#forgive me if this is utter trash. i tried

[e-wills-afterhours]

Hotblooded

A/N: Pairing is Hiccstrid. They are 17 here, almost 18. In most of my work, I write from the film-canon, almost exclusively. That means I don't often reference the shows or the graphic novels in my fics. That's NOT me saying they're not canon, as they have since been confirmed to be. It simply means I do a lot of AU oneshots where Hiccup and Astrid got together following the events of the first film, because it makes far more sense that way, for me personally.

This prompt request was for dripping sexual tension mutual pining between two very horny Viking teenagers.

Rating: T+ ...for suggestive themes and raging adolescent hormones.

------

Hiccup had no preconceived notions about what a relationship with Astrid Hofferson would be like from the outset. He certainly never expected the public kiss that had sealed the deal; he had been grateful enough at the time that she no longer hated him. Building their friendship had been the first step: the solid launch point from which the tide of their affections carried them to something better. If asked, that would not have been his answer on how romance evolved, but it was inarguably the preferable way--for them. They had laid the groundwork of respect and camaraderie, honesty and laughter, from which all other feelings had grown.

Before he knew it, they were two years in, and everything came easier. Finding them together, with their dragons alongside, was more common than finding them apart. Even though Hiccup preferred his privacy to the hustle and bustle of Berk's markets and the mead hall, he considered Astrid's company respite enough to wholeheartedly welcome it. Long gone were the days of nervous adolescent infatuation. In their place were the peace and calm of sure, steady love.

Astrid's playful punches and elbowing were less frequent too, though not entirely absent. Instead, she put her hands on him with shameless affection. Sometimes, he wished she'd revert to playful roughhousing--because public embraces and lingering touches gave rise to all manner of rumors.

Hiccup had heard it all: a myriad of insinuations about what he and Astrid supposedly did in their more private moments together. Snotlout and the twins, especially, liked to share their theories loudly and often. Hiccup suspected it was a game of sorts, to see just how slow to anger he really was. They had yet to break him, since he would often flee with palpable annoyance at the first opportunity. Fishlegs was more subtle, asking indirect questions that were wide open invitations for the truth, if either Hiccup or Astrid ever felt so inclined to share. But they never did. Everyone else assumed they already knew, and they would have been quite surprised to learn they were wrong.

The truth of the matter was he and Astrid did little more alone than they did in full view of everyone else--and it was not for a lack of desire on Hiccup's part. Enough restless sleeps had ended in sweaty, lurid dreams, that it was pointless to deny what his heart yearned for. He so desperately wanted the rumors to be true, and there were times when they had come dangerously close, saved only by Astrid's better judgment. He was thankful and annoyed that one of them had restraint. She was the more sensible one, never letting things go further than was prudent. So, he never pushed his luck.

Dragons and work in the forge were suitable outlets for his frustrations. He was seventeen, and much aware of how the years had changed him physically; he was aware of the changes to Astrid's body even more so. Ever since about the age of ten, he had realized that girls were mysterious, interesting, and pleasing to look at. That appreciation grew and matured with him. He used to catch Gobber's hand for staring after girls instead of working. Astrid had always captured his attention above all others--no; rather, she had commanded it. So, it was not simply a matter of him noticing for the first time, seven years later, how beautiful she really was; that was a fact he knew well. What he noticed, with nagging persistence, was just how well their bodies complemented each other, almost to the point of absurdity.

Even in that moment, as they shared a simple hug, he could feel it: a gnawing hunger at the warmth of her in his arms.

"Thank you," she murmured; and her breath on his ear gave him goosebumps he hoped she didn't notice. "You're the best."

She pulled back and picked up her axe from the workbench beside them. He lived for the smile she wore then; it lit up his whole day. Her eyes were bright as she admired the handle that he lovingly re-wrapped during the evening before.

The weapon was an heirloom, given to Astrid by her mother. It was her most prized possession, and so Hiccup took it upon himself to keep it in peak condition--because it was important to her; so, it was important to him. He noticed with his more discerning blacksmith's eye that it was showing its age, leather grip well-worn in places. Indeed, the axe was older than either of them. Astrid was not bothered by such things, as long as it remained functional. She had been perplexed when he asked her if he could borrow it for some maintenance, yet she trusted him enough hand it over.

"You even oiled it, didn't you?" she asked, grinning down at the polished wood.

He shrugged and replied, "I might've done that, yeah."

She glanced up at him, eyes practically twinkling. "It almost looks brand new!"

"That was the idea. Just because it's an older axe doesn't mean it needs to look that way. I thought...it was the least I could do."

She considered him for a moment, her broad, smile softening into something fonder. His heart always beat a little faster when she looked at him like that: as if he held the world together, like she did for him. She had the rougher edges and hard demeanor most of Berk knew her for; but there was a side to her that was his, alone.

Well, his--and maybe Stormfly's too.

"Why?" she asked, setting the axe back down gently, eyes fixed on him.

"Why, what?" he responded as she closed the small space between them, reaching up to play with a braid in his hair.

The simple gesture sent a tingle throughout his body. He wondered if she ever felt such things when he touched her: little bursts of delight at his hand on the small of her back. Did she also awake in the middle of the night, blood rushing hot to the thought of him? He never asked. If her answer was no, he'd feel like a sad, desperate fool; and perhaps he was, but she didn't need to know that.

She shook her head. "Why are you so amazing?"

"I-I'm not, though. It really was no trouble to--"

She silenced him with a finger to his lips. He was momentarily taken aback.

"Could you maybe, just once, shut up and take the compliment?" she teased. "I know, it's unnatural for you."

He laughed and took her hand in his, prying it away from his mouth. The urge to kiss her fingertips was too strong, and he did not trust where it might lead. He then grasped her other hand as well, loosely holding on to them both in the narrow space between their bodies, because it was safe. She gave his fingers a gentle squeeze and pulled him impossibly closer.

"I'll work on that," he said, stroking her knuckles with his thumbs.

She smirked--and then her eyes did a quick but conspicuous glance over him, from head to toe and back again. He knew what that meant, but he hardly dared to believe that she would. The temperature inside the smithy was rising, and it had nothing to do with the forge.

------

Astrid found it baffling that Hiccup had no idea how attractive he really was. Perhaps years of being the village oddball had conditioned him against seeing himself in any other light; she supposed it might have that effect on anyone. But she had certainly noticed how two short years had changed him. One summer was all that he needed to surpass her in height. He was broader too, in the chest and shoulders. Dragon riding only helped, bestowing upon him some enticing definition, augmented by the new confidence with which his carried himself. She was surprised he never seemed to notice her staring. Then again, he could be oblivious to a lot of things when he was otherwise engaged in a personal hobby. That was when she enjoyed watching him the most.

His eyes were particularly beautiful, and it was fascinating how intense they became when he was focused on a smithy project or a challenging dragon. She imagined, on occasion, what it might be like for him to look at her in the same unwavering manner--and her mind always wandered to improper places. Then, if she added in thoughts about his talented hands, which could build brilliant, intricate things and tame wild dragons...Well, she just about lost her senses completely.

The truth of the matter was that she wanted him badly. She heard the rumors and assumptions Berk made about them, but such things simply had not transpired. Yet. She had enough recurring fantasies of skin on skin that it became harder to pull herself away from him if she indulged even a little bit. He always seemed confused and disappointed when she'd abruptly scale back her affections before they grew too hot; but to his credit, he did not complain. Maybe he knew better. She was not sure she could resist a genuine plea from him; seldom did he ask her for anything.

To make matters worse, he was so effortlessly generous with his time and his skills, making or fixing things for her of his own volition. That particular morning, he surprised her with the restoration of her axe to the point it could have been mistaken as new. She was glad she chose to trust him with it, though he had never given her reason not to. Then he had the audacity to make himself more desirable by acting as though the whole thing no big deal.

So, they stood there with their hands clasped between them, because it was innocent enough. Astrid knew he would never accept any monetary payment for such a loving favor. She glanced him over, wondering if that same selflessness would translate into other area of their relationship still to be explored--and that time, he noticed her gaze. Something changed in his eyes: a hunger she recognized, if for no other reason than she felt it too.

He reached up and tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. Anyone else would have found the gesture innocuous, but there was something quite intentional in the way he did it--soft, unhurried. He was so tender and caring. She bit her lip, feeling her pulse quicken. He then caressed her cheek. His touch was far warmer than it had any right to be, and she could imagine it elsewhere on her body. Her eyes fluttered closed as she leaned into his hand with a quiet sigh.

"I really don't mind doing these things for you," he murmured, and she knew he meant restoring her axe, among countless other projects he had already done; but she wondered what else he might do for her if she only asked.

Curiosity toed the line of obsession. More of her waking hours were spent daydreaming about being with him in ways she ought not to be. Her reasons for holding off were never very strong, and they continued to dwindle.

With one hand, she continued to hold onto his. Her other hand came to his chest. The fabric of his tunic suddenly seemed far thicker than it was, keeping her from his bare skin. She grasped it in her fist, tugging slightly until he leaned down as she tilted her chin up. Their lips brushed, and her blood turned hot in an instant.

"Hiccup..." she whispered into their shared breath; she could almost taste him.

His hands came to her waist with a sense of urgency. She wrapped both of her arms around his neck. Her whole body thrummed with desire as they came together perfectly, her chest pressed against his; and she forgot why exercising restraint was such a good idea to begin with.

"I hope you know that I'd do anything for you," he said, "to show you what you mean to me."

Astrid did not think he was talking about favors in the smithy anymore. Common sense kept her from tearing at his clothes then; it was not the proper thing. The timing was not quite right to take the leap--but that did little to diminish her need to know just how good he felt. He had no idea how much he had chipped away her resolve just being wonderfully and unapologetically him. She wondered if his own self-control teetered on the same knife's edge. It was getting harder to breathe when the scent of him overwhelmed her every time she inhaled.

She threw better judgment to the wind and whispered, "What if I asked you for something I shouldn't?"

He leaned down, like he was making a second attempt to kiss her. He replied, in a distinctly huskier tone, "Then, I would have to--"

Loud, shrill banging shattered the moment. They yelped and pulled apart with their hands clapped over their ears, glancing around for the source of the earsplitting interruption.

Gobber was standing nearby, pounding against an empty anvil with his hammer attachment, looking positively surly. He glared beneath his bushy unibrow, metal tooth jutting out from his scowl.

When he was sure he caught their attention, he exclaimed, "There will be none of that in my shop! Take it someplace else!"

Hiccup frowned and replied, "Must you do that?" He gestured at the anvil, which Gobber then struck a couple more times for good measure.

"Must you do that?" the older man retorted, brandishing a thick finger at the two of them, still standing much too close for his liking.

Astrid's face burned with both embarrassment and indignation. She cleared her throat and made a spectacle of picking up her axe, checking to see if Gobber was watching--mostly, so he would shut up and back off. The man could be endearing; he could also be intrusive and incorrigible.

She said, in her mildest manner, "Thank you for the axe, Hiccup. It was very thoughtful."

Her boyfriend cast an irritable sidelong glance at his mentor and replied, "Yes. The axe. Of course." He added, smoothing out his tunic, "Anytime."

Satisfied, the blacksmith went back to work, grumbling all the while about teenaged indiscretion and something about "dragons in heat."

When he hobbled off, out of sight, Astrid said in a hushed voice, "We'll finish our conversation later."

She placed a quick peck on Hiccup's cheek before turning to leave.

"Wait. What do you mean by 'finish'?" he asked, standing straighter.

She spun around, walking backward out of the smithy with her axe in hand. "Soon."

He caught her meaning, anticipation and hope dawning on his face. "Soon? How soon?"

She shook her head, mainly because she did not have a real answer for him. "I'll see you later!"

"Wait, Astrid!" he called, almost following her out of the smithy. He lingered in the doorway. "How soon?"

She waved noncommittally and headed for home. With the thrill of her promise to him guiding her steps, she felt just a little lighter. Their conversation would find its conclusion, in one form or another. No, she did not expect they'd prove the rumors true that day, or even in the immediate few thereafter. But what she did know for certain was that she still owed him a kiss, which would lead to one thing, that would inevitably lead to others. She could see it on the horizon, and she could feel the desire inside them burning. While the number of days or weeks was yet unknown, the very nature of their relationship was turning with the seasons.

So, Astrid was willing to make a wager with herself: she and Hiccup would have carnal knowledge of each other by winter's end. What else were they to do? Young, in love, and incredibly hotblooded.

[acourtofthought]

Love - SJM Style

Obviously the actual falling in love part is amazing but before her characters get to that point, we have a lot of this:

Rowaelin -

You are a child, and a spoiled one at that. And,” he said, those green eyes holding nothing but distaste, “you are a coward.”

And then she said one of the foulest things she’d ever uttered in her life, bathing in the pure hate of it. “Fae like you make me understand the King of Adarlan’s actions a bit more, I think.”

“First thing,” he breathed, “we’re not friends. I’m still training you, and that means you’re still under my command.”

Chaol / Yrene -

You didn’t seem to mind the privileges that came when you snapped your fingers and Kashin ran here. Perhaps he’ll grow tired of you stringing him along.”

“You’d be surprised the people that opiate makes you consider. Who you’ll find yourself willing to sully yourself with.”

“Did she pick Dorian, then? The queen. I’m surprised she could stomach either of you, given your history. What your kingdom did to hers.”

“Yet you were assigned to me because your Healer on High saw otherwise. Saw that no matter how high you climbed in that tower, you’re still that girl in Fenharrow.” A laugh came out of him, icy and bitter. “I knew another woman who lost as much as you. And do you know what she did with it—that loss?” He could barely stop the words from pouring out, could barely think over the roar in his head. “She hunted down the people responsible for it and obliterated them. What the hell have you bothered to do these years?”

Aedion / Lysandra -

She knew Aedion would agree to the plan, even if he still hated her.

“You can go to hell,” Aedion snapped. “You can go to hell, you lying bitch!”

Lorcan / Elide -

Aelin had been brutalized, their very location betrayed by Lorcan to Maeve, and still he tried to follow. Right through the sand still wet with Aelin’s blood.

Elide let out a soft, vicious laugh. “Of course you didn’t. Why would you have intended for your wondrous queen to sever the blood oath?”

Lorcan blinked at the words, the hatred in them, stunned enough that he let her walk past this time. Elide didn’t so much as look back.

“The only thing that I am jealous of, Lorcan, is that she is rid of you.”

“I’m sorry,” he repeated. But Elide’s face did not warm. “I don’t care,” she said, turning on her heel. “And I don’t care if you walk off that battlefield tomorrow.”

“I have never heard Lorcan apologize for anything. Even when Maeve whipped him for a mistake, he did not apologize to her.” “And that means he earns my forgiveness?”

Quinlar -

“She’s a spoiled party girl. What did you expect?” “She’s not stupid, Hunt,” Isaiah countered. “Everything I’ve seen and heard suggests otherwise.”

His teeth flashed. “I don’t care what you call me, Quinlan, so long as you do what you’re told.” Fucking alphahole. “Immortality is a long time to have a giant stick up your ass.”

Feysand -

Rhysand ran an eye over me. “I knew you liked to stoop low with your lovers, Lucien, but I never thought you’d actually dabble with mortal trash.” My face burned.

Even as he said my most private thoughts, even as I burned with outrage and shame, I trembled at the grip still on my mind.

I stared at him, sending as much hate as I could into my gaze. He’d been the one who’d caused all this. He’d told Amarantha about Clare; he’d made Tamlin beg.

I bared my teeth. “Go. To. Hell.” Swift as lightning, he lashed out, grabbing the shard of bone in my arm and twisting. A scream shattered out of me, ravaging my aching throat. The world flashed black and white and red. I thrashed and writhed, but he kept his grip, twisting the bone a final time before releasing my arm. Panting, half sobbing as the pain reverberated through my body, I found him smirking at me again. I spat in his face.

“Don’t get me started on what you did to me Under the Mountain.”

“I didn’t ask for your approval.”

“I think we can agree that I owe you nothing, and you owe me nothing.”

“I’m not your enemy, Feyre.” “Tamlin says you are.” I curled the fingers of my tattooed hand into a fist. “Everyone else says you are.” “And what do you think?” He leaned back in his chair again, but his face was grave. “You’re doing a damned good job of making me agree with them.”

“No, because it’s so much easier to pretend it never happened and let them coddle you.”

“Luck? Yes, how lucky for you,” I said quietly, but not weakly, “that the rest of Prythian was ravaged while your people, your city, remained safe.”

His laugh was bitter, soft. “I thought so. Perhaps you should take some time to figure that out one of these days.”

“At least I let them see who I am, broken bits and all. Yes—it’s to save your people. But what about the other masks, Rhys? What about letting your friends see your real face? But maybe it’s easier not to. Because what if you did let someone in? And what if they saw everything, and still walked away? Who could blame them—who would want to bother with that sort of mess?”

Nessian -

“What are you looking at?” Cassian’s brows rose—little amusement to be found now. “Someone who let her youngest sister risk her life every day in the woods while she did nothing. Someone who let a fourteen-year-old child go out into that forest, so close to the wall.” “Your sister died—died to save my people. She is willing to do so again to protect you from war. So don’t expect me to sit here with my mouth shut while you sneer at her for a choice she did not get to make—and insult my people in the process.”

“If that’s what a bastard-born Fae warrior can do, no wonder my sister has become so entangled with the High Lords.” Bitch. Bitch for the insult to him and to Feyre. “Did it bother you more that you wanted it, or that it was a bastard-born nobody who made you feel such things, Nesta?” “It’s been a long winter. Beggars can’t be picky, I suppose.”

What did he care? What did he care? He had enough shit to deal with.

“And what do you deserve?” A slow smile, indeed a plains-cat readying for the kill. Then, “Certainly more than a bastard-born nobody.” Bitch. “What a fne partner you are, Nesta. Remind me to bring a book on military strategy the next time. Maybe you’ll stand a chance then.” A cold, fat look. “It’s easier, isn’t it,” Cassian breathed, crossing the distance again, not caring who saw them standing in the bay window “To wield the words and the coldness as armor to keep everyone from seeing where and who you failed and how you did not care until it was too late.”

Only hatred gleamed in her eyes.

“Well, I see it, Nesta Archeron. And all I see is a bored and spoiled girl—”

“Is it Nesta?” “Not everything in my life is about your sister, you know.”

Nesta had made it clear enough she had no interest in Cassian—not even in being in the same room as him.

“I’ve made my thoughts clear enough on what I want from you.”

He didn’t know why the hell he cared. Why he’d bothered.

She’d made it clear enough in those initial days after that last battle that she wanted nothing to do with him.

“I was dragged into this world of yours, this court.” “Then go somewhere else.”

“Stop following me. Stop trying to haul me into your happy little circle. Stop doing all of it.”

“Your sisters love you. I can’t for the life of me understand why, but they do. If you can’t be bothered to try for my happy little circle’s sake, then at least try for them.”

“You think I can’t hear that male in your bedroom, trying to quietly put on his clothes and sneak out the window?”

Elucien are coming along quite nicely -

“You betrayed us.”

Her eyes went frank and cold. “I was to be married in a few days.”

“She wants nothing to do with me.” / And as for here …” He shook off my grip and headed for the door. “I can’t stand to be in the same room as her for more than two minutes.

“You couldn’t say a single word to him? A pleasant greeting?”

“He brought you a present.” Those doe-brown eyes turned toward me. Sharper than I’d ever seen them. “And that entitles him to my time, my affections?”

“Where’s Elain?” “I am not always in this city to see my mate.” The last two words dripped with discomfort.

[victusinveritas]

I could forgive a lot of things from Pete because I knew his folks and however tangentially, him (my sister was in high school FedChallenge with him and he was over fairly frequently for a few years), growing up in South Bend. He also wasn't a dogshit mayor (despite Smart Streets and some utter mishandling of various issues, but that's inside South Bend politics), and some of the things he has tried to do as Secretary of Transportation have been good...because that fucker loves trains, always has been disturbingly passionate about them. Growing up a block away from him, I get it, the sounds of the trains at night were a lullaby in our very much middle class/upper middle class neighborhood.

Anyhow, aside from all that shit, any past vague acquaintance or how friendly he's always been to my folks, I wish him nothing but cracked teeth and unfitting shoes for the rest of his existence for this comment. If you want to read the appropriately damning article from Jacobin (admittedly a partisan source, but one his father, an avowed Gramscian and hell of a fun guy, would have supported--the arguments they would get into with Joe supporting anarchosocialist views and Pete the most bland Liberal Democratic stuff imaginable often carried when walking the dog near their house, once my father and I even got roped in to refereeing one.) here you are.

Basically, he said that as regrettable as it is, keeping baby formula in stock is not the job of the US government, and then went on to defend the free market at quite possibly the worst time to defend the free market. All an opponent would need to do to win is say "I believe we should feed babies." And they would get 75% of the vote and probably their head on a coin. He could have said "Yeah, this is the price we pay for the free market and it is why some more regulation is really necessary so this will never happen again and also this country could end world hunger with just 40 billion bucks but instead we do everything but that and spend fuck tons on the military and giving tax breaks to billionaires because of outdated and never helpful Reaganite theories of economics..." He could have said anything else, but he didn't. He had to pick the most soulless (he is unique among the gay community in his lack of dancing skills unless he has somehow gotten better through lessons in DC that his husband, an absolute shite who couldn't even get a good autobiography ghostwritten, made him take) and neoliberal take. Pardon me while I vomit bile onto this Buttigieg 2020 election poster I've been meaning to trash for the last four years. He's the living embodiment of Rainbow Capitalism.

I'd vote for him over Trump (not that I've ever really thought he could win, he's simply too nerdy and rat-faced and gay, which is simply not a winning combination--none of these things would stop me from voting for him, but again, he's got a snowball's chance in hell of winning anything if he was ever nominated), but I'd also be out there in front of the White House holding the quote above with a sign on it every damn day he was in office.

Alright, rant over.

[the-original-skipps]

|| A Heart Left Behind. || Wind Breaker Reactions ||

*smacks lips* it was getting a little too fluffy around here lol

please read PART 1 first before this one!

CW: angst. mentions of violence, injury, blood, suicide, hallucinations. character death.

: Sakura Haruka. Suo Hayato. Nirei Akihito. Umemiya Hajime. Kaji Ren. Endo Yamato.

"We are sorry to inform you, but the patient has unfortunately passed away."

❥ Sakura could feel his entire world crumbling, with each fragment a piece of you. The voices of the doctor, the people around him fading away like distant noise. His vision blurs, confused; Sakura reaches to lightly brush over his surprisingly wet cheek. Oh, they're tears. The doctor could only look at the poor boy sympathetically, before being jerked forward in surprise. As tears flow endlessly, Sakura grabs a fist full of the doctor's pristine white coat. He shouts in confusion and anger - unbelieving of the words just uttered. You couldn't possibly be gone. You promised that you'd take him to the aquarium next week, you promised him you'd let him taste the cookies you tried to bake. Despite all the promises made you’re gone now; forever out of his reach and it was all his fault. With realization, regrets start bubbling within him as his arms fall limply to his side. Thinking about all the times he could have spent with you. He should have hugged you more, told you that you were truly beautiful and kissed you each time like it was going to be the last. It should have been him. Just as you’ve given him a reason to live, now you’ve gone and taken it with you.

“T-Tell me, how am I supposed to live w-without you...?”

❥ Suo remembers the vivid moment, when the doctor told him the news that changed everything. He remembers smiling and thanking the doctor for trying their best, even though his heart felt like it had just been ripped out and his mind sank into darkness. He also remembers when he stood amongst a sea of blood and bodies as the darkness fully consumed him. Sakura and Nirei look onwards with shock and despair, powerless in trying to stop him. The ones who've hurt you in a state of near death but why didn't he feel satisfied? Only when Nirei screamed that you'd never be happy seeing him like this, does the realization hit. When you've left, you've left a hole in his chest where his heart was supposed to be that could never be filled again. Now, he stands in front of your grave - a bouquet of flowers he arranged personally for you. A bouquet of purple lilies, anemones and white chrysanthemums which symbolizes grief and eternal love. He promises for as long as he still lives, he'll atone for the fact he couldn't save you. When he sees you again, does he still deserve to be hugged like you used to?

"Until we meet again, my love."

❥ Nirei doesn't remember the last time he left his room. A room filled with mountains of rubbish, discarded ramen cups, empty water bottles and other miscellaneous trash and he sits in the middle of it. His precious notebook is forgotten beneath everything. Ever since you died, Nirei couldn't find the passion nor the will to live. Suo, Sakura and all his classmates tried their best to pull him back up but it was all worthless. If it isn't your hand that pulls him back up. Your memory haunts him in this empty room, with each one bringing him to tears - his chest unbearably tight. He rocks himself from side to side as tears flood his eyes, clutching his head in his hands whispering assurances to himself. The weight of your death prevented him from rising, after all it was his fault it happened. Sometimes he swears he could hear you in this very room, belittling him and spitting insults. Most of all blaming him for the reason behind your death. It's unbearable, when will it stop? A thought flashes in his mind that has him briefly smiling. Maybe there is a solution to forever escape from the pain.

"I-If I die, will you forgive me...?"

❥ Umemiya smiles as he looks down at his work. A patch of broccolis growing big and green, he reaches over and lightly touches them. Imagine the look of excitement you'd have at seeing your favorite vegetables. Until a grim thought crosses his mind that sets a frown on his face. You’ve passed away. The memory has his fists clenched and eyes burning in trying to hold back tears that threaten to spill. Only when he hears Hiragi clear his throat from behind him, does Umemiya snap out of his thoughts. Pulling himself together, he brightly smiles at his trusted friend - thanking him for coming but what he says next has Hiragi in utter shock. With his eyes fixed on your favorite vegetables and a sad smile on his face. Umemiya states that he will no longer hold the position of Bofurin's leader and the position will be passed onto Hiragi instead. Shocked and enraged Hiragi pulls Umemiya forward with a fist full of his white shirt, demanding he take back his words but the longer Hiragi stares at his friend he realizes. That the once bright eyes no longer shined, only reflecting emptiness back to him.

"I couldn't protect (Y/N), I can longer be trusted to protect everyone."

❥ Kaji stands, leaning casually against a chain fence with his usual headphones to his ears, a song playing - a blank stare on his face. Enomoto comes running panting with Kusumi following close behind. Enomoto's eyes widen in shock at the scene in front of him. His class leader sitting, his fists bloodied - a spread of unconscious bodies surrounding him. Kaji doesn't even look at his friends, ignoring them as he properly stands - brushing past them to walk away until Enomoto stops him with a hand to his shoulder. As the hand touches Kaji's shoulder, a switch happens - he angrily swats his friend's hand away. Enomoto and Kusumi stood in shock, the look on Kaji's face was the same face he used to have years ago. His usual blue eyes swirling with sadness and rage. A deep emptiness infixed within him. Ever since you died, he no longer knew he was or who to be anymore. Your guiding hand no longer extended towards him. Enomoto tries talk some sense into his friend that what he was doing was wrong but Kaji answers back with only shouts colored in anger. The sudden movement knocks Kaji's headphones from his head. A familiar song played from the device, Enomoto and Kasumi knew it well. It was your favorite song.

"Don't you get it?! T-This is the only way I can feel something!"

❥ Endo stares up into the bright full moon, as he sits on a swing. The deserted playground he's at is quiet, with only the whispers of the wind. He looks to a swing beside him. He can see the ghost of your figure sitting on it, asking him if he could push you. At the vision, a smile creeps upon Endo's face - you look so happy and beautiful calling out to him. Unconsciously, he reaches a hand out towards you, only to brush against nothing. The image of you disappearing like sand to the wind. It often happens, a memory of you attached to everything around him - that's how much he sees you even when you’re gone. He believes that he sees you but only to meet with disappointment and a blank space where you used to be. On nights where he's left to his own thoughts, the image of you becomes clearer as if you were really there. He swears you spoke to him with your usual sweet voice and he happily replied back. He doesn't want to accept that you're gone, his entire being rejecting the notion but deep down inside he knows that you’re truly gone from this world. Even if he knows that they're only illusions created by his own mind, it's the only way he won't succumb to the loneliness of your absence. Maybe one day, when he reaches out to you he’ll actually get to touch your soft skin again. Until then he’ll keep reaching out to you.

"When will you come to see me again, (Y/N)?"

[aajjks]

This one’s a huge rant, pls forgive 🙏

The idol didn’t even make sense from start till finish if I were being honest. The show was 90% sex. That ain’t a bad thing, tho jos & tedros we’re getting freaky every 2min & all of that was so unnecessary? Every ep was of 1 hr but there was barely any plot in there. I think they tried to throw in every plot point that held some potential in a haphazard manner which ruined it entirely, if the weeknd’s terrible acting wasn’t enough. The last ep looked like it was literally cropped down & so many things like Ron’s scandal etc were just brushed off in brief moments coz they decided it’s nice to have almost 30-min music session cum strip dance show to woo the event manager guy. And one thing that’s so twisted is representation of jos. She goes from being a victim in 75% of the story only to have everything back at her being the bad guy? It didn’t sit right w me coz Sam literally tried to justify Tedros’ misdeeds for Jos’ two faced character.

Jen very well knew what the show was seeking for coz she herself admits it was Sam who roped her into her role despite many of her fans trying to say “she was a poor soul who doesn’t know what the show was trying to achieve🥺” it’s utter bs. Ig she thought this was good way to open into the Hollywood glamour but she literally went ahead to stamp on her persona for this 2secs of popularity & ended up getting trashed with hate. I think she should’ve read the script with a bit more sense tbh. Now her fans already raging with this victimisation narrative it’s sick to see. Anyhow still stand strongly against the sl^tshaming she faced, but her acting even in her small role was not up to the mark. She looked constipated the entire time. Jisoo aced her role in snowdrop coz she trained as an actress for a while & that showed. Ig K-pop idols should not step into acting unless they actually know how to act or have taken some acting lessons. Some of them are good at everything despite having no experience but exceptions don’t rule the world at the end of the day :3

Yeah like there is a huge problem with sam, like the male lead was the villain but then bam! the female lead is the real villain all along, like for eg: the case of Nate & Cassie? + now joss & tedros?

and like the shows plot had so much potential to be fair but they had to ruin it, especially with the finale, but I loved Troyes character, sm.

And I don’t know what to say about Jennie, good for her ig? But the show only ruined her reputation, but here’s one thing I don’t get, why did Jennie receive so much criticism and hate whole Lilly didn’t or any other female actor in the show?

[solarissantaella]

The Weight of 2020

When did it start? The first time you put on a mask, fabric trapping your breath? The first day of quarantine, when you gazed out the window at streets so barren, it was like everyone was already dead? The first time you heard the phrase ‘novel coronavirus’, before ‘novel’ became ‘new normal’? Or was it when you realized the pandemic was a string of firsts with no lasts? If the story of sickness has no beginning, how can you expect it to end?

Sometimes, it starts with a whisper– start small, skip breakfast. I hear it many times before I listen. You know you’re sick when a fever spikes, but the virus was waiting within you for days, even weeks. You were carrying the disease all along. 

High temperature. Shortness of breath. Lunches emptied into the trash, untouched. I can get away with it; I eat alone. I was quarantined before it was cool. I sit in silence as my body burns, wishing the flames would devour me faster. Loss of appetite, loss of taste. It’s not so different, after all. 

Nausea, vomiting– the same nights hunched over, heave and splatter. Is it the sickness, or is it me?  Did I choose this? I didn’t catch it. I guess that makes it my fault. As I empty myself of all that I am– you are what you do not eat– I feel her watching from the mirror. 

An issue of self-image– the self and the image refuse to be joined. They are much more than a hyphen apart, lacking the quickness of Covid-19, uttered in a single hushed breath. Self. Image. Illness isolates; you become well-acquainted with the separate self. 

Rising numbers. Flatten the curve. Fear is a line graph angling steeply toward an unseen zenith, stolen moments of normalcy shattered by too much, too much, too much! It haunts me, like the silence that falls after a cough in the supermarket, the cessation of safety, sanity. The resuming clatter of carts cannot lighten air left leaden, laden. 

When you’re sick, you want to get well. I don’t want to be well; I want to be nothing. I don’t want to rest, drink water, breathe. What I really want is to erase myself, but there’s no escape from the grotesqueness of flesh, the ghoul in the mirror. 

It’s not my body—all the forgiveness I do not have weighs on me. If there was ever a time to forget compassion, it would be now. You expect, somewhere between the hoarding and hysteria, for the mask of humanity to slip. I expected it, in my animal brain of hurts and hungers, but I was proven wrong. 

A week after the graduation I never had, I tried to carry a box. It was light, but I was weak, and getting to the post office, half a mile from my shell of a dorm room, was more than I could bear. 

It wasn’t just the box. It was the gaping windows, lifeless eyes in the ruins of buildings still standing; Van Hise, where the elevators skipped floors 2-5; the humanities building, a concrete maze; the English building, where I should have gone to the award ceremony senior year, but the one year I won, the whole world lost. It was all the detritus of my former life suspended around me that made my task unbearable. 

I was painfully aware of my tight breath, aching back, trembling hands. Trembling– what I was doing felt more violent, like tearing myself apart. My hands shook for hours afterward, but when I found myself collapsing under the weight of 2020, I dropped my box, and two girls picked it up. We were in a pandemic, but they saw my suffering body and rushed to its aid when I only ever saw myself as an adversary, an illness. To them, I was human. 

So, I went to the hospital. My disease was not the one on anyone's lips, least of all mine. Even then, I was alone in the deepest way, too sick to be contagious. I wished I could have coughed to spread my pain. I laid there, staring at white ceilings, quarantined in my own head. 

Recovery. For some, illness spends itself in days. In others, it lingers for months, years. Healing never happens all at once, in a moment of truth, the second we choose to get better. How do you know when you’re finally well? How do you know when the pandemic’s over? 

How do you vaccinate for anorexia?

[mary-ann84]

My turn again to write a little something for @cavillsthighs christmas challenge 😊

It's the 5th day of the Cavillmas. Today's prompt is Ice Skating.

Characters: Geralt x reader. Jaskier makes an appearance as well.

Words: 1.030

Warnings: none

The Witcher and his bard find shelter from the cold.

🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲

Winter has come to the continent. The blistering cold and heavy snow made traveling even more harder than usual.

Jaskier suggested they would seek shelter when they reached the next town. And stay there for a long period of time. At least till the roads cleared up a bit.

Geralt may not have always agreed with him but this time he did. 

But where would they stay? By the time they would get there the inn would not have any rooms left. Staying at a brothel was tempting. He could use some female company. But for that amount of money they could stay at the for a week. 

When he uttered those words to Jaskier he simply said.

"Have no fear my friend, for I know a place where we can stay and it won’t cost us a penny"

Geralt gave him a questionable look. 

“I’m sure you do, Jaskier. But forgive me if I dekline. I do not want to stay at someone else's house with the risk of us getting kicked out, because you slept with someone else, their wife.”

“Why Geralt. How dare you make such an assumption! Y/n is nothing more than a friend of mine. This is an insult if I ever heard one!”

Geralt rolled with his eyes. 

“A friend?”

“Yes Geralt, a friend. I am capable of having a friendship with a woman that does not entail any form of physical intimacy.”

Geralt just stared at Jaskier. Like he did not believe him. 

“I believe you can. But are you telling me that she is just a friend and nothing more?”

“Well yes. Not that I didn’t try. Geralt, why are you laughing!? 

“Just picturing you being turned down, that's all.” Geralt said. 

“Come Jaskier, let's find your friend so we can get out of this cold. 

And off they went. 

That all happened two weeks ago. 

When they found your house you welcomed them with open arms. 

Geralt saw the interaction between you and Jaskier, which was like how siblings would interact with each other. 

And for some reason that he felt relieved. From the moment he laid eyes on you he was mesmerized. He found himself constantly drawn to you. 

He helped out where he could. Not just for that reason but also he thought that if they didn’t have to pay for lodging he should do something. 

Jaskier noticed his friend’s odd behavior. And found it somewhat amusing. 

Whenever you were not around he would rub it in Geralt's face.

Not just to tease him but to find out how true Geralt’s feelings were for you, because he could tell you felt the same way. 

You and Geralt found yourself staying up late talking. Well you talked and he listened. But every so often he would tell you about him, his travels, how he met Jaskier. He felt comfortable opening up to you.

Then one day you asked if Jaskier and Geralt wanted to help out with organizing a little get together with the people from town at the nearby lake. It was frozen solid and they decided to go ice skating. 

Jaskier was excited and said yes right away. Geralt needed to be persuaded. He was not so keen on ice skating. Also he was not looking forward to having to interact with people that looked at him like he was trash.  

But he could not refuse you when you looked at him with your big eyes and said please. 

So here they are at the frozen lake. It was cold but it was bearable. He stood at the side all the while watching you and Jaskier skating on the ice. 

The smile on your face warmed his heart. You looked absolutely beautiful. But he also felt a bit jealous. Especially when Jaskier took your hand. He knew there was nothing going on, he  couldn't help himself. 

However when one of the townsmen stepped on the ice to skate with you he decided that it was enough. He bound the skates to his feet and stepped on the ice. 

He tried very hard not to fall. And succeeded to get where you were pretty easily. Which thankfully was not that far away. 

You noticed him before the man in question did and smiled. 

“Hello, Geralt.” You said. 

At the mention of his name the man turned around and his face turned pale. He apologized and left. 

Geralt kept an eye on the man and did not notice you were reaching for his hand until he felt your hand in his. He looked down and if you didn’t know better you could have sworn he blushed. 

At the same time Jaskier raced towards you so fast that he wasn’t able to stop in time and he knocked the both of you down. 

Geralt moved so that he broke your fall. You had closed your eyes to brace yourself for impact, but found that what you landed on was not cold and hard. But warm and soft.  Well at least softer than the ice. 

You opened your eyes and immediately looked into his eyes. Now it was your time to blush. 

“Are you ok? You are not hurt are you?” he asked. 

Shaking your head no, you both stood up. 

He placed his hand on your cheek to check if you truly were alright. Asking if you wanted to go off the ice or if, perhaps, you wanted to skate with him.

This was the last thing you expected. He didn’t expect it either. But he truly wanted to. 

Your eyes shined and you smiled when you answered him.

“I would love that Geralt.”

And with that he grabbed your hand, intertwined his fingers with yours and set off to skate on the lake until you lost the light and went back home.

While sitting in front of the fire you spend another late night together. Only this time it was in each other's arms. 

[alpacaparkaseok]

Pairing: doctor!Jungkook x reader (ok, technically clinical technician!Jungkook lol)

Wordcount: 1.6k

Genre/Rating: Fluff! strangers to friends to a lil’ more 👀👀

Tags/Warnings: mentions blood just for a moment (when talking about JK’s work). shouldn’t be anything too crazy, Jungkook is just your annoying new neighbor that sings abnoxiously loud in the shower. oh, and did I mention that the two of you share a wall? 

a/n: You wonderful, beautiful people! This post is a commission for the ARMY for AAPI Justice and Advocacy Event. Please click here to find more resources and consider donating to the cause! And THANK YOU @ezralia-writes for commissioning this! *insert round of applause and flowers* I hope you enjoy!

April 23rd

You should’ve known it was too good to be true.

You’d been living in utter bliss for the past six months, having moved across the city to a relatively quiet part of town. You had a neighbor; you were sure of it. Had seen their car in the parking lot too many times to not have one.

It’s just, you never heard them. Let alone saw them.

Which was completely fine. The loud, obnoxious lifestyle people usually adopted in a city as bustling as Seoul had never suited you anyway. For six months, you basked in the glorious silence from your next door neighbor. The only signal that you ever got that they were even there was the occasional time you’d both be showering at the same time. Your bathrooms shared a wall, which you tried to ignore. Thankfully, your neighbor seemed to ignore it as well.

So why is there a man suddenly belting out I Will Always Love You as though performing a one-man tribute to Whitney Houston?

The sound of his booming voice nearly knocked you off your feet as you made quick work of shaving your legs. Surely he must have heard your shower running! Can’t a woman get some peace and quiet on a Friday morning?! There’s nothing to celebrate yet!

You even make a point of clearing your throat loud enough to be heard on the other side of the wall, but he doesn’t falter in his loud, albeit dazzling, rendition of the song. He pauses for a second, giving you just enough time to let out a sigh of relief and begin on your other leg.

Leg soapy and ready to be shaved, you make it halfway through one swipe before the singing starts up again.

He only paused to switch songs. Whitney Houston tribute over, he begins a passionate ode to Adele’s greatest hits.

“What did I do to deserve this?” You sigh, resolving to finish up before the song is over and you’re subjected to another.

May 1st

           It begins innocently enough. After a week of subjecting you to his siren-like voice, there’s a knock on your door. Of course, you assume it’s the food you’d ordered, so you just finish throwing your sweatshirt on before wrenching the door open.

           “Hey,” you look up to tell the deliverer that you just need to grab your wallet, but your mouth runs dry at the sight before you.

           Grinning with a friendly smile that might be a bit of overkill, a boy – nah, a whole man if we’re being honest here – gives you a sheepish wave. His long brown hair is falling into his eyes, which he meticulously brushes off to the side.

           “Hey! You must be my neighbor!” When you keep staring at him with what you hope is a look of neutrality, he flushes a deep red. “I- er, I mean, obviously. That was kind of dumb of me…”

           “You’re not the food guy?” It’s the only you can think to say, willing your eyes to focus in on his face and not the way his sweatshirt and sweats look on him. “Uh…I mean, yeah. Neighbors.”

           The man before you lets out an adorable chuckle at your silly comment. “Oh, good. I’m not the only awkward one here.”

           “Woah! I’m not awkward! I’m just hungry!” You cry out, making him only laugh harder.

           “I’m Jungkook, by the way,” he says, nose crinkling as you look at him with wide eyes. So this is what was on the other side of the wall, belting out Mariah Carey this morning. “I just moved in last week, and realized that I haven’t even come over to say hello. You know, like a friendly neighbor should.”

           “Hey, Jungkook.” You look around, wondering if there’s anyone else outside witnessing this incredibly awkward first meeting. “I, uh, well…I’m me.”

           He snorts. “Yeah, I know. I’m assuming your name is the one on the mailbox? Next to mine?”

           We have mailboxes??

           “Oh, ha! Yeah, that’d be it.” You shuffle back and forth on your feet, unsure of what to say next. “Well, I thought you were the delivery service-“

           “I just delivered food, too!” Jungkook says with a grin. He runs his hands up and down his arms even though it’s not cold outside. “I was thinking that…you know, we could eat together? I actually ended up ordering extra, but it looks like that wasn’t necessary.”

           You grin, settling against your doorframe. “Ah, so you’re here to woo me with takeout? You should’ve just said so.”

           It looks like Jungkook’s considering moving again. He swallows thickly, eyes flitting over to you before staring down at your floor. “Actually…I heard you watching TV…were you watching Wanda Vision?” When you nod, he sucks in a breath. “It’s just, I haven’t bought a TV yet, and-“

          “Oh, tough luck. Good luck with that.” You burst out into a fit of giggles at the tentative look in his eyes. Silently forgiving him for all those mornings that doubled as musicals over the past week, you wing the door open a little wider and gesture for him to come inside. “Come in, I need someone to bounce theories off anyways.”

           That’s all it takes before Jungkook is bounding inside, settling down on your couch with an air of comfortability that seems so at odds with his shy nature. Then again, everything about him seems to contradict his shy smile.

           You like it.

June 2nd

What originally started as a simple friendship; Jungkook brought food and you let him have the remote; quickly turned into constant interaction. You learned that he had a roommate that was hardly ever home named Taehyung. He has a brother that he visits every other month. He works as clinical technician, but he’s known more for his beautiful voice more than his title as doctor.

Apparently he was known in the lab for singing little lullabies to the glass flasks containing different samples of blood and other fluids, even occasionally chatting with them as though they were avidly listening.

The more you learned, the more you really wished your old neighbor never moved out in the first place. Especially as you slipped on some shoes to take out the trash one night only to run face first into a familiar chest.

“Jungkook,” you groan, rubbing your nose and peeking up at the boy-like grin he wears. “What was that for?“

You step around him, closing the door to your apartment and heading down the stairs to where the dumpsters were located. “My bad. I was just about to knock.”

He matches your stride, hair whipping about in the wind. You realize that he’s wearing his lab coat, making you furrow your brows. “Aren’t you supposed to leave that at the lab?” You ask, pointing to the white coat.

Jungkook pouts, looking down at his coat as though just remembering that he was still wearing it. “Oh, well I have to wash it, you know. I brought it home with me today.”

“Ok…but why are you still wearing it?” You give him a half-smile as he reaches to open the lid to the dumpster, allow you to throw your trash inside.

Jungkook blinks, as though this latest question completely threw him for a loop. “Uh…I thought it might help.”

“With what?”

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “You think doctors are sexy, don’t you?”

           “What?!” You choke out quite literally, beginning to cough. “Who- I never said that!”

           Jungkook grins maliciously. “Yeah, but I heard you watching Grey’s Anatomy the other day. And it was on your recently watched.”

           You begin to walk away, waving him off. “That doesn’t mean anything, Jungkook. So what? It’s just a show.”

           Running ahead of you, Jungkook bounds up the first few steps before turning around to face you again, effectively cutting off your escape route. “Be honest. You don’t find them the least bit sexy? This coat does nothing for you?” He runs his hands down the lapels for emphasis.

           You attempt to push past him. “What is even happening today?” Jungkook stops you in your tracks, hands on your upper arms and trapping you against the railing.

           “I thought I might as well give myself a chance,” he mumbles, head tilted to one side as he takes in the way you’re staring up at him with utter confusion. “Don’t you wanna go out with a doctor?”

           You blink slowly. “You…you’re setting me up with a doc-“

           “Yah!” Jungkook groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. “How many way do I have to say it? I want you to be the Wanda to my Vision!”            “Jungkook, we’ve talked about this…” you sigh, hiding your laugh at his impatience. “They have a toxic relationship, why would I want that?”

           “Don’t make me do this!” Jungkook whines, cheeks turning pink. “Just tell me yes or no!”

           “To what?” You ask, feigning ignorance. “I don’t even know what you’re asking.”

           “Nooo, you do,” Jungkook presses in closer as though that’ll help you understand. “I want you and I to…to…you know, I think we’d be good together.”

           You frown. “Aren’t we together right now?”

           “I swear-“ Jungkook takes a step back, sighing up at the sky. You snap your fingers, having a sudden epiphany.

           “Oh, you mean together like we start singing duets in the morning through the wall?”

           He blinks before bursting out into a fit of laughter. “I…yeah! Exactly!”

           “No. But I will let you take me out on a date.” You give him a long look. “I’ve never been kissed by a doctor before, you know.”

           Jungkook turns an impressive shade of red. “O-oh. You haven’t?”

           “Nope,” you pop the ‘p’. Turning to head up the stairs, you leave him in his shock. “Wonder what it’s like.”

           Taking off in a run, you only get about a two second head start before Jungkook overtakes you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you in close, wide eyes eating up every inch of your skin.

           Tilting your chin up, he breathes out, “Well, why don’t we change that?”

masterlist

commission a request!

[ficrecsbybu]

WinterIron fic rec 2021: Part I

Note: this fic rec consists only of Bucky Barnes/Tony Stark fics. the only Stucky & Stony you might see is as past relationships but that’s it. it’s also complete works ONLY. also - no underage stuff 🔪.  if you have any requests for Winteriron fic recs (for e.g non-superpower au, only one shots, series, hardcore smut, post-tws, college au, not team cap friendly fics, bodyguard au etc.) you can send me requests ^^. anyway... enjoy 😉 

✨ The Guiding of Death by RayShippouUchiha

“That whole Merchant of Death thing,” someone off to the side faux whispers, “makes a lot more sense now.”

It echoes across the bridge like a gunshot. 

Rated M, Hades & Persephone AU, Canon Divergence, always female Tony Stark, not Team Cap friendly. word count: 41391

(note: listen... I know het pairings and/or gender bend is not popular and I never really read those in general BUT this is straight up one of the best fics I have ever read so I NEEDED to share this with y’all...✌️)

✨ Forms of Love by bear_bell

Tony's the bad guy, after all. He's used to it. He's fine with it. He's good at it.

Only now, there's something far worse loitering around the tower - The Winter Soldier. No one notices the guy at first, but when they do, Tony figures that he should have the soldier's back.

Birds of a feather should flock together, and the bad guys should start a book club.

Rated E, Post-CW, Bucky Barnes & Winter Soldier are Different Personalities, Team Iron Man. word count: 33591

✨ Looking at You by NotEvenCloseToStraight

Bucky looks for so long that now all he wants to do is touch and hold and fix everything. But Tony can barely be in the same room as Bucky, cant even look him in the eye. So Bucky doesn't know what to do about Tony, but he is determined to do something. Because all he wants is to look at Tony, and see Tony looking back with a smile.

Rated E, Post-CW, PTSD, team heals, mental healing, forgiveness, angst with a happy ending. word count: 28,168

✨ I'll Be Your Bodyguard (If You'll Be My Security Blanket) by NarutoRox

When one of Loki's pranks gone wrong leaves the team with a young Winter Soldier in their care, they know they're going to have their hands full. Especially since this newer, tinier version of Bucky seems to have a bodyguard complex - and a particular attachment to Tony.

Rated T, kid fic, age regression/de-aging, de-aged Bucky, tiny bodyguard Bucky. word count: 4,993. 

(note: finally something CUTE. Im so sorry for being such a slut for angst and heavy stuff 😅)

✨ Fate Strings Not Required by Akira_of_the_Twilight

Tony took the hint.

Tony wrapped his hand around the new guy’s elbow. He kept his touch light and breakable in case he’d misread the cue.

“Just some guy claiming to be my soul mate, babe.”

The new guy’s eyebrows rose to his hairline in surprise. He chuckled and gave the first guy a smirk. “Strange. Last time I checked we were soul mates.”

Rated T, AU - no superpowers, AU - soulmates, Bodyguard Bucky Barnes, age difference. word count: 7,032.

✨ Shameless  by Finely Honed (jaqen_hgar)

Tony isn’t actually sure which of them starts it—he’d like to take credit, but if he’s learned anything it’s that Barnes is by no means a wilting flower. Besides, the start doesn’t matter as much as figuring out who’s going to actually finish it.

rated M, flirting, dirty talk, sexual tension. word count: 2,560

✨ Winter Wooer by salytierra

Winter may not be the most pleasant guy to live or share your body with, but he isn't nearly as destructive as everybody expected him to be either. He likes to brood in the corners, watch British TV, and freak people out. And Tony. He really, really likes Tony Stark. There's just one problem – Bucky's pretty sure he doesn't feel the same way about the guy.

Rated M, Bucky Barnes & Winter Soldier are Different Personalities, team as family. word count: 8,726

✨ Even Darkness Must Pass by Finely Honed (jaqen_hgar)

“Fake it till you make it,” Bucky whispered to himself, swallowing around his panic. Sam had drilled the idea into him, and it had become a mantra of sorts, something to hold onto when all he wanted to do was blend into the shadows and disappear.

“You’ll be fine.”

Steve placed a warm, strong hand on Bucky’s shoulder and squeezed, his super soldier ears having picked up Bucky uttering the now familiar saying.

Bucky nodded, tried to believe his own words, and followed Steve onto the common floor, a wall of sound hitting them as they entered.

rated M (but mild sexual content), parent Tony Stark, Bucky Barnes recovering, team as family, of love and hobbits 🧝🏻‍♂️. word count: 15,289

✨ Paths Are Made by Walking by Potrix 

The road to recovery is long, winding and a different one for every person walking it. Bucky chooses to help himself the only way he knows how; by doing what he does best.

Or, alternatively; the one in which Tony is a mess and accidentally kick-starts Bucky’s protective mother hen instincts.

rated T, post-TWS, fluff, humour, getting together, idiots in love. word count: 4,744.

✨ Rise In Perfect Light (Be Not Fearful Of The Night) by RayShippouUchiha

At first, the new element singing in his chest, Tony doesn’t understand what he’s done.

Doesn’t understand the full consequences of his actions.

But, to be fair, there’s no way he really could have.

Not even a futurist like him could have ever seen this coming.

rated G, post-CW, past Stony, angst with a happy ending. word count: 3,589.

(note: this fic is SO BEAUTIFUL. lemme just asjkdjnsjkdm)

✨ and amidst the ruins, there was you by TheKitteh

With everything resolved - post the Berlin conflict, Siberia and the rogue Avengers' return - Tony relishes in the clarity of what the team is now. He can finally see the well-defined lines, he can rely on solid rules and the chain of command. He's settled into his life like never before.

That is, until one day, an unhinged sorcerer with no grasp on his magic shatters that new-found balance.

As a result, half of Tony's soul is now gone, but he's willing to do anything to get it back.

rated T, post-CW, canon divergence, au - Dystopia, Dimension Travel, magical accidents, slow burn, getting together. word count: 36,976

✨ and so we unfold by TheKitteh

Senbazuru. Thousand Cranes.

An ancient Japanese legend that promises anyone who folds a thousand origami cranes will be granted a wish by the gods. Some stories believe you are granted happiness and eternal good luck, instead of just one wish, such as long life or recovery from illness or injury.

Bucky’s not big on believing in any legends, not after all that has happened. He just wants to create something for a change, not destroy.

He needs to prove himself that he can be trusted to handle something delicate. He doesn’t need a promise of a wish come true. He just,- needs to do this for himself.

He doesn’t need noticing how sad, tired Stark looks. Doesn’t need to want to do something for the man, when he can barely do anything for himself.

rated T, CACW canon divergence, getting together, reconciliation, POV alternating, Bucky Barnes recovering. word count: 14,449

✨ Spilt on the Ground like Water by tisfan

Tony has been black-bagged and illegally held at the Raft. Steve has no intentions of going to rescue him.

But the Winter Soldier isn't going to leave him behind.

rated E, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes, implied/referenced torture, frottage, dub-con, mention of part non-con (HYDRA trash party), not Steve friendly, suicidal thoughts, touch-starved. word count: 10,853

✨ Norns, Save Us (From Ourselves) by phlintandsteel

It’s been ten years since half the universe was dusted.

rated E, post-IW au, A/B/O verse, Omega Tony, Alpha Bucky, Soulmates, Peter & Harley playing matchmaker, still recovering Bucky Barnes, not Steve Rogers Friendly, angst with a happy ending. word count: 37,324.

✨ Change You Like A Remix by ficlicious 

No one ever said Avenging would be easy, but Bucky could have really used a memo about the weeks where the hits just didn’t stop coming. He’d probably still have signed his soul away to the gods of spandex and paperwork, but a heads up woulda been nice before he nodded and smiled and took up residence in the house sanity fled when the Avengers moved in.

---- Soulmates, misunderstandings, snark, genderswap and sleep-deprived Avengers abound. Tony's a woman. Must be Friday.

rated E, AU - soulmates, established relationship, temporary gender swap, jealous Bucky Barnes, misunderstanding, miscommunication. word count: 10,494.

✨ Getting to Know You by orbingarrow

It had been an adventure, navigating the sweetly apologetic Bucky Barnes, who haunted the tower most days, and the the Winter Soldier, who occasionally inhabited Barnes’s body. The Winter Soldier was not apologetic; he was scary. And he was currently chilling out, uninvited, in Tony's lab.

“Leave,” Tony said, because Tony was either a dead man or not, and there wasn’t much he could do about it before coffee.

“Or you could give me permission to be here,” the Winter Soldier suggested.

“I don’t let strangers poke around my stuff,” Tony grumbled, as he walked past the Soldier to take a seat at his workbench.

“Easily solved,” the Soldier deflected. “Get to know me.”

-This is what happens when Tony does.

rated G, Bucky Barnes & Winter Soldier are different personalities, fluff, Clint Barton is a good bro. word count: 9,470

✨ Safe House by ali_aliska

For years, Tony had successfully kept his secret. Neither the world nor his team knew he was Iron Man and as far as he was concerned, everyone was better off that way. On his best days, Tony Stark was not someone people liked and trusted, so the last thing Tony wanted was to tarnish Iron Man’s good reputation by revealing the truth.

But then SHIELD falls, the Avengers face disarray, and a stray Hydra assassin forces Tony to go into hiding—and where better than the safe house he had just crafted for the Avengers and their own ex-assassin ready to come in from the cold?

Tony plans to hide away from everyone in his makeshift workshop until the coast is clear and he’s safe to go home. No one would care to spend any time with the reclusive, arrogant billionaire anyways, right? Iron Man is the one everyone wants around.

Bucky Barnes, on his own journey to reclaim his life and identity, seems to disagree with that sentiment.

rated T, post TWS, canon divergence, au - Secret Identity, mutual pining, team as family, slow burn, misunderstandings. word count: 89,533

✨ Versace on the floor by withered

The modern man’s armor is his clothing, and Bucky wants Tony out of his.

rated T,  post CW, Bucky Barnes & Winter Soldier are Separate Personalities, Barnes & Soldier & their hard-on for Tony, not team cap friendly. word count: 2,127 

[ratmonky]

Glory of Power

Word Count: 3.4K

Warnings: misogyny, dacryphilia, exhibitionism, public, manipulation

AO3 Link

From across the room, you could see him take small sips from his drink. Some petite server girl was filling his glass with a smile and the people surrounding him were all laughing at a story he was telling.

Charismatic and confident.

Everyone wanted to be him.

Everyone wanted him.

You wanted him.

You wanted to be one of those people who surrounded him. Desperately wanted to stand next to him and have his arm around your waist as he told those people his stories. You wanted to be owned by him and everyone to know you belonged to him.

However, no matter how much you wanted to approach him, you were quite out of your element tonight. A large gathering full of famous and wealthy people was as elegant as you thought it would be. There were servers, a pianist gracefully playing a tasteful piece and people were all chatting about things you couldn’t keep up with.

You had tried blending in with a group a couple of hours ago and grabbed a glass of champagne to join them as they were talking about politics but you realized that your views were clashing from the moment they opened their mouth.

Although you would like to call them out on their political views, the others in the group started to agree and nod with a laugh. Feeling lost, you sipped from your champagne instead.

Hours later the same champagne had gone flat and you were standing in the corner, watching the people around you socialize.

The atmosphere was smothering you and the pressure of wanting to make a good impression before everyone left was enough to give you a headache.

In the dark quiet of some of the people leaving the Zenin compound, you walked out to the balcony to get some fresh air after finally leaving your flat champagne on a table. The summer breeze made you shiver a little and you saw someone who had come here to escape the people just like you.

Naoya was smoking, leaning on a pillar, and watching the full moon with interest. It was just the two of you alone together here for the first time in the night. He hadn’t noticed your presence on the balcony.

Although you wanted to walk up to him and start a conversation like you had been wanting to all night, you hadn’t had enough to drink to have that much confidence but then why were you walking towards him?

Naoya turned his head to you when he took notice of you approaching him. A faint smile tugged at his lips. “I see my father invited the weaker link to a clan gathering.”

You forced a smile and awkwardly stood in front of him. A little too dumb to notice that he had actually insulted you. “He invited the head of my clan but since he was busy I’m here.”

“You came here all by yourself to represent your clan?”

A nod.

“Did you manage to befriend anyone?”

A shrug.

He chuckled, shaking his head slightly. “This is why women shouldn’t get involved in clan politics.” Naoya made a thoughtful sound, bringing his hand up to inhale his cigarette smoke.

“What about you?” you asked, beaming up at him. “I saw you chatting up a large crowd, any progress?”

“No.” He was quick to shake his head. “None of their clans are worthy of being the Zenin Clan’s ally.”

“Well, what about mine?” you asked playfully.

He scoffed.

You cocked a brow at that, frowning just slightly. “What?”

“Do you really wanna know what I think about your clan?”

“Are you always this rude?”

This time Naoya nodded with a smirk.

Grumbling under your breath, you looked at the view from the balcony. The large mountains looked breathtaking in the night sky.

It became silent between the two of you. But this time Naoya broke the silence.

“Wanna grab a drink?” he asked, flicking the ash off his cigarette.

You turned to look at him, and right away the intensity of his stare made you flustered. “I could use some.”

“I meant for me,” he replied and cocked his head to gesture inside the compound. “Go fetch something for me.”

“Oh, okay.” Like an obedient puppy, you went inside to grab the two drinks from one of the servers going around. You returned to Naoya’s side and he took the beverage from you. He wasn’t wearing his usual attire tonight, he was wearing a suit. It fit him well, almost too well.

“How crowded is it?” he asked out of nowhere.

You stumbled on your words. “Everyone is leaving,” you said, glancing at him for a second. This time, he was watching you. “I guess since you’re not there they don’t have a reason to stay.”

Naoya clicked his tongue and stubbed out his cigarette. “This was a waste of time.”

“It wasn’t.” You offered him a smile. “It was a good way to bring sorcerer clans together.”

“Then what’s the purpose of you being here?” Naoya raised a brow. “You’re not a sorcerer. You can’t find allies for your clan or bring me a drink.”

“I did, I brought you a drink,” you said, smile disappearing because of his change of mood.

Naoya turned the champagne glass to the side until he could pour out its contents down from the balcony to the garden. “Do I look like a champagne guy to you?”

You stared at your own glass in shame, “That was what they were serving.”

He held the glass to you and once you took it, he fished out his cigarette packet to put another cigarette between his lips. “Aren’t you a woman? Shouldn’t you be useful at least in some way?” He lit the cigarette and took a long whiff. “Why are you even here if you can’t be useful to anyone?”

“I-it’s my right,” you mumbled.

“What’s that? Speak up.”

“It’s my right as a member of my clan, I deserve the same respect my head of the clan gets.” Your hands holding the glasses were shaking.

Naoya watched your trembling hands with amusement.

“Stop looking down on me.” You managed not to stutter but your voice cracked. “We’re the same.”

“Same? Sweetheart, we’re not the same. Like any other woman, you can’t think with your brain. Don’t you understand? This is clan politics. Your head of the clan is a mighty man worthy of respect but you’re just some eye candy. You don’t have any rights or any worth to have anyone’s respect here.”

You could practically see the way his hand was trembling, as if unable to contain his anger. “You women are just a bunch of breeding holes if anything.” He took a drag of his cigarette to calm his senses, his eyes tracking your every movement.

Nevertheless, none of you were expecting you to splash your champagne in his face. Your body had moved on its own and you immediately regretted it when you saw Naoya glower down at you.

Taking a stuttering breath, you bit your lip, trying to find a word to say but you found yourself unable to utter a single syllable.

Naoya dragged a hand down his face and shook his hand to get rid of the excess liquid on his hand. His handsome face was marred with a fit of twisted anger when he noticed you had soaked his cigarette as well.

He was quiet. A little too quiet.

“I’m sorry.” You finally managed, taking a step back to put distance between the two of you. The shaking of your hands made your grip on the glasses loosen. The sound of something shattering came slightly afterward. You stared at the shattered glasses on the floor.

Naoya raised a brow, “Are you now?”

In the heat of the moment you had done something that could damage your clan’s reputation and worse than that… you did something Naoya would hate you for.

“I-I am. I’m sorry. I’m not s-someone s-special and I’m l-lame for even s-standing next to you but I-I am really h-honored to be at this party. I really am, I-I just got angry. I am glad I-I’m here. I… I’ve always loved you… I’m sorry.”

“What are you talking about? Are you apologizing or confessing your pathetic feelings?”

You couldn’t look at him, your eyes were on his shoes but you still had the guts to confess your feelings to him instead of apologizing.

Naoya stood still and watched you tremble. He could see how much courage you had to build up before coming here to tell him all this nonsense. You had to be madly in love with him or else why would you embarrass yourself like this?

“Are you done?” he asked, running a hand through his hair to prevent it from sticking to his soaked forehead.

Crack.

“Y-yeah.” There was no way you could hide how ashamed you were. The shaking wouldn’t stop, “I’m sorry.”

“You disrespect me, trash my house, and expect me to forgive you?” he hissed through his teeth. You started shaking your head and suddenly kneeled on the floor to grab the glass pieces.

“I’ll-I’ll clean it up, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean any of this.” Your eyes were glossy with tears, not wanting to cry in front of him you quickly wiped them away. Picking up the glass pieces in your palm, you crawled to gather the larger pieces first. Some of the broken pieces were next to Naoya’s feet.

While you were picking the glass pieces in front of him, the skirt of your dress got soaked on the floor by the champagne you had splashed on him.

“Get out of my house.”

Your hands were twitching as you struggled to gather any more of the glass pieces. You fought down another swell of panic. “I’m sorry, I’ll clean this-”

“You’re gonna apologize by cleaning?” he asked in a mocking tone, “Leave.”

You looked up to him, eyes wide and glossy. “Naoya, please. I’m sorry.”

The view of you on your knees and barely a second away from crying caught him off guard. Your lower lip trembling in fear only made it better.

“How much do you love me?”

The question sounded simple but you didn’t know his intentions that laid beneath it or how his cheeks were tinted with a faint blush.

“A lot!” Your choked-up answer was instantaneous. It made him grin. Obedient women were just his type.

Naoya’s eyes squinted and his lips curled into a smile as he reached his hand out for you to hold. “Drop the glass shards.”

You did as he told and reached to take his hand to stand up but Naoya had other plans. He grabbed your hand by the wrist and pressed your palm against his bulge.

Stunned, you froze in the awkward position he placed your hand.

He let out an annoyed sigh, “Come on, prove it to me that you love me,” he was inanimate. His hand moved yours over his bulge, causing you to rub it.

“B-but.” You looked around in panic. “We’re outside-”

“So you don’t love me, is that it?”

“No! I do! But… I think-”

“You’re in love with me, right?” He had a sickening smile on his face.

“Naoya, what if someone comes out.” If he persisted one more time, you would start crying. “We should go somewhere else.”

“Do you want me to forgive you or do you want me to cut all ties with your clan?”

Your blood went cold, eventually understanding where you stood on the clan politics. Not only your clan was nothing compared to his own, one word from him could send everything the head of your clan built down the drain.

“I can’t do it here,” you cried, cheeks wet with tears. “I have a reputation.”

“Your crying voice is more erotic than I thought.” Naoya ignored your pathetic begging and chuckled. You gasped when you felt his cock throb under your hand. “(name),” he cooed, pressing your hand against his growing erection. You lifted your gaze up to him once again, facing him fully. His half-lidded gaze was already on you. “Be a good girl and do as I say.”

You nodded slowly and he pulled his hand back from yours to unbuckle his belt. His fingers moved gracefully and smoothly, it was sort of hypnotizing to see him unzip his pants.

You had seen him in the dojo growing up, learning to swing the wooden sword to practice for the real thing. His calloused hands were large and rough, yet when his hand reached to hold your chin in between his thumb and index finger, they were being gentle. The pad of his thumb pressed on your bottom lip and pushed it inside, making you open your mouth.

“Open wide,” he snickered, his other hand pushing his pants and boxers down to release his aching cock. “Or it won’t fit in.”

You moaned at his words, tongue pressed flat against his finger. He let you suck his finger into your mouth and watched with delight when your cheeks hollowed as your tongue swirled around his thumb.

Pulling his finger out of your mouth, he held his cock over your face and slapped it on your cheek. “Don’t forget, no teeth.” He didn’t let you answer, instead put the tip of his cock against your lips and pulled the thin layer of skin to expose the tip more.

Without wasting any time, you lolled out your tongue and held his throbbing cock in your hands to run your tongue from the base to the tip, following a vein. You looked up to him through your lashes while sliding your thumb over the tip of his cock that was glistening with precum already. He was watching you intently, which made your thighs rub together in anticipation.

“(name).” He thrust against your cheek, his precum dripping onto your face, “Open your mouth before I shove it down your throat.

Naoya sighed when you took him into your mouth, your glossy lips wrapping around the girth of his cock were almost euphoric, it made him thrust into your mouth. He tasted as good as he looked. Mild but quite salty.

“Good girl,” he groaned, his hand landed on your hair and he carded his thick fingers through the strands. “I knew there was some use to you.”

The second you started to bob your head, his hand settled on top of your head and began moving you. You let him do whatever he wanted, all you had to do was suck in your cheeks and wrap your tongue around the girth of his cock while he was directing you as he pleased.

With a harsh thrust of his hips, his cock grazed the back of your throat. You gagged reflexively as he abruptly started to force his cock down your throat to fuck your face.

Drool and his precum gushed out from your mouth with every snap of his hips and you looked up at him lovingly. His smothering eyes watched you with a blank expression yet you could see a small trace of pleasure in them.

“You’re enjoying this way much more than I do.”

Your sloppy blowjob, the drool that was running down your chin, and tears staining your face, all of it made Naoya’s cock twitch in your mouth.

He grabbed the back of your head with his free hand and started to mindlessly fuck your mouth. Fresh tears pricked in the corners of your eyes and you tried your best to not ruin his moment of chasing after his relief. You reached down and under your skirt to your clothed cunt to rub tight circles over the soaked bud to get some sort of relief as well.

His hips staggeringly surged forward, he groaned and you felt him release his warm seed in your mouth. He kept his cock deep inside of your throat until he stopped cumming.

Once he pulled out he stared at your face, your mouth open and some of his cum stuck on your tongue. His face was leaning closer to yours, you puckered your open lips sluggishly to kiss him.

Instead of having his soft lips press against yours, Naoya spat in your mouth.

Your eyes widened in surprise while he laughed at your reaction.

“Did you really think I’d kiss you?” he scoffed. “You reek of cum.”

You stared at the ground in shame, speechless.

“Swallow it,” he ordered.

You shook your head slightly but he nodded rapidly while shushing you. A shiver ran up and down your spine because you were nothing but a desperate whore and you would do anything to please him. You glanced up at him before taking a deep breath.

“Come on, sweetheart.” he petted your hair lovingly, “Show me that you can at least be useful.”

Finally deciding to get over with it, you swallowed. Naoya gently put his hand under your chin and lifted your chin up. You were so obedient and you worshipped him more than anyone else did.

“What’s up with that face?” He raised a brow, frowning mockingly. “Show me a smile.”

You must be sick because you smiled, hoping to satisfy him.

“Good girl.”

Next thing you know, you’re up on your feet and being bent over towards the cement railing of the balcony.

Everything was happening too quickly for your head to catch up. You were already embarrassed about sucking him off in public and now when you were being bent over like this was off-limits.

“N-Naoya?” You sounded worried and in panic. Someone could walk in at any time.

“I haven’t gone limp yet.” Was Naoya’s reply. He focused on gathering the long skirt of your dress and lifting it up and over your ass. He whistled in amusement at the sight of your thighs being soaked with your juices.

“S-someone will see.”

“You didn’t worry about being seen while you had my dick in your mouth. What’s so different?” You felt your panties being slid to the side before the tip of his cock started moving between your folds. Naoya coated his cock with your glistening juices and lined himself up on your entrance. “Besides, you want to be seen with me, don’t you?”

You didn’t get to give him a reply as Naoya suddenly shoved his entire length inside your pussy. A sharp moan left your lips and you held tightly onto the railing, legs shaking in pleasure.

Naoya gasped audibly at your gummy walls taking the shape of his cock so nicely. He smiled to himself, pulling his hips back agonizingly slowly, and then slammed them inside your pussy until his balls slapped against your ass.

The panic that took over you disappeared as quickly as it appeared when Naoya started moving. “Aren’t you happy to be fucked by me?”

He slammed his cock into your cunt frantically and you found yourself nodding languidly at his question, you bit your lip to repress a moan.

His hand landed on your ass with a loud clap sound and you jerked forward, your grip tightening on the railing.

A moan finally escaped your lips when he grabbed you by your hips and forced you to arch your back so that he could mount you completely. His cock felt bigger and went deeper in this position, making you see the stars.

As you were nearing your end, your gummy walls clenched around him, making his already sensitive cock twitch frenziedly. Your hips started to move to meet his animalistic pace, soft sounds of pleasure escaping you without shame now.

Surprised by your body’s reaction, his cock throbbed inside you, spurting thick ropes of his seed inside your womb. He had been planning to pull out but you hadn’t let him.

Naoya continued moving his hips, fucking his cum deeper inside your pussy and watching it gust out from your hole. The sloppy sounds were pleasing to hear, at least to him they were.

When he pulled out, the skirt of your dress fell to cover your lower half. You could feel his cum ooze out from you as you tried standing up on your wobbly legs.

Behind you, Naoya had already tucked himself in his pants and fixed his suit. His blazer was damp from the champagne but since it was a dark navy color, it wasn’t visible.

He seemed in a better mood, his anger past forgotten but you still felt the need to apologize again. “I’m sorry for all of this. I ruined your night.”

Naoya smiled in response, tilting his head to the side slightly and taking a step to close the distance between the two of you. “Don’t worry, (name).” His hand snaked around your waist before he led you back inside the compound and to his room. “There’s still time for you to make it all up to me.”

[zodiyack]

In Regards Of My Apology

Pairing: Niklaus Mikaelson x Female!Reader

Warnings: Angst?

Words: 1,174

Summary: Y/n misses her husband so much that it affects her visibly. Rebekah allows her to rant about it then schemes with Elijah. Before Klaus knows it, his older brother and younger sister are before him with an important message.

Note: I’ve decided I’m gonna do three parts, which. on that topic, part three will be released soon! 

Taglist: @matth1w​, @redspaceace-writes​, @fandom-puff​, @darling-i-read-it​, @simonsbluee​, @sebastianstanslefteyebrow​, @dpaccione​, @jenepleurepasbaby​

Masterlist | The Originals Masterlist

Part One. Part Two. Part Three.

His castle, really the Mikaelson home, was deserted apart from himself. Every day, the weight of his guilt daunted him. Too stubborn to straight away admit his foolishness, even to his wife, he sat in the lonely home of the Mikaelsons. It wasn’t like he didn’t wish he could reverse what he’d done, nor did he believe he wasn’t in the wrong. Klaus was just...Klaus.

On the other hand, Y/n was surrounded by the people she loved, minus her husband. Elijah and Rebekah were constantly checking on her and rarely did they speak of Klaus. The one time Davina tried to bring him up, all three older women stared her down and shook their heads urgently. It was like he was a forbidden topic, a man who’s name was no longer something allowed to be mentioned if you so much as valued your life.

However, it was quite the opposite with Y/n. Whilst she appreciated their caring company and loving gestures, she had no problem talking of her husband. In fact, she wanted to talk about him. Y/n desperately wanted to figure out the whole situation so she could be resting beside him in their shared bed every night again rather than the uncomfortable one provided by Marcel. She was grateful, but she yearned for the love of her life.

Each time she tried to talk about him, someone was quick to interject. Eventually she gave up, but when she hadn’t heard from him for a few months, she began to grow ill with worry. She couldn’t literally get ill as a member of the undead but it did affect her drastically. It wasn’t long before the others started to notice.

“Y/n, dear, are you alright?” Rebekah paused in place, concern lacing her knitted eyebrows as she set down the teacup she was about to pour the hot water in.

“Hm? Oh, yes, I suppose I’m fine.” Her lie wasn’t nearly as convincing as Klaus deemed Aurora’s to be, which was saying a lot.

Rebekah new better than to listen to her sister-in-law at this time. “What’s bothering you, love?”

But then, that was the problem. If Y/n were to tell anyone who was watching over her while she tried so hard to get back on her feet and recover from her fight with her husband that he was what was on her mind incessantly, they were surely to shut her down instantaneously. She hadn’t tried her luck in some time, over being interrupted again and again.

“It’s nothing...”

“No, no, no. Unless ‘nothing’ is making you look like utterly useless trash, no offense, then it is something.” She crossed her arms and leaned her hip into the counter with a sigh. “So, tell me what the ‘something’ is.”

Although Y/n doubted Rebekah would let her bring up Klaus, even for a second, she decided it was worth a try. “Well...if you really want to know-”

“I do.”

“Then,” she inhaled deeply, exhaling slowly as she prepared to voice the source of her troubled thoughts, “it’s about Nik.” Y/n waited, watching Rebekah intensely, waiting for her to interfere and change the topic. But she never did.

The Blond looked around for a second, then back to Y/n, “Are you going to continue or are you just going to leave me in the dark?”

“You’re...not going to stop me?”

“No. If he has you this distressed, we might as well solve the problem instead of letting you dwell in it.” Rebekah moved forward, pulling out a chair and sitting across from Y/n. “Now. Do continue.”

“Uh- Alright.” And so Y/n explained to her sister-in-law, as though she were her personal therapist, the distress she felt, the weight of their first large and unsolved fight a burden on her shoulders like Atlas and the world. In truth, she had taken up the role and become rather serious about it. 

“Well, what do you think we ought to do about it?”

“I- We?”

“Did I stutter? Or did vampirism not amplify your hearing the way it should’ve?” Despite her sarcasm, she waited for an answer, but when one did not come, she chuckled a bit. “It’s the same as the last time. I have your back. We all have your back, so, if you’re going to do something about it, so am I.”

Both Rebekah and Elijah were the first to enter the forgotten Mikaelson palace in the time since the king and queen parted ways. Klaus reigned terror more than before, threatening people because he felt like it, doing things to quell his anger even though he knew full well that the satisfaction it gave him was only temporary until he had his queen back. Klaus was just as broken as Y/n and it was only when he was in the darkest place of months without her, did he fully take in Hayley’s words and actually give an effort to see the truth.

It was true, Y/n was loyal to a fault, and yet, he believed the woman turned out to be just as evil as her brother and Lucien in plotting against the Originals. He was vengeful when he found it out, putting an end to their plan and their existences with the help of his family and some friends. That was the last time he’d seen them since then.

“Thank you, Elijah.” His voice quivered.

Elijah pulled at his cuffs slightly, then looked at his brother with dead emotion. “This is the last time I will be by your side until you realize your wrong doings and do the thing you know you must. Until then, brother.”

As Elijah walked past him, he bumped Klaus’ shoulder harshly. He couldn’t help but freeze, tears filling his eyes as his gaze remained glued to the ground.

Snapping out of the memory, Klaus wiped his tears away.

“Alas, he finally returns to reality.”

His head snapped around, eyes wide and still watery. “You came back-”

“But not for you.” Elijah was quick to put an end to any hope of his siblings trust Klaus had left. “Niklaus, do tell me, have you any remorse for what burdens you have placed upon your wife?”

“Oh...” Klaus realized the true meaning of his siblings’ arrival, the guilt swimming around his gut only intensifying.

“Oh indeed, Nik. She’s ready to forgive whenever you’re ready to apologize.”

“Are you here to help me?”

Rebekah laughed, “No, I’m afraid you’re the one who made the mess, so you’re the one who must clean the mess. We’re simply the messengers, dear brother.” She smiled with false sweetness, then turned and paced out of the room.

Elijah, once again left alone with his younger brother, uttered his wise words of advice before he too left for the second time. “I do wish you take Hayley’s words to mind, Niklaus. It would do not only you, but your wife some good.” By the door was where he stopped one final time. “Mind you, if you truly love her,” he paused, “you’d do what is right.”

[b0rista]

— 𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐈𝐄 𝐒𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑.

WARNINGS: light angst & swearing.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: he's one of my ultimate favorite snk characters, and i needed to cleanse my page of the heavy ass warrior content djjfjf.

"you're either a blessing, or you're a lesson. either or, you and i met for a reason."

with all of the gore and the misfortune that comes with your livelihood, it's connie that gets you through it.

as expected, you first fell in love with him for his humor. not for the humor itself, but for how it shed the smallest flicker of joy upon a heaping tower of despair— as soldiers, you needed that. fortunately, he was the one that brought it to the table. even during your days as cadets, connie lived to make you laugh. hearing a chuckle flutter from your core served as a form of therapy for him, and with time, he grew addicted.

with that being said, he does the stupidest shit in order to get your attention. even when you're together, he'll do what needs to be done. for example, one time, he tried to impress you by doing a trick while saddled up on his horse. in an attempt to twirl like a jackass ballerina, the horse decided that it deserved better, and kicked him clean off its back. at the sight of his 5'2 ass being hoisted eight feet into the air, you nearly choked.

prepare yourself, he's a cuddler. after a particularly hard day's worth of work, connie finds solace in bedding up with you, knowing that you're safe, and with him. he asks that you don't tell anybody, but he actually really enjoys cuddling as the little spoon. to have his head pressed against your chest, his ear to your heartbeat, brings him comfort. of course, he'll never detest to being your big spoon, either. he absolutely loves the feeling of you buried within his touch.

^ if you ever want to go an evening without cuddling, he'll be immediately offended. never, ever, ever will the two of you fall asleep back to back. he simply won't have it, it makes him feel as if something's wrong. and if that is the case, nobody's falling asleep until you've talked about it and successfully sorted it out.

at the beginning of your guys' relationship, everyone worried for you. did he coerce you, y/n? are you being forced? has he threatened you, has he threatened your family? nobody could grasp the fact that connie motherfuckin' springer had managed to pull you.

if there's any sort of sour talk regarding you, no matter how little it is, this man will leap to your defense. one time, jean called your bedhead ugly, and connie propelled a moldy roll of bread into his forehead. in the end, a massive food fight erupted, and you were just standing there with your bedhead like 🧍‍♀️

HOWEVER, there was an instance that actually led to a genuine, real fight between you two as a couple. you'd managed to scuff up your leg during the battle with kenny the ripper and his associates, and when it came down to who was and who wasn't going to tag along for the eren & historia rescue mission, connie belittled you to the team behind your back. not because he actually felt that way, but because he'd do anything to maintain your safety— even if it meant hurting your feelings. telling captain levi that your abilities were inadequate for that particular mission hurt him, but he did what he felt was necessary.

in the end, though, levi saw through the charade. to connie's dismay, you came with to save eren and historia. and during the entire journey, you didn't even utter a word to him. of course, though, during the battle, you put your frustrations aside. once you saw your lover's head nearly get kicked in during combat, you understood his intentions, and you forgave him. as expected, he replied to your forgiveness with humor,, his go-to coping mechanism.

"considering how sexy i looked on the battlefield, i knew you wouldn't be able to resist."

whenever his hair starts to grow out, you're the one that gets to cut it back down! he's able to do it himself, but he really likes it when you do it. you're typically propped up in his lap, sitting face to face as you file down his edges. he always loops his arms around your waist, intently staring you in the face— seeing you so concentrated on his hair, he can't help it.

you wouldn't expect this from connie whatsoever, but he likes it when you read to him. pick a literature of your choice and let him kick back and rest his head onto your lap, pleasE. he'll close his eyes, and for the first time in forever, stay still. the only time he and books ever coexist is when you're reading one to him. he'll also make fun of you whenever you stumble over a sentence,, so get ready.

the day you realize that this motherfucker is nearing six feet tall, you're ready for the holy spirit to whisk you away. literally, you measure his height on the weekly once you realize he just keeps gaining inches. that, and when he starts growing more into his face? lawd, take you now.

"connie, you're getting seXY-"

"what the hell does thaT mE A N-"

many, many proposals. none are meant to be taken seriously, which the both of you know. still, there are far too many proposals between the two of you. one time, you killed a fly midair, and he thought you were the baddest bitch on the block.

"marry me."

another time, he swooped you into the air with his maneuvering gear, and as you held onto him for dear life, you looked him dead in the face: "marry me, you baldheaded bastard."

it can be a reel, how many times the two of you say that bullshit. somehow, it's cute.

he doesn't really take basic boundaries into consideration. like, one time, you caught him using your toothbrush because he couldn't find his. it wasn't fun, you had to give him a serious talking to.

he is, without a doubt, constantly prepared to lay down his life for you on the battlefield. during his time as a soldier, he's grown significantly strong— and once he fell in love with you, he's felt even stronger. not only do you give him drive, but you lend him strength. with that being said, you're somebody he'd die for without even an ounce of hesitation. and knowing him, he's probably made that more than obvious.

when connie's village was destroyed and it was discovered that his entire family was turned into titans, you were one of the only ones to actually comfort him. you were absolutely enraged at how nonchalantly your lover's loss was set aside, and although he'd tried his hardest to conquer the grief alone, it was you who sat at his bedside at night, cradling him in your arms as he wept. never in your life had you seen him so distraught. after that period of time, your relationship with him only deepened in its seriousness. 

as expected, you and sasha spend quite a bit of time together! after all, that's your boyfriend's best friend. given her easygoing nature, it didn't take long for sasha to absolutely adore you. naturally, she wonders how the hell you manage to operate with a boyfriend like that, but she tries not to ask questions.

speaking of the wonder twins, they love getting you in trouble. whenever the two of them think up an astonishingly moronic shenanigan, there's a solid 50/50 chance that you'll be looped into it, too. one time, they purposefully dulled jean's razor, and when he went to shave, it only ended in him splitting his face open due to placing too much pressure. as a joke, those two jackasses carved your initials into the handle. when jean decided that he'd murder you, connie tried playing the hero, lEapiNg to your defense. it was stupid, and it didn't work. you still laugh about it, though.

there have been several jokes regarding starting a family and growing old together— secretly, though, connie doesn't want them to just be jokes.

he stole a stray cat for you. yup, yes he did. the two of you were walking about the city, and you saw a gray-haired sleeping beside a trash bin behind a local vendor. you compared its fur to the color of his hair, calling it cute. out of impulse, connie went back to that exact same vendor later on that day, trapped the cat in a box, and brought it to your doorstep.

his forearms and fingertips were covered in claw marks, but to see your face light up the way that it did, any amount of pain was immediately worth it.

after the nickname that shadis had given connie on the first day of cadet training, you named the kitty q-ball. 🥺

during the season four era, the two of you share a house. at first, captain levi argued against it— "put a pair of horny teenagers in a home together, what do you think is gonna happen?"

y'all said fuck it, and lived together anyways. it's you, him, and your lovely child, q-ball. occasionally jean, too. some nights, he doesn't want to be alone.

eskimo kisses. during the prepping of every single mission, you'll get eskimo kisses. it's a small, loving gesture the two of you do before heading into the battlefield. as a sign of your love, you'll press your foreheads together and rub noses, weapons holstered and ready for combat. it's a serious tradition, and it'll never be ignored.

and after a mission, connie has this habit of pinching your cheeks immediately after rushing towards you. it isn't to be cute, either. it's so that he can scan you, and check you for any harm. basically, it's him squeezing the life out of your face while bombarding you with questions.

expect supremely cheesy pet names! bae, biscuit, buttercup, baby thing, sexy bitch, and so on. if it were anyone else, he would 100% make fun of them. but it's him, therefore adorable.

[mandoalorian]

hey rach! sooo about max birthday requests could you make a love letter from max?👀 lol i know u usually don't write characters' letters but i would combust if u write a max's one🥺 lmao, anyway thank uuu, ily💓

Love letter from Max Lord

Gender neutral reader x Maxwell Lord

Not showing up in the tags so reblogs would be so appreciated<3

The envelope was the only thing in your mailbox that morning. You didn’t pay much attention to mail, it was a bad habit of yours. You took the letter and threw it haphazardly on your coffee table, freezing up when you noticed the handwriting, doted neatly on the front. It was perfect, inked black calligraphy. And you recognised it all too well.

You weren’t sure how long you were frozen to the ground. Maybe three, four, five, ten minutes? It felt like a lifetime as a thousand thoughts raced through your head at one hundred miles per hour. You were overthinking. You were definitely overthinking.

You hadn’t seen him in twenty years. Twenty whole years and not a single utterance was spoken between either of you. You were in your right mind to just shred the letter and throw it in the trash— because what could he possibly want from you?

Maxwell Lorenzano; your childhood best friend. He’d promised you, when he left to embark on his new life, he promised you he’d write, or at least call. And like the lovestruck dumb fool you were, you waited for him. You waited for him your whole life and he never came back to you. So many empty promises, but your heart felt like it might never heal.

After hours of doting, and pacing backwards and forwards, you decided to open the letter. You’d waited this long for him to reach out — and now he finally had.

——————————————————

Dated: July 7th 1984.

My love,

I don’t know if this letter will ever reach you, but I’m writing it anyway. I can only hope you live at the same address. Although I suppose that would also be a real shame, wouldn’t it? I know how much you wanted to leave that hell-hole of a town. It’s a cloudy day in D.C., especially for Summer. I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately. Okay well, I think about you a lot all the time... Do you ever think about me? A lot has happened recently, I’m not sure if you’ve heard...

But I’ve been spending some time reflecting on my mistakes and regrets. I know you always said I should have no regrets but... it’s difficult, you know? Something I need to work on. Maybe you can help me? I never called or wrote to you like I promised I would, all those years ago. And I’m sorry, I really am. The truth is, I spent so much of my time trying to repress my childhood and all the trauma. Tried to focus on other things, bigger things, better things. Wanted to do better. Be better. Be the best. I guess I kind of got lost along the way.

Something happened. Maybe one day I can explain it to you, but there just isn’t enough paper in the world for me to explain it through this letter. It was... unbelievable. A phenomena. And it got me thinking about you.

I miss you. From the moment I left town, I’ve missed you. And it caused me so much pain that I just repressed my feelings. That’s why I didn’t call. I know, I can’t excuse it, and I don’t expect you to forgive me, but it’s the truth.

I’d have these dreams about you... and us... and what we could’ve been if I had never left. Because yes, amidst all my wealth and fortune and success, I still thought about what things would be like if we still lived in the same neighbourhood. Still hung out every night, walking along the river hand in hand and counting the stars above us. It’s funny, there may be distance between us, but every time I look up at the moon, I’m reminded of you and how much you loved it. And I’m comforted in knowing that although we live very different lives, we’re both living underneath the same sky. We both look up and see the same moon.

I wish you could see D.C., it’s wonderful. I think you’d really like it. All the skyscrapers and parks and places to go shopping. It’s nothing like back home.

Shit, I really do miss you. It’s been too long. I think about our final days together. When I kissed you under the big willow tree in your grandmother’s garden. Do you remember? It still haunts me. The perfect taste of your cherry lips and

Did you ever marry? Or settle down? Are you... dating right now? I married, I’m not sure if you heard. We didn’t last long, but I got a son out of it. His name is Alistair and he’s six years old. I’d love for you to meet him, I think you’d both get along really well.

Is my dad

Is my father

Is my father still alive?

I miss you. I want to see you. I need to see you. Hold you. Kiss you again. Please write back and tell me you want to see me too. Please.

I’ve made mistakes, terrible mistakes. But I know never to make the same mistake twice. If you could find it in your heart to forgive me...

Because I still love you. I never stopped, really.

I’m so sorry.

Yours forever, Max.

———————————————

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[vannahfanfics]

Worthy

Category: Romantic Fluff

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Characters: Shoto Todoroki, Momo Yaoyorozu

Hey, everyone! I'm happy to present the piece I wrote for the @todorokibigbang! Enjoy some TodoMomo wedding fluff <3 Also, be sure to check out the absolutely stunning art by my partner, @danyartime​! 

Shoto sucked in a deep breath as he straightened his bowtie for the tenth time in the last minute, using his reflection in the mirror to ensure that the wine red accessory hugged the collar of his white button-down shirt snugly. As his hands fell, they automatically itched to smooth down the nonexistent creases in the thick, sleek fabric of his tuxedo jacket. He smoothed his palms down his front anyway, until they met the band of his black dress pants. Just as he began to wonder if he should re-shine his shoes, he realized just exactly where his mind was derailing and smiled sardonically to himself. 

Natsuo told me about the pre-wedding jitters, but I never imagined they would be this bad. 

Of course, Shoto had no compulsions to flee the altar; proposing to his soon-to-be wife was the greatest decision he had ever made. He would happily give her his heart, his world, everything he could offer, and more without sparing a second thought. However, as he stood there fidgeting in front of the floor-length mirror, listening to his groomsmen bicker and laugh in the adjoining room, Shoto would be remiss to admit that he wasn’t nervous. 

He couldn’t help but wonder if he was deserving of all this— friends and family to surround him as he passes into the next chapter of his life and a successful career as a burgeoning pro hero with a sound investment in an agency that he, Izuku, and Katsuki were slowly building from the ground up—all of which he could share with his beloved. After all the trials and tribulations of his young life, it all seemed so… easy. Shoto was far from perfect and had his regrets, so how could this wonderful life just have fallen into his hands?

As he ruminated, he smacked his lips, his mouth going uncomfortably dry, eyebrows furrowed as he sipped at a bottle of water. Shoto had never entertained these thoughts before—not when he graduated, not when he broke out as a professional hero, and not even on his worst days when he couldn’t save anyone—so it was mighty conspicuous that his subconscious chose now of all days to second-guess himself. He scrunched up his face as he tried to will away the anxiety gnawing at his insides. 

Ever since high school, you’ve worked hard to become who you are now. There’s no reason why you shouldn’t enjoy the comforts you slaved for… he told himself, but it rang hollowly in his heavy heart. He drained the water bottle and tossed it in the trash, grimace not leaving his face. His tongue still felt bone-dry and coated with ash. As he paced the small room, rubbing his sweaty palms on his thighs, there was a quiet knock at the door that led to the hallway. 

“Hey, Sho, it’s us!” called Natsuo’s cheerful voice, followed by Fuyumi chirping a greeting. Running a hand through his hair and checking himself in the mirror to make sure he didn’t look too rattled, he hurried to the door and opened it. His elder siblings wore identical smiles as they looked him up and down. 

“You sure clean up nice,” Natsuo grinned as he looped an arm around Shoto’s neck and tugged him down to affectionately ruffle his hair. “Look at you, so big now that you’re getting married, huh? Man, how time flies.”

Shoto grunted as he tugged himself away, indignantly smoothing down his hair. The strands were fine and ordered enough that he didn’t have to bother doing anything, but he didn’t want to meet his bride with flyaways sticking up all over his head. “Natsuo…” 

“Hey, stud, not having any second thoughts, are you?” the white-haired man grinned playfully, nudging him with an elbow. Shoto blinked, floored by his elder brother’s sudden inquiry. 

“What? Of course not!” he answered in bewilderment. Natsuo seemed entertained and had no implications that it was an inappropriate thing to ask. 

“Good, good!” Natsuo chimed. He then glanced at Fuyumi as she began to sniffle. 

“I can’t believe it… Our Shoto is all grown up…” she moaned and dabbed at the tears blooming in the corners of her eyes. “Next thing you know, he’ll be having babies and will slowly move out of our lives…” 

Shoto turned beet red at the mention of having children. It wasn’t out of the question, but it certainly wasn’t on his mind right now, so it unnerved him a little to have it brought up in conversation. He swallowed the nervous nausea in favor of stepping forward to wrap his sister up in a gentle hug. He was taller than her now, so she could nestle right into the crook of his shoulder and cry. 

“Fuyumi, I’m not going anywhere,” he laughed lightly. “You’re still my family. I know life gets busy, but I’m still going to make every effort to see you all.” 

“Really?” Fuyumi gasped as her head snapped up. Shoto tried not to laugh at the black smudges of mascara under her eyes and smiled reassuringly. 

“Of course,” he said before leaning down to kiss the top of her head. The sweet action made Fuyumi start blubbering again, and no amount of dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief prevented the mascara from streaming down her flushed cheeks. Natsuo led her away to the bathroom, trying to suppress his snickers as Fuyumi wailed about “what a good young boy Shoto turned out to be,” and left Shoto in the doorway. 

What a good young boy he turned out to be, her words echoed in the dark of his mind. Though her words should fill him with pride and love, the only thing that rose up within Shoto was the cold emptiness of doubt. He leaned in the doorframe as his breath left him in a heavy sigh, and he stared at the place his siblings had rounded the corner. Fuyumi’s crying face flashed in his mind. 

Why was she crying in the first place? Why would she ever think that I would abandon them? The notion made nervous butterflies flutter in his stomach. Had Shoto perhaps been negligent with his family? Sure, they were the textbook definition of dysfunctional, but after his first semester at U.A., he’d done his best to try to mend their fractured relationship. Had he not done enough? Did Fuyumi really believe that now that he’d found a wife, he’d just make his own little family and forget all about them? 

He scowled as that irritating dryness returned to his mouth, making him run a hand over his lips. His entire family would be attending the ceremony today. He thought that was because they were there to support him, but could it be mere pretense? Or worse, did they all believe that after today they would see less and less of him until routine visits became replaced with excuses? He squirmed in the doorway as a pang of guilt began to prickle at him. 

Before he could dwell on that unsettling thought, someone called his name from down the hall. He looked up to see the looming bulk of his father striding towards him. Shoto involuntarily straightened up, blinking as Enji came to a stop in front of him. 

“Hello, son,” Enji coughed uncomfortably, tugging at the baby-blue tie tucked into his gray suit jacket. Shoto could tell that Enji was trying to hide his nervousness by the way he kept his head held high and the nervous twitches in his face muscles. Even now, after Shoto had grown into a young man, their relationship still had its strains, yet Shoto wasn’t petty enough to deny his father witnessing his marriage, so he’d still invited him. Enji’s eyes raked over him before giving an approving nod. “It suits you,” he said with a vague gesture to his tuxedo. 

“Thanks.” 

Enji shuffled his weight from one large foot to the other, chewing on the inside of his cheek as he struggled to gather his words. “Father, is there something you want to say?” 

“I, uh,” Enji gulped and scratched at his close-cropped auburn hair. “I just wanted… I just wanted to tell you… how proud I am of you, Shoto,” he mumbled, voice dropping with every word. Shoto’s face blanched in shock, causing him to just stare dumbly up at his father. Enji continued to fidget nervously, fumbling through his fatherly dotage. “You’ve, uh… You’ve come a long way. I know that a part of you will never forgive me for what I’ve done, and I know now that the way I treated you was not right. I’m, uh… very grateful that you’re even allowing me to be here to see you get married.” 

“Father, it’s not—” 

“Please let me finish,” Enji blurted, going a little pink in the face. Shoto nodded respectfully, and Enji grumbled under his breath, “How should I say this?” He contemplated anxiously for a moment before continuing, “You’re a fine young man and a fine young hero, a better one than I ever could have dreamed of, and you did that all on your own. Even if I don’t deserve it, it’s an honor to call you my son.” 

Shoto’s throat bobbed as it grew a little tight. 

“Thanks, Father…” 

“I know you’ll go on to do amazing things,” Enji said, seeming to relax as Shoto didn't outright reject his sentiments. He laid a large hand on Shoto’s shoulders. “You’ve made a promising career for yourself because of your hard work in school. Japan couldn’t ask for a finer hero.” Enji held onto his shoulder a second before he coughed uncomfortably and retracted. “I, um… I had better go now. Sorry if I interrupted anything.” It looked like he wanted to embrace Shoto, but he merely offered him a handshake. Shoto shook his hand, still slightly dazed from his father’s emotional speech, and then watched him head towards the entryway. 

Enji paused and looked back at him with knitted eyebrows. 

“Are you… Are you all right, Shoto? You seem tense. You aren’t having any second thoughts, are you?” 

There it is again… Why was everyone asking that? Was that just a thing people asked the groom on their wedding day? Was it really that common for grooms to leave their brides? 

“Of course not, Father. I couldn’t be happier.” 

Enji nodded thoughtfully, staring at him a moment, before uttering a terse, “Good.” Then he was gone, and Shoto was alone again. 

Japan couldn’t ask for a finer hero.

Well, Shoto certainly didn’t feel very fine right now. Shoto had to crawl his way up to the top alongside his classmates. He thought of Fuyumi, of how she’d cried and begged Shoto not to leave them. Maybe he was devoting too much energy to his career. What would the adoring public think if they learned that Shoto was forsaking all the important things in his life to be the best? They’d call him an egotist, for sure. Was that what he was? 

Once again, he thought about how easily everything seemed to be falling into place. Could that be because Shoto was sacrificing other things in the process? Or worse, was this “vision” of his easy life all an illusion? 

What if all of this isn’t as it seems, and I really don’t deserve any of it? 

Just as panic began to pump through his system, he was jolted out of his thoughts by the door to the adjoining room slamming open. He whirled around to see Katsuki stomping into the room, his face nearly as red as the wine red of his boutonniere. The volatile blond was dragging Shoto’s best man in by the collar, clearly to complain about something he didn’t approve of. 

Shoto raised his eyebrows as Katsuki slung a very frightened Izuku to the ground in front of him. 

“K-Kacchan! It’s not that serious!” the green-haired boy whined as he rolled over to sit cross-legged on the floor and pout. Katsuki snorted haughtily and craned up his head, nose upturned so far that he was nearly looking at the ceiling. 

“Idiot! I’ll never understand why this Icy-Hot bastard chose you as his best man! Do you know what this loser just suggested?” Katsuki accused with a sharp point at the sulking Izuku while he rounded on Shoto. Nonplussed, Shoto just shook his head. “‘Hey, why don’t we send Shoto to check and see if the girls are ready’?” Katsuki mocked in a high-pitched, squeaky rendition of Izuku’s voice. “Moron!” Katsuki yelled and leaned down over Izuku, hands on his hips while Izuku blushed and rubbed at the side of his face. “Don’t you know it’s bad luck for the groom to see the bride? A best man would know that!” 

“I just wanted to make sure everything was coming along well,” Izuku explained meekly. “If there was a problem, I wanted to make sure we knew about it and could plan accordingly…” 

“Then send one of the other extras, not the fucking groom!” 

As the two began to bicker back and forth, Shoto sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head. Honestly, he should have known better than to stick the two in a room together, but their venue didn’t really give them a choice. It was an antiquated millhouse fashioned into a wedding venue; the bridal party dressed in a small suite upstairs from the main floor where the wedding would be held, while the men prepared in a small, two-room shack next door. They’d been charmed by the rustic and quaint nature of the venue, as neither of them wanted a grand affair of their wedding, but Shoto was beginning to wonder if perhaps they should have opted for somewhere with more space and privacy… 

“Enough,” Shoto barked as his frustration reached a boil. Izuku and Katsuki both stopped mid-chatter to look at him with wide eyes. “I appreciate the sentiments, both of you, but I would rather not quibble on my wedding day, thank you.” He sagged a little as the weariness began to take its toll. Arguing was really the least of his problems right now, considering he was shouldering an existential crisis. Izuku and Katsuki both looked at each other before squinting at him suspiciously. 

“Hey, you all right, man?” Katsuki asked. 

“You seem tense, Shoto. Are you okay? You’re not getting second thoughts, are you?” Izuku gasped worriedly. He shot to his feet to grab Shoto by the shoulders. “Please don’t tell me you’re considering calling off the wedding! Don’t worry! Lots of guys get nervous with this kind of commitment! But please, remember that you love—” 

“Izuku,” Shoto interrupted with a weary smile and gently pushed his friend in the chest. “I’m not having second thoughts. Please don’t worry about that.” As Izuku deflated in relief, Shoto wondered if he should tell his friends about his real doubts. After a microsecond of consideration, he decided not to. Katsuki would probably just tell him to man up, and Izuku would go on an entire blabbering speech, and that’s not really what Shoto needed right now. Smiling thinly, Shoto placed his hand on Izuku’s shoulder. “I’m all right, really. There’s just been a lot of planning and preparation today, so I just want things to go well.” 

“Right! Of course! As your best man, that’s my job! I’ll go right now and make sure everything is in order, okay? Don’t you worry, Shoto, I’ll make sure this goes off without a hitch!” 

Before Shoto could insist that it really wasn’t necessary, the green-haired boy had zoomed off, untied dress shoe laces flapping behind him. Shoto looked after him with a small chuckle. Izuku had always been a bit flighty, but he really was an invaluable friend to him, so that’s why he had been the obvious choice for Shoto’s best man. He couldn’t imagine anyone else standing next to him when he greeted his bride at the altar. 

The doubt crept up into his mind with its poisonous whispers. Izuku was a good friend, but did Shoto deserve a friend like that? Had he even come close to repaying all the things that Izuku had done for him? The smile fell from his lips as the cold guilt flushed through him once more. 

“Oi.” 

Shoto looked at Katsuki with unfocused eyes, still half-brooding. Katsuki’s crimson eyes thinned into small slivers as he squinted suspiciously. “Seriously, Icy-Hot, are you okay? You don’t… seem like yourself,” the blond asked slowly. 

Shoto’s eyes widened slightly in surprise. Katsuki was as prickly as his wild hair, so to have him so readily show concern and inquire about Shoto’s wellbeing definitely dragged him out of his stupor. Again, Shoto debated whether or not to come clean about the disordered mess that was currently his mind. 

Shoto had never been much of a fibber, but for some reason, the lies rolled so easily off his tongue today. 

“As I told Izuku, I’m fine,” he said smoothly, feigning a grateful smile. “I think all the wedding planning just caught up to me at once, that’s all. I’m sure if I just take a moment to relax and gather my thoughts, I’ll be alright. We still have plenty of time before the main event.” 

Katsuki continued to eye him with his lips parted in a skeptical pout, but instead of prying, he just slowly nodded his head a few times. 

“All right. If you say so. I’m gonna go make sure that loser doesn’t mess anything up,” he decided, brushing past Shoto to walk to the door. He paused on the threshold to toss a blank stare over his shoulder. “Don’t think too much. You’ve always been the type to get too in your head,” he advised before continuing after Izuku. Shoto went to step after him, hand raised, but Katsuki was already gone. His arm flopped back down to his side as he released a shaky breath. 

“Maybe I am thinking too much…” he murmured to himself.

He’d like to convince himself of that, but that little beast inside him just snickered. Are you sure that’s not just another one of your lies? it taunted. He rubbed his neck as that ash-choking feeling returned, his body trembling with a few tight coughs. Izuku and Katsuki both seemed so concerned for him… Did he really deserve that concern? Maybe they weren’t really even concerned about him, but were more worried he’d take off and leave his fiancé a shattered, sobbing mess at the altar. Had Shoto been selfish in his friendships? 

Had he been selfish in his relationship? Everyone kept asking the same question… What if they could see that selfishness and were on edge because they all kept thinking that he couldn’t stick it out, that he was too self-absorbed? Shoto’s breaths began to come in terse, ragged gasps as he spiraled into a self-esteem crash. 

What was wrong with him? Why was he thinking like this? He pawed at his head with a small groan. Nothing made sense; everything was swirling around in his head like a whirlwind. He stumbled out of the doorway and slammed it shut in front of him before collapsing against it. The painted wood was cool against his flushing face. 

Breathe. Breathe, he tried to calm himself, gulping down air.

It burned; his throat felt like it was drying up into a desert. Just as he stumbled into the center of the room, blearily looking for water, there was a soft knock at the door. It rang in his pounding head like a death knell. He clenched his teeth as he struggled to come down to earth instead of rocketing himself into the stratosphere. 

I need… I need to calm down… 

“Shoto?” his mother’s voice timidly called. Her soft-spoken tone sliced through the layer of anxiety clouding his mind, allowing him to descend back to reality. He closed his eyes as he composed himself, steadying his ragged breaths and slowing his heart rate. That’s right… I can’t… I can’t let her know I’m like this. 

After he was confident he was presentable, Shoto crossed the floor in a few quick strides to open the door for her. Rei smiled sweetly up at him before her slate-gray eyes dropped to admire the way the tuxedo accented his muscular form. She ran her small hands down his sleeves before linking her fingers with his and giving them a gentle squeeze. He hoped she didn’t notice that they were trembling. “You look so handsome,” she praised, looking back up at him lovingly. 

“Thank you, Mother,” Shoto smiled. He walked backward into the room, tugging on his mother’s fingers so she would follow, and Rei gently shut the door behind her. She walked to the floor-length mirror to inspect her own look— a baby-blue dress patterned with white flowers tied together with white flats and a baby-blue headband. “You also look lovely,” he added while retrieving another bottle of water from the mini-fridge in the corner. Rei hummed gratefully at his appraisal, watching him guzzle half of the plastic bottle through her reflection. 

“Are you nervous, dear?” she asked abruptly. Shoto flinched in surprise, which made him lurch forward and spill water down his windpipe. He spluttered and coughed, eyes watering at the burning sensation overtaking his throat, while Rei turned around to look at him in concern. As he wiped the stream of water and spit from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, he debated lying to her. However, all notions of that flew out the window when he caught her soft, motherly gaze. “It’s natural, dear,” she reassured as she walked over to him. 

Lie. She doesn’t need to know, chimed that anxious beast. It was tempting; Shoto could feel the excuse forming on his tongue. Except… no words came out. He looked helplessly at her, causing her expression to morph into one of intense concern. Shoto didn’t want to lie. He didn’t want to feel this way— selfish and egotistical and undeserving of his life. 

His life with her. 

“Shoto. Tell me what’s wrong,” she ordered, her voice just firm enough to abolish any remaining ideas of lying to her. 

Shoto exhaled deeply and sagged down onto the small sofa next to the fridge. His mother could read him with scary precision, so there really was no use lying, anyway. She stopped in front of him to weave her slim fingers into his two-toned hair, and he responded by leaning forward to press his forehead into her belly. Rei softly scratched along his scalp in rhythmic, soothing strokes, and though she really hadn’t said anything, even the action alone made Shoto relax just the tiniest bit. 

“What’s bothering you?”

He expected her to ask him if he was having second thoughts, just like the rest of them—but she didn’t. Shoto swallowed thickly before answering in a tiny voice. “I just realized how lucky I am, and I’m not quite sure I’m deserving of it.” 

“What makes you say that, my love?” she questioned. Shoto pushed himself further into her stomach, comforted by her soft, soothing presence. Yet all the while, something nickered in the back of his mind. You abandoned her for years. You don’t deserve her comfort. Sickened by the thought, Shoto pushed himself away, grabbing a throw pillow to bury his face in it instead. He heard Rei softly gasp; then, the couch cushion dipped beside him as she tentatively sat down. He curled around the throw pillow, stomach whirling as all his anxieties came to a boil. 

“Shoto,” she whispered and laid a gentle hand on the small of his back. “Talk to me, Shoto.” 

Even though he had rejected her in favor of the pillow, he found himself falling against her. She held him close as he curled against her side. He was so much bigger than her now, but he still felt like he fit naturally into her petite frame. Slowly, he pried his face away from the pillow to reveal that the fabric had darkened with tears. He looked at her brokenly, the salty droplets rolling down his cheeks. 

“Am I selfish, Mother?” he asked hoarsely, horrifiedly. Surely he must be, if everyone kept asking him if he would turn tail and run. “If I’m selfish, and am turning everyone away, then won’t… won’t I end up pushing her away and breaking her heart?” Just the thought of it broke Shoto’s, shattered it into a million little pieces. The love of his life, his dream, his salvation—the thought of doing that to her made him want to die, and the thought that he was already well on his way there made him want to die right now. 

“Shoto, sweetheart,” Rei breathed and pulled him into a crushing hug. Shoto squeezed his eyes shut and buried himself into her, breathing in her scent of floral perfume and ice water. She kissed the top of his head before resting her cheek against it. “You are not selfish. What on Earth has gotten that into your head?” 

“I just… Everyone keeps asking if I’m having second thoughts. Fuyumi was really upset thinking that I won’t be around anymore, and then Father came to talk to me about how far I’ve come as a hero, and then Izuku and Katsuki were worried about me, and—” he sucked in a breath after everything came tumbling out, trying to sort his disordered thoughts. “I just… Everything seems like it’s falling into place, and I just can’t help but think that it shouldn’t be. That it’s too easy, and because of that, I must be messing up somewhere, right?” As he looked at her, conflicted, Rei smiled reassuringly and brushed a strand of his red-and-white hair out of his face. 

“Shoto, honey, you deserve everything you’re being given. If I can’t convince you of that, though,” she smiled mischievously and gestured at the door with her chin, “maybe she can.” 

A blush exploded up from Shoto’s neck to flush all the way to the crown of his head. He grabbed the pillow and smashed his face into it, flopping across Rei’s lap to smoosh down into the couch for good measure. His mother laughed at his overreaction, barely masking the click of heels over the wood. 

“Shoto?” came the tentative voice. What is she doing here? He thought, heart pounding in his throat. 

“Sorry,” he heard Izuku say meekly. “Shoto was just so out of sorts… I thought the only one who could snap him out of it was her…” 

“Idiot! Didn’t I say it was bad luck?” Katsuki scolded. Shoto heard him huff and the creak of the pressed fabric of his tuxedo as he crossed his arms. “But, Icy-Hot is acting pretty weird today… All right, do your stuff.” 

Shoto just squirmed uncomfortably, listening to the ruffles of the lace and the soft click of heels as the woman he would be meeting at the aisle in another hour or two stopped beside him. 

“Shoto,” Momo said, the laughter evident in her voice. God, he loved her voice. It was like a song, high and sweet. “Honey, what’s the matter?” 

“Can’t look,” he mumbled evasively. “Bad luck.” 

“You don’t have to look at me, then,” she chuckled, reaching down to soothingly run a hand over his back. He found himself arching a little into her touch, calm spreading through his nerves. “Just talk to me, sweetie.” Her white gown ruffled as she kneeled down on the floor beside him. Shoto dug his fingers into the pillow, wondering if there was a way out of this mortifying situation. There wasn’t, and he really didn’t want an out, anyway. She continued to stroke down the length of his spine. “Shoto, honey, you know you’re not selfish, right?” 

The silence told Momo all she needed to know. She exhaled deeply, and he didn’t have to look at her to know she was wearing that sweet, loving smile she always wore when she comforted him. “Let me tell you something. Not for a single second have I felt neglected, nor have I had any inclination that you were sacrificing your personal life for the sake of your career,” she iterated slowly. Shoto squirmed as her reassurance battled with the poisonous beast inside him. 

“Maybe I haven’t done it to you yet, but… What about my friends and family?” 

“Boys?” Momo asked, presumably looking at Katsuki and Izuku. “Have you ever felt like Shoto hasn’t been a good friend?”

“What? No! Of course not!” Izuku blurted. “You’re an amazing friend! I can always count on you to be there when I need it, no matter what we’re doing.” 

“Yeah. If anything, he can shove off, the Icy-Hot bastard.” 

“Kacchan!” 

“What? He’s up our asses all the time!” 

“That’s because we’re partners, Kacchan! We’re gonna open up our own agency, remember?”

“That doesn’t mean he has to show up at my house for some stupid soba party he decided to have without telling anyone!” 

Shoto found his lips curling into a tiny smile into the pillow. It was a shame that bickering was so familiar, and so comforting. Momo giggled sweetly and patted him on the back. 

“See, honey? Your friends certainly don’t think you’re selfish and pushing them away.” 

Although it was a start, Shoto couldn’t help but think of his sobbing sister. 

“But… Fuyumi…” 

“Shoto, that isn’t what Fuyumi meant at all,” Rei chortled and rubbed the back of his head. “Fuyumi just felt like a mother bird watching her chick leave the nest… Women get emotional over things like that. Your sister—and the rest of us, for that matter—all know you love us very much and want to stay an active part of our lives. I’ve enjoyed every minute of watching you grow into a man, and have never felt like you were abandoning me. You’re growing up. That is a reality we must face, and sometimes… It’s a little tough for us, that’s all.” 

“That’s right,” Momo seconded. “See? We all love you, Shoto, so much. Please don’t ever think that you’re selfish, because you’re far from it.” He felt his eyes water as the emotions caused her voice to crack, indicating she was on the border of tears. Though he couldn’t look at her like he wanted to, he groped blindly in the air, searching for her hand. Momo caught it in both of hers to give it a tight squeeze, then pressed a lingering kiss to his knuckles. “Every day I’m thankful that you’ve chosen to love me,” she murmured against his skin, and he felt her tears drip down onto his hand. “My selfless hero.” 

“Momo,” he groaned. When she hummed against his hand, he smiled weakly. “I appreciate you coming to cheer me up, but if you don’t leave now, I’m going to have to commit some wedding taboo.” 

Momo laughed heartily, uttering small “okay’s” between her giggles, and slowly stood up. His fingers skimmed against the soft fabric of her lace skirt, and he found himself extraordinarily tempted to peek; but he didn’t. He knew that it would be a feeling like no other when he saw her walking down the aisle, so he just had to wait a little bit longer. 

“Thank you both for looking out for him,” Momo said to Katsuki and Izuku as she left. “I’ll see you soon!” 

Shoto waited until the clacks of her heels faded before he slowly sat up, rubbing at his tear-sticky face. Rei looked at him with a loving smile. 

“Do you feel better, sweetie?” 

“Mhmm,” he nodded with a sleepy smile. Having an existential crisis sure was exhausting. Still, his nerves soon began to buzz with the anticipation of what was yet to come. “How long until the ceremony?” he asked, looking expectantly at Izuku and Katsuki. 

“About forty-five minutes, but it doesn’t matter, because there’s no way in Hell I’m letting you walk out like that. Get your ass in here!” Katsuki growled as he marched over and snatched him up by the collar. Shoto could only stumble after him as he was dragged into the groomsmens’ room, while Rei and Izuku both looked on laughing. 

Forty-four minutes later, Katsuki had combed his messy hair back to submission and managed to erase almost all evidence of his puffy eyes and teary cheeks.

Now, Shoto stood rocking on his heels in front of the steel altar woven with ivy, wine-red roses, and white dahlias. Momo’s bridesmaids— Ochako, Mina, Tooru, and Tsuyu—were across the altar on the left, while Shoto’s groomsmen—Katsuki, Tenya, Inasa, Kirishima—and his best man Izuku were behind him to his right. Stretching out before him were rows of chairs, each one filled by someone special in his and Momo’s lives. Their families sat in the front row with bated breath. The ceremony was held in the main room while the reception would be held in an adjoining one—and in between them was a winding spiral staircase that Momo would be walking down any moment. 

Shoto straightened up as the pianist began to play. His heterochromatic eyes were fixated on the staircase and his breath stilled in his chest. He caught the flash of her heel first, then the ruffles of her lace skirt as she slowly began to descend from upstairs. Shoto’s mouth gradually fell open as she came down from the heavens like an angel, here to grace his undeserving mortal self with her rapturous love. She was chuckling quietly to her father, who held her arm as he guided her down the steps. Kyoka came down last, carrying the long train of Momo’s dress. 

He had been right to wait. It was a gorgeous sleeveless mermaid gown that hugged her beautiful figure in all the right ways. A swathe of wine red cut the skirt in half and adorned the bodice of her dress in thin, swirling threads that looked like roses. Her soft tresses of black hair were piled above her head before falling down in luscious curls to frame her face. A tiara was tucked into her hair, securing the sheer white veil cascading over her. She held a bouquet of white and red flowers as she slowly walked down the aisle, which had been laden with rose and dahlia petals by the flower girl. Even through the veil, Shoto could see her brimming with joy just by the aura radiating off her. 

When she stopped next to him, giving her father a kiss on the cheek before he left to sit with the rest of the audience, Shoto could only gape in pure awe. He didn’t even register the priest speaking. 

“Honey,” Momo laughed quietly. “You might want to pay attention.” 

“Right,” he said and snapped his mouth shut, blushing as a few of the wedding party snickered and elbowed one another. His gaze snuck back to his beautiful bride, the love of his life, who stood so patiently waiting to read her vows. When she felt him staring, she smirked and looked at him out of the corners of her eyes. 

“What?” 

“I’m just realizing how lucky I am,” he explained softly. She looked at him with a confused smile. “I get to share this life I’ve made with the most wonderful woman on the planet. I thought at first I wasn’t worthy of it, but now… I’ve realized.” 

“Realized what, Shoto?” 

“Why I worked so hard for a life like this to begin with. I wanted to become a man deserving of your love, Momo,” he explained, reaching out to gently ghost his fingers over hers. “I’m just really glad to hear that you think I’m worthy.” 

“Silly,” she laughed, tears slipping down her cheeks and clinging to the sheer lace of the veil. “You’ve always been worthy.” 

Maybe that’s the way she felt. It was just a testament to how beautiful she was, right down to her soul. But now, after this whirlwind of a day, Shoto could rest easy knowing that he really was. Because she was his angel, his goddess, his salvation, and his life, and she was worthy of everything he had to give her and more—and he would work tirelessly every day to live up to that, to keep himself worthy.

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

[justanotherpersonsuniverse]

Demon Alya submission (starts off angsty, gets fluffy at the end) made by Anon

Alya hissed with pain and strained to get up, but the magic sigils which had been chalked around her blazed with a strange pale light and her body slammed back to the hard cement floor. Her tail lashed back and forth wildly, hard enough that it hurt when its tip smacked against the wall, and her wings beat futilely to break out of the iron bindings that bent then flat against her back. “You sure we can’t work this out?” she asked in the best ‘temptation’ voice she could muster despite her pain. “I can give you power, wealth, fame…”

“I need no fame, demon scum,” boomed the exorcist who had bound her. He was an older man whose hair was going silver and who wore what looked like a cross between a priest’s cassock and a military uniform. He had a sword at his side whose blade was carved with holy sigils, and a few other exorcist accoutrements hung off his belt. Now he raised a book high while his eyes, which seemed almost to be trying to bulge out of his head, fixated on her. “All I need is the knowledge that you shall be destroyed forever, as God intended!”

Alya bit back a curse. She was still mad at herself for letting this guy get the jump on her, but by the time she’d realized that she was being followed, he was close enough to use some kind of magic spell to make her pass out. She’d awoken in what looked like a cheap basement, with a cement floor and bare plaster on the walls, and with sigils and iron bonds preventing her from escaping. “You can’t destroy me forever,” she snapped. “You might be able to banish me back to Hell, but I’ll be back on Earth eventually.”

Of course, that wasn’t a great scenario for Alya. Not only would she get in trouble for losing a fight with an exorcist, and not only would she fall behind on her soul quota, but her classmates wouldn’t know where she’d gone. It would be just like she’d abandoned them. And Alya couldn’t bear to think of how sad Juleka would be if Alya cut and run, or the rest of her cult, or… or Marinette. Alya knew Marinette would be devastated, and she desperately wanted that not to happen, but there didn’t seem to be anything she could do about it.

Then the man laughed. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you, you little depraved beast? You’d love to be able to turn and wreck havoc once more. But I’ve found a way around it!” He tossed a little voodoo doll next to Alya. “I will bind your spiritual essence to this doll, then burn it. As the doll crumbles in the flame your spiritual essence will be split asunder. When I’m done you’ll be little more than millions of tiny bits of demon, each tied to a tiny bit of ash, and that ash scattered to the winds.” He grinned. “It could take thousands of years for the bindings to weaken enough for you to reconstitute yourself and even begin trying to regain a corporal form. And seeing as how you’ll be in utter agony the entire time, I highly doubt you’ll be sane enough to tempt any more innocents into your clutches!”

Alya gasped. What the man proposed might actually work, and would subject her to millennia of torture. And worse than that… by the time she put herself back together, her classmates would have been dead for millennia. She’d never see them again unless they went to Hell. And she’d never see Marinette, period, because that girl was so pure she’d surely get rushed right to Heaven the moment she died. 

She’d never see her best friend again. 

“You can’t do this!” Alya said, almost ashamed of how terrified her voice was but not being able to help it. “Please!”

“Silence, demon scum,” said the exorcist. “All your kind deserve this.” He began to chant, and Alya cried out in pain as she felt her essence being pulled towards the doll. She tried to fight it—

And then the door to the basement smashed open.

By the time Alya realized what was happening, she saw Rose—holding a flaming sword, wings spread to their full length, halo blazing such a righteous fire above her head that Alya could barely look at it—looming over the man, whom had been knocked into the wall and slid down. “YOU DON’T DO THIS!” screamed Rose in genuine rage. “EVER!”

The man stared at Rose in terrified shock. Rose glared at him, then turned to Alya and swung her sword at the sigils. They burst into a bright flash of light and vanished as soon as her holy blade touched them, and Alya was able to scrambled out of the former circle. A couple quick, careful strokes of Rose’s sword sliced the iron bindings from Alya’s back, and she sighed with relief as she stretched her wings.

“What are you doing?“ the man demanded. “Don’t free her! You are an angel, you must support our battles against demons. They are evil beasts who tempt others, so it is right that we hurt them! That we banish them and make them suffer all the pain they have inflicted—“

“IT IS NOT YOURS TO JUDGE!” screamed Rose loud enough that the man flinched back. She took an angry breath and said, “If a demon is doing something bad, then it is permissible to oppose that demon. I have opposed demons who were about to hurt or damn someone. But Alya was doing nothing, and even if she was, ‘opposing’ does not mean ‘torturing!’” She took a step closer and raised her sword. “The job of a holy warrior is never to inflict pain for the sake of doing so! To never do more damage than necessary to fight evil, to always show mercy where possible and encourage others to repent!” The fire on her blade blazed higher. “YOU ARE NO PALADIN!” she went on, tears starting to form in the corners of her eyes. “YOU ARE JUST A KILLER, AND—“

Alya hesitated, feeling on one hand that she really wanted to see this guy get absolutely thrashed by Rose, but knowing on the other she had an obligation to her friend. “Woah, woah, hold it,” said Alya as she quickly grabbed Rose’s hand to stop her from stabbing the exorcist. “He’s defeated, okay? You don’t need to kill him.”

“But he tried to kill you!” Rose said through teary-eyes. “You’re one of my best friends—“

“And I’m here to remind you that the stuff you said about you guys not being supposed to do more damage than needed applies to you too.” Alya bit her lip and looked at the exorcist who was now trembling with fear, his glee at his earlier successful tortures of Alya having seemingly already been forgotten. “Look, Rose, even if you can get away with killing the guy and not Fall or be stripped of your angelic status, you’ll still hate yourself for it tomorrow.”

The exorcist stared at Alya with bewildered eyes. “You are a demon!” he rasped. “You want her to Fall! I know it! All demons want angels to Fall!”

Alya frowned. “She’s my friend,” she snapped. “That’s more important the feud between our bosses.”

Rose was still standing with her blade raised. “But he hurt you,” she whispered. “You’re wonderful, and he hurt you, and I can’t just let that go.”

“Who said anything about letting it go?” Alya said. “Like, he tried to torture me to death. That’s really evil, so I’m pretty sure his soul’ll go to us when he dies, and that means we’ll have all eternity to get back at him.” Unless he repented and went to Heaven in the end, Alya thought, and if he did… well, that would be a bummer. She really wanted to get her claws at this guy. But she’d rather let this guy have that chance than have Rose kill him right there and suffer regret for it every day after for all her eternal life. “And even setting that aside, I can get the guy in jail with my Whisper powers. That way we know he can’t hurt anyone else.”

Rose was still hesitating, so Alya gently helped her lower the sword. “He’s not worth it,” she said. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

Finally, still trembling with rage and sorrow, Rose let Alya escort her out of the basement.

###

It only took Alya about ten minutes to jail the guy. She was quite skilled with Whisper, the power of demons to, well, whisper evil or hurtful thoughts into the minds of unsuspecting mortals. During her training she had learned how to convince humans that everyone hated them and was only pretending to befriend them out of pity, or that their spouse was cheating on them, or that—whatever the priest at church said—they really had done something beyond forgiveness and so might as well go forth and sin some more.

Now, though, Alya used that power to Whisper into the fanatic’s head. “There are demons everywhere!” she whispered. “In that trash can! On that curb! On top of that police car! If you don’t fight them, they’ll destroy Paris!”

The fanatic raved and ran around, swinging his sword wildly at the demons his mind convinced him were all around him. That, of course, led to police officers swarming and tackling him. Alya smiled as she watched Roger Raincomprix bundle him into his police car and take him away, saying something about asylums and institutionalization. “He won’t be bothering anyone ever again,” she said. Then she turned to Rose. “How did you find me?”

“You didn’t show up for that thing you were doing with Juleka,” Rose said. Both girls were hiding their spiritual forms and looked fully human, but Alya got the sense that if Rose’s wings had been visible they would have been curling around her like a cocoon. “She got worried and used a spell from your library to track you down. I was closer so I got to your first, but she’ll probably be here soon too.”

“I should text her to let her know I’m alright,” Alya noted. She took her phone, which the fanatic had left in a corner of the basement and which Alya had reclaimed, and sent a message to Juleka. “Want to get home?”

Rose nodded weakly.

Alya frowned. “Don’t beat yourself up over losing your temper,” she said. “It happens to all of us.”

“Sure.” Rose shrugged. “Uh huh.”

Alya paused. Clearly, she thought, Rose needed more help. And now that Alya was out of her bonds and was back in action, she was just the girl to help her. “Anyways, I’m going back to my place, and you’re coming too,” she announced.

Rose blinked. “Wait, what?”

“I said, we’re going to my place,” Alya announced. “Come on, Rose. You saved my life and I owe you one. Let’s get going.”

Rose clearly didn’t know what was going on, but she smiled a little and let herself be dragged along.

###

When the pair got back to Alya’s apartment, they dropped their guises and Alya sighed as she flopped back in her bed. “I never thought I’d see this bed again,” she murmured. “I didn’t think I’d see you, or Juleka, or… or Marinette again either.” She shut her eyes, knowing how badly she would have been hurt to never see the adorable fashion designer, and also knowing how much pain Marinette would have been in if Alya had just vanished. “Thank you again, Rose.”

Rose nodded weakly.

Alya got Rose over to the couch and settled down with her. “Why are you still sad?” she asked.

Rose hesitated, and Alya said, “If you don’t want to share it with me, that’s fine. We can just rest here; I’ll put on some cartoons or something until we both feel better. But if you’re sad, you can talk to me.”

It took a few moments for Rose to say something, during which time she slumped over and snuggled against Alya. One of her wings tickled Alya’s nose and she sneezed, which made Rose giggle. Then Rose cuddled deeper against Alya and said, “Am I a bad angel?”

“No way!” Alya said. “You’re awesome at what you do, and I’m saying that even though what you do makes it harder to me to tempt souls a lot of the time.”

Rose smiled at that. “But I almost didn’t save you,” she said. “And I almost murdered that guy after he was already defeated.”

“You did save me in the end, which is what counts,” Alya said. “You did your job. And while you got mad at the fanatic, you didn’t kill him.” She paused. “We’ve never had an all-out fight, so I can’t say for sure what would have happened if you’d tried to break my grip and kill the guy, but based on what I know of you I think you could probably have thrown me aside and killed the fanatic if you really wanted to do so. You didn’t, so you knew on some level killing him was wrong.”

“Right, but I still want him to suffer for what he did to you,” said Rose. “And I’m not supposed to. Angels aren’t supposed to hate, even when we’re fighting evil.”

“I’m not exactly an expert on what you guys believe,” Alya said slowly. “Since we demons and devils have a different system. But I think I read somewhere that your boss is really big on forgiveness and understands that everyone screws up sometimes. I don’t think He’d want you beating yourself up like this, and I think He’d be satisfied with how you saved the victim—me—and didn’t do any more damage to the guy once he wasn’t a threat anymore.”

Rose mulled that over for a few moments. “You really think so?”

“Sure,” said Alya. “Besides, any God who would get mad at you over—what, yelling a bit after stopping a torturer?—wouldn’t be a God worth worshipping.”

“Don’t say that about God,” murmured Rose, but she sounded a lot calmer. “That makes sense, though. Thanks, Alya.”

“Happy to help.” Alya gingerly scratched at the base of Rose’s wings, and she sighed in contentment.

“You know,” said Rose after a few moments of that, “You’d make a good angel.”

Alya jolted in shock at that, and Rose laughed. “Don’t say that!” Alya feebly protested. “Seriously, I—I would not want that job. I don’t like the idea that I’d have to be nice all the time because my boss demanded it. I like what I am, where I have the freedom to be how I want.” She realized she was blushing and tried to make herself stop. “Besides, I’m not that nice in general,” she went on. “You’re an exception.”

“Nah,” said Rose. “You’re nice. If you wanted to be an angel you’d be great at it.” She chuckled, and then she asked, “But I’m curious about one thing. That guy said that demons want angels to Fall, but you worked really hard to stop me from Falling today. Was that just because we’re friends, or do you oppose angels falling in general?”

Alya didn’t know why, but she was blushing again. “Uh,” she began. “Look, I’m all about freedom. That’s why I like my side of things in the first place. I think you should have freedom too, and if I thought you really, truly wanted to Fall, then I would offer my help to you—you know, finding some sin for you to commit that wouldn’t do anything too bad or hurt anyone you didn’t want to suffer—so you could live as you wished. But I know you, and I know that in your heart you don’t want to do anything so bad that you Fall. You like being a holy angel warrior for God. You love being able to spread blessings and help usher souls into eternal bliss. And if that’s your choice, I want to help you maintain it. Because we’re friends.”

The idea of friendship was still a new one to Alya, who of course came from a place where there was no such thing as friendship, where everyone was out for themselves and anyone dumb enough to admit to weakness would find that weakness mercilessly exploited by classmates, neighbors, and random strangers. But now that she was in the human world, she had friends, and she found that she liked it. (Granted, she had to keep her friendships hidden from her bosses—especially her friendship with Rose—but she was a demon and deceit came naturally to her, so that wasn’t too hard.)

Rose smiled gently. “I’m glad we’re friends,” she said.

The two stayed still for a few moments before Rose reluctantly raised herself up. “I guess I should go,” she said. “I’m sure you and Juleka need to do whatever you were planning on doing before you got abducted.”

“We were just planning on watching some fun anime and having some snacks,” said Alya. Then, as if on cue, she heard a knock on the door and grinned. “It’s open!” she called. Then she turned to Rose and said, “When I texted her earlier, I told her to get back to my place so we could resume our plans. That must be her now.”

Rose tried to get up, but Alya wrapped her tail around Rose and tugged her back down. “I don’t want to get in the way,” Rose said quickly. “I’ll leave.”

“No, you’ll join us,” corrected Alya. “Because this is my room, so I can invite who I want, and I want you here. Because this is my cult, so Juleka has to do what I say, and I say you get to stay.” Her eyes twinkled. “And because I know you and Juleka love spending time together, and so since you also had kind of a rough day, a little time with your favorite paladin and my favorite priestess is just what Dr. Alya ordered.”

Rose grinned at that. 

Then Juleka entered the room carrying a bag.  As soon as her gaze fell upon Rose she smiled brightly, and Rose returned that smile. “Alright,” Juleka said. “I’ve got the DVD for that anime you told me to find, ‘Kill La Kill,’ and your snacks.” She took some cups out of the bag. “Three hot chocolates—one with cinnamon, because I know that’s your favorite, Rose—some microwave popcorn, and pastries from the Dupain-Cheng bakery.” She paused. “Marinette told me she’ll be free in an hour or so. Would you want me to invite her?”

“Sure!” said Alya at once. She’d have to hide her demon form once Marinette arrived, of course, but it would be worth it to hang out with the fashion designer. Marinette always seemed to brighten up any room. “And thanks for helping Rose save me with the tracking spell. I owe you one.”

Juleka waved that off. “It’s a friend thing,” she said. “Don’t worry about it.”

Such a sentence was something Alya would never, ever have heard in the demon world. Debts there were jealously maintained. But she liked this way, she found… even if she did intend on finding some way to reward Juleka for saving her life. “Sure,” she said to change the subject. “But I still appreciate it. Anyway, what kind of pastries did you get?”

“Angel food cake for Rose, lemon cake for me, and chili-chocolate cake for you,” said Juleka as she passed out the treats. Rose sniffed her cake and sighed at how wonderful it smelled. “I’ll pop in the DVD and then we can start the show.”

Juleka did so and then sat on Rose’s other side. Rose grinned and spread her wings wide enough to give partial hugs to both Alya and Juleka, and Alya’s tail flicked a bit before running against the other two girls’ backs. Rose giggled. “That tickles!” she said.

“Sorry,” drawled Alya. She bit into the delicious cake and grinned. Chili and chocolate was a hard combination to get right, but the Dupain-Cheng family were masters, and the cake was absolutely perfect. “My bad.”

“You’re not sorry,” said Juleka lightly. “That’s a lie.”

“Well, lying’s a sin,” chirped Alya. “And as a demon, that’s kind of my thing.”

Both of the other girls laughed, and then Rose draped her arms as well as her wings around the other two. Juleka hit the button on the remote and the show started.

Alya sighed, her pains from earlier almost completely forgotten as she relaxed with her friends. The human world was good, she thought. She was very glad she hadn’t been kicked out of it. And she’d try to stay in it—and be with the people she cared about, including the wonderful angel and the amazing human currently sitting on her couch—for as long as she could.

———

AW THAT WAS WONDERFUL

GO ROSE

I like how its been decided that between Rose and Alya theres a bad cop and good cop dynamic going on

Alya is the good cop

[helsknight]

whoops i sent this to betweenlands first like a derp lol, anyway: scp au; may as well round out boatem, what're mumbo, pearl and impulse?

oh you are SO on point i was actually just thinking abt pearl while i was at work all day. you'll have to forgive me bc im not as familiar w her as i am w some of the other hermits (including mumbo and impulse) but i HAVE been thinking of her ....okay okay so

- pearl is probably the least human-looking out of boatem. honestly even if she DIDN'T have any anomalous properties (which she definitely does) she'd probably get contained anyways simply because she does Not look right. she has two sets of wings, being owl wings near the top of her back and dragon wings closer to her tail--which she has too because of course <3. her body is sort of wyrm-like but distinctly humanoid, and her head has anomalous shadows falling over it which echo the moon phases! it's a human face, but there's a permanent shadow where the moon is shadowed--for example, on a new moon, all of her face is shadowed over even if she's in full direct light, and on a full moon she emits light just to be seen. this is regardless to whether or not the moon is actually out at the moment--works in full daylight, etc etc. finally, additionally, she's a prophet! she knows way more than the foundation figures she really should, and she claims to have seen things like this in potent visions. i have a lot of ideas and little quirks for her visual design so i WILL draw her soon but basically ummm I care her <3

- mumbo jumbo is less of an anomalous entity himself and more of...one who CREATES anomalies and acts like that's fine. thats normal. if you leave him in a room with a frankly pitiful amount of supplies he can make virtually anything work if he wants to. example: once they tested out if he could make a working robotic arm out of literal trash electronics, and he came out with a completely functional and high-tech arm, including additional materials that he didn't have to start with and using science that isn't obeying the laws of physics. whenever he tries to explain something, it's virtually unintelligible because he references many rules of science, mechanics, and physics which just DON'T exist. this frustrates doc, an actual mechanic, very much. these rules don't even work for other people. he's contained in a very loose sense of the word, in that he's allowed to explore the facility but ISN'T allowed to leave the building. he's also the one who made pretty much all of the cybernetics that belong to people in the building, EXCEPT for doc, because doc likes to repair his own things and doesn't trust mumbo.

- impulse is a funnyman. he's humanoid, sure, but he's not actually THERE. he's made of energy and light, and there's pretty much no actual matter attached to him. despite this, his hologram-like form follows most laws of physics, except for having weight and being affected by gravity. he can't go through walls, and he can't just Disappear, but if he's flashed out with enough energy or light that ISN'T 'him' he will sort of...fade out, like a washed out photo. he'll come back, but he's harder to see and it's like theres. less of him there. he's kind of like a ghost! he's also a complete and utter nerd. he claims to have pretty much always been like this, and he likes hanging out with mumbo because he wants to desperately understand what he's talking about but. you know, he Can't. in return he lets mumbo use him like a charging outlet <3