#i might change up the colours later to make them flow together better

[prowerprojects]

Did a slight Zooey redesign for the Sunflower au, didn't change much because I already like her design a lot (the poor girl doesn't have much else going for her)

She's supposed to be the same age as Tails so I tried to make her look more like a kid, don't know if it really worked. (Though she's also supposed to be a bit tall for her age). I also changed her eye colour.

Made an alternative version (under the cut) where I added some markings on the feet and hands. I don't give them to Tails for reasons, so I thought maybe I could give them to her? I don't think it lools too bad.

[wisehoagiekidwobbler]

Forms of Witchcraft

•Dolls and Poppets

Poppets are the English terms for what movies call a ‘voodoo doll’. Voodoo doll is a misnomer, and does nothing for either poppets or Haitian magic.

Poppets can be used for a couple of things – mainly either cursing or healing. This doesn’t always have to be physical curses/cures – poppets can also be used to influence thought patterns.

Dolls can also be used to provide homes for Spirits, or used to create guardians. You can also use a doll as a scapegoat to prevent a curse from latching onto you.

•Shrinemaking

Shrine making is less a way to create a defined outcome, and more a way of pleasing Spirits who you may later want to call upon. It’s kinda like taking your new neighbours a pie, in case you ever need them to watch the house whilst you’re away. The pie is an overture to a friendly relationship, not direct payment for the house sitting. However, if you just blundered into their garden one day and offered them £100 to watch the house, they’d probably tell you to get lost. Randomly calling up Spirits, Saint or Deities can have the same effect. I mean, would you help someone get a job if they just banged on your door and waved some incense at you? Get your local Spirits pies. Find out what scents, and objects, and offerings that they like. Keep the land around you clean, and pick up after other people if you can. Use your vote and your money to protect the land from logging and fracking. Build a dedicated ‘meeting space’ where you call up Spirits, and fill it full of pictures of them or things they like. It pays dividends in the future.

Shrinemaking can also be used to help bless and protect your home and land. By connecting with the other Spirits that are there, you solidify the relationship, and can work together against intruders.

•Bottles and Jars

Witch bottles (or spell jars)  are fun, easy ways to create a variety of effects. As a spell base, they can be effective for:

* money

* love

* friendship

* animal work

* protection

Some people define a witch bottle as strictly the traditional version which is used as a scapegoat, and call other spells involving bottles and jars ‘spell jars’. Some people use the term witch bottle to encompass all magics involving jars.

You can learn about all types of bottle magic in the free course which you can sign up for below!

•Candles

Candle magic is a much more modern form of magic than you’d think – especially if we’re talking coloured candles. Candles were very precious objects in the past! However, it was not an unusual item to have, like a hunk of crystal or fairy doll, which is why they became an item to use for undetected witchcraft – like brooms, and cauldrons.

As candles have got cheaper and cheaper and less needed to be used for lighting, much more forms and types of magic have sprung up around them. With the addition of coloured waxes or painted candles, the sorts of magic you can do with candles has grown exponentially.

Candles are a subset of fire magic and therefore are fantastic for banishing, but they are often the beginners tool of choice. It’s easy to understand why – easy to get hold of, easy to use, and there’s as much fancy ritual needed as you feel inclined to give it.

When you want to expand your knowledge, you can still stick with candles – but investigate the use of oils, herbs and crystals in conjunction with candles.

•Crystals and Rocks

Crystals and rocks are often used as ‘ingredients’ in other spells. They are very easy to add to bottles, pouches, dolls and more. However, you can also use crystals in spell work solely on their own by adding them to your pillow, till, money box, plant pot, etc.

Their use goes much further than this, but that enters the realm of energy healing which is a part of many traditions and is a very dedicated and intensive practice all by itself, and too much to explain here.

Air

You can utilize the powers of air in a lot of ways. It’s usually good for cleansing spells – think sweeping with a ritual broom, burning incense (smoke=air, not fire), ringing bells or playing bowls, singing, using flags and wheels. Air methods tend to return quick results.

Earth

Earth brings slow results, but they tend to be larger. Earth practices include enchanting seeds that will bring you money as they grow, burying offerings in the Earth, making vessels and spells out of clay, or writing spells in the mud.

Fire

Fire can bring things into your life, but is much better used to get rid of them – for beginners, anyway. If there is anything in your life that you wish to get rid of, you can write or draw a representation of it and cast it into the fire to remove it.

Water

Water can take the longest time to bring you what you need. However, think of water pounding against a rock. Drips of water became rivers, became waterfalls. Water can often bring you the biggest results, but it may take a long time.

Water spells can include potions (see below), but can also include ritual baths, leaving offers in water, or giving up bad energy or habits to the ocean.

•Bones

Bones are a contentious subject in witchcraft. Some people will never use them, some people’s practice is not complete without them. You can actually get bones in an ethical manner, by either cleaning up roadkill yourself or paying someone to do it for you, or literally keeping the bones from your dinner!

Some uses for bones are:

* Telling the future (casting bones or lots)

* Housing the Spirit of the animal so you can work with them

* Form parts of wands or ritual jewellery or headresses

* Ingredients in pouches

Tarot, Runes and Ogham

You can use all of these fortune telling tools in spells, too! You can choose one of them that has a characteristic or represents an outcome that you’d like. So if you wanted a new job, you might choose the Ace of Pentacles. Then you could do any one of the following with it:

* Use it to focus a candle spell

* Add it to a pouch or bag spell

* Add it to a jar spell

* Use it in lieu of a sigil

* Make a vision board around it

* Even burn it! (You can get single Tarot cards for this purpose on eBay.)

•Potions and Elixirs

Potion Magic used to be a lot more popular. Whilst elixirs, tisanes and tea blends are still popular for use on yourself, the masses of recipes of potions, philtres and similar recipes have all but died out. That’s because a lot of potion magic is only to be used in desperate circumstances, like love potions and curses. The reason so many old fashioned love potions are beyond creepy and controlling is that woman’s husband was her meal ticket. If he left her, not only would she be blamed, but she would be out of a house, food and her own family probably wouldn’t take her in. She had shamed them all. (Often through no actual fault of her own.) She was literally facing public humiliation, being outcast, perhaps even starving to death – and sometimes her children along with here.

So dousing  a lover or husband’s food with love potion made a lot more sense then, than it does now.

Thankfully, most of us don’t live in those circumstances any more, so a lot of philtre or potion use has died out. However, there are still some amazing things you can make to ingest yourself:

* Tea blends

* Tisanes (herbals teas)

* Bath spells

* Lunar or solar water

* Herbal Oils

Spoken Magic

Spoken Magic can be long and complicated, or very short. It doesn’t have to rhyme (but it can) it doesn’t have to flow like poetry (but it can). You can use spoken incantation to help direct energy when you’re using other methods, but you can also use it on it’s own.

Some examples of spoken magic:

* Affirmations

* Words of power

* Singing

* Ritual Offerings

* Wishes

You can even banish Spirit’s solely through your voice. Shouting ‘Leave!’ with the correct intention can be very powerful.

•Written Magic

Written magic has existed since we could write. Many cultures view writing AS magic. Think about it – 26 (or thereabouts, depends on your alphabet) tiny squiggles can become anything when placed in the right order. Dumbledore was right about the power of words.

Written magic can include:

* Petitions to Spirits

* Magic squares

* Words of power or protection

* Wishes

* Tattoos

* Rune work

Bag and Pouch Magic

There is all kinds of bag magic – from mojo bags, to more modern spell envelopes. The main idea behind bag or pouch magic is that keeping a carefully curated selection of objects together for a certain time period will produce the effects that you want. A lot of bag magic produces indefinite spells  provided they are charged. Such bags usually grant the wearer protection, prosperity, luck or good health. However, there are bag magics wear a specific time limited spell is wanted – invisibility spells, hex breakers and the like.

•Enchantments and Glamours

Enchantment covers a variety of spell types, but theme of the spells are pretty much the same. Enchantment covers a lot of the old folklore kind of witchcraft – hidden worlds, changing age, changing into different animals and so on.

Enchanting something fools the viewer into believing something is there when it is not, or isn’t there when it is, or is something completely different.

Think of the Harry Potter scene where Hermione explains that the ceiling of the Great Hall isn’t a real sky, it’s just enchanted to look that way.

Real enchantment can be done for fun, but they can also be useful pieces of magic. You can enchant jewelry, clothes or makeup to bestow certain personality traits upon you. You can enchant your witchy items to look normal if you’re fearful of discovery. The possibilities are just about endless.

[hslotharrie]

To My Best Friend

summary: reader faces quarantine at Harry’s and, turns out, it was exactly what they needed to come clean. also, Anne is the superior Mum.

word count: 2.3k

warnings: completely fluff. with marriage + mentions of family? not edited... when do I ever edit

based off of this ask<3

When you wake, the sun is shining through a slightly opened window in the far left corner of your bedroom. You can hear birds chirping amongst themselves from outside, cars driving far in the distance, it's quiet at Harry's home. Peaceful.

It's been a little more than four months since you and Harry decided to bubble at the beginning of quarantine. What you expected to be a few weeks turned into a lot more, but there were no complaints. Harry has the space, is the type to crave company, and you're his best friend.

Best friend.

You roll in the soft sheets, hugging the covers for a few minutes until you inevitably force yourself to get up for the day. You're not sure what sort of expensive luxury bed set this is, but god, they are comfy. You make a mental note to ask him later.

You zone out again on the soft sounds of the birds and the pleasant cool breeze flowing in through the window. You pull your phone from the bedside table to check the time, 10:56– and the weather, sunny and 78. You consider getting in the pool later.

Harry's phone rings somewhere outside of your room, followed by some muffled mumbling from the man himself signalling that he's awake too. You wonder if he's ate yet; he's a sucker for your omelettes and you're craving one about now.

You climb out of bed,  going to the bathroom to tame your hair and brush your teeth, before heading to the kitchen to put together ingredients for the omelettes.

It's about 10 minutes before Harry appears in the kitchen, provoked by the smell. He places a hand on your lower back as a silent 'good morning!' while he stands to your side to admire your cooking. You try your best to ignore the warm feeling that his touch brings; the feeling that makes you wish for more than just a touch.

It makes you nervous, how quickly his presence has you feeling butterflies or how fast he can make you smile when you're in the darkest of moods. You've been sitting on the feelings for years, they were always there, hiding in the back of your head. The feelings that made you wish you'd shared that drink with him just for the second-hand contact to his lips.

Those are the thoughts that make you nervous. You try not to think about them when he's standing right next to you watching your every move with a wandering hand on the small of your back.

He's dressed in a colourful flannel and some shorts, you notice, much different than your fresh out of bed joggers and t-shirt. You make a mental note to change later, and you consider stealing one of his flannels (there's the thoughts again,) just to have his smell on you.

He pulls away from you to begin setting up the eating area, bringing out cups and silverware and then returning with a plate when he senses the omelette is nearly done. He stands to your left with the plate held in both hands like an excited toddler and when you flip the breakfast meal onto his plate he leans over and presses a quick kiss to your forehead in thanks. The thoughts come rushing back; I like when you kiss me, Harry.

"D'you have any plans for today?" he quizzes, before taking a drink of his orange juice.

"Was thinking about going in the pool later," you tell him, "it seemed nice out, an' I love your pool."

"I rather like my pool too," he chuckles "I'll join you, yeah? Could go for a swim later."

When you finish eating, Harry takes the plates to wash despite your protests. You cooked, he argues, so he cleans. You glance at the time, almost 12, and decide that the time it will take to change and freshen up will be enough for your stomach to settle and therefore a swim will be safe.

Returning upstairs, you first search for a bikini and then your sunglasses, changing and adding a pair of shorts. You brush your hair, throughly this time, and tie it up to avoid contact with the chlorinated water.

Before you go back downstairs, you take a minute to look at yourself in the mirror— doing your best not to allow the thoughts to come forward. (You don't think about how your body will look to Harry, and you definitely don't allow yourself to think about what he might think about the bikini you chose. Absolutely not.)

When you return downstairs to the kitchen, the dishes are washed and on the drying rack. Grabbing two cups and straws, you fill each about half with ice and then filtered water; and carry them both out to the poolside where Harry sits contently in the sun.

Unbeknownst to you, Harry's eyes travel along your body through his sunglasses when you appear from inside of the house, wishing he could touch you. His brain flicks back to the phone call he had this morning with his Mum, how she encouraged him to make a move because she knows you're meant to be. His stomach flips thinking about it.

"Do you remember when we went to that party and you pushed that guy into the pool because he was flirting with me?" you smile, sitting down beside him and handing him one of the cold waters.

"Mm, we had to leave because he was gonna' beat me up," Harry chuckles, "I was drunk. Probably lucky he ended up in the pool."

"You were being protective! It was cute!" you defend,  rubbing his back lazily in comfort. He looks at you in a funny way, smile faltering a little before he returns his eyes back to the pool.

"M'gonna test the waters so the princess doesn't freeze," He proposes, rising from his seat when you give him a playful smack.

You rise as well, shimmying off your loose shorts and moving to sit at the side of the pool. Watching harry submerge himself first, you let your legs dangle off of the edge and into the water. It's cold, but a pleasant, enjoyable cold in the hot sun.

You sit contently for a few minutes, enjoying the water on your legs and watching harry swim back and forth. You lean back and turn your attention somewhere else, trying to avoid being caught staring.  Suddenly, though, a hand brushes up the side of one of your submerged legs, informing you of Harry's presence.

"Y'coming in?" he asks, standing now. He's tall, so your faces are about level now.

"Are you in a hurry?" He's close enough now that he's dripping cold water on your skin.

"Maybe,"

Suddenly, he's gripping your waist to lift you and pull you into the water. You squeal, grabbing his shoulders as leverage as he practically drops you into the water that feels ice cold against your warm sunny skin. He laughs loud and happy when you splash water in his direction as payback.

Soon, both of your energies mellow out. Harry's on his phone, while you're floating around in a doughnut shaped floatie. Harry snaps a photo, but you don't notice.

When it's time to get out, Harry offers to go grab the towels while you float around for a few more minutes. He's driving you crazy in the best way. Your skin still tingles where he had touched your sides to lift you into the water, and your palms burn with the memory of his bare shoulders.

When he returns, it's like his energy has changed. The sight of a shirt over his chest makes you frown momentarily, and he's light on his feet rather than the happy strides he took on his way into his home. You see him tuck his phone into his pocket as if he's been talking to someone again, and when his eyes meet yours the wide smile is hiding something else.

When you slip out of the doughnut and climb up the pool ladder, he mumbles a soft "c'mere" and wraps the towel around your shoulders. His eyes watch you for a little longer than they should've.

"Mum called again," He murmurs.

"I's she doing well? Is that who called this morning?" you question, keeping your attention on his eyes.

"Yeah, woke you up I suppose,"

"Not at all!" You defend.

He goes quiet, picking at his fingernails (a nervous habit you notice he's developed since beginning to paint his nails) and looking off to the side to avoid holding eye contact with you. This makes you nervous, he's never this way around you.

"Harry,"

"I'm sorry, 'shouldn't be such a big deal," he says, letting out an awkward laugh.

A soft smile appears on your face, taking his hands into yours to part them. Gently, you move towards him, pressing yourself wordlessly into his body and allowing his hands to wrap around your towel-covered body. It brings him comfort, and you ignore your own heart beating at the contact.

"Better?"

"A little." He admits. He loves holding you, and sure, it helps his nerves, but he's going to tell you.

His Mum's been on him since he told her you'd be staying with him, telling him “now or never, Harry!”, and he's beginning to realize it really is now or never. He doesn't know how long quarantine will keep up or how much longer you will decide to stay, and he misses you even when you're just running something as simple as a grocery trip.

He doesn't know why he's scared, he knows a friendship as strong as yours could work through anything, Still, there's always the possibility that things could go bad. “Get out of your head!'”Anne would say.

This type of topic between the two of you is quite common, given Harry's music and your tendency to be quite open. However, this type of topic concerning the two of you is uncharted territory.

He thinks about the story you'd brought up earlier. When you'd both went to a party together and some guy, very obviously drunker than the both of you, tried to flirt his way into your pants before Harry had pushed him into the pool himself.

The truth is, he knew you would hold your ground if you weren't interested. Actually, Harry knows from first-hand experience that you don't need protection, you can be very vocal when you need to be, and he's even seen you deck someone at the bar a few years back for touching one of your friends. You were the protector.

That's why, upon seeing Harry at such a nervous loss of words, you had hugged him. It was your own way of protecting him.

"I wasn't trying t'protect you when I pushed that guy into the pool." He states, quiet and unsure.

You only hum in reply, allowing him to finish his sentence but letting him know you heard what he said.

" 'was jealous."

What?

"What?" you pull away from him only slightly, “why?"

"I didn't want stupid—" he pauses for the name "Josh, or whatever, t'be the one to take y'home."

You give him a confused look, now that you can see his face. Not putting two and two together.

"Josh is great! I love Josh—"

"More than me?" he murmurs, and it clicks.

Oh.

"Of course not... Harry," you hesitate, watching his eyes move between your own and his jaw clench.

Is this happening?

"I wanted," his shaky hand finds your arm, sliding down to take hold of your own, equally shaky left hand to toy with your fingers.

"I wanted t'take you home. Crawl into bed with you. Whatever else." he finishes. His stomach is in butterflies by now and he feels the tight, anxiety feeling in his lungs.

It catches him completely off guard when your lips are on his.

When you try to pull away, scared you've overstepped, his mouth only follows your own and his hand rises to your jaw to hold you steady. He feels a weight lifted from his shoulders, holding you, kissing you, like this. This is what he's needed.

When you finally do pull away, it's to go inside. Harry erupts in happy laughter when you make a beeline up the stairs. Nothing happens though, it's too soon and Harry agrees, but that doesn't stop you from curling into Harry's sheets, cuddling and kissing each other while watching one of your favourite films.

Catching up on missed time.

***

The wedding reception.

How did we end up here?

"Honestly," Harry speaks loudly to the crowd of your family and friends within the dinner hall "I have two people to thank for sealing the deal."

You smile wildly, knowing exactly which story he's about to bring up. Your eyes travel through the table groups you and Harry had spent so much time planning out. When your eyes catch with Mitch's he gives you a wink.

"Anne, my beautiful Mother, thank you for not letting me coward out of finally telling my girl how I felt," he pauses, you place a hand on his knee

"And Josh—"

You can't hold back the laugh, especially when the entire room turns to face the poor, completely unsuspecting victim. Josh, face red and confused smile on his lips.

"Years ago, when I pushed you into that pool at your birthday party because— you would've killed me if I didn't run! Because you were talking to her and I got jealous!" the room is erupting in laughter.

The room is full of the most important people in your's and Harry's lives. Still though, your happy eyes are glued to Harry, working the small crowd of people as per usual and telling a story about the time of and before quarantine; of when you'd basically moved in with him and never left.

Later, when you're wrapped in warm blankets and Harry's arms, you're reflecting on your day. The guests, who you'd talked to, what you'd heard.

"Wow. I'm married." he dumbfounds.

Wow is right.

"We're married." you restate for him, giving his hand a soft squeeze.

"Wow. I'm married to my best friend.”

Giggles boil over in the dark room. Harry is astonished suddenly, pupils blown, wide grin on his face. He presses quick kisses to the side of your face and you snuggle into his side more.

"I think we win, H."

[embywolf]

Zelink Week Day 5: Domesticity

Okay so here goes: I suck with grammar stuff, maths/physics are not my strong point, I know nothing of birthing and I've never written anything for fun like this. I had the idea a while ago and it might not work as I decided to try and fit that idea into the prompt for today. I'm very nervous to be posting this and I may well delete it later but for now, here is my first ever attempt. Also no idea how to format it on Tumblr, or at all if I'm being honest but figured I'd add a line as this came out longer than I expected ^_^;

I'm rambling now, can you tell? *Hovers over post button*

_________________________

Day 5 – Domesticity

She had his hand in a vice like grip, knuckles turning white. It ached, but not as much as his heart did at the sounds of her panting and pained screams. He kissed the side of her head where her hair was matted to her face with sweat. His emotions were all over the place but at the same time there was nowhere else he would rather be right now. As much as he hated her to be in any form of pain, he knew it was temporary and would be so worth it.

He murmured into her ear “You’re doing so, so well my love. Not much longer now, you can do this”

She panted hard and fast, anticipating the next contraction. He was perched on the edge of her bed, one leg laid straight alongside her, the other on the floor. He had one arm around her shoulders, hand rubbing soothing motions down her arm while the other was either placed on her stomach or, when her contractions started up again was held tightly in her grip for support.

From her parted legs and bent knees, Impa, her most trusted and loyal friend peeked above the white sheets that were draped over her. She grinned at the both of them before looking straight into Zelda’s eyes “I can see the crown! Another few good pushes and she’ll be with us”

Zelda whimpered. She was so very tired; she wasn’t sure how much more pushing she could do. As if Link had read her mind he spoke softly against her cheek “I know you tired, love. You’re so strong and we’ll soon get to meet our little girl. A few more pushes, can you do that for me?”. Zelda nodded, heaving out a massive breath as she could feel the tension of another contraction beginning.

“Zelda, I need you to give a nice big push with your next contraction” Impa urged. Zelda clenched Link’s hand once again as the contraction came over her. She strained and grunted so hard into the push that her whole face became red and heated and Link couldn’t help but be in awe of her strength. He didn’t think it was possible to love her more than he did right now in this moment.

Although the pregnancy wasn’t exactly planned, they both knew that they had wanted children together eventually. It was a given knowing that she was the reigning sovereign of Hyrule and it was expected of her to have an heir. As was tradition, there always had to be a Zelda successor, so as soon as they found out about the pregnancy everyone had begin called the baby Little Zel (they hadn’t officially decided on a name if they weren’t sticking with tradition, but it was better than called her an ‘it’ or ‘she’).

“Good girl, keep pushing!” Impa urged, the excitement rising in her tone “Her heads out! Continue your panting until you feel the need to push again.”

Link placed the hand that had been running up and down her arm to the side of her head, pushing lightly to encourage her to rest her head against his shoulder. He closed his eyes and run his hand through her hair, humming quietly in an attempt to try to sooth his wife. His wife! How did he end up so lucky? He thought absently.

“Link?” Zelda breathy voice broke through his thoughts

“Hmm?” He stopped his humming at the sound of her voice, opening his eyes to glance at her.

“Thank you for being here for me… for us” she says, placing one hand on her belly. He kissed her sweaty forehead and looked deeply into her eyes “There is no place in the entire world that I would rather be right now. Thank you for letting me be here for the birth of our girl – our daughter, Zelda.”

Her lips curled up in a brief smile and she hummed contentedly at his words before her face scrunched again as her next contraction overcame her.

“One more big push” Impa exclaimed and Zelda tensed her shoulders, sat up slightly and heaved.

“Hear that, Zel? One more big push and she’ll be with us” he was rubbing circles between her shoulder blades now, doing what little he could to somehow try and ease even a fraction of her pain.

“Keep pushin-“ Impa was interrupted as Zelda let out a noise between a shout and a wail. An ear-piercing cry broke out into the room as Little Zel took her first breaths of Hyrulian air.

“She’s here!” Link choked on a sob, catching Zelda in his arms as she flopped back on the bed, panting hard.

“She certainly is!” Impa grinned as she tended to the new born babe. She had checked her airway to ensure it is clear and listened to her strong heartbeat. “She’s a healthy, beautiful baby-“ she started as she began to wrap her up ready to present her to her parents when Impa noticed something… unexpected… “boy” she gasped out in surprise.

Impa placed the boy in his mothers arms who had tears flowing down her face and the biggest smile graced her features. She bundled the baby up looking lovingly down into his face and said in the most heart-warming voice “Hello my boy” she breathed out in a sort of laugh sob “hello ourboy” – she was looking at Link now who was freely crying and looking between both his son (his son! Hylia, he has a son!) and his wife. He placed his hand on top of the babies head, cupping it slightly and rubbing the fine, sand coloured hair there as Zelda leaned in towards him. He kissed Zelda’s head again and looked down at the bundle in her arms, awed and stunned. He was swept up in the feelings of love and pride in the strength of his wife growing this beautiful little life in her body and going through the pain of birthing. “Hello, son” he said in a breathy whisper.

---------

“What does this mean, Impa?” Zelda asked as she nursed her son, who apparently had the appetite of his father. Link was still sat beside her on the bed watching Zelda take to motherhood like a natural, completed besotted with his little family.

“I.. I’m not sure” Impa stood at the foot of the bed which had since been cleaned since the birth. “I plan on speaking with the elders and consulting some of our Sheikah texts to see if this has ever happened before in our history. I suspect not, something this significant would surely be common knowledge among us.”

Link glanced up at this “So you think that Zelda having a son is significant in the eyes of the goddess and not merely a matter of biology?”

“You know the legends as well as I, Link. You know that Hylia incarnate is always female as is the nature of maternal bloodlines” Zelda wasn’t looking at either him or Impa, she was fascinated watching her boy as he greedily suckled. She didn’t care either way that he way a boy, he was hers and she was so totally and utterly in love with him.

“Now that I know he is nursing properly I think it is time to take my leave and investigate this little miracle” Impa smiled warmly “it is also advisable that baby has skin on skin contact with his parents to help with bonding” She looked pointedly at Link “Both his parents”. She stepped towards the door before looking back at the little family “Oh, and your highness? I think you may need to consider a different name for him. Little Zel hardly seems to suit him, don’t you think?” She grinned and made her way out through the door, leaving both doting parents cooing over their new addition.

Once they were alone the little Hylian hiccupped softly, Zelda looked towards Link with pride in her eyes as he stared down at the boy and laughed lightly at the cute noises he was making. “I think it’s time this little one gets some bonding time with his father, don’t you?” She said as she shifted on the bed, cradling the baby gently and holding him out to Link. For a brief moment the baby wriggles at the change in position, stretching his limbs before snuggling up into the crook of Link’s arm. He yawns and one of his outstretched arms meets with Links hand, his tiny fingers curling around one of his fathers. Link choked on a sob as Zelda rests her head on his shoulder

“We need to name him”

“A significant name for a significant boy”

“What do you suggest?” He asks gently, her face falters at that. She has no idea. Neither does he.

“I.. I really don’t know. Any names I can think of are all girls names and that would be assuming we broke with tradition and didn’t use Zelda. Like Hope or Harmony – something that signifies the fact he was born after the calamity was vanquished.”

“You say something significant, right?” To which Zelda nods “What about ‘Rise’ as in surp-rise? After all he certainly is a surprise”. “Link please, be serious.” She looked at him with a raised brow.

“Okay, what about Finn. As in the end of the calamity?”

“No, he doesn’t look like a Finn”

“Miri like ‘Miracle’?”

“Nope”.

“Hmmm” Link ponders for a while, mummering to himself “He was born in a time of peace, where balance has been restored and tranquillity reigns –“ Link cuts himself short. “What about Quill? As in Tranquillity. That’s what his birth represents Afterall, tranquillity after a hard-won battle”

Zelda looks into the face of the child in his arms, sleeping peacefully nestled against his chest. “You know, I quite like it. It suits him. What do you think, Quill?” Zelda smiles after testing the name out loud and as if he was in agreement one of the babies cheeks scrunched up adorably, the edge of his mouth raising slightly as if he was smiling.

---------

Once Zelda and Quill had been given the all clear by the Doctors the new family were allowed to leave the infirmary and go back to their suite. Quill had been sleeping soundly in the bassinette that was placed by Zelda’s side of the bed which gave Zelda chance to rest herself. She was exhausted and sore, and as much as she wanted to keep just staring at her new son her body was struggling to stay awake. She fell asleep listening to Quills gentle breathing as Link was emptying the bags that they had taken with them to the infirmary when her labour had started. As he went to put something away in their bedroom, he noticed that Zelda had fallen asleep and stood leaning against the doorframe to just watch and take in the beautiful sight before him. While they slept Link showered to try and wake himself up a little. Zelda’s labour had been intense and long lasting, he has stayed up with her throughout it all and he was determined to let her rest while he took care of the both of them.

He came out of the bathroom with his hair down and messy from being towel dried, said towel draped over his shoulders to avoid getting his bare back soaked. He was wearing only his trousers as he busied himself around the room. He stopped what he was doing when he heard Quill start to stir and he seen Zelda’s face twitch slightly as if she was about to rouse from her sleep. Deciding she had had nowhere near enough rest yet Link picked Quill up from his basket and held him against his chest mumbling slightly as to not wake her.

“I’m here, little one” he said softly. “Mummy is resting right now and we need to be quiet to let her sleep, okay?”. He walked to the other side of the bed where he carefully lay down beside Zelda, his back propped against the pillows and his son resting against his chest. The boy calmed down upon contact with his father as Link patted his back soothingly. Quill burped then bunched his hands in the towel around Links shoulders who let out a small chuckle and began stroking his back softly. This repetitive and calming motion lulled both to sleep and it was Zelda that roused first, opening her eyes to the sight of Link and Quill snoozing together. It struck her then just how much like Link he is, he certainly had his hair and maybe his eyes. From the little glimpses Zelda had gotten his eyes looked like they may be blue but he had his mother’s nose and the same chubby cheeks that Zelda had had as a child.

She lay there in silence, enjoying the moment when a soft knock came at the door. Link roused from his nap and Quill stirred but didn’t awaken. “Come in” Zelda spoke softly but loud enough to be heard through the door, which opened as Impa popped her head around the door glancing around to look for the room occupants. “Your highness?” She questioned as Zelda rose from the bed wincing “I can come back at a more convenient time?” She said as she noticed Zelda emerging slowly and carefully from the bedroom

“Not at all Impa, please take a seat. I trust you are here having sought council with the elders?” Zelda lowered herself into one of the lounge chairs slowly, using the arm rests to support her before gesturing for Impa to take a seat at the chair opposite. Link, upon hearing Impa’s voice joined them in the lounge area, Quill’s head resting gently on his shoulder as his little legs were curled beneath him against his fathers chest. Link had draped the towel in such a way to cover most of his chest but was sure to leave the shoulder Quill was resting on exposed. He nodded and smiled warmly at Impa as he handed the baby to Zelda as he started fussing quietly. When he was settled in her arms Link glanced down at her lovingly and gave her a quick peck on the head and rubbed his knuckles softly against Quill’s cheek before heading back into the bedroom to retrieve a clean shirt.

Once he was fully dressed and had bought a tray of tea to the table between the two women, he took a seat next to Zelda as she slowly rocked the baby in her arms.

“As you both know I warped to Kakariko this afternoon to consult the ancient texts and speak with those much older and wiser than myself.” Impa began, her head tilted to one side as she watched the family in front of her fondly.

“Did you find anything of interest” Link piped up; his voice slightly hoarse from sleep.

Impa nodded, a small smile gracing her lips “I did.” To which Zelda looked up into Impa’s eyes and awaited what she had to say.

“So, as I suspected, have a male heir has never happened in the history of the royal family blessed by the goddess. I found an old passage in one of the very ancient tomes that we barely look at due to its fragile state. If I translated correctly, which according to the librarian I did, the passage spoke of a triangle that varies from the triforce in that it is more of mathematical equation rather than anything else. It speaks of forces that occur in nature and being able to calculate the distance, speed and time of an object which, apparently, if applied to the triforce gives us the answer to the calamities end.”

Zelda raised her eyebrow “but the calamity has been defeated in the past before, and still there has been no male heir born to the triforce of wisdom afterwards. So why now?”

“Because the equation has never been fully solved before” Impa says with a knowing smile. It wasn’t often that Zelda was slow on the uptake so Impa decided to continue, grabbing a piece of paper and a pen from the table in front of her in order to demonstrate what she means.

“If we place the triforce pieces in their usual positions with power at the top, wisdom bottom left and courage bottom right…” Impa draws the triforce as it has always been known “…and then we apply the mathematical formular gathered from the texts…” She draws a horizontal line below power then a vertical line between courage and wisdom “…we get the equation for defeating the calamity permanently.” She glances up at the two of them where she is perched on the end of her seat.

“I.. I’m sorry Impa but I don’t quite follow.” Zelda admitted honestly, to which Link was grateful as it meant he didn’t need to admit out loud that he too was confused - If Zelda wasn’t quite grasping it then he didn’t feel so stupid after all.

Impa wrote the equivalent formulae to accompany the triangle, also adding an ‘x’ between the vertical line. The equation read p = w x c. Zelda gasped slightly as she finally understood “Wait, so you’re saying that… that”

Impa nodding again “that’s exactly what I’m saying. The prophecy suggests that for the calamity to be beaten permanently, never to be reincarnated again then wisdom and courage need to combine. This has never happened before as previous incarnates of wisdom and courage have never been together in this way and certainly never producing offspring.”

Zelda looked to Link then, speaking softly almost in a trance “our son is a blessing from Hylia telling us that it’s over. And not just for this generation but for eternity!” Zelda’s eyes were misted up as she looked at Quill.

“In order to overcome the bane of power, wisdom and courage must combine not only in battle but also in surrender. The coming together of the two produces a force so great that not even malice incarnate can prevail.” Impa quoted from the text and gestured to the boy in Zelda’s arms.

---------

A few weeks later once Zelda had sufficiently recovered from birth and the new family had had some bonding time, the champions and the Sheikah scientists were invited to the castle for a private celebration of both the end of calamities and to introduce Quill to their friends before a formal announcement to the kingdom.

The gathering was held in a private pagoda in the castle courtyard near to the gardens with a spread of delicious foods to cater to everyone’s tastes. The group were sat together awaiting the arrival of the guest of honour. They stand when they see Zelda and Link approaching the table and as they get closer they could see Zelda’s eyes were already misty with tears of pride as she stood in front of all her most treasured friends, with Links left arm resting across her lower back and her son in her arms facing away from the group.

“Everyone” Zelda spoke in a soft but clear voice “Link and I are so very happy that you are here to join us. Your bravery and skill have proven vitally important to get where we are today, and as I know you are all aware the calamity is over and shall never plague this world again.” Everyone around her nodding and made small, gratifying sounds of approval. “It is now, in this time of great peace and tranquillity that I would like to introduce to our blessing and proof of our everlasting victory.” At this, Zelda jostled the boy in her arms carefully. “Everyone, I’d like you to meet Quill!” Zelda beamed as she turned Quill in her arms so that he was facing her treasured allies and friends.

Most of the group cooed and ‘awwed’ at Quill, and even Revali dropped his snide remarks to look over the baby with a small nod of his head to Link. It was then that realisation hit him, as he watched his wife's wide smile and beaming face as she conversed joyously with those her held most dear – they had done it. They had given Hyrule the peace it so desperately deserved after all this time. This was now the age of tranquillity, and all across Hyrule the people would be able to safely indulge in a life free of calamity, a life of true domesticity.

[defdaily]

BEAUTY+ Magazine May 2021 issue featuring JAY B: The Second Act

Translated by defdaily

Among the past, present, and future, which do you think about the most?

The present. I believe that the present is the most important. The future makes you worry constantly, and the past makes you regret constantly so I try not to think about them. Now, I try to make decisions I won’t regret.

Do you think about your current state and things you want to do?

I contemplate a lot about the state of my emotions or what to do in my current situation. Ever since I was young I thought it’d be good to live like the flowing water, tranquilly. You know how water changes its state based on its surroundings. I want to be someone in the free water-like flow.

Has your life until now been like free-flowing water?

My life itself may seem spectacular, but I think the flow of my life itself has been. There was a lot I was lacking in since debuting with GOT7 but I tried my best to show a colour suitable for GOT7. I changed myself according to the container I was in, and instead of being stagnant in one place, I think I flowed here well.

You seem to be careful with choosing an agency. What factors are you contemplating about?

I think about whether I will suit the company. It might be tiring for others to see because I’m so meticulous, and I may seem selfish but I think that I should be selfish right now. My future depends on it as well as the future of the company I will be going to. I think I will have to be selfish for both sides to produce good results.

The members showed their natural sides in the Encore music video. Looking back to 7 years of GOT7’s activities, what is the most memorable moment?

Since we’re performing artists, I remember a lot of moments on stage. 2-3 years ago in Thailand we performed our solo tracks for 7 days and then performed OUT all together as a group. I think a lot about how we were all so excited to perform. I think of those times we were together as seven.

What kind of team was GOT7? Judging as a leader?

The direction of GOT7 I thought of was a fun and free-spirited team. Since Look came out, I’ve been telling the company that we “shouldn’t try too hard to set the mood or look cool. Songs with a style like Look will be our strength.” I don’t think things turned out the way I thought they would. But as you can see from our last album’s song ‘Breath,’ it feels like we went in circles and came back to our original spot. There is some regret about how it would've been good to go more in that direction, then we could’ve shown a more solidified colour. But as a result, it’s a fact that we became a team capable of pulling off various colors.

Did you make those suggestions thinking about the members, because you thought it was what set you guys apart from other groups?

I talked a lot with my members. It seemed like they had the most fun with bright, fun, and chill performances. With performances like that, we think about harmony rather than how each of us can look cool. It leaves a greater impression on the fans when we are visibly having fun.

It seems like the public has also watched over the growth of JAY B. Starting as a bboy to a main vocalist, and writing many remarkable K-pop songs. You also played a huge role in establishing GOT7’s colour. What led you to grow and develop in that way?

I thought that if I felt like I wasn’t growing, then I should quit music.

Does liking it not serve as a reason?

Because it’s my job. Being able to do what you like as a job is something to be grateful for. But if my skills don’t meet the standards and if there is no growth despite my efforts, it’s only right to do it as a hobby. I didn’t think that there was no growth when listening to my music. I thought it could work if I tried a bit more.

What was a song you feel like you reached a new level?

‘Teenager’ and ‘PAGE.’ I think the team’s color was completed with those songs. It helped me realize that I had the potential to write such songs. At first, I was persistent with sticking to my musical color. Later, I changed my thoughts and decided I should write songs suitable for GOT7. It’s something I should obviously do as a member of the team. I think that’s where ‘Teenager’ and ‘PAGE’ lined up very well.

The album 7 for 7 containing ‘Teenager’ was a turning point for GOT7. Through that album, we got the feeling that you guys found your color and most importantly, the quality of the songs written by the members was great. What happened during that time?

I think that’s when our potential exploded (laughs). GOT7 had three turning points. The first was ‘Stop Stop It.’ We heard the song and thought “Wow, this is it.” But the outfits were a bit regretful. The music and the visuals didn’t really match. We wore overalls (laughs). The second turning point was when the Flight Log trilogy was released, and the third was ‘Teenager’ of 7 for 7. That song later led to ‘Look’ and we got to sing ‘PAGE’ and ‘THURSDAY.’ Then we suddenly tried to change our direction to ‘ECLIPSE’ and ‘You Calling My Name’ but eventually ended up back to ‘Breath.’

When you listen to ‘Look’ or ‘PAGE’, do you feel like GOT7’s musical colour reflects your own preference and style? And you’ve made many GOT7 songs with ØFFSHORE crew.

It’s hard to say it wasn’t reflected. But according to my standards, they are songs I wanted to write for the team. I talked a lot with the crew about what (kind of song) should GOT7 do and what would suit GOT7. ‘Look’ was a song that was released because the mood suited GOT7 well. After that it was ‘PAGE’ and ‘THURSDAY’. Our colour was included naturally.

The 8 members of ØFFSHORE are consistently releasing albums. How is that taking place?

We talk about what we feel and decide on a theme whenever we want to release an album. When we decide on a theme, each person would write songs relating to the theme, we select songs and release an album. The themes usually come up as we are talking casually about life. For example <Scene 1> contains the process of leaving on a trip until coming back. Rather than the lyrics, the moods of the songs are like that. When you start the trip you listen to fun songs then (we) get a little calmer as the trip comes to an end. I organised the order of the songs for <Scene 2>. When talking with friends, you usually start by talking about work then you talk about life, the future and then you end up talking about love and relationships. I organised it as that kind of story. There is no specific goal. We spend the revenue from albums on production for the next album. Because everyone in the group are people who make music, there are things that were settled music-wise through these promotions.

You must have been influenced by your friends a lot not only musically, right?

Yes, of course. Regarding life too. I listen to what my older brothers/friends and my parents have to say. I think about the stories of the people who experienced it first once again. One older friend said “We are not doing this for a huge goal, don’t get stressed and let’s just make music.” When I was pondering about how to do better, I heard that and it hit me. Should I say, those words painted my life with colour. I felt like working with energy and strength didn't suit me at the time.

Is it true that you have made 3 albums? Do you only work on songs every day?

Yes. I usually stay in the studio when I can't do my hobby. And since the people I meet are friends who do music too. I don’t know if I can release an album but I’m preparing and working on it.

What kind of albums are they?

In the past, I made powerful “performance-type” songs, but for this album the mood is calmer and the sound is minimal. There is an acoustic feel too. There is a soft tender album, a sad album and a melancholic album too.

Where did the desperation come from?

The desperation of life. I can’t talk about it in detail but there was a topic I really wanted to talk about when I made the album. It could become an album that people frown upon. But, for the music I do alone, I thought I should include honest stories that match my situation.

Did you write about the pain and difficulties you’ve felt all this time? On the surface, you seem to be a recognised leader of a successful idol group, but you must have faced difficulties.

Yes. It’s one part of my life too. Looking back, the difficulties were caused by my own tendencies rather than external factors.

Is it because of the perfectionism you push onto yourself? It seems like the uncertainty and fear contributed to creating your current self.

Yes, I’ve never thought of myself as a perfectionist but people around me often tell me so. They must have a reason for saying that so I ended up acknowledging it myself. I was really ambitious with GOT7 too so I felt a lot of disappointment and stress. I work hard because I know if I don’t, it’ll come back to me as regret. It’s okay to look back to times when I didn’t know well enough and think, “I should’ve done this, I was naive.” What I hate is doing just enough because of reasons like lack of stamina despite knowing what I need to do and knowing that I’m not yet satisfied.

Until now, you’ve made music with the name Def. and through the JUS2 comeback, you also let us hear dreamlike songs from a baritone. Escaping from the category of idol, you now need to create a new identity – is there a kind of music you would like to do fresh?

It’s hard to say it rashly now but, whatever I do, I want to do it properly and solidly. I do prefer a relaxed and easygoing mood, but when it comes to music genres, R&B, hip hop, urban and pop will definitely be the groundwork. However, I do hope that my image will not be fixed to one (genre). It’s no fun to keep doing the same kind of music. And I’m sure there are times when I’ll have to become a little wilder. It’d be great if (I had) a free image. I also hope it’s an image that I won’t be embarrassed of. After coming to a new company and releasing an album, if it doesn’t do well, I think it would be right for me to leave.

Aren’t you fearing failure too much? How would it be possible to achieve what you wish in one go?

Of course, I’m scared. I’m very afraid of failure. Naturally, it won’t be possible to succeed in one shot, but I do have the standard of my Maginot line*. That is what I am referring to. I am usually the type that thinks of the negative things first. It’s not good to be unprepared for the worst-case scenario.

*Maginot line – taken from the fortifications that created the French line of defence, now coming to mean “a defensive barrier or strategy that inspires a false sense of security”

You’ve said that GOT7 has not disbanded, however since all the members are under new companies, coming back together as GOT7 will not be an easy thing to achieve. What kind of method are you thinking of?

I’ve talked a lot with the members. It’s our goal to write one song each month for GOT7. If it’s 1 year, then that’s 12 songs. All our members write songs, so if each one of us does that, then we can accumulate a lot of songs. Everyone is in different companies which will have their own situations, so I can’t make promises for certain, but our goal is to release one album every year. It would be great for that to happen, and I personally think that it should happen. Because that is the minimum courtesy we should show to our fans. It would be even better if we could have a stage.

It would be a new concept.

We heard that the release of our song ‘Encore’ was in an unprecedented manner, and this made my sense of duty and responsibility bigger. Because the steps we take in the future could influence the direction that others may take in the future too. I thought it was the end, but it’s only just the beginning,

Amongst your many hobbies, is there anything you would like to recommend?

Camping. Activities such as setting up tents and cooking really make you think. Even just sitting down in a chair surrounded by nature is really great. Waking up to the sounds of birds singing is amazing; the sound of water running too. Recently, I bought a folding furnace and create my own little fire space. It could be seen as something embarrassing but while having the fire there, if negative thoughts come up, I write it down and then burn it in the fire. If you think that camping may be tiring, glamping would be good too.

Since the name of the magazine is Beauty+, I wanted to ask, is there something that you thought was beautiful recently?

People passed by me laughing and making some noise, and as I saw that, I thought that laughter was something really beautiful. I realised why smiling and laughing is a beautiful thing. It’s not just laughing or smiling, but the emotions that encompass that are really so beautiful. Everything natural is beautiful.

Translated by defdaily.

[cipheress-to-k-pop]

5 Times Dick Grayson tried to kiss you and the 1 time he did

Pairing: Dick Grayson as Robin x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of death and injuries.

Word Count: 3.3K

Summary: The 5 times that Dick Grayson tried to kiss you and the one time that he did.

One

“How do you do the 17th one?” You asked, not even looking up from your notebook. The two of you were tackling your math homework together,

Some might call it cheating but you liked to call it teamwork. Afterall you were a team, and what was the difference between a few supervillains and integrals?

Realizing that he wasn’t answering your question, you looked up only to see him staring intently at you. You blushed, immediately feeling self-conscious and you looked away from his intense gaze.

“Um, Dick?” You spoke quietly, not wanting to cut through the comfortable atmosphere. And most importantly you didn’t want to scare him because you knew he was trigger-happy.

The boy in question was in a trance, not speaking a word, it was difficult to tell if he was even blinking. Something comical in you wanted to shake your hand in front of his face to see if his eyes would shake back and forth like a cartoon character.

The thought made you chuckle and it brought him out of his trance.

“Did you change your lip balm?” He asked curiously and you froze, stumped at the question.

“What?”

“The colour looks different.” He answered like that would explain it but you didn’t know what surprised you more, the fact that he noticed that you changed lip balms, or the fact that he was being so blatant about it.

Something in you felt self-conscious about the fact that he was staring at you lips and so in a moment of insecurity, you pursed them, looking away before regaining your composure.

“Do you just stare at my lips all the time, Grayson?” You teased, hoping to gain some control and his face coloured, “Not all the time.”

“And to answer your question, yes.”

You’ll never know how badly Dick Grayson wanted to kiss you at that moment. How badly he wanted to hold you in his arms and just kiss you until he felt dizzy. 

And you’ll never know what it took for him to sit back down and turn back to his worksheet.

***

Two

You couldn’t help the groan the escaped your mouth as soon as you opened your eyes. Your head was pounding and your mouth was dry, like you had swallowed a mouthful of sand.

You couldn’t feel anything, not until you were pulled up from the ground, numbly lolling against the person who was making you sit upright.

“Easy there.” The boy soothed, rubbing your back and your eyes felt heavier the more you tried to open them.

“Robin?” You croaked out, burying yourself closer to him.

“Yeah, and as much as I like this, we can’t stay here for long.” He told, trying to pull you upright but you kept slumping.

“(S/H/N) come on, if we stay here any longer, we’ll be in danger.”

You tried shaking the dizziness, “Okay, okay, pull me up.”

You were immediately on your feet, relying on Robin to keep yourself upright until the spots in your vision cleared. It took you a second but he kept through your side the entire time, rubbing your back and supporting your weight.

Once you were able to focus, you looked around, realizing you couldn’t recognize your location, “Where are we?”

“Bialya. 6 months later.” He replied, beginning to lead you away, keeping a hold on your arm until you stopped swaying. You most likely had either a concussion or a heat stroke.

“What?”

“I don’t know what’s going on either but we’re gonna find out.” He sounded resolute and you nodded, finding some strength to keep pace beside him.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I just needed a few minutes. As soon as we get home, I’m gonna sleep for days.”

“You know in some countries it’s called a coma.” He teased and you chuckled, allowing him to increase the pace slightly as you fell into step beside him.

“Any reason you haven’t called someone yet?”

“Batman said to maintain radio silence at all times.” He replied but you could tell her was confused about it. The two of you were headed towards a location that he felt had been important enough to be marked on his GPS.

The sun soon stopped beating down on your heads and before long it was nightfall, but you were still walking towards this unknown destination. It was silent, but not awkward, unlike most of the times you spent with Robin which was not awkward, but definitely not silent.

Eventually the exhaustion began to creep up on you again and you started swaying in your steps again, “Rob, I’m sleepy.”

He sighed, pulling you closer, “I know you are; we just have to finish this mission and then we can go home.”

You held on to him, allowing him to lead the way as your eyes closed on their own.

“(S/H/N) you can’t sleep.”

“I’m not sleeping, just, resting my eyes.”

“Okay then keep talking to me.”

So, you did.

You mindlessly rambled on as he guided you through the desert. You talked about your teachers, food, music, anything that came to mind.

“You know I’ve never kissed anyone before?” You murmured and he froze for no longer than a second before he was walking again.

“I’d like to, but I haven’t. But I’d like to.” You spoke again, not noticing the way Robin seemed to stiffen as you kept talking, “But I haven’t, cuz I wanna kiss a guy I like. I’ve heard it’s more special that way.”

“What about me?”

“What about you?”

“What if I kissed you?”

“Well, um, well, I don’t know, I think I would really like it.” You said absentmindedly and a small smile grew on your face at the thought of kissing Robin. Unbeknownst to you, Robin was smiling beside you.

Robin knew that he was taking advantage of the state you were in to get answers and some part of him did feel guilty, but that didn’t stop his heart from soaring when he heard your answer. Though he maintained a cool front, truth was on the inside he was screaming.

He stopped, in the middle of the desert, underneath the moonlight and he wanted to kiss you. And you probably would have enjoyed it.

But your mouth, your stupid mouth, instead spoke up, “But it shouldn’t be right now. No, cuz I haven’t showered, and my lips are probably really dry cuz I’m thirsty. And I don’t want you to think I have gross lips.”

He chuckled, pulling you close to him and walking with you again, “No, we wouldn’t want that.”

*** 

Three

“You’re getting better, (S/H/N).” Commented Robin as you continued to spar in the training room. It was obvious that he was taking it easy on you because your pace was slower that he was used to.

And because you knew for a fact that if he was actually putting any effort then you would be on the ground in two seconds flat.

“Really? Does that mean you’re actually gonna start trying now?” You quipped, enjoying that this seemed more like a dance than sparring.

He laughed, “Not just yet. You need a little more practice.”

You swung at him and he dodged effortlessly, grabbing your arm and jabbing you in the elbow. The two of you continued to move around, dodging each other’s attacks and flowing comfortably around the training room.

This is usually how it would go until Robin got bored and floored you or you lost interest and just walked off the mat while Robin complained about you being a sore loser. He was right. You knew he was better than you at combat, but it didn’t mean you enjoyed getting beat up by him.

Even if he never actually hit you.

Even though the two of you were fighting with a quick pace, you couldn’t help but feel relaxed. Robin had that effect on you, you always felt safe around him.

Even though the boy before you was incredibly annoying, you couldn’t help but find a fondness in spending time with him. You liked him sure, but you weren’t completely sure if it was platonic or romantic as of yet.

Still, you spent most of your time with him on the team since he was the same age as you. It was one of the many things you had in common.

“After training do you want to get something to eat?” You panted, narrowly dodging a kick and you managed to grab his leg, applying a force at his knee before flipping him. He managed to land on his feet (not that you were surprised) and swung at you again.

“What do you wanna eat?” He asked with a normal voice and you narrowed your eyes at him. You had been sparing for 15 minutes now and he hadn’t even broken a sweat. You, on the other hand, could use a shower.

“Your pick.” You told him and he grinned. A blinding grin that would’ve taken your breath if you hadn’t already been wheezing like an old lady.

“Let’s get going then.” He said and you froze knowing what would come next. Robin took advantage of the moment you let your guard down and the next thing you knew, you were staring up at him from your place on the floor.

He was laughing at you, but you couldn’t hear it over the pounding of blood in your ears.

It took him a while to realize that you weren’t laughing with hm before he glanced down at you and his heart skipped a beat. 

Man, you were beautiful.

Your lips were wet from constantly licking them, hair splayed out beneath you and an attractive flush was creeping up your neck. You thought you looked like a panting hippo but in his eyes, he had never seen anyone more beautiful. 

There was an attraction between you, so powerful and magnetic that neither of you could resist and he leaned closer as your chest heaved. His hands rested on either side of your head and yours were gripping onto his arms.

His lips didn’t so much as brush against your when the door of the training room slammed open and in came the rest of the team. The two of you jumped from each other, almost like the electricity from before managed to shock you.

You mumbled something about hitting the showers before you practically ran out, groaning in embarrassment when you heard the team titter like 5th grade girls.

“I want pizza!” Robin called out as you ducked into the locker room, deciding that a cold shower might be the perfect remedy for your skin that still felt like it was on fire.

*** 

Four

It wasn’t surprising to any of you that M’gann would choose one of the most overrated, cheesy movies there was for movie night. Well, movie morning, since last night the team was called on an important mission.

Now while you had no problem just shutting your mouth and enjoying a romance movie once in a while, you were also stuck between a bunch of boys who made it their mission to make sure you wouldn’t.

So, every five minutes they took to shouting, hollering, groaning about why this wouldn’t make any sense in real life.

You tried throwing pillows at them, turning the volume up, even kicking them off the sofa but nothing helped.

‘If you can’t beat them, join them.’

“This guy is such a wuss.” You commented and Wally high-fived you for joining the team while M’gann complained about you betraying them. The movie was about a man who for some reason refused to go after a girl who very obviously liked him and he very obviously liked.

She flirted with him, and they even went on dates sometimes but when she asked him about having an actual relationship he said no and then proceeded to get upset that she was hanging out with other people.

Red flag much?

You found yourself watching the movie with an intent you hadn’t before, wondering if you’d have to go through that. If you’d ever be denied the love of someone who loved you because of his own pride or ignorance.

“If he likes her then he should just tell her.” You murmured wistfully, watching the two characters on the screen and not noticing the way the boys looked at you. Truth be told, you hadn’t even realized you were speaking.

“He should tell her, huh?” Asked Wally and you could tell from the teasing tone in your voice that he was trying to make a joke but you answered him honestly, not taking your eyes off the screen even once.

“Yeah, in my opinion the story will only get good once he stops beating around the bush and kisses her.”

Ignoring the way, the guys snickered at your answer you just slouched in your seat, rolling your eyes to the ceiling, “But the guy is such a wuss it’ll probably happen in the last 10 minutes so what’s the point.”

You didn’t pay attention to the rest of the movie, losing interest as the character continued to get more and more stupid. Instead, you opted for playing games on Robin’s wrist computer.

After the movie was over, everyone started to retire to their own rooms. You were eating some leftover pizza and took to cleaning the mess the rest of the team left behind. It was, after all, your turn on the chore list.

“You were right, you know.”

You jumped, dropping whatever it was in your hands. Robin winced at the bigger mess that you made before kneeling down and helping you clean it up.

“You’re so jumpy, one couldn’t even imagine that you go on covert missions every other night.” He teased, dodging the handful of popcorn you threw at him.

“You bother me enough on those missions alone don’t you think? Any reason that you’ve come to annoy me now? Or was it just to give me a heart attack?”

“You were right.” He said softly, throwing away the empty bottles of Gatorade and coke.

“I’m right about a lot of things Robin. You’re gonna have to be more specific.”

He grasped your wrist, stopping you from grabbing the stack of empty pizza boxes and you turned to him, the quip dying on your tongue from his serious expression.

He leaned close enough for you to see the reflection of yourself in his sunglasses. The proximity between the two of you was electrifying and addicting.

“The story will only get good when the guy stops beating around the bush and kisses the girl.”

You swallowed, hands settling on his and you let him pull you closer.

“Team to gather in the training room immediately.”

You sighed, pulling away from him, “Mood ruined.”

“Batman has the worst timing.” He grumbled and you giggled, grabbing his hand.

“Maybe next time, Boy Wonder.”

***

Five 

“It’s gonna be okay. It’s gonna be okay.” Robin chanted over and over again to you but you knew what was going to happen. His voice cracking and the tears flowing down his face was a good indicator as well. 

You bit your lip so hard it bled, grunting when you tried to move. It hurt. It hurt a blinding, searing, burning pain that made your vision turn blurry and the edges of your vision turn white. 

“I can’t move.” You whispered tearfully and he shook his head, tightening his hold on you. His grip hurt but you still let him cling onto you for you knew it would be the last time he could. 

The pain wouldn’t last long. 

“We can carry you.” 

“You don’t have the strength,” You told him softly, cupping his cheek to make him look at you. Blood was dripping down the side of your face and tears were streaming down your cheeks, “Even if you did, it hurts too much to move, Robin. You have to leave me here.” 

He shook his head stubbornly and against his control sobs began slipping past his lips and your heart clenched to hear him sound so heartbroken. But then again you felt the same way. He held onto you tighter and you caught a glimpse of the timer on his wrist. 

There wasn’t much left. 

“You have to go.” You told him again, “You are all that Earth has left. You have to go.”

“I can’t leave you.” 

Your body was wracking with sobs and you raised a bloody hand to his cheek, wiping away his tears to no avail, “I love you, please forgive me.” 

You turned to Kid Flash who was watching the two of you. He was crying as well; his chest was shaking and wavering and you tried to give him a brave smile but a sob broke through you. 

“Take him away from here.” 

Wally grabbed Robin and he struggled in his grip, trying to get to you, crying for you. He managed to push Wally’s arms off him to make a break for you. To tell you he loved you too. To kiss you for the first and last time. To say goodbye. 

But just as he reached you, Kid Flash grabbed him and super-sped away, all while Robin was crying in his arms. He saw your body receding, trapped against the wall where the guards had pierced you with an energy spear. 

The last thing he saw was your tearful smile and he thought you were the bravest to be smiling through so much pain. 

In the end, neither Kid Flash nor Robin made it out alive. 

The mothership exploded before either of them could escape. 

***

One 

Explosions felt a lot colder than you expected. 

All you felt was a cold breeze after the explosives went off and your eyes shot open, gasping for air. You recognized the ceiling of the cave and felt the cold sweat drip down your body. You didn’t know how or why but you knew one thing.

You had lived. 

Tears immediately sprang to your eyes and you couldn’t even pull yourself to sit upright before you started crying. Black Canary was at your side, pulling you into her arms as you sobbed, thanking whatever divine being that had been listening for helping you. 

You were alive. 

Your eyes screwed tightly shut as you just held onto her, feeling such overwhelming happiness that it felt heart-breaking. 

When you finally got the courage to open your eyes and see where you were, you saw your team staring back at you with concern on their faces. You knew then that you’d never take advantage of them again. You’d never take them for granted and you’d cherish them from now onwards. 

And then your teary eyes caught onto Robins figure who was the only one who had left the bed that they woke up in. Your chest just hurt at the sight of him, regretting the way you had sent him off but also knowing that there was no other way. 

So, you shakily pushed off Canary’s grip and on wobbling legs you stumbled towards him, slumping against his weak stance before grabbing his collar and slanting your lips on his.

Finally.

He responded almost immediately, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you closer. The kiss was sweet, but salty as your tears mixed on your lips. 

Your heart was full when you pulled away from him, leaning on his shoulder. His arms stayed around you, needing to feel you breathing against him. You met eyes with Wally’s wet ones and he sent you a shaky smirk, “Took you long enough.” 

You giggled tearfully, as Dick buried his head closer to your neck, and rubbing his back comfortingly, “The story was getting boring.” 

[theonewiththefanfics]

Because Hearts Get Broken (Part 1/3)

Synopsis: When your whole life you’ve been taught to push your feelings away, it’s hard to open up, even to the people you trust most. And sometimes what you give isn’t enough.

Pairing: Harry Styles x fem!Reader

Genre: angst

Warnings: sad. just angsty and sad. swearing; emotionally closed reader

Word count: 2904

Y/N had never been the kind of person who talks about her feelings. It didn’t matter if it was friends or family; her mindset was – they’re my problems, so you don’t have to worry your head about it.

        In relationships, it wasn’t any better, in fact, it was kinda worse. It was extremely difficult for the girl to open up to her partner, which in turn she’d let so many possible relationships pass her by. Not to mention, when she was in one, they slowly deteriorated because of her inability to share with them. Which is why it didn’t come as much of a surprise when it happened between her and Harry. 

        Somehow unconsciously Y/N had been almost preparing herself, preparing her heart for it to break. When he walked inside his place, she’d been there to prepare them a meal in. They’d both had a stressful couple of weeks with Harry starting off on a new album endeavour, while Y/N’s boss was practically threatening to rip her head off, as she scrambled to finish everything, even though the deadlines were months away.

        It just all kind of came crashing down on her when her boss suddenly called her up, telling her to rush back to the office, and when Y/N asked if it could wait until the morning, the ultimatum came that if she wanted her job, she’d do it then and there. 

        “Hey.” She hadn’t heard Harry come in, only noticed it when his arm wrapped around her shaking shoulders. “Hey, shh, come ‘ere.”

        Slowly, he laid the two of them down, letting her head be tucked beneath his chin, as his palm rubbed soothing circles on her back. “ ‘S gonna be okay, dove. ‘S gonna be alright. Come on, now.”

        They laid like that for about five minutes, until Y/N pushed her face away from Harry’s chest and laid her cheek there, taking in a few short, shaky breaths, and steadying herself by placing her palm on his chest and feeling the steady thuds of his heart. 

        “Wanna talk about it?” he muttered in her Y/H/C locks, placing a soft kiss to the crown of her head, but she sighed, shaking her head no.

        “ ‘S fine. Overreacted.”

        “You were sitting on the couch, crying and hyperventilating, dove. Obviously, something’s wrong.”

        “Harry,” Y/N let out a long breath. “Can you please just let it go? It’s nothing major. If it was, I’d tell you.”

        “Would you though?” The whisper went almost unnoticed, but Y/N did hear it, and it made her eyebrows furrow and push herself up from where they’d been nestled together.

        “What’s that supposed to mean?”

        “I mean.” Harry bit the inside of the cheek. “When is the last time you ever told me what’s bothering you? Like really, truly made you upset?”

        “What are you implying?” Y/N’s voice had gone steely, almost emotionless, as her brain pretty much screamed ‘it’s happening’.

        “How can I help you when you don’t let me in?” His gaze was pleading, as his hands grasped onto her cheeks.

        “You’re not supposed to.”

        “Pardon?”

        Y/N sighed and stood up from the couch, letting his touch fall away. “You’re not supposed to. They’re my problems to deal with, not yours, so you’re not supposed to help me. And there’s nothing to help me with.”

        “Do you not trust me?”

        “Of course, I trust you,” she scoffed as if it was the most ridiculous question in the world. “What does that have to do with anything?”

        “How are we supposed to be in a relationship, if you don’t trust me?”

        “I dunno,” Y/N whispered hugging herself. Sometimes she hated how her brain worked, but it was inevitable, right? It always came to this, so why not be the bad guy in the situation. “Maybe we’re not supposed to then.”

Harry was more than stunned at her reply. Not once during their relationship, he'd thought that her immediate reaction to a problem would be to immediately dismiss their love. "You - you don't mean that."

"Well," Y/N sniffled wiping at her cheeks where new tears were trailing down, "maybe I do. Maybe this whole thing was a mistake. I mean they do say the first year is spent with rose-coloured glasses on, right? 'S time to take 'em off."

        “So that’s it? You’re giving up just like that?”

        “What do you want me to do?” Y/N exasperated throwing her hands up. “It’s the way I am, and I can’t change that. And if you can’t accept it, then yeah, maybe I am giving up just like that.”

        Harry shook his head in disbelief. “I –,” he stammered, “I can’t believe this.”

        “What do you want from me, Harry?”

        “To fight!” He was practically yelling at this point, hoping to see some kind of emotion on Y/N’s face. “To let me in! To – to – fuck! To start trusting me!”

        “I do trust you!”

        “But not enough to trust me with your heart.”

        A deafening silence fell over both of them because without needing a confirmation, Harry knew he’d struck gold. God, how he wished he hadn’t, but the numb expression Y/N's face morphed into told him enough.

        “I’m giving you what I can.” Y/N’s voice was quiet, resolute. “And if that’s not something you can accept, then this is it.”

        Now Harry was the silent one. But sometimes you don’t need words to say everything you mean. 

        “Okay then.” She nodded, went to the mantlepiece and took her clutch. “I’ll see ya around, I guess.”

        And with that Y/N walked out of Harry’s apartment without a glance back. 

***

        Two and a half months later and he still couldn’t understand how everything had gone so wrong. He was at the New Year party, and Y/N was there too, courtesy of Sarah, who was their mutual friend and hosted it each year. This one was a lot more intimate, seeing as the pandemic, though contained, was still raging on, so only the closest and most important people in her life had been invited. Sarah'd been actually the one who introduced the two. Well, more so given them a shove in the right direction. A literal one at that.

        The night had been absolute chaos and became an even bigger one when Y/N entered his life, Harry recalled. Drinks were flowing, bodies were moving in an erratic rhythm, most of them completely unaware of how the music boomed while voices shouted the incorrect lyrics and glasses clinked as everyone celebrated the upcoming year, buzzing with excitement as they waited for the countdown. That’s when Sarah, pulling a woman by her arm stormed towards Harry and pushed her into his chest.

        “Do not let her leave your sight!” she’d hollered over the music, as Harry blinked at his drummer. “And you!” Sarah pointed at the woman, who giggled, hiding behind her champagne glass and slinking further down Harry’s frame, so much so, he had to grab onto her armpits otherwise she would fall. “Behave for at least five minutes! I need to check up on Mitch before he decides vodka would be a good addition and completely destroys the room.”

        With that Sarah was gone, brown hair swishing in a high ponytail, leaving Harry confused and concerned as this stranger snickered behind Sarah’s back, showing her tongue like a child would.

        “Umm,” he started not really knowing what to do. “You alright there?”

        “ ‘M Y/N.” She leaned up with as much grace as a drugged-up cat, spun around to face him and extended her hand to him, and he took it, giving it a firm shake. “And I might be a lil’ bit drunk.”

        A chuckle escaped his lips. “You don’t say?”

        “I do.” Y/N nodded confidently about her statement as she swayed on her feet. Harry had to grab her by the shoulder for the woman to remain somewhat upright. “And when I’m drunk, I thrive on chaos.”

        “Is that why Sarah shoved you to me so I can babysit you?”

        “See, she just doesn’t appreciate me and my talents. She thinks that I’m ‘unreliable’.” Y/N put the word in quotation marks, and in doing so, half her champagne spilt out of the flute. “And she thinks I need ‘supervision’.” There went the other half. “Honestly, it’s Sarah that needs to be looked after. It’s not me that set the curtains on fire.”

        But the look on her face told Harry something different, and a smile bloomed on his face. “You set the curtains on fire?”

        “I just told you, I didn’t.”

        “Yes, well, your face is telling me a different story.”

        Instantly Y/N facepalmed. “Stupid face. Can’t keep in check. Listen, the curtains were just…” She waved her hand around. “In the way of the flame. ‘S not my fault they’re made from such flammable material. Should’ve gotten more fire-resistant curtains, if you ask me.”

        “Note taken – don’t let you near anything that can be set on fire or is fire.”

        Y/N scoffed and gave Harry a side-eye. “As if you can tell me what to do. I shouldn’t even be talking to you.”

        “And why's that?”

        “Stranger danger.” Y/N wagged her free index finger in Harry’s face accentuating each syllable.

        “Well then, let’s not be strangers.” He extended his hand just as Y/N had and waited until she took it. “ ‘M name’s Harry.”

        “Good to meet you, Harry. Now, Sarah said nothing about not letting me dance, so come on! I love this song!” she exclaimed, making Harry throw his head back in laughter as she dragged him to the middle of the room, bodies grinding against them, but it didn’t really matter. Not when Y/N made Harry feel as if it was just the two of them in the world.

        “Do you now?”

        “Yes! Especially when he does the ‘da – dananana da – dananana’ part.” Her eyes went wide with excitement and pride. “Sarah’s in this song as well! She's the drummer!”

His eyebrow quirked up in amusement. Y/N clearly had no idea who she was talking to, and he was kind of loving her for it. Most of the time, as flattering as it was, it could become quite taxing when people recognised you with every step of the way. He wasn’t really allowed to have his smile leave his face, nor was he allowed to stay too lost in his thoughts, needing to be on constant alert if someone asked something.

But Y/N seemed to not care, and something in Harry told him – she wouldn’t care about it if she knew the truth.

        “Wanna hear a secret?”

        Y/N gasped, eyes twinkling in the disco ball light. “Of course! I love secrets.”

        “I’m Harry!”

        “I know you’re Harry. You said it already.”

        Her confused face made his smile widen even more. “No, I mean I’m Harry. Harry Styles. This is my song.”

        And then it dawned on her inebriated brain. “Ooh. You’re Harry Styles!”

        “Yeah.” 

        “Good for you then!” And she put up her hand in a high-five, and he couldn’t leave her just hanging like that, belly-shaking laughter erupting from him before he weaved their fingers together and spun her around.

        That night had been one of the best New Year’s he’d ever had. Throughout the hour before the clock struck 12, she’d sobered up enough that when Harry asked if he could kiss her, she was coherent and could say yes. It’d been the best kiss of their lives by that point.

        But now, seeing Y/N walk around Sarah’s apartment a smile on her face that he recognised to be fake, and laughter ringing in his ears that he knew wasn’t true, made him look back at that night and wonder if she’d been truly happy then.

        She definitely seemed to have been, fuck, Harry hoped she was happy for at least some of it; that when Y/N said she was alright, she’d truly meant it, otherwise, he had no idea what he’d do with himself, but in all honesty, despite the fallout between the two, what he wished was for her to come back. To give him the slightest glimpse into what worried her. That would be enough. 

        In the beginning, Harry supposed, it was his own fault. He’d thought Y/N was just strong, she was so level-headed that whenever something was wrong, it was tackled immediately and righted that exact second, but in truth, it was just hiding, putting on a performance and living through a smile that was a complete lie. 

        He saw Sarah lean into Y/N and whisper something in her ear before her head snapped in Harry’s direction, Y/E/C eyes meeting his. He then watched her let out a breath, give Sarah a small smile and look at him once more before approaching, Harry’s own back straightening out as she opened the balcony door and entered his space. 

        She was a vision, a black and gold glitter romper covering her body, cinched at the waist with a solid gold-colour metal band, while the sleeves fluttered off in a ‘Morticia Addams’ style, as Y/N liked to call it, with her hair out of the way of her face in a simple knot at the base of her neck. Easy to make and easy to take out.

        “Bobby pins are the creations of the Devil,” she’d muttered one night after they’d gone to some Hollywood event. Harry couldn't even remember what it'd been for, most of his focus on making sure his date was alright.

One by one she'd untwisted and twirled the metal pins out of her head. “Fucking, scraping my brain from the outside of my skull.”

        Harry had chuckled, untying the lace front of his blouse style shirt. “Wanna massage?”

        The affirmative groan made him grin like a child on Christmas.

        Y/N was the one to break the silence, after having her eyes rake over his own form. A fitted chequered suit paired with a simple dress shirt and chequered moccasins. One of the tamer looks for him, but he wasn’t feeling very festive this year. 

        “Hey.” 

        Harry sighed, putting his hands in his pockets. “Hi.”

        God, how had everything become so fucking awkward between them?

        “How,” she cleared her throat, “how are you?”

        “Honestly?” Harry wanted to spit out the ‘I’m fine’, the line that was so overused by her it’d lost its meaning, but he couldn’t. He’d always been an open book, especially with Y/N, so he told her the truth. “I’m hurting.”

        “Harry…” Her eyes met the floor unable to hold his green gaze.

        “Every day I wake up, and I’m in pain. And it’s not getting easier. And it won’t. Not for a long while.”

        “I’m sorry.”

        “I don’t want you to be sorry.” He laughed even though he didn’t mean it. “I just wanted you to talk to me. You know I’d never judge you.”

        “It’s not about that…”

        “Then what is it?” Harry snapped. “Because I’m at a fucking loss here. Have been for the past two and a half months.”

        “It’s not easy when…” Y/N actually bit down on her tongue to not let the words out. She took in a calm, collected breath; then she continued. “It’s not easy to open up like you want me to when my whole life I’ve been taught to just push it down. Push it away, forget about it. I don’t know a different life. That’s my normal, that’s what I know. I know you wouldn’t have judged me, you’re not that kind of a person. But it’s not even about that. It’s… it’s… why couldn’t you have just left everything at ‘I’m fine’?”

        “Because I don’t want to be fine,” he said, sad eyes looking right through her, right through to Y/N’s being. “I – I wanna be great, and ecstatic and fucking exhilarated or hurting or sad, even devastated. I want to feel things. And I want to share them with the person I trust most. I wanna share them with you. And I want you to share your emotions with me too. It’s not your job to carry the weight of the world on your own. That’s what a partner is there for.”

        Y/N broke away from Harry’s eyes given how her own were now lined with tears that threatened to slip down her cheeks. She sniffled, using the sleeve of her romper to press against her nose. 

        New Years. When the previous one had started off with so much love and hope and laughter and the new one seemed to only show it had tears and heartache ahead. God, this was the worst holiday in existence.

        “Ten, nine, eight,” the people inside counted down.

        “Y/N, please.” One last try. He had to.

        “Seven, six, five.”

        She just shrugged. “I don’t know how to be different."

        “Three, two, one! Hap–“

        “Happy New Year, Harry.” Y/N leaned up and pressed a lingering kiss against his cheek. “I hope you find someone who can love you the way you deserve to be loved.”

        With hands in her pockets, she retreated leaving him standing alone on the balcony, but right as she was about to close the sliding door, he spoke up.

        “I had.”

        That made Y/N spin around, cold air hitting her face just as harshly as the truth that spilt past his lips.

        “Only she didn’t trust that I loved her the same.”

Tags (crossed out wouldn’t take):

Forever tags: @lumelgy @palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @breezy1415 @crazy--me @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @s-c-a-r-e-d-po-t-t-e-r @reblogger-not-a-blogger @m-a-t-91 @dalilx @i-need-a-hero-i-need-a-loki @maladaptive-ninja-returns @averyrogers83 @in-the-end-im-still-trash @gallifreyansass @dewy-biitch @avxgers @unlikelygalaxygiver @magicwithaknife @ollyoxenfrees @bnhvrdy @tvwhoresblog @celebsimagines @thatkindofgurl​ @sj-thefan​ @teenwolflover28 @lestersglitterglue​ @im-squished​

A/N: Part 2? maybe??

P.S. my tags are always open :)

[ayatosmlktea]

Late Night Devil

A/N: This is my fic for the Citrus Dome Server collab! I’ve spent many hours crying over it, I hope you enjoy it! Make sure you check out the other pieces of the collab too because they’re written by amazing writers!! @lemonlordleah-shinzawa-kitten​

Read the other fics for the collab here!

Word count: 5.7k

Thank you @suckersuki for saving my ass and making this beautiful banner 💕

 Worship has always been a part of your daily routine. Each season you place the fruits of your labor at the altar. Every day you pray. It’s human nature, seeking answers from the Gods. But you never expected one to answer…

Warm summer breeze tickled at your face, your hair flowing freely in front of your face making your nose itch. Tucking a stray strand behind your ear, you tune out the conversation your parents are having in favour of focusing your attention on the pavement ahead of you. Your eyes stinging and heavy from the lack of sleep you’ve been getting since the breakup. A bitter aftertaste stings the back of your throat as the events replay in your mind. The breakup had been sudden, although you couldn’t say you were completely caught off guard. Regardless of how underwhelming it had been, the way you’d been humiliated so carelessly had hurt your pride.

As you approached closer to the temple, a strange feeling of anxiety crawled into your stomach and pushed down heavily on your chest. It was unlike you to feel such unease coming to the temple of the gods, normally the divine power helped bring a sense of peace into your life.

Today was another story it seemed, maybe it was the fact that your emotions were all over the place and the pain and hate you felt slowly bubbling up over being cheated on were muddling with the rest of your feelings. Warm orange rays of sunlight slowly begin to peek over the tops of the mountains, shrouding the forest in a comforting glow. The sky is light with pinks and oranges, the dark blue night sky slowly fading away as a light cerulean takes over. It was barely six in the morning, but your family had always been adamant about being early to bring your offerings for the gods.

Nature seemed to come alive around you, birds chirping, flowers blooming with lush petals and vibrant colours. It was the summer solstice, a period of time where the gods’ presence was closer to the human world than any other time of the year.

However, despite it being such a juvinating day you were feeling anything but jovial. The basket resting on your arm was nearly filled to the brim with seasonal fruits that you had picked earlier that morning. The better quality the offerings and the more abundant they were signified a better season and prosperity blessed upon your family from the gods.

“Y/n what’s the matter?” your mother asks, eyeing you suspiciously.

“Nothing, just tired” you mumble hoping that she’ll stop questioning you before it starts.

“Well make sure you don’t walk into the temple like that, we can’t afford to attract any negativity this season” she scolds, something you’ve heard since becoming your family’s link between your world and the God’s.

When it had happened you were instantly filled with dread, the wellbeing of your entire family rested on your shoulders. Four times a year you needed to make sure that your emotions were in check, a single negative thought even for a fleeting second would have an impact on your family’s future until the next solstice. The gods were very picky when it came to their offerings, being the so-called spokesperson for your family meant that for the entire time you were in the temple you couldn’t think of anything else.

One minor distraction was enough to send a year’s worth of bad luck onto your family. You had never once messed up in the ten years that you’d been doing this, but it never stopped your parents from reminding you incessantly that you needed to be in the right state of mind. It was annoying, but you’d gotten used to it over the years.

Today however, you had little patience with your mother. Resisting the urge to roll your eyes you give her a tight smile and nod, returning your gaze ahead of you.

The sun was beginning to rise higher in the sky, light pinks and oranges gradually fading into a light blue. The ruby red pillars of the temple gradually came into view, peeking through thick tangled branches.

The closer you got to the temple, the heavier the lump of dread feels in your stomach. It’s so close to swallowing you whole that you can feel the bile creeping up your throat. Sticky black fingers made of tar wrap themselves around your throat. The second you step foot onto temple grounds you can feel the atmosphere change.

A harsh warm breeze whips against your hair, running along your exposed arms and face. Almost like a warning, you need to get yourself together. Shoving down every negative feeling that’s made itself home in your body you take a few deep breaths and focus on calming your emotions.

From the corner of your eye you can see your parents give you a wary side eye but you flash them a reassuring smile. You can do this. You’ve done it a thousand times before, one stupid break up will not be the reason you bring bad fortune upon your family. You’d never hear the end of it.

As you walk up the narrow winding steps to the shrine you can feel the spiritual energy radiating from the soles of your feet up to the top of your head. The concerned gazes of your parents burn holes into the back of your head. Not only were you more in tune with the realm of the gods during the solstice, but the energy of the earth as a whole intensified as well.

Deep breaths in and out. Focus on the wicker handle of the basket digging uncomfortably into your arm. Anything to distract your mind from thinking about finding Bakugou kissing Cami-Nope.

Your grip around the basket handle tightens, small pieces of it begin to poke at your skin giving you something to focus your attention on.

When you finally reach the top of the stairs, your rage has finally simmered down enough to allow you to ease your death grip on the basket.

A heavy hand on your shoulder draws your attention up to your father’s solemn eyes. You were usually good at hiding your emotions, the fact that everything you were feeling now was on full display was irritating you to no end.

“I’m fine!” You reassure them once more but you can tell they don’t believe you. You can’t blame them, you haven’t told them anything about your relationship ending and you don’t intend to either. You knew you were acting differently these last few weeks but you didn’t need anyone else knowing about the humiliating way things had ended between you and Bakugou.

Your parents accompany you into the temple but being the spiritual link for your family, only you are allowed to enter the inner rooms which host the shrines for each god. In the beginning it had been exciting to you, but now years later it was beginning to feel like a chore. It didn’t matter where you were, four times a year you needed to come home and pray for good health and wealth and prosperity. You pass by Izuku on your way into the room, his presence was usually calming but the sight of him now only served to remind you of Bakugou. Forcing a polite smile on your lips you give him a small nod of acknowledgement before continuing on your way towards the altars.

The prayers had gone well, at least you had assumed they had. You had no problems with the gods, other than Enji who usually gave you a hard time regardless of how good of a mood you were in so you didn’t take it personally.  Grabbing the empty basket you exit the room and make your way outside. Finally able to let your emotions pour out once more, you find yourself becoming fixated on the onslaught of hatred, revenge, and hurt that were lying dormant under your skin. You wanted revenge, you wanted to humiliate him the way he’d hurt you. 

You didn’t understand why he’d done it, you had been under the false presumption that your relationship was fine. If it hadn’t been for Bakugou cheating on you in your own apartment, with the girl he’d told you so many times NOT to worry about you might have felt less bitter. But there was nothing that could quench your desire for revenge other than making him regret what he’d done to you in a way that would stick with him forever.

Blinking out of your daydream you realize that you’ve wandered into a part of the temple that you’ve never been to before. It’s darker and the energy feels heavier compared to the other sections. Your feet seem to move of their own will as you approach a door that looks as though it hasn’t been opened in ages. You expect to find it locked, but much to your surprise the handle twists open with no resistance. 

The room is even darker than the hallway, a small window being the only source of light casting a gloomy look throughout it. Along the back wall of the room is what you think is another altar, except as you approach it it’s covered in dust. It’s apparent to you that no one has been in this room for a long time. Cautiously you wipe away the dust covering the plaque on the front of the altar.

“God of vengeance, Dabi” The second the name leaves you lips the door slams shut making you jump in shock. Your heart is pounding in your chest, and every nerve is screaming at you to run.

“Lost, dollface?” A voice you’ve never heard before but feels so strangely familiar at the same time makes you nearly jump out of your skin and whip around to face them. You had been facing the door ready to walk out, no one had been in here before you so where did the man standing in front of you come from.

You’re suddenly so dumbstruck that you can’t even formulate a response, your eyes are too busy taking in his unusual appearance. Spiky black hair, the bluest eyes you’ve ever seen with patches of his skin on most of his face and neck that are stapled together. Your eyes travel down farther and notice that not only is his face badly burnt but a significant portion of his body is.

The energy you’re getting from his presence is overwhelmingly not human, but it’s not demonic either. At least, you’re fairly sure it isn’t. Meaning that the person standing before you was a god.

“Don’t look so shocked, you did wander in here didn’t you? What were you expecting to find?”

“Who are you?” The question feels stupid of you to ask.

“Shouldn’t you know that already?” Your mind is racing with a hundred different things to say, but none of them make it past your lips. Something about him is different from the rest of the gods you’ve met before. There’s what feels like an underlying evil in him despite being a god.

“What’s on your mind doll? It’s obviously important enough to be thinking about while you’re in the presence of a God” His coy smile and low voice laced with honey and temptation make you want to answer him even though you know you shouldn’t.

“Why do you care?” Raising an eyebrow questioningly, a tiny voice at the back of your mind begins to scold you for speaking to a god so casually. Not only could he clearly incinerate you in a flash but he could also influence the fate of your family’s fortune. But you couldn’t be bothered to give a shit. For the last decade of your life you’ve spent it dedicated to bringing your parents good fortune only to end up with your own misfortune. You knew you were pushing it, you knew that one slip up and you’d never hear the end of it. But the rage bubbling it’s way slowly up your body almost feels like it’s growing stronger in his presence.

“I always care about pretty little things who wander up to MY altar with such negative energy.”

“Your altar? Funny how I’ve never heard of you before. Can’t be that important if your altar is blocked off from the rest of the temple. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m leaving” Turning on your heel you start walking back to the door hoping that you’ll be able to leave before digging yourself a deeper grave.

“Now now, is that any way to speak to a god?” Within seconds the atmosphere changes, andBlue flames sprout up around you blocking you from leaving the room. They’re hotter than any fire you’ve ever been near before, you don’t even need to be standing directly in front of them to feel how much heat they radiate. Dabi’s eyes are glowing with such an intense gaze of lust in your eyes that it works its way under your skin.

It doesn’t take you long to understand why his shrine had been locked off from the rest of the altars. Dabi might have been a god but there was nothing heavenly about him. Gradually the smell of smoke began to fill your lungs in an unpleasant way despite nothing in the room burning.

“Wanna try that again? Maybe a little nicer this time huh?” Dabi’s body was right behind yours, his lips ghosting the shell of your ear. Hot breath hitting against you making you shiver involuntarily.

“Don’t you have better things to worry about?”

“In case you haven’t noticed, you’re standing in front of the god of vengeance. The one god who can help you work out this little problem you’ve got going on”

“Why do you want to help me so bad?”

“I like to think of myself as a generous god” He jokes but you can already tell that Dabi is anything but  generous. His expression changes when you don’t lighten up at his attempt to change the mood of the conversation.

“What can I say, I love a good revenge story. It doesn’t hurt if they’re not bad to look at either”

Sighing, you begin to mull over his proposal in your mind. You can’t deny that it would be just a little satisfying to have a god on your side. It was petty, the dumbest kind of revenge that anyone could plot for but the images of Bakugou making out with someone who wasn’t you in your own bed no less were branded permanently in your mind. Maybe summoning Dabi was a blessing in disguise, besides, he was a god after all. It wasn’t like he was going to ask you for your soul.

“Fine, what do you want in exchange?”You figured the most he probably wanted was a bigger offering next season.

“We’ll discuss that when it comes up”

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。..·

You weren’t even sure why Dabi had decided to waste his time in the human world. In his own words he was bored of being in his own realm and figured that sticking around your “depressed ass” would give him some form of entertainment.

Thankfully you didn’t live with your parents anymore, you weren’t sure how you were going to explain having a random man they’d never seen before stuck to your side twenty-four hours a day. In all honesty, you didn’t know why he’d been so interested in helping you get revenge on Bakugou but there wasn’t any need for you to question it. He was the god of vengeance after all.

Even if this did seem like a small and petty reason to help you out.

The first week you had been so caught in helping Dabi adjust to human life that you’d almost forgotten why he was there in the first place. You would have thought that for a god he’d have been at least somewhat competent at learning how to work something as simple as the shower.

You definitely hadn’t expected him to be standing in the bathtub naked, with the cockiest smirk on his face while you yelped and covered your eyes, willing with every fiber in your body for your heart to stop racing.

“Could you at least cover yourself before calling me in here?” You complain, still shielding your eyes as you walk over to turn on the shower for him.

“Can’t you just use your godly powers or whatever to just do it for you?” Mumbling mostly to yourself, you adjust the temperature before hurrying out of the bathroom, trying not to think about his dick and how badly you would’ve gotten on your knees for him if he had asked.

“That would be a waste of my godly powers then, don’t you think?” 

You don’t even need to look at him to see the cocky smirk on his face. Slamming the bathroom door shut behind you, you rush back into your room hoping that he at least possesses enough common sense to know how to turn the shower off.

The following days go by with Dabi finding a new way to tease you, whether it was walking around the house shirtless or him walking in on you taking a shower. To say that you were up to your neck with the desire to have him fuck you senseless one minute and wanting to strangle the life out of him the next was an understatement. But according to Dabi, once you had both verbally agreed on the deal you’d made he couldn’t leave until the job was finished. 

Meaning, that until you got revenge on Bakugou, Dabi was going to be sticking around. Throughout the time that you spent together, Dabi had told you more than you thought you would get out of him. How he’d gotten his scars, why his altar had been separated from the others. As much as people needed vengeance, praying to a god as powerful as Dabi meant that in the wrong hands his powers could very well cause irreversible damage. Not that he had a problem with it, but the priests had decided long ago that his altar needed to be kept away from vengeful hearts. 

Until you came along of course, he’d immediately noticed your energy the second you had stepped foot in the temple. No matter how hard you tried to conceal your feelings, Dabi had noticed them and led you straight to his altar. You had been a little mad at first, having been so easily caught trapped but the more you thought about it the less you cared. Besides, you were beginning to enjoy his company around your empty apartment. 

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。..·

Finally, after almost three weeks of putting up with him,  the opportunity to get back at Bakugou presented itself.

“Have you ever been clubbing?” you ask over breakfast that morning.

Leaning back in his chair, Dabi’s curious eyes meet yours.

“What are you planning?”

“Bakugou’s best friend is having his birthday party at this club and he’s probably going to be there too. You don’t have to come with me if you don’t want to. I can find someone else if you’re uncom-”

“I’m not uncomfortable. That’s what I’m here for right?”

“Well I was just asking since you’re like, what, a couple centuries old? It might be weird to go dancing with all these young people” you flash him an innocent smile at his unamused glare.

“Last time I checked your eyes were practically begging me to fuck you” He retorts making you choke on your coffee. Smirking in victory he leans in closely to whisper in your ear.

“Try harder next time doll”  

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。..·

The rest of the day flew by and the closer the time got for you to leave, the more anxious you felt. You couldn’t help but start to doubt everything about your plan for revenge. For all you knew, Bakugou could care less about who you were hooking up with as long as he was getting his dick wet.

“Are you doubting me?” Dabi teased as you make your way to the club.

“No, but you don’t know what he’s like.”

You didn’t need to wait long to get in the club, your tight black dress and Dabi’s “charm” were more than enough to allow you to skip the line and get in. His hand never leaves your lower back  as you make your way through the crowd and towards the bar. The two of you down a few shots, the alcohol makes its way through your veins and before long you’re feeling pleasantly buzzed. 

Grabbing Dabi’s hand you drag him to the dance floor, it doesn’t take him long to get the hang of grinding up on you and for once you’re not mad about him being a tease. His hand is firmly resting on your hip, you’re a bit more tipsy than you had wanted to get but the song the dj is playing is setting the mood making you hot and bothered. When Dabi’s lips start kissing their way along the side of your neck you’re more than willing to give him more space to leave a few marks.

Your eyes are closed as your bodies grind together and you don’t notice the way Bakugou is glaring with murderous intent at Dabi. Just as you’re starting to loosen up a distance voice snaps you out of your trance.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Opening your eyes you find Bakugou standing in front of you with his arms crossed.

“What does it look like I’m doing. I’m dancing” the song that were dancing to ends and another more upbeat one follows.

“With him? I knew your standards were low but I didn’t think you were that desperate” He snorts, your blood instantly boils making the back of your neck prickle with rage.

“Hmm, let’s take this outside. What do you say?” Dabi asks with a playful tone in his voice.

“Whatever” Bakugou grumbles before shoving his way through the crowd of drunk dancing bodies.

Dabi and Bakugou confronting each other was something you hadn’t thought was going to happen when you’d agreed to let Dabi help you get your revenge on him. But as luck would have it, here you were standing in an alley outside of the club with Dabi in front of you and Bakugou glaring daggers into him.

“Oi, I don’t know who the fuck you think you are but she’s mine.”

“Yours? Aren’t you the dickhead who cheated on her? Why would she want you back” Dabi’s laugh isn’t teasing like the ones you’ve heard before. It’s condescending, and you start to feel an energy you’ve never felt before radiating off of him.

“Tell me, dollface.” His voice is deeper and when he turns to look back at you his eyes are darker with what you hope is  “Is this mutt really the one you want fucking you right now?” Bakugou’s jaw twitches and he clenches his fist ready to swing at Dabi.

“Tch, down boy” he sighs and just like that Bakugou’s body is slammed down to the cement. You’ve never seen Dabi use his powers before and it does nothing to calm the raging storm of lust about to boil over in your.

“Now, if you don’t mind I’m going to pick up where I left off before you rudely interrupted.” Your wide eyes are still focused on Bakugou’s form kneeling behind Dabi, until he grabs your jaw with one hand and backs you up against the wall.

“I’d much rather you focus on me than him” He mumbles, giving you a sly smile before claiming your lips in a heated kiss. His lips are so much better than you imagined, soft and yet rough at the same time. The cold staples on the corner of his lips lightly scrape against your skin but you don’t care. Sliding your hands underneath his shirt you wrap your arms around his waist, pulling him in closer to you.

Your nails clawing at his back hard enough to make him hiss and bite down harshly on the sensitive skin where your neck and shoulders met. If your brain wasn’t so muddled with pleasure it might have been more painful but it only sent sparks throughout your whole body. It didn’t matter how tightly you grabbed him and pulled him closer into you, it wasn’t enough.

 Dabi hooked your right leg over his hip, the other hand trailing up the back of your neck tangling his hand in your hair and pulling it back. The feeling of his lips sucking dark marks onto your flesh elicited a loud wanton moan from your lips. Your fingers buried themselves in his raven locks tugging his head up so you can slip your tongue between his lips. The hand holding your thigh tightens as a carnal growl makes its way up his throat.

Kissing a god was nothing like you’d ever experienced before, it felt like with each kiss he was stealing the air right from your lungs.

If you were being completely honest with yourself, Dabi could have ended your life right then and there and you would have let him. Throughout the past few weeks he’s been living with you, you’ve pictured this in your mind countless times. But you’d never thought that there was a chance in hell that it was ever going to happen. Yet here you were, back scraping against the brick wall of the club’s alley with Dabi’s fingers digging into your hips in a way that would leave their mark there for days.

His lips moved against yours like he was a man starved of touch and affection, his teeth bit harshly against your bottom lip pulling a half strangled moan from your throat. His hands, which felt like they were growing hotter every time he brushed against your bare skin, tightened their hold on your hips to grind you against his dick. The sharp hiss he lets out goes straight to your already throbbing pussy, something about knowing that you’re the one making him feel like  this and lose control of himself just makes you want to push him farther and see how long it’ll take to break him.

Reaching down between your bodies you grab his hips trying to bring them closer to yours for more much needed friction. The action makes Dabi chuckle against your lips.

“Impatient aren’t we princess?” Dabi tries to come off as nonchalant but he wants it just as much you do. He’s been holding out for weeks, at first he just enjoyed making you flustered, pushing all your buttons to see how you’d react. But the longer he spent with you the more his feelings turned from curiosity to genuine interest and the small embers of lust that lay dormant in his gut had erupted into a fire that was rapidly consuming him.

It was dirty and rushed, teeth clacking together as you both tried to bring your bodies closer together until there was not an inch of space left between you. Your dress was now barely hanging on to your hips, but you couldn’t care less because the only thing on your mind was feeling Dabi inside you NOW. Rolling yourself against his dick the best you can while having one leg on the ground, you can’t help but smirk when Dabi moans into your mouth. His hand slides down your stomach, fingers teasing your thighs where the hem of your dress meets your exposed skin before inching closer to where you want him most. His arm sets your leg down in favour of spreading your legs wider for him, tugging your dress up even higher to give himself a better view.

“So fucking wet and I haven’t even touched you yet” Dabi laughs in your ear, enjoying the way you inhale sharply as his fingers circle your puffy clit.

“Dabi, don’t be a tease” you shoot back, trying to sound as dominant as you can but instead it comes out as a breathy whine. The contrast of his soft top lip combined with the roughness of his bottom lip against your neck was making you dizzy.  It was the perfect combination of pain and pleasure, and it was only serving to turn you on even more knowing that you had provoked him into doing this.

“You know, I was going to fuck you anyway but don’t you think it’s a little more vengeful if I show your charming ex how to really make you scream?” You were so distracted by the feeling of finally letting out your sexual frustrations that you’d forgotten all about Bakugou who was still under Dabi’s influence.

Before you can answer him, Dabi slides two fingers into you with ease curling them at just the right angle to have you panting against his neck. His movements are anything but gentle and he gives you no time to adjust to his pace as he works his fingers in and out of your dripping  pussy. Your hands wrap around his biceps, allowing you to have some sort of stability while he’s finger fucking you fast enough to leave you light headed.

“Such a fucking tight pussy you’ve got doll” he chuckles breathlessly. His thumb nudges against your clit tightening the coil of white heat rapidly building up in your lower stomach. His fingers are hitting against your sweet spot so perfectly, every thrust knocking the air out of your lungs in breathy moans as he increases his pace.

 The wet sloppy sounds of his fingers in you are only heightening your arousal. Dabi’s lips start sucking against the space between your neck and shoulders, making you tilt your head to give him better access. You’re so close you can feel yourself coming undone, without warning Dabi bites down hard enough to break the skin sending you towards your first orgasm.  You don’t even care that you’re moaning loud enough for anyone to hear you, Dabi’s fingers don’t stop giving you no chance to recover.

“Come on princess, I know you’ve got another one for me. Cum on my fucking fingers like a good slut” his rough voice right against your ear does nothing to help bring you down from your high. You’re helpless to do anything but let yourself become putty in his hands as another orgasm leaves you breathless and nearly sobbing against him.

You whine at the feeling of his fingers pulling out of you, but you don’t have to wait long before he turns your body around to face the wall,  bending you over and unzipping his jeans to free his aching cock.

“Remember when I said we’d discuss what I wanted in exchange for helping you out?” he asks, his voice raw with arousal as he slides the tip of his cock against your dripping folds. You can barely remember what he’s talking about, your mind is so focused on wanting to feel him inside you that you can barely keep track of what he’s saying.

“I think this is a pretty good exchange don’t you think?” Not giving you a chance to respond he grabs your hip with one hand and tangles your hair with the other while sheathing his cock fully inside you with one sharp thrust. Your nails dig into the brick wall as you fail to bite back a scream. He’s so thick that you can feel the veins of his cock rubbing against your walls with each thrust. The hand fisting your hair tightens its grip, pulling your head back towards him. Dabi’s hot breaths are hitting against the base of your neck, the feeling of him inside you is making your head spin with pleasure.

“Go on, tell  him who’s fucking you this good” Dabi’s hips are slapping against your ass hard enough to bruise but you could care less.

“You are” you whimper but it’s not good enough.

“Say my fucking name” he growls in your ear before reaching down to rub hard circles against your clit.

“F-fuck! Dabi! You feel so fucking good” you cry out as another orgasm washes over you making your legs feel like jelly.  You’re almost certain that anyone within a two block radius can hear how loud you’re screaming but you don’t care. Before you can process what’s happening Dabi pulls out of you flipping you back around to face him and lifting you up. Wrapping your legs around his waist he slowly pushes back into your hot walls.

“Such a greedy cunt you have, dollface” he grunts and you can’t do anything except nod. Your back hits the wall as Dabi’s hips rut against yours, the new angle allowing him to hit your g-spot with every thrust. His hand wraps around your throat, restricting your air flow and making your pussy clench around him.

“You like it when I choke you? Such a nasty little whore” he laughs, tightening the grip he has around your neck until the edges of your vision start to blacken.

“Your pussy’s so good I might have to keep you” You’re not even sure how he’s still managing to speak in full sentences, if there was anything that reminded you that Dabi was a god it was his insane stamina. He’d already fucked you through three orgasms without being anywhere near cumming. Not only that, but the force he was using the fuck you with was sure to leave you unable to walk for a week.

Your thighs tighten around his waist as he begins rubbing your clit once again making you whine loudly.

“Too much”

“You can take it baby” His fingers show you no mercy causing you to throw your head back against the wall. Your hands push against his shoulders trying to move him away but Dabi is a lot stronger than you gave him credit for.

“Cum on my fucking cock, you can do it. Show him what a good little slut you are for me” Your fingers are gripping his hair so hard you’re sure you’ve pulled some out as you cum around his dick, your eyes struggling to stay open as you feel liquid splashing against your thighs.

“That’s my girl, squirt all over my cock” His fingers grip your jaw as he brings your lips together in another heated kiss. His thrusts become sloppier and more rushed as he chases his own release.

“Fuck Dabi cum in me” you moan against his lips and he curses under his breath as he spills thick ropes of hot cum inside you. Your breath is coming out in short pants and you can barely stand on your legs when Dabi puts you down. You can feel his cum start to drip down your thighs as he presses a soft kiss against your lips. Your eyes finally gaze down towards Bakugou who looks like he’s about to burst a vein. His eyes are burning holes into your neck where dozens of dark marks litter your skin. From the sounds he’s making, you can tell he wants to say something but under Dabi’s control he’s powerless to do anything.

“How was that for revenge?” Dabi smirks.

“I don’t know, might have to try again at home” you reply cheekily.

“What makes you think you’re making it back home? I meant it when I said I was keeping you”

Masterlist 

[joongieboos]

Colder.

Genre: Angst, might make you cry. (I cried)

Trigger warnings: character death, car accidents, police mention, first responder mention, food warning.

Pairing: Huang Renjun x Lee Donghyuck, college AU.

Word count: 2k words.

Plot: Donghyuck doesn’t come home one day, and Renjun doesn’t know what to do anymore.

Tags: @sombreboy​ @spacebikerateez​ @armysantiny​ @heckydizzle​ @bisoo​ @poprock204 @hyunmintae

•·················•·················•

•·················•·················•

“A seven-car pileup that’s stopping traffic on the freeway has now erupted into flames due to one of the vehicles being a tanker truck transporting gasoline. First responders are on the scene and attempting to stop the fire from spreading. We’ll keep you updated.” A reporter states from the helicopter from above, capturing the whole thing on camera. The news always played at home, and it would be on as white noise. There’s always something that’s going on, and he liked to be in the know. There he stood in front of the counter, chopping vegetables as he would do normally, the pans heating up for dinner as he waited for his fiancé to come home. The table was set, the candles lit, and the merlot poured in his glass, his fiancé’s glass still sitting empty on the table. 

 Sirens fill the air as the fire blazes, police, paramedics and firefighters fighting to save the people in the pile of blazing cars. There hasn’t been an explosion from any of the cars just yet and everyone fighting to save the people involved knows that no one will survive the explosion once one car decides to give up. First responders work diligently to get the cars sorted and sated of the flames, the police rerouting the people onto the off-ramp, paramedics on scene waiting for the firefighters to get those affected out, and the firefighters spraying the wetting agent onto the cars to try to subdue the rapidly charring metal. One of the cars, though, was already sparking into the fuel line, causing the fire to roar, the fuel line leading into the tank. 

 From his perspective, the liquid leaking out of the truck that was flipped beside him was his first indication. He felt himself grow colder on the inside, shivering as he tried to move to get himself out of the burning metal can. Few thoughts ran through his head, ultimately leading him to think about his fiancé who would be listening to the news at home, not paying any mind to the background noise. It had been a year that he got to know his partner better than he knew himself, and with those thoughts, he looked over to the passenger seat, this car bringing the memories of him singing with his fiancé, the countless dates and road trips that they had been on together. He felt the flames grow closer and he only grew colder, his chest filling with regret as the flowers he was bringing home to his fiancé laid on the ground, the upside-down position he was in making the cherry blossom flowers the sole thing he could focus on. 

 He shut his eyes once more and brought himself back to the first time he had met his fiancé. How he could remember it like it was yesterday, he could remember the sweater his fiancé was wearing, he could remember the colour of his hair at the time, what time they had met, where, and how they met. 

 Renjun was sitting in the small café beside their campus, the smaller boy on break from his current shift. This was his final year and he had made his way to go to one of the most popular and prestigious schools in the country. His brown apron bunched on his thighs as he brings one leg over the other. The smaller boy had his coffee and book, finally able to sit and finish this last chapter so he can start his final essay for one of his creative writing classes. 

 The bell at the entrance of the café made a little ding and a group of rowdy boys walked in, the volume of the building increasing exponentially. ‘Great…’ Renjun mumbles to himself, the only reason he took his break was the peace and quiet so he could read. 

 ‘Might as well go back to work…I can’t leave Jisung alone to deal with these orders.’

 He sighs and gets up, his feet moving hastily so he can get back behind the cash and help the group of loud boys. “Hi! Welcome to the Teaspoon! What can I get you today?” He fakes a smile and a customer service voice, now taking the orders of the three boys before one of them. The one going last smiles and it lights up, a small hum coming from him as he goes over the menu situated on the wall above the smaller baristas head, a plethora of machines behind him. 

 “Surprise me, yeah?”

The smaller barista is taken aback and smiles back to him, nodding.

“Alright, any allergies?”

The other shakes his head.

“Perfect, we’ll get your order made right away.” 

 The other male smiles down at the barista and pays the difference, now going over to the group.

 “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, it’ll be done in about five minutes.”

 The smaller barista quickly gets to work, now working on all the beverages for the group. For the last drink, he had decided on an iced passion fruit tea lemonade. Making the decision to give him a nickname, before finishing the drink, he goes and writes something fitting, something easy to remember. The barista passed all the drinks out when they’re all finished, his hand covering the nickname. He lets it go and goes to help another customer who’s lined up and takes her order.

The boy with the tea smiles at him before leaving the café and noticing the nickname. He grins, one of the boys in the group now noticing and asking what he’s smiling at.

“The sun.”

 He smiles, another tear dripping off his face.

 ‘The sun.’

A nickname that was given to him for his smile and bright personality that could light up whatever room he went in. 

 Coming back the next day, the boy with the smile like the sun came looking for the barista he was so intrigued by. Though, unbeknownst to him, the barista was off for the next few days due to the copious amount of schoolwork he had to do. This didn’t stop the sunshine boy from coming in daily, waiting for him, ordering the same thing. He would come in and use the excuse of wanting that barista to make his coffee for him, claiming that he made it better than anyone else.

Four days later, the boy had come back and was greeted by his favourite barista.

 “Welcome to the Teaspoon! What can I get for you today?” The barista says with a smile, his entire demeanour changing when he sees the sunshine boy from a few days ago. “How was your drink a few days ago? It was you who asked me to surprise you, right?”

 The sunshine boy smiles, Donghyuck laughing slightly. “That was me, I couldn’t decide but what you made was delicious. Do you wanna surprise me again? It was probably one of the best drinks I’ve had in a while.”

 The compliment makes the barista grin, and he tries not to show the pride that’s blooming in his chest. “I’d like that, did you want a coffee or a tea, today?”

 “Your choice.”

“Bold of you to trust me.”

“You haven’t failed me yet.”

“I don’t plan on failing you.”

 If only they knew at the time that he said that, that the sentence he had spoken would stay with the sunshine boy for the rest of his life. And it was true. Renjun wasn’t one to fail others, especially those he cares about.

Looking back to the first responders, Donghyuck had felt an array of emotions; anger, sadness, regret, longing, remorse, and what hurt the most was the acceptance that he had come to when he knew he wouldn’t be able to be saved. He had noticed the quiet sound of air flowing out of a hose, and with that sound, everything drowned out. He was pulled back into the memories of him and his fiancé, and the time that the two of them had spent together. His eyes shut and the air from the hose got louder, a single tear slipping down his face as he trembled, his final words dripping from between his lips.

 “Huang Renjun, I will always love you,” He had whispered, the puddle of gasoline igniting beside him.

 With that, time was up.

 The cars erupted in a magnificent roar, the only people to survive being the first responders who weren’t anywhere close to the vehicles which were now charred. 

 Renjun had been cooking, and hours had passed, the worry that was building in his mind, he had sat at the dinner table. He sat, looking at the empty seat in front of him and had finished the bottle of wine that was sitting on the table. With a sigh, he had gotten up and brought his plate to the sink, the food untouched as he put everything he had made into containers for leftovers. While cleaning, a knock on the door had pulled him out of his trance and his legs brought him to the door; there stood two police officers whose faces were stoic but showed some semblance of regret. 

 “Mr. Huang Renjun, may we come in?” 

 His voice was as stoic as his face was, and Renjun had let the two officers in, a pit in his stomach growing into something that felt like it was eating him alive. The two officers had him seated back in the kitchen and he had been staring into nothing, the words that the officers had just spoken breaking him from the inside out. He looked over to where his fiancé would sit, the silence in the room deafening. Everything eventually started spinning and his ears started ringing. The room went cold, the previously warm and loving home he and his fiancé had built for each other now crumbling and breaking down into the frigid and abandoned building. Looking towards the police officers, his face went blank, and tears streamed down his face. The police officers had taken this time to leave a few brochures and escort themselves out. 

 This house had so many reminders of the love of his life:

 The candle on the table, the shirt Renjun was wearing, the ring on his finger, the shampoo that they had both used just that morning, even the day. Their anniversary. Renjun needed some time to think, think about what’s happening, what’s coming next, what he would do. The male sat in silence; the door unlocked after the police officers showed themselves to the door. What was the smaller male to do now? 

 The news hit him with a wave of exhaustion, him now being in the same spot as he was. Was he to love again? No, surely not. He was promised to his twin flame, his person, his everything. He got up and wandered around the house aimlessly, his hands fumbling with each other as the ring he had on his finger twists. “Donghyuck… baby it’s time for dinner, it’s time to eat, and I made your favourite…” he calls out, his voice cracking and his heart breaking when he looks to the door. “Donghyuck, welcome home, my love… happy anniversary, my sun.” 

 This is the sentence that makes him break, finally dropping to his knees, his sobs loud and coarse. After a little while, his sobs exhaust him and he lays where he dropped down, his body aching as he tries to shift in his spot. Renjun can’t be bothered to move, his entire reason for existence now gone. He manages to shift onto his back, eventually just falling asleep in this spot. 

The next morning he gets up and manages to stand, being faced with photos all around his home of him and his fiance. His body seemed to move by itself, bringing him to their shared bedroom, the room untouched. He looks around, feeling his heart shatter all over again.

“Life seems to be much colder now that the sun is gone…”

[writingsbychlo]

let me down slow (05)

word count; 8368

summary; mitch finally gets to take you out on a date, and you have an important discussion, confessions from both of you.

notes; y’all are going to love this part, their date is just adorable.

warnings; smut, unprotected sex, slight cum play, that’s about it.

You weren’t used to Mitch’s car pulling up in broad daylight, the middle of the day with the worry that someone might see the two of you. Either, you pulling him into the house with a fistful of whatever jumper he was wearing that day, or him taking your hand and pulling you out of your house and toward his car needily before you’d barely even had a chance to close the door.

Today, you wanted to do exactly that, but for entirely different reasons. 

You watched as he walked up the driveway, dressed a little more presentable than usual. The messy hair he often wore, and always wore so well, was styled up, freshly washed and fluffier than usual, something you suspected was up to blow-drying, instead of the slightly wavy curls that normally took over on the longer mop at the top of his head, and your fingers itched to run through the softer looking tresses. 

The skinny jeans you were used to, but his dirty sneakers had been traded for the cleanest pair of black shoes he owned, a pair you’d seen sitting in his closet, ‘rarely worn but brought out for special occasions’ he’d told you. A dark blue henley on his upper arms that clung to his chest in all the right places and you were absolutely certain he knew exactly what it was that he was doing to you, the outfit no doubt picked with care to be formal but drive you a little insane over the course of the evening. 

His jacket was slung over his arm, a lightweight black layer for later in the night, and you watched as he shuffled his arm a little, adjusting the jacket before he was disappearing from your sight, and only a second later, he was knocking at the front door. Hopping down from your windowsill, you snatched up your boots from the floor and took them with you, swiping your bag from the dresser as you passed it, and making your way down the stairs, taking a second to catch your breath before you were swinging the door open to greet him.

“Hi.” 

He grinned, eyes scanning down along your body slowly, before he was looking back up to you, his eyes twinkling a little. “You’re wearing the jumper I gave you. On our date.”

“You didn’t tell me what we were doing, so I figured I could go half and half. I’m casual with the jumper, but I figured the skirt dresses it up a bit, and then the boots can be either, so..” 

You knew you were spewing out nerve-induced rambling, but you were nervous. It was a date, with a really attractive man who for whatever reasons he had was very much into you, and you felt the same about him, and it was different to the other dates you’d been on. 

Going to dinner with someone you vaguely know is fine, because you can exchange small talk and ask questions like ‘what is your favourite colour?’ and ‘what are your plans for the future?’ but this was entirely different. If things didn’t work out with them, it didn’t matter because you weren’t losing much, but if for any reason this date went badly, you were losing Mitch, and you weren’t sure if you could handle that.

“You look beautiful.”

You let out a sigh at his words, giving him a smile, before stepping out of the doorway and letting him inside while you put your shoes on. You’d never really bothered with your outfit to see Mitch in before, because it usually ended up on the floor within a few seconds of being together. 

“I brought you something.” Glancing up from where you were doing up the laces on the front of your shoes, he shifted his jacket out of the way, the crinkling of plastic soon being followed by a small bouquet of flowers, your jaw dropping as the brightly colourful bundle was revealed to you. “Kat always used to get at me about not being romantic enough, and I know it seems like a little much for a first date, but I thought you’d like them.”

“I love them, they’re amazing.” You took them from his hands, the stare lingering between the two of you as heat crawled up his cheeks a little, and you leaned in to press a simple kiss to his cheek, before taking the collection through to the kitchen, and you heard him shuffle through to follow you. Silence hung in the air as you filled up a vase, arranging the flowers neatly within and placing it down on the counter, fingers stroking over one of the petals. “I can put them upstairs in my room later.”

He nodded, his face lighting up a little bit, but then that silence was back, and you wiggled your hands a little by your sides, opening and closing them in fists, before he was holding his own out to you, clearing his throat a little as he offered his hand, and you only hesitated for a second before placing your hand into his, fingers wrapping around his palm as he did the same to you. 

“This is tense, right? It’s not just me feeling that?”

“It’s incredibly fucking awkward.” He let out a dry laugh, but the rigidity in his body slipped away a little and he shook himself off. “I haven’t had to do the whole first date thing in like five years and it’s just.. strange. It feels weird.”

“If it makes you feel any better, there’s really nothing I can think of that would make me not want to go on a date with you, and there’s nothing that I think would make me not want to know you. We kind of have an advantage.” His brows raised a little at your words, and that same playful energy was coming back between you both, sparking at the air and changing the tension into more of a sparkling chemistry. 

“An advantage?”

“Yeah, I mean, think of it this way: you already know I’d be happy doing anything with you, even if we just drive around and get milkshakes, like other nights. Plus, you already know you’re going to get some action at the end of it, and you know I already like you. Those are like, the three big first date worries, and you’re already in the clear.”

“Y’know, I didn’t think of it that way. Can we start over then?”

“I would love that.” You promised, and he grinned, adjusting his hand in you own to lace your fingers together properly, before tugging you closer to him and bumping his nose against your own, teasing you a little as the tips rubbed together slowly, and he let out the breath he was holding in a long sigh. “Hi kitten, you look fuckin’ gorgeous.”

He leaned in, pressing his lips to your own in a slow kiss before he was bringing his other hand up to circle around your waist, pulling you up to press you into his chest, and you held onto him tightly, hands smoothing along from his forearms and up to his biceps until you reached his shoulders rubbing slowly as he let out wanton little sounds of satisfaction into your mouth, before he was finally pulling away.

“I figured we could do something casual, I didn’t want us to have to do anything too fancy, that felt like a lot of pressure.”

“I’m not a fancy kind of gal, I don’t own the kind of outfits you wear to restaurants where you have to book two months in advance and wine is only sold by the bottle and costs a month’s bills per glass.” He grinned at your words, tugging you along towards the door as you grabbed your bag, swinging it up onto your shoulder and pausing to lock the house, before letting him guide you down to the car. 

“So, what do you think about dinosaur-themed mini-golf and then going to a diner after?”

He started up the car as you buckled yourself in, your head snapping up to look at him with wide eyes and a smile that could light up a room. “Did you just say dinosaur-themed mini-golf?”

“I found this cool little place just out of town. It has miniature waterfalls, a volcano that erupts and these mechanical dinosaurs that look great.” He confirmed, and you pressed your face into your hands to mask your excitement, your whole body all but vibrating with sheer giddy thrill. He reached over to pull one of your hands down and away from your face, holding onto it tightly as he pulled your hand across to sit in his lap, his thumb smoothing over the back of your hand as he held onto it tightly. “So, I’m assuming I made a good call, then?”

“The best call! Like, ever! Holy shit, I can’t wait. Can you take pictures with the dinosaurs?”

“There’s even one where you can climb up so it looks like you’re riding a t-rex. I googled it very intensely to make sure it was right.” Your jaw dropped, you hand squeezing around his so tightly you swore he’d drop it, but he just he'd on with his own strength instead.

“This is going to be the best first date in the history of first dates.” He laughed at your words, turning to look at you for only a second, before he was turning up the music, the playlist the two of you had been working on was already playing, and you settled back into the seat, the lyrics already flowing from you as you sang out the words, and he did the same.

Pulling up to ‘dino-golf’, you were already practically bursting at the seams with excitement as you hopped down and out of the car, looking around at the environment. A song that was eerily familiar to the Jurassic Park theme tune was playing out over the speakers of the carpark and you could hear the waterfalls and laughs of the other people on the course, just across the lot and on the other sides of some fences. 

The top of the volcano was visible, lighting up with orange as it rumbled lowly, clearly building up to its explosion but not having reached it yet, and Mitch made his way around to the side of the car towards you, pressing his lips to your temple and wrapping an arm around your waist. Guiding you up to the front desk, you swiped a leaflet on your way, tucking it into your bag as you moved through the lobby, and curled into his side a little, cherishing the fact that you were allowed to do so, and an intoxicating rush of excitement shot along your spine at the idea that someone was going to see the two of you together, and that it was okay.

She didn’t even blink twice, taking a payment from Mitch as he handed over his card, before giving you both the clubs from behind the desk, a paper wristband to put on and a small pencil and score sheet, before sending you over to the doors, on the other side of which you could pick out the colour of golf ball you wanted to use. Stepping out of the way of those in the queue behind you both, you balanced your club under your arm as he held the paper strip out to you with a bashful smile, and you peeled the plastic off of it and sealed it onto his skin, allowing him to do the same for you.

Stepping through the main doorways and back outside, your feet hit artificial grass, a member of staff greeting you almost immediately, and offering you a basket of multicoloured golf balls, and you picked out an orange one, matching it to the colour on your jumper, and he followed with pale blue, before you were guided in the direction of the first hole and told to follow the arrows. 

You had decided to go first, placing the ball on the marked little ‘x’ at the beginning, the first hole being simple enough and straight ahead, a little green flag sticking out of it, with a dinosaur fact printed on that you could read once you went over. It only took you two hits to get it to its destination, and you were overly proud of yourself, your ego feeling boosted, before watching Mitch swiftly do it in one, a smirk on his face as you stuck your tongue out at him, your boasting cut off. 

“Kitten, I literally got a scholarship for sports, I play lacrosse, I have an edge here.”

“You’re just irrationally good at all things involving balls.” Your words had been huffed out, before he was scooping both up from the little basket that had caught them, wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you in close to him.

“I don’t know, I’d say you’re pretty good with balls too. I mean, you’re certainly good with m-” His words were cut off by a laugh as you clamped a hand over his mouth, staring at him in shock, before breaking out into your own giggles, despite your attempts to hide them, and his next statement was muffled behind your hand as he spoke, the two of you moving on to the next one, and you removed your hand and allowed him to repeat himself. “I said that maybe if you’re lucky later on, I’ll let you win with some other balls.”

“Yeah, well, I always win at that game.”

You scoffed, writing down your scores onto the sheet before lining yourself up for the second shot, and before you could shoot, he was directing your gaze back to his, his mouth meeting yours for a quick but sweet kiss, that soon became deep enough that you dropped your club in order to hold onto him, his own hands dropping what they held so that he could grip your waist tightly, pulling you into him further and further until your bodies were pressed together. “I think I win that one too, because I get to be with you, and nothing tops that.”

“You’re ridiculously cheesy. What happened to the moody Mitch who barely spoke to me unless he had to, and just thought I was his brother's annoying best friend?” You flicked the tip of his nose, grinning when his face scrunched up a little, before you were pulling away to pick up all the equipment you had discarded, before someone caught up behind the pair of you and made you hurry. This was enough pressure as it was, but you couldn't deal with an audience. 

Lips brushed your ear as you lined yourself up for the next shot, and you paused, waiting to hear what he had to say and you pressed back into him a little. “He found an awesome chick, and realised that she was so much more than the girl he thought she was.”

Shaking your head fondly, you made your shot, watching as the ball went way beyond its destination, bounding off of the small wall at the other side, and you pouted, watching for where it would roll to. To your great surprise, it inched closer and closer to the hole, and seemingly seemed to slow as it approached, and for a second you thought it would stop just shy of falling in, but it didn’t, and you held your hands up in a loud cheer, turning to the man behind you to see that he was wearing an equally proud smile, holding his free hand up to high-five you upon making the shot. 

“I knew you could do it. You’re a pro, already.”

“You’re going to jinx it.” Your words came out in a sing-song tone as you walked over to the other side, watching as he took his own shot, perfectly making it on the first try, and you wondered if he was going to make every shot a hole-in-one. 

The two of you moved on, and around the tenth hole of the course, he caved to your asks to help, the insists that you should do it alone to feel proud were dropped the second you pouted and bent over a little further than necessary, you skirt riding up at the back, and he was more than happy to stand behind you and help you adjust your aim and stance if it meant that nobody else would be seeing anything that he deemed for his eyes only. Not that it gave much assistance to your skill, you were still all over the place with the pressure of your swings and the angles you hit at, but you had fun, and that was all that mattered.

It was also incredibly enthralling to watch Mitch each time, once you had notice the way his fingers flexed instinctually around the metal pipe, or the way his eyes narrowed a little bit when he prepared to shoot, the way he nibbled on his lip in concentration and how the veins in his arms that drove you wild were flashed to you when he pushed his sleeves up to his elbows halfway around. He was like a walking work of art, and he didn’t even know it.

He didn’t make every shot the first time, but he never exceeded needing more than four, even on the rounds that were taking you over ten hits to achieve each time, and he rewarded you with mumbled praises each time you got it, the open affections being something you knew you could find yourself getting used to. You liked not having to hide with him now, you liked that when you noticed another girl’s gaze lingered on him that you could lean in and press a kiss to his lips that he would reciprocate without question, or that when he did something that made your heart flutter a little bit, you could take his hand in you own and he would hold onto you tightly.

All you had wanted for so long was to have someone to give your love to, who would give it back and more, and now you felt like you’d finally found that. You watched the volcano erupt on the hour, water pouring from it and made to look orange by brought lights that shone underneath and out from the base, and you took a picture in front of it, the sky behind you lit up with shades of orange and the drops of water that had fired into the air raining down around you. You took pictures with all of the animations, and with Mitch, and a fair few of him while he wasn’t looking, a collection you could save for yourself, the small and genuine smiles he got each time you cheered him on for getting the shot, or when he was watching you make your own, not realising there was a camera on him while his eyes were on the ball.

A wave of sadness flashed over you at the idea that you couldn't post the images anywhere, you couldn’t profess your adoration for him to the people who really mattered, to your friends and family, without fear of it getting back to Stiles before you were ready to tell him, but at least you had them, the memories of the two of you to be saved forever to your phone, until the day came for you to either delete them, or share them with the world. You really did hope it was the latter choice that would come into play.

It was near the end of the course that you found the giant t-rex that you could take pictures atop of, and he chuckled at the gasp of excitement you let out, your hand finding his upper arm as you squeezed excitedly, and the next few holes seemed to simultaneously drag on while flying by, and you knew you’d completely bombed on all three of them, but you couldn’t help it, and your scores weren’t going to be winning any prizes anyway. Upon reaching the base of it, you peered around the back, finding a set of steps that you could climb up to reach the top, before turning around to look at the man before you, and he waved his phone at you, already out and on the camera app as he prepared to snap the picture of you. 

“Get on up there, I’ll get a good shot.” You turned to look back at it, humming under your breath as you stared up at the giant statue,

“You think we can get someone else to take it, baby? I want us both on it.” When you didn’t get a reply from him, you turned around to find him staring at you intently, and your brows shot up in silent question. “You don’t have to take a picture with me up there, I just thought it would be fun i-”

“You called me ‘baby’.”

You paused, looking at him for a second to face him more fully, before clearing your throat and trying to ignore the blush rising on your cheeks at the pet name you’d barely even processed having said, the word just slipping out with the sentence. 

“That’s the first time you’ve ever given me a nickname.” He pressed in close to you, cupping your cheeks and pressing an eager and passionate kiss to you lips that had you melting into him as he laughed breathlessly into your mouth at the way you repeated it to him, the exchange intimate and private and utterly perfect given the timing, before he was resting his forehead against your own and taking quick puffs of breath. “I absolutely want to take a picture on that fuckin’ dinosaur with you, let me just go and give someone my phone.”

He was dashing away from you a second later, jogging down towards a couple on the next course, and you made your way up the steps to the little platform out of photo-sight behind it. There was a ledge to sit on, definitely only designed for one person, but you’d make it work, you were determined too, and after a few moments, he was appearing at the top of the steps beside you, eyes locking on the small seat.

“Huh.”

“We can make it work.” He nodded, navigating himself around you until he was sitting on it, before guiding you down into his lap, the two of you positioning until you were squeezed onto the chair, but fit comfortably, looking down at the woman standing with the phone at the base, taking a few steps back to get it all fitted in for you, before she was shooting you a thumbs up. The man with her, whom you assumed to be her husband from the playful way they bickered over the angle, held up his fingers in a count down for you both, and you smiled widely, holding your hands up in the air above you as the picture was taken. 

She took a few more, before others were waiting for their chance to get a picture, and so you stepped down from it, thanking the two of them when they handed the device back, and they headed back over to their own section of the course to continue their game, and you did the same, but not before looking through all of the shots and choosing the ones that were your favourites, each of you sharing the photos from your device with each other, until you had copies of every shot from throughout the evening.

Once you reached the end, you were adding up your scores, finding that Mitch had less than a quarter of what you did, the staff member at the end informing you that he may actually have broken a record and that he would be put on the leaderboard if he asked at front desk, and you were absolutely determined to make sure he did. 

It turned out he had, and was now being placed as third on the Top Ten board they had out, giving you a mock glare as he filled out a little form with his score, and his name on, and some details for next time while she printed him off a certificate from the machine. You looked around the waiting room, finding a photobooth tucked into the back with Jurassic themed greenscreen backgrounds, fishing into your purse for extra change as you stood near it pushing the coins into the machine and selecting your background choice, but not starting up yet. 

He came walking back over, face a little red as he gripped his certificate and had a badge in his hand that said ‘I am a dino-golf legend’ on, and you cracked up at the sight of it. He rolled his eyes, opening your bag where it hung at your side hiding the piece of paper and the plastic award inside. 

“You are the absolute worst.” He grouched, and you wrapped your arms around his neck, laughing lightly, and he continued to frown at you, but wrapped his own around you in return, tipping his head to the side when you leaned in to kiss at his cheek, and you felt the pull of the skin indicating he was smiling, even if he did pretend to be mad. “I did get a voucher though, we get free entry next time.”

“Next time?”

“If you want to come again, that is.” He showed you the waxed piece of paper, before adding that to those in your bag and sealing it up, accepting the kiss you gave him as you nodded. 

“I would love that. But, before we leave this time, we have to take photobooth pictures. It has backgrounds.”

“Backgrounds, huh? Can’t miss that.” He crowded you into the box, and arm over your shoulders as you pressed into his sides, and you clicked go on the machine, the countdown beginning as you posed. It was exactly as romantically cliché as you’d hoped. You posed for the first two, before feeling his nose nudging at your cheek in the third, and his hand on your jaw turning your head to the side for a kiss at the camera click went off. 

The sounds of cogs turning and photo developing sounded out, but with the curtain pulled and a moment of privacy to yourselves, you allowed yourself to press back into him a little deeper, your tongue dipping out to play with his before he even had to ask, the lingering taste of mint on his tongue, and you were more than happy to indulge in it, letting yourself get lost, until you heard the click of the photos dropping down to be collected, and you forced yourself to pull back from him. 

Pushing back the curtain and climbing out, you grabbed the set of four, holding it up to show him as he followed behind you, the two of you making your way back towards the car as you observed the pictures you’d taken.

“Look at that, now we’ve made out in a Triassic jungle. Don’t you feel accomplished?”

“You’re such a little weirdo, I love it.” He muttered, nuzzling at your temple before holding open the car door for you and letting you hop up and inside. You pushed the picture card into a piece of the framework on the dash, watching it hold steady, and brushing your fingers over the plain bit outside of each frame, loving the way it sat there, making it all feel a little more personalised. “Can I keep them?”

“Yeah, you can keep them in your car, or your wallet, or whatever.” You waved at them, strapping yourself in and watching as he sat up enough to pull his wallet from his pocket, before selecting them. Tearing the paper in half, he tucked the final two into his wallet, leaving the first two goofy ones up in the place you’d left them, showing it to you with a grin. 

“How about both?”

“I can’t believe you’ve got a picture of us in your wallet, that’s deep.” You teased, and he thumbed at them adoringly before putting it away and digging out his keys instead, starting up the car. 

“So, you hungry?”

When Mitch had said diner, he really meant it. It wasn’t the city kind of diner that was more like a restaurant, the ones that pretended to be but actually had an elite menu with four courses and everything you’d expect from someone fancy, but this was a diner.

It had a small menu that mostly consisted of greasy and fast to cook foods, a range of breakfast meals that could be served at any time of the day, and it still had a sixties theme lingering about it despite the efforts to redo it, the history was still shining clear underneath. It was perfect, everything from the checkered floor to the leather booths, you were loving it, settling down happily to pour over the menu and decide what you wanted to eat.

“The burgers here are amazing. I always stop here for food when I’m on my way too or from college.”

“You stop here? It’s only, like, an hour out of town.”

“Best food for miles, though, and it’s just kind of a tradition now. Maybe in fall, we’ll be driving together, and I can share it with you.” He reached out across the table, taking your hand in his and pulling it across the table towards him, your other hand coming up to hold onto his as well, and you laced your fingers together, menus temporarily forgotten.

“Have you ever shared your tradition with anyone else?”

The question hung heavily between you both, and the movement of his thumb over the back of your hand paused for a second as he looked at you, swallowing thickly and ducking his eyes for only a second. “I’ve never brought anyone here before. Everything I do with you is totally brand new, I promise.” You let out a relieved breath, nodding for a second, and he stood up, leaning over the table to press a kiss to your lips before sinking back down into his seat, and taking his menu in both hands. “You’re not a replacement, or a substitute for her. I like you for you, and I wasn’t looking to get feelings for someone else while I came home but I did, and I like that you and me happened while I was being myself, so I don’t have to pretend with you.”

Your heart skipped a beat, even if he didn’t look up at you as he said those words but you knew he was hanging on your response, and you stretched your feet out under the table, nudging your foot was his and tangling your legs together. “Just so you know, you’re not a replacement for what I felt for your brother.”

“Felt, or feel?”

The question felt like a punch to the gut, and he looked at you for only a second, a thousand different emotions flashing through his eyes before he cleared his throat a little, looking down at his menu and leaving the silence hanging thickly in the air between you both. You were still staring at him, lost and confused and looking like a deer caught in headlights, and you were still a little frozen from the question, feeling like there was stone weighing you down from the inside out.

The waitress came over to take your orders, and you had no idea what you wanted, Mitch listing off what you assumed or be his usual with ease, and he looked at you, your eyes directing down to your menu to avoid his, before you barely managed to choke out what you wanted, giving the woman a polite smile before she was moving away to get your drinks, and you finally looked back up at him.

“Mitch, I really like you. Like, more than I‘ve ever liked anyone other than Stiles. It’s different now, with you. You make me feel different, you make me feel everything I never thought I’d get back. The way I feel about you is nothing like the way I feel about him. It’s exciting, and new, and you want me back, an-” Your voice cracked as you spoke, and he stood up from his side, rounding the booth and cupping your face in his.

“Kitten, please don’t cry. I’m not mad at you, I’m really not.” He shushed you quietly as tears welled up in your eyes, and he kissed at your cheeks delicately, letting you calm your racing heart. “Don’t cry on our first date, I don’t want that to be what we look back on.”

“I’m sorry, Mitch.”

“Don’t be sorry, he was your first love, and that’s always hard to forget. I may not be in love with Katrina anymore but she’ll always hold a place in my heart, and I suspect my little brother will hold that for you, too.” He tipped your chin up, pressing a delicate kiss to your lips, and breaking away when two glasses were placed down on the table before you both, and he pulled your soda over to you, prompting you to take a sip.

“I have such an amazing time with you, every single time.”

“I know, sweetheart. I feel the same.” He tucked some hair behind your ears, letting you curl into his side as his arm wrapped around you, and he let you press your face into his neck, soothing yourself with the warmth of his skin and the smell of his cologne, the familiar and unique way it made you feel when he held onto you. “Just tell me I have a chance, okay? I don’t think I could handle competing to make you fall in love with me, if you’re already in love with him.”

You let out a breathless laugh, nodding slowly and pulling away to hold onto his face, pressing your forehead to his as the unshed tears began to clear from your eyes. “You have a really good chance, Mitch. Like, a sure thing. You have the game rigged.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, baby.” His eyes lit up at the use of the pet name once again, and he leaned down, connecting your mouths in a kiss deeper than any you had shared before, expressing everything that you weren’t saying but confirming everything that you had.

When the food arrived, the mood had cleared, and the two of you ate happily together. He remained on your side of the booth, the two meals becoming shared as he tempted you to try some of his and stole some of yours, your plates pushed up together and your meals shared, until the plates were empty and you were both stuffed, slouched in the booth with your hands held and mumbled words shared.

When he went to the bathroom, you jumped at the chance to pay the bill, wanting to share the costs together and treat him just as much as he liked to treat you. When the table was clear of plates and waitress handing you a receipt when he came back out, he shook his head, but was biting the inside of his cheek to contain his smile, and he took both of your hands in his, pulling you up to your feet and thanking you server as he pulled you out of the door, the bell jingling overhead.

“How am I supposed to treat you and win you over if you buy dinner?”

“That would be called buying me, which makes it prostitution, and I’ll put out for you anyway.” He poked at your sides, growling in your ears a little as he pulled you back into his chest by the waist, and he nipped at your ear lightly. “Besides, you won me over the day you looked after me during my period, even though you didn’t get anything for it.”

“I got to spend the whole day with you, didn’t I?”

You rolled your eyes, shoving him away a little but connecting your hands before he got too far, the two of you stumbling along as the night began to set in, the sunset painting a pretty picture across the horizon. He dragged you in close until your bodies were pressed together, just the two of you wrapped up in one another beside the car, the world slipping away for just a moment. “Do you want to go for a walk along the edge of the preserve?”

“I would way rather take you home, while we still have a few hours to ourselves, and take our time as I have my way with you.” Your jaw dropped as his lips brushed your own with every word, but he pulled back, shrugging his shoulders casually. “But, if you want to go for a walk, we can do that, I guess.”

“You’re right, let’s go home.”

“No, no, no.” He sighed, trying to pull you away from the car, a shit-eating grin on his face, and you dug your heels into the ground to hold yourself still. “You wanted to go for a walk, so let’s do it.”

“If you take me home right now, I’ll blow you when we get there.”

“Sold. In the car, kitten.” He was singing a different tune from the second you’d said the words, slapping at your ass cheekily as he encouraged you up into the vehicle, before getting in himself. The drive was fairly short all things considered, but it still felt like it dragged on for an eternity, the lingering touches you shared and the longing glances being something that only teased the pair of you further and further.

Stumbling into the house consisted of messy and wet kisses, tongues tangling visibly and moans pouring out into the air as you tripped up the stairs in a bid to reach his room while pawing at one another desperately. Making your way along the halls, you fell through the door, your hands tugging that dark blue henley up and over his head, his arms raising to allow you too.

He was pulling at your skirt, yanking it down your legs as you messed with his belt, yanking it from the loops and dropping it to the floor as he stopped the movements of his mouth along your neck, snapping away to peer down at the panties you had one, a loud sound bubbling up from his throat. “Black lace panties, does the bra match?”

“Why don’t you find out?” You lifted your arms up, and he peeled the jumper off of your body, the matching top half being revealed to him as he threw away the rest of your clothes, and you stood before him, in nothing but lingerie and heeled boots. “So, you like?”

“I’ve never seen you wear these before. You’ve been hiding them from me.”

“They’re special, it’s my super pretty date underwear. You earned it today.” You smoothed your hands up his chest, his eyes blown wide with lust and practically black, before taking a handful of his hair and pulling his mouth back down to clash with your own. While he was distracted with your mouth, you were able to pop the button on his jeans, slipping your hand underneath to palm at him through his boxers, his hard cock pressing into your hand and throbbing with each rub.

His own hands were cupping your cheeks, hips rolling into your hand as your other clung to his waist, and he nipped at your lower lip when the burn for oxygen became too much. Kissing along his neck, he tipped his head back, letting you suck and nip along his throat, before your tongue was dragging between the defined lines of his muscles to lick down across his chest and stomach, before settling on your knees.

Brushing his fingers through your hair, he beamed down at you, watching as you tugged his jeans and his boxers to sit around his ankles, his cock springing up and pointing out towards your face. Dragging the tip of your tongue along him, from the base to the tip, before lapping at the slit that was leaking precum out onto his skin.

“Fuck, you look so good on your knees for me. Even better when you let me fuck your pretty mouth. Open up for me.”

You did as told, your jaw dropping open and he slipped his cock between your lips, groaning out as the wet heat of your mouth surrounded him entirely. He pushed in until you were gagging, before he set a slow and steady pace once your lips sealed around him. His fingers were pulling at your hair as he continually tried to smooth back the strands so that he could see your face. He loved the way your lips would stretch around his cock, he loved the way you looked when your eyes watered and spit drooled from your mouth with every thrust he delivered to you.

He liked to take care of you, but Mitch was truly filthy in his own ways. Gripping at his thighs, your nails were digging into his flesh as you forced yourself further down, pressing past your gag reflex as far as you could go, and his legs trembled under your hands, his eyes wide as you pulled back to drag in deep and gasping breaths, and you licked along his shaft, before taking the tip back between your lips once again. Focusing your attention there, you swiped your tongue along the underside, loving the noises you knew how to drag from him, and the reactions you knew how to get out of him.

“Tell me what you want, tell me how you want me.”

He groaned out at the prompt, his mouth dropping open and beginning to spill his thoughts without a filter as you went back to bobbing along his shaft slowly. “I want to fuck you slow and deep tonight, not our usual quick and frantic hookups. I need you to know how much you mean to me tonight, and I need to know you feel the same, so I want to fuck you until you’re begging me for more, begging me to make you cum. I want to watch you unravel, I want you to remember that I’m the one who drives you wild, I’m the one who knows how to take care of you.”

You stilled, looking up at him through your lashes, the words you wanted to speak so badly to him were right there, but you didn’t want this to be how you said it at first, you didn’t want to tell him what you wanted to say until you didn’t have to hide it.

You didn’t want to say it until you knew you were completely and utterly his. Instead, you rose back up, letting him kick off the rest of his own clothes as you slipped off your boots and made your way over to the bed, dragging him with you by both of his hands.

“Show me how much you want me.”

He slipped a hand up behind you, unhooking the latch on your bra and peeling it away down your arms. He cupped your tits in place of the fabric, thumbs dragging over your already pebbled nipples and the sparks shot along your body, your back arching up into him, but he pushed you back with a wicked grin, letting you fall back onto the bed and bounce with the mattress.

“Just gonna’ throw me around like that?” You teased, but lifted your hips, anyway, when he made to peel your panties from your legs, and he threw them away over his shoulder, crawling up the bed toward you as you moved away from him and he wrapped a hand around your ankle, pulling you back down towards him to trap you underneath himself.

“Don’t pretend like you don’t love it.”

“Touché.” He nodded at your submission, before he was dipping down and taking a nipple between his teeth to tug on it, pulling it away from your chest and scraping his teeth across it before he let go, and you could feel yourself becoming undone with every touch he gave to you. Lining himself up, his hips rocked into you slowly, thrusting up slowly until he was fully sheathed within your tight heat, and you looped your arms under his own to grip tightly to his body.  

His chest was pressed to yours, and he set a slow rhythm, fingers clenched in the bedding beside your head as he began to drag in and out of you slowly, and you rolled your hips up to meet him. The usual rapid and bruising collisions of your bodies was changed tonight, it was emotional and passionate and you let out a sob of pure need at the feel of it, overwhelming as he showed you what it meant to be loved.

Your nails were tearing streaks down his back, your throat raw from crying out his name each time he hit against your sweet spot perfectly, every time his skin dragged over yours in a way so erotic you felt yourself flooding around him. He was working his mouth over your body, no patch of skin left untouched by his mouth, covered with kisses or trails of his tongue, as he made sure to worship you in the way he had promised to do. You had never felt this way before, not even with the way he held you when you weren’t fucking, or the way he held you were, but this was a connection on a whole new level.

Locking your hips around his waist, you flipped him over, sinking back down onto him as he gripped at your hips and let you rock your body down onto him. Sitting up to meet you, his mouth found yours, and your movements slowed until you were simply circling in his lap, his hips twitching up the occasional urge to meet your own, but other than that you were both still. The only movements shared were the grasping of wandering hands and the swirling of your tongues between lazily dancing lips.

“You are my world right now, do you know that?”

“Jesus Christ, how does your soft talk affect me more than your dirty talk?” He cursed out as you clenched around him, laying back in the pillows and dragging you with him so that he could fuck up into you with as much power as he could. You cried out, your eyes rolling back in your head and colours exploding around you as everything in your life seemed to fall into place as an orgasm more meaningful and memorable than any you’d had before came crashing over you, leaving you a trembling and quivering mess in his arms. “Fuck! You’re so tight!”

“Don’t stop! Please, just don’t stop.”

You were gasping for breath, riding back onto his cock as the stimulation overwhelmed you but the orgasm building up within you for a second time was undeniably stronger, and you could no longer form words, screams leaving you in desperate begs as you hurtled over the edge, and pulled out of you quickly, cum splattering across your stomach and tits, painting your skin with his arousal as he bit down on his lower lip to muffle the noises that he was making.

Your body collapsed down on top of his, uncaring of the cum splattered across your body as you dropped down onto him, and it seemed he didn’t care either, because he wrapped his arms around you and rolled you over so that his body was sprawled out atop your own. You were both fighting for breath, sweaty and dirty and perfectly content as you curled up in his arms. Tears came to your eyes as you snuggled into him, and you pressed your face into his shoulder, sniffling a little as he brushed a hand over the back of your head, twisting his head to kiss your temple.

“What’s going on in that head of yours?”

“I’m just so happy here, with you, right now.” You didn’t bother to lie, and he pulled back long enough to press a collection of longing kisses to your lips.

“You have no idea how long it’s been since I’ve been this happy, and you did that.” He pushed himself up from the bed, and waddled away for a moment to the bathroom, before returning with a clean chest and a washcloth, wiping over your skin and pressing kisses to each clean patch. Once he was done, he disposed of the cloth and his old clothes into the wash basket, folding yours as he placed them on his desk and kicking his bedroom door shut, lest anyone in his family come home early and see you both.

Crawling up the bed beside you, he collapsed down into the pillows, letting out a low groan of satisfaction and relief, and snuggling down into his own pillows as the two of you lay in companionable silence together, regaining your clarity as the sex-drunk haze cleared up a little.

“Will you stay?”

“What about your dad, or Stiles?” You whispered, and he rolled onto his side, brushing some sweaty hair out of your face and pecking your lips sweetly.

“I’ll lock the door, won’t let anyone in. Give you some of my clothes to wear, sneak you out in the morning.” You remained still, nibbling on your lip as you contemplated it, before sighing and nodding, a gentle smile offered to him.

“Fine, but only if you let me wear those really soft-looking black sweatpants with the crocodile on the pocket.” Your bargain was well received, because he nodded, waving in the direction of the drawer, before pulling you back into his arms.

“You got it.”

[commander-diomika]

Pspsps come get your angst and inevitable betrayals. (Part One) (Part Two) Part 3 - Fandom: Rusty Quill Gaming Pairing: Zolf Smith/Oscar Wilde Rating: Upped to Mature for graphic depiction of blood/injuries Word Count: ~2200 Additional Tags: Slow Burn, 18-Month Time Gap (Rusty Quill Gaming), Rating Will Change to Explicit in Later Parts, Opposites Attract, Blood and Injury, Angst

Summary: "The longer they stayed, the more it delayed real progress on the mission. Hope had borne them this long, but Zolf knew by the heaviness in his heart, it was time to consider saying goodbye. In more ways than one.

He didn’t want to have this conversation. He didn’t want to be the one to tell Wilde that it was time to stop gambling on the chance that they might see the party again. There was a tragedy in the shape of an executioner’s axe hanging over them both, and Zolf was about to give the nod to drop it."

It's all fun and games until someone loses their smile.

Six days after Bosie’s arrival.

Zolf was walking back to the safe house from the temple of Hephaestus. It had been locked up tight, and there was no response to his hammering on the door.

I think it might be time to move on from this city, he thought. The ringing of his unanswered knocks at the temple had rung with a kind of finality. Both he and Wilde had held on here longer than they should, making any excuse they could to stay put in their current safehouse. Hoping to hear from Hamid and Sasha. Zolf and Wilde clung to Damascus, praying that any day word would come through. If they just stayed in the last place the other party members had been seen, it might make them easier to find. Hoping, hoping, hoping.

But the longer they stayed, the more it delayed real progress on the mission. Hope had borne them this long, but Zolf knew by the heaviness in his heart, it was time to consider saying goodbye. In more ways than one.

He didn’t want to have this conversation. He didn’t want to be the one to tell Wilde that it was time to stop gambling on the chance that they might see the party again. There was a tragedy in the shape of an executioner’s axe hanging over them both, and Zolf was about to give the nod to drop it.

“Ho, Wilde!” Zolf called, coming through the door. He sighed as he unslung his pack from his shoulders, thinking about how best to broach it.

When a few silent moments passed, Zolf surfaced from the depths of his thoughts, noticing that there was no response from within the townhouse. “Douglas?” he added uncertainly.

There was every chance the two of them were cozied up in Wilde’s room again. Zolf had seen a lot less of Wilde this week than usual, and he wasn’t looking forward to prying Wilde out of his torrid nest to have a hard conversation. Whilst it wasn’t any of Zolf’s business who Wilde took to bed, it was Zolf’s business that Wilde was... distracted. And if Wilde was planning on keeping Bosie around...

Depressed about the notion of so many hard conversations threatening, Zolf clanged his glaive into the weapons rack in the entry hall and threw down his bag, heading to the sitting room.

Shock has a way of warping perception, of making a mind skitter when it should seize. For instance, as he reached the door, the first thing that Zolf noticed was that the settee was the wrong colour, instead of Wilde’s bloodied body atop it.

Zolf swore, feeling like his legs wouldn’t respond, like everything moved slowly as the view properly hit him.

It felt like an age before he could move. Wilde’s upper half was drenched in blood, the couch dark and dripping with it.

“Wilde?” Zolf asked, almost inanely, as if expecting a response. Wilde had fallen back as if pushed, limbs splayed. The blood was leaking from multiple messy slices across his torso, darkening the soft turquoise shirt to a purple-black. That was shocking enough, but the real horror was Wilde’s cheek, sliced from temple to lips in a vicious, loose flap. Already Zolf was pulsating with healing light as he ran over, years of combat experience overriding the dumb shock. He nearly slipped in the growing pool of blood.

The wave of power emanating from Zolf slid like oil around Wilde’s body, none of it sinking it.

The cuffs! Zolf could have screamed. He yanked up the hems of Wilde’s pants. He snapped the cuffs off with strangely steady hands and blasted the man with magic.

“Don’t move!” Zolf cried. Can he move? Will he move? Zolf’s hands were slick within moments of touching Wilde’s face, the blood still oozing from the wound. Zolf’s stomach lurched, but he remained focused. He drew the two loose parts of Wilde’s cheek together before slamming more magic through it, his mind a horrified buzz. The point of a safehouse was that it was safe!

Wilde was trying to speak.

“Don’t! Just let me- don’t talk, Wilde, just wait.” There was so much blood- this kind of precision surgical work was better done by, well, surgeons, not hackneyed ex clerics who weren’t even sure why their magic still worked.

Zolf felt the loose pieces of skin begin to knit themselves back together beneath his hands, and no more blood flowed from the chest wounds. Zolf had a brief and horrifying flashback to Sasha, in pieces, her organs floating like a halo around her lifeless body. He didn’t want to keep getting his friends' blood on his hands, even if it was in the service of saving them.

Wilde weakly tried to push Zolf’s hands away and went to speak again through the ruin of his face.

“Don’t worry about me,” he managed this time. “Go after Bosie!”

“Stop! Talking!” Zolf replied, besides himself with anger, incredibly relieved that Wilde was conscious. “Wait- Bosie did this?”

Wilde was awake enough to hold a hand over his cheek and sit up. His face was painted stark red from the bridge of the nose down. His head had slumped to one side, wound facing up, blood flowing down; the effect was like he was wearing a shiny maroon bandana over nose and mouth. But his eyes were remarkably clear and angry.

“Yes. I don’t know- he turned, it wasn’t him anymore, or something took over him. He tried to take me with him and I- I fought back and-” Wilde went to stand, hand still clasped over his face. “I think he heard you- shit, Zolf.” Wilde’s eyes flicked around frantically, looking for the man who attacked him.

“Easy, easy.” Zolf stopped Wilde from rising and as he did, Wilde’s fire seemed to go out. Zolf kept talking. “It’s alright. It’s not important right now.” Zolf’s gut swooped with guilt as he looked at the wound. He’d gotten here just in time, but Wilde wasn’t walking away from this without scarring. “Just let me take care of it, ok?”

Zolf reached and cupped Wilde’s bloody cheek in one hand. Wilde half-closed his eyes and leant into the touch, breathing shakily. Zolf had been about to push more healing magic through the cheek, but he froze at the sensation of Wilde’s lips and breath against his blood-slick hand. Alive. Zolf had gotten here in time and his droll, irritating, shallow co-conspirator was alive.

Suddenly Wilde’s eyes flew open. “No!” he shouted and leapt to his feet, knocking Zolf’s hand aside. He looked completely deranged. “Get away!” Zolf backed up a few steps, hands outstretched as if he were taming a wild animal.

“I- Argh! He was infected!” Wilde clenched the tattered shirt to his chest, as though trying to hold his whole self together. “We spent this whole week together, in bed, fucking, kissing! You need to stay away!”

The wind went completely out of Zolf’s sails, his breath leaving him in an instant. Wilde was only semi-conscious and still reeling. Zolf would be impressed at Wilde’s acumen whilst distressed, if the point he had made wasn’t completely terrifying. Zolf took a few steps backward without realising.

“Wait, Wilde, just wait.” Zolf was still catching up. “You said, he tried to take you away. If you were already infected all he had to do was wait, righ’? A week, Curie said, all of her double agents lasted less than a week before they turned on people.”

“We can’t know that! Maybe he was just getting a head start! Fuck!” Wilde’s cheek started to bleed again with the strength of his swear.

Zolf had backed all the way to the other side of the room, only noticing when his arse gently bumped the wall. “The cuffs, Wilde.” He was grasping, but he desperately needed to find the right words to say to take that hellish look off Wilde’s face. “If it’s at all magical in nature, maybe the cuffs protected you.”

Wilde’s head snapped around frantically. In the carnage, he hadn’t realised they’d been taken off. He spotted them, discarded by the low table and moved to them.

“Wait, at least let me-” Unwilling to come closer, Zolf simply radiated as much healing as he could muster. Wilde, eyes unfathomably dark, nodded his thanks as he snapped the cuffs back on. He’d been on the brink for a moment there, terror threatening to snap him, but Zolf’s words, and the Stockholm-syndrome familiarity of the weight around his ankles had brought him back from whatever edge he’d been teetering on.

Wilde’s mouth twisted. He’d taken as much healing as Zolf could jam into him, but the scar was there to stay. “Here’s what’s going to happen. Zolf, you’re going to go up to my room and bar the window. I don’t care how you do it, move a wardrobe over it, stone shape it, whatever, but make it tight. Then I am going to go into that room, shut the door-” He took a deep, shuddering breath. “-and wait for seven days.”

Zolf gulped. “Righ-…. Right. That’s a good idea. I can bring you food and-”

“No. No food.” Wilde snapped. “No opening the door. Not if I beg, not if I scream. Not for anything.”

Zolf’s mouth was agape, trying desperately to catch up to Wilde, to meet him wherever he had gone. “No food? Don’t be daft, you’ll die.”

Wilde’s head snapped to the side, then to the other. It was unclear if he was shaking his head or simply processing with his whole skull. “No, I won’t. I’ll need water but I can live without food, or whatever we’ve got in the house. What are you waiting for? Do it now!” His demeanor had snapped from terror to fury. “Every second we waste dithering about it makes it more likely that this could take you too!”

Zolf obeyed. His hands had started to shake as the crest of the crisis passed, and he stilled them by taking action. He washed the blood off himself and dutifully collected all the vases from about the place to fill with water, grabbing any food in the kitchen that wasn’t raw ingredients. It amounted to some bread and dried fruit, but Zolf was still obscenely grateful there was any ready-to-eat food in there at all. The horror inherent to spending seven days alone in a single room was starting to spread like a dark inkblot in his mind. He kept moving, as if he could outrun a stain.

It was trivial to stone shape the window closed; the townhouse wasn’t particularly big or lavish. When he stepped out of the room, Zolf was met with the ghoulish sight that was Wilde waiting for him down the corridor. He had put a jacket over his slashed shirt but hadn’t even tried to clean the blood off his face.

Zolf paused in the door, looking Wilde over. “Curie said something about- about blue veins?” he said softly. He didn’t want to ask. The last thing he wanted to say was I told you so.

“What? Everyone’s veins are blue.” Wilde’s voice was flat, emotionless. Shock was setting in properly, Zolf diagnosed.

“I dunno. It weren’t clear, but… did you notice anything? On Bosie.” It felt horrible pushing Wilde right now, but knowledge was power. Wilde in his right mind would understand.

Wilde’s eyes shifted in either shock or deception. “No. I didn’t. But we spent a lot of time with the lights off.” Wilde gave his head a little shake, as if to dislodge a memory... or stop one from surfacing.

More than the blood, it was the blankness on Wilde’s face that was most unsettling. Zolf couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Wilde without a smirk or an arched brow or, more frequently these days, a soft little smile, usually when he thought Zolf wasn’t paying attention.

“What’s done is done. Worry about the “how” if I come out the other side of this.” Wilde took a step forward, waiting for Zolf to back off. “Go to the end of the corridor. Once I’m inside, I’ll shut the door. Bar it from the outside.” Metres between them, they performed a grotesque mockery of a tango step, Zolf stepping back, Wilde stepping forward. When Wilde reached the door, he stared into his room.

“And Zolf?” Wilde didn't look over at him, considering the darkness inside as though it held a secret. Perhaps pondering the poetic implications that his love den of the last week was to be his prison for the next.

“Yeh?” Zolf knew this had to happen. Knew it was a good idea. But gods, he wouldn’t wish this on his worst enemy. Wilde had just been betrayed in the most vile way, and now he had to sit in the dark with that for a week. Zolf hadn’t wanted Douglas around, but he certainly hadn’t wanted this.

“At the end of these seven days... if it’s not me in there-” Wilde finally tore his eyes away from the room and turned his gaze to Zolf’s. “-if I’m, monstrous or sick, if I try to hurt you...” He didn’t finish the thought.

“I won’t let you.” Zolf whispered through dry lips. Wilde didn’t have spell it out; they understood each other well enough by now.

Wilde nodded once, satisfied, and stepped into the dark.

[pastaaa-bird]

Day 4:historical

@aphrarepairweek2021

Sorryforbeingadaylate

Oh warning for very minor swearing(only happens three times) but other then that there is nothing inappropriate and also there is implied period typical homophobia in this

Summary: An 80s human AU where a stressed out Chiara (nyo Romano) is saved from going crazy by a hero(Amelia aka nyo America)

Basically this is just fluff, fluff and more fluff

Chiara Vargas was a second a way from flipping her desk and raging down the halls, or at least she would be if she had not possessed just enough self control to hold back on the urge.

“Fuck fuck fuck….” Chiara muttered, the sound coming out muffled from her face being squished against her desk in failure.

“OH, CHIARA” came a high pitch voice down stairs.

Reluctantly she lifted her head to the sound.

“WHAT?I'M BUSY”,she yelled back, mentally cursing her brother for disturbing her sulking.

“A CERTAIN SOMEONE IS HERE FOR YOU",

“WHO IS IT?”,

“YOU'LL HAVE TO COME DOWN AND SEE",

After managing to hold back a bitter protest she stood up then stormed down stairs.

“This better be worth my time, Feli or l swear to Dio l’ll-",

Chiara came to a halt once she saw the girl beside Feliciano.

“Hey!” a cheerful voice as usual from the smiling blonde with pink sunglasses in her hair, dressed in her demine shorts,  red t-shirt and long white socks with a pair of roughed up old sneakers.

“Amelia- uh hi there" She replied while awkwardly fidgeted with the sleeves of her jacket, embarrassed at the realisation that she had heard her yelling.

“Nice to see you calm down, anyway l’ll you two ladies to it”, he winked at Chiara who rolled her eyes at the look, not sure whether to love or hate that it felt the exact same to when her grandfather would make comments about her bringing a boyfriend home.

He disappeared into the sitting room to join Valentino on the couch.

“I was wondering if you would want to hang out, we haven't done that for ages”,

“Oh right, ugh l don't think l can”,

“Sure you can! You're not busy are you?”,

“l am, study”,

Amelia raised an eyebrow at that.

“Study? Our exams aren't till two weeks" ,

“I know, l know but l'm sick of revising everything on the night before the exam, besides l need as much of time as possible to understand this crap",

“Ah fair enough- how about l help ya with it? math l'm guessing?”,

Sighing at the memory of her many failed attempts at completing and understanding equations and formulas she nodded.

“Yeah, but are you sure?”,

“Definitely!”, stated Amelia with both hands on her hips and standing tall to her eagerness for the task.

“Alright then...",

A while later Chiara found her self back at her desk with Amelia standing beside her reading over her practice questions, nervously waiting for the results.

It felt like an eternity before Amelia finally looked up and spoke.

“And…that's like sixty five percent right!”,

“Sixty five?! Where did l go wrong this time?!”,

They had been at this for quite some time now. Despite Chiara’s frustration she stayed relativity calm for the most part thanks to Amelia’s encouragement and little jokes that made her either outright laugh or complain due to what she claimed was annoyance even if though she did find it humorous.

“Symbols, you forgot them again, there's supposed to be a measurement symbol at the end of this to say whether it's centimetres squared or cubed or meters squared- eh you get the point...", she paused then continued.

Miss Kirkland is your math teacher, right? She's real strict when it comes to small stuff like that so she takes off a lot of marks”, explained Amelia while doodling with the pen in the corner of the practice sheet of paper Chiara had used.

Miss Kirkland, certified smartass- even if it is technically her job to be one. Now, Chiara didn’t exactly hate her but she was far from a favourite in terms of teachers she was forced to put up with.

She hated how Miss Kirkland loved to call on those who she knew where not paying attention, there was a sense of snobbishness when it came to the way Miss Kirkland would proudly correct the unsuspecting student with a smile that more closely resembled a smirk.

“l hate this, I'm so close to getting this right but l keep screwing it up”,

“Come on it's fine! You've made awesome progress since when we started! It's only been like what….an hour? Give yourself some credit",

“…l guess you're right. But I'm also stuck for other things- like history and geography suck",

“ Wanna head to the library? They got good resources for both”, questioned Amelia now looking up from her doodling.

“Nah, I've had enough school for today. Let's do something else, anything in mind?”,

“Ooh! A few things-“,

Understandably Chiara was not surprised when they had arrived at the arcade on their bikes.

“Is this becoming an addiction for you?”,

“Ha-ha very funny, you have your obsessions and l have mine”,

“You even call it obsession, keep all this up and l'll be hosting an intervention for you",

This time Amelia genuinely laughed in response, Chiara savoured every second of the sound.

They were stuck there for a while, when it came to Amelia's great interest and Chiara’s competitive attitude it was easy to guess that there would obviously be competitions to see who could score the highest.

To Chiara’s dislike Amelia ended up winning proportionally more then she did followed by listening to the victory taunts from Amelia.

And it seemed that as quickly as they arrived they where off again.

“No, no, no, nah, no, nope, no”,

“Oh come on! l thought you weren't a quitter”,

“I have my exceptions, this is one of them",

Roller skating, she wanted Chiara to roller skate. Clearly Amelia wasn't aware of the fact that Chiara would likely crawl into the ground out of embarrassment if she would likely- no when, when she would end up falling flat on the floor.

“l'll help ya along! You'll be fine", urged Amelia tilting her head to the side with pleading eyes.

Upon arrival to the centre she instantly felt her heart sink knowing what would be expected her. After much convincing from Amelia and equally as much rants about what could go wrong from Chiara- she ended up agreeing to at least attempting to skate.

Chiara felt her chest tighten and face heat up once she suddenly felt the hand of Amelia intertwine with her own, guiding her into the skating area after they got their roller blades.

It was fascinated to see how effortlessly Amelia could move, practically gliding with ease although at a much slower pace due to guiding Chiara along. For this moment anyway, Chiara forgot how to feel anxious.

The last destination for the day was the local diner.

“Two milkshakes please, a double chocolate for myself and a strawberry and banana mix for her”,

“Coming right up, dear", replied the waitress.

“Oh and don't worry l'm paying, l owe ya for last time with the ice-creams” reassured Amelia after she placed their order.

It was the small things that Chiara adored about Amelia the most, how she remembered her favourite foods was one of them. Along with her passing small notes with funny faces on them to her whenever they shared a class and she had noticed that Chiara was dying of boredom.

They sat on the high chairs in front of the counter top as they awaited her drinks, Amelia flapped her hands with giddy excitement once they were received, Chiara couldn't help smile at the sight.

She thought about sharing the milkshake together, putting the straw in her drink like those shitty romantic movies Amelia loves so much. It would be cute wouldn't it? Cuter to see Amelia's reaction to the gesture! She smiled to herself at the idea.

Then her face dropped.

No, no they couldn't, not here, although her smile was brought back again by looking towards her girlfriend who had all her attention on blowing bubbles into her drink.

“Should you really be playing with your food like that?”, she questioned placing the straw into her own drink.

“Might as well make the most of it when my folks aren't here to tell me off ", Amelia shrugged in response.

Chiara found her self agreeing with that mentality and joined in with the childish behaviour.

They cycled back to the house, it was getting dark already.

Amelia was invited in and the two walked past the living room seeing Feliciano and Valentino with their eyes still glued to their precious TV.

At peace now they were sat together on the back porch. There was a small garden behind the Vargas' house, it was closed off by the tall fence( put there mostly so the neighbour's cat couldn't hope over and ruin the vegetable patches or flowers).

The air was humid all day and was beginning to cool down with the sun getting lower and the clouds moving in.

For what could have been anywhere from a minute to a thousand years the two spoke about anything and everything, the topics seemed to flow so easily, naturally changing with ease.

Finally the two sat in comfortable silence, looking towards the sky who’s colours had turned into oranges, yellows and pinks.

This is what Chiara so deeply enjoyed, how they could just sit together and feel so secure.

Routinely this what would be done for one another if the other was upset and asked for so, this time was often spent with their hand held or being hugged by the other.

 There would be times where Chiara in particular would wish to be alone, in cases like this Amelia would go prepare or buy a snack for whenever Chiara is feeling okay again, it gave her something to look forward to when she needed to be alone with her own depressing thoughts.

Sometimes when Amelia would be upset she would just want to vent and vent with no words of “it will be okay" or “look on the bright side of things", Chiara was there to listen and agree with the difficulty of whatever situation she found herself in.

Chiara's head was rested on Amelia’s shoulder, her arm wrapped around her in response to it.

Now it was getting cold, thankfully she still wore her jacket…but maybe…

“Amy?”,

“Yeah?”,she quietly answered back to the nickname.

“It's getting a bit…chilly don't you think? Would you, would you like my jacket?”,

“Oh...Uh sure.If you wouldn't mind that is”, a blush covered Amelia’s cheeks, she was rarely flustered or at least visibly.

The jacket was a gift to Chiara for Christmas from one of her relatives, it was given oversized to her but she kept it since it seemed more comfortable like this. On Amelia the jacket finally looked normal, it fit her well and looked quiet lovely.

They went back to silence until Chiara broke it again.

“Thanks by the way. I really needed today- to get my mind off of all this stupid fucking stress l've been trapped in lately",

“Of course. We all need a break now and then",

“You could say that again…l love you" Chiara looked up, her chin now on Amelia's shoulder.

Amelia glanced down at her and grinned.

“The feeling is mutual, sweetheart"

The end

Okay now for me rambling

Uhhhhh l read through this and l don't think l made any mistakes? I'll edit this if there are and sorry if you saw any, idk l'm bad at checking for mistakes and l don't have someone to proof read for me

Oh and Valentino is human Seborga and alsooo not sure if l made it clear but Feliciano does know about their relationship and also Chiara is Bi and happy to feel valid in her relationship with Amelia as if it were the exact same as when she is with a guy and not something taboo in this time period

ALSO damn, sorry this isn't that particular to the 80s- l did leave out things l was originally going to add in though! Like l was going to have Felicianio and Valentino have a movie marton but according to Wikipedia they werent common around then and the ones that did happen were anime soooo y e p

Also thought about adding in a house cord phone but eh idk it felt nicer to have Amelia visit instead of having Chiara call her or if l tried writting it as Amelia calling and then showing up it just felt forced and weirdly put in any way l tried to write it in

AH l am so worried that this is boring or cringy, like l honestly can't tell if it is or is this fine-ehh l guess l've written worse um yeah if you've read this far thanks :)

(I'm editing this for mistakes and wtf 90 is so high why would she be shocked- damn l think l know why l originally wrote that, l was thinking Amelia said ONE of the questions is 90% right but before it l said she was correcting multiple questions so it reads as multiple questions being 90% right all together ANYWAY l corrected it so it's fine again okay bye -AND it turns out l missed some mistakes yet again-editing this for the 3rd time rip)

[thewatermelloncat]

Disorganised Closets (Rosé)

Jan, Denali

Summary: Again Denali finds Rosé in an unexpected place, only this time their roles are reversed.

Author’s Note: This work is a part of a three pieces series covering characters facing struggles of the LGBTQIA+ community. These works are not intended to assume anyone’s sexuality (please remember these are fictional characters) or experiences (because everyone’s will be different). Also please read the warnings and with caution because the angst potential comes heavy with such matters. Sending love ❤

Warnings: PANIC ATTACK

Read on AO3

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

Denali didn’t normally drive after dark but tonight she decided to take a detour after skating practice, cruising around her old neighbourhood where her family had moved from a little over a year ago.

On a Friday night a few people were out on the streets visiting friend’s places to watch the sports matches on TV or catching up for drinks after work. It was a clear sky which made for nice driving under the moonlight and Denali decided to head to one of the parks she used to frequent to watch the stars.

Turning the corner, she passes a large group of people milling around a backyard, vaguely remembering one of the seniors at her school lives there. Glancing at the property as she drives past, she recognises a few faces of the celebrating class, having finished the last of their exams at some point that week. She smiles to herself as she speeds up a little, thinking how that will be her the next year.

Nearing her destination her eyes fixate on the road ahead until she sees the colour of pale pink hair catching the moonlight. She double takes, then triple takes before she slams on the breaks, pulling over to the side of the road.

“Rosé?” she immediately hops out of the car and rushes over to her. Wondering why the girl is sitting on the side of the road in the dark, knees pulled to her chest and huddled against a rock feature wall all alone.

“Denali?” Rosé looks up at the familiar voice but her expression shows that she is second guessing whether Denali is really there. Her voice is shot from crying and tears spill down from her eyes.

“Are you alright? Are you hurt?” Denali rushes, the questions blurring together. Reaching a hand out to put on her shoulder.

Rosé doesn’t give an answer other than sniffling and half-heartedly attempting to brush her tears away.

For a few moments, Denali lets them stay in silence before she stands up, holding her hands out to Rosé. “Come on, I’m going to take you home.”

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

“There are some tissues in the glove box” Denali offers as she starts the car and pulls away from the curb.

Rosé doesn’t respond to it, pulling her sleeve up onto her hand and pressing it against her lips. Maybe not seeing the point of drying her tears as more continue to flow.

Concern pulls the corners of Denali’s lips down. She’s never pictured Rosé as a crier and remembers Jan making jokes on multiple occasions that she doesn’t have any emotions. So, to see her breakdown this much or to cry at all is definitely something Denali never expected to see.

Though she will have to unpack that all later since her first priority is getting Rosé home.

Denali drives them along, the roads as familiar as the back of her hand. Making a point of not sparing Rosé sideways glances to give her a sense of privacy. It isn’t until she registers the quiet sobs turning into irregular gasping breaths, that she looks over to Rosé.

“Breathe, Rosé” she instructs in a kind but firm tone.

Rosé nods and she tries to take a deep breath in, but it gets choked in her throat as well.

Witnessing Rosé keep on slipping, Denali barely thinks before pulling the car over again. Without a word she gets out of her side and makes her way over to the passenger side. After opening the door, she leans over to unbuckle Rosé’s seatbelt since she is too weak and unfocused to release the button herself and helps her out. Hoping that the fresh air will do her some good.

“I’ve got you” Denali assures as she wraps an arm around Rosé’s waist to help her along.

There is a park bench not far away but Denali knows that Rosé won’t make it, so she lowers her to the grass at the edge of the footpath. Crouching down in front of her, she takes one of Rosé’s hands to hold to her chest. “Breathe… Breathe with me… Nice and slow” she encourages between deep breaths.

She tries to stay calm but she can’t help but worry as Rosé shakes as she gasps for breath. Hoping that she can’t feel Denali’s heart racing beneath their shared touch.

“This is all you, Rosé” she reminds her, absentmindedly tracing her thumb across the back of her hand. “Let’s see if you can hold the next few.”

Faintly Rosé nods and Denali feels a rush of relief that she is listening. They breathe together, Denali calmly listing instructions which Rosé follows until she can breathe evenly on her own.

When she’s satisfied that Rosé is under control, Denali relaxes her grip on her hand, removing it from her chest but not letting it go.

“I’m sorry” Rosé says faintly, her voice barely audible.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for” Denali assures her, squeezing lightly at her hand.

She feels Rosé’s grip tighten slightly as she tries to squeeze her hand back on habit, but she’s so weak that her fingers barely move.

“What’s got you like this?” Denali asks, shifting her legs beneath her to sit down properly.

“I made a mistake” Rosé says quietly.

“What kind of mistake?”

“A huge miscalculation” Rosé closes her eyes in regret. “I just thought that my friends were better people, I guess.”

Denali doesn’t say anything as her brow furrows, and she reaches her free hand forward to clasp Rosé’s hand between her grip.

“I thought I was in a place where I could come out to them, but I was wrong.”

“Come out to them?” Denali asks before thinking. Though her voice is gentle.

Rosé nods. “About me being Bi” Rosé looks at Denali and reads her confusion. “Has Jan not told you yet?”

Denali shakes her head and Rosé smiles a little at her sister keeping her secret from her best friend.

“I thought she might have.”

“She didn’t” Denali assures.

“Well, means to say she took it better than my friends did.”

“What did they do?” Denali asks.

Rosé draws in a shaky breath as she gets her thoughts together.

“Y-you don’t have to tell me anything” Denali takes back quickly, feeling that she asked too much.

“They, um…” Rosé begins as if Denali hadn’t spoken again. “They said a few different things, actually… Right off the bat wondering why I can’t just choose, and then one of them said that I’m just desperate.”

“Oh, Rosé that’s horrible” Denali says as Rosé’s last word is choked off in a sob.

“But nah, nah. It’s okay” Rosé shakes her head at the memory as she pulls up a part of the conversation, “because at least she’s half straight.”

“No” slips from Denali’s lips in disbelief.

“And then I just left” tears fall freely from Rosé’s eyes again and she sinks her head onto her knees.

Wordlessly, Denali shuffles over to her side and traces a hand comfortingly up and down her back.

“I’m so fucking stupid” Rosé admonishes herself. “I should have known better than to tell them at a party with alcohol involved.”

“That’s not the point” Denali quells. “The point is that you felt comfortable enough to tell them. It’s their fault for how they acted towards it.”

“I just wish I picked a better time.”

“Sometimes we don’t choose.”

“Oh my God, Denali. I’m so sorry” Rosé breathes out, looking at Denali with wide eyes. Remembering how she had been outed. “I’m so sorry, this is so selfish.”

“It’s not selfish” Denali shakes her head. “And that’s also not what I mean. What I meant to say was sometimes a moment appears suddenly and we take it because we don’t know when it will come around again.”

Rosé nods and Denali can tell that is what happened to her.

“I just shouldn’t have said anything” she swallows back another sob. “School is over and I don’t have much time to fix things before we go our separate ways.”

“Fix what, Rosé?” Denali asks. “There is nothing to fix. They know who you are now and it’s their choice to accept that or not. If they don’t, they aren’t worth your time. But there is nothing to fix.”

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

When Denali guided Rosé up the steps of her house and Jan opened the door for them, most of their conversation was traded in glances. For a few seconds Jan had stood back trying to form words while Denali led Rosé beneath the doorway and toward the kitchen, sparing her a glance while she said “put the jug on.”

“Yeah” Jan agreed quickly, snapping out of whatever ruminative state she had been in.

Then Denali had sat Rosé down at the kitchen table before she joins Jan over by the jug while it boils away. Speaking lowly beneath the sound, she tells Jan everything she knows. Watching as she looks over at her sister, her expression changing from concern to anger and then she just looks sad.

When the story concludes, the jug switch clicks off but Jan abandons it to move over to Rosé, wrapping her arms around her from behind and speaking lowly to her. So, Denali picks up the jug and pours the water into a mug with a teabag that Jan had already laid out. Then she spends time bouncing the teabag by the string in the water, letting the two of them have a few moments alone.

“I just don’t know what to do” she hears Rosé sigh eventually and looks up as Jan moves to sit in the chair beside her.

“You’re good at giving advice” Jan points out. “What would you say to yourself?”

“Jan, I just don’t want to think right now” Rosé hangs her head in her hands over the table, and Denali pushes herself away from the bench.

“Just name the worst thing you could do, and we’ll rule that out” Jan tries.

“Jan, I just don’t” – Rosé cuts herself off with a deep breath.

“You should drink something, Rosé” Denali inserts herself into the conversation. Placing the mug that she had carried over to the table in front of Rosé and fixing Jan with a look to backdown for a second.

“Thanks” Rosé says quietly, both hands gripping around the cup before she raises it to take a sip.

“I don’t think you need to do anything tonight” Denali tells her as she sits down on her other side.

“You’ve already said your bit, so just let your friends come to you” Jan adds.

Rosé nods smally, and in the light of the kitchen Denali can see the makeup that has smudged from her eyes.

“Hopefully they’ll think different tomorrow when they’re sober” Denali comforts and Rosé nods again but doesn’t raise her eyes from the table.

“I think you should get to bed. Hit reset, yeah?” Jan suggests.

It’s clear that Rosé hears her but she doesn’t move. Seeming to be stuck in thought, staring into the depths of her cup.

“Take that with you” Jan gestures to the mug before she adds, “please Rosé. You look exhausted.”

Then slowly Rosé starts to move. Drawing in a breath before she pushes out her chair and takes her cup off the table.

“Do you want someone to come up with you?” Jan asks.

Rosé shakes her head and mumbles an answer but all they catch is the word “alone.” Then she heads up the stairs leaving them sitting in silence.

Quiet settles over them and Denali takes to watching her thumbs twiddle around each other on the table top and Jan begins to tap her fingers lightly against the surface. After a few minutes Denali looks up at her, sensing her restlessness about to turn to action.

“Yeah, I’m going to go check on her” Jan says and gets up from the table quickly without waiting for a response. Then Denali stands and follows behind her.

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

“Come on, get into bed” Jan says immediately when she pushes open the door of Rosé’s room, finding her sitting on the edge of the mattress seeming to be contemplating life.

The lights in the room are still on but other than that Rosé looks ready for bed. Her smudged makeup taken off and gone are her party clothes, instead changed into trackpants and a sweatshirt with the hood still drawn up. In the proceedings of things, she just seems to be moving slow and both Denali and Jan understand that.

While Rosé finally pulls back her covers and hops up onto the bed properly, Jan switches the overhead light on for a lamp on the side table. Then she climbs up onto the mattress and over her sister’s legs to sit behind her, while Denali sits up on the mattress to her front.

“You’ve at least got to try and sleep” Jan pulls back Rosé’s hood and begins to stroke a hand through her hair after she had lain there with her eyes open for a while.

At her sister’s touch Rosé’s eyes slip closed but her breathing doesn’t even out as images play behind her eyes and voices in her head, so Denali takes her hand in between her own.

Denali isn’t sure when Jan started singing softly or when she starting humming quietly after she’d picked up the tune but it finally works to coax Rosé to sleep.

For a few minutes neither of the best friends move, afraid that she will wake up again. Then Jan stops her singing and catches Denali’s eye before she nods down to the mattress and settles down into it.

Denali nods back, understanding perfectly, before carefully twisting to reach behind her and turn off the lamp. Then with the lights all out, she settles down into the mattress, falling asleep still holding onto Rosé’s hand.

[intubatedangel]

Cold Snap: Chapter 2

Chapter 1|

 *******

Dave was driving the ambulance down the towards the river road, approaching from the center of the city, when the call came through.

"All available units, major incident on river ferry, requesting all available units respond to docks nearest Tippers Point and North Inglebank." There was a pause as the technician dialed in straight to them. "3008, you're closest. Can you initiate triage protocols on scene?"

Dave looked at Lucy, who simply nodded, then picked up the radio receiver.

"3008 to control. We can do that. Do you have further details?" she asked.

"Not yet. You are to liaise with river patrol and assess the situation on scene. Use your judgement." The radio goes silent.

"That's a lot of help." Lucy sighs. The ambulance reaches the outskirts of the business district, turning onto the river road. Without skyscrapers in the way they can see the expanse of the river, the black plume of smoke clear and obvious, below it the water taxi, limping across the surface of the river. From this distance they could just make out people on the upper deck, waving their arms, and a speedboat, a red and blue strobing light flashing from a pole. Dave guided the ambulance between the traffic, which thankfully relented easily with everyone aware of their destination. He guided it off the road, onto the small dock.

They jumped out, already hearing other sirens approaching. Dave grabbed his radio, tuning to the emergency channel. "This is 3008, taking control of Inglebank incident." A properly trained team would be on their way, but that would be ten minutes. "All units report in upon arrival."

Lucy was looking out the imperiled boat. "I don't think she's going down. She's taken on water, but I don't think its totally fatal, not soon anywhere." She paused. "I should go out there."

Dave looked at her, seeing that she had thought it through, then simple raised the radio again. "Calling all river patrol, please divert 1 to North Inglebank Dock to take on medical passenger."

* * *

 Jones held tight to some of the hand holds on the rim of the patrol boat as it bounced and skipped along the river towards The Beetle. He was able to make out the design of the boat. It was long, with a stepped profile. The passenger compartment rose two levels, to better look out across the river. Towards the front, he could see a wide interior staircase leading down to the proper deck, flanked by doors to the lower level. Towards the rear, a number of windows had been blown out of the lower deck, with smoke billowing forth. The smoke was thick and black, and also running into the upper deck. The product of incomplete burning. If there was a fire, it was most likely just smoldering the oils and grease that must have been within the engine bay. Fuel would be burning much hotter, and would have taken out much more of the boat. That didn't mean it couldn't change.

With the smoke filling the interior, all the passengers had escaped to the front deck. It was crowded, and agitated, but not a complete panic. Yet. As the patrol boat eased up next to the taxi, close to an access ladder, Jones threw out a rope to a man in a high vis jacket, expecting it be one of the crew. The fact he immediately tied off the rope was a decent sign Jones was right. Winton was talking on the radio, so he climbed the metal rungs, and pulled himself onto the deck, appealing for calm as he tried to make sense of the situation. He approached the crew member, seeing that he's an older man, with a white beard and matching hair.

"You are?" He asks.

"The captain, sir."

"Good. I’m officer Jones, what's the situation?"

"Catastrophic engine failure. Couldn't get eyes on but I don't think it's fixable. We're dead in the water."

Jones bit back a flash of anger. "Is the boat sinking right now?"

The captain sighs. "Yes, but slowly as far as we can tell. My lads are trying to get access, find out more, but as it stands, she'll stay on the surface for plenty long enough."

"Ok." Jones turns to the crowd. "Help is coming, so please stay calm, we'll get everyone to safety." He scanned the crowd, seeing plenty of bloodstains and dazed looks, but nothing too major.

* * *

  Lucy had made a quick boarding onto the patrol boat that pulled up at their dock. Sirens had been approaching, but she trusted Dave to organise everything on this side. She double checked her bags as they skimmed across the surface, effectively deputising the one of the cops on board the patrol boat. She showed him a set of large colour coded tags. "We tag everyone!" She shouted over the sound of the motor. "Green for no signs of injury. Blue for cuts and scrapes. Yellow for broken bones, burns, anything you would expect to need treated." She explains each colour.

"Purple for conscious head injury, right?" The cop checked, having been part of major incident responses before now.

Lucy nodded in reply. "Anything worse, you point to me. Those will be priority one, understand?"

The cop gave her an acknowledgment, pocketting the stack of tags, and they made the rest of the journey in silence, both thinking about what they may find onboard the damaged vessel.

 A few short minutes later they pulled up alongside The Beetle, other patrol boats backing off to allow them access to the ladder. Lucy climbed up first, not hesitating for a moment. Reaching the deck she saw that things were not as bad as she feared. There were plenty of injuries, but the fact everyone seemed to be sitting or standing, and no one immediately tried to grab her, suggested there was nothing critical.

She waved the cop she had commandeered towards the crowd of passengers, who she noticed were mostly organised into the correct categories anyway. She spied one cop who seemed to have taken charge, on the opposite side of the deck, marshalling kids onto a patrol boat, and headed over.

* * *

Shona’s ears rang. Her nostrils were filled with smoke. Where....What....

Sensation began to return. Her whole body ached with pains and pressure, but one pain kept growing and growing. Her leg. Her leg felt like a constant sharp pain, like a spear was jammed in it. She tried to open her eyes, but her vision swam, and a wave of nausea crashed over her.  I took a moment for it to pass, before Shona tried to open her eyes again.

It was better, not by much, but not sickening. She was looking at whitewashed, decades old wooden boards. The ceiling of the lower cabin of the water taxi, and the doorless frame of the luggage compartment. That answered the where.

She started to look around, there was smoke, a lot of it, thick and black, flowing up the stairs. Something seemed off though. The smoke was rising at an angle, heading to the wall first. The boat wasn't level. It was tilted to one side. Which must mean. Sinking. The boat was sinking.

Instinctively she tried to move, to flee. But the pain seared through from her leg, and the rest of her could barely move either. She looked down, having avoided doing so up to now, only to see a whole luggage rack lying across her legs, pinning her, with smaller bags from the sides scattered over her top half. She could just see which bag was on her excruciatingly painful, almost certainly broken, leg. She almost laughed hysterically. It was her own.

The case prompted more details to came to mind. "Jack?!" She shouted, pushing away a couple of the smaller bags, trying to get a clearer view of the nearby floor. She saw him, crumpled in a heap, not far from her. They must have both been thrown down the stairs when the engine exploded. He wasn't pinned, but a trickle of blood ran from a cut in his scalp and he was clearly unconscious. "Jack!" She shouted again, grabbing a lighter bag, and throwing it at him. It had the desired reaction, he stirred, moving slightly and groaning.

His groan grew to a shout of pain as he pulled himself up. Shona watched him as he turned slightly, and she saw his right arm. More specifically she saw the bone sticking out of the skin above where he held it. She realised the implication immediately. There was no way he could help her remove all the bags. Especially not her own. "Jack!" She shouted again, trying to get his attention. He looked up, squinting slightly as he looked for who shouted his name. He was clearly dazed, working through things just like she had.

He looked around and Shona could see him piecing things together, before his head snapped back to her direction. "Shona? That you?" His voice was a little slurred

"Yes. Jack. Listen. I'm trapped. I need you to get help, to get these bags off me. I think the boat is sinking, so please hurry."

He squinted at her, shuffling forward on his knees. "Trapped?" He asked. "I..er...I can." His voice was off, still feeling the effects of the head injury.

"You can't. Your arm. Just go. Up the stairs, get help. Please!" Shona pleads, using short phrases in the hope it might help.

It seemed to work. Jack nodded. "OK... OK." He took a few deep breaths, reaching out with his good arm, grabbing the door frame of the luggage area. He pulled himself up, hissing with pain as he did so. His eyes found hers. "Hold on." He said.

She nodded. "Hurry..." She whispered. He nodded, then turned, stumbling towards the stairs on the listing floor, but reaching the stairs. He gripped the rail, then began to climb. A moment later he disappeared into the thick smoke, leaving Shona alone.

* * *

  "Ok Winston, that's all the kids." Jones looked to the small faces, many with tears rolling down their cheeks despite reassurance their parents would be with them soon. "Winston here is going to take and nice and steady for you guys! If you ask nicely he'll tell you about all the fish he knows!" Jones looked pointedly at one of the older kids, a girl, maybe 15, who nodded at him.

"I think thats a great idea!" She said loudly."What's the biggest fish you've ever caught Mr. Winston?"

Winston gave Jones a quick salute, before setting the patrol boat in motion. "Well, that is a story! Have any of our been out to west? Into the lakes? It's be, oh, 10 years ago..." Jones turned away, almost colliding with the paramedic.

"Lucy Branthwaite. You in charge?" She asked, rather abrupt, an annoyed look on her face.

"Apparently. Matt Jones." He held up a hand, forestalling her. "I know what you're going to say. We checked them for injuries. Greens and blues only, but i've directed them to the triage dock anyway. There should be enough time for your people to give them a once over before we make them busy."

Lucy's stony gaze on him held for a few moments, then softened. "Ok," she said. "What else have we got?"

"Mostly minors, a few bumps to the head though. I want to send those next with your permission, then work our way through the rest. We don't have safe capacity for everyone in a single go, but the captain says we should have plenty of time, before the boat becomes dangerous."

"Ok, agreed. Do all your boats have spineboards?" She asked, recieveing a nod in reply, get them all on deck, I'll assess the head injuries, immobilise those that need it I can have some of your man power."

"I wouldn't call them mine, but I'll spread the..." he's cut off by a shout, as crew members come running out onto the deck. "Hold!" Jones shouts, bringing them up short. "Report!"

"Fire! Fire in the engine bay, we couldn't put it out." The crew member shouted, causing a ripple of alarm through the crowd of passenger.

The captain came closer. "Quiet you fool. How bad is it?"

"Caught a fuel leak sir. We managed to clamp the lines before we got out, but its burning in that direction."

"Officer Jones, our time just became more limited. If the fuel tank blows we'll be under within ten minutes."

* * *

 The officer looked at her. It was hidden, but she could see the panic in his eyes. "Can we send the head injuries without immobilisation?"

Lucy ran her hand through her hair, looking at that small cluster of passengers, then she nodded. "I think so." She pointed to one bag, there's a dozen neckbraces in there, they'll have to do. I'll go with them in one boat, slow and gentle. Can your other boats handle the rest?"

"They'll have too." Jones replied. Before turning and barking orders, the air of command returning as soon as the decision was made, getting the less injured onto the first available boat, making best use of time.

Lucy made her way to the head injuries, and began fixing the collars, before handing them off to some officers who were helping them into the patrol boats as gently as they could. Lucy finished with last one, and looked around for Jones to tell him they were going, when she saw a new figure stumbling down the stairs inside. She saw the gruesome spur of bone sticking from his arm and rushed forward, pulling the door open for him. He almost fell into her arms.

"Help her...Plea..."

 The fire reached the fuel tanks.

[esmealux]

The Devil Doesn’t Do Children

Part: 3 / ?

Setting: About a year after 5a

Word count: 3.9K

Rating: T

Warnings: There’s a flashback to their first night together which is not exactly graphic but not entirely innocent either. Skip if you like.

Summary: ‘Yes, well, colour us both fooled, Detective,” he cuts her off, “because based on some deduction I did today, and a not entirely ludicrous theory Linda had, it might be, in fact, possible. And I… I need to know for sure, so,’—he nudges the small package further in her direction and looks back up at her with pleading eyes—‘would you care for a wee?’

Author’s note: This is all I have for now, but I’ve already got some ideas for a part 4, so stay tuned. I would love to hear your honest feedback on this and/or your wishes for what the next part should contain. (Second time posting this part, because I accidentally reported my own post and then tumblr took it down (*cosmic face palm*) — and it’d even gotten more notes than any of my other pieces and some really heart-warming comments. Alas. They can’t be deleted from my heart.)

It’s not exactly unlike Lucifer to disappear for half a day—still, it makes Chloe anxious, and she doesn’t like wasting her energy on being anxious. When she had checked if he had answered any of her calls or texts for the fifty-sixth time in an hour, Chloe had put her phone in a Tupperware, placed it on the kitchen counter and retreated to the couch with a glass of wine. She knew he would come back; he always did. But until he did, she would need a 16% Zinfandel. God knows she deserved it after a day like today.

Even wrapped in a plaid and with candles lit around her, she’d still felt restless. The wine hadn’t calmed her nerves quickly enough. She hadn’t been in the mood for watching TV or putting on her usual pick-me-up playlist—instead, she’d felt an urge to do something she rarely had time for. With her wine glass in hand, she’d gone to the bookshelf, her free hand instinctively reaching for the photo album with ‘November 2007 - May 2008’ scrawled on the back. She’d dusted it off, sat down on the couch again and carefully opened it, as if the photos she knew it held might fly out like butterflies freed from a cage.

She flips through the pages. Nostalgia flutters in her chest and her head is now comfortably fuzzy from the wine. Most of the pictures in the first half of the album are candid shots of her and Dan, together and alone. From January and onwards, the ones of her are mostly taken from her chest and up. She hadn’t wanted her body to be documented, having felt self-conscious and uncomfortable, and most of all big. Now that the bump has turned into a strong and independent teenager, she wishes she’d wallowed in it a little more, enjoyed it while it lasted. She’s proud of Trixie, of who she has become, and it is nice to do some things with her now they couldn’t do when she was small. But sometimes, just once in a blue moon, a part of Chloe kinda longs for the time when they were inseparable; when she could carry Trixie on her hip; when they would play hide ’n’ seek in their old garden; when she could feel her little monkey snuggle into her side as they both fell asleep. The latter still happens sometimes, but the once little monkey has now outgrown her soft polar bear PJ, and her hair doesn’t smell like baby anymore.

Chloe has just reached the end of February when there’s a rhythmic knock on the door. Sighing at her guest’s unnecessary (albeit heart-warmingly considerate) politeness, she puts the photo album and the glass of wine down on the coffee table, wraps the blanket tighter around herself and yells, ‘You have a key, Lucifer!’

Five seconds later, he’s standing in her living room. He’s changed his clothes, looking impeccable and completely overdressed as usual, but his hair is in a disarray, like he’s been tugging at it, and his face is grey. He looks tired.

‘Where have you been?’ she asks him, her voice softer than she expected it would be. He sits down on the couch beside her, and she grabs one of his hands with both of her own.

He studies their fingers. ‘I just had a tête-à-tête with Linda.’

He’s been gone for seven hours, but she doesn’t ask what he’s been doing apart from seeing his therapist. She trusts him, and she trusts that whatever he’s been up to, it was what he needed to do to deal with… Yes, what exactly is it he’s been dealing with?

‘Wanna talk about it?’ she asks, reaching for her wine glass and raising it to her lips in an attempt to appear nonchalant. Before the delicious, dark red Zin can flow into her waiting mouth, the glass is removed from her hand.

‘What in Dad’s name are you drinking?!’ he berates her, as if she was chugging down Roundup directly from the jug.

She stares at him with wide eyes, trying to figure him out. ‘Uhm, a small glass of wine?’

He gives her a disapproving look. ‘When you’re-’

For some reason, he doesn’t say the rest, so she finishes for him, ‘Working tomorrow? Well, yes. I am. But in my defence, I really needed it. And since when are you one to deny me alcohol anyway? Just yesterday you put whiskey in my coffee—at work!’ She reaches out to get her glass back, but before she can get a hold of it, he leans his head back and downs the rest of her drink in one go.

She closes her eyes for a second and lets out an exasperated breath through her nose. ‘Seriously, what has gotten into you?’ she inquire, her eyes narrowing as he wipes her Zinfandel off his lips with the back of his hand.

He snorts and glances down at where the throw blanket is covering her abdomen.‘You’re one to talk.’ In any other situation, she would think he was making a lewd comment, but there’s something about his tone that throws her off. Annoyance? Frustration? She opens her mouth to ask him but stops when she notices his eyes are fixed on something beside her. Turning her head to see what has caught his attention, she realises it’s the open photo album. He carefully grabs the cover between his fingers and pulls it towards himself on the table, not taking his eyes off it. She’d just turned the page when he’d knocked and hadn’t seen the photos that are now displayed in front of them. Two of them are pictures of a very new-born Trixie, both taken at the hospital. One is a close-up of her perfect, little face and the other is of Dan nervously cradling her in his arms. Chloe feels warmth prickle behind her eyes.

‘Is this you?’ Lucifer asks, pointing to the photo in the top right corner on the left page. She feels heat creeping up in her cheeks as she takes in the photograph that actually caught his eye. She’d remembered it wrong when she’d thought there weren’t any pictures of her body in her third trimester. There was—is. Just one. Dan took it a couple of nights before she (finally) went into labour, insisting they ‘commemorate her strong and beautiful body’, or something like that. (She’d only given in because he’d promised her a back rub afterwards.) The picture is taken from the side, showing her form from mid-thigh to her head. She’s practically naked, only covered by a pair of white panties and her arm as it rests across her enlarged chest. Her hair is curled up into a messy bun on top of her head, her neck bent as she smiles down at her round and enormous belly.

She senses him gulp beside her and looks over at him, expecting some comments—either in the category of ‘How many humans did you have in there?!’ or a delighted exclamation like ‘Your breasts, Detective!’—but he doesn’t say anything. He just sits there and stares at the fourteen-year-old photo of her, silent and unreadable.

‘Okay, that’s it,’ she says, a little too sharply, shutting the album. Once she’s put it back on the shelf, she comes to stand across from him on the other side of the coffee table, arms crossed.  ‘What’s going on with you?’

He looks so shocked she feels a little bad, but then a mix of unsettling emotions set in his face and she knows she was right to confront him so directly.

With a deep sigh of surrender, he reaches inside his jacket, pulls out something from his pocket and places it on the table. It’s a flat and rectangular box, light blue and bright pink—medical and feminine.

‘Lucifer, I’m not in the mood for jokes right now,’ she tells him tiredly when she realises what the box contains. His brown eyes are sombre as they stare into her own.

‘As much as I wish it was, it’s not a joke.’

She eyes the small package before looking at him again. ‘So you actually think that I’m…?’ She trails off, suddenly finding it hard to pronounce the word. He nods.

Well, that explains a lot.

‘But that’s not possible,’ she states. ‘I mean, not just because you can’t, you know, but also-‘

‘Yes, well, colour us both fooled, Detective,” he cuts her off, “because based on some deduction I did today, and a not entirely ludicrous theory Linda had, it might be, in fact, possible. And I… I need to know for sure, so,’—he nudges the small package further in her direction and looks back up at her with pleading eyes—‘would you care for a wee?’

As she takes in his exhausted and anxious expression, she knows he won’t rest until they settle this once and for all. With a shrug and a ‘If it makes you feel better’ she grabs the unwrapped pregnancy test between them and climbs the stairs to go to the bathroom.

 *

 He’s pacing her living room to the point he might wear a hole in her floor, and his Italian wingtips, but he can’t find it in himself to care.

Never in Lucifer’s incalculable lifetime has he waited this long for anything. He may have waited millennia upon millennia for her—his love, his saviour, his sun—but not consciously. And that makes all the difference.

Because waiting when you know you’re waiting, is torture. So he’s come to realise during the past thirty-six seconds. (Well, one hundred and sixty-eight, if you count the time it took her to get upstairs and urinate on the stick—but only thirty-six– thirty-seven seconds have passed since he’d finally heard her flush.) And now a little more than two minutes remain before he definitively finds out whether he really has made Chloe pregnant.

He needs a drink, or a bottle. Or five.

Momentarily breaking off his aimless parading, he goes to her kitchen in search for that zinfully strong wine he’d taken away from her before. Before he can find it, he changes his mind, remembering that he’s upgraded her tea selection to a hand-plucked assortment of fine liquor. He grabs the strongest spirit in sight and gulps down a good half of it before once again finding himself pacing the floor just in front of the stairs, bottle to his lips.

Fifty-eight seconds passed.

He tries to distract himself with happy thoughts, but his happy thoughts involve sex with Chloe, and that’s what got him into this imbroglio in the first place. Oh, how tainted some of his best memories have become now. He reminisces on that... incredible first night in his penthouse a little less than a year ago, when they had—finally—given into their incandescent desire and thrown themselves at each other. He remembers, clearer than anything, how she’d lied there, naked and glowing against his dark sheets. How he’d been completely overwhelmed with awe. How he’d kissed her swollen lips and dug his fingers into the soft skin at her waist as he’d slid into her, bare; how he’d savoured the feeling of her and nothing but her—no cheaply produced rubber between them. Just lust, and love, and warmth. Because, for the first time ever, there was only one, the one, and it was her, and they could feel every inch of each other without worry.

It’s his single sweetest memory, the best night of his infinite life, and now all he can think is how moronically naïve he’d been. How utterly stupid he was to believe that the rules that applied to everyone else also applied to her—her. The one person who was immune to his charms, the one person who made him vulnerable, made him human. The person who was created with him in mind.

But alea iacta est, the Rubicon is crossed, and he’s bought a lifetime supply of condoms (he’d donated his stock to a frat house a week before the aforementioned night)—just in case she doesn’t want to stuff herself with hormones again. That is, if the damage isn’t already done.

One minute and forty-two seconds till they have an answer.

He empties the bottle nestled in his arms and goes to find another one. Even in the Detective’s proximity, the alcohol won’t have the effect he’d wish it would, but the delectable taste and the comfortable burn in his throat might get his mind off things, if only for a couple of seconds.

It doesn’t. Two empty bottles later, and he’s still walking up and down her living room floor, watching the milliseconds pass on his pocket watch.

He tries focusing on objects in his surroundings—fixating a vase, or the offspring’s artworks, or the empty wine glass on the coffee table. But his eyes keep flicking back to a certain leather-bound photo album on the bookshelf, perpetually reminding him of the picture that had aroused a polyphony of unwanted emotions in him. First came astonishment (he’d never seen a picture of her pregnant body, and Dad help him, was it in an eyeful). Then came fear, adoration, panic, lust, despair, pride, jealousy—not in any particular order, one following after the other. No, they’d washed over him all at once, like razor-sharp darts hitting him from every direction, poisoning him, each inflicting him with their own flavour of pain. He knows he’ll never forget the picture, that it’ll pop up in his mind when he least expects it, and that it’ll take his breath away every time. But he doesn’t know what to think or feel about that, so he tries not to.

One minute and three seconds to go.

He reaches into his pocket, wanting to occupy his mind with some endless scrolling through photos of beach parties and prime suits and other uncomplicated things, but remembers his phone died somewhere between flying to France for comfort foods and seeing Linda. So instead, he pictures his Detective in her bathroom, sitting on the edge of the tub, or perhaps pacing the room like himself, waiting with him. She hadn’t seemed too concerned when he’d voiced his suspicion—surprised, yes, but not concerned. Maybe she hadn’t completely believed him when he’d assured her it wasn’t in jest? Maybe she’d already been too tipsy to actually comprehend what he’d told her? It seemed implausible that she wouldn’t be the least bit anxious about the thought of a baby-Satan living in her womb. When she’d learned she was pregnant with Beatrice, she had, to quote her, been ‘absolutely terrified’. But when Lucifer, the Devil himself, had told her his progeny might be growing inside her, she’d just shrugged! Of course, genetically, she did have more to worry about with Daniel (with his unfortunate looks and all)—but still. Why hadn’t she been more scared? Why hadn’t she freaked outand stopped functioning altogether, like he had?

 Had she been…

 happy?

 Does she want to have his baby? Is she sitting in her bathroom right now, hoping he’s right?

They’ve never talked about having children. He had, between grunts and moans and hungry kisses, assured her he was sterile, and she’d seemed more than happy to ride him bareback without getting back on the pill. But she has never told him—and he’d never seen the point in asking—whether she’d want a child together if they could.

Consequently, he has absolutely no idea what she’s feeling now that she might actually be carrying his spawn. He doesn’t even know if she’d want to keep it. He has an inkling she would.

 He hopes she would.

 Not because he longs to play house—he’s not insane—but because it’s always nice when people keep the gifts you give them.

Not that he sees having a dependant for eighteen years as a gift. But maybe the Detective does. After all, she does look at the urchin like she’s nothing short of a miracle—and not a messy adolescent who always throws her purple Chucks where people are bound to trip over them.

Just last week, he had (or the teenager had) ruined one of his favourite Prada shirts as he’d caught his foot on her misplaced footwear and spilt Pinot Noir all over himself.

And yet, he would do anything for the little slob. At the beginning, it’d been about keeping Chloe safe and happy, and with that came the side gig of protecting her child. But he can’t deny it’s more than that now. He doesn’t just tolerate Beatrice anymore; he likes her. Chloe would protest and say he more than likes her, but he’s not quite ready for that other L-word yet (Dad knows he doesn’t speak it easily). He must confess, however, that it’d done something to his heart when Trix, a month ago, had posted a picture on her Instagram of herself, Lucifer and Chloe on the beach, laughing about something he doesn’t remember now, and simply, without a second thought, had captioned it ‘family 💜💗🧡’.

He’d tapped the like-button but hadn’t commented something clever and witty like he usually does on her posts. Instead, he had taken a screenshot and made it his lock screen.

Even as an empty battery has left his phone screen black for the moment, he easily recalls the photo. They do resemble some sort of a family, the three of them. Trix might not have his genes, but she’d been wearing his spare pair of Ray-Bans, and the necklace he’d given her for her thirteenth birthday had, as per usual, been resting around her neck. And that is more than enough for him.

In fact, he couldn’t ask for more.

Which is why it is exceedingly exasperating and so damn confusing that this relatively new family of his may now be growing. What exactly is he supposed to think of that? He’s already struggling to not let Chloe and Beatrice down, to be as good as they so confidently believe he is—why does he have to deal with a third one? Someone who is his own flesh and blood, at that. Not that it matters; he’s learned a long time ago that blood is not always—aka. never—thicker than water. Nonetheless, he won’t let history repeat itself; he won’t– refuses to fail his child.

 But what if he does?

 What if he fails his own child?

 What if he fails the only family he’s ever had?

‘Negative,’ the Detective’s voice suddenly sounds as she descends the stairs, startling him out of his thoughts. He gives her an apologetical look when their eyes meet. ‘I know, I’m sorry. I am trying my best. It’s just, as tiny as it is in size, it’s a lot to wrap my head around.’

‘No, the test,’ she clarifies. ‘It’s negative.’ She walks over to meet him in three steps and hands him the white stick. ‘Not pregnant’ it says on the digital display.

‘But,’ he finds himself objecting, taking his eyes off the test to look at her face, ‘your morning sickness.’

She furrows her brow. ‘It was food poisoning, like you said. Trixie got it too—at school of all places. Dan had to pick her up and take her home.’

Having witnessed her mother’s reaction to their shared dinner first-hand, Lucifer is struck by empathy for the urchin. He makes a mental note to send her a funny video—later, when he’s sorted out the more urgent matters at hand.

‘But you’re late. Your menstruation was due nine days ago,’ he informs Chloe, presenting his other piece of evidence. She doesn’t bat an eye. ‘Well, yeah, it was late, but I was probably just getting back in sync with Ella or something, ‘cause I got it yesterday.’

Annoyance simmers in his chest. ‘Well, then why didn’t you bloody say so?!’

All the trouble—all the emotional torture he could have saved himself if she’d just thought to keep him updated on her menstrual cycle.

‘I tried!’ she defends. ‘But then you cut me off, and I figured you wouldn’t believe me before you saw a negative test anyway, so…’

‘And you didn’t think to tell me yesterday?’

‘Well, I first got it when I came home from work, and you got here late.’

He’d slipped out of Lux relatively early, considering he was the owner and the host of the night’s event, but it’d still been past 3.00 before he’d arrived at her flat and had found her and Beatrice snuggling on the couch, both sound asleep. Even as he’d gathered his snoring girlfriend in his arms and carried her up to her bedroom, she hadn’t stirred (if anything, she’d snored louder) and he had, in lieu of surprising her with some late-night cunnilingus, simply slid off her sweats, left on her knickers and t-shirt, and let her sleep.

‘Still, we live in the twenty-first century, Detective; the Short Message Service has been invented,’ he reminds her.

She glares at him, as if he is the one who’s being unreasonable. ‘You want me to text you when I get my period?’ He solemnly raises an eyebrow, demanding she take him seriously. ‘Okay, fine. If it means that much to you, I promise I’ll… notify you next time.’

That only irks him even more.

‘Well, it won’t matter next time, will it?! Because, evidently, I am as sterile as a castrate!’ There’s a loud clack as he puts down the negative pregnancy test on the shelf behind her, more forcefully than he intended. She stares at him with an expression he can’t quite read.

‘Are you not happy about this?’ she asks him.

A strident snort fills the room. ‘“Not happy”? Did you hurt your head, Detective?! Of course, I’m happy! I’m thrilled as a matter of fact. I mean, can you imagine me, the Devil—Lucifer Morningstar—with a baby? Dad no!’

She steps closer to him, reaches for his hand and intertwines their fingers. Her eyes are big and clear—shining with so much sympathy it makes him uncomfortable.

‘It’s okay to be disappointed, too, you know?’ she tells him softly, staring into his eyes, reaching for his soul. He looks up at a point above her head.

‘Well, I’m not,’ he assures her, articulating each word.

He senses her nodding, but she doesn’t seem entirely convinced. Annoyed at her scepticism, he looks back down at her and opens his mouth to stress just how delighted he is with the news. But before he can say anything, she squeezes his hand and leaves him with a tender smile as she goes to discard the test. Once done with the task, she heads for the stairs, but instead of going up to her bedroom immediately she pauses at the second step, hesitating. As she turns to face him, the hint of a smile remains on her lips, even as her expression remains concerningly grave. ‘I can, by the way,’ she says.

He knits his brows, not following.

‘I can imagine you—Lucifer Morningstar—with a baby. But if you’re not ready for that conversation, that’s okay.’

And then he is left at the bottom of the stairs, breathless and paralysed. Inside him, something shifts ever so slightly—yet just enough that he will never be the same again.

[dadoroki]

You Are My Soulmate

Katsuki Bakugou x Reader

Warning: Fluff, food fight, frenemies to lovers idk

Summary: Imagine being stuck by a single thread connecting you to an angry gremlin. Despite your “hatred” for one another, you both agreed to destroy the one thing connecting you two together.

Heavily inspired by a Bts Friends anamatic!

You, Izuku, and Katsuki used to be the best of childhood friends. Just the three of you playing outside the park after school. However, when you got too close to Izuku, young Katsuki would always feel the pang of jealousy, dragging you by the hand to another area of the park.

“C’mon (y/n), you don’t wanna be with that quirkless loser!”

You knew the two boys had a weird friendship but brushed it off. You turned and motioned a sad Izuku to follow, the frown quickly turning into a smile as he ran to catch up with the two of you.

Middle school was where it all started to change. Izuku and Katsuki’s relationship began to spiral into something more toxic. At this age, you were capable of seeing the wrongs of Katsuki, voicing your opinions to him only to be ignored. As the people around you started developing and strengthening their quirks, it was then people started comparing eachother to see which were more powerful. Katsuki wanted to be the best. To be better than everyone else. To become the number 1 hero.

“I dunno, dude. Bakugou’s explosions are strong but have you seen (y/n)’s telekinesis?”

When he heard others comparing your quirk to his, arguing who was stronger, that’s when it all changed. His care towards you turned into anger, turned to jealousy, turned to hatred. He didn’t see you as the girl he had a slight crush on. No. To him, you were now competition. An obstacle that was in his way. He started to ignore your calls and spent less time with you. You were a bit hurt but knew it was the best for you, sticking by the green-haired teen. After middle school, the three of you applied and got accepted to UA.

“Oi, magician! You’re in my damn line of sight! Do a magic trick and move!”

Through the busy caf, you turn to see the angry blonde glaring at you with an embarrassed Kirishima giving you an apologetic look. You fully faced him with a hand on your hip. “Then close your frickin’ eyes. Nobody wants to see creepy eyes staring at them. Especially not yours.” That made the man turn red with full anger.

“HUH, WHAT DID YOU SAY?! I CAN KILL YOU ON THE SPOT RIGHT NOW!”

You turned around ignoring the angry calls followed by Kirishima and his friends attempting to calm him down. “You might just end up killing yourself by a heart attack, don’t cha’ think?” That only fuelled the man even more. “I don’t even know how you got accepted! You’re useless just like your quirk! Just like that quirkless Deku”, he shouts as he tries to instigate the situation, to which he succeeds. You whirled your head around, hair flowing as it follows your head movement. You raised your hand, Bakugou’s lunch raising up with it. Full force, you pushed forwards and the food makes a strong impact towards his face. Gasps were heard and it was the one time you heard silence from the gremlin. “Hm, that’s interesting. Did you just get a haircut?”

The man slammed his fist on the table, furiously wiping away the dripping food off his face. “SO THAT’S HOW YOU WANNA PLAY?! WELL I HAVE ALL DAY, IDIOT!” He exploded whatever food was left on the table, quickly swipping it all towards you. Chaos began as others joined in too. You and Bakugou exchanged food blows, both full of dirty clothes.

Bakugou had enough, aiming his explosive hand towards you before the both of you were being dragged by a cloth-like equipment. You were both faced by an angry Mr. Aizawa. You chuckled nervously. “Oh, hey sir. Um..a food fight only consist of food and...” You motioned towards the material only earning a harder stare. “Both of you to the principal’s office. Now!” Bakugou scoffed as he pushed off the tangled cloth.

“Next time, work on your aim, you freak. You hit purple balls majority of the time.” Bakugou said as he rolled his eyes and headed towards the office. You caught up beside him with a smirk.

“No, that was intentional.”

It’s been a week since the food fight. That day, Bakugou only had 3 days of punishment while you had 4. The morning sun flashed through the crack of your dorm room curtain, waking you up. You sighed and got off your bed, heading towards the kitchen. Laying on the counter was a single bag of cinnamon twists. You reached to grab it, only for the other side to be matched with a tug.

“Oi, you freak! Let go, it’s mine!”

You furrowed your eyebrows, pulling on your side of the bag. “Don’t care. I saw it first.” You saw the famous colour of red flush his face and swore you saw smoke coming out of his ears. “ARE YOU STUPID?! I SAW IT FIRST!” After multiple tugs and pulls, the bag broke with all the cinnamon twists falling to the ground, the both of you being left with the small corners of the bag. You both stared at the ground in disbelief. Pointing at eachother ready to cast the blame on one another, you noticed a red string wrapped around the tips of both your fingers, connecting you two. Bakugou’s eyes darted the thin string.

“Hey, what the hell? Get off of me!”

“Get off of you?! Why don’t you get off of me?!”

Just like the bag of cinnamon twists, you both turned your full attention on the red string, playing a violent game of tug-of-war. The harder you both tried, the tired you both grew. This was never gonna get off of you, would it?

Nope.

Weeks went on and you stood in front of the planning board in your room. Your eyes glanced around the planner, the bolded title: The Red String with a violently scribbled subtitle in red underneath reading: Plan: DESTROY IT! You and Bakugou tried everything. From burning it with Todoroki’s flames to freezing it with his ice. From Bakugou’s explosions to Kaminari’s electricity and til’ this day, Bakugou still calls you stupid for that. But hey, you were desperate to try anything and Kaminari’s yay mode was worth it.

You stared at the calm blonde laying on your bed, uninterested in what you were doing and creating knots with the string. You thoughts were interrupted buy an annoyed sigh. “Hey, idiot. Are you done with that? I wanna get to sleep.” You switched off the lights and then realized, “Wait, that’s my bed. Get off my bed.” You tried nudging his back with your foot, only earning a snore in return. Sighing you dropped yourself to the ground, stealing your blanket off of Bakugou and laying it on top of you. Your body fidgeted due to the uncomfortable sting the ground was giving your back.

“Oi! quit it. I’m trying to sleep.”

You scoffed and wiggled your attached finger more to irrate him. “Yeah, I’m trying too.” He peeked down at you and signaled for you to get up. You did in confusion before watching him roughly tug the string and making you fall on top of him. He pushed you off and beside him, gripping your waist and resting his head behind your neck. You were quiet, unable to move and unable to process what had happened. He lifted his head up a bit.

“Shut up, idiot. It’s the only way we both can sleep comfortably.” However, you both woke up that very morning with the strings tangling you up against eachother.

It was the normal routine. Finding a way to get this stupid thread off of you both. Everyone around you found it amusing how hard you both tried. Two hotheads in a pot. As the days went by, instead of finding a solution, you both took advantage of it, seeing who could annoy the other more.

He had complained that it was too cold in the dorm foyer. Being the nice person you were, you had helped by turning the fan on. That only made it worse as the string got stuck in the blades, both of you being dragged and yelling at eachother to “turn it off!” and him calling you an idiot. One day, Bakugou had pulled the string, forcing you both to embrace eachother. He told you that he really liked you being around him. You thought it was a nice gesture at first until others pointed out a sticky note on your back reading, “I’m a loser”.

After another round of your long and intense game of tug-of-war, you both fell to the ground with exhaustion. “We’re never gonna get this off, are we?” Bakugou stayed silent before asking you.

“Hey, magic hands... I was wondering”, he scratched the back of his head before continuing, “Do you wanna, I don’t know? Pick flowers or make fun of people?”

You stared at the man dumbfounded and squinted at him. “Whut?”

His eyes widened and he looked away with a scoff. “Don’t look at me with that stupid expression! Just, nevermind. Pretened I didn’t say anything, ok?”

You tried your best to put the puzzle together and after a while, you did. “Huhhh, is Katsuki Bakugou asking me on a date?” You smirked as you leaned on his muscular arm. He quickly brushed his arm away from you. “Pfft, in your dreams, nerd.” You pretended to sigh pressing your chin to your collarbone. “What a shame, I actually started to like you...”, you trailed watching him turn his head to you.

“Fine, but I’m only doing this because I can’t stand your annoying whines so be grateful.”

Typical stubborn Katsuki.

You rested your head back on his arm, only this time he never pushed you off.

“You know I hate you, right?”

The longer you both spent with eachother, the more your affection for one another grew. Who knew that a simple kiss could release the knot on your fingers but that didn’t stop the both of you from spending time together. You had later learned that the whole class 1A had made a bet on the two of you, Momo using her quirk to create an inseparable thread that’s grip could only be released when the affection between the two grew.

And it sure did.