no time to get used to your old life once more. I trust you have learned your lesson.”

“Indeed, father. And I came here to thank you for it all. It was… better than I expected.” Zeus lifted a brow suspiciously, eyeing his son as if trying to make out what’s in his mind just by his appearance. “Mmh I hardly believe that you only came here to thank me for your punishment.” Okay, even if he had second thoughts, it was DEFINITELY too late to back out. Yet despite the seriousness of the situation, Apollo no longer felt the same anxiety that had accompanied him throughout the climb to Olympus. He felt powerful, confident in his words, in his actions, but above all confident in you. He knew that if ever there was a mortal worthy of immortality, it was most certainly you. He looked up at his father, this time his smile had become less dazzling, almost a little nervous.

“Heh, you’re not wrong, father. I came here to make a request.”

“Depends. What is it that you desire?”

“How do you make a demigod immortal?”

Total silence fell in the room. The expression of Zeus was intelligible, and not being able to read the true emotions of Apollo, moreover in such a silent environment did not help to calm his nervousness. Zeus slowly blinked, covering his icy eyes for a moment before opening them again as he breathed in just as slowly. " Few mortals have earned the gift of immortality throughout history. He must deserve that honor with out-of-the-ordinary feats," he paused, as if to reflect, then resumed speaking, in a neutral but glacial and authoritative tone, "this is not impossible, but I count on one bare hand how many times a mortal has been added to the abode of the immortals over the millennia."

"I am aware of this, Father, and that is precisely why I believe that the person I speak of is the most deserving of this honor." Zeus did not answer. Not immediately, at least. He seemed confused and intrigued at the same time, as if he had not expected such a response. " My son, what do you mean by that?" Apollo could not avoid the smile that spread on his face having an opportunity to talk about your countless qualities, which in his eyes were endless. It was one of his favorite activities even when he was mortal, actually.

"You see father, they are a demigod of qualities worthy only of an immortal god. They are strong and wise, although they are still at a young age. They fear nothing but the limits imposed by Olympus, which they have served since the day they set foot inside Camp Half-Blood."He took a little dramatic pause, perhaps expecting to be interrupted by the divine father, but he gave no sign of wanting to intervene in words; he preferred to remain silent, peering at his son while he justified his reasons for satisfying his will.

"And they are beautiful, Father. They shine with a beauty far beyond that of an ordinary mortal. Even on the battlefield, soiled with blood and filth of all kinds, their beauty always resembled that of Aphrodite and Eros and all the gods of all the Pantheons of this world who possess the gift of supreme beauty." To this the father could not suppress a snort of derision, not trusting the words of the son in fact of beauty, "If I remember well such words were spoken by you also for Hyacinth, and before him Daphne, and before her still such a long series of river nymphs and mortal beings that I lost count."

Apollo lowered his head in resignation, sighing gently before looking up to speak again, "I realize this, Father, but I mention their beauty only because it would be a crime against all that is right to omit. However, it remains only one of the many qualities that characterize them, which none of my past lovers can say. But that is not the greatest reason why I consider them worthy of immortality."

"Speak openly then, you know I don’t like to wait." The blond-haired god nodded and took another step towards the king of the gods, his eyes even brighter than before, inflamed by his longing desire to obtain what he most desired in his entire existence. You, at his side. Forever.

"You see, they have done a great service to the goddess of wisdom and the manual arts. They have done the will of Athena and have done such glorious deeds that they have increased her honor. I myself was able to attend only some of their quests, but I assure you that they were so great as to justify the support and blessing of a goddess so hardly affable." To these words, Zeus seemed completely incredulous. In Olympus it was well known that Athena was the beloved daughter of the king of the gods, who always kept her close to him and always made all her will an uncompromising law. It seemed impossible to him that any mortal had been able to win the favor of the goddess, and he strongly doubted the veracity of Apollo’s claim.

The young god opened his mouth to answer, but was interrupted by a voice echoing from behind him, "As much as the idea of supporting Apollo’s petty whims, this time I must agree with him." Athena had followed Apollo to the throne room, suspicious of his strange behavior. He had to be honest, Apollo literally had no idea what to say at that moment; he did not expect to get to that point with his interview and certainly did not expect Athena’s support in his intent. But this was a real blessing, for she herself could bear witness to your worth.

She only gave him a scowling look, like a silent admonition to avoid yelling at him, pick up your mouth from the ground and be a god, genius! But his silver eyes were enough to relay the message, and after a moment Apollo had returned to his usual divine bearing. She blinked slowly before turning her eyes again to Zeus.

"Y/N Y/L is a demigod of undeniable quality, which also left me pleasantly surprised. It is true, they have diligently served Olympus and have especially served me, and I have let them fight in my name precisely because their wit deserved such honor. If only it were possible, I would claim them as my own child, for only twice in my existence have I met two mortal men of equal virtue, and those mortals were the king of Ithaca and your son Hercules, to whom you rightly granted immortality.

You know that I do not speak in vain when I express my opinion, and that is why I consider them worthy to also obtain the gift of immortality, especially when to these incredibly successful quests are added the love of a god and the admiration of another." 

Now Zeus observed the two with two comically wide eyes, mostly due to the unexpected intervention of Athena. Even Apollo could not hide his amazement from that sudden help, but he certainly did not complain at all. Three beats passed, then Zeus cleared his voice and I speak in a more serene tone than before, though still authoritarian, "Very well, if you yourself, Athena, consider this mortal worthy of so many honors I want to believe you. Your lover will be granted immortality, Apollo. This will happen at sundown, when you bring your chariot back here to Olympus. Lead them with you, and they can live forever here with you."

"Yes!!" Apollo threw a fist in the air for joy, a small habit he had taken in his stay on earth, but soon after he realized that perhaps it was not quite the right place to give free rein to his happiness, judging by the unimpressed face of Zeus, "Um, I apologize. I thank you father, for this wonderful gift. I assure you that you will not regret it!" He slowly stepped back as he spoke to him with the biggest smile on his face, extending his arms and bending his knees in a farewell bow. Zeus, for the first time in what seemed like centuries, smiled at Apollo and nodded slightly.

"Enjoy this concession of mine, my son, and may it remain in your mind as your reward for having demonstrated your qualities, even without the intervention of your divinity."

"I’ll never forget it. They’ll never let me!" With some other ceremonious thanksgiving, which they had little given the haste and irrepressible joy of the sun god, Apollo rushed down to Olympus, hastening as much as possible to reach his beloved in the place where they had met. He looked at a clock to see how much time he had left. 7 P.M., he still had some time left. He ran like a madman, until he saw the entrance of the familiar Campo approaching. He ignored everyone around him, his perplexed children, his disappointed fangirls, his friends not too surprised to see him running like a bullet through the field, with the biggest smile they’d ever seen on him. Only Meg had a vague feeling about what exactly happened, but even if she did, she didn’t say anything and just looked at him smiling before going back to her things.

Apollo entered the forest next to the Camp and continued to run. Lucky he was back in his cool form, if he was still Lester would have collapsed out of breath for half an hour. And then finally, he finally arrived at your rendezvous point. She found you there, gently lying on moss, slumbering from the weariness of the activities at the Camp and from the worries you had freed yourself of the previous day, in that exact same place, when you had finally found your beloved. Apollo was quivering, thinking how you would react to the awakening, among the golden blankets of his heavenly palace. What would you have said seeing your body invigorated and illuminated by immortality. What would you have felt seeing that his declarations of eternal love were not fallacious, but promises that he had dedicated himself body and soul to keep.

He gently picked you up, taking care not to wake you. He invoked his golden chariot and rode with you to your new home. He kept you close, as much as he was physically allowed by the confined space. The journey did not last long, being facilitated by the godly transport; once arrived right in front of the golden gates of the Apollonian abode, he took you back in his bridal style, leading you to his- your bed. You were stretched out just as he saw your skin begin to shimmer gently, its color gradually became richer and filled with eternally vital sap. He stood by your side, filling your neck and shoulders with kisses as he crouched behind you, eagerly awaiting your rebirth as a deity.

In the morning you woke up with a strong light that dazzled you. You thought it was Apollo, who since he had returned to his true form had regained all the lustre of his nature. But no, it wasn’t him; it was you, whose skin emanated a faint light that bounced against the various gold inlays that were in the bedroom. Yeah, you didn’t remember falling asleep in a bed, the last thing you remembered was lying in the forest moss while you waited for Apollo. Wait a minute, this isn’t even a room in Camp Half-Blood! 

You did it to snap up to the alert, but then you stopped when you felt the familiar touch of Apollo caressing your shoulder, sliding towards the back of your neck and passing through your hair, which had been twice as long as the day before. Normally you would have yawned, but it didn’t seem physically possible to experience any fatigue in the state you were in. You felt... almighty. You finally turned your attention away from your body and turned it towards Apollo, who was already looking at you with a loveless look.

"Good morning, beautiful." You smiled though still confused by the situation you were in. Tempting your luck, you took a sigh and then you spoke, your melodic, honey-sweet voice even though you just woke up, "'Chicken, where are we?"

"We are in Olympus my dear. I promised you that I would not forget you, that I would love you forever. And I meant every single word I said, which is why I had a little conversation with Zeus earlier, and well... let’s just say with a little help I was able to convince him to give you immortality." He said it with the biggest and most satisfied smile I’d ever seen on him, and meanwhile he hugged you and held you and caressed you all over his body, as if to confirm himself that all this was true.

You were utterly speechless, incredulous at what this god had just done in the name of love for you, but at the same time you felt a warm feeling pervading you from within, filling you with joy and happiness, as if that of him had infected you like a disease. You held your hands to his face and laughed in disbelief and said, "You’re the biggest crazy idiot I’ve ever met, Lester!" 

He laughed with you, feeling pervaded by this joy that moved him from within, almost pushing him to tears by the power of these feelings. Holding you tighter, she stroked your silky soft hair as she chuckled happily, "I guess you’ll have to get used to the gold and clouds here." " Still better than a bunk bed to share in five."

Laughing together, you held each other so long as you had time, before he had to take off and lead the sun across the sky. Before he got on the golden chariot, he touched your face with his bronze hands and kissed you gently. " I still can’t believe I’m gonna be able to kiss these lips forever, Y/N." You smiled at him before you grabbed him by the shoulder to push him towards you, and kissed him again. " Then hurry up and leave, so you’ll be back soon and I’ll have a chance to convince you that everything is real." Winking at him, he laughed loudly and heartily, a more melodic sound than any lyre or flute.

"Then I shall not be long in returning to your arms, my lord" And so he departed towards the horizon, and you smiled as you watched him disappear into the sky, thinking with satisfaction of the world that will look up to him with longing and admiration, knowing that he will never again stop for anyone but you, once his daily duties are over. 

[cassieisinthebasementt]

Linked universe X Epic: the musical

Legend should have known something bad was coming from the moment he showed up. He should have been able to guess what was about to happen. When he showed up. 

They were in his own Hyrule, setting up camp after a battle with black blooded monsters. Legend had offered to find firewood. That’s when he showed up.

“Have you forgotten the lessons I taught you?”

Legend knew that voice.

“You.” He spit out the name like a bitter tasting fruit.

“Have you forgotten to turn off your heart?”

He appears. A child. A small, blonde, child in a green tunic. His eyes were fully red and his skin was paler than a ghost. Anyone could tell this was a spirit.

“This is not you.”

He slowly walks around him in a circle, 

“I see you changing from how I’ve designed you.”

The child is directly in front of Legend, pointing his finger at him.

“Have you forgotten your purpose?”

The child shifts from a kid to an adult, red blood seeps through the green tunic he is wearing. 

“Let me remind you.”

Legend could feel the ground beneath him giving in and letting him fall into the great abyss. When he lands, he lands next to another spirit, one who looks like Warriors with a red scarf.

“Spirit of heroes,”

“Master of war,”

He holds up a sword. Similar to the master sword, but very, very different.

“My life has one mission…”

The spirit thrusts the sword forward, and a path of heroes appears behind him. Legend recognizes a few. Sky, Four, Time, Wind, Twilight, himself, Hyrule, and Warriors. The rest he does not know.

“Create the greatest warrior~”

Above him, the sky cracks. Falling through those cracks were books.

 “I had a challenge, a test of skill,”

All those books flew together and created a silhouette of a familiar pig. 

Ganon.

“An accursed boar only the best could kill,”

Pages from the remaining books flew together and formed another silhouette.

Him.

Younger him to be more specific.

“One day a boy came for the thrill,”

It drew its sword…

“A boy whose mind rivaled the boar’s own will.”

…and thrust it skywards.

“Maybe one day he’ll follow me, and we’ll make a greater tomorrow,”

Legend watched the recreation of his first Ganon fight.

“Then they’ll see I know he’ll change the world, cause he is a warrior or the mind,”

It ended.

“Maybe one day I’ll reach him…”

“And we can build his skills as I teach him. If there’s a problem, he’ll have the answer,”

The books flew towards the cracks in the ceiling and mended them.

“He is a warrior of the mind~”

Shadows seeped from the ground; creating a forest. A young boy was running through that forest when he came to a halt.

“Show yourself, I know you're watching me, show yourself…”

“…”

“…I can see you?”

Another person appeared.

“How can you see through my spell?”

The young boy flinched and turned around, to where the other person was standing.

“Haha! I was lying, and you fell for my bluff! Hehehehe!”

Opposite from him, the person smirked and stepped towards him.

“Well done, enlighten me, what’s your name?”

“You first and maybe I’ll do the same.”

“Nice try, but two can play this game.”

He smirked back.

“Nah, don’t be modest, I know you're a spirit, so let’s be honest…”

“You are the heroes spirit,”

The man does not flinch. If he did not have as much control he would have.

“Badass in the arena, unmatched, witty, and king of, the best heroes we’ve seen,”

“If you're looking for a mentor, I’ll make sure your time’s well-spent.”

The boy does finger guns.

“Sounds like a plan, spirit and man, bestest of friends!”

“We’ll see where it ends,”

“Okay.”

Maybe one day they’ll follow me…

Legend sees the events of his other adventures.

And we’ll make a greater tomorrow…

Every moment

Then they’ll see I know we'll change the world 

Every victory 

Cause we are the warriors of the mind

Every loss

Maybe one day we’ll reach them 

And every end

And we can build their skills as we teach them

If there’s a problem we’ll have the answer 

We are the 

Warriors of the mind

Time returns to the present, and the hero's spirit is towering over Legend. He grips his shirt and tugs it towards his face.

“I still intend to make sure you don’t fall behind,”

The hero's spirit pushes him to the ground. 

“Don’t forget that you're a warrior of a very special kind.”

He points his sword skyward.

“You are a warrior of the mind.”

Legend is now standing back in the forest where he was instructed to collect firewood.

“Don’t disappoint me…”

A voice leaves that instruction in his head. Legend returns to camp.

“You good?” Wind, who is sitting on a log by the fire, glances up at Legend with concern. He was gone an awful while, long enough for Wild to forget that he was supposed to grab the firewood and gather some himself.

“I'm fine, sailor.” Wind didn’t buy that for a second, but he also didn’t want to push. So he didn’t. Everyone dug into dinner.

First watch was given to Legend. He volunteered for it as an excuse to not fall asleep. Their veteran did not want to take the risk of another godly encounter. That’s exactly why it’s his fault when a blue portal swallows their group and spits them out on an island in an unfamiliar land.

[wide-nose-and-wonderful]

SNOWFALL SEASON 1 Franklin.

Pairing: Franklin Saint x Black Fem Reader!

Warnings/Type: Established Relationship. Angst. Use of the n-word. Mention of incarceration.  Here is Part (2)

Summary: You’ve seen the worst parts of him and the best parts of him and vice versa. That’s why you made a good pair, but the recent knowledge of his new life path has torn you both apart. However when tragedy strikes, it might be the thing you need to take another look at the Franklin you fell in love with.   

Word count: 6,228k  / Comment and Like to show some love. It's oh so appreciated and encourages me to write more for ya'll! 

You opened the door and entered the small, cramped bedroom with a heavy sigh. Two windows, and a large orange rug in the middle of the floor. It was 1983 and the black prison population had risen 39 percent. Alice Walker had finally been recognized for her amazing writing, the goat face devil, known none other than President Ronald Reagan was in office, and Martin Luther King’s birthday became a federal holiday. To be real, you were still waiting for the day they would do the same for Malcom X. If you were given the option between the two leaders, Malcolm was always the easy choice. You looked around at the brown, outdated furniture, the thick, floral curtains, and the collection of dolls that had been passed down to you. A record player, piles of vinyl's, your favorite childhood teddy bear, and posters of bands and movies. 

That wasn’t all. 

Law books. Everywhere! 

There were so many law books that the public library would need to come to you for a check out. You took a few moments to soak it all in. They stacked high, one atop the other, and filled with information.You'd possibly taken every single book on the subject in all of South Central. There wasn't a place you hadn't visited to search for answers. 

You were dedicated. Determined. 

All the time you put in was worth it. All the sacrifices of fun you'd made to stay in and look for answers would make a difference in the end. That's what you kept telling yourself. This would all be worth it in the end. When it was all said and done, your big brother would be free to come back home and you would remain his hero.

You remembered all the long hours spent studying the different cases that had a similar flavor to what your brother’s had. Not a lawyer by any stretch of the word, but you knew how to read quite well and your comprehension, well, there was a reason that every report card you got in school read straight A's. So any time you and your mom had a meeting with Shelby Fleming, the public defender assigned to your brother's case, you were right there, ready with questions and suggestions. You couldn't recall how many times your mother had to tell you to shut up, but nonetheless Fleming appeared to take heed to your ramblings, at least a little. 

A little was enough for you. You could have very well been dismissed and not welcomed back, but you'd never missed a meeting. You figured it must be hard, a young black girl from the quote on quote hood, telling some white lawyer how to do his job better than he could. 

You remembered the last conversation you had with your brother. It was odd talking to him and being separated by a thick wall of glass. The entire experience left you unfulfilled each time you went back. 

‘Fuck this.You didn't do anything wrong. Imma get you out. I'll never stop fighting so you can come home Ronnie. Promise. Just, don't give up. This shit isn't hopeless.'

You remembered that particular visit. Ronnie had just received word that he'd lost his scholarship. Minor set back. He was smart, capable. He'd bounce back. Get another one.You were sure of that. 

You walked over to your bed, which was still made from the morning and ran your hand over the creamy, maroon bedspread, feeling the soft fabric beneath your fingers. You closed your eyes remembering the words, how he got on you for cursing in front of your mother. How he wanted you to control your anger and use all your frustration for something positive. 

He'd been having a hard time adjusting to that life, even after five months. More and more it weighed on him. You could see it in his face. That light you loved so much was beginning to dwindle. Everytime you came for a visit he had a fresh cut on him, busted lip, or a black eye that would make him look away ashamed. You never asked him about any of it, or pulled at him for information. You knew your brother wasn't a fighter. He just wasn't. 

He didn't need to be. Not for you. He would be someone else if he was. 

Ronnie wore big round glasses and carried a welcoming smile whenever he said hello and just like you, he loved books. He was pretty tall, and kinda thin, but he'd been everything you needed. He'd gotten himself a part time job at the library when he wasn't doing his college thing and always talked about how, ‘we need more black doctors. I know it's gonna take me a while, but I think that's the path I should be on.’ You supported him, even when times got tight. You believed in his dream, even to the point that you put college on the back burner. Ronnie had a scholarship, but that wouldn't be enough to take him all the way to the finish line. So you got a job to keep up things around the house, to support Ronnie. 

He was so good natured and driven. 

Your plans were but a small sacrifice for someone who deserved the world, but it was his good nature that had landed him in the last place you would have expected, federal prison. 

Ronnie always had a way of hanging with the wrong crowd, all because he wanted to help. Because he thought he could show folks a different way. You hated and loved that about him. It finally caught up to him, the good nature. He was looking at heavy time too. He wasn't the one with the gun, but he was there. And being there was just as bad. Even if he were trying to stop it. It was just as bad. 

‘Just tell them the truth. Do you want out of here!’ 

‘Politics ma. If I say anything I'm a dead man.’ 

You could hate your mother sometimes for the way she pressured Ronnie. Eventually he always gave into her whim. But she'd never been to prison. How would she know such advice could be detrimental? She wanted him back home just as bad as you did, but she lacked compassion. He had to always be a certain way for her, and that pissed you off more than you realized. 

To be fair, she did what she had to do to bring you up. To take care of the both of you. The family never had much, but you were never hungry, and the roof over your head caused you to shut down all your opinions about your mother and Ronnie's toxic relationship. He wasn't your father, although she expected him to be. The man of the house. 

You got up and moved over to the dresser, where you opened the top drawer and looked inside. There were some of her favorite things tucked away – an old pair of roller skates, a book of fairy tales, and a few pieces of jewelry. 

You pulled out the jewelry and held it up to the light. A very thin gold chain. A gift from Franklin. One of the few things that reminded you of the good times you’d shared with him. You sat the chain back in its place. Two weeks had felt more like two years. You still couldn’t believe it was over. But you also couldn’t believe what he’d gotten himself into either or tried to have you involved in off the simple fact that you were his girlfriend. With the news of Ronnie’s pending case you thought he’d be smarter. He knew everything you did. Upon explaining you hadn't missed one detail. 

'I'm not Ronnie. Alright? I know what I'm doin'.

For him to say some shit like that. Just thinking back on it pissed you off all over again. 

You threw a glance in the direction of the long full body mirror on your door. A pair of blue jeans, a yellow tank top, and your chunky gold hoop earrings, with your larger than life afro and brown skin. How many times had your mom and aunties tried to persuade you to get the hot comb run through? You declined every time. There had been this recent wave of perms and with the new commercials on TV, everybody and their mama, cousin, sister, homie lover friend was going for this look. 

You on the other hand had a thing for going against the grain. Standing out just because. Besides all that, you had a reputation to uphold. Sure it could be a lot to manage, but if Leon could do it. So could you. You'd both earned the nickname afro pick twins, by none other than Kevin, although you had the height advantage on Leon for days. A perm would totally kill that. You thought about the necklace again, how good it would look on you. How it would complete the outfit, your hair, even the carmex you applied. Tempted, you dug in the drawer for it and unclasped the back, setting it on your neck before locking the connected pieces and taking another look in the mirror. 

There it was. Complete. 

You sighed and took one last look at your book collection before you walked out of your bedroom and into the living room where your mother sat at the edge of the sofa. Her leg bounced up and down as she tapped the ash from her cigarette and proceeded to inhale the last bit of smoke in her lungs before putting it out completely. 

When she looked up at the clock, you looked too. The two of you had been waiting for the call. To hear back from Ronnies public defender. Good news. You just knew deep down it would be good news. He didn't deserve ten years. That was ridiculous. No, you were sure he'd get out in two, maybe even less for good behavior. 

‘I love you big brother. Stay strong and keep your head up in there, okay. I'll write. But I'll be here to see you next week too.’ 

‘Love you sis. See you next week.’ 

‘Ron don't forget. You're still my hero.’

‘You're still mine too.’ 

You had to be each other's hero after your father died. Your mother had detached herself. Became numb with grief, and it had been only you and Ronnie for a while. That only made the two of you grow closer. You needed each other. All of this was wrong in every sense of the word. This really was a case of the wrong place at the wrong time. Surely that little mishap could be forgiven with someone so promising. Ronnie had a lot to offer the world. So much that he could give.

You took in a deep breath and exhaled, shaking off the thought. Your stomach had been in knots the whole day waiting for the phone to ring. You'd barely eaten anything. You couldn't eat in fear that you would throw it all up with your nerves acting up, and you hated to throw up. 

"Hey. Go run to the store right quick and get me some more smokes." 

You immediately frowned. It was the first natural reaction your features could make out. A frown. Firstly you hated that your mom smoked. Cigarettes smelled like ass, and thus the fact that she didn't have the decency to smoke outside on the porch you smelled like a trash bucket by default. You rolled your eyes. 

"Can I go after the call ma?" 

"Look child, I am not in the mood. I asked you to do something.” She looked at you. “I don't need the attitude or back talk,” she said to emphasize her point. “Just go get my damn smokes." With a wave of her hand she turned her attention back to the television screen. Some beauty paget was on, and they were about to crown the winner. 

You stood up in a huff and walked over to her purse sitting on the table. You dug your hand inside and rummaged through her belongings. "How much can I take?" You asked, then pulled out her pocket book. 

"A twenty should be enough. Just go up the street to Cho’s. It’s closest." 

You stopped in your tracks, lifted your head with another sigh to follow. A quieter sigh so she wouldn’t hear it. 

Shit. You wanted so badly to protest. To argue why that was the worst suggestion, ever. To tell her that while the other store would take longer to get to, you would rather make that unnecessary trip then go up to Cho’s. You’d memorized his schedule ever since you two became a thing, mainly to plan time when you’d both be free to kick it, so you knew going between 5 and 6, there would be no avoiding running into him. 

You looked at the time and smacked your teeth as you made your way to the front door and slipped on your shoes. Your favorite green and white leather high-top sneakers. It was exactly 5:45PM.Yep. Franklin was absolutely at work, just barely starting his shift. You grabbed your small jacket and walked out, only halting briefly. “Alright. Be right back,” You called to your mom before shutting the door behind you and walking down the three steps that led to the sidewalk and down the walkway. 

The only thing that had made the breakup bearable was that you didn’t have to see him. You did a pretty good job of making yourself incognito when it mattered, and avoiding all the places he'd be on a regular basis. Really, you just needed time to wean yourself off. To get him out of your system. Then you’d be alright. Pretty soon you wouldn’t care at all where he was or if you'd run into him. You just wanted to get past the initial stage of separation. 

…

It didn't help that the first thing you heard when you stepped through the entrance doors of Cho's grocery store was Franklin's voice, and the first thing you saw was Melody Wright close by and laughing, probably at one of Franklin's stupid jokes. Damn Franklin, you moved on that fast, huh? You thought, and wondered why you had. Didn't he have a right to laugh with friends? After all you were the one that called for a breakup, not him. The laughter stopped and it was an all eyes on you stare down before you raised a hand and offered a quick wave as you passed by the chocolate bars and headed to the back. Some woman had come in behind you and walked in the opposite direction. For some reason you couldn't produce a regular ‘hi, how you doing, without it sounding condescending. Truth be told you'd wanted to avoid such an encounter. Damn your mom and her bad habits. 

"Hey Y/N, how you doin'? You can't say hi to a nigga now," Kevin called from the front with a chuckle. 

Boy, you could kick him right in the ass for putting a spotlight on you.

"I waved nigga, hell!" You shouted back, grabbing a bag of chips you liked before looking at the cold drinks behind the glass, doing everything to avoid Franklin's eyes. Good thing Kevin found that amusing, but you knew Franklin was still looking in your direction. There was this intensity with him that you didn't understand. All you knew was that you felt it. 

You heard that laugh again, and found yourself suddenly annoyed. 

Melody. 

You honestly didn't have a problem with her until the window incident that happened a month prior. To you she was nothing more than the girl next door. A young ass girl who liked your man, but absolutely no one to feel threatened by. You trusted him, and he'd never lied to you about anything, until now. The very point of betrayal you felt, was that Melody knew about the cocaine operation he had going before you did. Franklin had known her longer but you all grew up together. Not only that, you were his girl, that meant you should be the first to know no matter your reaction. You always had the better shot of being with him just based on your age alone. Plus you always felt you and Franklin were more compatible. You just got each other. You couldn't explain the chemistry. Why she thought she still had the right to climb through Franklin's window was beyond you. But she tried it. Needless to say she got what she deserved. Cissy wasn't home that day, and Franklin had all of a sudden gotten up from the couch and took you to his room. A man of few words, he'd pulled you in and started kissing you before he moved down to your neck. Then to your breast. Then to the button of your pants which he undid and removed, right before your panties were discarded. 

Damn, that boy had some soft lips. 

You snuck yourself a peek from over the rack of chips that provided you with good coverage from his view to look at them. You could hear Kevin and Leon talking, but your focus remained on Franklin. 

Damn, how you missed those lips. 

Clearing your throat you thought back to the surprise Melody got. Franklin on his knees below you, you at the edge of his bed. His face in-between your legs, eating you out like the nigga had been starved the day before. His long fingers wrapped around your thighs making sure you were held securely in place, and the best part about it was that he never looked up to acknowledge Melody's big head ass. Neither did you. Fuck it, you thought. Let her watch. But she didn't. You never saw a bitch move so fast. 

Now it was different. 

You were the one moving like a frightened rabbit, trying to avoid Franklin and his friends. Your friends. At Least once upon a time they were. But with Leon and Kevin being so close to Franklin, you figured you'd have to leave them all behind, like a package deal of sorts, to be fully through with the relationship. You wondered if they were all a part of it. The operation. Franklin was of course the leader. He just had the personality for it, but if not Kevin then alleast Leon's ass was involved someway somehow.

You shook your head. Whatever the situation was, it was all stupid to you. After all the cases you'd read in the collection of law books in your room, you knew that kinda life would only lead to destruction. On the one hand you wanted to thank him for thinking about you. He didn’t have to hand you two thick wods of money. But then on the other hand you knew you wouldn't feel right taking it. Especially since he wouldn’t tell you how he got it. That’s what kicked off the fight and ultimately led to you calling it quits. The way your voice traveled, you were sure Cissy was already suspicious. She didn’t know either, but you expected Franklin to be the one to reveal that truth to his mother, not you. You already knew you weren't built for it, which was why you'd broken it off. 

Cho's wasn't that big to begin with, and whether or not they were loud on purpose, you heard the conversation from where you stood at the back of the store looking at drinks you had no intention on purchasing. 

"Haha you stupid," Kevin joked. He must have been talking to Leon.  

"Well anyway nigga. We still gon hit up that new Eddie Murphy movie, Friday?" 

"Hell yeah. I'm down.” Melody chimed in. “Franklin, you going?"

You waited a minute to hear his response.

"Yeah. Looks like it's gonna be funny. Eddie is always a good time though so yeah. I’ll be there." 

You closed your eyes for a second and looked down once you opened them. You’d heard about the movie long before the breakup. Any Eddie Murphy film was a big deal. You were a big fan of the comedian turned actor. It had been something you’d both planned ahead of time. A date of sorts with just the two of you. Could you really be mad though? Was he not supposed to see the movie just because it would no longer be with you? The logic part of your brain gave you a hard, no. But your side built on full and pure emotion felt betrayed by him agreeing to go. Where the hell was your invite? 

"Okay. Well I'll see y'all. My daddy probably waitin' on me." She smiled at the guys, gave them a wave and walked out. 

"Bye Mel. See you," Franklin said right as the door closed behind her.

Leon stretched his arms and gave a long and drawn out yawn. "Yep Saint, I'm bout to dip too."

Kevin finished off whatever beverage he'd been sipping on. "Same. I gotta get up early tomorrow." 

Leon chuckled and tossed him a look. "Shit nigga and do what?"

Kevin tilted his head and chuckled as he threw away the empty can. "Yo mama. She been callin' I just ain't been pickin’ up."

Leon stopped laughing, which made Franklin grin and shake his head. 

“Man fuck you Kev. Don’t be talkin’ bout my mama.” 

You could hear them talking shit all the way out the door. You shook your head. A pair of fools, those two were. Now it was just you and Franklin, beside the occasional customers. Eventually you would have to go and pay for your items, unless you thought you could get away with a grocery store heist. 

You looked down at your hands.Things in each of them. Nothing but junk food, and you wondered if you would have enough for the cigarettes. 

When you made your way to the front there were two in line before you. Franklin occupied himself with ringing them up, but that didn't stop him from stealing glances. As the last customer grabbed her bag you moved up and took her place at the front. 

"Hey," Franklin said.

"Hey," you said back and placed everything on the counter. You hated that the smile you had was so faked, but again you couldn’t help it. You were a combination of so many emotions, you didn’t know which one to express at any given time. So much shit had been going on in your life lately that you couldn't stop your head from spinning. It didn’t help that you were avoiding making eye contact with him. Two weeks ago, and you would have stared into those motherfuckers for hours. 

"This it?" He took your things and began to scan them, a consistent beep after every slide of the barcode. His deep brown hues, rolling over you. Bearing into your soul even. Why was it that even the slightest glance of him reminded you of times when you were laid up in eachothers arms? How you both scrambled to get your clothes back on when you heard either of your mother's pulling up in the driveway depending on which house. You'd never gotten caught, thank God! You missed his arms. You missed being in them. 

"Yeah,” You nodded before you snapped back into the reality of why you were there in the first place.“Oh, wait and some smokes for my mama, please." You didn’t need to tell him which ones. He already knew. He’d been over the house enough times to get a mental picture. Besides that, this wasn’t the first time she’d sent you to grab her some. With that in mind you dug in your pocket for the twenty dollar bill. 

Franklin nodded and turned his back to you to reach up and grab a pack from the shelf behind him. This gave you the opportunity to look at him. Really look at him. 

You noticed his hair first. How it grew just shy an inch from the last time you saw it with the promise of a sprouting afro if he'd allow it. Then next his arms as he reached up for the certain brand she liked. You loved the color of his skin the most. A perfect completion. He wore a green T-shirt and dark wash blue jeans, so there was nothing extraordinary about his style, but boy oh boy, as simple as it was, did you love it. He was just well put together, in a way you couldn't explain. Franklin Saint was very much himself, in every sense of the word. He turned back around and scanned the cigarette pack, and your gaze departed from him as if it had never been there. You only looked at him briefly when he told you the total to hand him the twenty dollar bill, and once more when he gave you the change. He bagged everything up and held it out to you to take.You reached for it. Touched his hand by accident. Just that brief brush of warmth, and you knew you needed to leave. 

“Thank you,” you said, taking a step back.

"Y/N wait.” 

You paused and met his eyes. 

“I haven't seen you in two weeks. How you been?" 

You shrugged in hopes that someone would be behind you in line, but there was no one. You couldn't avoid the conversation even if you wanted to. 

"Been fine Franklin thank you for asking." 

He sighed and looked up at the ceiling briefly before he looked back at you. "Is there a reason why you're avoiding me?" 

"I'm not avoiding you.” You just so happen to say this without making eye contact. “What do you mean?" 

Franklin smirked. Had you forgotten how long y'all knew each other? He knew when you were on bullshit. 

"Come on. It's me. You can't even look me in the eye right now. Is that not avoiding me?"

Some kind of weird tension made its way to your shoulders. "Look Franklin, I just.” You sucked in air. You might as well just say it. Your body language had to be a dead giveaway at this point. “This isn't easy for me. Cause I won't lie. I wanna be with you.” You shook your head annoyed that you admitted it to him and shrugged your shoulders to make yourself feel better that you were actually being honest with yourself about the situation. Walking in and seeing Melody had a lot to do with that feeling. You didn't want to see him with another girl. Not Melody or anybody. “It ain't easy not to want that, despite everything."

"You think it is for me." 

You laughed. "Hm. Clearly. Looks like you didn't miss a beat. You with Melody now?" 

"Come on. Don't even do that. We're friends. Besides, Leon brought it up.” 

So he knew exactly what you were pissed about. The movie on Friday. The movie you'd already made plans for. 

“At first I wasn't going to but then I thought, shit why not. I wanna see Eddie. Laugh." 

You purse your lips and huff. Just another excuse. "Yeah. Whatever. Friends my ass Franklin.”

You took hold of your grocery bag and set your sights on the door. Franklin stopped you though. He'd leaned over the counter and grabbed your arm. 

“Wait, come on. Stay, let's talk, please." 

You shook your head. "Talk about what? We're done. There's nothing left to say.” You took a deep breath and with that turned to face him. “I can't do that. That life. That's too much on my heart. My brothers locked up. He might get ten years for something he didn't do.”

He had let go of your arm at this point. Finally, something you said caught his attention. Or at least he appeared to be consecrate in that respect to Ronnie's situation. 

You didn't stop there. You went on. 

“Then you. Can you imagine how much time you'd get for selling cocaine, Franklin? Cocaine!” You whispered as best you could through gritted teeth, but there was a hardness in your tone that said you still couldn't believe that he'd made such a choice for his life. “My God,” you added. “They wouldn't put you in the prison, they'd throw you the fuck under it.” Your emotions began to swell, you could feel the tears rising amidst the frustration. You knew no matter what you said, once Franklin made up his mind on something, it'd be like trying to move a mountain to change it. His stubbornness annoyed the shit outta you. At least one of his flaws which stuck out like a sore thumb. “You think I want that for you? You think my heart can take seeing you locked up like some fucking animal. Like my brother is right now.” It was probably all on deaf ears, nevertheless you said it anyway. You sniffed and looked straight ahead. “I feel so helpless. I hate going to that fuckin' place every week, but I can't not go cause he doesn't have anyone else but me that really gives a fuck about what he's really going through.” You thought about the visible signs of struggle on Ronnies face. The busted lip, all the cuts and bruises. “Truth be told. They're breaking him. That happy person he was. Yeah. That's gone now." 

You didn't notice when he walked around the counter. Only that he stood before you and wrapped his arms around you, which brought you to his chest. That familiar safe place. You didn't fight it. You eased into that comfort, cause heaven knew you needed it now more than ever. 

"I'm sorry," Franklin whispered. 

"I'm just tired,” you breathed out, taking in the scent of his cologne. “I've been trying for months to find some kinda loophole to help him in some way. But there's no way out.”

"It's gonna be okay. It's gonna all work out."

Your thoughts of Ronnie had shifted back to Franklin. 

"Just tell me why you feel like you gotta do this shit. Your handsome, your so fuckin' smart. You could be anything in the world and you chose to be a drug dealer?” You moved from his embrace, hearing him sigh as you wiped your eyes. “I don't understand. I don't fuckin understand that shit." 

The phone interrupted the explanation Franklin would give. You wanted so badly to hear what he would say. Would it be an excuse or the truth, and if it was the truth, could you even handle it?

“Give me one sec okay? I gotta get this.” His hand slid down your shoulders before they left you and you watched him hop over the counter and get the phone. You turned as the words Hello left Franklin’s lips and you found the round clock overhead. You hoped that your taking this time hadn’t made you miss the call you’d been waiting all day for. 

“Wow wow. Calm down. Just breathe. What happened?” 

Franklin’s tone had changed from casual to concerned at the drop of a dime and you found yourself curious to know who was on the other end of the line. 

“Yeah. She’s here. She’s right here.” 

You didn’t have time to study his face before he looked at you, calling your name to guid you over toward the phone. You didn't jump the counter, instead you walked through the swinging gate that separated you. Franklin removed the phone from his ear and you struggled to figure out what his eyes were trying to convey without him being able to say it with his words. “It’s your mama. She’s pretty upset.” He held out the phone in your direction. 

You didn’t know why your heart dropped, but it did like it was preparing you for something devastating without even hearing anything just yet. What was the worst news you could get? That you’d missed the call. That the public defender had told her they’d given your brother ten fucking years. Ten years just gone, stolen away. 

You swallowed down the lump in your throat and with a shaky hand you took the phone from Franklin. 

“Ma. Ma hello, what happened? What did Fleming say? They give him the max?” Your eyes already started to well up with tears again, content with that being the situation, and your lip began to quiver as you heard her scream out from the other end, He's dead. Ronnie is dead! They killed him! They killed him! My son, my baby! They killed him!" 

The last conversation you had with your brother didn’t seem like a goodbye at the time. But it was a goodbye. One you never even saw coming. 

You shook your head and dropped the phone, leaving your mother on the end of the line in hysterics repeating the same thing she’d said to you over and over. It was so loud that Franklin could hear her, and some people in the store that had walked in. You should go to her, you thought. You should be with her right this second, but you couldn't move from the spot where you stood. Your knees gave out, and you dropped to the floor stunned. Your mouth hung open void of speech or explanation for Franklin who was standing next to you looking at the phone that had the screams coming out from the other end, horrified. 

Pretty soon it became too much to breathe and you placed a hand over your chest and pulled in a bunch of fabric from your coat in hopes of catching it. It was like the air ran away from you.

Franklin hurried to your side. He understood what was happening even before you did. But he knew you, so that wasn’t a surprise. 

“Y/N. Hey. Come on, it's okay. Calm down. Calm down. You have to calm down.” 

But you were frozen until your lips blurted out, “They killed him, Franklin. My brother's dead!” You began to try and catch your breath. “They-” Your chest felt tighter and tighter. “I can’t, I c-can’t breathe.”

Franklin frantically searched through your pockets, both pants and coat, but it wasn’t there. 

“Baby hey." Frantic, he cupped your face with both hands before searching the pockets a second time. 

He must have understood the color change. The one that looked the same on everyone when they couldn't breathe. You wondered if your lips had gone blue. 

“Where is it? Where is your inhaler at?” 

You figured an asthma attack was a lot like drowning, but then, you would never know the exact difference. You’d never been in danger of drowning before. At Least not in water. 

“This was a pose to be quick. I didn’t b-bring i-t, frank, h-help me.” you could hear the disorientation of your words.You had begun to pull at his shirt, shooting yourself into a panic as you slipped a hand up around your neck clawing and struggling for any type of relief. 

“Fuck!” Franklin removed your grip on him, laid you on the ground and scrambled to his feet to reach for the phone. He hung up on your mother, picked it up again and dialed 911. He kept his eye on you hitting the top of the counter and pacing as if urging them to hurry the fuck up. 

"Uh, yeah hi. My name is Franklin Saint. I work at Cho's grocery store. Yeah. Uh. Yeah my girlfriend, she's havin' an asthma attack. She doesn't have her inhaler on her. Please. Help. She. Please just hurry. Send an ambulance!" 

Pretty soon you were lifted up. Arms were around you. You assumed they were Franklin's. You could hear his voice in the distance of your mind as an echo, but just barely. Encouraging you that help was on the way. To take deep breaths. Stay calm. 

Yeah. You were way past that. You were literally about to die!  

You forced yourself to turn your gaze on him as you wheezed. The struggle, slowing down, but not in a good way. Although your ears were ringing, and it felt like you were being crushed under a semi truck, you could hear Franklin even while his form began to blur out as your eyes clouded. There was such worry in his voice, such urgency to get you some assistance. Such care. You were sorry. Sorry that you ever said it was over, despite the choice he’d made. 

You wished you could tell him that. 

You closed your eyes instead.

…………………………………………………………..

Taglist:  @mysticalblackhottie @muvasuperior @megamindsecretlair @notapradagurl7

[homesickn]

Isn't bite also touch?

Chapter two, check chapter 3 here!

(Loki X Female demon!reader)

SUMMARY: Loki was saved by a demon and now the demon girl is attached to him like a cat is attached to catnip.

Is this trickery? Is this Devil lying to Loki to gift him punishment?

You were feeling overwhelmed. You didn't realize teaming yourself up (a thing you had only accepted in your head, you never confirmed it out loud to him) with an alien God would include being so close to human problems.

The problem was: the constant tracking, you could sense it everywhere. You were honestly starting to get quite paranoid. Any stranger staring for too long could be a spy.

The spell you put on both of you remained unspoken among you and Loki, although you suspected he could sense it too.

You were used to getting away from humans and their machines, but you've never once had to deal with the mightiest heroes all together in a constant attempt to find you. Cops were one thing, government was another, but secret organizations and superheroes were something you've never dealt with.

It was both overwhelming and exciting. The adrenaline of running from something new, but also pretty tiring, the silence among you and Loki wasn't helping all that. Plus, it was beginning to get a little awkward the more you walked.

“We should stay somewhere, for a bit.” you suggested, the two of you were beginning to guess you weren't going anywhere in your path, and the day was starting to set.

“You know I have a much better plan: you let me lead our destination, how about that?” Loki said, angrily kicking some rocks with his boots.

“And how will I know you're taking us somewhere safe?”

“Why do you want safety? We're in constant danger no matter what.” He had a point. 

“Well…” That made you still and look away for a little. “Where do you want to go?” 

Loki looked at you sternly as if the answer was most obvious, but as he opened his mouth to speak, he hesitated.

Asgard? Thor would know and they'd be found. What chance would he have if he decided to fight once again to gain Midgard for himself? 

“Do you still want Earth?” You asked. “It's a pretty big ambition, I'll say. I have power and I don't want to dominate this race, the humans they're…too… emotional.” 

“I don't care if they're emotional or not, which I reckon they are.” Loki agreed with you while choosing not to look in your eyes “However… I was born for this, being king. Having a kingdom and ruling it's basically my destined birthright, my glorious purpose.” He said the last three words with disdain, seemingly also lost in thought.

“Do you want to be king?” you looked at him excited. “Why didn't you just say so? I'll make you a kingdom to rule! I can create one myself,”

He looked at you oddly, analyzing your excitement, you weren't expecting this reaction from your statement but you didn't care. “Or maybe you want Asgard instead of Earth? That'll be more difficult, we'd have to get rid of the king they have.”

You didn't look at Loki while speaking and your eyes widened with multiple plans, turning back to finally look at his face. 

“Oh, that's your father isn't it? The king.”

“No, he's not-”

“I recall reading somewhere about the famous sons of Odin. Is he still king? We could get rid of him easily seeing as he's so old,” you mumbled the last sentence a bit to yourself but Loki heard.

“He's not my father.” He said but was still quiet, studying your way of dealing with things. Everything seemed so simple and the idea of 'getting rid of someone' to you carried no guilt.

“What is it?” You frowned in confusion. “Don't you want to?” You look down at your feet, “we don't need to kill him if that's not what you wish, I'll let you make the plan. Do you want to go right now?”

That made Loki go silent for some time to resonate with the options. He recognized this was your way of granting him the choice and giving him some of the freedom he complained about, in a way.

Loki was lost in thoughts of how to use it for his favor of course, with a being as powerful as you seemed to be, why not make use of the fact you're letting him be in control?

Loki didn't know you could perceive his deceitful intentions, you hid a smirk to yourself, watching his expressions.

He sighed and shared a look with you, “We could make a plan but not right now, I don't think we can step in Asgard today.” He concluded.

You watched the trees around you, having an idea. “Do you want me to pick? I could make us a temporary shelter for the night. I'll make it very cozy, for me, of course,” You analyzed the place around you, “You got all that 'the cold doesn't affect me' thing going on so I'll make myself a nice little fireplace to sleep close to.”

“Fireplace? Cozy shelter? I mean, really? Here goes me thinking you were going to keep me hostage on an alien planet I've never heard of.”

You look amused. “Is there an alien planet you haven't been to?” Now you're curious.

“Oh yes, multiples. I traveled a lot as a prince but never got the chance to meet them all. I thought you'd have a vast knowledge in astronomy given you're good at everything, as you said so yourself.” He teased you and you couldn't help but chuckle.

“No… actually, I've never been off Earth.” That's all he needed to know that you wanted to share.

It wasn't a lie, you were a demon and a master in the arts of Chaos. You had the experience of traveling to other dimensions, in which you've seen other gods, angels and creatures of any place. But, technically, this is your reality and you've never had the time to actually transfer yourself personally to space, any realm or planet. 

But he didn't need to know all that.

“Ok so, turn around!” You suddenly exclaimed to the confused god. 

“What? Why?” He asked, and he couldn't fathom why but did turn around.

With his back to you, you made sure he wasn't looking but he could sense your playfulness. “I seriously hope you won't attempt to murder me, it would certainly be very inconvenient. In addition… I'd win because I'm an immortal god, and then I'd need to hide your body-” he kept saying smugly at the end until you shushed him.

He opens his mouth ready to argue as he didn't accept being told to keep quiet, until you allowed him to turn his back again. He was about to do so anyway, with a finger pointed at you ready to give a possible threat.

But he stopped in his tracks and, still open-mouthed, he gasped quietly watching the sudden wooden cabin in front of him.

“Where did that come from?” his finger now pointed to the cabin in an extreme dramatic manner, his body leaning close to you, you couldn't help but laugh. 

“Ta-daaaaa!!” you playfully sang. “Hey, it's the power of magic!” you showed off a bit of the sparkles in your hands by moving your fingers in a weird dance. “What do you think? It's protected by my magic, so we can spend the night.”

Loki was still a bit astounded, and he had a lot of questions. However, looking at the cabin he couldn't help but push the questions aside, it was indeed very tempting, and they were restless. The god couldn't be blamed for he had been captured, rescued and now is running away all in the same day. His suspicions couldn't help but be overly flourished, for he didn't even know the little witch's intentions. 

Although he had a strong doubt witches were able to build cabins out of nothing, out of nowhere. He kept trying to understand but found no answers.

 He decided that maybe a restful night may actually be needed, and it wouldn't hurt, perhaps he could make a plan meanwhile.

They both got inside, and as promised it was the definition of comfort. The light was dimmed but matching the fire coming from the fireplace, making the place look all warm. He wasn't sure the woman knew he, in fact, enjoyed warmth.

“If it's too much for you, we can always clear the fire and I can make a…oh, what's it called?” you wondered for a second, “the thing the humans have…” you snapped your fingers in an attempt to remember the word, and furrowed your eyebrows.

Loki did too, confused and often questioning to himself what kind of being you were, “I haven't spent much time in the modern world but I believe you're talking about air-conditioners?”

“Yes!” you pointed at him excited, “yes, that's it! Do you want it?” he chuckled and took a while to answer you, looking amused.

“No, no. I'm alright, it's actually…nice, comfortable, I presume.” he looked around and then at you again. With a 'thank you' ready to be said, it was on the tip of his tongue ready to be pronounced.

But he couldn't, something inside him made him stop. Something told him he couldn't express that gratitude, it felt wrong to him, so he kept quiet after that.

You nodded, “Oh, it's nothing! I said I'd make it nice for the night!” you moved as if you knew the place, which he supposed was true due to you having brought everything up to existence with your bare hands. He made a mental reminder to maybe ask you in the future how you did that, what magic or spell you used.

Loki had his interdimensional pocket, he could conjure any object out of nowhere , that's for sure. Still, bringing a whole cabin with magic was completely new to him. 

You got some pillows from the upper floor as he explored around the place. He observed as you fluffed out the pillows and delicately placed them in a patterned circle on the floor, a spot in front of the fireplace. 

Grabbing the forgotten blanket that he conjured earlier from where you had left on the couch as you arrived, you made yourself comfortable and wore it around your shoulders once again, making it present like a sort of green cape. He appeared amused at the image, thinking to himself of his own cape — that he was not wearing at the moment.

You patted the rough wooden floor by your side and looked at him. “Come here, man.” you invited.

“Man?” he reaffirmed mischievously, trying to hide the slight offense, “you know I'm a god,” it sounded like a broken record at this point, “it'd do you well to refer to me properly.” 

You quirked an eyebrow. “I'm not afraid of gods, Your Majesty, why must you act so princely now?” you simply said, once again patting the place beside you. He sat down, you shared a look with him before asking. “Maybe you'd like to drink some wine? I could get us some.” 

“I believe you'd drink it too?” he questioned while not so subtly gazing at the mask you're wearing, and touching the area near his chin as a demonstration. “You'd have to take it off, you know.”

You smile under the mask, “yeah, I know. Better not.” you quite liked the mystery, and knowing how frustrated he got for not seeing your full face.

“Why? Are you ugly? Is there an outrageous mystery attached to your face? Because it only fuels my curiosity if there is… or could it be a midgardian sense of insecurity? I assure you, I'm beyond judging you for your appearance, if you're insecure, that is.” 

You know what he was trying to do, “Not gonna' work, Mischief.” you gave him a wink, “I'm not insecure…” for some reason those words sounded weirdly defensive, quieter, even for you, it made you cringe afterwards. 

“I'm not.” you reaffirmed more sternly now. Somehow making him more confused, but he didn't seem scared, he gave you a soft smile.

“I see. Then you're not. It's good to know.” His smile was still present and he held your gaze, “I guess that only leaves me with the belief that you must be frighteningly beautiful.” His voice was low as he said that, it made you doubt the fire's capacity of not making you shiver.

You couldn't grasp your head around why you felt relieved the God of Mischief was not afraid of you, but you were relieved, that was unquestionable, you felt it within every part of yourself. 

“Not like you're going to find out.” you moved a bit further from him, bending your body back and slowly getting up. He still gave the impression of delightment at your obvious embarrassed reaction, you rushed to the kitchen and checked through the cabinets responsible for the variable alcoholic options.

You took a bottle of red wine and awkwardly moved it on your hands, suddenly feeling too self-aware, not used to feeling like this. You placed the drink on top of the glass table and once again shrunk back in place. 

“You can drink if you want, I'm going to bed.” You hurried to the one of the two separate rooms on the top floor, leaving abruptly and making Loki's head fill with more doubts and— as much as he hated to admit—some worry. What if there is a serious explanation as to why you can't reveal yourself? 

And even if Loki wanted to get much into that line of thought he forced himself out and started inking a scheme to discover everything and, part of the plan involved, not caring about your feelings, if it happened to be personal. Loki had to remind himself that he didn't owe you anything, he didn't know why he was making such a huge deal of finding out about what your face looked like.

★

It wasn't often that you slept, it wasn't a much needed thing, but you liked to see it as a kind of treat. You just didn't realize how much of your powers you used today, it just happened that you fell asleep.

Not just the infuriating pain of the sensors you felt coming from around the cabin woke you up, but also someone's hand. At first you thought you might've been dreaming, however, the more some milliseconds passed, the hand was simply unmistakable.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” you exclaimed yet a bit groggily attempting to blink the sleep off your eyes, and also snapping his hands off your face. 

“I used a spell to ensure you'd be sleeping! I was just moving the mask, I just wanted to see…” He was exasperated and trying to explain himself.

“What?! Why would you think saying this makes things better? It is just creepy! AND, I am incredibly powerful, a simple spell doesn't work on me!” Honestly, with the multiple protection charms you've been casting he couldn't guess your powers would block any attempt he'd have of casting anything on you?

“Oh yes, I'm well aware. I just needed to try- Just so I can sleep at least…” 

You sighed and got off the bed, walking downstairs again, having him following you right behind. “Here's the thing…” He started to say.

“No, nope, no,” you massage your temple as you speak and open your eyes to notice something you didn't realize just a few minutes ago, he changed into more comfortable clothes for the night, just like you did. So now you're both ridiculously wearing pajamas.

You didn't mind it that much, you could also see it was somewhere around four in the morning. The sensory noises coming from the protection spell you put around the house now were beginning to grow insufferable. 

“See, I'll be honest, I just don't care,” he opened his arms to show more of himself as he spoke, and you could sense he lied, you don't think he'd be indifferent to your opinion of him, but maybe that's just what you think. “I admit I wanted to see what you look like. I don't understand what's so wrong about that.”

You shake your head once more and turn around to the fridge. The ridiculous all-black pajamas you're wearing are now making you feel very vulnerable, for some reason. You  get some milk out of the fridge and stare at the glass for a second.

“You're such a weird creature. I should've just stayed with the group of freaks, at least I wouldn't be dealing with you.” He said and dropped his arms to his sides in defeat.

You took a moment to think for yourself, the mask now was similar to a defensive shield whether you liked it or not, the mystery was something you could bask on even if momentaneous, even if not long-lasting . You knew he'd eventually see your face, you also knew you didn't plan going anywhere far from him by now. You were stronger than him with your capacities but he carried something you've never felt before, and his magic attracted you to him.

Maybe your actions were becoming a tad bit immature, you sighed tiredly. Watching him as he stared at the ceiling whilst laying on his back on the couch.

You poured the milk in the glass. And took the mask off to lift the glass to your thirsty lips, closing your eyes so you won't see if he's watching you. He is.

You gulp and swallow the liquid quite nervously sensing you're being observed, then put the glass down. There was no big scene, no dramatics, just a quiet moment and your true face, with the mask off.

And his eyes on you, speechless.

Again, with the nervous feeling, you began to grow a bit restless with all the staring. You cleaned your lips with the back of your hand hurriedly, and walked to place the glass in the sink, washing it manually. Doing the action by your own hands would make you, for a few seconds, stop thinking about his eyes on you.

“You're…” he gulped, sticking out his Adam's apple. "Beautiful." He finished quite dumbstruck, still processing your appearance.

You wouldn't say you were the stereotypical image of beauty, but you reckon your human features are always going to be attractive just the way they are. They carry your demonic nature, your demon soul is unmatchable in question of beauty. 

“I don't know why you didn't want me to see you. There's nothing horrific.” He said attempting to remain casual, still looking at you as if mesmerized. You liked it. He cleared his throat.

You turn around to face him, and let your mouth open a little. You can see the change in his microexpressions as soon as he notices, “oh,” He says. “Are those…fangs?” He seemed a bit surprised.

“Yes. Demon ones.”

“...Pardon ?”

To say Loki got scared immediately would be a lie, he was deep-settled in his superiority and massive knowledge on all " monsters " the realms could present. You got a little hurt by the use of the term "monster", and he'd never let his guard falter, he didn't want to act differently but you did notice a difference in his behavior towards you.

You don't know why, but you didn't want him to be afraid of you. It is amusing to feel the fear of others but somehow his fear is not as satisfying now, you were having troubles comprehending why.

After some time, you both spent the rest of the night in the living room in silence, the sun was beginning to set, somewhere around five and a half. Your feet dangling in distraction as you sat on top of the kitchen counter. 

And Loki was near a table on the other corner from you. Funny.  

You were starting to feel your stomach grumble in complaint, you decided to move to the fridge once again to finally eat. Now that you didn't have the mask to hide you everything was easier. 

You grabbed a raw piece of deer meat, the first thing you saw, and pressed your fingertips deep in the meat. Loki was looking at you now instead of the sun setting through the window, his eyebrows raised up, although he just assumed you were checking if the meat was good to be consumed, or in other words, cooked. 

He wasn't expecting you to sniff it and prepare to take a bite straight away.

“Wait! What are you doing?” He exclaimed loudly, causing you to flinch and stop before completing the action, “You can't possibly tell me you're going to eat this raw?” He sounded outraged. 

You were the one confused now, what was the problem with that?

“Do you have a problem with it?” 

“Why, yes! You…” He suddenly stopped and you couldn't decipher him for now, he gave you an odd look, and then shook his head, “you can't eat things raw, why don't you simply cook it?” 

He felt stupid interrupting all of a sudden, knowing you're a demon makes so much sense for your manners and the way you perceive things. He supposed that of course this was natural for you, to kill things, to eat anything in any way, cooked or raw. You wouldn't get sick or throw up by the action, not that he cared if you did.

That didn't mean that it would make him comfortable, the meat was still looking very white, and if he saw you crunching the very apparent bone of the animal he would most likely be the one throwing up in response.

“I don't cook.” You responded quickly, “I don't see the problem with it, makes it tastier when it has the cold touch of recent death.” Your eyes shined at the statement.

You were a very creepy little thing in his eyes. And to put creepy in the statement, he meant it. He rolled his eyes and looked back at the now almost totally visible sun presenting itself.

He turned to you again, you were close to the window, the sunshine was reflecting on you. He thought to himself that all of Hel's creatures are supposed to be magnificent and endearing, you did look like an angel at the moment. Maybe he shouldn't have asked you to take off the mask.

“I can cook,” he replied shortly, making sure not to look you in the eyes, “if you wish. I can show you how.”

The silence grew louder for a moment, you just stared at him, giving a very alien-like expression. Of course, it was wrong for him. The dead texture of the creature in your hands promptly made you feel self-conscious, your hands felt sticky now, dirty unlike his. You didn't know why that bothered you, not knowing why you wanted him to see you in a good light when you were a being of such darkness. 

“...Okay.” You quietly confirmed, he was relieved you accepted. It would make the awkwardness go away, he got the meat from your hands and went to work at the oven, pulling the pans, some ingredients and spices you couldn't identify.

That made you smile a little, he did everything so effortlessly, as if done a million times. You wondered how common it was for him to cook whilst he was raised in a castle, but you felt too embarrassed to ask. Every movement he made was that of royalty, that was how he always presented himself, yet you were in awe to see it was still present in something so simple as this seemed to be.

He might have become aimless at your constant staring, but you didn't mind, you actually enjoyed the tiny discomfort you caused on him.

And he certainly wasn't expecting you to put your head on his shoulders, a bit on your tippy-toes to catch his height. It was clearly an uncomfortable position for you to be in, at least he thought so, and although he didn't complain, his flinching in response was pretty visible.

You were relaxed, you didn't mind your muscles stretching to try and match his stature. You allowed yourself the pleasure of watching someone cook for you.

He hoped you wouldn't notice the awkwardness you left him feeling, but seeing as you didn't move to get away, he himself passed his hands on his shoulders delicately to brush you off him. 

★

Loki's relief at not having to experience watching you eat something raw in front of him didn't last very long, since you grabbed the still hot and recently prepared meat with your bare hands. Complaining with some whiny little 'ouch ouch ouch' and quickly changing the cooked piece to your other hand, scowling at the food in response, as if it horrendously offended you. 

The cutlery was just right in front of you, Loki thought it was so amusing he didn't care to stop. 

Your moment was interrupted by a bright light suddenly breaking through the windows, you hissed as it hit your vision. Loki quickly stepped up and stayed in position for attack, with his hands up in defense.

Your eyes widened when you saw that and you felt the need to help him. However before being able to, your vision faltered and you felt your body weakening until you finally hit the ground. 

If you like it, please leave a comment! ♡

[bakuliwrites]

Mirror, Story Two: Ventricles

Disclaimer: Post-Game Spoilers!!!!!!

Previous Story, Next Story

Rating: 18+ (MINORS DNI) for Eventual Smut

Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3

Relationship: Astarion x Tav (OC)

Chapter Summary: After a year of adventuring, Astarion and Orlando are back in Baldur's Gate, excited to begin their newest adventure: home ownership.

An anthology of short, post-game stories featuring Astarion and my Tav, Orlando.

Chapter Tags: BG3 SPOILERS, ACT 3 SPOILERS, domestic fluff, suggestive conversations, lots of banter, Astarion getting bit in the ass (and not in a sexy way, though that might happen in a future chapter)

Read here in this post or over on my AO3.

Astarion smooths his hand along the wall, creamy stones cool and uneven under his fingertips. His touch ripples along the seams between each one, bumping gently as he trails along the perimeter of the house. In the darkness, it glows like a lantern, warm light pooling on the grass from the diamond-paned windows. Astarion thinks back to over a year ago when the image of this house had first been presented to him, during the celebration after the defeat of the Netherbrain. At the time, it had seemed like a pipe dream. Neither he nor Orlando had much money to their names, and the thought of settling down seemed almost too good to be true. Unbeknownst to Astarion at the time, this little cottage on the outskirts of Baldur’s Gate was a gift to Orlando from her mother, who had received a sizable inheritance from the sale of their ancestral property. Who knew decaying estates with inert portals to the deep sea would be worth so much?

The cottage is perched on a low cliff overlooking an isolated cove, just beyond the city limits. A narrow, winding road leads up from the harbors of Baldur’s Gate and splits into three different paths. The property sits just off the southwestern-most of the three paths, private but only a ten minute walk from the city. Orlando surprised Astarion with the house a few days after the ceremony, once they had recovered from the raucous festivities. However, neither felt ready to settle down just yet. They dumped what few belongings they had with them there and set off on the road, itching for adventure. Though Astarion wonders if it wasn’t adventure they were looking for, but a means to escape the mounting pressure of being named Heroes of Baldur’s Gate. 

On the road, Astarion and Orlando were just two travelers of little to no renown. In the furthest reaches of Faerûn, they could venture forth in quiet anonymity for a while. A smattering of people here and there might have recognized them, but overall, they were left well alone. However, the exhaustion of travel got to them and the decision to settle down, at least for a little while, was made. It was back to Baldur’s Gate, where the hullabaloo had died down and they could walk the streets well-liked, but not fawned over (or sneered at, in the case of the few remaining Absolute supporters). 

As Astarion leisurely paces through the garden of his new abode, bathed in starlight and humming softly to himself, he feels awash with relief. Relief and a bit of apprehension. This will be the first time in over two-hundred years he’ll have a home. A real home. Somewhere he can feel stable and secure, safe and comfortable. And yet, this building does not yet feel like home. Nevermind the lack of furniture or the dusty, cobweb-riddled corners. The house, in all its newness, is a foreign body. A husk, aching to be filled with memory. But it brims with potential. With promise.

As Astarion passes the window that will soon belong to their bedroom, Orlando gives him a small wave, approaching the cloudy glass with some excitement. She struggles for a moment trying to tug at the rusty old deadbolt, but finally manages. With some help from Astarion, she pushes open the casement window, sending up a cloud of dust as the panes swing open.

“Sorry,” she laughs, which swiftly turns into a cough. The house sputters out years worth of abandonment in gray puffs, dousing Astarion and an overgrown rose bush that has certainly seen better days. He and Orlando wave their hands around to dispel the choking motes, scowling until the air clears. 

“Gods, it looks as if I’ve gone crawling in the dirt,” the Elf grouses, dusting off his now grubby shirtfront with the back of his hand. 

“You look like you’ve been crawling in the dirt? What must I look like then?” Orlando exclaims, tugging down the hem of her oversized work shirt to show off the sandy brown fruits of her sweeping labor. 

“Like the Princess of Dust and Cobwebs,” he teases, leaning in to steal a quick kiss. He feels her smile against him, soft lips feathering kisses at the corner of his mouth. When they separate, Orlando wears an impish smirk.

“And are you the Window-Cleaning Prince, come to rescue me from my tower?” she coos, batting her eyelashes in an almost mocking fashion. Astarion rolls his eyes.

“Hardly,” he scoffs, grabbing a cleaning cloth from where it was draped over his shoulder and whipping the air with a sharp crack, “Now close it, so I can clean it,” 

“Yes, sir,” Orlando returns, though her tone does not house a single ounce of actual obedience in it. She merely does as she is asked because she, herself, has work to get back to. Astarion chuckles alongside her as they each return to their cleaning duties. He watches Orlando from the window while he scrubs at glass stained with dirt and rainwater. She’s beaming to herself, happy as a clam as she removes the offending layers of dust from the bedroom hearth. He thinks about her excitement as they made their long journey back to Baldur’s Gate, the elation she felt at finally getting the opportunity to “nest,” as she put it. To make a home for the two of them. 

The two of us, Astarion repeats in his head, a thought that fills him with a quiet, fluttering joy. 

Out loud, they had dreamed of all the empty rooms they would fill with furniture, furniture they would get to pick out together. Astarion, in his imagination, leaned towards a gothic, ornate look with dark wood, crushed velvet, and shades of crimson or merlot. Orlando seemed satisfied with this aesthetic, though she requested the kitchen remain light with its already colorful tile backsplashes and touches of sage green, terracotta, and cream. A bit of a hodge-podge home, perhaps, but uniquely theirs. The time had come to start their interior design, but they needed to build up their savings again. For now, however, they were content with making do with what they had and imagining what could be. 

Astarion finishes up with the windows before returning inside to help Orlando unpack some of the various trinkets and talismans they’ve collected along their travels over the last year. He unwraps a vintage bottle of Elverquisst, gifted to them by Shadowheart when they met up with her on their way to visit Halsin, and stores it in the cellar until such special occasion warrants its consumption. He watches as Orlando carefully positions a crystal figurine in the shape of an octopus on one of the windowsills, a treasure that they may or may not have pilfered from a Goblin camp just outside Daggerford. A Githyanki greatsword hangs over the mantel, Lae’zel’s way of thanking them for helping her people. A sun catcher, either meant to be darkly humorous or perhaps an awkward attempt at consolement, hangs at the kitchen window.

“Who gave this to us?” Astarion questions with the raise of an eyebrow as he pulls the object out of a little velvet bag.

“I don’t know, honestly,” Orlando admits, gazing at the object, perplexed, “It was in our pack after Withers’ get together, with a little note addressed to you.”

He sighs, holding it up in front of his eye and peering through the prismatic crystal. Something about it screams Minsc to him, in which case, the gift is no doubt a clumsy attempt to make Astarion feel better about losing his ability to walk in the sun. He can practically hear Minsc proclaiming that this “magical item” is supposed to capture sunlight, perhaps allowing Astarion to temporarily wander out in the daytime.

“And what good would a suncatcher do for a vampire spawn?” Astarion sneers, testing its weight in his hand, about ready to toss it back into the crate he found it in. 

“You could thrash it around like a flail and whack people with it,” Orlando half-jokingly suggests, mimicking a swinging motion with her hand.

“Could do,” he muses, dragging a fingertip along one of the pointed edges, “It’s rather sharp, actually. Might even do a fair bit of damage.”

Should there ever be a home invasion, if he’s desperate enough, Astarion will snatch it from its resting place in the kitchen and make good use of it.

When all but a few of the crates have been unpacked and the night sky starts to lighten with the first threat of day, Astarion and Orlando adorn each window with thick, light blocking curtains. Satisfied that not a single sliver of light can pierce in or out of the house, they settle in for slumber sometime around dawn. In the heat of the morning, there’s no need for a fire in the hearth. But the discomfort of their thin bedroll, padded only by an ornate rug Wyll sent as a housewarming gift, has the two of them searching for softness and comfort. Weary from a night spent cleaning, Orlando promptly passes out in Astarion’s arms, snoring softly against the crook of his neck. Astarion follows not long after, falling into a deep, dreamless meditation.

Sometime around early afternoon, Astarion senses Orlando’s restlessness. He feels her slip from his grasp, taking special care to rearrange the blankets back over him. Her lips brush against his temple before her warmth is temporarily lost to him. Astarion’s eyelid briefly flutters open to catch a glimpse of the bioluminescent spots on Orlando’s back retreating in the darkness. A while later, he hears the front door open and close, but is far too exhausted to pay it any mind. He dreams of sitting on the porch, enjoying the rushing sound of the waves down below and feeling the gentle prickle of sunlight on his skin. Orlando sits at his side, fingers carding softly through his snowy curls, her lips tasting of sugar and lemon. 

A ruckus awakens Astarion later that evening. He jolts awake, joints aching, left arm asleep, and back ferociously sore. Orlando is nowhere to be found, at least not in the living room. And the terrible racket is only getting louder by the minute.

“Darling?” he calls out, groggily wandering from room to room, cradling his numb left arm. There is a brief moment where Astarion has half a mind to grab the suncatcher-turned-flail from the kitchen window. He and Orlando have just started to settle into this house and he’s not about to let intruders ruin the sanctity they are trying to create. His anxiety is quelled, however, when a moment later, Orlando’s voice calls out to him.

“In here!” she shouts from somewhere at the back of the house. Astarion fumes off to the bedroom, towards the source of the commotion, relieved he won’t have to defend his property, but irritated to have been so rudely awoken. What on earth could Orlando possibly be doing this early (or late, rather, given that it was well past sunset)?

“What in the nine hells-” Astarion begins, fully awake and incensed. However, upon entering the bedroom, Astarion is greeted by the sight of two rather burly looking Dragonborn carefully lifting a plush looking mattress onto a canopy bed. Orlando sits on the floor, hair up in a messy bun, fussing over the drape of the crimson bed skirt. Her beam upon seeing her beloved is enough to brighten the whole room and temporarily make Astarion forget about the ache in his body.

“Ta-da!” she enthusiastically greets, clambering to her feet and gesturing towards the newly assembled bed in the center of the room. Befuddled, Astarion blankly stares at the newest addition to their furniture- well, one of the only additions to their furniture. 

“Thank you, my friends,” he distantly hears Orlando twitter, forking over a hefty bag of coins and showing the two Dragonborn to the door.

“No problem, O,” one of them returns in a gruff yet jovial voice, “Say hi to your mom for us.”

“Will do! You’ll have to join us all for dinner sometime,” she returns, before the door falls shut and she traipses back to join Astarion in the bedroom. She closes the door behind her, an apprehensive look on her face.

“Do you like it?” she ventures quietly, hands clasped behind her back and tail hesitantly swishing against the floor, “I tried to find one I thought you’d like. If you don’t like it, we can return it!”

Astarion silently inspects the bed, inching closer and smoothing his palm along one of the sturdy, oak posters. The thick, velvet curtains, parted and held open with some gold tassel cords, are luxurious underneath his fingertips. He presses a palm against the mattress, testing its firmness. This bed is everything he has ever dreamed of, right down to its gothic, ostentatiousness. He feels his chest constrict, overwhelmed with emotion. Orlando bought him a bed. Bought him a bed that he actually likes. Went out of her way to pick one out that she thought he might appreciate. He can’t remember the last time someone did something like that for him. 

“Like it?” he dreamily starts, sidling over to the side of the bed he’d like to claim as his and flopping down onto the mattress. He bounces briefly before sinking into its heavenly plushness.

“Oh,” he groans, letting his eyelids flutter shut as he luxuriates in the comfort he wishes he had had last night, “It’s magnificent, my darling.”

“Oh, wonderful!” Orlando joyously cries, throwing herself down right beside Astarion, who turns to drape an arm over her. They’re eye to eye, centimeters apart, gazes searching.

“Where in all of Faerûn did you get the money for this?” he exclaims after a silent moment, flabbergasted, “And why couldn’t we have done this yesterday so my arm wouldn’t have to feel like it’s falling off?”

“Well, while you were busy cutting off the circulation to your extremities, I went into town to purchase a couple of necessities using the last of the money we made outside Candlekeep-“

“Money you made,” Astarion cuts in.

“We made,” Orlando emphasizes with a wicked little grin, “Helping that sweet old lady find her missing Gremishka.”

“The wound still stings, you know,” Astarion murmurs, gingerly rubbing his backside.

“Well, think of it this way,” Orlando begins, scooting closer and cupping his face. Astarion rests his hand on the small of her back and smirks as the Tiefling goes on, “Thanks to the small sacrifice your derriere made, we now have one of the nicest, most comfortable beds I could find at Fredweard’s Furniture and Upholstery. Reed and Aria, the owners of the shop, owed me a favor and agreed to help me assemble it. I was hoping it would be done before you got up.”

“Well, it is much appreciated, darling. I-“

Astarion pauses abruptly, casting a suspicious glance at a rather proud looking Orlando. 

“Did you say they helped you assemble it?” he questions, the bed frame creaking ever so slightly as he shifts his weight, “As in, you had a part in the assembly process?”

Astarion recalls Orlando’s insistence back when they visited Gale in Waterdeep, claiming that she knew how to properly reassemble a broken chair with a confidence that would’ve made Professor Dekarios himself look like a diffident neophyte. With a flick of her wrist and an unintelligible utterance, the chair pieced itself back together, only to collapse under poor Gale as soon as he set himself down in it. After several minutes of breathless laughter, Orlando went back to a more traditional method of mending. By the time she was done, she had it sturdier than when Gale bought it, though she vowed never to try to use magic to fix anything ever again. Though skilled in spells pertaining to the mind and the otherworldly, furniture mending is not Orlando’s magical strong suit. Though, she’s picked up enough building skills from her many years partnered with Gortash to make her a threat (albeit, only when it comes to small household items). 

“Mayhaps,” she drawls noncommittally, glancing demurely away, “Magic played no part in it this time. I promise!” 

“I just want to guarantee that I’m not going to be rudely awakened in the middle of my rest when the bed comes crashing down underneath me,” Astarion posits, somewhat jokingly. But only somewhat. Orlando gives an insistent reassurance that the bed will, indeed, hold together. 

“Jokes aside, darling,” Astarion begins after a bit more teasing, smoothing back some errant strands of her dark hair. Orlando’s eyes are bright when they meet his, curious and loving. 

“Thank you,” he whispers, leaning his forehead against hers and holding her close.

“I’m glad you like it,” she murmurs, voice muffled against him. They lay in one another’s embrace for a while, enjoying the softness of the mattress and each other’s company. This is not Astarion’s first real memory of home, post-Cazador. But it is his first memory of stability. Home has always been wherever he and Orlando are, so long as they are together. But life on the road, in the year after the defeat of the Absolute, was never stable. There was always a constant search for shelter, for food, for money. This house, however, feels solid, sturdy, and comforting. Though it is a work in progress, already in the first two days of living here, Astarion can feel it welcoming them. One day, this cottage will be alive with memory. These first few days are the spark, the strike of a match lighting a hearth. The slow trickle of blood into ventricles aching to burst into life.

“You know,” Orlando slowly starts after a little while, drawing back to look Astarion in the eye. Her gaze is dusky, cheeks dusted pink in the low candlelight, “I can think of a few activities that might test the mettle of this frame.” 

Astarion raises an eyebrow, an impish, lopsided smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. 

“Hmmm, perhaps we ought to test if your construction skills have improved,” he purrs, gently gripping Orlando by the back of the neck and swallowing up her laughter with a fervent kiss.

A/N: I wanted to do some dialogue and banter practice this chapter, which was lots of fun! I really enjoy writing domestic fluff and I don't do it nearly enough! Looking forward to writing some more in future chapters. Up next will finally be some smut. Breaking in the new bed and what not, of course. Thank you for reading! Lots of love &lt;3

[theskeletoninthegarden]

Since becoming an Eldritch Blade, a knight warlock empowered by the Devil Raphael, Tavrose has dedicated his life to hunting down monsters and eradicating their evils, one way or another. He's managed to build up a bit of a reputation for himself by the time the Mindflayer ship arrives, thieving him from Faerûn and setting him on a fast track towards a dark future...

Age: 40+; Race: Half-Drow, Tiefling; Pronouns: He/They Background: The Haunted One, Class: Eldritch Knight (+ Ranger), Family: Mother, [redacted]; Love Interest: Shadowheart, Astarion; Close Friends: Wyll, Karlach

Relationships:

Raphael: It may concern the reader to consider a relationship with any sort of Devil, handsome or no, desperate or no. But in the case of our hero we have perhaps discovered something...unusual. Raphael must think of Tavrose as some remarkable oddity: a child of [redacted], born of the Lady of Silver...there must have been some slight meant there. But it goes deeper still; why keep Tav alive for so long, on the off chance that something so remarkable should occur. The Devil must be laughing, now. All the same, Tavrose seems found of the Devil, his "old man", and that the Lord does not strike him down for such a term of endearment-- when there are so many other pawns on the playing board to manipulate-- must mean something...

Shadowheart: If Tavrose for a moment would consider the consequences before acting, perhaps Shadowheart would see the intellect in him. The capability. But, no, for every smile there are a dozen eye rolls, a thousand sighs, and, well, you understand. Still. For children of opposing sisters, they hold a considerable amount of deference to one another. If it were not for their Affliction, would the two have met? Would they have ever considered a partnership at all? We will never know. I think if it were not for Tavrose's [redacted] they could find equal footing in regards to further companionship. I believe Tavrose recognizes this, and that jarring reality is too great a thing to consider anything beyond wayward dreaming...

Astarion: There's a warning to be had about putting two sharp tongued bastards in one cage: they either slaughter each other, or break out, kill the jailer, raze the jail, conquer the entire tri-city area-. Tavrose is a shadow of cunning, Astarion the flashing blade hidden within. Both remain on the knife edge of almost certain corruption, and doom for anyone who dare cross their path in the wrong slant of light...but they find quiet in one another. Peace. Otherwise, Gods have Mercy to anyone who dares attempt to separate the two in a violent fashion... I think when considering their pasts, and the choices they will have to make along the road ahead, the two of them remain as the only peoples in the group who have been forced to make dance partners out of true Evil and survived it. If just. Due to this, I find it hard to believe that if one follows a certain path the other will not surely follow.

Wyll: Tavrose admires Wyll, what more is there to say? If Tavrose had remained the child of small magics, growing up on their mother's farm, they would have followed in the same path as the Blade of Frontiers. Considering the possible timeline, we may go far as to say that Wyll would have been inspired by Tavrose! But there is no denying that in this present that both individuals get along famously. Tavrose adores Wyll's unerring heart, his unprejudiced opinion, his natural flourish. Perhaps, if only, Tavrose did not look down upon themself so [redacted], they would also consider--but no. There is also the matter of a certain Devil uncle, ha! Imagine asking that one for Tavrose's hand in marriage. The scandal!

Lae'zel: A Githyanki and a Drow walk into a bar. Five minutes later, they are both ejected for fighting bloody half the clientele, and not a regret may be found... outside of being unable to finish the job. A Half-Drow Tiefling, and a Githyanki of the Abyss, both incredibly capable of warriors, utterly unmatched in a fight, including against one another. The two make excellent sparring partners in a way that is decidedly nasty, but when one or the other needs to let out a bit of aggression, to spill some blood, they know who to look for. They could make remarkable generals one day...

Karlach: Sometimes when a dark mind wallows down a dark path, they can sit with it and sulk, or they can have someone around to shake the laughter out of them. Karlach is the kin Tavrose could used when he [redacted], sadly he ended up with [redacted], and we all know how that turned out, hm? You could almost call them two sides of the same coin, a mere coincidence that they would be Tieflings, though they seem to take a certain amount of joy of liking each other to siblings...if sometimes for the sake of confusing ignorant assuming strangers. All the same, Karlach is unwilling to let Tavrose spiral, and she's proved to be a wonderful influence. Only, once again, Rapael continues to strain relations...

They pretty, your honor.

[panpanicatmha]

ask game -

it's pyjama day at ua. bkdk show up wearing the same subtly nerdy all might pyjamas. all might forces them to take a picture together at the end of the day, eventually becoming both of their lockscreens

OOOOOOOOO, interesting interesting

Pajama day for Class 1-A isn't anything unusual. After all, they see each other in the dorms wearing pajamas all the time. So, as per Mina's suggestion, they all show up to school in pajama day in hero-inspired pajamas.

Todoroki misunderstood the instructions and showed up to class wearing the Shoto pajamas that had come out earlier that summer. Kaminari showed up in Present Mic-inspired pajamas, even going as far as styling his hair similarly and poorly drawing on a mustache. Kirishima, naturally, showed up in Crimson Riot pajamas, giving everyone in class a Crimson Riot sticker. Where did he get them from (seeing as they're not official Crimson Riot merchandise)? Why does he have so many? How did they all fit in his pockets? Nobody knows. Shinso unknowingly matched with Kaminari in a way, showing up to class in Eraserhead-themed pajamas (a black turtleneck pajama and black sweatpants) and the dorm coffee kettle. When Katsuki walked into class, there was a collective sigh of defeat. Mina scolds him for not wearing a hero-inspired pajama, to which Katsuki responds with a "fuck off, Pinky." His pajama was one the class has seen every now and then: a black sleeveless tank top with striped pants, colored black, white, yellow, red, and blue. "Good morning everyone!" Everyone recognizes the voice instantly, heads snapping towards the door, wondering how far Izuku went with the-- The class collectively blinks twice. Izuku was wearing...Katsuki's pajama? "Deku-kun," Uraraka starts, breaking the silence. "Didn't you get the message in the group chat?" Izuku blinks twice, clearly confused. "Uh, yeah, I think so. It was about pajama day, right?" he asks, pulling out his phone. "Guys, I have a great idea. For pajama day tomorrow, how bout we all wear hero-inspired pajamas?" He glances up from his phone. "And then there's a bunch of people agreeing. Did I miss something?" Mina frowns. Izuku didn't miss anything in the group chat. "No, you didn't," Uraraka says. "I guess we're all just surprised that you didn't wear something that...stands out more." "Oh!" Izuku's eyes light up the way they usually do when he's about to talk about heroes. "This is official All Might merchandise, actually! It came out as a limited edition set last summer. There were only 25,000 of these sold in Japan. I almost wasn't able to get them!" Mina's eyes widen and snap towards Katsuki, whose face was glued to his phone, ears sporting a bright crimson flush. "Blasty! I didn't know you were such an All Might fanboy like Mido," she teases, wiggling her eyebrows when he makes eye contact with her. "You have it too, Kacchan?!" Izuku exclaims, rushing over towards him. "That's so cool, we're matching!" Katsuki doesn't meet Izuku's eyes for long. "Yeah, I guess," he mumbles out, fingers absently tapping at his desk. Before Izuku could say anything else, Aizawa walks into class and they all take their seats. Mina doesn't miss the way Katsuki's ears and neck remain a rosy hue for the rest of class, while Izuku keeps glancing over from the chalkboard to Katsuki's back, a soft, fond smile on his face.

----

When All Might shows up at the dorms to join the class for dinner (an almost weekly occurrence for the class), he asks to take pictures of everyone in their hero-inspired attire. Once he notices Izuku and Katsuki's unplanned coordination of outfits, he insists that they take a photo together (despite Izuku's flustered "there's no need!" and Katsuki's grumbles of "no fucking way" and "die"). Once All Might is about to leave, Izuku quietly approaches him and mumbles something to him. All Might smiles and nods, giving him a thumbs up. After All Might has started down the path to the faculty living quarters, he hears his name being called out. To his surprise, he finds Katsuki, whose hands are shoved deep into his pockets, shifting nervously back and forth. "How can I help you, young Bakugo?" he asks. After a moment of silence, Katsuki mumbles out his request. For a moment, it takes All Might by surprise, but he quickly flashes a grin and another thumbs up. "I'll be sure to have that sent to you tonight." Katsuki mutters out a "thank you" before hurrying back to the dorms. Ah, All Might muses. Young love.

----

That night, Izuku and Katsuki go to bed with new phone lockscreens, a warm fluttering filling both their chests as they drift off into sleep.

[glassartpeasants]

Happily Ever After

Tomura Shigaraki x F!Reader

Warnings: Smut, angst, death, degradation, blow jobs, rough sex maybe idk

A/N: I personally like this one more than I other two I recently did. I was also passing in and out of consciousness while writing this. Not edited cause I'm tired

~~~

Love can make you do crazy things.

Well, that's what your mother always taught you. Never let go of the person you love the most. Because sometimes you'll never know if they will leave you. Her words always stuck with you.

She would tell you stories about knights and princesses who got together to be married. All sorts of stories about where they would live happily ever after. You would always imagine when you would have your happily ever after. The image of having a wedding with the one you love while your father walks you down the aisle constantly replayed in your mind. Having a happily ever after was all you ever wanted!

So when you saw him on the news, you felt as if your heart was jumping out of your chest!

You don't know what made you fall so hard for him, but you didn't care! Was it the baby blue hair? Maybe was it his courage to attack UA? Or how strong the news claimed him to be? Perhaps it was how he managed to gather a group of other villains to go for his cost! You didn't know. All you knew was that you had to have him no matter the cost!

~~~

Being a villain was more difficult than you originally expected.

Sure, you knew that heroes would be after you, but you didn't realize that not all villains are friends with one another. You learned that the hard way after trying to talk to one of them for directions to the nearest gas station.

You couldn't believe how agile they were. You've never run so fast in your life after that. But thankfully, you made it to the gas station in time. They didn't dare come in here for some reason as they gave a look of horror before dashing off after you stepped into the building.

Confused, you just walked around the store to find things to eat. Knowing that when you were going to be a more recognized villain, you wouldn't be able to have the luxury of freely going into gas stations, Even with your quirk.

Your quirk was invisibility. You were able to turn invisible for about 3 hours every twelve hours. Your quirk took up a lot of your energy as you needed to be 100 percent focused when being invisible. If not, there was a chance that you could lose focus and turn visible again.

You heard the door to the gas station open by the sound of the ringing bell that followed suit. Figuring it was nothing, you proceeded to grab some food. Then the smell of burnt flesh hit your nose, and as soon as you were going to hop out of the aisle to see what it could be, a flash of blue flames flew right past you. You immediately knew who could be causing such a flame.

You peaked your head out of the aisle to see the criminal himself, his left arm still smoking. His eyes quickly caught yours before sending a blue fireball your way.

You ran out of the aisle and ducked your head, trying to remain calm and get your thoughts together so you could focus and use your quirk. Another fireball was thrown at you as you were about to turn invisible. Thankfully you ducked in time and ran into yet again another aisle.

You took a deep breath before closing your eyes and standing up. You looked down at your hands only to see nothing there. Mentally congratulating yourself, you slowly tiptoed towards the gas station door. There was smoke everywhere, along with the charred bodies of the people in the store before you. Most of them were innocent people.

Ever since you decided to go down this path of villainy, you never have actually killed anyone before. All you've been doing so far is petty crimes such as stealing, property damage, and an assault on a few assholes who wouldn't stop catcalling people. Seeing all these dead bodies was such a weird feeling, and you honestly didn't know how to describe it.

You couldn't focus on it too long, though. You were still trapped in a gas station with an A-ranked villain. You looked to the door and let out a silent sigh of relief. Freedom was so close that you could taste the fresh air.

"An invisibility quirk aye? Just to let you know it wore off sweetheart." You could feel yourself freeze.

Even if you were in love with his boss, you knew that they were still the highest-ranking villains in the country, and trying to be all buddy-buddy with them on first sighting was an excellent way to get you turned into ash.

"I'll admit, I'm a little impressed. Finally, someone who has actually has a bit of potential." You could hear the sound of his boots behind you before a strong arm grabbed your upper arm.

"Come on, I want you to meet someone." As soon as you were about to say something, the whole world suddenly went black.

~~~

You woke up in a chair in a freezing cold room. Only a small amount of light lit up the entire room making it almost to dark to see anything.

Moving your head from side to side you realized that you were practically stuck in said room. There were no windows at all, the walls were concrete and the door seemed to be closed.

"Ah, you're finally awake. took you long enough."

"What...where am I?"

"That doesn't matter at the moment. For I have someone that wants to talk to you." You hear the sound of a door closing before reopening again.

"So this is the girl you were talking about?" You knew that sound.

It was him!

You couldn't believe that you were truly hearing his voice in person! That and you would get to meet him! Just the thought of being in a room with him made you want to giggle like a school girl.

"Dabi please leave us. I'll talk to you once I'm done here and see if she's worthy."

"Whatever you say, boss man." You could hear him leaving the room, leaving Shigaraki and you alone.

"I looked into your profile just to see who you exactly were. A regular old civilian who accomplished nothing in her life before coming a petty criminal. Why? What made you change your mind?" Oh no. How were you supposed to tell him that he was the reason you went down this path without sounding like a total psycho! Maybe you could twist the truth a little bit? Saying that you thought what he said at USJ was the truth that the world wasn't ready to hear? That it opened up your eyes?

"I saw what happened between you and the USJ incident. While they were talking about what you said, it felt like a revolution to me. Realizing that we live in a society that cares about no one but themselves. If you aren't born with a 'heroic' quirk, you'd be tossed out onto the streets like you were nobody. As sappy as it sounds, that's the reason." You barely slipped in your love for him there but you hoped that twisting things around will do you in favor. You were so close to him that you could even see his red shoes in the dim light.

"Hm, I was expecting you to say something about that stupid hero killer Stain, but I'm pleasantly surprised that it's not." You raised your eyebrow at his words. Hero killer?

You left your home quickly after you saw him on the news. After that, you have barely ever seen the news. That and the newspaper. You were too afraid to get a phone for fear that the heroes would use it to find you.

"Hero killer? I don't know who that is, I haven't even looked at the news in a long time." He looked shocked at your words. You hoped it was the good kind of shock because it sounded like he didn't like Stain.

"Do you not have a phone as well? Have you not even seen the video?"

"No I haven't, the last news outlet thing I've seen was you at the USJ incident."

"That was months ago...how have you managed so far?"

"I'm always on the move so I guess I've just never had the time to look at the news. I try to stray away from the public eye and hero's since my quirk is not the best for fighting and close combat."

"Hmm, I see. But you do seem useful for sneak attacks and stuff like that. We have many close combat and far combat recruits. But we don't have anyone like you yet."

Like you? You could feel your toes curl in your shoes. Was he saying that you were special?! You struggled to not show your excitement.

"O-Oh really?"

"Yes. So I'm pretty sure you know where I'm getting at? We could really benefit from having you on our team."

"I'll join!"

Shigaraki was surprised how you didn't even need to be convinced. You were already so fast to want to join his cause. It was a little admirable but at the same time, a little suspicious. He'd have to keep a close eye on you just to make sure your not up to any fishy business.

"Okay then. Welcome to the League of Villians."

~~~

You couldn't wait till your first mission! You'd be able to be by Shigaraki the entire time and just watch him in real-time instead of on tv!

Every time you got close to Shigaraki, your whole body felt as if it were on fire! You would always get so hot and bothered every time he'd even look in your direction. You didn't understand how anyone could pass him up! He was beautiful in every way! You'd kill anyone that said otherwise!

It wasn't creepy to watch him from afar! Twice didn't know what he was talking about! You were simply learning what he likes and how he acts when he's not fighting the heroes!

You learned that his favorite food is! You learned that he loved video games. Especially the shooter-type games! Maybe if you bought one or stole one for him, maybe he'd want to hang out! So many things to learn about the leader now that he was finally in arms reach!

Did you know that you were absolutely terrible at sneaking? Or did he just know what was going on every single second of the day? He was taught to keep his ears open and listen to the slightest sound.

You sure liked to watch him. It was only raising his suspicion. First, you immediately agreed and now you're watching him like a hawk. He can see you peeking around the corner you know? He also didn't like how it would always be him that you were staring at. Maybe he should ask Dabi what he thinks is going on and what his suggestions are.

"Sounds like she has a thing for you crusty. I don't see how but that's the best guess I've got for you. Watching you like a hawk? Immediately agreeing to join the league? Definitely has a thing for you." Interesting. He has never had someone show interest in him before. While of course, it was a nice change in some parts, taking down hero society is the biggest thing in his life. If he wants to take this route, deciding will change the course on how he goes about destroying society and becoming king of the villains.

~~~

You'd like to think you did pretty well for your first 4 missions! You didn't lose focus not even a single time! You just had to remind yourself that you needed to do this for him! Let him see that you're worth it! Showing him that you were the perfect match for him!

While you guys were walking home from the last mission, Dabi had suggested that you guys should have a few drinks in the celebration that it was successful. Not one to turn down getting along with the rest of the league, you agreed and started talking to Toga about the mission.

Once you all got back to the league, Toga decided to go to bed since her part of the mission was a little more energy-draining than the rest of your guys. The rest of you cracked open a few bottles of whiskey and began to drink the night away.

Dabi passed out on the couch along with Twice. Only you and Shigaraki were left to drink the rest.

Looking at Shigaraki you couldn't help but feel your body become hot once again as the familiar love in your heart for him surfaced.

"Why are you staring at me?" His voice snapped you out of your thoughts as his red eyes meet yours.

"I just can't help it. Your so beautiful." It was too late to realize what you said before it was already out of your mouth. Maybe you shouldn't have downed that much alcohol. I guess it was too late to back out now.

"What?"

"Your just so beautiful It's always so hard to take my eyes off you. I could stare at you for hours and never get bored." You could feel the dopey smile on your face when you said those words. It felt as if your body was floating as you drunkenly confessed your love to him.

You stumbled your way closer to the seat he was sitting at and sat right next to him. He just still continued to stare at you with shock.

"I love you so much! There isn't anything that I wouldn't do for you!"

Shigaraki could see you rubbing your thighs together as you talked to him. Even talking to him or being anywhere near him got you off? You must be crazy if you loved him to that point. But Shigaraki won't lie. It's been a while since he's got any sort of action in the bedroom. Maybe one night wouldn't hurt. Plus after this, he can pretend like it never happened.

"You'd do anything for me?" His question made you feel all giddy inside as you shook your head yes.

"Okay then. Follow me." He got out of his chair and you both walked towards his room. You were finally going in! You've only watched from the outside and now you were going to get a really good like at what his room actually looked like!

It was a little dirtier than you imagined but that didn't bother you much! You noticed all types of games he had and what consoles he owned as well. Maybe sometime you should buy him a few!

You looked behind you and noticed him sit down on his bed. The covers were sprawled all over the bed along with some clothes at the end of the bed.

"Come here." Not one to disobey, you followed his orders.

"On your knees." You did so without a second thought. Was he gonna ask you to suck his dick? Oh, you sure hoped so! The thought of finally being able to touch his skin made your heart beat faster than it ever has before.

You saw him unbutton his pants and pull down his boxers a bit before his dick finally popped out. He was so much bigger than you imagined he would be!

"Suck." He didn't need to tell you twice! You quickly took him in your mouth while looking at him.

You started you pace out slowly just to get used to it. You wanted to be able to take him all in your mouth just to show him you were capable! You could feel every inch of his dick with your tongue.

You felt him grab the back of your head before pushing your head to take him all. You could feel him in your throat as your jaw was pushed to its limits.

He proceeded to grab a fist full of hair before using your head as his own personal fleshlight. Of course, you weren't complaining. If this meant he was feeling amazing, you would endure anything he wanted you to!

The feeling of him twitching in your mouth was the only warning you were given before you felt him shoot ropes of cum down your throat. When he pulled out of your mouth you coughed as you try and gain some air. His taste is still on your tongue as he pulls you to the bed.

"Now strip slut." You did what he asked and quickly took off your tank top along with your bra. You were about to take off your pants but Shigaraki dusted them before you could. That and your panties as well.

"You're taking too long." Now, hovering over you, you looked into his eyes even better. They were so beautiful and you would look into them forever if you could. His face made your cheeks hot as you finally got the best look at his face. Every scar told a story to you and it only showed how far he'd come.

You could feel his hands grab your thighs tightly with his pinkie up. His breath fanned across your face before scooting even closer towards you. His body between your legs as you could feel yourself becoming wetter by the mere second.

Shigaraki grabbed his pants before throwing them off to an unknown corner of the room. His boxers went down to mid-thigh. Was this finally happening? Would you finally be able to feel him inside you after imagining it for so long?

You could feel him rub the head of his cock against your cunt. You bucked your hips trying to get more friction only for them to be slammed down by strong hands.

"Beg."

"Please! I'll do anything! I just want to feel you inside me! I want you to fuck me until I can't even thing straight! Please Shigaraki-" You let out a gasp for air when he harshly shoved his cock into your cunt.

He was so big you swore he was going to spilt you in two! He always managed to fit all of it inside you with each harsh thrust. You loved how harsh he was with you! How he pounded into your cunt like his life depended on it.

You wrapped your legs around his waist and dug your nails into his back. You were determined to leave something on him. To prove that you were the one who made him feel this way!

The feeling of you becoming undone as you tightened around him caused both of you guys to let out a moan. The feeling of him pounding against that spot inside of you finally turned you over the edge as you dug your nails into his back, leaving deep scratches.

He was gripping your thighs so tightly that you swore that you'd have bruises for days afterward. You didn't mind though. Waking up in the morning only to see the bruises he would leave on your hips would be the best gift anyone has ever given you!

You could hear him panting before his hips stuttered and he stilled inside you. His cum filled up your entire cunt and leaked out when he left your hole.

You were smiling ear to ear. This could be the start of those fairytales your mother told you about! You would be able to live happily ever after with your villainous prince!

You were dragged out of your thoughts when you felt a hand clasp around your throat. Was he into choking? That's okay! He could try anything on you and you wouldn't say a word! You looked into his eyes but instead of seeing the lustful ones you saw moments prior, they looked to be conflicted before sadness quickly replaced it before going emotionless.

His grip on your throat tightened as he let out a sigh.

"I'm sorry my dear, maybe in another life, we could be together. But for now, I can't have someone in my way. I hope you understand." You didn't understand what was going on before you felt all his fingers placed against your throat.

An unspeakable pain surged through your body as you tried to scream in pain only for it to be silenced as his decay took over your body. Your eyes could only focus on your body as it decayed away.

You didn't understand. You did everything right? You played by the rules, you broke the rules, all to be with him. You cheered him on from afar! You were the one who did whatever he asked without a second thought!

He took away your life after showing him all the love you had to give. So why did it not work out? Why, after all of this, is the way you go out? What did you do to deserve this?

You could feel painful tears stream down your face before you let out a last pained gasp before your whole world turned dark. How humiliating to go out in such a way. It wasn't fair. Everyone got their happily ever after,

so why couldn't you?

[strawwritesfic]

Steve Rogers x Reader: Enlightened

Summary: The ending of one story only leads into the beginning of another.

Rating/Warnings/Tags: T (cemeteries; funerals; grief; mourning; Man Out Of Time!Steve; post-Avengers (2012); pre-Captain America: The Winter Soldier; mild language; Dugan!Reader; meet-cute)

Challenge: "120 Bits of Random" challenge by SugarLandBabyGirl on Lunaescence Archives.

Tag List: @imaginesfire​

Enlightened

Another day, another graveyard, another difficult-to-sit-through ceremony. Steve might have missed most of his old friends’ funerals while he slept under several feet of snow and ice, but he was making up a lot of lost time now. It felt to him as though not a single weekend passed that didn’t find him driving his motorcycle somewhere in the continental U.S. to visit the tombstone of someone he had known once upon a different time.

He could have–should have–taken the opportunity to properly mourn those he had lost, but he was far too busy. After all the pomp and circumstance wrapped up, reporters thronged around him, ignoring the true hero newly buried in order to ask Steve questions.  Then there were family members that wanted to express gratitude for what he had done seventy years ago (or anger at the crowd of reporters that followed him like a cloud of flies), and onlookers that requested autographs. No matter what someone wanted, Steve didn’t know how to refuse. He often remained at the cemetery long after he was schedule to be there.

He didn’t think that night would be any different. Frantic for some alone time, he waved off his few hangers-on. The distant sounds of car doors slamming and limousines driving away filled the air as Steve walked slowly through the trees in a winding path he could barely see through the orange light of sunset.

It pained him to think that he should have been buried there, too. He was starting to get used to living seventy years after he’d last been awake, but visiting his past didn’t help him with accepting his own continued existence. Fury said Steve could be a massive asset in the present day; after the Battle of New York, Steve couldn’t deny that. 

But he also could not deny that he missed the Howling Commandoes more than he could articulate to anyone he knew. Clint would try to sympathize. Tony would probably laugh. Natasha would listen, then promptly sign Steve up for a month of psychiatry evaluations. None of that sounded appealing, so Steve kept his feelings to himself.

As he mulled over his continued loneliness, he heard sniffling. He came to a halt beside the grave he had come to visit that very day. No one was there. A few  seconds later, he heard the noise again. Someone was definitely crying in the near vicinity.

“Hello?” he called into the little alcove of bushes nearby. “Is anyone there? Are you okay?”

Someone out of sight whispered “shit.” Before he could hastily try to patch the awkward moment over, a person he didn’t recognize wandered out of the shadows, red-eyed and looking sheepish. 

Steve wracked his brains as the two of you stared at each other, but no. He truly couldn’t remember seeing you anywhere before. Were you there for a burial being done elsewhere on the grounds? Had he interrupted your mourning? 

You smiled into the awkward silence. “Hi.”

“Hi.” Steve frowned. “Are you all right? Are you lost? There’s nothing going around here anymore. I can help you find your way back, if you want.”

Your smile grew a little wider, more genuine, but altogether you looked even sadder than when you’d first stumbled into the open. “No, I’m in the right place. I came to say goodbye to my grandpa.”

“Your–” Steve glanced at the tombstone than back to you.

“Yeah. Timothy ‘Dum-Dum’ Dugan. He was a good man.”

“I know. I worked with him back during World War II.”

“You worked with–” Your mouth fell open. “But that means–you must be…”

“Captain Steve Rogers,” said Steve. He offered you a hand, and you took it.

“Wow,” you breathed. “Grandpa always said the sun shone out of your ass. Never stopped talking about how great you were, or what a shame it was they lost you.”

“Not too big a shame. They won the war just fine without me.”

“I think it was more you they missed than all the heroics. Grandpa only died two weeks ago,” you added in a quieter voice. “He kept saying you’d get around to visiting him sooner or later.”

“I–”

“Don’t apologize. He understood you were busy. After everything that happened in New York, it’s nice that you made time to come all the way out here to see him off. I’m [F Name] [L Name], by the way.”

“Nice to meet you,” said Steve.

You wandered past him to give the gravestone a pat. Another few sniffles punctuated the silence. Steve wondered if you didn’t mean for him to slip off silently while your back was turned. Unsure, he loitered there until you turned to face him again.

“Well,” you tried to laugh the word, but it came out wet, “I’ll let you get back to your hero stuff. Sorry I interrupted.”

Steve nodded. After a last wipe of your sleeve across your eyes, you flashed him a final grin before you wandered back up the path. 

Silence rang in the air once you walked away. Steve looked from the name engraved in front of him, to your rapidly-disappearing silhouette, back again, and back once more. Only then did it occur to him that the past wasn’t completely gone. It still existed in relics, in those who had known his old friends...

...but one of those people would soon be exiting Steve’s life as quickly as they had come into it.

“[Name]!” he called, rushing after you. 

You paused and looked over your shoulder at him. 

“Do you want to go to dinner? We could talk about your grandfather. And anything else that might come to mind.”

Slowly, another, warmer smile spread across your face. “I’d love that.”

[redorich]

A favorite trope of mine has always been- getting to see another person’s past. Is it some kind of judgment thing by a higher power? Something like Freeze Day from SCTFOE? Person trapped in a nightmare and their nightmare is being projected? Who knows. All that’s important is after months of healing, some of the Hermits get to see exactly what Tommy went through. It shows short clips of him before being happy, the rise and fall of Manburg, Wilbur going insane, the festival, the withers, all of it. Just short clips of these things though. The last clip of the SMP is just Dream’s mask outlined by his green hood saying, “you’ll stay here alone with just me until you learn to be quite and respectful and not fight those who are in power over you. Even if you have to stay out here *forever*.”

This turned into a whole drabble smh xD

((btw @give-grian-rights helped me so thank you))

-------

The remaining hermits aren’t sure what happened. They have no way of knowing. There was a witch involved, Cub thinks, but what their fallen friends must have done to piss her off to the point of getting cursed is beyond their ken. Among those laid out are Cleo, Grian, Xisuma, Zedaph, and Tommy.

Scar and Cub work their Vex magic together to figure out that their friends are trapped in their worst memories. (Etho calls it a Demonic Hell Viewing Illusion, and False smacks him upside the head for the Naruto reference.) Holding hands with a victim pulls you in, but that’s what they’re counting on. Joe’s already wading through Cleo’s nightmare before anyone gets the chance to ask, and Impulse and Tango aren’t far behind doing the same for Zedaph. However, it doesn’t work for Grian, Xisuma, and Tommy; they were found already holding hands. They must have figured something out about the curse before they succumbed to it. All the hermits can do for them, for the time being, is hope.

Tommy, Grian, and Xisuma wake to the smell of sulphur and smoke. The ground is orange and littered with bullets. Grian grabs Tommy’s hand, and Xisuma grabs a discarded rifle. Tommy points his finger up at the top of a mound of scrap metal and dead bodies. There’s a nether portal, except the obsidian is whiter than quartz. That's where they have to go to get out of here.

All around them, demons lurch and shriek and hiss and all sorts of unholy behavior, bodily flinging themselves at the trio as though they know none of them can take the men on their own, and that just by dogpiling them all one of them will get lucky. Xisuma instantly snaps into a professional mode, the way he sometimes does when he's killing zombies but they keep social spawning. He takes up the lead with machine gun fire and grenades, carving a path through the crowd. Grian takes up the rear with a handgun. Neither Xisuma nor Tommy ask why Grian is so comfortable with a gun. They've got more pressing issues.

An imp gets lucky. It's just enough to crack the visor of Xisuma's helmet, and the imp instantly gets mowed down.

"I can't see," Xisuma rasps through gritted teeth.

"Then take the helmet off," Tommy says, cleaving through an enemy with a sharp piece of scrap metal. Grian breathes in sharply. As far as Grian's aware, Xisuma always wears his helmet.

Xisuma goes quiet for a second. "I suppose you've got a point."

The helmet gets dropped to the ground and demon limbs shuffle it away. They don't have time to look at Xisuma's wild brown hair, his purple eyes, the burn scars on his jaw.

They make it to the portal all in one piece. Xisuma takes one last wistful look at the Martian hellscape, then takes his friends' hands. They step through the portal together.

----

They step out of the portal into the foyer of a high school. Grian's eyes shutter.

"We'll be headed toward the roof, I believe," he says, staring dully through the spectre of a broken, bloody man holding a rope.

Tommy latches onto Grian's clammy hand to ground him as the three ascend stairs and traverse the dark, winding hallways. The ghost follows them. It isn't like Ghostbur-- it's, well, not vengeful, but it's not kind. The man named Gareth keens about Grian's sins, about a boy named Taurtis who Gareth hates, about mafia and yakuza, about his poor wife Jane.

On the last set of stairs, Gareth makes a wailing remark that causes Grian to bodily flinch. Tommy doesn't even know what the ghost said (he wasn't listening).

"Fuck off," Tommy says, "you're the shittest ghost I've ever met. Even my brother could..."

He trails off. This is not the way to fix things for Grian. On a hunch, he reaches into his pocket. Of course the object he's looking for is in there; it's his brother's coat.

He holds the object out to the ghost. "Have some blue."

Gareth warily takes it, dropping his rope. It floods periwinkle, then cyan, then dark royal blue. A weight seems lifted from the ghost's shoulders as he clutches the blue, mutters something about Jane, and leaves.

Tommy takes Grian's hand, then Xisuma's, and they go through the door to the school's rooftop together. They halt as one. The portal is there. Standing between them is a boy maybe Tommy's age, with a corpse at his feet.

"Sam," Grian whispers. "Taurtis."

The standing boy smiles, eyes obscured by a purple mask with a rectangular symbol on it, and flexes bloody wings. The corpse on the ground has blood all over its back, where wings once were, and broken headphones around his neck.

"Man, Grian, you really held out on me," Sam says. "This Watcher power really is something else--"

Sam topples over backward. His body hits the ground in front of the portal. Xisuma lowers his gun.

"He looked like bad news," Xisuma says.

Grian grimaces. "He was. Come on, let's go."

They once again step into the portal.

----

“Do you want to be a hero, Tommy?” Technoblade roars, “Then die like one!”

Their paltry little group of three gets no chance to take in their surroundings, to see what’s going on and where they need to go. All they can process is the legendary PvP champion, acolyte of the Blood God, Technoblade, unleashing Withers upon what once might have been a town.

Tommy yanks them into cover. “I don’t know where the portal is,” he hisses.

Grian squeezes his shoulder. “We’ll find it.”

Explosions rain hellfire down upon them from all angles-- not just the Withers, but TNT buried in the ground. They’re so close, they can see the man who set it off. And he must have, because he’s yelling about it, yelling about his L’Manberg and his unfinished symphony and begging his father to kill him. He’s wearing Tommy’s coat--

Bile rises in the back of Grian’s throat. Tommy wears his brother’s coat.

Tommy’s eyes are glued to the gleaming diamond sword that Wilbur gives to his father. He watches his brother die all over again, and he knows where he must go. He turns his back on his broken family and breathes.

“We need to go to the Nether,” he says. They nod.

The black portal is across the battlefield. They come across corpses more than once on their way, but ignore them. They can’t afford not to.

In the Nether, there is a rickety, dangerous pathway with no rails, made of cobblestone and obsidian and oak logs. Manic-depressive ravings on signs proclaim the path as the road to Logstedshire. Piglins try to knock them off to no avail, and ghasts blow up the bridge behind them as they run. On the other side of the Logstedshire portal is... actually not a hellscape, as Grian and Xisuma have come to expect, but a little village encampment. Nothing is blown up, nothing is amiss, except Tommy himself. And, of course, the figure they spot after they catch Tommy staring at it.

It’s Dream. The up-and-coming famous speedrunner who Grian faintly recalls killing once in MCC, which was apparently a big deal. The man approaches, and Grian realizes where he recognizes the mask from. It’s the same one that Tommy wears.

“Tommy,” Dream says conversationally, “items in the pit.”

Tommy’s hand wavers, reaches up to unclasp his chestplate, but Xisuma’s hand on his shoulder stops him.

“No,” Tommy says.

“No?” Dream parrots incredulously. “You know the rules. It’s for your own good. Armor in the pit. Tools in the pit. Friends in the pit.”

They all gasp, though for different reasons. Tommy’s eyes narrow. “Friends in the pit? You’ve never said that one before.”

Dream’s head twitches. “Friends in the pit. Friends. In the pit.”

The man’s voice is deeper than Tommy remembers. Something seems to resolve within Dream’s behavior, yet he keeps twitching. “You’re in exile, Tommy, you don’t need. Friends. I’m all you need. You were doing so good. I thought you learned to behave. I’m all you need. You don’t need friends.”

What happened to the eloquent poison that used to drip from Dream’s tongue like honey? He sounds like a broken record. All at once, Tommy staggers under the weight of the realization that this isn’t Dream. Somewhere underneath that horrible man that abused him is the real Dream, trapped in his own body and watching the dreamon that possessed him hurt his friends.

Xisuma’s gun makes an appearance again, but Tommy holds up a hand in a silent request for the admin to hold his fire. Tommy grabs Dream by the shoulders, removes Dream’s mask and then his own so that he can look the man in the eyes. “I know you’re in there, Dream. When I get out of this nightmare, I’ll save you. I swear it on my discs.”

Dream’s face twitches erratically. The movement spreads to his whole head, neck jerking. He raises straight up into the air, higher and higher, then explodes into a shower of items and no body. A white portal shimmers into existence.

“What the hell was that?!” Grian demands.

Tommy grins, taking the man’s hand and leading him to the portal. “I’ve got a friend to save.”

Grian snarls. “Tommy, he abused you. He’s not your friend.”

“That wasn’t Dream. It was a--”

“Dreamon,” Xisuma breathes.

Tommy nods. They walk through the portal together, and when they wake, holding each other close, they know they’ve got a mission. They can do it.

[evilvarric666-archive]

its crazy how we can get so many diff things from the same story like thats real proof of how multifaceted multilayered and cunty this story is.. like. im walking while i write this and not checking it twice so it might end up making no fucking cents but. ive always seen dao as a game about (among other things) rebirth and its one of the main reasons why im still so in love with it.. like the best origins ACTUALLY start with a baptism of blood for the wardens.. brosca is born and recognized as an actual person in the surface but that could only happen after their baptism of blood (the proving in a minor way, but mainly the murder of behrat by their own hands, them emerging from the surface coated not only in remnants of the blood of the warrior and noble caste from the proving but mainly bathed in behrats blood, the remains of the dwarf that was a living reminder of how, in the eyes of orzammar, they would never be considered a person, only property, only a tool). through their blood, though his death, rebirth. like the fact tht they get their autonomy, their agency, the thing that literally separates a person from a possession AFTER the death of behrat and their ascension to the surface. them carving themselves a path out with THEIR OWN HANDS, THE LATENT BELIEF THAT LIFE HAS TO BE SOMETHING MORE, AND THEIR DESIRE TO LIVE AND BE RECOGNIZED, EVEN IF THEY HAD TO FORCE PEOPLE TO RECOGNIZE THEM AS A PERSON, but ultimately getting to leave their old inhuman existence behind through the help of others(1/?)

(2/?)brosca only getting collectively recognized as a person after going to the surface, the place where not only do they get to see real light and breathe fresh air, and actually FEEL unabashedly for the first time in their entire life, but also where they get to feel how its like to be treated like a regular individual. the first place where they are treated kindly and decently. brosca having to face the reality of their own latent mortality firsthand during the very same night of the day they arrive at ostagar. and them getting to experience the fullness and complexity of life and emotion, and the power that lies in them, only during the first blight, a time that is supposed to be the most hopeless and horrifying of times, but that is instead experienced by them as the year where they discovered not only themselves as a person through love, kindness and companionship, but also others. like dragon age origins is literally Life: the speedrun for some of the characters and the player. some of these mfs never got to live or be people before the events of dao. morrigan, zevran and brosca are reborn through other people's love and active recognition of their humanity. alistair only had a real sense of identity for the first time when duncan chose him and took him away and that stayed with him as an act of love. wynne was reborn when she fused with faith and she describes this new state of existence as "constantly feeling loved". oghren got another chance at life in the surface, and was reborn as a "hero" and later on, as a grey warden. sten "dies" when he loses his sword, becomes someone different and goes back home a changed man, despite looking the same. shale is murdered and put through literal hell by having her body turned into a literal tool, her identity and sense of personhood lost in the transformation and through others treatment of her as a tool. she spends years living as an object before being born again during the fifth blight, the first time ever she is allowed agency, gets her memories of her old life, is treated, loved, and recognized as a person, and chooses her own path for the first time ever.

(3/3)leliana dying after her torture and actually being reborn as a person due to the love that she found in the chantry. and the truth that rebirth, personhood, identity and humanity are not ever truly reached through violence.. always through courage, love and acceptance. i said v little abt zev and morrigan but like. morrigan's example being quite literally breaking free of her old life as her mother's tool, learning how to be a person, her own person, and being recognized and loved as one and not seen as something wicked and inhuman for the first time, and having the symbol of her humanity, identity and personhood returned to her (the mirror), just to end her story by her loving someone so much that she sacrifices her new life just to allow them to continue living. zev's rebirth as a person kinda mirrors morrigans, but it always drives me crazy how its like. recognized by the narrative as him actually choosing his identity as the black shadow after the fifth blight. like actual rebirth through love happens there, this actually being validated by taliesins line of "does zevran need to live?". the jarring difference between brosca and leske during their return to orzammar and the fact that zev mustve felt the same when he encountered taliesin again. the fact that both taliesin and leske are both the doubles and mirror/inverted images of zev and brosca, and that looking at them must've felt like looking at their won corpse. anyways something something humanity is only reached through love something something phoenix rises from the ashes etc. like the way that dao is both a story of rebirth and a love story because those two things are one and the same due to the deeply transformative nature of love, real love... this game fucks severely it sucks so fucking bad that dai was pure ass. umm anyways i forgot where i was going with this & its prolly unintelligible but umm. im a huge fan of your da posts especially the unhinged ones <3

[waitimcomingtoo]

In Case You Don’t Live Forever

~chapter eleven rewritten~

Pairing: Peter Parker x Venom!Reader

Synopsis: you are Peters greatest love and Spider-Man’s greatest enemy

Series Masterlist

In Case You Don’t Live Forever by Ben Platt

The next morning at 6 am, you got in a taxi and made your way to the airport. You packed up all your clothes the night before and told MJ to ship anything else to you. You figured if you waited until a few months, things between you and Peter would be settled and it wouldn’t be too awkward. Or sad. You mainly felt sad.

The sun was rising and your cab sat in stand still traffic. You wiped a few stray tears and looked out the window. You noticed a few people standing by the edge of the highway, taking pictures of the bridge. You couldn’t see because of the glare of the sun in your eyes. You figured it was a sky writer or something like that. But then you noticed people getting out of their cars to take pictures.

“What’s going on?” You asked the cab driver. He turned around. He was an older man with grey hair and thin, black tinted sunglasses. A kind smile poked out from under his mustache.

“There’s something written on the bridge.” He answered.

“Something on the bridge?” You asked.

“See for yourself. We’re not moving anytime soon.”

You got out of the car and squinted in the bridge. Your heart immediately stopped at what you saw. You walked towards the edge of the highway and leaned against the railing. Tears trickled down your eyes, happy ones this time. You blinked them away, not wanting anything to obstruct your view of the bridge.

There on the bridge in big webbed letters spelled out the undeniable phrase:

I LOVE YOU

Just as you were admiring it, Spider-Man swung down and swept you up in his arms. You heard applause and cheering as you two swung away. You held on tightly, as did Spider-Man. He landed on the top of one of the posts of the bridge and set you down, never taking his arms off of your waist. Likewise, you kept your arms around his neck and pressed your body close.

Peter quickly took off his mask and smiled at you. His eyes were puffy, surely from crying. But the loving look in his eyes remained.

“Did you get my message?” He asked excitedly.

“What message?” You played coy.

“On the bridge.” Peter said, not detecting your sarcasm.

“Oh, that was you? I couldn’t make it out. What did it say?” You asked. You knew exactly what it said.

“It said I love you.” Peter said proudly. “It was gonna say ‘I love you Y/n L/n please don’t move to San Francisco’ but I was on a time crunch and it’s very hard to write things on a bridge in webs. I practiced on the Brooklyn Bridge first and I accidentally wrote ‘I larb you.’ But that wasn’t what I wanted to say. What I wanted to say is, you’re wrong. You’re wrong about us being on different paths. We’re not on different paths, Y/n. Because you’re my path. I’ll give up Spider-Man. He means nothing to me if I don’t have you. I mean it. You and I are meant to be. If I know anything at all to be true, it’s that. I can’t imagine life without you. So if you go to San Francisco, I’m coming too. Hell, wherever you go, I’m coming too. They have crime in San Francisco, right? What I’m trying to say is, I love you, Y/n L/n. I am so in love with you. And nothing can keep me away.” Peter professed. You held him tighter and pressed your nose into his.

“I love you too, Peter Parker.” You whispered. “With all my heart.”

“Then will you stay with me? Or allow me to come with you?” Peter asked hopefully.

How could you say no? Every time you thought you could shut the door on Peter, he found a window.

“The world is rooting against us Peter.” You said. His face fell and his grip on your hips loosened. “But if it’s you and me against the world, then so be it.”

Peters smile lit up his entire face when you finished your sentence. He dipped you and kissed you passionately.

“I love you. I love you so much. I can never say it enough.” Peter said as he pressed kisses into your neck.

“I love you too.” You said back. You knew you should feel terrified given your fear of heights, but you couldn’t feel safer in Peters iron grip.

“Can we go home? I need to hold you for an entire day to make up for the time we were broken up.” Peter asked. You laughed.

“We were broken up for less than 8 hours.” You reminded him.

“8 hours of pure torture.” He fake gasped.

“Come on. Let’s get your stuff from the cab and go home. Did I mention you’re moving in? And that we’re getting married? Also what are we naming our children? Do you want it get a cat together?” Peter joked as he tightened his grip around your waist. A part of you hoped he wasn’t joking though. You wanted that with Peter. All of that. Even that cat.

“Does our apartment even allow cats?” You laughed.

“No.” He shook his head. “But if my baby wants one, we’ll get one. I want to start our lives now. I don’t want to miss another second apart from you. I’m serious. Never leave me again.” Peter said, tugging you into a tight hug. He nuzzled into your neck and pressed soft kisses there.

“I won’t. I won’t ever. I promise.”

Peter swung you back to the apartment after collecting your things from the cab. You spent the day in Peters bed just cuddling and talking about all the things you never could before.

“And then he told me you were going back to San Francisco to be with him.” Peter laughed as he told you about his encounter with Andy.

“I can’t believe he lied to you like that.” You shook your head. “He’s such an idiot.”

“He would’ve been a dead idiot if I had known he kissed you.” Peter joked.

“Hm. And I thought I was the only killer here.” You smirked as you pressed a soft kiss to his lips.

“What are your powers?” Peter asked as he brushed your hair out of your face. You kissed his thumb lightly.

“Same as you. Super strength, super hearing, climbing walls. And I have acid spit and resistivity to bullets. But I don’t have your uh…Peter tingle.” You told him. Peter chuckled softly.

“It’s called my spidey sense.” Peter corrected.

“That’s really not much better than Peter tingle.” You teased.

“Shut up. What about your weaknesses?” Peter asked. You toyed with his fingers.

“Fire. And sound. We hate sound.” You said.

“All sounds?” Peter asked curiously.

“No. Not all sounds. Just loud ones. Car alarms, feedback, amps, things like that.” You answered.

“What happens to you when you encounter fire or sound?”

“What’s with all the questions? You’re not trying to take me down, are you?” You teased. Peter laughed and shook his head.

“No. I just want to know everything about you.”

“Well sound makes Venom separate from me. And fire kills.” You said, remembering that night on Carlton Drakes rocket when the fire killed him and Riot.

“Both of you die?” He asked nervously.

“Both of us. Venom and I keep each other alive. If we were separated, we’d both die.” You told Peter. Peter looked at the ceiling with a weird look on his face. His heart was beating extremely fast. You took it as him being scared of you dying.

“But don’t worry about that. Venom and I are never going to be separated. No one knows our weaknesses.” You assured Peter. You felt a little strange sharing all your weaknesses with your former enemy, but you knew Peter would never try to hurt you it use them against you.

“What about you? What are your weaknesses?” You asked.

“You.” Peter smiled. You smiled back before something shiny in his closet caught your eye.

“Is that a keyboard?” You asked as you sat up and went into his closet. Peter sat up as well and rubbed his eyes.

“Oh, yeah. I used to play when I was younger. My uncle taught me. Do you play?”

You retrieved the keyboard and sat on Peters bed, answered his question by playing a few notes. Peter scooted next to you and slipped an arm around your waist.

“Play me something.” Peter said softly. It wasn’t demanding, it was a sweet request.

“I haven’t in so long.” You muttered as you began to press down on a few random keys. The keyboard made strangled sounds at first until you slowly began playing a song you had fallen in love with.

“I, I’ve carried this song in my mind. Listen, it’s echoing in me. But I haven’t helped you to hear it.”

You sang softly as you got the hang of playing the keyboard again. Peter looked wonderstruck at you. He didn’t know you had such a lovely voice. He didn’t recognize the song but he wanted to hear you play forever.

“We, we’ve only got so much time. I’m pretty sure it would kill me if you didn’t know the pieces of me are pieces of you.”

You sang with a little more confidence as the song progressed. Your voice wasn’t great but it was everything and more to Peter. Peter began to pick up on the pattern you were playing and softly rested his hands on the keys on his side.

“I’ve waited way too long to say everything you mean to me.” you dragged out the last note before going all in on the keyboard.

“In case you don’t live forever, let me tell you now. I love you more than you’ll ever wrap your head around.” You looked into Peters eyes and he looked deeply into yours. He leaned in so that his lips ghosted yours, but never touched.

“In case you don’t live forever, let me tell you the truth. I’m everything that I am because of you.”

You felt tears of joy pricking at your eyes. Peter felt it too. The moment was pure bliss. It was just you and the boy you loved. Nothing could ruin it.

“I have a hero whenever I need one. I just look up to you and I see one. I’m a man ‘cause you taught me to be one.”

Peter liked the hero line. It made the song perfect, like it was written just for the two of you. He had begun to play along with you and you finished out the song together, never breaking eye contact.

“In case you don’t live forever, let me tell you the truth. As long as I’m here as I am, so are you.” You finished. You and Peter took your hands off the keyboard and immediately pulled the other into a kiss. The keyboard fell to the floor with a clang but you didn’t even hear it.

“I love you. More than anything this world has to offer.” Peter said against your lips. You smiled and kissed him again. He tasted like strawberry chapstick this time. It was yours. He must’ve swiped it from you one day. You didn’t mind.

“Did you steal my chapstick?” You giggled against his mouth.

“Yes. But you stole my heart. Fair trade.” He argued playfully. You laughed and kissed his cheeks.

“It’s okay. You can keep it. What’s mine is yours and what’s yours is ours.” You told him as you ran your fingers through his chestnut hair.

“That’s so cute.” Peter whined.

“I know. I stole it from the Little Rascals.” You admitted sheepishly. He hit you with his pillow before tackling you onto the bed.

You spent the remainder of the day just like that until you had to leave for your final interview with Cletus Kasady.

“Y/n! My favorite gal. Sit down. I have so much to tell you. I got something real good for your story.” Cletus said upon your entry into his cell. You’d been interviewing him for about three months now. It was almost July and you two met in April. You had come to trust him and no longer needed a security guard to stand in the room with you while you talked. You also graduated from talking through those glass windows with telephones on either side to being allowed into his cell. He was still handcuffed to his chair and kept in a cage, so you had no fear of him harming you. You’d actually come to like him in a way. Sure, he killed people, but so had you. He was still charismatic and made you laugh every now and then.

“Nice to see you Cletus. What do you have to tell me?” You asked as you took a seat. Your eyes wandered to the partial wall at the bottom of his cage. You had grown accustomed to his habit of writing on his cell walls with his own blood, but this particular message made the hair on the back of your neck stand up. In big bloody letters it read:

WELCOME VENOM

You swallowed despite your throat being bone dry. Cletus gave you his signature smirk.

“I got me a bug. Just like you.” He drawled. He smiled at your proudly. You felt yourself beginning to sweat.

“A bug?” You asked.

“Are you familiar with the concept of asexual reproduction?” Cletus questioned. You nodded.

“Yes. It’s what plants do. Why?” You asked back. Where was he going with this?

“Not just plants. Symbiotes too.” Cletus stated. Your body went cold with fear. You immediately felt uneasy with the way he was looking at you. He didn’t blink, and had his face frozen with that smirk.

“Y/n.” Venom said cautiously. She held your hand and gripped it tightly for comfort.

“I’m sorry?” You asked. Your voice came out barely above a whisper.

“Yup. And sometimes, they don’t even know when they asexually reproduce. It could happen anywhere. Even in a prison cell.” Cletus continued. You began to piece together the story. Cletus suddenly leaned forward, as far as he could go with his restraints and lowered his voice.

“You and I are no different. We’re both killers. But you get to roam the streets freely while we’re stuck in here, starving. Does that sound fair?” Cletus asked. His eyes weren’t his anymore. They were milky white and bulging. You scooted your chair back in fear.

“No.” You said. You didn’t want to anger him so you agreed with him.

“No. It’s not. That’s why we’re breaking out of here. And when we do, there’s gonna be Carnage.” Cletus smirked, his eyes back to normal now. You trembled slightly.

Cletus Kasady had a symbiote of his own. One that was stronger and deadly than yours. At least Venom bonded to a reporter with morals. Carnage bonded with a serial killer. They made for a lethal combination and you knew you couldn’t stop the havoc that was coming.

“We want you to join us, Y/n.” Cleatus drawled. “You and Venom. Imagine the power we could have. The city would be ours. We could do whatever we want.”

You felt sweat running down the sides of your face as you carefully thought out what you said next.

“Thank you for the offer, but we have to decline. We’re not like you. We only kill very bad people. Cletus, you killed 17 women just because they resembled the girl who broke your heart in high school. We don’t see things the same way.” You told him slowly. Cletus’s face fell.

“I thought you were my friend. I don’t have any friends in here. Nobody wants to be friends with a serial killer. The only person who was ever nice to me was you.” Cletus said sadly. You let out a shaky breath. You felt a little sorry for him, despite his lethal intentions.

“I know and I’m sorry. But Venom and I aren’t killers.” You said in your calmest tone.

“Yes, you are. Whether you like it or not, you will always have to kill to feed. You’ve been a good person your whole life, Y/n. What has it gotten you? You told me about your parents. Did being a good person keep them alive? And what about Andy? You exposed Carlton Drake because you’re a good person, and Andy still broke up with you. Why not throw your morals away and just be the monster you were meant to be?” Cletus persuaded. Your fear turned to sadness quickly and hot tears spilled down your cheeks.

“I am not a monster.” You said angrily. “We are not a monster.”

“But you are. The sooner you realize it, the freer you’ll be. It’s your choice.” Cletus shrugged.

“We choose to be good.” You said firmly. Cletus gave you a disappointed nod.

“Carnage told me you’d say that. I told him you were different. I guess I was wrong. I’m going to be sorry to see you go.” Cletus said sadly.

“See me go?” You asked.

“Carnage said anyone who stands in the way must die. That means you, Venom, Spider-Man, and anyone else who tries to stop us from taking over New York.”

You felt sick to your stomach. Killing you was one thing, but Spider-Man? Peter hadn’t done anything to Carnage. Why was Peter a Target?

“Please don’t hurt Spider-Man. You can kill me but please, don’t touch him.” You begged. Cletus smirked.

“Looks like Carnage was right about that too.” Cletus chuckled.

“Right about what?” You asked. Cletus seemed to be conversing with Carnage in his head.

“Right about there being something going on between you and Spider-Man. I’ll do my best to keep Carnage away from him, but I don’t have much control. So no promises. Even though you let me down, I have a liking for you Y/n. You knew what I did to those women and you still agreed to write an article on me and hear my side of the story. Most people wanted to lock me up and throw away the key. Not you. You listened. We won’t hurt him. But we want a deal.” Cletus stated.

“What deal?” You asked bitterly.

“We want a battle. A fair one. Venom vs. Carnage. If you win, we’ll go back to Klyntar. But if we win, you become apart of our team and we destroy New York together, starting with everyone who got me thrown in this hell hole. Do we have a deal?” Cletus asked. You didn’t want to agree to it but you knew you had no other choice. Carnage was strong but he lacked the impeccable bond you had with Venom. You were confident in Venoms abilities in a fight. Your solemnly nodded your head.

“It’s a deal. When?”

“Tonight at midnight on top of the Oscorp building. Don’t be late.” Cletus said. Before you could answer, the security guard came in.

“The hour is up, Miss L/n. It’s time for Cletus’s meal.” The guard said. Your checked your watch. It was in fact 7 o’clock. The hour had gone the fastest it ever had. You shot Cletus one last look before you thanked the security guard and left. You could feel his smirk watching you as you went.

~

“Peter? Y/n’s at the front door.” May called from the kitchen. Peter perked up at the slightest mention of your name.

Peter went to his front door and saw you were still dressed in nice clothes for your interview. Peter loved your usual laid back style but he also loved seeing you dressed up. It reminded him of how bad ass you were.

“Hi.” You said shyly, noticing him staring.

“Hey.” He said back. “What’s up?”

“Can we talk in the hall?” You asked. Peter nodded gravely and followed you out into the hall. He shut the door behind him and turned to face you.

“Y/n-“ he began.

“I came here to break up with you.” You interrupted. Peter eyes snapped from the floor to your face. You didn’t seem upset. You seemed almost excited. Peter felt the opposite.

“Wh-“ Peter began but you cut him off again.

“Let me finish. I came here to break up with you. But I’m not going to do that anymore.” You clarified. “Peter, there’s a very bad man after me. I just found out that Carnage bonded with Cletus Kasady. He’s stronger than me, faster than me, and more deadly than me. He’s asked me to join his side and I said no. Now, he’s going to kill me. And he said he’s going to kill you too. I have until midnight until the fight.”

“Okay.” Peter followed along. “So what about the breakup?”

“I figured I’d come here and break up with you, and not just break up but really break your heart. I was gonna tell you I cheated on you and if that didn’t work I was gonna say I was using you to get over Andy and that I still loved him. All lies, by the way. My heart beats for only you. But I thought that if I made you hate me, Carnage would have no reason to go after you and he’d leave you alone. So that was my plan when I left the prison. But as I drove here, I remembered I wasn’t just dating some guy. I remembered was dating Spider-Man.” You said proudly, and Peter grinned.

“What I’m trying to say is, I believe in you. I know you’re strong and capable of anything you put your mind to. You’re extraordinary, Peter. And I don’t have to protect you, as much as I might want to. So, I did come here to break up with you. But now that I’m here, I’m asking you to fight Carnage with me. I want you by my side when I fight the biggest battle of my life. What do you say? Will you help me, Spider-Man?”

“I will.” He said confidently. “Thank you for believing in me.”

“Thanks for giving me something to believe in.” You shrugged.

You spent the remaining hours before midnight coming up with a strategy with Peter. Soon enough, it was time to meet Cleatus on the roof. You and Peter swung there, shaking with anticipation as Cleatus arrived. You held Peter’s hand through this suit, still not in your Venom form. Cleatus looked between the two of you, and then at your intertwined hands. 
“Remember when you said I could kill you if I left Spiderman alone?” Cleatus asked through a wicked smile. Peter looked at you, confused as to why you would say that as you nodded.

“Well, I’d like to take you up on that.” Cleatus said as he morphed into Carnage. He grabbed Peter in a quick movement and threw him off the roof, leaving you alone with him. You ran in the director that Peter was thrown but Carnage caught you and dragged you to him, stepping on your neck to keep you down.

“Told you.” He snarled in your ear. “There’s gonna be carnage.”

[amethystpath-writes]

Fool-Proof

(NOT A PR0MPT) I finally finished the thing I talked about writing for weeks! Enjoy, everyone <3

******

Patrolling the streets perhaps wasn’t entirely necessary amongst a storm, Hero thought. Who would be out right now, besides an adventure seeker looking to dodge a fallen tree or be struck by lightning?

The wind was strong enough that Hero struggled to remain standing. She was knocked into a sidestep, then another, then another. She would get herself knocked down if she wasn’t mindful of the gusts.

Then again, she would also get herself knocked down if she didn’t watch her footing as she came closer to a stumbling figure in the distance. Through the rain, the person was difficult to see, but they were at least obviously human. Not some alien emerging from the rainwater, or something odd like that.

“Hey! You doing alright? The weather isn’t really great for a stroll; you should head into the nearest building. Storm is only going to get worse!”

It was very likely the person didn’t hear her. After all, Hero could barely hear herself past all the rain falling around her ears. How was the rain moving at a rate faster than sound? Didn’t matter. She just needed to get closer.

As Hero neared, she realized the figure had an arm wrapped around themselves. Their stumbling was getting worse, back was arching more. They were coughing, gagging. “Do you need some help? I can walk you to the nearest building. Is it okay for me to help?”

The person looked up, now within earshot of Hero. Even as they turned so slowly, Hero could recognize the hair, the jaw, the cheeks, the physique. She took a step back. “You escaped.” The words were choked, shocked, unpleased. Hero took another step back, ignoring the way the rain now began pelting the side of her face. “How? I- I made sure it was all fool-proof.”

She wasn’t so scared as she was confused- maybe a tad irritated. Who could have let him get out?

“Fool-proof?” Supervillain muttered, just loud enough for Hero to hear. And, just before lightning could dash across the sky, a loud boom followed shortly after. “Is that what you call it? Well, I reckon I should be glad I’m not a fool.”

“You’re hurt.” Hero could tell by the way Supervillain spoke- how quiet he was being, how raspy his voice was, as if he’d been crying some time ago. Maybe he had been- certainly seemed like it by way he held his abdomen. “I don’t suppose you squeezed through the bars to escape?”

“Bars don’t bend.”

“Then how’d you get out?”

Supervillain’s head lifted, and his back straightened ever-so-slightly. “What would you think if I told you I was let out?”

Hero swallowed, shook her head. No one would have let him out. No one was so stupid to release a supervillain.

“I know what you’re thinking.”

“You don’t know anything.”

“I know the panic you’re feeling,” Supervillain said, chest seeming to suddenly hurt much less than before. “I know that you’re aware of my influence- how easily I can turn one’s mind to benefit my own actions and ideals.”

Well, yes. Now that Supervillain said it, Hero did feel quite unnerved. At first, she was only irritated- only puzzling out how he might have escaped. Now, though…if what Supervillain said was true, that someone let him out, that meant she had more enemies, more people to be wary of. Hero would turn her head at everyone she crossed paths with now.

“I’m not in any panic. I-” Hero’s gaze fell to the right of Supervillain’s figure. There was someone in the distance- standing much like how Supervillain was earlier, crouched over, holding themselves. “What did you do?”

“I,” Supervillain said, a barely contained smirk forming on his face “escaped.”

In the distance, the person collapsed, hand never leaving their side until they met the ground, where their arm then unconsciously flopped. Hero didn’t wait a moment. She left Supervillain where he stood. He was laughing in his mocking way, loving the victory he so obviously achieved.

The rain picked up, beating and pounding against Hero’s skin. If she weren’t so focused on helping this fallen person, she’d be worried her skin was being peeled off by the rain.

Of course, the wind contributed itself as an obstacle, as well, knocking Hero side to side. Once to the left, twice to the right. It pushed her like a hundred devilish hands, away from her goal, then towards it, and away again. It tossed her like a ragdoll, all the while another figure appeared. And another. Another. They were all falling. She couldn’t help them all.

As she approached the first body, Supervillain’s voice ran perfectly clear behind her- no rain hindering the sound waves he sent in her direction. “How great of an idea you had, Hero.”

She swallowed, unturning. The rain was gone, the clouds vacant from the sky. The moon shone on the wet street, an ominous setting for anyone, surely.

“What could go wrong in a prison full of the most notorious people?”

It was now that the body in front of Hero turned their- no his- head, now facing Hero in full.

Villain. He gave a fake coughing fit- one Hero only knew was fake because of the smile he bore on his face as he began standing. Villain wasn’t sick, as much as he wanted Hero to think so before revealing himself. This- all of it- was an act orchestrated by Supervillain. The storm, the fake injury, the various others collapsing. It was a trick.

Before she knew it, one person after another was approaching her, trapping her in a close circle.

“You can take us out one at a time,” Villain told Hero. “But you can’t fight us all.”

The circle closed even more, everyone taking a step closer to Hero. From an outside perspective, one might have thought a demonic ritual was in session.

“You like to think you’re fool-proof, Hero, but you’re not.”

[honalele]

The Signal

“Are you going to tell me what we’re doing?” Purpled finally broke the silence as Quackity stalked towards wheat fields near the spider spawner. “And what is he doing here?” He added as he glanced at Technoblade. The pig-hybrid warrior strode tall and silent. His expression was difficult to read, but Purpled could tell by the flick of his ears and the way he gripped the hilt of his sword, he was annoyed.

“Keep it down. I didn’t pay you to run your mouth.” Quackity said as he led them into the wheat fields.

“All you said was that you’d pay me double whatever BadBoyHalo was paying me. You haven’t told me what we’re actually doing yet and as the only assassin on the job, I think I deserve to know.” Quackity glanced at Techno who shrugged in response. Quackity sighed and then began testing the ground like he was searching for traps.

“I know that BadBoyHalo hired you to do a job and I know that job was to kill CaptainPuffy, and how I know that is above your pay grade.” Quackity hesitated, then spun around and started searching in another area of the field. “The thing is, this Red Banquet has been a hoax the entire time. The Eggpire doesn’t actually want peace, it wants control. It’s a trap and the people stupid enough to to fall for it are in for a load of some freaky fucked up shit.” Quackity paused and bent down. He brushed some loose dirt away to reveal a trap door, then opened it. “But that’s only if we don’t make it in time.” He said. Purpled watched as Quackity took off his pack and tossed it down the hole before climbing in himself. “Follow me.” He said just before disappearing into darkness.

Purpled peered down the ominous hole. Quackity called to them from the bottom. It appeared he made it in a matter of twenty seconds or so. Purpled stepped away from the hole and turned to Techno.

“You want to go first Pumba?” He said. Techno cocked his head and flicked his ear. He slowly walked towards Purpled until he stood directly over him. He was so close that Purpled could smell the stench of the North off his fluffy ruffled cape. “Never mind.” Purpled spoke through gritted teeth. He sidestepped the warrior and threw his pack down the hole just as Quackity had done. Then he gripped the sides of the ladder and leapt down into the dark abyss.

He rode the ladder like a firemen’s pole. Every so often he’d pass a torch, but most of them had gone out. He looked down and saw the floor coming up to him, it would be about another ten seconds before he needed to slow down. Then he heard a noise from above. He looked up and spotted a black shadow coming towards him, blocking the light from above. Techno had thrown his pack early. Purpled would be hit in the head with fifty pounds of gear if he didn’t think of something quick.

Then, he felt the air behind him suddenly become cool and he heard the sounds of a quiet cave echo around him. Just as the pack was about to hit him, Purpled launched himself from the ladder. He twisted through the air of the open cavern and made sure to land quietly on his feet. Techno’s pack fell with a harsh thud that echoed in the otherwise quiet space.

“What the fuck was that for?” Quackity called up to Techno. A few seconds passed before the warrior came barreling down the pole, kicking up dust as he hit the cavern floor. First he gave Quackity a look, then he gave Purpled the same look. He flicked his ear, picked up his bag, and started walking towards the only tunnel that led out of the chamber.

“Ask Hero Boy Chris.” He said before vanishing into the dark tunnel. Quackity paused and turned to Purpled with a confused expression. “Who the fuck is Chris?” Purpled shrugged and walked over to the ladder to grab his pack. Both him and Quackity entered the tunnel, following the dimly lit path.

Quackity quickly made his way to the front, leading both Purpled and Techno deep into a system of tunnels.

“Why are there so many tunnels down here?” Purpled asked in a low whisper to avoid echoing.

“I wanted to make sure that no one would follow us.” Quackity responded. “I’m the only person who knows the way out so stay on me and don’t do anything stupid.” He said as he made a right turn into a much more narrow tunnel.

The group continued to travel silently, making a few lefts and rights every now and then, when suddenly Quackity stopped and motioned for the others to crouch. Everyone was silent as Quackity led them around one final corner to a tunnel that was covered in red vines. Purpled bent down and picked up one of the crimson leaves. There was a rush of wind and he could hear a chorus of voices rushing along with it. He couldn’t make out what they were saying, but he closed his eyes and tried his best.

Then suddenly someone grabbed his arm. Purpled opened his eyes, finding himself face to face with the raging glow of Techno’s blood red gaze. The voices swept up as did the wind, but Purpled recognized something familiar in the beast’s eyes.

“Drop it.” He said in a low threatening voice. The wind pulled at Purpled, egging him to disobey the man, after all, what harm could a leaf do? But Techno’s grip only grew tighter and eventually it was a decision between the leaf or his hand. Purpled dropped the leaf.

The voices immediately died down and were replaced with different ones that caught everyone’s attention. Technoblade let go of Purpled’s arm and the group of three made their way to the end of the tunnel. Then Quackity stopped again and signed for Techno and Purpled to remain still.

From the other side of the wall they could hear,

“Bad, Ant, this is your last chance with me. Your very last chance.”

“What are you going to do?”

As the arguing continued, Purpled looked to Quackity who still hadn’t given them the signal. He wasn’t quite sure what the man was waiting for.

“I don’t care about the egg! I care about people Ant, and you don’t.”

“This is because of you. You left the Eggpire. You betrayed us first.”

“You think you’re going to put my son up there and kill him in front of me?”

Purpled glanced at Quackity. Surely they should intervene at this point. But Quackity was listening intently on the conversation and his mind was deep in thought.

“Look at you now Puffy. You tried to protect everyone, and look at you now. Foolish, your own son is about to be slaughtered because of you.”

“Quacki-“ Quackity threw his hand over Purpled’s mouth with enough force to push him up against the opposite wall. Purpled could have tried to toss him off, but that would risk an unnecessary amount of noise.

“…but this is your fault.”

Then the scream came. The laughter. The shouting.

Purpled shifted from Quackity’s grasp and he finally let him go. Purpled took a few gulps of air, but did his best to keep quiet. He looks to Technoblade, but the warrior was deep inside his own mind.

Purpled was used to watching people die. He was used to gathering hits and profiting off people’s lives. But this was different. It was strange. There was a reason Quackity was doing this. There was a reason he let the targets kill one of the people they were meant to protect.

But employer always called the shots. A lesson he’d learned long ago.

“Wait for my fucking signal.” Quackity whispered to them before crawling through a small opening to the Egg’s chamber.

And Purpled obeyed.

After a few silent moments he looked over to Technoblade who was watching him with that stupid pitiful look that every adult tended to give him.

“It’s a job.” He said in defense. Techno’s gaze shifted if only slightly and he flicked his ear.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.” He replied. Purpled tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword. Just when he thought he had a read on this guy, he would say or do something that threw him off. Technoblade the mass murderer. Technoblade the pacifist. Technoblade the killer of kings.

“So what helps you sleep?” He asked.

“I don’t.” More bullshit.

“For the record, I hope I never work with you again.”

“Ditto.”

And then Quackity’s voice carried over, “I brought the next best thing. I brought my biggest enemy.”

[burnedbyshoto]

shinsou and the very terrible, horrible, no good, very bad shift

— You, a new sidekick, screw up a case for a Pro Hero Shinsou, and he demands compensation.

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pairing: older!shinsou hitoshi x younger fem!reader

warnings: age gap (shinsou 25, reader 18), nsfw, 18+, pwp, DEGRADATION, power imbalance, spanking, marking, cursing, shinsou is a major asshole, mindbreak, sorta subspace, happy ending for shinsou, depending on person unhappy ending for reader, public sex, dubcon because of power imbalance

word count: 3,892

a/n: happy halloween. this is mean degradation imo like I thought ive done degradation but this made all those look like praise kink. be careful and click out if its too much

kinktober day 20 main kink: degradation | kinktober masterlist

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How you ever forgot that as a high school hero-in-training student, you were a big fish in a tiny pond was beyond you. Well, to be quite honest, you never thought yourself to be a big fish, to begin with.

You were eighteen, a few months from turning nineteen and had just graduated from the hero course over at UA. That in itself was a huge accomplishment, one that you should take with bubbling pride and joy, but to be quite honest, having such a big name attached to you only made you nervous. To tell the truth, you often wondered just why a hero within the top 50 even scouted you to work as an intern with them and then offer you a position as a sidekick as soon as you entered your third year. Still, it seemed to be a common predicament with BMI Hero: FatGum.

Today was your first day on the job, no longer a student part of a hero work-study, but as a physical, government paid hero — a fickle sidekick! You shuddered as you slipped on the shoes to your outfit, your teeth gnawing at your bottom lip as you made your way out of the locker room, ready to report to your first assignment.

FatGum agency was quite a lovely place, loud and warm, being the first two adjectives you thought of when you first joined their ranks. It did wonders for your self-esteem, and seeing newly turned Pro Hero Suneater, who apparently was a million times more of a nervous mess than you were, made you feel oddly in good hands.

But still, nothing could keep you from the shock that ran through your body when FatGum proudly thrust forward a patrol route for you to follow.

“Alright, pipsqueak,” FatGum jovially spoke, his eyes closed while he smiled. “This is your route for the day! It should take about an hour to get through unless anything happens! You’ll go on the route every three hours, and in between those patrols, it’s the same paper system as before! Good luck out there, y/h/n, you got this!”

“Oh my god, no, I do not?!” you spluttered, hands shaking wildly as you went through the folder Fat had so quickly presented. “What if I die?!”

“You’ll be fine. Remember how Deku and Ground Zero complimented you the other day?”

“Yeah!” you exclaim, your face burning with your shame as you remembered that confrontation. “But that only happened because Deku is a living saint, and I spilled my noodles all over him and Ground Zero! Ground Zero was also, by the way, forced to compliment me by Deku! And all he said was that my combat skills were absolutely shitty but not as shitty as he thought they would be!”

“Ah yes, I remember Red Riot discussing how his friend was less than inept at expressing his gratitude,” FatGum hummed in memory, although that dumb, proud smile never left his face. “If I remember correctly, that means he has great respect for you!”

You made a dying noise at the back of your throat.

“But Deku doesn’t lie! He speaks honestly, so all his compliments were definitely true. Now, y/h/n, let's get through this day together, ne?”

You didn’t agree, but that wouldn’t stop him from throwing you out to the streets, your heart hammering in your throat as you walked through the path he used to take you on every day. Your smile was shaky and wobbly as the people you recognized waved and cheered you on. They were all excited to see you on your own. 

However, they did point out that you were here an entire hour earlier than usual, but hey! That’s what happened when you went from being a student to trying to function as an adult!

“You’re okay, you’re okay, you’re okay,” you chanted as you passed by the spookiest alleyway on your patrol.

The hour-long patrol was almost done if your watch wasn’t lying to you: a full patrol and not a single instance of needing to help. Well, you had assisted some people in carrying groceries and holding a child as a mother shopped for dinner that night, but there were no altercations, nothing out of the ordinary. 

You marched through the alleyway, your fists in a shaky clenched grip as cold, nervous sweat dripped down your neck.

You were okay, you are okay, you will be okay.

“Nothing to be afraid of! Just a normal, average, no villains insight day!” you spoke to yourself, your body shaking as you pass an opening in the alleyway, and you turn your head to look and freeze.

“Alright, and I don’t want fucking nobody hearing goddamn shit about this drug, got it?!” a man with a quirk that made him look like a blowfish snapped.

Six men stood in the alleyway, all with tall, massive, threatening vibes. You didn’t make a single noise; you knew that for a fact, but their gazes still fell on you the moment the man stopped speaking. A horrible, stupid movie cliche that happened too often in hero life.

Your life probably flashed before your eyes at that single moment, your body and mind instinctively moving to call the heroes before realizing that you were the hero now. What do you do?! What could you do?! Drugs?! Did they have drugs?!

Panicking greatly, you watched their mouths move, but you couldn’t hear them as you took in their faces in a blur. Before you knew it, your mind shut down, and your body took over. You weren’t sure what it was. If you were way stronger than the entire group or if you just had an untapped potential that burst open right now, because you blinked and suddenly there were all thrown onto the floor, busted and bloody and tied up.

You… you did it?!

“Oh my god!” you exclaimed, your hands rising to your mouth as you looked at each and every one of their smushed, dirty faces. “I WON?! I won, oh my god, I won — wait?!”

You stepped over to the purple-haired man on the floor, his mouth stuffed with a cloth fabric you probably shoved in there at some point.

“M-Mindjack-sensei?!” you cried, your excitement of betting this drug handoff simmering off immediately. “W-What are you doing? Were you gonna stop this drug handoff? I — oh my god, let me get this off!” You scrambled to get the restraints off of Shinsou, unaware of the way the other captured men glared at Shinsou, utterly shocked and betrayed as you cleared him.

“Thank you for the capture, y/h/n!” a police officer congratulated you as you freed Shinsou, and you smiled, nodding your head. “Is it just four of them?”

You froze.

You had counted six men at first, and with Shinsou recovered, that made five men.

“I didn’t… I lost one of them?” you deflated, all sense of confidence draining you as Shinsou remained on the floor.

“Ah,” the police officer grimaced, his head shaking before he paused and looked up at you with a halfhearted smile. “Well, you still did good work! We’ll see what drug they were talking about, and if it’s nothing too crazy, they’ll be good to go!”

“Yeah, of course,” you smile weakly, feeling ready to cry as you hold onto your wrist.

“But, uh, who’s the guy on the ground?” he nodded towards Shinsou, who was looking entirely pissed off and ready to bite like some cornered, raging animal.

“Oh, Mindjack!” you respond, hands motioning toward one of the other older Pro Heroes you looked up to. 

The police officer stared at Shinsou, an unconvinced look on his face.

“I thought he was… ah, well, old? And didn’t he have black hair?” he muttered before shrugging. You didn’t manage to stutter out your knowledge of the older man with black hair being Eraserhead because he was long gone already, fingers pressed to his radio, chatting with his HQ.

Breathing out a nervous sigh, you turned to Shinsou with a shy and fully apologetic smile. “I am so sorry for hurting you! Are you okay?” you asked, your eyes scanning the older heroes' stance, unable to read anything but annoyance radiating from his body. 

“No, I’m not okay, actually,” Shinsou spat, his face finally looking up from the floor, and you felt your throat run thick at the rage and anger simmering from his face. 

“W-Wha—” you stammer, taking a step back, overwhelmed.

“You just fucking ruined six months of undercover work,” he seethed, his feet moving to stalk towards you. You found yourself stumbling backward, looking everywhere but at him. You can feel your balance giving; the cold filth of the alleyway wall your saving grace as his fingers grabbed your jaw, forcing you to face him. His purple eyes black in his fury. “I don’t think you realized just how badly you fucked up?! You stupid fucking child!”

A wash of ice-cold realization flooded through you, the horror of what you knew you just did completely dawning on you as tears sprung in your eyes. You felt nauseous, utterly sick to your stomach because this seasoned Pro Hero definitely had shit to do, and you practically shat all over it.

“I am so sorry,” you whimper, pain shooting through you just slightly at the grip he has on your chin. “I am so so sorry, i-is there anything that I c-can do?! How can I-I fix it?!”

“You think I need help from some crybaby?” Shinsou snapped, thoroughly unimpressed by you, his eyes narrowing further. You didn’t even realize you were crying already. 

“I-I’m useful, I promise!” you cry a bit more, your body struggling as the older hero trapped you against the wall, his face glowering down at you with the intensity of a million suns. “I-I’m a sidekick over a-at Fatgum’s agency, but, oh fuck, I’m so sorry! I’ll do anything you ask of me!”

There’s a looming silence, a heavy tension as his eyes drop from your eyes to your parted wet lips. He’s much taller than you, and you can feel every heavy breath expelling on your face. 

“You think a pathetic, worthless little sidekick is able to do anything for me?” Shinsou snapped, his eyes narrowing as he loomed even closer. “A pathetic fucking bitch like you? I don’t think you can give me even a simple fucking action that would prove your worth.”

The words are hot embers on your ears, making your jaw drop, and your body trembles at the simple degradation. You feel your tears hot on your cheeks, your parted lips invaded by his dirt-covered fingers as he pressed onto your tongue. It had to be the shock of it, the reality of the hot, hard dick pressing into your stomach and the way he was staring at you like some piece of fucking meat, but you gagged around his fingers.

“Why am I not fucking surprised, you goddamn fucking whore,” he sneered, his fingers shoving faster into your mouth, pressing dangerously hard against your tongue, trying to get you to gag and choke around his fingers. “You fucking sure you’re a fucking sidekick? Look at you, pathetic, stupid, crying like a baby in an alleyway? You’re a hero, aren’t you? Fucking save yourself from this, you fucking bitch.”

You violently shake, your hands finding themselves tethered to his shirt, your head shaking nonetheless.

“Oh, you don’t want to save yourself?” He coos, his expression turning the slightest bit amused, maybe a bit possessive, but it lasts a second. You blink, and anger has replaced the amusement, red streaking in his vision. “Why the fuck not?”

“B-Because,” you strangle, your tongue flat against your mouth, your throat instinctively opening and closing against his fingers. “I said I’ll do anything y-you wanted!”

There’s another pause, and you wait pressed against the wall, your chest heaving with your anxiety and weird turned-on state. Shinsou was a Pro Hero, someone who was eight years older than you, someone you had respected since you were in grade school. Yet, here you were, looking nothing more than a slab of meat to him, a hole for him to abuse in his anger because you had fucked up.

“Oh, you stupid fucking slut,” he laughed, his teethed bared into a feral smirk. “You want this, huh. You want to please me any way I see fucking fit, fucking perfect. Turn around.”

There’s no room to argue or think; he turns you around without a second's notice. His hand shoving your chest into the wall, and you cry at the discomfort. He grabs your ass, pushing you uncomfortably into an arched position as he tears your pants down from your legs.

 “You’re a worthless fucking cumdump. Not even noon yet, and I’m going use your fucking body however I see fit.” Shinsou promises, fingers raking down your supple ass. Nails tearing into your skin, fingers slapping your covered cunt. “You worthless fucking slut, dirty fucking whore, already goddamn wet.”

“I’m n-not wet!” you cry, hips spasming against his rough hold, and slaps to your aching cunt. You know it’s a lie, you know that clear as day, but it doesn’t keep you from lying. Doesn’t stop you from shivering when he pinches at the cloth of your panties and removes them from your sopping wet folds.

“You think I don’t know if you’re wet or not?” Shinsou growled in warning, his fingers pinching together your soaked folds. An action that makes you cry loudly, the sharp pain too much for you. “You think I’m some fucking idiot?”

“N-No!” you cry, his fingers shifting to where your throbbing entrance is and his other hand going to your mouth, once again claiming your lips as his nails purposefully impose pain on your heated cunt. 

“You must think that since you’re lying to me,” he snaps, his mouth pressed to your ear, his hot breaths making your eyes roll to the back of your head. You want to speak up, say something, but his fingers are fucking your mouth, keeping you from speaking back. “But again, you aren’t fucking worth anything, are you? You’re not fucking anything.”

Those words whip against your skin, making you twist in his arms, hot tears pushing past your eyes again as you cry.

“Oh, you don’t like that?” Shinsou comments, his fingers pinching and pulling your tongue, and his hips begin to grind his hot, burning flesh into your ass. “Well, you better stop fucking crying because I’m not gonna stop until I’m fucking done — until I’m fucking relieved. This isn’t about you; this is for me. You aren’t shit, fucking worthless piece of shit whore.”

You sob into the brick wall, the tears unable to be stopped, unable to clear as his fingers that were scraping at your folds begin to fuck you at the same time as he fingers your mouth faster. The sensation of being outside, finger fucked in an alleyway by a Pro Hero you admired and respected beyond comparison, made you tremble with want and need. His cruel, completely degrading words a warm fire in your belly and against your skin. 

The sounds of the wet caverns he was currently fucking begin to echo in the wall, his throbbing cock grinding against your ass. It’s a sensation that makes you cry with need, your ass shifting back to feel him more, to get more from the contact he’s giving you.

“Of course some screwup like you likes this shit,” Shinsou grunted, his fingers fishing and rubbing against the spongy warmth of your walls, fingers scraping ever so gently against the velvetiness. You spasm against his touch, your whiney, pleasure-filled noises filling up the alleyway almost as loudly as the choking and the squelching of your pussy.

His hands suddenly leave your mouth, and you’re heaving at the deserted feeling in your mouth. You whip your head around, trying to see just why he had abandoned your mouth, desperate to please him more in any way he saw fit. But instead, you’re met with the sicky coldness of your saliva spread across your face. Almost instantly drying against your face as your still tear-soaked eyes looked into his dark ones.

“Don’t look so fucking sad, stupid cockslut,” Shinsou snapped, his hand that had been fucking your cunt abandoning your warmth and meeting your face. You whined, unable to come up with words as he spreads your slick against your face. A shiver wrecks your spine, a pathetic whimper at the smell, and the feel of the warm thickness of your slick. “You wanted this, fucking asked me to wreck your worthless holes.”

“I-I’m not sad,” you try to defend yourself, your body shaking as you feel the heated warmth of his cock suddenly between the curves of your ass. It presses heavily onto you, skin twitching and throbbing with its emitting warmth and simmering heat. 

Shinsou pauses, his eyes deadly and threatening as he glares at you. Unamusement heavy in his gaze, his mouth set in a small, teeth-baring snarl. “Then why the fuck are you crying? You think you deserve to be crying right now? No. You fucking worthless slut, you don’t. You ruined my damn shift, my damn case, I should be the one fucking crying. Your pathetic ass is worthless and tried to make my life the same, and that won’t fucking fly.”

The words tighten at your throat, your body trembling as tears continue to flow. His words are white-hot against your skin, and although it hurts to hear it, your cunt clenches in response, slicking even more.

His hand comes down suddenly onto your ass. The slap sharp and stinging, echoing loudly against the alleyway walls as you scream in pain. It throbs, your back contorting as you try to stretch the skin that makes you ache. But Shinsou spanks your ass again, without warning, his hand unmerciful against your soft, swelling flesh. You yelp again.

He spanks again, and again, and again. Each echoing action sending your voice screaming, counting them without even being told, succumbed to him and his every action and thought without needing to be. He spanks you until your ass feels raw and bloody, the bruises undoubtedly forming as he pinches the folds of your dripping cunt.

“Stick your ass out more,” he growls, tugging at the fold, making you stumble. The cock pressing onto the split of your ass feels heavy, and you twitch at the seeping pre-cum dripping onto your muscled rim. The bricks scratch at your face, and you find your ass wiggling out further from the wall, your back arched more as the cold wall sings through the clothes on your breast. “I’m not gonna put more fucking effort into fucking a goddamn worthless bitch than I should.”

And with that, your ass perfectly exposed for him to use and fuck. His throbbing cock presses through your pussy and slams all the way into you.

There were many pains you were used to as an aspiring hero. You were used to being punched, kicked, stabbed, thrown about, etc. Each of those pains were something you had been taught to make feel better, each pain demonstrated to you so that it wouldn’t be the thing that took you out. But there was no training for the way that his thick cock pressed through your impossibly tight entrance. There was no pain that could relate to the white fire of your rapidly fluttering entrance that was trying too hard to keep up with his slamming thick cock.

“IT HURTS!” you shriek, body twisting, tears flooding your cheeks as you feel weak in the legs. Body moments from falling. “It hurts so much! Please! It hurts!”

“Oh? It hurts? It's supposed to fucking hurt you fucking idiot, fucking whore,” Shinsou snapped in return, his hips firing into even faster than before. His massive body practically caving onto you as his cock rockets into you. Unforgiving, relentless, and with the drive to make him cum. Your vision swirls and spins as the pain reaches its peak, your mouth opening, your voice no longer working. But oh, how the saliva dripped from your mouth as his hands abandoned your waist to grab onto your stretched cheeks. He held onto your cheeks like some gag, slamming your head into his chest so your dazed eyes could stare up at him as his menacing gaze bore down on you. “You think this was supposed to make you feel good? I don’t give a shit if you cum. This is for me. I’m not fucking stopping until I’m done using you, so shut the fuck up.”

Your whimper is soft, no longer able to keep up with the pleasure your body begins to reach as the pain becomes one of pure bliss. Your eyes crossing as every thrust of his welcomed cock drives you further and further up the wall. The squelching of your meeting sexes almost sounds like a nursery rhyme. A pleasant noise that makes you giggle deliriously as Shinsou continues to degrade you continues to spout how insignificant you are.

“Your only purpose in your shit life is to be my fucking cumdump, fucking bitch, do you understand me?” Shinsou spat, his thrusting becoming barbaric, stammering in his power and speed. You laugh, your head nodding as you stare up at him with loving eyes, the drool and tears on your face trailing down your throat, soaking your uniform. “Tell me what your purpose is?”

“To be your cumdump!” you laugh, elation bubbling in your chest, fluttering deep around your cunt until you felt Shinsou’s teeth sink into your throat.

The feeling of hot, sticky cum expelling into your cunt feels like blistering euphoria, his heavy, rough breathing on your skin, making you moan softly. Your own orgasm hits, much softer, much more controlled than his as your walls clamp down like a vice around him. Your orgasm is warm, sounding deep within you that you almost didn’t realize you were dropped to the floor.

A soft, pitiful moan sounds from your lip, your eyes focused on Shinsou, who’s shoving his limp cock back into his pants, but his eyes are on the skyline.

“I-I’m sorry for messing up your… your case,” you rasp on the floor. 

Shinsou shifts on his feet, his gaze lingering longer onto the skyline before finally setting onto you. The anger seems to have disappeared, a look of slight boredom but the excitement in his eyes as he leans down over you. You feel breathless when his mouth presses against yours in a short, chaste kiss.

“I think you just helped me keep my cover, slut; maybe you do have some worth,” he laughed against your mouth.

He leaves you there, your body going limp and blackness taking over the moment he disappears.