#her own physical body grows very weak after a little while but she pays no attention to it and even gets into heated arguments with becky.

[a-shadowedvales]

when jane's powers return in season four (and because they were regained by her confronting and accepting her past, rather than being retraumatised with it!) they're stronger than they ever were. when she starts getting a handle back on them, she very quickly comes to realise not only have they affected her, but her mother, too. one of the biggest losses that came about with her losing them was the fact that she could no longer visit terry in the void; while there was no real communication there, it did allow jane to sit with her, and gain a little more connection than she could in the real world. when she first visits the void after their return, it takes her three hours to find terry, something that is both unexpected and incredibly worrying. but when she does, it's something of a miracle. jane's increased strength and control over the void actually wakes terry up from her catatonic state, but only in the void. there's no way to help her mother physically, but she does do so (unbeknownst to her) mentally. terry is reborn in jane's newfound control over the vale of shadows; she becomes the woman she once was, and while her body remains frozen in a "good dream", her mind connected to jane's own allows her some freedom. jane is able to speak to her mother in the void, is able to be held by her, and while it's still unfair and jane cannot stay in there forever, it's something. this only lasts for about eight months, as each visit slowly begins deteriorating terry's physical and mental state, and jane's health begins declining after spending hours upon hours in the void each and every day.

when jane finds out these visits are actually killing her mother on the outside, she deems to stop, but terry expresses the importance of them being able to speak, that she'd prefer to die on the outside, if it meant she could have just a few months with her daughter like this. terry and jane's connection was always so strong, which ultimately led to terry "waking up" in the void, but even jane's newfound strength cannot save her from the harsh realities. each visit nearing the end of those eight months, terry fades more and more, becomes weaker in the void, and her real body eventually gives up. jane's in the void when her mother eventually passes on, and physically feels their connection weaken, like some part of her suddenly becomes lost in the shadows, a part she'll never find again. jane falls into a depressive state for weeks after her mother's death, given she's technically lost her a second time, but soon comes to realise she was lucky to have even shared those eight months together. it was better than nothing at all. there is a proper burial and funeral, (and when jane dies, she's buried next to her mother) which allows jane some sense of closure. she never fully recovers from losing terry, nor from the fact that she never had a proper relationship with her, but she does eventually find some peace with it all.

[darling-answers]

I love your Cute style and fanfics of Cassidy and reaper! May I ask for you to write about Echo with a creator Mother figure! The one who gave Life to her!

Owner - Thank you for liking my Cassidy and Reaper! Honestly I love writing Overwatch! And I love playing echo! So let me give it a shot!

- Spending your whole life making echo took a lot of mental Energy and Physical Stress. But boy did it pay off, Creating echo not only helped you with man kind but it also helped show others the hope of not giving up on your dream.

- when you programmed echo and turned on her power module, the first thing she was greeted was you. The first little steps that were so important to a newborn baby was Exactly How it worked in the beginning. She didn’t understand how to perform basic tasks as walking and flying around. She a fast learner, when you get her to learn basic walking and talking her programming copies you.

- As her mother figure she has only known you as a human, you didn’t let her outside of her environment until you felt she was ready. She found nature and animal beautiful. The first time she met humans she didn’t understand. “ why were the those small people scared of me? Did i do something off.” She would ask in the most sincere tone? Her programming copying how you would talk.

- when finding out that she is different she was upset as first but she understood that She just need to make a difference by showing the world she not like others! When she first joined Overwatch she still stayed in touch with you through her programming! All the Overwatch agents knew about you and especially Winston, as Echo was very fussy and wouldn’t let anyone touch her program unless it her own mother! So after a Mission you will definitely have to come in and make sure she is alright!

- I definitely think she tried to drink or eat something before seeing you doing it and getting upset when she learned she didn’t have to survive off the same stuff you do. “ Do you mean that humans naturally Eat and drink but robots can’t do the same? So why don’t you become a robot so you don’t have that weakness?” When telling her that being a human or a robot has their own perks and benefits. She definitely “cried” when she found out you won’t be with her the rest of her life.

- she tried to help others like you do! Learning how to cook, clean and bake and when you grow older and sometimes have it harder to get around she definitely doesn’t allow you to do more chores, “ I think it time you go rest.” She would say with a smile on her face.

- Echo never gets angry or frustrated but if you were to be insulted by anyone even one of her own teammates she will definitely bring out the feisty tone you gave her when you found her smashing a Glass plate cause she thought that was normal cause you did it.

- You will definitely be making her accessories for her body to give her more human like features! Like a Ballerina Tutu! Not only does she appreciate it very much she definitely will hug you and knit a sweater for you in no time! She learns that everyone is different and that while there definitely a good side you shouldn’t judge anyone for choosing a side as everyone has there reasons.

- She will definitely compliment you if you even try to point out your chubby ness or how skinny you look. She doesn’t care how you look or how different you might be from other people. She loved you the way you are, YOUR her creator the one who gave her life to experience and explore so why should anyone but especially you try to judge yourself!

- That scene were Cassidy and Echo meet up after Cassidy takes care of Ashe Really falls to me as echo will ask Cassidy to pick out a gift for you, something you enjoy! Even if Cassidy doesn’t know who you are! She will introduce you to him to! So that you get to know the people she surrounds herself with people who takes care of others and Helps Humanity

In Game Conversation

Echo - My creator made me to inspire good in people, why do you wish to harm the people around you?

Moira - Did Mummy ever tell you that her fantasy is a delusion, I can make you into something greater.

~

Cassidy - Hey Partner, Didn’t you say it was your creator Birthday, let stop by The House and give her a Pie, she deserve it.

Echo - You know cowboy, she doesn’t like pie, but thank you for trying to help :D ask her what she likes next time you try and take a shot at asking her out on a date.

Cassidy - *whistles* That was brutal Ma’am.

[krafterwrites-alt]

Even more Silver being part of Team Dark HCs

Since Shadow and Rouge both have great personal hygiene routines, the first thing they did after bringing Silver into their home was thoroughly clean him up. He protested at first since he didn’t know them or what cleaning him up would entail, but he quickly began loving it after realizing how nice it is to have soft fur that isn’t covered in debris. Now he uses the same routine as them to keep himself nice and fluffy

A little combination of this AU with my hc that Silver is cold all the time from being acclimated to fire. When it becomes winter for the first time, Rouge cannot get Silver to leave the apartment, even though he does think that the snow outside looks really cool. He puts on a bunch of blankets and clings to Omega as a heat source, even having him run his flamethrowers occasionally until he almost starts a fire. After Silver befriends Blaze, he has her stay over at the apartment as often as possible so that she can keep him warm (through her fire, or just by giving him hugs), and gets sad whenever she has to leave

Since Silver is interested in the fashion of the past but has no sense of style, Rouge takes him out to get clothes as often as possible, and dresses him up in nice outfits. He always ends up loving them, and brags to Shadow that he’s missing out afterwards (Shadow refuses to let Rouge dress him up). Whenever the team is going somewhere where they’re likely to meet someone, Silver asks her to get him an outfit so he can look good and show off how fashionable his teammate is (and also so he can roast his rivals’ clothing)

After knowing Blaze for a while, Silver and the rest of Team Dark would get invited to hang out in the Sol Dimension at the palace. Everyone finds it spectacular and has a great time, but Rouge can’t control herself and tries to swipe a few things along the way (they would be super valuable since they’re from a royal family and another dimension), and gets kicked out. Shadow and Omega willingly leave afterwards, and Blaze tells Silver that he’s always welcome back, but to not bring Rouge with him

Silver is very physically weak at first due to his reliance on psychokinesis, and all the stuff in the apocalyptic future messing up his body while he was growing, so Shadow, Rouge, and Omega all come together to train him. It takes a little while, and it's not very fun for Silver, but it is a moderate success in the end. He's now strong enough to carry milk jugs and grocery bags without psychokinesis, and can run for a short time without collapsing

Silver would take longer to warm up to Amy, but she would eventually be able to form a connection with him, since she knows how sweet he is at his core. She would teach him some useful stuff, like how to cook basic stuff and some of her own baking recipes

Before the above mentioned friendship happens, Team Dark usually just eats junk food and delivery/takeout. Silver will eat almost anything, and has never experienced processed foods before, so the first couple of times he gets to eat fast food or sweets he gets too excited and accidentally makes himself sick. After that, Rouge and Shadow have to pay attention to how much he gets so this doesn't happen anymore

After Amy teaches him cooking and baking, Silver starts making some meals and treats for Team Dark, which they all enjoy. Rouge comments that its like they have a restaurant in their own home (Since before this the only time they had food of this quality was when they all went out to a nice restaurant), which he really appreciates. Silver likes his own cooking the most out of anyone, he thinks its amazing that he's able to make delicious food whenever he wants to. Rouge will rather frequently be up wandering the apartment and find Silver standing near the stove making a snack, and he'll give her a bit of it in exchange for her not saying anything about it

Before Silver has any furniture in his/Omega's room, he'd just sleep on the floor, which he actually didn't mind at all since the floor is carpet and very soft compared to the surfaces he had to sleep on before. However, when Rouge is out one day doing something, he'd go into her room out of curiosity and see her bed. Silver would climb in and instantly fall asleep, and would continue to sleep long after Rouge arrives and notices him there. She tries to wake up him up, but it doesn't work, so she eventually just drags him out of it. He'd land on the floor, still asleep, so Rouge would just sigh and go to bed after making a mental note to get him a bed as soon as he wakes up

Silver would occasionally use his psychokinesis to mess with his teammates, like stealing a piece of food off of a fork before it reaches their mouth. Shadow would get sick of this pretty fast, so he would start doing the same thing back with Chaos Control, and the two begin competing to see who can outdo the other until they both eventually get bored and decide to drop it

[thoughts4all]

Day 186: Back

Hello everyone, probably no-one. The only person that might actually read this is future me. Hello. How are you? How satisfying is life? How have my goals changed? Am I in a better state of mind?

I haven't wrote in this blog in a while. I think have not because I did not find reason to. I have been questioning life a lot lately and writing would probably help clear some of that out. Since I am currently writing I might as well try to clear out some thoughts. However, before I proceed I will provide some context of what has been going on in my life lately.

I broke up with my girlfriend a month and a half ago. I am a month and a half celibate. I went overseas to see my extended family and reconnect with my culture after 4 years. I go to the gym consistently for the first time in my life. I am attempting to grow a full beard for the first time in my life. I am back at school living with roommates taking care of my self instead of living at home with my parents. I friend-zoned a girl wanting to have sex for the first time in my life. She is really hot and I really enjoy talking to her and now she likes me more now that I friend-zoned her. I did not try for the first round of the coop job search and the job market is weak right now.

The following are my primary thoughts lately:

I think I am addicted to girls. I know I need to be alone in this section of my life. I haven't not been talking to a girl for 2 consecutive months (maybe even just one month) in over 4 years. I almost always had someone in my life. I know I need to grow myself. That includes my mindset, thoughts and my physical body. I am unhappy with my physical appearance, physical strength, how productive I am in my spare time and my career. I am actually proud of myself for working on my body but I have not shown effort in productivity or my career. Since I have not payed much attention to girls I have been able to do things like attempt to grow a patchy beard, go to the gym, sleep early. Although I am taking some steps to better myself I feel a little empty. For the first time, I felt the effects of heartbreak after a breakup. Even though I was the one to break up, it still hurt in an unexpected amount. My life feels more exiting when talking to the current girl. I know I promised I would not like her or do anything with her but it is very hard.

What is the point of my life? My career? My social bonds and memories? My positive effect on other? My own needs and desires?

The answer is honestly so simple and it is right in front of all of us; all of it. The point of my life is all four of these things. They are all intertwined. My career ties into my effect on others and my own needs and desires. My career effects society and makes the world go round. My career also gives me money and opportunities to be a little selfish and do what I enjoy. My social bonds and social memories also tie into my effect on others and my own desires. Building social connections with family, friends, and girls satisfies my own needs to connect with others and enjoy myself. Conversations, and bonding is one of my favourite pass times. Additionally, I have a positive effect on them. I make them laugh, feed them, introduce them to more friends, give them fun opportunities, and keep them company. The point of my life is made up. I set the meaning of my life. According to my environment these four make up the most of it. Neither one of the four can be the clear purpose, it is a blend. I have to keep a balance of all four and not neglect a component. Right now II am neglecting my career and half neglecting my own needs and desires. I am neglecting my own needs and desires on purpose since I believe I invested a little too much time on that aspect. But currently I do feel a little incomplete. I think investing in career will really help me. I think that is the path I need to take.

Personal goal: stay on my laptop more than my phone.

Reasons:

Can lead to writing blog posts and written meditation

Will get me away from girls (snapchat)

Will get me away from mind numbing reels

Can lead to working on my career

Can lead to more productive things in general.

[loverdrew]

Do It For Me | b.b

Synopsis: Y/N may never be able to forgive Bucky if he goes through with his decision. (pre-endgame with a twist, very inaccurate storyline and writing I know but it’s all fiction)

Warnings: a few cuss words here and there

Based off of Greys Anatomy (between Izzie and Denny)

My first ever Bucky Barnes fanfic! I’m getting more into writing for Marvel characters.

I had been sat up in my room at the Avengers compounds for the whole day at his point; harnessing my magic, drawing/reading to calm me down, and just enjoying a nice day off. Everything seemed quiet, a little too quiet for my taste. No one had come knocking on my door to talk or check up on me. After a few minutes I started to hear talking through my headphones and it was coming from outside my door. I slowly let my earbuds drop from my ears, silently opening up my door and creeping downstairs. It had seemed to more I got down the steps, I saw more people come into view. All backs were turned, some arms crossed, but voices were definitely raised. It felt like more than one person kept trying to speak and once at the bottom step, I saw the one person who was the center of it all.

Wanda was the first one to see me, cutting her sentence short, and soon everyone followed. Steve’s face dropped, biting his lower lip and looking at the floor. Bucky stood up, eyes almost bulging out of his head. I looked around stunned at everyones faces as they all made a collective sigh.

“W-what’s...what’s going on guys.” Wasn’t so much of a question, but more of a ‘tell me now or I’ll crush you guys with just a thought’. My powers were growing, everyone knew this. With one scream, a whole city could go deaf. With no swipe of my hand, I can send more than 10 men flying 100 feet. Most of the time they wouldn’t dare bother me in fear of my emotions becoming heightened and possibly destroying something. But something tells me right now might be the first time that happens.

“I said, what’s going on.” My hands glowed purple, the color of my powers. Wanda immediately rushed in front of me and looked me in the eyes, rubbing her hands over mine. When she found out I also harnessed powers from an infinity stone, Tony made it a point to have her help me maintain my magic. Her touch softened the glow, instantly calming down my heart rate. She repeated the same phrase to me; ‘don’t let it take control of you, take control of it’. The purple glow went away, as she guided me towards the group.

“Thanos is coming, Y/N.” Tony spoke up.

“And we’re trying to figure out how to stop him once and for all but...there was an idea brought up.” Bruce chimed in, and I followed his gaze right to Bucky. His head laying low. My mind went to the darkest of places. Bucky had never looked so ashamed. All I wanted to do was hug him and rub up and down his back, he always liked that. The last time I did that for him was a few nights ago when he had yet another nightmare and I found him downstairs watching TV even though I knew he was exhausted. He was too afraid to fall asleep. I remember that night, thinking about how badly I wanted to tell him how I felt. He had been my rock since coming into the compound, even if nobody else saw it. Our friendship consisted of late night snacks and conversations, training together making each other stronger, and always communicating and tell each other the truth no matter what. But oh, how I wanted that friendship to mean more to him as it does to me. But I would panic, thinking I wasn’t ever going to be good enough for one of the best people I’d ever met. He deserved a woman who was just as great as he was. 

“Tell her.” Natasha spoke, anger laced in her voice.

“Bucky...” I whispered. 

“My greatest wish in life is to take back every bad thing I did in this world. Every person I had killed, hurt, ruined their life.” He looks at Tony with deep regret. “And I can’t ever do that physically, but maybe in another way, I can.” He was rubbing his hands together avoiding my gaze.

“Okay? Bucky that’s great that you’ve figured out how you want to do that-” 

“You didn’t let him finish.” Sam said with a monotone voice.

“We need to be ready whenever Thanos decides to come. And the only way for me to get my wish is to...be the one that’s sacrificed during the battle.” My heart stopped and the ringing in my ears began to pick up. Wanda could see my hands glowing much brighter and more rapidly this time. I could feel her hands come up to the sides of my arms but within a flash my whole body shook the entire room like an earthquake.

“What!!” I walked over to him and slammed down on the table. “Are you out of your god damn mind Barnes!”

He tried to reach out but I raised my hand, stopped his movement and moving his arm to stay at his side, unable to move it.

“No, no, no you’re not doing this. You guys please tell him he is NOT sacrificing himself! You have no idea how much power those stones are! Just look at me! I have the same powers as a stone yet I can’t control shit Bucky! It’s out of control you’ll be dead before you can even use one stone to fight off Thanos!”

“I’ve been working with Tony and Shuri on a way to help me harness the power. They’ve been working on a suit for me that is stronger than Tony’s. Y/N you have to understand that this is my way of righting my wrongs, if I die then I die a hero who saved the whole world, not someone who use to kill hundreds of people with no remorse.” I turned towards Tony, his eyes becoming scared as he held his breath.

“You...” I throw my hands up and thrashed Tony into the wall, shattering it. He couldn’t move, paralyzed by fear at what I could do to him. Wanda yelled out to stop, but I couldn’t hear anything over my own boiling anger. “You knew about this. You knew he wanted to die and didn’t try to stop him!”

“I-I was just doing what I thought was the only option.” I slammed him again into the wall.

“There’s other options Tony!” I began to cry out, tears instantly springing from my eyes so quick it took me a second to realize I was even crying. With each puff of my chest my powers weakened as I wasn’t paying as much attention anymore, my brain becoming overstimulated with dark thoughts.

Bucky came up behind me and brought his arms around mine, his cheek pressed up against the back of my head.

“You’re not doing this Buck, we’ll find another way.” I said in between cries. I looked around seeing everyone else become emotional at my breakdown. Natasha was like a mother figure to me, this was the first time I was seeing her tear up. Wanda was my protector, but she didn’t know how to protect me from my own feelings. And everyone who surrounded me, who watched me grow from a 20 something year old uncontrollable witch to a grounded and a fantastic Avenger, wore heavy hearts and hooded eyes. I turned around quickly wiping my eyes of any tears and stood tall. My breathing coming back to normal. “It’s okay we’ll-we’ll find another way. There’s gotta be another way right?” 

“Y/N...” He said sadly, clutching my hair. I pushed him off and walked away giving some distance between us, actually, between the whole crew. I stood on one side of the room while the rest remained where they were.

“Don’t do that. Don’t try to make me okay with this. Alright, you did some shit in your past Bucky, so what we all don’t have the best track records as angels. And I’m sure you don’t feel like you deserve to live with all of the trauma you’ve endured but guess what? You do! You know how you get the fix things? You become a better person, a fighter and protector of the world! People change Bucky and I’ve seen it first hand in you! You deserve to live just as much as anyone else!” Everyone remained silent, so I assumed they agreed with me. “And if you tell me one more time about sacrificing yourself because that’ll right your wrongs in this world, so help me God, I will kill you myself right now!” And without thinking, my hand shot out a purple beam of light, latching onto a glass vase and chucking it around the room, creating a whole in the wall and the glass shattering everywhere.

He walked up to me peacefully with his hands held in the air.

“Y/N, please. I’m going to be alright, you don’t have to worry this much. You should be more concerned about protecting yourself. I definitely wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if I didn’t do this and something worse happens to you.”

I laughed in sadness.

“What about me? What about me when you die!” I saw multiple people begin to shed the same tears I was. We had all grown fond of Bucky when he joined us. He really proved and showed deep down, behind the trauma HYDRA had left him, he was a great man. That’s why I fell so deeply in love with him. “That’s the worst thing that could ever happen to me Bucky! I will die inside if you don’t exist in this world!”

“Y/N-” more tears sprang from his eyes. His voice cracked and got lower. It’s like he couldn’t find the words to describe the pain in his heart at the thought of leaving you behind. Without having told you that he loved you too. 

“No I get it! You’ll be okay, you’ll be fine with it but what about me? Please, don’t do it for yourself, do it for me please!” I hunched over, the grief and pain overtaking my body. I felt too weak to even stand and continue yelling at him. “Please Bucky, please do this for me! Don’t leave me please don’t do this, I can’t take it please! You have to do this for me, because if you don’t I will never be able to forgive you!”

He stepped closer at a slower pace.

“For dying? For saving the world?”

“No for making me love you!” I began to cry out harder, the ring in my voice shaking the room once again, making everyone’s hands fly up to their ears as I got louder and louder. Natasha at this point was full on bawling, along with most people in the room. I think it was safe to say everyone knew of my affection towards the man at the center of attention, and maybe that’s why everyone had left me alone today. Afraid of this exact situation. The one person, the one thing in this world that can bring me to tears at my feet.

Bucky’s eyes filled with adoration as he ran up to me and held me on the floor in between his legs. I clutched at his arm crying into his shoulder. He looked back at Tony, who only gave him a nod. They had agreed together that one of them was bound to be the sacrifice when it came to defeating Thanos. Bucky of course still wanted it to be him, he felt it was the most right option. But when he looked back at Tony, clutching the love of his life in his arms, Tony took that as a final answer. Tony was okay with the decision he had come to long ago. He was ready to die for the good of everyone else, but nobody knew that yet. Bucky wasn’t giving up the fight, but now it only became that much harder to leave her behind. It was easier not knowing her feelings, but it had come to the light. Bucky wanted a life like Tony, the kids, the wife, everything. But at what cost? He was still going to fight to the death if he had to, but the decision to be the one to end it all was fading away.

“It’s okay Y/N, I promise we’ll talk more about it and find another way if we have to.”

“We have to Bucky, we have to.” My cries didn’t stop, but my voice lowered. My eyes caught everyone else’s, almost embarrassed at my sudden outburst of devoted love to Bucky, but everyone knew, they just never heard it from me. “Just hold onto me please.” I pleaded.

“I’m here Doll, I promise I’ll stay right here.”

[pride-moth]

You got everything that I want

Ao3 Link

Stolas can’t recall a time where “love” wasn’t synonymous with “pain” for him. 

He had loved Stella at some point, in his own weird way. Yes, it was an arranged marriage, but he had been willing to make it work like so many royal couples had made it work before them. He admired her beauty, her strength, her force of personality. He wanted to love her and so he did. He loved her as his wife, his princess, the mother to their daughter. He really… He had tried, at one point.

But after years and years of trying and compromising and acquiescing to your partner’s every wish without ever feeling them try in turn. Getting up every night to care for the child that both of you put into the world but that only one of you really cares to pay any meaningful attention to… It gets tiring and slowly, surely, all the love you once had for your partner slips through your fingers until there’s nothing left. Nothing but regret and screaming and pain.

He loves Octavia so, so fiercely. He would do anything for her, and yet he can hardly seem to be able to make her smile. And that’s the greatest pain. When you want nothing more than to see your child happy and you would do anything to make it happen, but it’s not in your hands anymore. Octavia is still a teenager but she’s growing up, wanting to do her own thing, starting to live her own life and Stolas feels like the only thing that he could do to make her happy would be to stop fighting with Stella, and that is just not within his powers. Stella will always find something to blame him for and he will always find something new to do wrong. 

When Blitzo enters the picture, he and Stella already haven’t been sleeping in the same bed longer than he cares to remember. It’s a night of weakness, that first one, one where all he wants is to not live his own life anymore and Blitzo, that handsome little imp, catches him off guard, pokes right into his vulnerabilities and Stolas can’t help but take him home, sneak him in and let himself be taken apart in a way he has never experienced.  

It’s a magical night, not romantic, but raw and rough and brutal in the best way. Blitzo makes him hurt exactly how he likes to hurt, gives him the kind of pleasure he could never quite convince Stella into giving him. They don’t even know each other at that point, but there is the kind blind understanding between them that Stolas always wanted to happen between him and Stella, but it never did.

Stolas is almost grateful when he realizes Blitzo has taken his grimoire with him. It’s an easy reason to stay in contact, an easy excuse to call him, set meetings, work out an exchange and get more of what Blitzo gave him that first night. 

With Blitzo, it’s not love. So, there’s no pain. Stolas doesn’t let there be pain, at least not emotionally, the physical pain is something he quite enjoys. When Blitzo leaves after their monthly night together, he doesn’t allow himself to feel pain, only anticipation of the next time. He likes that there’s always a next time, even though that’s because of his active incentive more than anything else. But that’s alright, he doesn’t want Blitzo to come see him without an incentive. He deserves favors in turn for what he’s giving Stolas. 

He enjoys Blitzo’s company in general. He’s funny, quick-witted, intelligent and he handles him with an ease that in any other situation would be seen as lèse-majesté for an imp. And maybe that’s what appeals to Stolas about spending time with Blitzo. That he can be himself, doesn’t have to adhere to the vague behavioral standards of royal life. He can be vulgar around him, and a blubbering mess sometimes, Blitzo doesn’t mind him being angry or frustrated or stupid, he can just… Be. 

So, sometimes he’ll find an excuse to spend time with Blitzo outside of the bedroom. To just be. Because it doesn’t affect their normal arrangement and it’s better than spending time alone in that grand, beautiful, empty palace with a wife who wants his head chopped off and a daughter who makes him responsible for it. Maybe he is responsible for it, he thinks, but that doesn’t change anything, does it?

When he takes Octavia to Loo Loo Land, he wants Blitzo there as his bodyguard, not because he necessarily needs protection, but just because… He wants him there. Around. As company. Because Blitzo is good like that. And he likes watching him fully in his element because Blitzo handles his rifle with the same deft touch and confidence as he handles Stolas and that’s beautiful in a way. 

When Octavia tells them to get a room, it throws him off a little because he didn’t mean to get carried away like that. He truly wanted it to be a father-daughter day, Blitzo and his employees and incidental part of the equation, but he can’t really take his eyes off Blitzo when he’s being all professional and handsome and, God, maybe this was a bad idea to begin with. 

That day ends with him finding Octavia crying and she asks if he wants to run off with Blitzo and that’s… Well, he can’t fault her for getting the wrong idea. Obviously she doesn’t know that it’s just sex between them. She’s just met a man who Stolas is very clearly flirting with constantly, so obviously that would look romantic. But he would never run off with him, it’s not like that. There’s no love between them, only a deal, good sex and good company. 

There’s a little thought spinning around in his head after the whole Loo Loo Land incident that he doesn’t dare act upon for a good while, but it persists. All he needed to do to convince Blitzo to come with him was offer him money. So, maybe, just maybe, if he found himself desiring his company outside of their arrangement, he could just… 

“I’m not a hooker,” Blitzo says sharply when he tries it one day during a phone call. 

“But I usually pay you by letting you use the book,” Stolas tries, not entirely sure why he tries breaking through the metaphorical door that has just been quite clearly slammed shut right in front of face. 

“That’s different! That’s-” Blitzo lets out a frustrated sigh at the end of the line. “Just don’t try that.” 

“But-” 

“Shut it, Stolas, I said no. Just because you’re a Prince or whatever doesn’t mean you can get everything you want by waving some money around.” 

It stings a little, that comment. He didn’t mean to… He didn’t attempt to… Maybe he did. Blitzo said no, so that’s that. No reason to get hung up about it. So, he won’t see him before the full moon. That’s okay. No pain, not about Blitzo. And if he needs to exert some force to make a smile appear on his face, that’s just because he can hear Stella throwing utensils in the kitchen again. 

“No trouble at all, I didn’t mean to offend, my dear Blitzy. See you next full moon,” he says then in his usual blib tone. 

Blitzo hangs up on him after mumbling something about offending his asshole. 

Sometime after that, Blitzo starts sharing cigarettes with him. It’s a little thing that he doesn’t think much of the first time it happens. Blitzo just kind of offers it to him one time, wordlessly and Stolas takes it and that’s that. It’s a little gesture of familiarity that neither of them comment on, but they keep doing it from then on. He starts buying the good expensive cigarettes and keeping them in the nightstand just for that little ritual.

Stolas would never admit to himself that he has a little cruel streak. “Friendly” is his default mode of presentation even if that sometimes gets him weird looks, it being hell and all. But he still grew up here, he still knows how the game is played and he still knows how to hit people where it hurts. 

So, when Stella keeps yelling at him not just about how he cheated on her, though that certainly seems to be some part of her grievance with him, not about how he’s brought the false harmony of their home into jeopardy, not about how their daughter feels about the whole thing, but about how it looks bad that he’s having sex with an imp, how that’s undignified. 

“Should I have used one of your fancy dinner party friends instead?!” he yells back at her one day and she just throws another saucer at him.

“At least that would have been a proper magazine scandal instead of the semi-public embarrassment I got!” 

And that’s where he can’t handle it anymore. He leaves her alone in the kitchen to scream at the walls because frankly, what left is there to say? She wants a magazine scandal, huh? Sure. She can have a magazine scandal. 

Stolas feels nervous when he has to ask Blitzo to come over early, but to his surprise, it’s no problem at all. 

“Is that in addition to our regularly scheduled fucking or a substitute?” is the only question he asks and when Stolas answers, “Substitute” he’s happy with it. 

It’s one of their best nights yet, Blitzo ties him up so good he can’t move an inch and he fucks him and he teases him with a passion that feels entirely new. Blitzo usually isn’t one to tease, he likes getting to the point, but tonight is different, tonight he takes his time and Stolas is pudding in his fingers. 

There’s warmth afterwards, just everywhere. His entire body feels warm and muted and content. And for just a moment, there is pain. And normally he can just wish it away, replace it with excitement for the next time they meet, but this time, he feels the distinct pain of not being able to experience this kind of pleasure whenever he wants. He wants to feel exactly like this, warm and exhausted and content, all the time. But he can’t.

It takes real force this time, but he shoves the thought away. He can focus on getting Stella the big scandal she so craves, and he can kill two birds with one stone here. Not literally.

He invites Blitzo to the Harvest Moon Festival. That’s easy enough, get them out together, have him and Blitzo be in one place together in public. That’s both step one of his barely thought out plan and also another way to spend time with Blitzo which is something he needs desperately. Anything to get him out of this palace, out of the endless screaming matches with his wife. 

And then, he makes it his personal goal to be as obnoxious as possible. Blitzo calls him obnoxious all the time, that’s nothing new, but he can do one better, make sure everyone knows what they’re doing, knows exactly that the great Prince of Hell is consorting with an imp. He wants Stella to look at media coverage of the Harvest Moon Festival and be absolutely furious about it. She wanted this. 

And it’s genuinely exciting, too, watching Blitzo compete in the Games, dominating the competition except for that weird snake man who he eventually shares a title with. Truth is, Stolas doesn’t really need to try very hard to cheer Blitzo on, part of him wants to just shout from the mountaintops how cool and powerful and handsome he is and how well he’s doing. 

To his disappointment, he can’t catch Blitzo after the festival. He’s suddenly gone after the trophy ceremony and is nowhere to be seen for the rest of the day. He leaves him a suggestive voicemail, saying he would love to see Blitzo as soon as possible, but if Blitzo doesn’t feel like it, he’s simply looking forward to the next full moon. 

He learns only via Stella’s highly unsubtle phone calls at the dinner table that there was an attempt on life that day. He doesn’t know for sure, Blitzo hasn’t told him, but he suspects that his little imp probably had something to do with it not succeeding and that’s just delicious, isn’t it? That the reason for Stella’s wrath would be the one to thwart her plans? He smiles at himself.  

It’s a week later that Blitzo appears on his balcony without a warning one night, sweating and nervous and completely unlike himself. Stolas practically jumps up from his bed and rushes over to him, pulling him into a hug almost automatically. To his surprise, Blitzo allows it. 

“What’s going on, Blitzy?” he asks softly. 

Blitzo takes a shaky breath and Stolas notices several bruises on his arms. “I just… I needed to… You’re okay.” It comes out shaky and incoherent but Stolas only hugs him tighter. “You’re kind of squeezing me to death,” Blitzo croaks then and lets out a small groan that makes him sound a bit more like himself. 

Stolas lets a bit looser. “Come in, tell me what happened, I’ll call for some tea,” he says as he leads Blitzo inside. 

Blitzo chuckles joylessly. “It’s insane how different shit is for you, you know that? You can just ask for tea and someone will bring it to you. Anything you lift your own finger for, you do of your own volition. Nobody makes you do anything. Unimaginable.” 

Stolas doesn’t have an answer to that. It’s true, kind of self-evidently so. He hasn’t even taken up the house phone yet and a servant is already knocking at the door to offer tea. He takes with a curt “thank you” and hands Blitzo his cup. Slowly they sit down on the bed, arms resting against each other comfortably. 

“You know they’re just like me, right? The servants you order around here all day?” Blitzo’s voice sounds hollow, distant. It’s disconcerting to say the least. 

“Well, I suppose you’re all imps, but you… you’re special.” 

“What if I don’t want to be? What if I want to be just like everyone else and just be… left alone with all the bullshit that comes with being ‘special’? What if I don’t want other assassins to come and try to talk me out of my job and how I do it, what if I don’t want to be the ‘only good one’ for people who’d just trample all over me if they hadn’t randomly decided that I was special, what if…” 

“Blitzy, what’s going on? Do you not want to come here anymore? We can… We can stop if you want to. I don’t want to make you do anything you don’t want to, I can just leave you the book and you give it back when I need it and-” 

“Goddammit, Stolas, that’s not it, I just… Striker just came to my office and he just doesn’t leave me alone and we fought and he… Stolas, he won’t stop before he has your head and I can’t… I can’t guarantee that I can always be there to stop him.” Blitzo doesn’t look up at him, he just keeps staring directly into his tea cup. 

“Oh, Blitzy, it’ll all work itself out, everything will be okay,” Stolas says softly, tenderly caressing Blitzo’s back, but his hand quickly slapped away. 

“Are you actually serious right now?!” Blitzo looks at him now, angry, yes, but also very obviously hurt. “This guy is after you. And he’s good. I’ve stopped him once, I’ll do it again, but what if he comes here while I’m in the living world? What if I’m caught in some argument with Moxxie?”

“You don’t have to look after me, Blitzy, I’ll be okay, I promise.” Stolas takes a deep breath then, unsure of his next words. “Plus, if I wasn’t here anymore, you could just take my grimoire and run, isn’t that what you want?” 

Blitzo just stares at him, one, two, three seconds. “It sure would be easier,” he says then, pensively, “But I- Well. It’s just that… You know how it is, I don’t want to be responsible for the whole power vacuum that would come with your death and it’s not my style… I don’t know, I just don’t want you dead.” 

Stolas can’t help but smile at him. “Oh, Blitzy, that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.” 

And finally Bitzo laughs again. Stolas so loves seeing him laugh. “I’m pretty sure I’ve also told you that you’re my pretty little bitch and you have a nice dick and beautiful tight little asshole and you’re probably the only really good sub I’ve ever had.” 

Stolas pulls him into his arms, letting Blitzo lean against him and rests his chin on one of his horns. “I’m not going to die, Blitzy, not as long as you’re here. I would never forgive myself if I left you alone. I promise you, I… I can look after myself.” 

Blitzo sighs. He opens his mouth to speak a few times, but ultimately stays silent. 

They just sit there for minutes, silently embracing and Stolas doesn’t know what to do with that. It hurts. It hurts to hold Blitzo like that, to see him vulnerable and worried for him. It feels good to be with him, to have him be here. It’s warm and familiar and it feels natural, but it’s so, so painful. 

“Blitzy?” Stolas breaks the silence finally. 

“Yeah?” 

“I think I’ve made a terrible mistake.” 

Blitzo doesn’t look up at him, but he nods. “I know where this is going,” he says, half-ironically but there’s no bite to it tonight. 

“I think I’m falling in love with you,” Stolas whispers, “I’m sorry.” 

“Please, you’ve been head over heels in love with me since we first met,” Blitzo retorts but there’s no bite to it. It’s less a brag or a dig than a simple observation. 

“I didn’t mean to, I just… I don’t want it to be like this, we have a good thing here and I don’t… I don’t want to make it all complicated and painful.” 

Blitzo sighs again, but it’s a soft little sound, punctuated with a little laugh. “Stolas, you’re Goetic royalty doing completely shameless BDSM shit with an imp, it’s already complicated and painful.” 

“No, I mean-” he looks at one of the paintings of him and Stella and Octavia, Blitzo follows his gaze, “I don’t want it to hurt like this again. Love always… It always hurts.” 

 Blitzo shrugs. “I don’t think it does. Fights and drifting apart and break ups hurt. Love itself can be fun. It’s just… hard sometimes.” 

Stolas supposes that’s true. But still, is it really worth starting something when you know the end is inevitably going to be painful? And how would that even work, between them? Sure, teasing the press with an affair is one thing, but he can’t make it official. That would go beyond the realms of gossip and annoying his wife. That could potentially jeopardize his entire position and- 

“Christ, you’re overthinking like crazy right now, I can practically hear you,” Blitzo breaks his train of thought. “Nothing has to change here. We have sex, we hang out sometimes, we do movie nights, I know your daughter, we’re already in more of a relationship than you and your wife.” 

And that strikes Stolas like lightning. “You-? You feel the same?” he asks in utter disbelief. 

“You stupid fucking bird, of course I do: You think I would have passed up and opportunity to get the book without fucking you otherwise?” 

“I mean, yes, you could have just saved my life as a friend, I suppose.”

Blitzo shakes his head and grins at him. “I usually don’t fuck my friends. Nine times out of ten, I would like to, sure, but I still usually don’t. And, I sure as fuck didn’t want that either, but here we are and I literally gunned it from Imp City to here just to make sure you were still alive after I beat up Striker again and I… I think this,” he gestures between them, “is good. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever tolerated anyone that long, so… Count yourself lucky.”

Stolas smiles, as wide as he can and then he kisses him, tenderly, softly, chastely, like they never do and that seals it in a way. And for the first time in centuries, he doesn’t think about the pain that love can bring, he just thinks that holding Blitzo in his arms and kissing him feels good and he wants to keep feeling that good, so all the pain along the way, all the shit they might get into for it, might be worth it, in the end. So he pulls Blitzo a bit closer and deepens their kiss, losing himself completely in the warmth between them. 

[foilfreak]

Beauty and Her Beast: Chapter 2

Warning: This fic is rated NSFW and contains graphic depictions of things some people may find disturbing or alarming, including, but not limited to: violence, gore, unhealthy family relationships, Oedipus complexes, gratuitous amount of pornographic literature, ableist language, physical, mental, and emotional abuse, etc. If you are someone who does not enjoy fiction with these elements in them, then I suggest you refrain from reading this, because this fic will have all that, and probably a lot more. So, this is your first and final warning to turn around and go somewhere else if stuff like this just isn't your vibe, because from this point forward, your emotional wellbeing is in your own hands, and I will not be accepting blame if you disregarded my warnings and ended up reading something you didn't like. Idk why I feel compelled to write one of these despite this being Resident Evil fanfic, but I figured I'd cover my ass just in case.

(Link to ao3 version in comments below)

Chapter 2:

The journey to Mother Miranda’s personal laboratory was much shorter and more enjoyable than the original walk to the meeting site, in Salvatore’s humble opinion.

Mother Miranda was mostly quiet, distant, and preoccupied throughout the duration of the walk, even more so than normal. That being said however, while this sort of behavior would usually spell disaster for whichever one of the 4 lords was forced to be in her presence during these sorts of moods, in this situation, Mother Miranda did not appear tense or agitated or hostile like she usually would be. Just lost in thought. As though she were only quiet because she was too busy thinking about something else to speak. She didn’t even seem to mind his various attempts at starting conversation, which surprised, but endlessly delighted, the mutant man.

‘Mother must be in a very good mood today. She hasn’t hit me or told me to shut up the whole time we’ve been together. Maybe she’s made another breakthrough with the cadou? I’d certainly be very happy if I were in her shoes’ Salvatore excitedly thought to himself as the woman in question stepped forward to unlock and open the large steel door of her personal laboratory, allowing Salvatore to step into the facility before closing and locking it again behind her.

“Moreau, do you recall the set of mutation experiments I began at the beginning of last year?” The raven mother asked, turning around and beginning to quickly make her way down the long, dark corridor.

“Y-you mean… the o-ones with the new c-cadou strain th-that I… that I d-developed… f-for you?” Salvatore stutters, breath labored and body struggling to keep up with the taller woman’s vastly larger steps.

“Correct” Mother Miranda says, turning a corner. “As impressed as I was with the final results of this particular strain, I’m afraid it still isn’t good enough. None of the subjects I implanted with cadou last year turned out to be favorable candidates.”

Salvatore stops in his tracks, a look of horror and agony on his face as news that he’d failed mother once again practically tears him apart from the inside out. “O-oh Mother… I-im so s-s-sorry to h-hear that… b-but don’t w-worry… I’ll-I’ll try h-harder next t-time… I w-won’t fail y-you again Mother, so p-please… please j-just give me a-another chance to get it r-right… i b-beg of y-you…”

Mother Miranda stops and turns toward the mutated lord, staring at him in silence as he drops to his knees and grovels at her feet, begging desperately for his failures to be forgiven.

“Off your knees, Moreau, this behavior is unbecoming of a Lord such as yourself. Besides, I never said that you were the one to blame for the lack of successful results, nor am I necessarily displeased by the fact that these experiments yielded failed vessels.”

Salvatore allows his gaze to rise to his mother’s face, where, true to her words, the parts of Miranda’s face that Salvatore could make out from behind her mask did not appear marred with the familiar expressions of anger and disappointment that the 4 lords were usually met with after another round of failed vessels.

“Y-you’re… you’re not upset with m-me?” The deformed man asks, his voice laced with shock and disbelief.

“No, my child, I’m not upset with you. While these experiments may have ended in failure, they did provide me with useful information that may prove to be pertinent to our mission in the near future. In fact, as I said earlier, the reason why I’ve brought you here is because I want to give you a gift, as a reward for all your incredible work. Did you expect me to be upset with you simply because this round proved unsuccessful as well? Do you really think so poorly of your loving mother, who works tirelessly to ensure her children are happy and rewarded for all their faith and trust in me?” Mother Miranda sniveled pitifully, turning her gaze away in mock dejection as Salvatore, horrified that he’d insulted and hurt her somehow, scrambles to his feet, gently taking both of Miranda’s hands into his own and holding the supple skin to his bloated and deformed face, desperately hoping this would comfort her.

“No no no no, o-of course n-not, Mother… I-I’d never expect s-something like th-that from y-you… and-and I k-know better… b-better than a-anyone… just h-how h-hard you w-work… not j-just on y-your experiments… but f-for all o-of us… too… you l-l-love us… you… love ME… I-I’ll always love y-you, Mother… always” Salvatore blurts, stumbling over his words as he tries desperately to comfort Mother Miranda, an effort he’s seemingly rewarded for, when Miranda takes one of her hands away and brings it back to the top of Salvatore’s head, once again gently brushing her hand against it.

Salvatore’s knees nearly give out from under him as the heavenly sensation washes throughout his body like a raging typhoon, leaving him feeling tired and weak yet hungry and wanting for more, though whatever that “more” was, Salvatore was quick to beat it back down deep within himself, knowing this was neither the time nor the place for him to be entertaining such… primal desires about someone like Mother Miranda, no matter how little he intends to act on them.

“Thank you, Moreau. You always know exactly what to say to make Mother feel better. You’re such a good boy” Mother Miranda says, making sure to put extra emphasis onto the last two words as she reaches forward and pulls Salvatore closer to her.

“G-g-g-gggg… good… boy… me?” Salvatore chokes, tears beginning to fill his eyes as Mother Miranda’s arms come to wrap around him, pushing the deformed man’s face to lean against the soft, feathery material of her bosom.

“Yes, Moreau. You’ve always been very special to me. From the day I met you, you’ve been such a good, well-behaved boy that I never have to worry about” Miranda begins, her face blank and expressionless as she passionlessly strokes Salvatore’s face. “No matter how simple the task, those 3 are always making mistakes of some kind and forcing me to come and clean up their messes after them, especially that snake Heisenberg. But you? No, never you, Moreau, not my special, perfect little boy who always tries his best to make Mother happy. Do you enjoy making Mother happy, Moreau?”

“Y-y-yES! Of-of c-course I do” Salvatore moans, his voice slightly muffled by Miranda’s chest as he violently nods his head in affirmation, tears freely falling from his eyes as his head swims deliriously from the endless wave of kind words and gentle touches.

“Good! I always knew you did. And for that, I'm going to reward you with something very special. Something to… keep you busy... while I’m away for a little while” The raven mother coos again.

Salvatore stops for a moment when the meaning of Miranda’s words finally registers in his brain. “While… w-while you’re… away? You’re l-leaving us?” Salvatore asks, his voice growing increasingly distressed with each word.

“Only for a short time, hopefully,” Mother Miranda answers, “but yes, at the end of this month, I will be leaving the village in order to attend to some very important business I have. I’m not sure how my journey will fare, however I'm optimistic that it will be the key necessary to finally getting my Ev- uh… pardon me; the key to finally achieving our goal of creating a perfect vessel. Doesn’t that sound nice, Moreau?”

“It-it does” the deformed man says quietly, still put off by the mention of Mother leaving, but not wanting to put a damper on his mother’s incredibly rare good mood. “But… where is i-it… th-that you’ll be g-going… an-and for h-how long?”

“Just down the mountain to pay someone a visit, however I have no idea when I'll be back. That will depend on how successful my mission goes, I suppose.”

Silence falls over the two as Salvatore, still upset by the news that Mother Miranda would be leaving, continues to take in the comfort and warmth of his Mother’s arms for just a moment longer, selfishly wishing that Mother held him more often. Eventually however, Mother Miranda does pull back from the superficial embrace, gesturing for Salvatore to follow her once more, which the deformed man begins to do without question.

“Of the 4 of you, you’re the last one to come and pick your gift,” Miranda says, unaware of the visible slump that Salvatore’s shoulders take on upon hearing this. “However, despite there only being one option left, it would appear as though your siblings have decided to spare you their usual games of trickery this time around. If anything, I think you might be the one to have ended up with the best deal after everything is said and done.”

Salvatore looks up at Mother Miranda with an expression of mild confusion, wondering what on earth she could mean by that. His musings are quickly interrupted however, when the two enter a large room filled with various pods.

“Of the 22 test subjects we started with last year, only 13 were genetically compatible with the cadou parasite, and even then, only 4 ended up surviving the full mutation phase. Despite their impressively stable conditions, they still aren’t suitable vessels for my purposes, however I felt as though it would be such a waste to just do away with them. So, with that in mind, I’ve decided that my gift to you all, before I must leave you for a time, is to give one test subject to each of you.”

“G-give? You’re… y-you’re giving us t-test subjects?” Salvatore repeats dumbly, not certain he understood where this was going.

“Correct” Mother Miranda affirms. “This is easily the most successful batch of mutations we’ve seen to date, and given the amount of time and effort I poured into making sure these last 4 survived until now, I’d at least like to see some use gotten out of them before they die or suddenly lose control of their mutations and go rogue.”

“Like… l-like what?” The hooded man asks nervously.

Miranda merely shrugs her shoulders, uncaring. “Anything you like. Housekeeper. Playmate. Labrat. Partner in Crime. Whatever it is you desire of your gift, you may have without question. And in the event they refuse you… well, you’ll at least have a fun little toy to chase after for a little while.”

“I... see...” Salvatore says quietly, growing less and less excited about this whole “gift” thing, now that he knows that his gift is just another person.

Another person to scream and wail at how unbelievably hideous and disgusting of a monster he looks, no doubt.

Without another word, Miranda heads over to the large control table located in the middle of the room, pressing a few buttons before 4 of the many identical pods begin moving toward them. Steam pours out the tops and bottoms of the metal pods as the large capsules slowly finish lowering themselves from their hung pedestals, displaying them directly in front of Miranda and Salvatore.  The man in question stands anxiously in front of the still sealed door, nervously fidgeting with his fingers as he waits for Mother to show him his gift, a myriad of thoughts and fears and worries flying throughout the mutant man’s mind.

“The first 3 have already been chosen by your siblings, but the one on the far right is all yours” Miranda says, pushing another button that causes the singular pod in question to click open, its door slowly beginning to rise upward toward the ceiling.

Salvatore nods in understanding as he tries to avoid watching the door of the pod open, instead hyper focusing on what Miranda is saying as the tension in the room becomes so thick it feels as if it could be cut with a dull knife.

After what felt like an eternity and a half of waiting, the pod door finally finished opening, and in that exact moment, as the disfigured man’s gaze finally fell upon the sight of his gift for the first time, his eyes went wide in shock, his mouth dropped open in disbelief, and his hands fell limply to his side in complete and utter bewilderment at the sight that stood before him.

“That… th-that’s… for me?” Salvatore manages to croak out, his throat suddenly dry as a desert and the air from his lungs having left him the second before.

Raising his hand up toward the creature wired into the pod, the hooded man finds himself unable to look away, feeling almost mesmerized as his mind struggles to figure out whether all this is really happening, or if he’d finally succumbed to the insanity of his condition and dreamt all this up as a sick and twisted way of coping with his soul crushing loneliness. Either one was just as likely at this point.

“I’m sure you’ll still be quite pitiful on the day I have to leave, but at least this way you’ll have something to keep yourself occupied with until I return, yes?” Mother Miranda says smugly, clearly pleased by his reaction. “So, what do you think, Moreau? Do you like the gift I’ve gotten for you?”

It wasn't until after several moments of silence that Salvatore finally responded. After stuttering and slurring unintelligibly over several sentences worth of responses, 2 words, and 2 words alone, finally managed to tumble from the mutant man’s lips, his eyes shining as he finally reached forward enough to slowly and carefully intertwine his fingers with the small and delicate hand of the beautiful young woman that slept peacefully inside the pod.

“She’s perfect!”

[amachaheadcanons]

Do you think the cast of Danganronpa v3 is chilling and vibin' in heaven? What happens to Rantaro and Tenko in the afterlife. Do they form a ghost relationship?

˚ᆺ˚

I've...actually never considered-- Um-- OMG YES!!!! AMACHA GHOST/AFTERLIFE AU FTW!!!!!

Or- OR. Instead of waking up the cast asap and shocking their system immediately, Team DR instigated level "limbo" as a way to ease the participants back into their real bodies. Slowly.

OKOKOK

Tenko would definitely be salty at first and seek out vengeance, however, I feel like Kiyo would be in hell due to his crimes but instead let's just say the kids are in limbo whilst the killing game is going on. . . yeah. Like a period of time to ease the deceased back into reality without simply awakening them and rendering them mentally and physically paralysed from the cruel reality they imposed on themselves!

She shakes and throws Kiyo to teach him a lesson whenever she gets close enough. Kaede and Kirumi stop her as much as they can but eventually stop trying due to her incredible persistence and the fact that it doesn't hurt him it's just time-consuming.

She pays no mind to Rantaro and Ryoma, considering they were victims. Excluding the odd degenerate comment here and there. Still harbouring some lingering hostility towards Angie.

She spies on Himiko and is happy to see her loosen up and begin her character arc. But is painfully aware of the fact they might never see each other ever again. She's rooting for her from the bottom of her heart so it's a bittersweet realisation.

Kaede still tries to help Tenko get over her bias, following around Shuichi and dragging Tenko along so she can witness his goodness. Eventually, Kaede gets tired of Tenko tarnishing his name so she turns to Rantaro as a live example. Often catching him being charismatic or really focused on something with that cute expression.

Considering they're probably going to spend eternity together, Rantaro's keen to form a bond. She throws him for being so casual about it. He doesn't mind cuz it's kinda fun. He just floats in a circle and back in front of her. Gravity in limbo is similar to on the moon only they can float. And the windy feeling when her hands brush against his limbs is really cool.

He apologises for not taking her more seriously and reintroduces himself adding, "C'mon, shake my hand, my soul's as transparent as ever," and "I'm not going anywhere Chabashira-san, no point holding a grudge into the afterlife,"

She's very stubborn at first, but considering how peaceful the living cast are, Tenko slowly realises this may potentially be the only people she'll be able to make amends with before passing into...hopefully, heaven.

Angie gets tired of the hostility and says the only way to enter heaven is to make amends. Kaede lies with good intentions, hoping her agreeance will push Tenko in the right direction.

It's a slow process until Miu is found dead. Tenko attempts to cling to the inventor, lacking protective malice as she learns there was no way to harm the searching soul. Miu acts normally and demands some alone time, complaining about Tenko's clingy nature and slips a, "Don't you get it Chabashitstain?! This is why Yusmello ran off with Yonorganism!"

Tenko starts distancing herself after that. Miu is mildly excluded until she makes it up to Tenko. Tenko verbally insists she forgives Miu. Deep down she can't hate a girl, though Angie & Miu were tempting that moral of hers.

Kaede attempts to console Tenko, followed by Kirumi, Angie, Miu, Hoshi then Gonta. But to no anvil. Gonta's pretty good at consoling too but it didn't sway her. She's startled by Gonta so much so, she throws him, along with assumptions of his murderous intent. The girl's groan in unison at her lack of hearing and self-centred nature before filling her in on how Kokichi manipulated the situation.

Tenko began to feel more and more alone despite the growing number of interactivity.

Rantaro grows concerned and bold, attempting a method unused thus far. "Chabashira-san, when you fell off a tree for the first time, did it scare you into trying again?"

"When your Sensei defeated you in a match time and time again, did you falter in challenging him again?" "How does Amami know th--" "Tenko, when you failed to throw your opponent over your shoulder, would you stop there and let the aggressor roam free?" "Of course not! Don't insult Ten--" "Then what's making you give up now??"

Cue Rantaro and his amazing words of conflicting. Being able to gently corner people with what they needed to face. "Don't run away from your emotions. Take your own advice and be honest with yourself. What else is there left for us?"

He reached her when everybody else lacked the knowledge and experience to touch her weeping heart. She starts reinviting herself into open discussions. Progress.

Tenko observes and attempts to understand the boys for the first time ever. She finds herself following Rantaro around the massive campus. Considering he's still trying to piece together the mastermind of such a grand scheme. They bond over their search. She gets to know him. And the other boys due to Rantaro being so friendly and charismatic.

By the time Kokichi joins them she's instinctively distant but Rantaro again has a soft spot for the misunderstood ones. Rantaro's kindness is so large it makes Tenko weak and frustrated. Suddenly, she worries he'll fall into Kokichi's trap. She starts worrying and watching his back silently.

Angie "gets a hint from the Gods" and starts shipping them. After a few funny comments from Angie, Kaede and Kirumi are on board. It's entertaining watching the almighty Aikido master blush, stutter, trip over nothing and float aimlessly despite her persistent walking and attempt to perfect her form.

Kaito quickly jumps on the bandwagon and suddenly their relationship is the most interesting thing that can link the kids to some form of normalcy. It was a good distraction from the pressing matters of the killing game.

Rantaro is none the wiser. However, when Kaede pushes Tenko to befriend Kaito and he notices her genuinely trying to find interest in conversing with the space-enthused boy...he's conflicted. He's proud of watching her progress unfold and honoured he took part in it, yet, feels a pang of tightness when seeing everyone boast about their blossoming friendship.

Considering Rantaro doesn't hear the teasing and gossip about Tenko's potential struggle. And upon noticing Tenko avoiding him oftentimes, he grows jealous. However, this makes the time she spends with him alone willingly, appear all the more special. He appreciates their friendship and confesses one night during training... "You've come a long way in the past month Tenko, I'm very impressed. Be proud of yourself. I know I am."

Somehow, his words make her chest tight. "I'm honoured to call you a friend."

Kokichi "boo"s him, the little eavesdropper. Angie slaps his mouth shut, Kaede scolds him, while Miu continues to embarrass the couple attempting to join their living comrades in their nightly training.

This however starts the tradition of the dead training alongside the living. Being with them in spirit and whatnot.

Tenko's bias dies down a lot in the span of 4 chapters. And when the truth is revealed to the deceased cast in the grand finale. The deceased cast is forced to awaken after Kiibo's blinding sacrifice. Tenko awakens with hasty breaths, demanding to see her friends. All of them. Boys included. Not allowing anything to take them away from her.

If Kirumi's the mum of the group, Tenko's definitely the overprotective big sister once she reaches her character arc.

I like this idea, it brings a little more hope to the despair. Plus I like the idea of them all being friends in the afterlife cuz there's no more threats or stress.

[amphxtrite]

1 • Amortentia.

chapter summary: an internal battle is made up with the help of the most powerful love potion ever known, but something occurs that had never been heard of before.

series summary: alone almost everyday from the moment you were born, thrown to the side by everyone in society because of who your parents were and who you were said to be, a death eater. Your parents were to of the most powerful dark wizards ever known and because of that you were shunned everywhere you went. When the hufflepuff golden boy sees you for the first time and falls, but is he willing to be judged, feared, and hated, and how far will he go, To Be At Her Side.

warnings: break down, bullying.

a/n: next chapter will have the first interaction between Cedric and the reader, this idea came to me and I thought it would be perfect to add.

taglist: @mullthingsoverinthehotwater @hoe4cedricdiggory @queenl04 @persephone-archives @0niko-san @degeathesaviour

word count: 1.7k

enjoy <3

__________________________________________

Amortentia.

The most powerful love potion in the world.

“If there’s one thing more powerful than young love, it’s this love potion.”

Days bleed into weeks for the hufflepuff boy, nights tossing and turning grow ever more common as your image plagues Cedric’s mind in the most addicting way possible.

Regret. How could he be so weak as to turn and tuck in his tail at the very face of the torture that surrounded you? Cedric walked the hallways everyday surrounded by friends and laughter, while you walked to your classes alone and with the constant jabs of people’s eyes and words.

His actions betrayed his thoughts and everyday he’d walk in the opposite direction, plastering a smile on his face as his internal battle raged on. As you walk the halls with a stoic face and your eyes staring straight forwards, Cedric stares from afar, picturing a world he could make you laugh and hold you close, but the strength to make that reality his own doesn't strike him, and he’s left to his own thoughts.

He begins noticing little things about you as days progress. You enjoy reading during meals, your h/c hair always blows into your face while you walk, you never smile, and professor Snape is the only person who willingly talks to you.

Cedric would’ve felt bad if it were only the last point alone, but with everything accumulated together he wished he could unsee everything and go back to not knowing of the horrors you had to face. A voice inside him told him he didn’t wish he never knew, he just wishes he could change it, and he had to agree, as vivid dreams of you smiling, dancing with him and resting in his arms, completely content, drift in his thoughts at random points throughout the day, bringing small smiles followed by furrowed eyebrows.

What was this feeling plaguing him? He couldn’t think back to any point in time these dreams had swamped his mind.

Strange feelings in his stomach, cheeks growing warm, and sweaty palms at just your sight. A dizziness and warm feeling in his chest at the scent of your light perfume. And a tendency to trip over his own feet when you came walking down the hallways, Cedric had never felt this before, and he was unsure what it meant.

Your words from that small slip of paper hadn’t left his mind.

‘They always give into the voices.’

He tried everything he could to get rid of the nagging voice that told him you had a point. He wanted so bad to tell himself it wasn’t his fault that he caved, a useless attempt, his morals reminded him every time he was in denial.

___

Potions, one of the many jewels of Hogwarts, school of witchcraft and wizardry. One of your favourite classes without a doubt. Potions was a place you could escape to and release your emotions into your work without the worry of too many voices and eyes because of Snape’s strict class. You were grateful for his actions to help you, though you had to admit he could go over the top.

The class was buzzing with the usual eeriness of the classroom, and no one was paying you any mind as you flipped through your textbook. You fiddle with the locket resting on your neck as you read. Despite it being something of the mother you never really knew, it was something you’d grown attached to over the years.

Snape begins walking across the class collecting essays, but his usual flow is cut off by a hufflepuff who seems to be deep in thought.

You roll your eyes; this would be good.

___

“Mr. Diggory!” An annoyed voice snaps.

Cedric’s head snaps up and he comes eye to eye with a disgruntled Snape.

“I asked for your essay three times now, where is it?” He hissed, extending his hand out.

“Oh. R-Right here sir.” Cedric stammers, pulling a sheet of parchment from his book ah and handing it to the professor.

He quickly takes it and walks back to the front of the class, placing the paper on his desk and turning back to the class.

“Now, who can tell me what amortentia is?” Snape questions, folding his arms.

A couple hands shoot up and he nods.

“Amortentia is the most powerful love potion in the world, drinking it can cause infatuation, but not love.” Your smooth voice answers as everyone tenses up. You rarely spoke up, and when you did a shiver seemed to run down everyone’s back.

“Very good y/n, but do not forget, the potion smells of what you love or are attracted to.” Snape nods, turning and scrawling something on the board.

“Professor, with all due respect, isn’t amortentia a potion usually learned in the newt classes?” A small voice asks.

“Oh I’m not asking you to make it, that would be a disaster, I’m doing a demonstration for all to consider entering a newt class, but remember I only accept the best for this class.” Snape sighs, placing some ingredients on a table to begin.

Soon the class is filled with wide eyes as Snape prepares the difficult potion with ease. Ingredient after ingredient is carefully measured and stirred until the liquid reaches a soft pink.

“Now I do not usually allow this, but due to Dumbledore’s wishes, I will allow you to smell the potion if you wish.” Snape rolls his eyes and steps back.

One by one, everyone steps up to the desk and tilts over to learn what attracts them most, relaying the information to the whole class in excitement.

Cedric stands and walks to the bubbling cauldron, wringing his finger together in anticipation as he stands before the caldron and takes a whiff.

A sweet, pleasant smell greets him, something floral, warm and gentle brings a smile to his face.

“old books, roses and-”

The sweet smell is taken over by something cold, like harsh wind in winter.

“Cold wind.” Cedric pauses, eyes flickering around as his brain registers everything.

“Very nice Mr. Diggory now please sit down.” Snape waves the hufflepuff away and you rise from your seat. As you walk by him, the smell of your perfume wafts past him and the sweet smell of roses strikes him, a realization in Cedric’s head. He had smelled you in the amortentia. Of all the things he could have smelled it was you that had his head spinning and thoughts clouded. His head begins to spin and he rests his chin against his arms on his desk. So that’s what the emotion plaguing him was, love. He was so in love with you, yet he’d never even spoken to yet.

You reach the pink potion, and allow yourself a small smile to Snape before hovering above the potion and taking a deep breath.

Nothing.

Your eyebrows furrow and you lean closer to the potion, taking deep breaths and smelling nothing. Even the usual scent of the potions classroom fades, it was as if you couldn’t smell at all.

“T-There must be a problem, I-I don’t smell anything professor.” You mumble, your head still hovering above the cauldron.

Snape’s eyes go from their usual annoyance to shock. Even he could smell something in amortentia, there was no way you couldn’t smell something. It was physically impossible.

“Try again, y/n, perhaps you are mistaken?” He suggests.

“Professor, when I try to smell it, it’s like I lose my sense of smell.” You exclaim quietly, an unbelieving smile plastered on your face as your eyes begin to cloud.

“T-This is a joke right professor?” You laugh incredulously. “Right?”

“y/n, I-”

“Serves you right, death eater!” An amused voice calls from the back of the class.

“Mr. Smith!”

“He’s got a point.” Another voice rings out with a laugh.

“Be better if she was locked in Azkaban though.”

“All the reasons to throw her with her parents.”

“She’s crazy, it’s only right she be left alone for the rest of her life.”

A single tear leaves your leaves you eye as your throat seems to close and your walls crash down., you could stand the usual mindless teasing, but this cut deep. You grab your bag from your desk before stomping off. Snape makes no move to stop you, immediately scolding the students tormenting you and shutting them up.

You were long gone by then, ignoring the stares in the slytherin common room and speeding to a run to your secluded room, collapsing on your bed and curling yourself into a ball.

As your tears flowed free you were almost grateful for your own room, you didn’t need anyone hearing your breakdowns to laugh even harder. Your body pulses as cries choke your voice, you scream into your pillow and curse your parents and every crime they committed to get you to where you were today.

You rip the locket from your neck and wrap it in your fist, raising your hand with the intent to smash it, but slowly bringing it back down as your breathing grows slower, with only the occasional tear.

“Even after everything you’ve done to me, I-I still can’t do it!” You sob, bringing your hands to your face and wiping the tears away.

You open the locket to find the same two faces looking back at you. The stoic, unbreakable expression you inherited from your mother, and those e/c eyes from your father, and in small print, the words ‘I love you.’

You scoff at the writing, shutting the locket and placing it on your bedside table.

“You say you love me, but brought me into a world you couldn’t save me from.”

Your head falls into your hands as you cradle yourself and rock yourself back and forth.

From the potions classroom, the buzz from your departure had left the class quite proud of themselves, thinking they’d done something, getting you to break. Cedric held back the urge to punch the asshole who started this mess, no matter how hard his wishes to protect you fought, his fear of being next followed, and he couldn’t find the strength to set himself free, but he knew it was time to do something and this time he wouldn’t be stopped.

[bamfdaddio]

X-Men Unabridged: Proteus

The X-Men, those beautiful mutants that have sworn to protect a world that hates and fears them, are a cultural juggernaut with a long, tangled history. We’ve been untangling that history for a while, but sometimes, you really want a more in-depth look. Interested? Then read the (un)Abridged X-Men!

(X-Men 125 - 128) - by Chris Claremont and John Byrne

Fun* fact: this particular issue is the oldest comic I physically own.

* for a given value of fun

Something sinister lurks on Muir Isle…

This arc is very much set up like a horror movie. It starts out as a regular X-Men narrative, where Claremont is weaving along several plot threads. We check in with the X-Men in Westchester, we check in with Magneto who has retreated to Asteroid M and we even check in with Xavier in space, who finally learns more about the true scope of the Phoenix and its nature. Finally, we’ve got Jean stationed at Muir Isle, where Moira is investigating the sheer scope of her powers. (She has realized how strong Jean truly is; akin to a god. Her theory is that Jean’s recent power dampening is the result of her human mind trying to cope with her massive power level.) It’s about as everyday as it gets for the X-Men, but, well…

I always thought Jean molecularly restructured her own outfit into the Phoenix-costume whenever she needed to change, but here, she just… wills it away? Also, why did you need an outfit change for this, anyway? Does the costume simply appear whenever she exerts too much of her powers, like an angry forehead vein? So many questions. (X-Men 126)

Other residents at Muir are Polaris, Havok and the Multiple Man, all of them blissfully unaware that something skulks about in the shadows: the remains of an unfortunate captain, whose body has been taken over by something… other.

But someone else is skulking around in the shadows, too. Jean isn’t aware of it, but a familiar stranger is manipulating her from the sidelines.

I’ve been gaslighting a cosmic force, ask me how! (X-Men 126)

1979 marks the first appearance of the Hellfire Club, though we only meet one member for now: Jason Wyngarde. (Maybe all of this could have been avoided if he’d had a Barbie doll to dress up in black lace as a child, but alas.) ‘Jason’ is a pseudonym and though most people these days know that he’s a familiar villain from the X-Men’s past, the reveal of his true identity will follow later.

Meanwhile, Beast finally gets off his ass to check on the Xavier mansion, even though the X-Men must have been tripping intruder alarms for months now. Still, we do get this sweet moment out of it:

Of course she’s going to be surprised at the sheer amount of plot contrivances that were thrown up to keep all y’all apart for a full year. (X-Men 126)

Beast knows that Jean went to Muir, so Scott immediately goes for the phone. Lorna picks up, but during the call she starts screaming, leaning heavily into the horror genre. She fends off the withering remains of the captain, so instead, ‘Mutant X’ jumps into a duplicate of Jamie Madrox and promptly flees to the mainland on a boat.

Guuurl, that body is snatched. (X-Men 126)

The X-Men (sans Beast) hit Muir Isle, where Moira debriefs them. Moira reveals who Mutant X is: his name is Kevin MacTaggart, her son, who has the terrifying power to warp reality. Because his power is so vast, he burns through bodies at an alarming rate. He can only be contained - or killed - by inorganic metal. In an effort to contain him (and, presumably, help him at some point), Moira locked him in a metal cell. He was kept there, alone, for god knows how long, until Magneto accidentally freed him. They know he escaped the island and, because of his parasitic need for fresh host bodies, Moira posits that he’ll be heading for a big city.

Kevin - who dubs himself Proteus - racks up an impressive body count in the country side, killing 7 people in total. (6 people and 1 dupe? Eh.) He’s a terrific villain, because he’s powerful, has a well-defined weakness and, even though it’s not impossible to emphasize with him -- isolation tends to drive people mad -- the way he discards his victims is truly chilling.

The X-Men chase after him, Wolverine picking up the scent. When Proteus tries to claim him, Logan’s adamantium skeleton repels him. In response, he unspools reality.

I’ve had this trip. I think they call this strain Dragon’s Dynamite. (X-Men 126)

Storm intervenes, but Proteus leaves Nightcrawler and especially Wolverine rattled. Logan’s heightened senses root him in reality more than most, and when Proteus uses his powers, everything is just screaming wrong at him. But nobody is safe: little Kevin MacTaggart turns gravity against Ororo, taking her out as well.

He tries to claim Storm, but Moira repels him, sniping at him from afar. Proteus fears (metal) bullets, knowing they can kill him. When Cyclops realizes Moira’s shooting to kill, he intervenes - X-Men don’t kill, after all. Moira knocks him out with her gun, but Kevin escapes in the confusion. Moira finally realizes where her son is headed, while the X-Men regroup.

In Edinburgh, Moira pays Joe MacTaggart a visit - her husband, Kevin’s father.

The MacTaggarts are definitely in the running for the Xavier/Marko-award for Fucked Up Family Dynamics. (X-Men 127)

There’s a calculating coldness to Moira’s character that I’ve never responded well to, but I like how Claremont fills in the blanks here. It’s part unhappiness, part a deep frustration with her inability to help her own son. I wonder how Kevin was a child, before his mutant gene activated: was he a sweet boy, or one with a cruel streak? Did she fear what he might become?

There’s a few gaps in Claremont’s narrative, but Hickman has drawn on this very well, I think: the Moira X in HoXPoX is equally calculating, equally cold. But how can she not be? How often has she raised Kevin? How often has she had to kill him? How many times has she watched these people, these X-Men, die?

Anyway, Moira’s warning is as effective as anger management therapy for Sabretooth, because Kevin comes by Joe’s office a little while later and snuffs out his dad. Phoenix hears Joe screaming telepathically across the moors, allowing the X-Men to pinpoint him. Claremont also makes sure to show that Jean’s power is steadily growing:

Polaris be like: “No, no, I’m carrying my own emotionally stunted Summers boy, thank you.” (X-Men 127)

Proteus takes Moira hostage as the X-Men confront him. They fight.

Ordinarily, I don’t pay a lot of attention to the fight scenes, because recapping those usually boils down to “Cyclops conks Magneto in the helmet” or “Wolverine snikts Pyro in the gas tank”, but this one is truly great. John Byrne delivers some excellent work, showcasing the scope of Proteus’ powers through his art, his panelling. Don’t just take my word for it:

I love how trippy all of this is. Pivoting gravity, changing an optic beam into flowers… Sure, Proteus might be a callous and cruel SoB, but he’s also one imaginative motherfucker. (X-Men 127)

One by one, Proteus manages to distract or take out the X-Men, either by endangering passers-by, encasing them in amber (Storm) or burying them alive (Banshee). One of my favorite details is how afraid they all are: especially Wolverine and Nightcrawler hesitate before jumping into the fray. For them, this villain is truly beyond their scope.

In the end, it’s Phoenix who manages to drive him back, outside of the center of Edinburg and up an old castle, where there are fewer civilians to threaten. There, on the ramparts, it’s Colossus who makes the final stand: he destroys Proteus’ physical body and realizes that right now, there’s only one thing they can do to stop him. All it will cost is Piotr’s innocence.

Showcasing an ancient Japanese truth: Psychic Pokémon are weak to Steel attacks. (X-Men 128)

Proteus scatters to the winds and the X-Men emerge victorious, though Moira has lost both her son and her husband after this ordeal. Moreover, I think this is the first villain that the X-Men explicitly kill, simply because they have no other options left. This marks the first time that their ideal of mutant rehabilitation fails. What’s worse is that Kevin MacTaggart was essentially nothing more than a supremely screwed up boy who got access to way too much power way too quickly.

I wonder if it would have turned out differently had Xavier been there. (I also wonder if it’s a coincidence that this takes place right before the Dark Phoenix saga.)

I think this might be Claremont’s best arc yet, heightened by John Byrne’s excellent art. Chris deftly mixes horror, action and his usual soap opera elements, serving one cohesive narrative that (for once) doesn’t leave much hanging. Proteus is an excellent villain whose powers work visually (pay attention, MCU) and whose entire being touches on one of the same aspects as Krakoa: can and should every mutant fit into any sort of normal society?

If you have someone who’s interested in vintage X-Men and you want to recommend something that doesn’t require a confusing explanation of all the necessary backstory (and perhaps a crude sketch of the Summers and/or Lensherr family tree), I would recommend this arc.

And the rest, as they say, is Hellfire. 1980 is gonna be a doozy.

[thewritingstar]

The Sun Sets With You

Pairing: Blossutch 

Fandom: Powerpuff Girls 

Rating: T

Word count: 6k 

Warnings: Major Character Death. 

Note: I am so excited to finish this fic! Thank you so much to @creativecilla for commissioning time and time again. She asked for a sad and angsty fic so I hope I delivered! (She also asked for a happy fic so dont worry that's coming soon)

Don't worry there will be a little bonus after this so don't come for my throat too hard.

Anyways, I hope that you enjoy this because I had the time of my life writing it while crying.

Thanks for reading <3

(the italicized is flashbacks just in case ya confused :) 

✼　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　✼

“Your love is like a sunset, the longer I wait, it slowly fades into the sea, making a beautiful distraction, As loneliness and despair creep from behind like the shadow of the night.” -Albion Gremory

✼　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　✼

The gate waits patiently for her to cross. It's black and shiny as if it were polished just for her. She has been here for almost an hour and yet she hasn't moved an inch. The bouquet of flowers she spent just as long picking out are starting to get annoyed by her lack of movement and although they don’t have a voice or emotions, she can tell they are growing weary too.

She doesn’t understand. Why couldn’t she simply walk forward and make this easy? She was a trained assassin, a spy at the very core where nothing could challenge her except for this field of grass. Grass that is bright green and thriving yet underneath its healthy roots, is a minefield of bodies. It's odd to think about. The care and water used to make sure that the green is at its brightest and the stone looks nice but in reality, it won’t matter.

Nothing matters anymore.

Her grip tightens on the poor flowers. A frail red ribbon holds them together instead of being wrapped in her ginger hair where it belongs. The last time she wore it was the day...it's been a while.

The cemetery has a familiar feel to it. She’s been here before. She has been here many times and has even memorized the grounds. However, this time is much more...intimate. A much more personal experience.

It was never personal because in her line of work, this was normal and happened often. You would come into the office and hear about the poor sucker that got shot, stabbed or blown to bits, grab a hopefully fresh cup of coffee and make sure that you don’t end up the same as them. It was all a part of the job to join the unavoidable circle of life.

Before it was just people whose identities changed day in and day out to avoid this particular outcome. To avoid becoming worm food and having fresh flowers at the bottom of your name. Death never meant anything to her but an end we all have to face. It never meant to stop and think about your life because she didn’t have one to live.

There was no glory waiting for her back home as she finished another mission. There was no dream to achieve because she plagued those of her mind years ago. Warmth and desire from others could not be tolerated. It was dangerous to have anyone close to you but hurt even more when they were gone.

Her dreams had been swept into the night and burned like a fallen star. They were meant for rare quiet days where she could close her eyes and have a glimpse of another chance at life and then it would be over and she couldn’t allow anyone to hold her back. But just as there are dreams, nightmares will surface too.

This was a nightmare only for her eyes. It was common for members of their work to come and pay respects if they got time but for this, she asked that she would be the first. And only then was anyone else allowed.

The months that ate away at her aching heart caused her to be the opposite. She said she had gone, said her dues and the rest followed. Her lies now corrupted her normal life, if you could even call it normal.

So she became the last person and perhaps that's for the best. Even in death, she keeps him waiting. But unlike the other times, he couldn’t leave or say anything about it. The silence of the coffin was enough for her to know that she might get the last words like always but she doesn’t want them.

She would rather keep her words to herself, her mouth stapled shut than utter the last words. She also knew that he would rather listen to her all day than have a moment of silence.

So here she is. A little black dress that poofs out gently at the bottom just above her knees. It was the same dress she had worn on their mission in Italy years ago. It had ended up on the hotel bathroom floor much sooner than expected, however this time the smell of sandalwood and pine had been washed out.

She feels like a housewife ready to see her lost husband coming back from the war in the form of a corpse. The only difference is her vision won’t include the golden bands. Her thumb grazes her ring finger feeling nothing but bare skin and it pains her to think that she was so close. So close to a dream.

She inhales and exhales. Her ability to control her emotions is unlike anyone else. If she chooses to be a stone wall, then nothing will make her crumble. For years she had seen bloodshed and violence. Encountered dangerous people and never once had a hard time sleeping.

Steps take her closer and she feels herself start to decay brick by brick.

Every breath comes out colder and slower and she doesn’t have to look to know she's right in front of it because all the oxygen surrounding her has left and replaced with a frosted void she's grown used to over these past few months.

“Hello.” Her voice is firm and polite.

Formal. She’s too formal and she can practically feel him rolling in his grave to tell her to die it down. Die it down. She hums at that thought and complies with the request that wasn’t even asked but she knows him.

Her feet slip out of her heels, the ones he had bought randomly. The ones she had danced in as he spun her slowly. Her toes feel the dew on the grass. She hates the feeling, her exposed skin starts to itch and irritate her but that just reminds her of her beating heart. So she forces herself to rest on her knees but keeps her eyes shut. Bravery was never something she lacked.

But being brave with her vulnerable emotions had never come easy.

“Just open them.” She scolds herself. No one is around but she feels like the entire world is staring at her.

This isn't work.

This isn’t a mission.

This is him.

Slowly her eyes flutter open to reveal the truth she tried to conceal. The wall inside of her has fallen. There's a suffocating way about this all. She's a woman of logic, a see it before believe it kind-of-person. It's a crumbling mess that turns her into ruins.

And that's when it hits her.

Like the fall of Rome, there are no survivors. There is no happy ending here. Everything leads to Rome...everything leads to heartbreak eventually.

Tears overwhelm everything else. Blossom Utonium has cried for a fallen coworker but never once had she had to grieve and take in the burden of her heart growing dark and heavy.

Her fingers clench the soil. She didn’t want to cry. Didn’t want to sob, not at the risk of seeming weak, but to actually force herself to come to terms with it. To see it written in stone as literal as it comes.

Butch Jojo is dead.

There’s no other way to put it. No soft angle to come at. No lessening the blow because she was there and saw it with her own eyes. No one had to tell her because she relieved it every time her eyes closed.

How was she supposed to go on? He was the piece of her puzzle that fit so neatly and perfectly. She didn’t realize that the picture became indecipherable the moment he was removed. She clawed at that table trying to put back all the pieces. Trying to figure out where they all go but she's left with segments that don’t seem to fit any longer.

He was her sun and moon, the day and night and every other cliche slapped onto an overpriced Hallmark card. He was it all, and now he is gone. Gone too soon and she barely had him in the first place.

The gravestone itself is simple. It's the only one on the lot that isn't decorated by a three foot high statue or a giant cross. It's as basic as they come yet the man it was for was far from it. There was no luxury of filling the coffin with a body. So every bit of him was taken physically and metaphorically from her.

His name is in an elegant cursive and his birth name. Something most people didn’t know. Usually spies and assassins change up their name to make their identity untraceable. She had known him as many different names, but Butch was the only one who she cared about. The only one to ever make her feel like herself.

Her fingers hover above the engraving before setting on the coldness and tracing it with the tip of her index finger. It takes her breath away like an old candle finally burning out.

She wonders if a cruel joke is being played on her as she stares at the curls of the cursive. It was the same font she had chosen for their makeshift wedding invitations the moment she realized that he was the one. Of course he would have had comic sans or some heavy metal font on his tombstone if he was given the chance just to spite everything and everyone.

She's sure that this was already made far before his death. In fact, she's convinced that everyone already has a grave with their name stored somewhere in the back for fast and easy access. Hers is probably waiting and collecting dust.

“Hi.” She utters, less formal than the first time and that felt like ages ago. “For the first time, I’m speechless.” She confesses. “I’m not quite sure what to say.”

For days she sat underneath her flickering desk light writing a speech for a funeral that no one would attend.

The words never came into place even though she deemed herself a thoughtful writer. But what do you say when the person who gave you a reason to speak is gone? Was there anything worth uttering when she couldn’t bring herself to do it?

But she wrote. She wrote everything she had felt and ended with a flood of pages on her desk. Pens with tired ink cartridges littered her desk and endless chicken scratched papers were tossed away. It needed to be thoughtful and inviting but in reality, it just needed to be the words she never said.

The moment she finished writing them, she threw them into a box to never see the light of day. But when she finally had the courage to come and pay her respects, she became drawn to them. Her mind fought with her hands to take them even if she decided to keep them in her purse.

Her purse opens and she takes out a few pages. The ones that made her heart ache the most and that are decorated with stains of dried tears. She clears her throat. “The first time I met you, I thought nothing of it. It was in front of the coffee maker at work, you had just joined our firm and you walked by, glanced at me and then you were gone into the other room. That was it. That's what we were meant to be. A simple meeting of the eyes and then we don’t interact again.”

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The coffee drips way too slow, she thinks. A state of the art facility full of lasers, guns and cars and they couldn’t be bothered to get something just slightly better. The mug finishes filling just in time for her patience to run out. She grabs it and turns to look out towards the rows of cubicles that make it seem like a simple office.

Instead of a bored coworker looking tired at a computer, she's met with green eyes and an emotionless face. For a second she saw his lips turn into a smirk. It's quick. A match striking the box with a flame igniting on impact. And then it’s dropped in water and out just as fast. He's gone by the time she blinks next and even though it was nothing, those eyes fueled a fire she wasn’t sure she had.

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“But then I kept seeing more and more of you.”

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“You clean up nice.” Blossom turned to see a guy. She recognized him from last week, a new transfer who she only caught a glance at. He was in a highly expensive tux and was adjusting the equally priced watch on his wrist.

“I assume you must be my new partner.” She said as she mentally analyzed him slowly. Slicked black hair, looks as if he goes to the gym quite often, hands looks steady for a firearm. Green. Forest green eyes.

He smiled. “Must be.”

“You can call me Amanda.” Her fake name suited her fine as she checked the time. “I hope that you read over the files of our mission.”

“I tend to skim and wing it.” He winked and that irked her. “Matts fine for the evening.”

Blossom, or Amanda for now, kept her eyes from rolling and walked to him and wrapped her arm around his. “You might be my husband for this mission but if you fuck up, you better be thankful this isn’t legally bounded.” She finished with a flutter of her eyelashes and a smile before pulling him along.

She didn’t get too far before he pulled her back and her bright pink eyes met deep green ones closely. “I take my job very seriously. But I wouldn’t dream of making you mad at me. But on the other hand, I admire strong women.”

She didn’t know why she didn’t smack him in the face. Usually every partner who has tried to flirt or mess with her learned the hard way that is a no no. Yet, even after moments of knowing him, there was something genuine about him that she couldn’t quite understand but became interested in.

“Glad to see we are on the same page Matt.”

“Of course Amanda.” Butch replied and held out his hand. “After you.”

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The trees nearby moved in the breeze without a care in the world. They had nothing to care for except for their leaves changing in the fall and losing them in the winter. But leaves always came back, they always blossomed and started a new life and were the same tree no matter how many times the seasons passed.

She wondered if those trees ever felt heartbreak or if it was easier to lose something when you know it will come back to you with time. She envied those trees. Envied the way that they can continue their lives just growing and flourishing and it felt like her leaves were turning to dust as she was being cut down.

From her purse she pulled out a thermos and two plastic cups. She nestled one into the ground as she poured the wine into the cup and then one into hers.

“I never cared for this brand of wine before I met you.” She smiled softly and took a sip. “Never cared for a lot of things. Yet this was your favorite and everytime we had a mission, I could always find you relaxing with a glass. I guess it became an acquired taste over time. You became my taste.”

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“Care for a glass?” He asked her as she sat in front of the fireplace.

Due to them working together for more than a year, the agency decided that personal rooms weren’t necessary and if anyone were to see them leave together and follow, it would fit with their stories.

Blossom looked up from the book she just pulled out. A dissatisfying glare focused on the bottle in his hand. “No thanks, that stuff is garbage.”

Butch, or well, Sebastian for the evening, scoffed. “Garbage?” He exclaimed dramatically. “This is some of the finest wine in the world.”

“I’ve had better.”

“It's from Italy!”

“I prefer local or even cheap box wine to that.” Blossom scanned her book.

Butch only huffed again but still proceeded to pour two glasses and joined her on the floor.

“I said I didn’t want any.”

“I think you just haven’t had it with the right company.” He smirked and offered her the glass.

She rolled her eyes and took the glass, her book forgotten now. Blossom brought the glass to her lips, took a sip and tried her best to hold back a grimace. “It's fine.”

He only shook his head and drank his own glass, the small smile on his lips never leaving. “Butch.”

She turned the glass in her hand then glanced at him. “What?”

“Butch. That's my name, my real name.”

Her heart started beating quicker. “Why are you telling me this? You shouldn’t be.”

It was a common understanding. You might know the face of your partner or colleagues but a name and identity was off the table. The only thing anyone needed to track down someone was a name. And the moment it's out there, you can start counting your days.

Butch shurgged and downed the rest of his wine. “Not sure. Never told anyone before. Well anyone who I didn't know beforehand. But there's something about you. I don’t think you fully trust me. I get it of course. I don’t trust people at all.”

“So why tell me?” She questioned.

His eyes met hers. Seriousness washed across his face and any hint of amusement was gone. “I have no one in my life who knows me as Butch anymore. Only myself and my thoughts. And after years in this shit business-you’re the only partner I’ve had that I trust with my life.”

Her fingers tighten around the stem of the glass. Her poor heart is beating much faster; she's sure he can hear it. She’s never had a partner like him. Never met a person who she blindly trusted like this.

“Blossom.” She blurts out. “My name is Blossom.”

And that smirk returns and his eyes soften. She's seen him kill a man before and yet he looks so incredibly soft and honest.

“That's a pretty unique name.”

“My father told me it was because of cherry blossom trees.” She smiles at the memory. She reaches and takes the brown contact from her eyes. Her main defying feature that no one but the higher ups knew about.

Her eyelashes flutter as she places them in the contacts case. She looks back at Butch and prepares for the intergation look.

It never comes.

Instead he's looking at her as if she's the most interesting thing in the world. Pastel pink eyes greet his own and he's taken back and tries to keep these emotions down.

“Its weird I know-

“You’re the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever met.” He interrupts. “And I swear I’m not drunk.

That flicker resurfaced. The match struck the box but the flame was held much longer this time. Her reaction surprised the both of them as she laughed and her smile reached her eyes, something they haven’t done naturally in years.

She controlled her laugh and hummed bringing the glass to her lips and taking another sip. It wasn’t as bad as the first. “And you are very-”

“Charming? Irresistible?”

“Interesting.” She finished.

The bottle poured more wine into his glass and he tapped it to hers. “I’ll take it for now.” He winked.

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Her glass is empty now. She pours the glass for him into the soil, hoping to give him one last taste of what he loved.

“Over the years I forgot myself, you have to.” Blossom tells him. “I forgot my passions and hobbies. The simple pleasures of life were taken from me when I joined this path.”

The books on her shelf at home had collected dust over the years. The pages stuck as the days passed but only recently did she find herself opening them, even to just a random page and basking in the tiny shred of warmth it gave her.

“I felt those pleasures rise with you. Even buying a simple candle because you said you liked the scent brought me a joy I hadn’t noticed was missing. I was missing everything in life because I didn’t have a light to guide me.”

She bites her lips hoping to stop another sob. How many tears can a person shed in a short amount of time? When do they stop and allow the body to rest?

“That first time you kissed me.” Her voice cracks. “That's when I started believing that life could be more than what we were conditioned to do.”

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Her feet ached. Her heels were in her hands and she was tired from another successful work day. After six months of locating and sniffing out an underground drug market, they finally caught the group of men.

She glanced at her shoes and dress, irritated that the blood ruined another perfectly good outfit. She wanted to just get into her room, take a bath and pass out on her bed and to not be distrubed for at least seventy two hours.

She got to her hotel door and started to search for her key.

“Oh shit.” She grumbled. Her purse was nowhere in sight.

“Here.”

Blossom turned to see Butch holding the desginer bag.

A sigh of relief left her lips as she took it and fished out the key card. He leaned against the wall, clearly tired and wanting to rest like her. Two years they had been partners. The longest partnership she’s had and she wasn’t complaining. Usually they shared a room on missions but they had separate rooms this time.

“Tired?” She glanced at him.

“No, I'm fully awake.” He said sarcastically. “I feel like I got hit by a freight train.”

“I’m sure those guys thought they did too when you punched them.” Her door clicked open but she didn’t move.

“Oh please, you did most of the heavy lifting. I mean who takes down a giant dude with a high kick in heels.” He was practically beaming with pride from the memory. “Badass stuff Bloss.”

She was sure there was a blush on her cheeks. Shaking those thoughts from her head she smiled and opened the door. “Goodnight Butch.”

“Night.”

…

..

.

“Isn’t this the part where you walk into your room?” He raises a bow that is answering the silent question she asked.

She straightens her back. “Shouldn’t you be walking to yours?”

He moves closer to her. Brushing the hair on her shoulders off and there's a buzz throughout her as his fingers graze her shoulders.

He's closer now. Their lips only inches apart and although her body is killing her and aching, she can’t help but let her mind wander.

“I prefer the view right here.” He says in almost a whisper that makes the hairs on the back of her neck stand. “And possibly even the taste.”

His lips press against hers. They have kissed many times in front of people on missions but it's never been like this. Never a sign that everything she had been feeling, wanting could be hers for the taking.

It's not fast and heated. It's slow as if he's testing out the waters that he can glady swim in. It's a sign that they know they shouldn’t be doing this but for once, she's playing by a different set of rules.

They break apart. The kiss wasn’t very long but the sparks linger and scorch through her body. She's afraid to look at him now. Afraid that rejection and everything she had told herself not to want, can’t be hers. The ground should just swallow her whole now.

She feels a hand softly touch her cheek and she looks up at him. This look on his face, she can't describe it. She can see the gears turning in his head, wondering if this was a mistake just as she thought.

But rejection never comes. He doesn’t pull or push away.

Instead his lips turn slightly up. “I know we fight for the greater good, but I’m starting to think I have a different purpose.”

“What?” She questions.

“You.”

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She could have sworn it's only been a few minutes but the sky’s blue had morphed into a dusty pink. A wonderful sunset that she is surprised she can still find beauty in. She knows she’ll have to leave soon. She is afraid that when she does, she might not come back.

One of the final happy moments with him was weeks before his death. Five years they had known each other and it was all washed down the drain.

Her head turns towards the sky as she basks in the sunset. “I hope that wherever you are there are still skies like these.”

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Sunsets in Hawaii were much better in person than any photo could capture.

“Another successful mission.” Blossom giggles as she takes a sip of her mai tai. Her feet are swaying above the water and the breeze flows through her hair. She hasn’t remembered being this peaceful but she could get used to it.

“Yeah.” Butch says as he downs his drink.

Five years she's known him. Every action and mannerism he's done is burned in her memory. It's the most priceless information she has, the most important because it's all hers.

He seems calm, she admits. But something is on his mind. He's not thriving in the glory of another mission or running around crazy and jumping into the ocean like the days before. He seems to be in deep thought. Something she's not quite sure she likes.

The horizon catches her eyes. “The sky is pretty.” She adds.

“Runaway with me.”

The movement of the waves stops. The breeze halts and her eyes widen.

“What?” She turns towards him. “Runaway?”

He nods. “Runaway from this place and all its madness. We could get married, travel the world, anything you want.” He took her hand. “I don’t care where we go. I just want to be with you.”

“With me?” She's practically speechless.

Butch cracks a smile. “Only you. Imagine this.” He scoots closer to her and wraps his arm around her shoulder. “A house on private property, hell maybe even a beachfront. You have your own little library and I’ll even get you a nice espresso machine. A garden with all the flowers you could imagine and even a baby grand piano since I know how much you love to play.”

The images flood her mind. “That sounds lovely.”

“And you wanna know the best part?” He asks.

She nods her head. “Tell me.”

“I would get to wake up each morning with you in my arms.” He smirks and kisses her softly.

“That would be the best part.” She hums against his lips. Her stomach then drops. “But we can’t.”

“Three good reasons.”

She tried to think. How could she leave the agency she's been in since she was a kid? How could she throw everything away? These feelings she had were all muddled into a mess that she didn’t know how to get out of. That vision he told her sounded like a dream.

That's what this was. A dream. Something she wasn’t allowed to have. But she wanted it.

Butch sighed. “I guess it's easier for me cause I’m selfish.” He smiled softly at her and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Whatever choice you make, as long as I can still be by your side, is fine by me.”

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Blossom looks at the notes in her hands then back to the stone.

“I’m sorry Butch.” She cries and crumples them. Tears overwhelm her once again but she doesn’t wipe them or try to stop it. She is a dam that's been holding it all for too long. Holding her emotions for years and she was tired.

“Everyone told me to come here to get closure, but I don't want that. I want to feel the emptiness and shallowness. I want to cry myself to sleep and wish I could hold you again. It's torturous and cruel to think like that but it means that it was real. And that it was mine. This-” She beats her fingers against her chest, against her heart. “This is yours.”

“I am sorry Butch. I vowed to never let my heart act over my head. And that is something I regret deeply. You were right. You always have been. You wanted me without hesitation and I’m sorry I was guarded. But I swear when I was with you I wasn’t.”

The laughter and joy he brought her. She felt like she was breathing for the first time around him and even in the most serious situations there was still an element of peace.

“I had hoped that I would never have to say this. Never had to face this reality because it's too painful. I tried to deny it all, even though I watched it happen. Maybe if I had never let myself be charmed by you, I could avoid all these feelings but we both know that you were just so-’ She bites a laugh. “Irresistible.”

Her voice got louder as her sobs grew. “Every single moment was worth it. Your eyes and your smile. The way you knew what I was thinking even though no one else could ever know. I treated it like our job but the truth is, I wanted you to figure me out so I could finally tell myself it's okay to be happy. That's what you were Butch. My happiness.”

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This can’t be happening, she thought. Never in her entire career had she been kidnapped and captured. She was careful and guarded but they got the best of them this time.

The gag in her mouth was doing its job and her wrists were bound behind her back. The cold chill ran up her spine as she watched the men drag him in front of her. He was a few feet away and his face was covered in blood and bruises.

“Only one of you makes it out alive.” The man said.

She tried to pull against the restraints but felt the cool metal touch the back of her head.

“No moving sweetheart.” She heard behind her.

She watched as they removed Butch’s gag and he choked on the air before his hair was pulled and he was forced to look at her.

Those dark green eyes met with frightened brown but he knew that below the color was a brilliance of magenta that he adored.

He should be scared and terrified. And he was. But looking at her even in this state, he felt a sense of happiness wash over him. Everything he never thought he could have was right there in front of him.

Tears fell from her eyes as she watched the man stab him in the stomach. The knife plunged into his flesh and Butch let out a horrifc cry as she screamed into the gag.

“Dying words buddy?” The man laughed as he pulled out a gun and held it up to head.

Even through the pain shooting through his body, he looked at her with tears in his eyes.

His lips turned into a smile, even with blood coating his teeth. “Blossom-” He coughed.

No.

No.

Please No!

She wanted to scream and tell him that she takes it all back. She wanted her dress and the ring. She wanted their own house and a piano where she could play for him.

Everything. She wanted everything.

She wanted him.

“I love you.” He says. 

BAM!

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Her breath catches in her throat as she sees it. The blood and the life leaving his eyes. It replays and she tries to stop the memory.

“Could you ever forgive me?” She sobs. “Forgive me for not telling you?”

Her hand presses against the gravestone. She's not sure what she's hoping for but it's cold.

“You said it moments before your death and I couldn’t even let you die with that. Yet through that you smiled at me. You fucking smiled as death was taking you faster than I could realize because you knew. I couldn’t say it. No matter how much I wanted to tell you, I was afraid that the moment I did, this would happen. I wasn’t prepared to lose you. I wasn’t ready to face a life where I would spend every waking moment wondering if waking up next to you was truly real or a dream.”

Anger rises in her. Anger at the world and the men who killed him. Angry at the agency who turned the other eye when he died. There was nothing for her there anymore. She realized it way too late that she was robbed of everything from this life. Robbed of having him because she was afraid.

“I don't get it. How did you make me want that so bad? How you took my heart and made it beat faster than ever before. You told me to be selfish so here it is. I want you. I want you back and alive so that I can go and buy that white dress. I want everything you said.”

The anger bubbling shifts. It lingers but she takes a deep breath. It won’t help her to be angry or to bring him back. That sorrow takes its hold over her again. It's sad but calming as she tries to reason with herself that he is gone. She knows closure won’t come but she's okay with that.

“But that's not the reality anymore. I can’t change the past but I won’t change the future either. I am deeply and madly in love with you Butch. You gave me a glimpse of what a normal and fulfilling life could be and I thank you for that. Thank you for giving me slices of happiness and making me feel like I was worth loving.”

She reaches into her purse one last time and pulls out a letter and a box. “I resigned and I bought myself a ring.” She opens it and slips on the silver band with a small opal. “It's silly I know, not even a wedding ring. I hope you don’t mind. I stole one of the gems from your watch to make it.” She cries.

“They took all your stuff you know.” Her hands quiver as she stares at her ring. “They took every part of you like it was nothing, like you didn’t exist at all. The watch was all I could get.”

The sun is now setting and the breeze picks up. She's not cold anymore, and can't feel anything.

“They’ll kill me, I'm sure of it. That's what happens when you leave. And when they do, I better see you on the other side. A place where we can watch the sunset and have our little home. A place where this emptiness inside me can be whole again. I just want a place where I can love you.”

The glasses and letters go back into her purse. The flowers lay with her ribbon at the base as she stands and dusts off her dress.

She finally wipes her tears and forces a wonderful soft smile. “You were the most charming and wonderful man I have ever had the honor of working with. But most importantly, you were proof that dreams could come true.”

She touches the stone one last time. Feels the coolness but it's not as frightening. She's not afraid anymore. Blossom takes a step back and her eyes dance over his name one last time. She slips on her heels and grabs her purse.

“Goodbye my love.” She says and makes her way across the grass to the black gate.

​​✼　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　✼

I hope you enjoyed! 

[alakema]

ds Dreammare :Calm

Dreamswap belongs to onebizarrekai

Pre-apple incident, trans male Nightmare that didn’t come out yet.

Dream’s point of view:

It is way too calm to be normal. It’s already noon, and at this time of day, my little sister should be awake by now, causing a monstruous ruckus for everyone to hear. Only silence greets me. I frown, concern growing steadily inside of me. I go to her room, to see if she needs anything. She’s not there… Did she leave before I came back? But she is trustworthy enough to stick a message on the table. She knows I would worry about her otherwise. Maybe I accidentally overlooked it? As I step out of her room, I notice mine’s door is slightly ajar. Weird, I’m certain I closed it this morning. Cautious, I open the door completely. To see Nightmare in my bed, asleep. Okay, that was unexpected. Annoyed, I’m about to start a lecture about her laziness, about how she has her own bed, when a whimper stops me. ‘She’s having a nightmare.’

My sister toss and turn a few time, whimpering and shivering, and I don’t know how to feel about that; she never showed me this side of her. She hates showing weakness. I shake her a bit, hoping it will be enough. It isn’t: she still won’t wake up. My next attempt is a bit more forceful.

“AAAH!”

Is the only sound my little sibling can make before she falls to the floor. Satisfied with the result, I wait for her to notice me. When our eyes meet, she duck her head, before returning her sight on me and exclaiming :

“Yo! What are you doing here? -… What am I doing in my own room? - Fair point… The sunlight blinded me, so I decided your room was better.”

That’s an utter lie, my room has its shutter wide-open, and the sun is hitting full force. I make my disappointment over her lie clear. I try to pry the answer out of her, but she won’t budge and manage to weasel out of this. I’d like to know what happened to her, but I know forcing her to anything will only result in us fighting.

“*sigh*. I’ll prepare you a breakfast, get ready for the day.”

Or what’s left of it, I precise silently. Guess I won’t be back to the tree as soon as I wanted. The shelves are full, I wonder what I could make for her? An omelet, maybe. And bacon, too would be good for her health.

**

I tried to subtly ask again what the bad dream was about. She wouldn’t budge. As much as it is frustrating, it worries me she can’t find it in herself to tell me what’s wrong. Maybe something happened with the villagers. Again. No, the villagers would have told me if she did a prank or had done things she shouldn’t have. And Nighty is not as sneaky as she thinks she is; I would have noticed all the materials she would have tried to gather under my nose (and GOD can she be creative about that). Maybe they did something to her in retaliation?... No, that’s stupid, they might get angry at her, but they aren’t cruel. They would never get physical at her. Nightmare even admitted that she mistook her fall for a shove.

I just have to stay calm and be there for her when she’s ready. I’ll support her the best I can. After all, despite her pranks and her mischievous attitude, she’s my precious baby sister, and I’ll always be her big brother.

 Nightmare’s point of view:

Great. Just perfect. Dream found me during one of… Those times. I didn’t meant to worry him, honest ! I just… I didn’t think he would come home so soon: he has his ‘obligations’ to look after, and he’s so rigorous to be perfect to them that he would take his sweet ass time… I shouldn’t be in the way, or the villagers will make me pay. With how my body is healing right now, I can’t have a repeat of yesterday. It wouldn’t bode well for me. Especially if I have to keep that from my overbearing mother-hen of a brother. He may think he had been tactful, but trustfully, he can’t hide the pain in his eyes each time I stay silent about what the nightmare was about. It’s horrible what I’m doing to him, but he wouldn’t believe me if I said what happened. He never did before. If he were to discover I got hurt, he would force me to tell the ‘truth’, and I would be forced to lie because ‘the villagers didn’t do it Nightmare, you’re just trying to make them look bad in my eyes. You don’t know how utterly disappointed I am in you right now. Now, if you tell what really happened, you won’t be punished as much.’ Moron. What do I find in you, sometime I wonder.

We are back to the tree, together, but I can’t find it in myself to talk a mountain like I’m used to, or be annoying. I didn’t even climb the tree (Dream doesn’t need to know I actually can’t. My ankle is swollen and it’s a miracle I have hidden it this far). My older brother steals glances here and now. ‘Good luck buddy, I ain’t revealin’ anythin’.’ I love him, I really do. But I’m not blind to the favoritism he has toward the villagers over me. Toward anything over me.

“ Nightmare, I wanted to kno- - Please don’t. - What? - Please don’t talk. I just… Want to embrace this moment, just you and me.”

… Okay, what?! Why did I say that ? This doesn’t sound like me at all. Fuck. Oh shit. What do I do now? He’s gonna think I’m weird, and with what happened this morning -afternoon…whatever!- he’s not letting this go for a while. Great… Oh fuck my life. I turn my head away so that he won’t see my embarrassment.

“Is tha-… Are you sure? You can always go home if you don’t feel well. - I feel fantastic, thank you very much!”

**

We spend the rest of the day in quiet and calm. It’s been so long since the last time we were together for that much period of time. I can’t stop the smile on my face, and looking at Dream, he can’t either. I look at my room and my grin wither. Of course, my sibling noticed:

“Nightmare, is everything okay?”

I don’t say anything for a while, debating the best course of action.

“Dreamy, can I… No, it’s stupid, forget it. Good night!”

But before I can escape, he takes a hold of my wrist and turn me around. His eyes shine in the dark, and give a kind warm to our surrounding. He doesn’t speak, gathers me in his arms like a kitten before entering his room. He places me on the bed.

“Stay here, I’ll go get your pajamas. I’ll help with the nightmares, I promise.”

Once we are both ready for the night, he takes me in his arms again, before shielding us with a thick cover. My blush glows in the dark, and I’m thankful he closed his eyes. I never thought I would get to sleep next to my crush. He falls asleep before I do. My heart is racing against my ribcage, I don’t know how to make it silent. I look Dream inhaling slowly, not sure if I should go back to my room or not. But soon, I drift comfortably into a deep slumber.

After that, everything is peaceful, quiet and calm.

--

Next chapter : https://alakema.tumblr.com/post/646041076608729088/ds-dreammare-burn

[dishonestkilla]

Hate Me

This is a very short headcanon I thought of while listening to the song below.

TW: Angst, language, NSFW, 18+ content, mentions of violence, smut, toxic relationship, nasty smut it's nasty so read at ur ownnnnnnnn risk

Pairing: Drug Dealer!ReaderAU × Dabi

words: 3k

There was a thick silence in the dark alley where they stood. The only sound being the sound of tobacco burning on the other side of the cancer stick that was placed between her plush lips, the smoke she inhaled being freed the moment she breathed out, letting the toxins out towards his furious face.

Teal eyes burnt through her soul, shooting daggers at her. If a gaze could kill, she would've been long dead.

"So, that is all you are? A petty criminal?" The question was more rhetorical than something that actually needed to be asked. Dabi never knew what she actually did, hell, he now wanted to know if he ever actually was aware of who she was..But now, all that he could feel was a slice of anger blinding his sight.

"Yeah," She shrugged, still unfazed by his shaking figure and in one second, she could've sworn that a blue flame sparked on the surface of his scarred face but being the stubborn woman, the warning sign of his rage was ignored.

To her, his wrath was not justified nor was it plausible. This was her life, it had always been. Just because she let him spend a night here and there, caressed the side of his rough face, kissed his lips tenderly and loved him dearly, holding him close whenever she felt like breaking, it didn't mean that he could interfere in her business life.

"You have been lying to me all this time? Staged working at Kurogiri's bar for what? To get your hands on some filthy money?? Is that it? Money? Is that all you care for? Don't you think that our world has enough problems, wouldn't you like to be part of something that is actually worth a thing?" Dabi's voice raised slightly at the end, his hands flying up in dissatisfaction as he eyed her, but the sight he saw was anything but pleasant.

Her face had been contorted into a crooked smile, head tilted go the side just a little, orbs darker than usual. That grimace made him so mad, he could've sworn a vein in his neck popped from how tense he had become.

"Listen to yourself, acting all big and tough. Fucking hell," Y/N blurted, a big puff of smoke leaving her throat as she laughed out, "So what if I am not the Messiah. So what if I am not like you, a saint, a chosen one. I have been doing this ever since I left home, if you don't like it, you don't have to be going out with me." She continued, face turning serious, her orbs now igniting a new flame in themselves.

"You don't have to love me, if you don't want to accept me," her voice was barely audible when she said that but knowing Dabi, Y/N was sure he heard her.

"Why don't you let me help you then? Because I do love you, fuck, I love you so much, isn't it proof enough that I'd put myself as a villain at risk to be exposed to some junkie that would die to sell me to the police? Just to be able to he-" before the real eyed male could continue, he was interrupted, Y/N now also tensed up, lips quivering, she was mad and it was evident.

"I don't need your damn help, you bastard!" And in the next second, her hand had made contact with the surface of his face, leaving a red print behind.

"I owe you nothing and don't want to either," she hissed, jaw clenching, hands balled into fists as her gaze was now hunting him down.

"Owe me? Who in the fuck told you that in a relationship people owe each other things?!"

"Who in the fuck dated you, so that you know now?!" Her words weren't little knives into his hearts, no, it was like her ever so soft hands wrapped around the organ itself, crushing it inside of his chest. Just like that.

"You don't mean that," He whispered, now suddenly vulnerable, hurt and saddened.

"Yes, I do. I do, because you always claim to know everything, mess up my business, try to tell me what the fuck to do, and then dare to teach me on relationships. Reality check, Dabi. You're a villain, a burnt, brutal, scary villain. Nothing more." She yelled at this point. Tears welling up in her eyes, entire body shaking in frustration as her voice made it's way to the ears of the black haired man.

His lips were shaking, and now it wasn't only anger and sadness inside of his guts, it was something much worse.

Dabi wanted to wrap his hands around her throat and squeeze. Hard.

But no, not like one of the times where he had her against the wall, hips plowing into hers, one nipple between his fingers as she moaned loudly at his ministrations, head against the concrete. Not like those times where he let out his steam on her, ravaging her body, leaving purple marks on her satin alike skin that he had adorned with love bites moments before.

It wasn't one of the many moments in which she submitted to him with a mewl because of how roughly his digits burned her as a sign of affection alongside of his length caressing her velvety walls, bruising thrusts being the source for the nasty clapping and squelching noises that filled the room of the empty bathroom stall in some random club.

This was different, he wanted to cut her oxygen supply for good, watch as her face started to grimace, eyes rolling back as he took her life ever so slowly before burning her perfect body in his flames, feeling her warmth one last time before extinguishing her.

Without even noticing, he had moved forward, trapping her between the brick barricade behind her, caging her between his arms while holding her down with his own weight.

The way she looked at him caused a low growl to erupt his chest, a rush of heat running down his spine as he watched her with intent eyes.

Now, it was his turn to smirk twistedly at Y/N as the girl gulped. It wasn't like she was weak, the opposite, her quirk was one to be feared at least to say, after all, she could manipulate other people's nerves to bend at her own will, if she wanted to, she could cause him severe pain, but instead of that, she let him pin her down with his eyes. Despite of being powerful, she was fairly aware of Dabi's high pain tolerance as well as his immense strength. Y/N wasn't stupid enough to try and fight the male when she was intoxicated at that.

"Let me show you what you do to me.."

Before she could even protest, his lips had been attached to her sweet spot right below her right ear, a meal leaving her plump lips, melting at his touch and the way his calloused hands traveled the surface of her body. Arms now around his neck as she pulled him impossibly closer, causing Dabi to snicker against her throat while leaving wet kisses on her neck, marking her in his wake.

"Look at you, already a whimpering mess and I haven't even started yet," he rasped, now standing up straight again to meet her desperate gaze.

"Shut up," the girl retorted with sass, now it was her turn to tease him.

Lips colliding with his own, the taste of nicotine and whiskey flooding her senses, everything a blur and the reason on why they had started to banter long forgotten, the only thing mattering being their lust and desire for one another.

While his fingers tugged at the strands of her locks, her own had started to fumble with his belt, haphazardly ripping away the leather piece before she slid down the wall to kneel in front of his growing erection.

The heels of her shoes now meeting the wall as he had granted little space so she could do whatever she wanted to.

Soft pecks placing themselves against his restrained bulge before his hands wrapped themselves around her hair, making her look up at his gaze, "Get to it," he ordered and Y/N didn't have to be told twice before pulling his pants and boxers down to below his thighs, just enough to grant access to the angry tip of his cock, precum already leaking down the slit.

Experimentally she licked a stripe from his base to the tip, tasting his slightly pineapple flavoured release.

Yes, pineapple. She had forced him to eat the fruit regularly, if he wanted her lips around his length and his shaft down her throat.

One hand wrapped around him, thumb and index finger not able to touch, she started to jerk off the tall individual in front of herself, eyes focused on his leaking tip, paying attention to the area with kitten licks.

"Did you forget how to suck dick? Do I have to remind you?" He snapped at her, a sneaky smirk on his face.

Not wanting to play his petty game, the female let her head down till her nose met with his pubic bone, irises blown wide with lust at the sight of him groaning, his head lulled back at the immense pressure of feeling the walls of her throat inviting him.

Repeating the action a few times she then proceeded to suck down his erection with quick yet impactful bobbing motions, cheeks hollowing around him, practically milking him for whatever he was about to give her.

The two were fighting, they hated each other at times and probably had been at the verge of killing the other more than just once, however, they also knew each other more than anyone else did and not only physically but also emotionally. Now, the knowledge of one another's body and sweet spots were the advantage of their frankly scandalous little escapade in some dark alleyway where she had been dealing some of her 'happy pills' and 'devil's lettuce' the latter being what she was high on herself. The only difference being the passion and burning desire that fueled her intoxicated mind to wander even more. 'Test the waters and play with fire', as she liked to say.

One of his scarred hands darted out into her hair, nimble fingers digging in as he took a fist of her locks into his palm, pulling her head down his entire shaft, the intrusion causing a soft gag to escape her throat, eyes shooting up to meet his mischievous gaze upon her, the sight of his lazy smirk yet fiery orbs sending a jolt straight to her core.

He had regained control of what was going down, his hips now ramming into her mouth as if it was a fleshlight for him to abuse. The mere sight of how her pretty lips wrapped around his tip just to be parted more whilst he forced her down onto his length, the way she salivated all over him, drool now dribbling down onto her exposed cleavage that was peeking up from underneath the flimsy top she wore, her eyes slowly watering as she laid her hands on either side of his thick thighs. It was mesmerizing, if he could he would take a picture of it.

Finally satisfied with one last thrust into her sloppy cavern, the male didn't wait any longer before pulling her up to her wobbly legs, turning her around, he pushed her face into the wall behind herself, moving behind her as his lips latched onto her neck again, leaving bite marks here and there while his hands made quick work of her leather pants, pulling them down her thighs hastily, groaning at the sight of her lacy panties, "Seems like you've expected this, yeah? Getting fucked by no other than your man in a nasty alleyway." Making her sneer at him, she was quick to reply to his comment, "My man? Darling, you're not even a man in the first place!" That was it.

That was what caused his next moves to be crude and rougher than usual.

Pinning her arms behind her back as he bent her over against the wall, hips plowing into her, intruding her insides to spread for him, grunting as her wet, spongy walls clenched around him.

Without further do, he started to slam into her with slow, yet deep thrusts, the force of each thrust causing her entire body to jolt forward, pushing her against the wall even more.

His moves never faltered as he pulled out of her so merely his tip was coated in her juices, forcing his entire dick into her repeatedly before he set a steady pace of in and out.

Dabi was taking his time judging on how he dragged out the moment by changing between steady thrusts and reckless ramming.

One hand that supported her hips whilst she moaned and mewled at her insides being rearranged by him over and over, lifted, igniting a fire for a second before raining down onto each ass cheek of the girl in front of himself, leaving red hand prints that would stay for quite some time, marking her squeal at the force, the rough treatment being painful yet so pleasant that she couldn't help but moan out incoherent words as his hips sped up to an erratic pace, knocking the air out of her lungs.

"Yeah? What was that? Who isn't your man, huh? Say that again, I want to hear you say it." The way his voice seemed so unfazed caused her to roll back her hips like some sex-crazed animal, whimpering at the lack of treatment when he suddenly pulled out just to forcefully pull her flush against himself.

However, Y/N wasn't that fragile, with that being said, a smirk crept onto the female's flushed face, "Not you-" Her answer caused a low growl emit from the male, as he pulled her back by her hair, now back arched even more as he groaned against her ear, voice raspy, the hand that held her wrists wrapping around her throat, cutting the air supply of the girl, hips assaulting her again, the sound of skin slapping filling the quiet alley.

As her walls clenched yet again caused by him abusing her cunt for more than half an hour without letting her release, each time pulling out just to make sure she'd get the message of who was in charge. At this point she was shaking, her jaw slack while tears ran down her cheeks, staining her face.

"Come on, baby, tell everyone here who your man is and I will fuck you until you cum all over my cock, little slut," He could swear that he felt her grow even tighter around his length as he degraded her yet again.

"D-D-Dabi.." her voice was a mere whisper and not enough for the hot headed man, shaking his head as his hips came to a halt again. Denying her release all over.

"What, princess, I couldn't hear you and I bet no one else could either. Use your pretty brain if you want to cum."

Those words finally pulled her trigger as she started to beg the wanted villain, "H-hah~ Please, Dabi, I am yours, all yours and - you're my m-man, please make me cum.." She pleaded, voice desperate and in a hoarse tone.

Pleased with her begging, the black haired criminal picked up his recklessly rough pace again, one hand creeping to her front as he started to rub her clit in circles, and all of that combined to the low growl and grunts coming from him while biting her neck was enough to make white flash in her vision, body trembling as her release gushed out of her abused hole, screaming out his name.

Vigorously shaking in his arms as he worked her furthermore until he released his seed into her, painting her walls white whilst she milked him.

"I've got you, I've got you." The man cooed, caressing her body as he slowly let her calm down before pulling out of her, helping her redress as he pulled his pants up himself, watching her lean against the wall, hair tousled and mascara running down her eyes as he held out a hand, wiping away the black streaks lovingly, her head automatically leaning into his touch.

"I hate everything about you," she mumbled, making him chuckle, cocking an eyebrow at her as he watched her put a blunt between those lips of hers, lighting up the piece before inhaling the toxins inside of it, eyes rolling to the back of her head in comfort.

Moving forward he took the piece from her, he grabbed her jaw after she took another big hit, kissing her softly, tongues and smoke mixing together before he took her hand and lead her to his nearby apartment, with her just strolling after him like a lost puppy just to be cuddled up on his chest moments later upon her arrival in his shabby little space, arms around him while smoking yet another blunt.

Looking up at his turquoise eyes that held so many unreadable emotions, she let out a huff, pouting at him before laying her cheek flat against the surface of his sternum again.

"I didn't mean that," She slowly admitted, looking up to see him smirk a little, man if she could've just punched him. Well, she could..But shouldn't..Unless..

"I know that you were just Dic-"

"Don't say it, I swear to god, do not say it!"

"Dickrived,"

"Ugh! you're such a dork."

Both laughed at the silly comment Dabi made proudly, his entire chest puffing up before he embraced her with his arms, "Am I really such a monster?" He suddenly asked before she unexpectedly kissed his lips with passion, in an attempt to quiet him down.

"Shush, no you aren't. And even if you were.. You are my monster." Those were the last few words he heard before they both drifted off to sleep, never knowing what would expect them next.

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

A/N: This took longer than I thought, phew. Hope y'all thirsty ones liked it hehe.

[angstyaches]

“Someone shyly asking, “Could you rub my tummy?” while groaning with pain because who doesn’t love that?” This scenario for Felix and Elliot please. With Fee being the sickee

Here it is! It was supposed to be a drabble, but in true Flick fashion I could just Not Stop. I might even write a part two about the car ride back to the townhouse (if I feel like it / if anyone expresses an interest). Also, I can’t believe I’ve written like ten sickfics for my vampire boys but in not one of them (?!) have they actually been sick because of drinking blood?!

CW: blood, slaughter of an animal, vampires drinking blood, spice (?!), nausea, drowsiness

___

Felix’s stomach felt like it was being pinched from the inside, caught in the grasp of something with claws that wanted to drag it right out of his body. It was impossible to tell anymore whether the discomfort was from nausea or prolonged thirst, because the former almost always accompanied the latter. He’d have pressed his hands to his belly if they’d been free, but they were working on another ache.

His fingertips were pressing into his face, just above the edges of his lips. He let out a low groan as he tried to massage away the throbbing pain that had gone from dull to distracting in the space of a few minutes. Pressure piled up on the roots of his upper canines, and to a lesser extent, his lower ones.

Ryan stood up from where she’d been crouched, feeding, and looked over her shoulder, rubbing at the red stain smeared across her pale white cheek. Her sleeve was white too, and as the blood soaked into it, Felix could already hear Nancy yelling about it as soon as they got back home.

“You should have a wee drop,” Ryan said smoothly. Her eyes were golden yellow and practically glowing after the hunt and the kill and the blood. It was always about the blood, wasn’t it? Her white hair looked brighter out here in nature too; back in the townhouse, it just matched the walls. “Just to tide you over.”

Felix looked down at his feet, getting momentarily distracted by his hands, which were trembling horribly by his sides. The ache in his belly was increasing from the sight and the sound and, indeed, the smell of feeding. The pressure building up in his gums was growing more and more intense, and it almost felt like his fangs were jabbing upwards, scraping at the bones below his eyes and making them water.

He knew he could refuse if he wanted to, and Ryan wouldn’t say another word about it, but he did need to drink, and it would be a while until he could get his hands on anything other than blood in its rawest form; warm and straight from the vein. Ryan knew he didn’t like it, so she would never suggest it if she didn’t think it was the best thing for him.

Fingers pressing even more deeply against his gums, he slowly approached the beast that had been breathing minutes before but wasn’t anymore, trying his best not to look it in the eye. He sank to his knees beside Elliott, whose back was so hunched over it looked like his spine had been bent in half. He was slurping and sucking at a wound he’d opened in the creature’s neck.

He didn’t notice Felix sit down next to him, not until Felix reached out to touch his leg, automatically seeking physical contact. He was nervous, and he was in pain, and Elliott understood him better than anyone he’d ever met. He didn’t stop to consider the fact that Elliott was currently a hundred miles away, in feeding mode, and probably could have turned and ripped his arm off without hesitation.

But when Elliott’s head snapped around, all he gave was a sound that was halfway between a snarl and a question. Hmmph? His eyes were practically blazing gold, his lips were furled back over sharp fangs, and his teeth and chin were painted brightly with blood. Spatters of it dotted his face and had gotten into the strands of hair he liked to wear by his face.

Felix, trembling and clean in comparison, couldn’t tell if the sight of his boyfriend giving in to his bloodlust like this was terrifying or beautiful. Either way, he didn’t flinch or move, besides the violent quivering that suddenly set into his lower lip.

The hungry look in Elliott’s eyes softened slightly, and his fangs began to ease back from over his lower lip. He unclenched one hand from the dead beast’s neck and laid it on the hand Felix had put on his leg.

The eye contact didn’t break until Elliott had leaned in close enough for their lips to press together.

Felix inhaled sharply, the sweet, metallic smell of the blood on Elliott’s face already making him dizzy with lust. The pressure inside his skull shifted, almost like a cork had popped deep inside his gums, and he felt his fangs beginning to contract and lengthen.

He let Elliott pry his mouth open for a deeper kiss, tasting blood on his tongue until he didn’t anymore. Their teeth clashed, and there was a trickle of blood that wasn’t animal blood, but Felix didn’t know if it was Elliott’s or his own. Either way, it didn’t put him off.

He needed more. He sat up higher on his knees and sucked the animal’s blood from around Elliott’s lips, barely aware of the low, desperate noises rising in his throat as his body demanded more –

“Whoa, hey – here,” Elliott half-laughed, leaning back and pulling Felix with him, so that the younger boy could drop against the open wound in the animal. Felix sank his teeth into the beast’s still-warm flesh, gasping and drawing in mouthfuls of liquid.

It tasted unbelievably sweet, almost unbearably so, and once he started, it felt like he would never want to stop. His body seemed to ripple with instinct and pleasure and relief. His stomach grew warm and heavy. He didn’t stop until his lungs ran out of air and he began to see stars. He ripped his teeth free and scrambled back on the forest floor, gasping. Elliott put a hand to his back to stop him from toppling over.

“Jesus, that was…” Elliott’s voice was close to a growl. “So fucking hot.”

Felix gave a shuddering sigh. Elliott was a lot more present and coherent now, it seemed. He was grinning breathlessly, jerking his shoulders slightly like he did when he had excess energy. “Are you okay, boo?”

Felix glanced down at himself and gave a shuddering sigh at the sight of his second-favourite skinny jeans and third-favourite green sweater patched with blood.

“I’ve got blood all over me,” he mumbled unhappily.

Elliott laughed at that, but Felix barely reacted. He felt like his brain was hovering somewhere outside his body; his eyes too, so that he was staring at himself in horror. The only thing that brought him back to reality was the loud gurgle that came from deep inside his body, a thing that he both heard and felt.

“Oh, gosh,” Felix gasped, folding his arms gently over his belly and leaning forward.

“Fee?” Elliott asked, leaning in a little closer. “Does it hurt? It probably shouldn’t hurt. Hey, Ryan, is he okay?”

Ryan appeared in front of them, dropping to a squat and lowering her head to get a look at Felix’s face. “Felix, are you going to vomit?”

Am I going to vomit? he asked himself very sincerely. No. Or, at least, he didn’t want to. An animal had lost its life, and he’d taken its blood, and that meant something; it meant he had to hold onto it.

Felix slowly shook his head, gulping hard and wishing he had something to rinse his mouth out with.

“Probably just drank too much too fast,” Ryan mused.

Elliott gently helped him to his feet, but as he stood, it felt like the contents of his belly were still down on the ground somewhere, dragging and weighing him down. He had no idea how Ryan sprang so delicately to her feet, like a pixie on puppet strings. He had no idea how Elliott looked so beautiful when he was such a mess.

He didn’t know anything except for one fact; his stomach was starting to ache. A lot.

He winced as he felt something shift in his gut, but instead of a gurgle, this was a deep, clenching rumble that made his knees feel a little weak. He pulled away from the hug so he could put his hands on his belly. He stared down at it as it cramped again, imagining his organs weren’t quite sure what to do with this amount of blood when he’d only ever consumed a fraction of that amount in the past.

His throat tickled with panic, and a different kind of pressure was building around his eyes.

Elliott hovered a few feet back, like he still didn’t trust Felix not to going to puke all over him. Not that it would have mattered, since he was already soaked in blood.

“You keeping it down, boo?”

“I – I hope…” Felix said weakly.

“I’m a bad influence, aren’t I?”

Felix grimaced through the faint sting of tears. Considering that Elliott was the reason he was half-vampire in the first place, he’d have said that was an understatement. He didn’t say it though, because his stomach and his jaw both clenched in unison, and all he could let out was a strangled whimper.

“Oh, boo,” Elliott sighed, finally coming close again so he could tuck some of Felix’s bangs behind his ear. The tips of his fingers were so gentle against the side of his neck that he shivered and sank his head against his chest again, desperate to be held and comforted.

“You can take it easy for a few more minutes while I’m working here,” Ryan said. She was still licking subconsciously at her lips as she readied the syringe that she used to take blood home for future use. “Then we’re going to have to get a move-on back towards the car, before it gets dark.”

“Mmhmm,” Felix said, nodding weakly against Elliott’s ribcage.

Ryan turned her back and crouched by the dead animal. With his head lowered and with Elliott blocking his view, Felix didn’t see her work after that, but he reckoned she was concentrating enough not to be paying attention to him anymore.

“Elli, darling?” he asked in a small voice.

Elliott touched the back of his head. “Yes, gorgeous?”

“Could you rub my tummy?”

Without another word or a single beat of a pause, Elliott ran his hands down over Felix’s shoulders. His touch lingered along his waist for a second, fingertips careful despite knowing every slight curve in his body like a map he’d studied for decades. He brushed the palm of his hand gently over Felix’s stomach, pausing as he felt the pressure just below his ribs, trying to assess how much pressure would be too much.

He got his answer not too long after, as Felix whimpered again, tensing a hand around Elliott’s elbow.

“Sorry,” Elliott murmured softly, smoothing his hand down over the tight, achy spot and kissing the top of Felix’s head again.

The smaller boy just continued groaning and whining in discomfort. He felt his face flush slightly as his belly bubbled under Elliott’s hand, its contents sloshing unbearably into his oesophagus. Something pinched at the bottom of his ribs and inched its way upwards, and Felix opened his mouth, covering it quickly.

He barely lifted his head as Ryan came back over and stood in front of them, stowing her syringe in her bag.

“Boys,” she said shortly, glancing back and forth between the two of them.

Felix began to straighten up, turning in Ryan’s direction. Along with the pressure leaning down on his internal organs, his bones and muscles were beginning to respond more slowly to his commands, and there was a fuzzy feeling in his head that told him he would be asleep as soon as he was out of the forest.

He felt Elliott keep his hand pressed to his stomach and step around behind him, pulling his back against his chest. Elliott was so much taller than Felix that he had no qualms about letting him take his full weight, and his skin tingled in relief.

Ryan looked at them blankly. “This display is not very dignified.”

“Your face isn’t very dignified,” Elliott murmured with a smirk, now smoothing both hands delicately over Felix’s belly. He could practically feel the heavy liquid sloshing around under his hand, and could only imagine how uncomfortable his poor boyfriend must have been. If the groans he couldn’t manage to suppress were anything to go by, it was quite a bit.

Ryan’s eyes flicked about lazily, not quite reaching the level of rolling. Most people would be too afraid to insult her, even in jest, but Elliott knew she simply viewed that kind of thing as beneath her, and wouldn’t rise to it.

“Love you,” Elliott offered by way of apology, letting his smirk soften into a warmer smile. “Your face is very nice.”

Ryan blinked and began to walk in the direction they’d come from, jabbing Elliott gently in the shoulder with a long, black fingernail as she passed him.

“You can both sit in the back if you’re going to continue with this,” she said, “otherwise I’m going to be losing my well-earned lunch.”

“What do you think, boo?” Elliott asked gently, leaning down towards Felix’s ear. He worked his hand back and forth across the swell of his belly, careful as ever not to jostle it too much. “Are we going to continue?”

It took a few seconds for Felix to register the question and mumble a reply because it seemed as though that post-feeding sleep was creeping in on him much more quickly than he thought.

[alittlewhump]

Unbidden - Act 4, chapter 6

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Content warnings: recounting past trauma

Blaise and Tyrael were still gone. Apparently the destruction of this soulstone was more complicated somehow. Morgan had moved from the work bench to one of the cots in the next room, propped up by pillows in a way that didn't trouble his injury too much, practically swimming in a light cotton tunic that Halbu had provided to replace his own ruined shirt. He was still feeling a little unsteady from the whole ordeal - not the battle, which had gone surprisingly well. What had happened afterward was what troubled him. The nightmares were one thing, to be expected. He barely even remembered having them sometimes. But to be pulled into one while waking was something else entirely, and it was concerning. He was trying to believe it was just a side effect of Diablo's influence. That was the most likely explanation, but he couldn't shake the nagging doubt. What if it wasn't? What if it could happen again at any time? He would have to pursue additional training, just to be sure of himself. Priests had to hold themselves to higher standards than what he'd been achieving recently.

Halbu had begun working on a new armour piece for him. A brigandine this time, more flexible and puncture-resistant than the leather cuirass had been, but likely to be heavier. He'd insisted, despite Morgan's protests, and was whistling as he worked. The whistling and the hammering echoed through the fortress, breathing a sense of life into the otherwise still halls. Morgan supposed Halbu had good enough reason to be cheerful, given their victory over Diablo. Cain was busying himself with a small pile of books he'd borrowed from Jamella's collection while she processed some ingredients with a mortar and pestle at an auxiliary work table. She seemed annoyed to be working in this atypical setup, given that the bulk of her equipment was in the other room, but she was insistent about keeping an eye on Morgan.

She had been glancing over at him frequently, frowning. Something seemed to be bothering her. She finally broke her silence when she caught him looking back. "I didn't expect you to have such a resistance to my potion," she said. He still appreciated her straightforwardness, though he didn't care much for the direction of the conversation. "I've never seen it have so little effect. How exactly did your tolerance get so high?"

Morgan didn't really want to talk about it, but she was an emissary of the Light. He was duty-bound to assist her in every way possible, at least while the Balance was still compromised. And Baal was still unaccounted for.

"I was tortured. By a sect of claw vipers. Acolytes of Duriel."

"Oh? Kindly elaborate."

"They pushed me to the brink of death, then pulled me back with healing potion to do it again." Morgan hoped that level of detail would suffice. It was not at all pleasant to reflect on, especially not after whatever that lapse had been. "Based on the taste, I would guess their formulation was very close to yours."

"You don't build a tolerance like that from a little torture. Have you ever used it recreationally, outside of that experience? Afterwards, perhaps? It's not uncommon. I'm not here to pass judgment, I just want to know. So I can treat other champions accordingly if they have a similar issue."

"No, never like that." He couldn't imagine ever wanting to consume it on purpose. He'd already explained that the tolerance had been caused by - oh, perhaps he hadn't been quite explicit enough. "It was dozens. Of times. Not just the once."

Jamella's eyebrows lifted in surprise. "Really? Dozens."

Morgan rubbed his face. He wished this conversation could be over, but he couldn't just end it. In case future champions should have a similar issue. He hoped, for their sake, they did not.

"Yes. You've seen the state of my skin. The scarring is all from that experience."

"Two dozen? More?"

"More. I was not keeping a precise tally," he added, hoping to stem this particular branch of inquiry. He wanted to think about anything else.

Jamella gave him a cool stare. "Why so much? I know Duriel's chosen find torture to be entertaining, but that seems excessive even for them."

Morgan laced his fingers together in his lap. "Blaise and I fought Andariel, before that. I was injured during that battle, and it never fully healed. They were... fascinated by that injury."

"You were marked by Andariel? Well, that would explain it. Her surviving victims experience a permanent amplification of pain that would make you an attractive target for her brother's flock." Jamella tipped her head thoughtfully. "Her venom is physically aggressive as well - that's what was wrong with your arm, isn't it? The damage you mentioned you couldn't repair?"

Morgan nodded, the heat of embarrassment creeping up his neck. He'd been able to avoid discussing the lingering effects of Andariel's venom until now, but of course Jamella would be knowledgeable in these things. It was a small mercy Blaise wasn't there to hear him admit just how weak he really was, how he struggled constantly next to her effortless strength.

"I see. And how much of their potion did they give you at a time?"

"For the first... while, it was, ah. Just. Cupfuls." The words weren't coming easily. "Less than... what you gave me earlier. About a ghyll. I think."

"They worked up to larger amounts, then?"

"No, not... worked up." Morgan ran a hand through his hair. Why was this so difficult? It was just something that had happened, a set of facts he could relay. "I tried to... refuse. The potion. After a time. They... began drowning me in it, then. To prevent that." Tears blurred his vision. He wiped at his eyes, frustrated. It wasn't always easy to manage his emotions, but it was usually easier than this. "I don't know how many, how much-" The lump in his throat prevented him from saying any more.

Jamella opened her mouth to continue her questioning, but Cain had come over to lay a hand on her shoulder. "I think that's enough for now. We aren't going anywhere, are we?" He smiled disarmingly. She grunted, turning back to her work. Cain approached Morgan, seating himself by the bedside. Morgan avoided the other man's gaze. He hated losing his composure like this. It was bad enough being so physically feeble, he didn't need anyone to witness his emotional weakness on top of it. Some of the most basic training for priests of Rathma was for emotional control, and he just couldn't stop failing at it. At least he would have time to revisit that training yet again as he waited for his body to heal.

"You've been through quite a lot, young man." Cain's voice was reassuring, kindly. It didn't help. Morgan wasn't looking for sympathy or pity, he just wanted to be able to close the wounds in his mind. Talking about them, even just thinking about them, only served to pick at the scabs.

"We all have," he replied. The deflection was almost automatic. "The first thing I did when we met was to bury seven of your friends."

"I still think perhaps you've suffered the worst out of us, my friend."

"Personal suffering is inconsequential in service to the Balance," Morgan recited. Of course the suffering of others should be minimized where possible, but priests of Rathma had to hold themselves to a different standard. All this time, and he still couldn't do his Order justice. It was pathetic.

"Ah, is that why you rarely speak of what troubles you? I don't believe I've heard you complain even once since we began traveling together."

Morgan looked over at Cain. The old man's face was somehow both concerned and blandly interested, no indication that he was judging or mocking. Morgan looked away again. "I prefer not to dwell on those things," he said carefully. There was no need to bother anyone else with his... difficulties. What if they found it to be too much trouble to deal with? No, he absolutely could not take that risk.

That was the thing Diablo had discovered when he'd reached into his mind to pluck out his deepest fear. What the demon ought to have found was the tipping of the Balance, the destruction that would be done to humanity by either side seizing control, the thing his Order was charged with preventing. And that would be a terrible thing, to be sure, but it was not what Diablo had scented out as his worst fear. No, the demon lord had pried out something much smaller, more personal. What he had unearthed was the idea - the knowledge - that these friendships Morgan had managed to cultivate somehow, so rare and precious, could easily be destroyed if he were to say or do the wrong thing at the wrong time. The thought was unbearable, the danger ever-present. He knew in his heart that he was a burden, so he had to make that burden as light as possible for them to bear.

"Some burdens," Cain said as though reading his thoughts, "are easier to carry when their weight is shared."

"It is not easy to bear the weight of another. I can carry my own well enough."

"So you can, friend. So you can. Just remember, you don't always have to."

He was wrong, of course, but the sentiment was well-intentioned. "Thank you." Morgan waited a beat to see if Cain would say anything further on the matter. He did not, which meant it was time to change the subject. "What is it you've been studying?"

Cain brightened. "What do you know of the crusaders of Zakarum?"

"Little enough. They call themselves Paladins, do they not?"

"Ah, yes, actually, they are two distinctly different orders sprung from the same root." Cain spoke at length of the differences and similarities between the two sects, and Morgan did his best to pay attention. But soon enough he found his eyelids growing heavy, and Cain very kindly helped him back into a more horizontal position. Exhaustion caught up with him quickly, and he slept.

[gh0stiegirlie]

synopsis: all it took was one glance at the hotheaded boy at the U.A. exam, and you were smitten. for deku, it was a single act of kindness that instigated his immediate attraction to uraraka. several months into school, best friends y/n and deku are left heartbroken when. uraraka and bakugou start a relationship. when you and deku find yourselves confiding in each other, a question arises; is this love, or loneliness? are you two better just as friends?

length: 3.5k words

                                                                                                      pt. 2  ->

a/n: that moment when you start a new bakugou series in the middle of another bakugou series 🤡 I hope you enjoy the result of procrastinating on my other story and writing a little too much.

It all started the day of U.A.’s practical exam. 

You were pushing your fingers down on every tender joint you could pop, loosening your body as much as possible for the physically strenuous activity ahead. When you bent over into the downward dog position, through your legs disheveled blond hair caught your eye. His hair was so spiky if you pricked your finger on a strand, it would draw blood. You stretched out your back before crawling your arms up your body until you were standing, then turned to examine the boy.

It looked like someone had glued a golden porcupine on his head, a hairstyle that on the majority would look hideous. But the way his bouncing spikes threatened to poke anyone who came too close as he stomped around, made it suit him. When you lowered your eyes to the rest of his body, that was when you discovered this pomeranian boy was not only super hot, but super fit. His tight black tank top hugged his upper body, and his shoulders and biceps alone were so bulky it looked like the straps may snap. Along with that, the flimsy top did nothing to hide his abs from the imagination. He had developed muscles in places you never knew muscles existed. 

As you were not-so-subtly checking this guy out while pretending to stretch, another contender approached the boy. She was stereotypically hot, with full features and an unattainable sinched waist. A flare of jealousy hit you like a wave of heat, and you nearly used your quirk to warn the girl to back the fuck off. This feeling immediately dissipated when he aimed his hand at the girl and dismissed her... with a fucking explosion. Within seconds, she was in a dazed heap on the other side of the warm-up room with some minor burns. The whole room fell silent, turning to the boy with petrified expressions. He nonchalantly shoved his hand in his pocket, leaned on one leg, and clenched his jaw. Although his posture was shit and his pants were sagging, you could tell he wasn’t a fool.

“Now, if any of you other extra’s feel like messing with me,”  his vermillion scanned the crowd for someone attentive and vulnerable, and they eventually fixed on you with a smirk, “don’t.” 

 He made your knees weak with one word.

 That’s when you started falling.

When you discovered you were in the same class as Bakugou, you were ecstatic. Back then, your crush was a minuscule weed in your garden. It sat among the fully grown flowers of your aspirations, completely harmless.

You’re now halfway through your first semester at U.A., and your crush on Bakugou has fully blossomed. Whether it’s grown into the weed or a rose, you’re unsure. All you know is your love weed is now the size of a goddamn oak tree, and for it to grow to this extent, it has pushed the rest of your garden out of the way. 

You spend half of your Math class stealing subtle glances at Bakugou, watching him repeat the teachers' lessons to himself in hushed mumbles as he writes down every word in his notebook. He has a habit of vehemently taking notes to the point of dulling out his pencil, groaning when he has to shove it into his pencil sharpener (he used to use the schools, but he grew too irritated of leaving his seat every few minutes), only for his poor pencil to require another sharpening moments later. Following Math is English, and during this class you enjoy gazing out the windows to daydream. Your English classroom was built with large oblong windows that stretch from the floor to the ceiling to reveal the grand U.A. courtyard below and you tend to use it to study the upperclassmen. You watch the class of 2-A enjoy their lunch hour as they walk, eat, and hold hands around campus. Sometimes you imagine them as you and Bakugou. You think about holding his hand while dancing around the cherry trees, eating lunch with him and his ‘Bakusquad’ and much, much more.

Love is a strong word, and you’re hesitant to label your feelings accordingly. But damn, are your feelings strong for this boy.

Deku can say the same about Uraraka. He literally fell for her on the way to the practical exam. And even though she caught him, he’s continued falling ever since.

Everytime Uraraka spars during training, Deku gives her his undivided attention. Not because he’s a perv or anything-- he just admires her so much. Her quirk requires her resourceful and thoughtful, so she always has a brilliant plan up her sleeve. His favorite part about her battles is the way she smiles when she knows she’s won. It’s never a smile of egotistical pride; It’s a smile that displays she’s satisfied with herself. That she acknowledges she’s victorious, not because “she’s the best”, but because she worked for it. He can never hold back from beaming himself. When someone that cute smiles, how can you resist?

But, there is a difference between you two. Deku holds the advantage of being friends with Uraraka; You simply adore Bakugou from a distance, while everyone else hates him from that distance.

Until one day, Aizawa mentions the first-semester partner project. You already know Izuku is going to choose Uraraka, and you know Iiada wouldn't be caught dead partnering with you (even though the class calls you the 'golden girl', you're still a bit too 'rebellious' for his taste.) From the way Kaminarai and Kirishima smirk at eachother, you're pleased to see they're going to pair up, because this leaves Bakugou with no partner. A spot you would love to fill.

After class you don't rush to make it to Bakugou, knowing no one else wants to be his partner after what happened between him and Kirishima (Lots of Bakugou yelling how “shitty hair is an idiot!” and using textbooks as a weapon to smack Kirishima’s head). But you wouldn't mind. You would be happy just to be his idiot.

You're snapped out of your daydreams when Uraraka spontaneously approaches Bakugou. You smirk and lean against your desk, expecting a hilarious interaction that starts with a heated “GET AWAY FROM ME WEIRD GIRL!!” and ends with a very large explosion. I mean, at the sports festival, not only could he not connect her name with her face, he had absolutely no fucking clue who she was! But instead of blowing her away in a fit of rage, as he did with that girl so many months ago, they talk.

You and Deku never discussed your feelings for those two with each other, but you acknowledged them. You being his closest friend, it’s clear as fucking day that Deku is head over heels for Uraraka. And being your best friend, it’s obvious to Deku that you want to smash faces with the class hothead. 

So, naturally, as the two of you watch this interaction unfold, there’s a mutual feeling of disgust. An unspoken what the fuck?! is exchanged between your eyes, until Deku’s lip quivers and he quickly looks away while you glare daggers into Uraraka’s stupidly hot body. After a few infuriating minutes, it’s grossly clear their conversation isn’t concluding anytime soon. You’re repulsed as you ask Deku to be your partner, to which he responds with a meek head nod. You sigh and hug the poor boy. Surprisingly Deku doesn’t start crying blood when you, a girl, touches him. Instead, he nuzzles his head deep into your neck, as by now he’s comfortable with your friendship.

"Hey, do you wanna go out for ice cream?" you ask when you pull away. You nudge him with your elbow. "I'll pay!"

Izuku blinks away his tears as he agrees, desperately trying to block the waterworks from leaking. 

"Cmon, Zuzu." you coo, exiting the classroom. Before you and Izuku head to the dining hall, you shoot a quick glare at Uraraka, who is purposely shoving her tits out in Bakugou's face as she laughs at whatever he just said. At least you know he's better than to fall for that... Hopefully.

"One Yukimi Daifuku and one chocolate Sofuto Kurimu, please," you ask the cafe cashier. She mumbles the amount you owe, and you shuffle your hand around the change in your pocket before handing her a few dollars. 

When you bring Izuku his icecream, he lifts his head off the table. He plays around with his food for a while before sloppily shoving a scoop in his mouth. You moan when you take your first bite.

"I swear, this ice cream is top tier!" you boom in enthusiasm. "Like, seriously, who allowed cafeteria food to be this good?!"

A short chuckle escapes Izuku's frowning lips. "That's U.A. for ya. The food somehow gets better every day."

"I know, right!" You use your spoon to point at Izuku's Yukimi Daifuku. "I feel like they handpicked that rice in your Yukimi from U.A.'s personal rice fields." you joke, which finally breaks Izuku's drab demeanor. He lets out a genuine laugh.

"I don't think U.A. has it's own rice fields." he rationalizes. The knot in his stomach loosens every time you make him laugh, allowing his appetite to grow. He takes a few eager bites of his Yukimi Daifuku. You playfully punch Izuku's shoulder.

"Really? This place is so fucking big I wouldn't be surprised if it had its own strip club or someth-MFF!" Izuku cuts you off by slapping a hand over your mouth. He pulls it back to his and signs "shh".

"Y-Y/n! Be quiet!" he warns, his face dark red from stifling his laughter. 

"What?! You don't want to think about All Might gettin--" you stop here, because Izuku has buried his face in his hands in order to ignore you. You laugh. "Okay, okay Deku. I'll stop." You ruffle his hair platonically.

"Thanks. I was afraid I was going to throw up my Yukimi if you kept going." he expresses, to which you laugh again. There's a fleeting pause as the two of you take a moment to appreciate each other's presence. Maybe all you really need is each other. 

Maybe, as long as you're just friends, everything will be okay.

"Thanks, Y/n. I needed this." Izuku smiles, and you can't help but smile with him.

One week later, the project is due and the weird partnership between Uraraka and Bakugou remains unmentioned between the three of you and Iiada. You’ve wanted to discuss it with her, but Izuku keeps holding you back. So the four of you engage in breakfast per usual; laughing, talking, and stuffing your faces. By this time, you assume Uraraka has forgotten about her little stunt. But it remains at the forefront of your mind, because what the fuck?! 

Deku believes it to be a momentary lapse in judgment, but you know girls better than that. She had been plotting that move for a while. Uraraka probably spent weeks building up her self-esteem enough to talk to him, and then another few days encouraging herself to actually do it. 

So, when Uraraka skips over to Bakugou that day, you’re not surprised. But, what she does next shocks you.

Uraraka kisses Baugous cheek.

You wait expectantly for Bakugou to send her flying out a window. Instead, he smirks and wraps his burly arm around her thin waist. Her waist is so thin, his arm fits around it like a bracelet. How can you even compete with that?!

And then, they walk out of the classroom. Just like that. Like a fucking couple.

That’s when the world crumbles around you.

Friday nights are always the days you and Bakugou attend the gym at the same time. Normally, his presence is a positive motivation to work harder, knowing he can look over at you at any moment. 

Tonight, you bury your eyes into the back of his head and pretend he's the punching bag. You restrain yourself from using your quirk to explode his brain (you actually can’t do that, but still), as if he even has one. If he’s dating Uraraka, he must not. You understand she’s cute or whatever, but they’re so fucking different. 

Apparently, this past hour you were hitting the punching bag vigorously enough in precisely the right places for it to tear. Sand pours onto your feet, and that's when you decide to call it night.

You manage bottle most of your emotions until you’re alone in your room. That’s when you shut off your lights, put on your sad vibes playlist, shelter yourself in fleece blankets and let the tears flow. Your shaking shoulders churn your stomach, and it feels like you’re vomiting out your emotions. Your heart stings with every beat, and every sob irritates your raw throat. You're not just another teenage girl crying over a stupid boy. You've grown up putting all your energy into improving your quirk, always two steps ahead of the rest of your class’ mentality. When you first saw Bakugou, you saw someone whos grown up always giving everything his all. You saw someone like you, and you fixated on something that wasn't just being a hero. 

At this point you've been fighting for Bakugou for so long, he's grown beyond a dumb crush. Now that you've lost this battle, you realize how alone you feel.  He’s a motivation. Not only do you train hard to improve your quirk, but you train hard to surprise Bakugou with your strength. You don't just study for good marks, but to impress Bakugou. 

Your goal to be a hero has always occupied your whole heart, but Bakugou managed to slip in there somewhere.

And you can feel the hollowness of his gaping hole.

Eventually, you compose yourself enough to grab some Suppa-Mucho Premium Ponzu, a jar of Nutella (with a spoon to eat it out of, of course), and a cup of hot chocolate from the kitchen.

On the way back to your room, you hear sobs emitting from a nearby hall. As you follow the twists and turns of the dorm, the cry grows familiar. You soon find yourself standing outside Izuku Midoriyas' room. You quickly (but carefully) run to the kitchen to microwave another cup of hot chocolate before knocking on his bedroom door. 

“Duh-Don’t come in!” his voice is nasally, but he lowers it an octave to sound like his usually preppy self. Although hero-training teaches you students how to put on an emotional mask, you’re able to tell when your best friend is faking. 

“It’s me, Izuku.” 

“Come in,” his raspy reply is barely above a whisper.

You jiggle the door handle open with your elbow and find Izuku wrapped in a blanket of feelings, like you were earlier. He wipes the tears off his cheeks and rubs his eyes, burying his head deep into the blanket to hide his sadness. Though his loud, shaky breaths give away the fact he was crying. Like you couldn’t hear him from across the dorms.

“Hey. It’s okay, Zuzu.” You’re standing behind the door, presenting snacks and two drinks with a somber smile. “I’m here.”

Izuku lifts his head when he smells the steaming hot cocoa. He grabs the drink that has whip cream with tiny marshmallows and flakes of caramel sprinkled on top, just the way he likes it. You set down the snacks on a nearby coffee table, then drink your hot chocolate beside him. When a sip leaves a small white mustache above his upper lip, you can’t help but giggle. He does the same.

You don’t ask why he was crying, and he doesn’t ask why you were walking around with comfort food late at night. Instead, you enjoy each other’s company. The events of earlier today have made you realize that things will always be the way they’ve been since the start of this year. That you’ll only ever have each other. 

 And maybe that’s why what happens next… Happens.

You are wrapped up in a blanket next to Izuku watching Whisper of the Heart and munching on a bowl of chips. Like some sort of cliche, the two of you reach for a chip at the same time. Izuku immediately pulls away, an incoherent apology spilling from his lips. You ignore it, overwhelmed with a sudden bubble of emotion. It was only extreme for a brief moment, but the remnants of the feeling linger. The electricity he transferred to you keeps your fingers twitching as you grab a snack. So now you’re pondering over the feeling while nibbling on a chip;

 How come, when Izukus hand brushed against yours, you felt something?

Everytime you’re near Bakugou, your heart palpitates. Not only out of fear-- because the man is fucking terrifying --but of recognition of his power. Out of admiration of his intimidating, yet confident personality.

When you touched Izuku’s hand, your heart fluttered. A cocoon of butterflies erupted in your chest and tried to lift you off his bed-- but why? 

Was it because now that Bakugous out of the way, your true scandalous feelings for your best friend are no long eclipsed? Or is it because now that Bakugou is out of the way your brain needs a new hot boy with biceps to focus on?

Izuku questions the same thing himself. If you took a second to look, the light of the TV would reveal the blush on his cheeks. His hands tremble in his lap as he hopelessly attempts to cover the growing boner in his pants, a side effect of thinking about you in this new romantic light.

All this time, has he been love with you, not Uraraka? Or has her sudden abandonment left a vacancy that needs filling, so he’s turning to his best friend? 

You move the bowl and scoot next to Deku. Your body heats up as his tenses. 

“Hey, do you wanna share a blanket?” You ask, forcing yourself to sound as casual as possible. Even though trying to flirt with your best friend is way out of your comfort zone.

“Uh--sure!” Deku squeaks as he wraps his blanket around your shoulders and you throw your fleece over your laps. You arrange yourself so the side of your thighs press up against Deku’s, and rest your head on his shoulder

He sweats nervously, and smells of bergamot and… Fresh laundry. It’s pleasant, though not as hypnotizing as Bakugous sweet caramel. Bakugous scent leaves you hungry for him, while Deku makes you feel… Comforted. Like receiving a warm hug from a friend. A completely non-romantic friend. A platonic friend. What the fuck are you doing?!

You repeat the words “platonic” and “friend” in your mind to remind yourself what Deku is to you. But the longer your bodies touch, the anstier you grow to touch more. Just to see what it feels like.  

Yes, Zuzu has been your friend forever-- Doesn’t that the experience of dating him even better? Doesn’t that make you want to steal his first kiss, so he’ll forever hold you in his heart?  Doesn’t that make feeling his body shudder from pleasure under yours even hotter? 

You bite your lips at these thoughts, unaware Izuku is imagining the same. His face is practically the color of a strawberry-- his green hair really bringing the image all together.

You turn to one another in unison, searching for the answer in each other’s eyes; Is this love? Or is this emptiness? You and Deku silently struggle to figure out an explanation, though it doesn’t matter. 

Because you kiss anyway.

As soon as you make contact, those sparks that frazzled you earlier return. When you push your mouth harder against his, they dazzle you.

Izukus lips are thin, but creamy. He’s the kind of guy who carries chapstick with him everywhere, and apparently his favorite flavor is vanilla, because when you run your tongue along his lip it tastes like ice cream. He whimpers at the feeling, and you take advantage of how sensitive he is. When you bite his lip he moans into your mouth and pulls you closer.

Kissing Midoriya is as gratifying as it is dissatisfying. Kissing someone so desperate-- so needy, for you, is empowering. It fills your Bakugou-sized hole with pleasure. But, his kiss is also cold and lifeless. The only emotion that fuels it is rejection. Behind this kiss, and behind your lips, is loneliness. You’re both anxious and uncertain, so you’re kissing what’s comfortable. And you keep kissing to replace these problematic feelings with something exciting. 

Soon, your kisses become hollow. The sparkes evaporate. Izukus lips aren’t as delicious as they seemed when you first started, and the way you nibble on his lip begins to sting.

You slow to a mutual halt, deciding to bask in eachothers warmth through cuddles instead of kisses. Even though Izuku’s body is alive with the heat of your kiss, he feels cold.

You return to the movie, but the kiss leaves another question lingering in the air.

You’re best friends.

What does this mean?

Something has shifted between you two, and you can’t tell if its for the better or the worst.